When Erus set foot on the 98th floor, silence greeted him.
The atmosphere was vastly different from the floor he had just left. This room resembled a palace ballroom, its walls lined with paintings—but the subjects were the iconic tools and weapons he believed only the deities could own. Flowering vines climbed the walls, yet they seemed to recoil from the frames, as if the paintings were emitting a divine aura nature dared not touch. Aside from these decorations, the hall was hauntingly empty.
At the far end of the hall, he spotted two human-sized glass boxes. He walked toward them, narrowing his eyes to examine the items within.
Inside the left box, two items floated, a crown and a dragon-shaped ring, both radiating a brilliant golden light. The box on the right held a long golden scepter, no taller than himself, and a golden infinity ring. These, too, emitted the same regal aura as the first set.
Both sets were breathtaking, possessing a value so high that even the red crystals of the 97th floor couldn't compare. To Erus, they looked truly divine—but the logic of the room had not yet sunk in.
Were these prizes he had to choose from? Or were they traps designed for later regret?
Positioned between the glass boxes was a large scroll. He picked it up cautiously, searching for clues. To his dismay, the unrolled scroll was nothing but a blank white canvas. He tried channeling his Zen to reveal a hidden trick, but there was none. It was simply empty.
Was this trial testing his talent for painting? He looked around. There was no brush, no ink. How was he supposed to create anything?
Erus bit his lower lip. He felt no ill intention from the room, but the silence and the objects before him were stifling. He scanned the walls again, and for a moment, the absurd thought of ripping down the other paintings and rolling them up like the blank scroll hit him. He immediately dismissed the idea.
What kind of logic is that? He asked himself, frustrated.
He stared at the crown, losing himself in its intricate design. There was a haunting resemblance to the mask he wore. He felt that if he could only remove his mask, he could compare the two side-by-side to find the truth. The dragon-shaped ring beside it hummed with the same familiar energy.
"Have I seen these before?" He muttered to himself.
The longer he looked, the more the connection deepened. A sense of familiarity washed over him, though he couldn't pinpoint the why or the when. Perhaps it's just because the carvings match my mask? He wondered.
His hand reached out instinctively, but he stopped midway. Something buried deep within his blurred memories screamed at him to stay back. It felt like another persona was stirring inside him—or was he finally reaching his limit and losing his mind?
Instead of touching the glass box on his left, he pulled back and rested his hand on his hip, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh.
He turned his gaze to the right.
The scepter wasn't his style at all. It was elegant and slender—clearly a woman's weapon. The ring, too, was far too small, meant for a lady's finger. How the hell did these things end up here?
The presence of these feminine items felt like more of a personal insult than any slur ever thrown at him.
Yet, as he stared at the scepter and the ring, something rippled through his emotions. Aside from the radiant glow of the weapons, he noticed gold dust particles dancing in a rhythmic swirl around the scepter. It looked alive, and a chilling trance began to settle over him.
"Erus..."
He blinked rapidly, his heart suddenly leaping into an erratic rhythm. Had he misheard it, or had someone whispered his name? The voice was... so sweet it made him feel as though he was melting.
"Hm!" He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, trying to regain his composure. He had let his guard down. "What the hell was that?" He was so bewildered he looked like a young boy who had just been pranked.
But his heart refused to settle. Was he having a heart attack? He still hadn't figured out the logic of this trial. Was the goal to kill him via his own pulse?
"Erus..."
He swallowed hard the second time he heard it. The voice was alluring, hypnotic, and filled with a warmth that felt like a physical touch. No one had ever made him feel this way. Though he was notoriously aloof and felt nothing when other women approached him, this voice sparked a fire in him that he couldn't explain.
It felt as if his very life had been depending on that single voice for a long, long time.
He stared at the scepter with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Was this inanimate object the one calling his name? It would make him look like an absolute fool if a mere item could make him melt like this. Was the scepter far more dangerous than the crown or the dragon ring?
The thought only intrigued him further. Forgetting his royal dignity, Erus sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the glass box. He waited, held his breath, wanting to hear her say his name just one more time for confirmation.
Instead of a voice, Erus's vision began to pulsate. In the blink of an eye, he saw a woman's face—she was smiling so sweetly as she slowly turned to look at him. She radiated not just breathtaking beauty, but a power so immense it forced him to scramble to his feet and take a step back. He wasn't afraid. He was mesmerized. An odd, ancient ache filled his chest. He wanted her—he craved her with a desperation he didn't understand.
But the moment his desire peaked, the vision shattered. Everything snapped back to normal.
"What!" Erus barked, his voice thick with disappointment.
His mind lingered on only one question, "Who is she?"
"Did you just show me your owner?" He asked, addressing the scepter directly. His expression was one of excitement rather than confusion or fear. An unconscious grin spread across his face. "If I choose you, will you help me find her again?"
Erus paused as a sudden realization hit him. He had to choose between the two boxes, but what about that damned blank scroll?
"Darn it! Never mind the scroll."
He didn't understand what was happening to him, but the moment he saw her face, something deep within him had been triggered. She felt like a long-lost piece of his soul, even if he had no idea who she was. All he cared about now was seeing her again and confirming that strangely familiar feeling.
Without a second thought, he slipped his hand inside the glass box and gripped the scepter. A familiar warmth enveloped him instantly, and the golden dust particles danced across his skin as if they recognized him perfectly.
"In the name of the galaxies, I command the ashes of eternity to take root. Let him be the only one bound to the protection of the void that only I can weave."
Erus' eyes glowed gold for a fleeting second. He couldn't tell if those words had come from the scepter or from the depths of his own forgotten memories.
While Erus was lost in the chaos of his newly discovered feelings, the audience outside the triangular dungeon was utterly baffled. To them, it looked as if he had finally succumbed to madness.
They saw him staring interchangeably at two shriveled, dead tree trunks. He even began speaking to one of them, his voice hushed and urgent, as if he had truly lost his mind.
The spectators could see Erus's actions, but they were blind to his vision. The 98th floor was designed to manifest what was dearest to a person's heart, and even from the outside, the pyramid's magic did not lie.
The paintings on the walls, which Erus perceived as divine relics, appeared differently to everyone else. Some saw their worst nightmares staring back at them, others saw their loftiest ambitions. For the most unfortunate, the canvases displayed the traumas that still haunted their sleep.
The audience assumed Erus was seeing exactly what they were seeing, making his behavior impossible to comprehend.
Meanwhile, the King of the Northland Kingdom watched the scene unfold with a hardening heart. At first, he had been smugly confident, certain that Erus would choose the symbol of the Kingdom over a modest farm and a small hut—for that was the choice presented through the King's eyes. To the King, the paintings on the walls were portraits of the great leaders of the Northland lineage.
But when Erus chose the little farm and the hut, the King's pride was shattered. The legacy he valued above all else had been discarded by the very boy he accused of being "too ambitious." The King had spent years loathing Erus, convinced the boy was a threat to his throne, yet here was Erus, effortlessly trashing the thing the King held most precious.
A dark thought crossed the King's mind, his cursed bastard son would never conquer the next level. This would be the end of him. The King's face twitched with the malice of a villain who was certain that, in the end, victory would be his.
After, Erus heard the chant, the scepter dissolved like a smoke in the air while the infinity ring was absorbed in his body.
The scroll floated in front of him and in an instant painted a beautiful golden scepter with the background of a crumbling world from the most violent attacks of nature— floods, landslides, fire, storm, and the ravaging lightning in the darkest aura. While the infinity ring was the very golden-red moon.
For a moment, Erus stared at the painting then furrowed his brows. He didn't understand anything except for the painting showing a catastrophe. Did it have something to do with him?
Then a light was emitted at the center of the scroll. A door opened which made Erus very expectant about what he could see. But nothing came out.
Erus checked the door and popped his head inside to see— Nothing. No one was there. It was just a forest inside and it looked creepy like it was the demons' den.
He sighed heavily but still chose to enter, hoping he could see her again. But why choose a scary place? That woman he saw, clearly not into such kinky places.
When he was totally inside, the door closed and the scroll vanished. This made Erus not really happy.
"Aish! What the hell. Why bring me already on this damn floor?"
He had wanted to stay on the 98th floor longer, but he had no choice, this was a trial, after all.
He glared heavily at his surroundings. This place was no joke. It was thick with malice. Everything in the forest pulsed with an aura that hungered for death.
But Erus couldn't care less. He still hadn't moved on from his experience on the 98th floor, and his hope of seeing the scepter's owner hadn't been extinguished yet. Even if it seemed impossible, he hoped for a chance to see her one last time. The feeling burned in his chest like an unquenchable fire.
As he trekked through the strange, unfamiliar woods, dark shadows began to lurk around him. His eyes flared crimson, and he allowed his own cursed aura to erupt. The lower beings were instantly erased by the sheer pressure of his presence. He moved with long, powerful strides, remaining hyper-attentive to his surroundings.
A few higher-level monsters tried their luck, but he incinerated them to ash without uttering a single chant. He looked like an absolute badass. If you were a fan, you'd be utterly awestruck by the sight, but if you were one of those who had hated him from the start, you would be trembling in pure terror.