The thirty-ninth floor arrived without warning.
One moment the staircase was carrying them upward, the familiar transition between floors passing like a breath held and released. The next moment, the door opened, and the world changed.
It wasn't heat this time. It wasn't cold, or darkness, or disorienting terrain. It was pressure. A pure, undiluted weight that descended the instant they crossed the threshold, pressing down on every part of them simultaneously, as though the air itself had gained mass and decided to use it.
Wang Hao made it three steps before stopping. His knees bent slightly without his permission. His hand went to his chest instinctively. "…What is this."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement made by someone whose body was already providing the answer whether they wanted it or not.
