The air was still—too still.

Arios' breathing echoed faintly against the crystalline walls of the corridor, each inhale sharp and deliberate, each exhale measured, as though he feared even his breath could wake whatever slept within this floor. The faint violet hue of the dungeon's veins pulsed weakly beneath the smooth surface of the ground, like the sluggish beat of a dying heart. His boots left no sound as he moved forward, though his shadow swayed with the glow of his lantern crystal, the only trace of warmth in an otherwise indifferent void.

Floor Six had been merciless, a labyrinth that defied geometry, turning corridors into loops and pathways into walls. But now, something was different. There was no motion, no sound—only that eerie heartbeat buried deep within the stone.

"…Pokner. Lucy. Liza." He whispered their names, more out of instinct than hope. The sound was swallowed instantly, absorbed into the stillness like a drop of ink in water. Nothing returned.

He clenched his hand around the crystal, forcing calm into his voice even though the faint tremor of unease was impossible to hide. "This isn't separation. It's displacement. Something's controlling the dungeon."

The dungeon's earlier rhythm—its predictable cycle of traps and illusions—was gone. Replaced by something that *watched*. He could feel it, an unseen awareness brushing against the edge of his consciousness.

He crouched, touching the cold surface of the floor. It felt alive. A faint hum traveled up his arm, faint but insistent, like static crawling beneath his skin. Arios withdrew his hand immediately. "Tampering confirmed…" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting the walls themselves to shift.

And perhaps they would.

Somewhere deep within the maze, the faintest echo of metal striking metal rippled through the distance. A heartbeat later, the dungeon reacted. The lights flickered violently, throwing his surroundings into chaotic shades of purple and black. Arios steadied himself against the wall, eyes narrowing.

*That came from the others.*

He hesitated only briefly before pressing forward. The hall expanded gradually, revealing a vast cavern filled with towering stone spires and pools of mirror-like water. Mist gathered around his ankles, thick and luminous, distorting the world into fragments.

He stepped lightly, every sound exaggerated in the unnatural silence. Then—

"—you shouldn't have come alone, you know."

A voice drifted through the mist. Calm, amused, and familiar.

Arios froze. "Pokner?"

The fog shifted. A figure emerged from it—her silhouette sharp and unmistakable, yet her expression unreadable. Pokner stood at the edge of the nearest spire, her dark hair falling past her shoulders, illuminated faintly by the dungeon light. Her eyes—usually calculating and controlled—were distant, almost glazed.

Something was wrong.

"Pokner," Arios called, stepping forward slowly. "Stay where you are. The dungeon's been—"

But before he could finish, she raised her hand. The air shimmered. A wave of distortion rolled through the cavern, warping the reflection of his own body in the pools beneath them. His image twisted into monstrous shapes, a dozen faces overlapping his own.

Arios' instincts screamed. He leapt backward as a burst of raw mana exploded from where he had just stood. The wave struck the ground, sending shards of stone scattering across the mist.

"Pokner!"

She didn't answer. Her lips moved, but no sound came—only a faint hum, mechanical and detached.

He clenched his teeth. "A mimic. Or an illusion made from her form."

The false Pokner tilted her head, her expression empty yet mocking. The reflection of her body in the mirrored floor shifted, growing taller, her limbs bending at impossible angles as tendrils of shadow crawled from beneath her feet.

"Alright," Arios murmured, lowering his stance, "then I'll treat you as an enemy."

The creature lunged, and the stillness shattered.

Arios met her strike head-on, blade drawn, the clash of metal and energy echoing through the chamber. The creature moved like Pokner—fast, deliberate, analytical—but lacked her subtlety. Its strength was overwhelming, almost brutish.

He deflected the first blow, sliding under the second, and countered with a diagonal slash. The creature's body split momentarily into mist, reforming inches away, its laughter echoing faintly through the chamber.

"Adaptive illusionary defense…" Arios noted under his breath. He pivoted, throwing a mana-charged dagger into the mist. It struck the center mass, piercing through before exploding into a burst of light.

The thing shrieked—its sound warped, mechanical, inhuman.

For a heartbeat, its form faltered. He caught a glimpse beneath the illusion—a hollow frame made of glass and light, shifting between faces. Pokner's, Lucy's, Liza's… even his own.

*It's mimicking memory,* he realized, *harvesting emotion to stabilize its projection.*

He exhaled sharply. "Then I'll remove its fuel."

With a single strike, he drew his sword in a tight arc, the energy bursting outward in a flash of blue. The illusion shattered like glass, fragments of light scattering into the mist. The silence that followed was heavier than before, pressing against his ears.

Arios didn't relax. He'd seen too many traps to think this was over.

He scanned the chamber, noting how the mist had begun to recede. "The floor's responding to combat data… That means whoever tampered with it is still watching."

And then, faintly, through the remaining haze, a voice—soft and mechanical—whispered:

> "Observation confirmed… Subject: Arios Pureheart. Behavioral deviation—unacceptable."

The sound made his blood run cold.

The voice wasn't from within the dungeon. It was *through* it. As though someone—or something—was using the dungeon as a conduit.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

No answer. Only that low hum again, vibrating beneath his boots.

The dungeon pulsed once—twice—and then shifted violently. The entire cavern bent inward, folding space upon itself. He was thrown backward, the air knocked from his lungs as the ground dissolved beneath him.

He fell—

—and landed on cold stone.

He groaned, rolling onto his back. The world had changed again. This place wasn't the cavern. It was smaller, confined—a single circular chamber lit by crystalline glyphs that rotated slowly along the ceiling.

A test chamber.

He rose to his feet, shaking the dizziness from his head. "A forced relocation sequence…"

The dungeon wasn't random anymore. It was *targeting* him specifically.

He pressed a hand to the nearest glyph, trying to sense the mana flow, but what he found was worse. It was fragmented—disconnected, as though the dungeon's systems were being rewritten on the fly.

And through that interference, faint, deliberate interference.

A human signature.

*Someone on the outside is rewriting the trial.*

"Garron's expulsion didn't end it," Arios muttered grimly. "This goes deeper."

He drew his blade again and stood in the center of the chamber. "Then show me what you're hiding."

The glyphs flickered—and the chamber answered.

From the walls, mist gathered once more, forming bodies—beasts this time. Armored wolves with luminous white fur and eyes like molten gold. Dire variants—stronger than before.

Arios lowered his stance, smirking faintly despite the danger. "Round two, then."

The wolves lunged together, claws scraping stone. Arios sidestepped, his blade flashing in arcs of precision, slicing through the first wave in a clean motion. Sparks erupted where steel met fang.

The second wolf came from the side—faster. He caught its jaw mid-leap and twisted, using its own momentum to hurl it into the wall. The impact cracked the glyph behind it, distorting the flow of light.

Good.

He focused on that distortion, weaving his next strike to align with it. The third wolf lunged, but his sword pierced through the line of energy itself, splitting both creature and glyph in one stroke.

The reaction was immediate. The chamber screamed—mana spiraling violently out of control.

The wolves disintegrated. The light dimmed.

And as the last fragment of illusion faded, Arios stood alone once more, chest rising and falling, eyes sharp.

"…You wanted to test me," he said into the dark, "but you've shown too much."

He looked up, at the ceiling now flickering with broken symbols. "Whoever you are—you're not just observing. You're interfering."

No answer came. Only that same hum.

He turned, starting down the narrow passage that had opened at the back of the chamber, knowing it would lead deeper still. The dungeon wasn't just a test anymore. It was communication. A message written in stone and illusion.

And he intended to read every word of it.

---

Meanwhile—elsewhere in the labyrinth—

Lucy knelt beside a shallow stream glowing faintly blue, her hands trembling as she pressed a healing rune against her wrist. "We have to find him," she said, voice soft but determined.

Pokner's eyes were distant, fixed on the horizon of shifting corridors. "We will," she replied. Her tone was calm—but her expression betrayed unease. "But we need to move carefully. This place isn't following any known algorithm anymore. It's reacting."

Liza sighed, brushing dust off her uniform. "So… basically, the dungeon's *alive* now?"

Pokner didn't answer immediately. Then: "In a way… yes."

And somewhere, far away, Arios kept walking—alone beneath the flickering glyphs.

His blade was steady. His eyes, unwavering.

He could feel it now—th

e pull of something deeper, darker, waiting just beyond the next turn.

The heartbeat of the dungeon.

And it was beating faster.

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