The descent into Floor 7 was different.
No staircase.
No door.
Just a chasm.
At the base of the Choir's cathedral was a circular platform ringed with chains and ancient bronze glyphs, slick with condensation. When Eren stepped onto it, the platform shuddered—then slowly lowered into the abyss, vanishing into darkness like a forgotten offering to some drowned god.
The air turned cold and wet. Dripping sounds echoed from the unseen walls. And the moment the platform touched down, they saw it:
A sunken city.
Half-submerged ruins stretched out in every direction. Towers jutted from black water like skeletal fingers. Algae-glazed statues stared with eyeless sockets from broken arches. Faint blue lanterns floated above the water's surface—moving slowly, eerily, as if patrolling.
It smelled of salt, rot, and old blood.
"Water level's stable," muttered Rorik, tapping his blade against the stone. "For now."
A marble sign, cracked and near illegible, stood at the platform's edge:
"The Drowned Court welcomes you."
Eren stepped forward, the cold water lapping at his boots. The others followed, weapons drawn, nerves frayed. The tower had tested their minds, their bodies, their loyalty. Now, it would test their resolve.
They hadn't gone far before they saw her.
A woman, dressed in rusted finery, stood waist-deep in water before a broken fountain. Her face was hidden beneath a mask of coral and gold. Around her neck hung a chain of tiny skulls—fish, bird, human. She held a long staff made of bone and barnacle.
And when she turned, the water itself recoiled.
"Entity recognized: Queen of the Drowned," the shard whispered.
"Ruled Floor 7 before the Flood. Undying. Binds the drowned souls to her court."
The water around them churned.
From beneath the surface rose her court—ghosts of nobles and knights, now pale, bloated, waterlogged things with empty eyes and grasping hands. Some still clung to bits of jewelry and crowns. All of them bore the mark of drowning—a hole in the chest where their hearts should have been.
"Weapons up!" Rorik shouted, already drawing steel.
But Eren didn't move.
The Queen stared at him.
And spoke.
"Another heir to the throne of ruin," she said, voice echoing like it came from beneath the waves. "Do you kneel? Or do you defy?"
Eren felt the shard throb.
This was another test.
Not of strength. Not of logic. But of command.
He stepped forward. "I don't kneel," he said.
The Queen's mask tilted. "Then you drown."
The water exploded.
Ghostly hands erupted, dragging soldiers under. Screams filled the air as blades clashed with phantoms. The lanterns above them flared blue, releasing pulses of magic that twisted the very water into spears.
Eren raised the shard and pushed. Not with force, but with will. He remembered the Choir. The First King. The throne of skulls. And he spoke a word the shard whispered into his mind:
"Unbind."
The water froze.
The ghosts screamed—not in pain, but release. Their chests pulsed with ghost-light, and the holes where their hearts had been filled with sudden flame. One by one, the spirits vanished—leaving only ripples.
The Queen staggered.
"You speak the language of the Tower," she hissed. "You wear its will like a crown."
"I don't want its will," Eren said. "I want the girl. The Princess. Let me pass."
The Queen raised her staff.
Then paused.
"I remember her," she whispered. "A flame in the dark. She passed this way. She wept for us. That is why she was spared."
Eren narrowed his eyes. "Spared by what?"
The Queen turned to the black water. "The Dragon. He circled above. He called her 'Starlit Vessel.' She… changed him. But he took her still."
"Why?" Rorik growled behind him.
The Queen looked at them once more. "You want to know? Then climb."
She raised her hand. A stone stairway surged from the water, spiraling up to the next floor. The Queen's form flickered like a candle. "But know this—above the clouds, nothing is sane. And not all who climb are meant to reach the top."
Her body dissolved into seafoam.
The court was gone.
Silence returned.
The survivors, soaked and shaken, began to climb.
And Eren followed, the shard dim and silent in his hand, but his resolve sharp as ever.