"I figured they'd speed up the wheels a little… but isn't this a bit too much?" Garrik mutters beside me as he climbs, his voice low—meant just for me.
It's a quiet complaint, but one I can't help agreeing with.
Because indeed, the conveyor belts are moving way too fast now... Faster than any of us expected. We're forced to climb quicker, slip more often, and scramble to find decent footholds and handholds far more than once we ever anticipated.
Everything about this trial feels exactly like that first day all over again… maybe even worse. People are falling into the abyss—just like before, but only this time, it isn't just those who've run out of stamina or lost consciousness.
No.
Almost every single one of them slips for the simplest reason—a misplaced foot, a momentary lapse in balance, or failing to keep up with the speed of the conveyor belt that drags them straight into the void below.
Now, the sound of someone screaming as they plunge into the abyss—
It doesn't blend into the chaos like it used to.
It cuts through the air, sharp and jarring, as if death itself has become new again.
Then comes the third trial—the one that sparks my curiosity more than any of the others.
I mean, there's no way that extra two hours is the only change they've made since yesterday… Just like how they shortened the oxygen breaks and cranked up the conveyor belt speed, those damned Karthmere bastards must've gone overboard with this one too.
On top of that, we're still exhausted—even after a full hour of rest in the cafeteria. Instead, all it does is make more people puke up that protein sludge along the path leading to this old and rusty escalator.
The massive cage that slowly descends into the depths, while we all sit slumped against each of its sides, silently admitting what we already know: an hour of rest isn't nearly enough to recover even half our stamina… Not even after burning a chunk of our HP just to push ourselves back on our own feet.
"Just to be sure… we're not doing the usual plan this time, right, Deon?" Garrik asks—though I can tell he already knows the answer.
"Of course not. We don't know what's changed in this place yet."
I leap out just before the water reaches the cage floor, then continue, "For now, it's smarter if we stick together—watch each other's backs and stay alert."
Sadly before I manage to get everything off my chest, I start to hear it—a low rumble behind me, slow and steady, echoing from deep within the darkness.
Even after all this time—despite the chimera now spending more of its energy clashing with that Solmarian boy—not a single day has passed without it gunning straight for me first.
Every. Damn. Day.
Like seriously… Every single day, without fail, I have to bait it—lure the damn thing into slamming head first to one of the stone pillars, then hurl myself into that foul, reeking pool.
After that, it's a game of stealth and timing as Garrik and I slink away to a far-off corner of the chamber, waiting just long enough for the monster's attention to shift toward Orion and his crew instead. And from the looks of it… today's no different.
The beast leaps over the central pool, soaring toward me with that same hateful aura—like I owe it something. The daily game of deadly tag kicks off once again.
"I'll wait for you here, Deon."
"Yeah. See you in a bit," I reply flatly before taking off in a blur—dodging attacks when I have to, smacking its snout if I get the chance. But something feels... off.
Not wrong, exactly, just different. I don't know what it is yet... not really. But I keep my focus—eyes locked on the stone pillar just ahead.
"Sorry about this one, alright?" I whisper as my palm grazes the pillar's surface, veering left—expecting the usual thud and tumble from behind.
But instead, the chimera reacts in a way that finally answers the question gnawing at the edge of my thoughts… As it leaps and slams all four of its massive paws against the stone pillar, its head jerks to the side—locking eyes with me.
Then, with all the pressure from its landing coiled into its limbs, it launches again, claws extended, fangs bared wide enough to tear me in half.
And its eyes...
One of them—the left one—it's not like before. Not the same pale, lifeless white like the other. This time... it's different. Vivid. Alive. Like the sharp, calculating eye of a panther.
He can see... I whisper to myself, even as my mouth starts chanting a spell.
"Vorthar!"
The blast of compressed air detonates right between us—flinging both me and the chimera away in opposite directions. A perfect repeat of Garrik's mistake from two weeks ago, now reenacted by yours truly.
Where I'm sent tumbling across the harsh, uneven stone—bones rattling, breath knocked from my lungs—but my HP holds steady. No damage. Not even a scratch. Thank god my Strength isn't what it used to be… And then it appears—a soft ding, and the familiar shimmer of a level-up window slides into view.
Level Twenty-One. At last.
I allow myself a quick glance, scrolling through my updated stats while the monster—still dazed from the blast—shakes its massive head and tries to piece its mind back together.
╔════════════════════════════════════════════ ╗
║ ⌈ Level Up Window ⌋ ║
╠════════════════════════════════════════════ ╣
║ ▶ Name: **Deon Ravenheart** ║
║ ▶ Race: **Human** ║
║ ▶ Level: **21** ║
║ ▶ Class: **Unassigned** ║
║ ▶ Title: **[None]** ║
║ ▶ Energy Orientation: **[None]** ║
║ ▶ Destiny Bind: **[None]** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ HP: **371 / 420** ⬆ (+11)** ║
║ ▶ SP: **363 / 613** ⬆ (+13)** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ MP: **1 / 111** ⬆ (+1)** ║
║ ▶ EP: **1 / 192** ⬆ (+2)** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ Strength: **81** ⬆ (+2)** ║
║ ▶ Agility: **164** ⬆ (+4)** ║
║ ▶ Arcane: **46** ⬆ (+1)** ║
║ ▶ Essence: **72** ⬆ (+2)** ║
║ ▶ Sanity: **60** ⬆ (+1)** ║
║ ▶ Intelligence: **81** ⬆ (+2)** ║
╠════════════════════════════════════════════ ╣
║ ⌈ Skill and Effect List ⌋ ║
╠════════════════════════════════════════════ ╣
║ **[The Withering Blight]** ║
║ Status: Active ║
║ + Infection Progress: 94% ║
║ + Base stats amplification: 1.5 ║
║ + Level up stats amplification: 1.75 ║
║ + Time Remaining Before ║
║ Vessel Expiration: 2 years, 0 months, 28 days ⬇ (-6 days) ║
║ ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════ ╝
After four long days without a single level-up window—despite grinding relentlessly with Garrik and Therion day after day—finally, a single level ticks up.
And honestly? That alone is enough to lift my mood—just a little—beneath the crushing weight of everything this brutal day's thrown at me. Enough to make me stand tall again, chin raised, staring down the monster whose one good eye now sees my expression clearly.
But what I don't expect… is the growl that rumbles from its throat, snorting out a blast of hot air, like its frustration has finally reached the boiling point. And that proves something.
Even with its terrible habits—its inability to learn from the hundreds of times I've outwitted it—this creature has just enough intelligence to hate. To remember. To hold a grudge strong enough that it burns hotter each time I fool it.
This thing doesn't just want to kill me.
It wants it to hurt.
Then it roars—low, guttural, and deafening, echoing through every inch of the chamber like a beast announcing the end of patience. But I don't budge. I keep my eyes fixed on it, head held high, silently daring it to come at me. Even if that second eye starts working too, I won't back down… But then it clicks.
That roar—it wasn't just rage.
There's a reason for the sound it unleashed, for the tremor and the echo, as suddenly, something massive leaps out from behind it.
Something far bigger than any normal gorilla—its hulking body covered in rough, gray fur like coarse wire and along its back, jagged stone spikes jut out in clusters, so many they almost resemble the quills of a monstrous porcupine.
Its face is expressive. And a sharp, focused gaze, with one of its eyes is a pale, milky white on the right, while the other remains normal, creating a stark contrast that mirrors the chimera monster still standing silently behind it.
Also I realize, just in time, that its leap is aimed straight at me, as its massive hands raised, clearly intending to hammer me into the ground… So I jump back to dodge, but my foot catches on itself, and I tumble, landing on my backside with a heavy thud.
But I don't give myself even a second to dwell on it.
Instead, I force my body into a backward roll, using both hands—and every ounce of Strength and Agility I've got—to shove myself off the ground and launch backward as far as I can, before immediately breaking into a full sprint.
And I'll admit it—there's a flicker of panic tightening in my chest. It's that instinctive kind of fear, the kind that gets my legs moving before my brain even agrees… It carries me toward the group of children gathered at the center of the chamber, all eyes fixed on the monster I drag behind me. Some instinctively bolt in fear, scattering away from my path, while the rest hold their ground—nervous, but ready to fight if they must.
My best guess? This cursed magic thinks that whatever just nearly hit me should've been fatal—and that's all it needs to automatically trigger yet another wave of artificial fear, courtesy of the so-called Irreversible Holy Sacrament.
"Tzeryn!"
Siona bursts out of nowhere, shouting from beside me, her massive blunt-edged sword crashing into the monster's hand—not to cut, but to knock it away before it can grab hold of me.
I pivot instantly, planting my feet in a guarded stance alongside a handful of others, each armed and tense, weapons at the ready. Then a voice cuts through the noise—a sharp, urgent call that pulls my eyes toward the boy.
It's Therion who throws me a one-handed sword, while he grips another of the same massive size as the one he wielded yesterday.
"Is this one immortal too?" he asks, slicing through an undead that happens to appear right beside him.
"That's right."
"And... is this actually good news, considering we might get some XP from it, or not, since our lives are on the line, Deon?"
For some reason, I just laugh and shake my head. Honestly, now that I can think clearly, I admit I don't even know the answer to a question like that... But just thinking about it somehow feels pretty amusing. After all, I can see from the corner of my eye that Therion, the one asking, is smiling, probably thinking about the exact same thing I am.
"Well, we just need to survive on instinct, then... What do you think, Deon? Siona?"
The girl and I exchange a brief, understanding glance before nodding, the tension in the air shifts as we prepare ourselves.
While our focus sharpens, falling back into our fighting stances. In front of us, three other kids are still battling fiercely against the massive, mountain-backed gorilla, each of their movements a desperate dance of survival, pushing themselves to the limit.
And just as the moment arrives, when the three of them are sent flying by a brutal swipe from the monster's hand, Siona, Therion, and I spring into action… Quickly replacing their positions, with the girl attacking from the right, I charge from the front, and the beheading boy strikes from the left.
Each of us delivers a powerful slash, perfectly timed to land simultaneously, forcing the creature to stagger back—but we don't stop there.
The three of us press forward, launching a relentless rhythm of coordinated attacks. Blow after blow lands with precision, but despite its obvious pain and flinching, not a single one of our strikes manages to tear through its flesh.
All because its skin is just too damn thick—like stone wrapped in that dense, unnaturally tough wire-like fur that only adds another impossible layer of defense.
Also at most, the blunt greatswords only manage to crack or shatter bones beneath all of that… and even that feels like it's barely enough. But yet it sparks an idea in Therion, who grits his teeth mid-swing and shouts, "It'd be way easier if Siona and I had a pair of war hammers instead of these damn greatswords!"
"Might as well double that down, huh?" I shoot back, glancing sideways and over my shoulder, scanning for the thing he might be talking about—just in case it's somewhere nearby.
But the only thing I find is the chimera, lunging straight at me from behind—just as the porcupine-backed gorilla also reels its fist back, ready to hammer me from the front.
~~~~~