Section 4 felt wrong the moment I stepped in.
Not empty.
Not quiet.
Just… wrong.
---
The moss here was thinner, scattered in patches that didn't quite connect. The light they gave off was weaker too, stretched thin across the stone like it didn't have enough to hold its own shape.
Shadows filled the gaps.
Not deep enough to hide everything.
Just enough that your brain tried to complete what it couldn't see.
That was worse.
---
I didn't move far from the entrance.
Stayed close to the wall.
Back protected. One direction removed.
My breathing was still uneven from the last section, my shoulder grinding slightly every time I shifted it wrong, my leg tight where the quill had gone in.
HP: 71 / 490
Not good.
Not stable.
But moving.
---
I listened.
At first, nothing.
No skittering. No heavy steps. No breathing like the Hounds.
Just silence.
---
Then—
something.
---
A sound so faint I almost ignored it.
Like air being cut into pieces.
Fast.
Light.
Constant.
---
I didn't look up.
Not immediately.
Instinct.
If something wanted me looking up, that meant that's where it had control.
---
The first hit came anyway.
---
Sharp.
Fast.
Across my face.
---
I flinched back on instinct, hand coming up too late to stop it.
Heat spread across my cheek.
Then wet.
Blood.
---
HP: 64 / 490
---
I stepped back hard, shoulder hitting the wall behind me.
Stone. Solid.
Grounding.
---
Don't chase it.
Don't panic.
---
Find it.
---
I forced myself still.
Breathing controlled.
Eyes scanning slowly, not snapping, not reacting too fast.
---
There.
Movement.
High.
Already repositioning.
---
ASHWING BAT
---
Small.
Too small.
A blur more than a shape.
Thin wings. Narrow body. Something about it felt unfinished, like it had been designed for one purpose and everything else had been stripped away.
---
It didn't circle.
Didn't posture.
Didn't threaten.
---
It tested.
---
The second dive came from the right.
I turned.
Swung—
Missed.
---
Pain again.
Other cheek.
---
HP: 59 / 490
---
I didn't move after that.
Didn't chase.
Didn't react.
---
"Not like the others," I muttered under my breath.
---
Scuttlers rushed.
Hounds committed.
Crawlers pressed.
---
This—
This was different.
---
I pressed fully against the wall.
Let the stone take my weight.
Reduced the space I had to track.
---
Closed my left eye.
Blood was getting into it anyway.
Didn't need both.
---
I listened.
---
The sound again.
That fast, thin slicing.
Like something cutting through air faster than it should.
---
Focus.
Block everything else out.
---
There.
A shift.
---
Subtle.
Almost nothing.
---
But the pitch changed.
Just slightly.
Higher.
Closer.
---
I swung.
---
Connected.
---
The impact was light.
Almost nothing.
But it was enough.
---
The Bat dropped.
Hit the ground.
Didn't move again.
---
I exhaled slowly.
"Got it."
---
Not vision.
Sound.
---
I adjusted my stance.
Lower.
More stable.
Breathing controlled.
---
Listen.
Wait.
---
Two now.
Different positions.
Different rhythms.
---
Don't track both.
Track one.
---
The shift came.
Higher pitch.
Closer.
---
I moved.
Swung—
Missed.
---
Pain.
Ear this time.
Sharp.
Ringing.
---
HP: 54 / 490
---
The world narrowed for a second.
Sound distorted.
Everything too loud, then too quiet.
---
I didn't react.
Didn't swing again.
Didn't move.
---
Wait.
---
The ringing faded.
Slowly.
---
The sound returned.
Clearer.
Sharper.
---
Better.
---
I swung again.
---
Hit.
---
Second one dropped.
---
The third came immediately after.
Different timing.
Faster.
Trying to catch the gap.
---
I stepped forward instead of back.
Closed distance.
Forced it lower.
---
Swung upward.
---
Connected.
---
Three.
---
"Adapt," I muttered.
---
Not reacting anymore.
Predicting.
---
The next stretch blurred.
Time lost meaning.
---
Not clean.
Not controlled.
---
I got hit.
Again.
And again.
---
Face.
Shoulder.
Hand.
---
Each hit small.
But constant.
Eroding.
---
HP: 41 / 490
Then 36.
Then 31.
---
No single mistake.
Just pressure.
---
I adjusted.
Breathing slower.
Movements tighter.
Less wasted motion.
---
The sound became clearer.
Not because it changed.
Because I did.
---
I could hear the difference now.
The dive.
The reposition.
The hesitation.
---
By the fourth—
I was no longer guessing.
---
Swing.
Hit.
Reset.
---
The fifth tried something different.
Didn't dive immediately.
Stayed higher.
Circling.
Slower.
Watching.
---
Smarter.
Or just more cautious.
---
I didn't move.
Didn't give it anything to work with.
---
We waited.
---
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
---
My breathing slowed.
Deliberate.
Controlled.
---
The world narrowed to sound.
Nothing else mattered.
---
Then—
it committed.
---
The pitch shifted.
Sharper than before.
Faster.
---
I moved first.
---
Stepped forward.
Not back.
---
Swung early.
---
Caught it mid-dive.
---
It dropped.
Still.
---
Silence.
---
Real silence this time.
---
I didn't trust it.
---
Stayed still.
Listened.
---
Nothing.
---
"Clear," I said quietly.
---
HP: 23 / 490
---
Barely standing.
---
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
Came away red.
Didn't matter.
---
I moved through the section slowly.
Every step measured.
Every movement deliberate.
---
Found the bodies.
Small.
Light.
Fragile compared to the others.
---
Pulled the cores.
Ate them one by one.
---
+0.3
+0.2
+0.2
---
Diminishing returns.
Expected.
---
HP: 53 / 490
---
Still low.
Still dangerous.
---
But not immediate death.
---
I exhaled slowly.
Looked toward the exit.
---
Each section had been worse.
More demanding.
Less forgiving.
---
Section 1 — simple.
Section 2 — pressure.
Section 3 — adaptation.
Section 4—
Precision.
---
I stepped toward the door.
---
Stopped.
---
Something felt off.
---
Not sound.
Not movement.
---
Something else.
---
A thought.
Late.
Delayed.
---
Why were these getting harder this fast?
---
This was supposed to be a tutorial.
---
HP: 53.
No equipment.
Barely surviving each section.
---
I stared at the door.
---
"…this isn't normal."
---
The system didn't respond.
It never did.
---
I pressed the panel anyway.
---
The door opened.
---
And somewhere above—
far above—
the delayed notification reached another layer.
---
Higher floors.
People who didn't watch Floor 1.
People who didn't care about beginners.
---
This time—
they noticed.
---
"Anomaly #0001," someone read.
---
A pause.
---
"…Floor 1 shouldn't be scaling like that."
---
Another voice.
Lower.
More interested.
---
"It isn't."
---
Silence.
---
"…watch him."
---
And for the first time since entering the Tower—
Kai wasn't just surviving.
---
He was being evaluated.