Floors Seventy-Two through Eighty were legendary.
Damien had seen beauty before. He had walked through the jungles of Floor Sixty-Seven, crossed the endless desert of Floor Seventy, and marveled at the false heaven of Floor Seventy-One. But nothing had prepared him for this.
These floors were not just beautiful. They were alive.
The forests were primordial, ancient beyond measure. Trees rose like towers, their trunks wider than buildings, their canopies forming cathedrals of green and gold. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in shifting patterns, casting everything in a warm, ethereal glow. Rivers wound through the landscape like silver serpents, their waters so clear that Damien could see every pebble on the riverbed. Lakes reflected the sky like mirrors, their surfaces undisturbed by wind or wave.
The savannas were vast and golden, stretching to horizons that seemed impossibly distant. Herds of creatures...beautiful, deadly, and utterly alien...roamed across them. Some were predators, sleek and fast, with eyes that gleamed with intelligence. Others were prey, graceful and swift, their forms designed for speed and survival. All of them were dangerous. All of them were magnificent.
Flowers bloomed in colors Damien had never seen before....vibrant purples that seemed to glow, deep blues that drank the light, fiery oranges that burned like embers. Their scents filled the air, intoxicating and hypnotic, and Damien had to remind himself more than once that beauty in the dungeon was often a trap.
But the size was what truly stunned him.
Each floor was massive. Three times the size of Orario. Maybe more. The distances were incomprehensible, the landscapes so vast that they felt like separate worlds. Floor Eighty was the largest of all...a continent unto itself, with mountains that scraped the sky and valleys that plunged into darkness.
"How is it even possible for the dungeon to be this massive?" Damien muttered to himself as he walked through a forest that stretched endlessly in every direction.
He had known the planet was bigger than Earth. He had known the dungeon was deep. But this... this was something else entirely.
"I know this planet was bigger than Earth in size. But how is it possible that a hole extending to the core of this planet could be this big?" He paused, considering. "Perhaps I am looking at it wrong. The dungeon is not a hole in the ground—maybe the first twenty to thirty floors, yes. But I think ever since Floor Fifty... this place has become akin to a different world."
He thought of Ouranos. Of the Shadow Monarch. Of the prison they had created.
"I wonder how Ouranos and the Shadow Monarch created this prison. Hell, maybe it was not them. Maybe the Lord of Light made this to escape and return later."
He shook his head.
"It is a prison, all right. But it is sentient. And too structured. Strong and organized. It can recognize threats, expeditions, and lone warriors—and respond accurately."
He continued walking, his eyes scanning the treeline.
"Whatever controls this dungeon, it must be smart. If it is not the Lord of Light himself controlling it... but ever since I saw him back then, I did not get to see him again. Maybe he is sentient. Maybe not."
An arrow whistled toward his head.
Damien dodged without thinking, his body moving on instinct. Shadows erupted from his feet, extending outward in a wave of darkness. They transformed into hundreds of spikes, impaling the attackers before they could loose another volley.
Primordial Goblins.
They were taller than normal goblins—much taller, nearly the height of a man. Their skin was a deep, mottled green, and their eyes gleamed with a intelligence that set them apart from their lesser kin. They wore crude armor fashioned from bone and wood, and they carried weapons that showed signs of craftsmanship rather than mere scavenging.
They had language. Culture. Society.
But whenever they saw Damien, all of that disappeared.
They attacked like beasts, screaming and snarling, their eyes wild with something that looked almost like... fear? Hatred? Damien could not tell. All he knew was that the moment they laid eyes on him, their intelligence seemed to vanish, replaced by a primal, mindless aggression.
He had noticed the pattern the lower he went. The creatures became more intelligent, more organized. But they still acted like monsters when they saw humans.
As if they were cursed.
Damien shook his head and continued to Floor Eighty-One.
...
The forest that greeted him was different.
It was endless. That was the first thing he noticed. The trees stretched in every direction, their branches intertwining to form a canopy so dense that it blocked out the light. The air was thick with the scent of moss and old wood, and the ground was soft with fallen leaves.
But it was the silence that unsettled him.
There were no birds. No insects. No distant calls of predators or prey. Just silence—heavy and absolute.
Damien walked forward, his senses on high alert.
He felt it before he saw it.
He was being watched.
But not from any single direction. The gaze came from everywhere—from the trees, from the ground, from the air itself. It was as if the entire forest had turned its attention to him.
He could not sense where it was coming from.
His eyes narrowed. This was unusual. His senses were sharp—sharper than any mortal's, sharper than most gods. He could detect a heartbeat from a mile away, sense the faintest trace of killing intent. But this...
This was different.
He felt it everywhere.
Because whoever was watching him... was everywhere.
The ground exploded.
Damien's shadow wings materialized in an instant, carrying him into the air as spiky trees erupted from the earth beneath him. They grew impossibly fast, their branches twisting and sharpening into spears that reached for him.
He dodged, weaving between the attacks.
And then he saw it.
A creature emerged from the ground—not walking, but growing. Its body was made of wood and bark, its limbs formed from twisted branches, its face a mask of ancient wood with eyes that glowed like embers.
It was massive. Taller than any tree in the forest, its body extending into the canopy and beyond. And as it rose, Damien realized that it was not separate from the forest.
It was the forest.
"Huh." Damien hovered in the air, his wings beating steadily. "Looks like I got Treebeard as an enemy now."
The creature's voice was the sound of wind through leaves, of branches creaking, of roots shifting through soil. It was not a voice that belonged to any mortal throat.
"A man. Part of the mortals of the upper lands. A virus to the world. An infection."
Its ember eyes fixed on Damien.
"Your death... all of you... is a true necessity."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "You can talk."
"More arrogance." The creature's voice deepened, becoming a rumble that shook the very air. "Even speech is something you claim as your own. No... the forest does not speak. But I speak for it."
The trees around them began to move.
"I AM ITS FURY!"
Branches extended, growing longer and thicker, reaching into the sky like grasping hands. Roots erupted from the earth, coiling and striking. The entire forest came alive, every tree, every vine, every leaf turning against him.
Damien watched as the forest mobilized. Trees stretched so high they disappeared into the clouds. Branches became spears, roots became whips, and the canopy above him became a cage.
He was facing an entire forest on his own.
And that forest was mad.
"Well..." He grinned, his shadows coiling around him like living armor. "I like this challenge."
The creature screamed...a sound of pure, elemental rage....and the forest attacked.
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