JOSHUA:
The first floor left us ragged. Leona limped beside me, her breathing shallow, and Olamilekan hadn't said a word since the Devourer fled. His silence wasn't the quiet of relief—it was something darker. Calculated. Heavy.
Ibou led us to a narrow platform that had appeared after the Devourer vanished. An elevator of sorts—if you could call a floating slab of black stone an elevator. As we stepped on it, there was no rumble, no hum, no sign of machinery. The stone simply ascended, pulled upward by an invisible force.
The second floor came into view, slowly. It wasn't like the wide obsidian expanse of the first. This one was a jungle—a living jungle. Towering trees stretched into a skyless ceiling. The scent of wet earth and rotting vegetation choked the air. Bioluminescent fungi dotted the bark, casting everything in an eerie, greenish glow.
"This doesn't make sense," Leona whispered. "There shouldn't be this much vegetation inside a tower like this."
"Sense left us at the door," I muttered, stepping ahead.
Ola didn't move. He stood at the edge of the platform, staring into the wilds ahead. Ibou noticed too, narrowing his eyes. I glanced back. Olamilekan's hands were trembling ever so slightly.
"You good?" I asked.
He nodded slowly. "There's something… watching us. Already."
We didn't need convincing.
We stepped into the undergrowth, branches parting like blades. Every movement felt like it echoed into the unseen. The jungle was alive—not just growing, but reacting. Trees subtly leaned in as we passed. Roots shifted in our peripheral vision. We moved as a unit, slow and quiet, weapons at the ready.
And then the silence shattered.
A shriek—piercing and guttural—tore through the jungle. Leaves burst upward as something massive barreled through the thicket, straight toward us. I barely had time to raise my arm before the shadow hit.
It slammed into Leona, flinging her like a ragdoll across the clearing. Olamilekan lit up in a flash of pale gold and dove after it. I saw its form in that instant.
A beast—twice the size of a lion, but reptilian. Six legs, layered with plated scales. Its head resembled something between a panther and a serpent, but its eyes… those weren't natural. Too human. Too aware.
Ibou's voice came through the comms: "Engage! It's one of the Floor Beasts. Do not let it retreat. If it gets away, it learns us."
I summoned my shadows.
My magic surged from my core, pouring out like ink. The beast whipped toward me instantly, sensing the shift. I let the darkness snap outward like ropes, aiming for its legs. It dodged two—impossibly fast—but the third coiled around one of its hind limbs.
Olamilekan struck next, light dancing down his arms like controlled lightning. His fist landed against the creature's side with a thunderous crack, sending it crashing into a massive tree.
The beast wasn't down.
It rolled back to its feet and opened its mouth—not to roar, but to speak.
"You're not ready," it rasped in a twisted voice. "You smell of doubt and death."
I blinked.
"What the hell?"
"Did that thing just—?" Leona staggered up beside me, blood trickling from her temple.
It lunged again, and we scattered.
Ibou moved with precision, blades slicing across the creature's flank as he blurred through its blind spot. It screamed—more in annoyance than pain—and slammed its tail into him, launching him into the underbrush.
I caught a glimpse of Olamilekan then. His hands were glowing again—not gold, but something darker, coiling and shifting like smoke laced with embers. He didn't use it. He held it back.
He's afraid of it, I realized.
He unleashed a beam of pure golden energy instead, slamming into the creature's chest. It finally stumbled.
I took the chance.
The shadows twisted, wrapped around its throat, and yanked.
It fought—thrashed wildly—but Olamilekan joined me, pinning its limbs with chains of light. Leona hurled a firebomb she conjured, and Ibou, now recovered, drove his blade deep into its side.
The beast screamed—a sound that shook the jungle to its roots—and finally collapsed.
It wasn't dead. But it couldn't move. It looked at us with those humanlike eyes and whispered:
"Each floor… knows your sins."
Olamilekan stepped forward. "What?"
The creature coughed something like a laugh, then dissolved into black mist.
Gone.
The jungle shifted.
Roots pulled away from our path, revealing another platform—another way up.
We didn't celebrate. There was no time for that.
Ibou dusted himself off. "This place adapts. The more we fight, the more it learns."
"So what's on the next floor?" Leona asked.
"No clue," Ibou replied. "But we just barely survived this one."
Olamilekan remained quiet, staring at where the beast had fallen.
I stepped up beside him. "You held back."
"I had to."
I didn't push. We both knew why. That… thing in him. It was growing.
And if this tower learned our sins…
Then we were all in trouble.