The air had weight now.

Every step Arios took carried an echo that didn't fade right away—it lingered, twisted, and warped into a rhythm that didn't belong to him. The deeper he went, the more the dungeon felt alive, like the very stone around him pulsed in sync with a heartbeat that wasn't his own. The faint violet glow from before had shifted—deeper now, darker. It was red. A heartbeat red.

Arios moved cautiously through the narrow path, his hand brushing the edge of the stone as he walked. Every once in a while, the walls shuddered faintly, humming like a living creature drawing breath. The air reeked faintly of ozone and iron.

"Floor Six… no—this feels beyond it," he murmured.

The last chamber's glyphs had shattered in response to his battle with the dire wolves. But instead of freeing him, it had triggered a deeper layer—a sealed section that no student should have been able to reach. A place beneath the floor.

He stopped briefly and glanced back. The passage behind him was gone. Only a solid wall remained.

"Figures," he muttered, tightening his grip on his sword. "So, no going back."

A low rumble answered him, distant but steady.

Not thunder. Not collapse.

It was breathing.

And it was coming from ahead.

He swallowed once, pushing forward until the narrow hall widened into an open chamber—a cathedral of stone and crystal. The ceiling arched high above him, supported by jagged spires that looked more organic than carved. At the center of the chamber stood a single monument: a pulsating core of light encased in translucent crystal, veins of red running through it like living blood.

Arios approached slowly, every instinct on alert.

"Tampering… this must be the source."

The closer he got, the louder the pulse became, vibrating through the soles of his boots and into his chest. It wasn't random. It was measured. A signal.

He knelt beside the base of the crystal, examining the mana flow. The structure was imperfect—fractured lines, overlapping runes that didn't belong to any academy protocol. There were human elements in its construction, but also something ancient—too old, too deliberate to be part of the dungeon's modern build.

"This isn't just altered code," Arios muttered under his breath. "This… predates it."

He reached out—then froze.

A single whisper slipped through the air, so faint he thought it was his imagination at first.

"Arios… Pureheart…"

His name. Spoken with perfect clarity, yet by no mouth he could see.

He stepped back instinctively, eyes scanning the walls. Nothing. The chamber remained still, but the red pulse of the crystal began to accelerate.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice again—cold, mechanical, and layered, like several voices speaking in perfect unison.

Arios raised his weapon, turning in place. "Who are you?"

"A failed record. A memory discarded. You are not meant to interfere."

The crystal's light brightened sharply. For a brief moment, Arios thought he saw movement within the core—shapes shifting, forming outlines. Then it erupted.

The floor split open beneath him, throwing him backward as crimson energy surged through the room. From the fractured crystal, a creature emerged—massive, grotesque, and familiar.

A wolf.

But not like the others.

This one towered above him, its body composed entirely of that pulsing red energy, its form barely holding shape. Each breath it took distorted the space around it, like heat bending the air.

"Dire Alpha…" Arios whispered, recognizing it from the bestiary. But this one was wrong. Corrupted. It wasn't bound by the rules of summoning or mana limitation. It was possessed.

The beast lowered its head and growled. The sound shook the chamber.

Arios exhaled slowly. "So this is the 'observer's' guard dog."

The wolf lunged, and he barely sidestepped in time. The impact of its landing sent a shockwave through the floor, scattering chunks of stone. Arios countered with a slash to the side of its neck, his sword crackling with blue energy. The blade met resistance, cutting through light instead of flesh.

The wolf howled, and its body split into fragments before reforming instantly behind him.

It's not physical—it's mana condensed into a pattern, Arios realized mid-turn.

He ducked under a sweeping claw and stabbed forward, releasing a mana burst from his sword's edge. The attack tore through the wolf's chest, dispersing its form again—but the fragments didn't vanish. They circled him, glowing like embers.

Then, one by one, the fragments formed smaller wolves.

Four. Eight. Twelve.

Each one identical, smaller echoes of the original.

"Fantastic," Arios muttered, backing up slowly until his boots hit the edge of the chamber. "Cloning protocol. Figures you'd make this complicated."

He planted his foot, steadying his breath. "Alright, then."

He shifted his stance.

"Let's dance."

The clones charged in unison.

He moved like lightning, blade flashing in tight, controlled arcs. Each swing left trails of blue light that cut through the red silhouettes. The first three went down cleanly, dissolving into shards. The fourth clipped his shoulder before he could turn fully. He twisted, countering with a reverse slash that sent it flying back into the wall.

The next one came low. Arios stomped down hard, driving his heel into its head, then pivoted to block two simultaneous strikes. Sparks flew. His blade met their energy, deflecting just enough to break their rhythm. He spun the hilt in his hand and unleashed a crescent slash that wiped out half the remaining pack.

But the crystal pulse intensified again. The remaining wolves froze—then merged back together, fusing into a single, larger form.

The Dire Alpha's eyes opened again, brighter, burning now with golden fire.

"Second phase…" Arios breathed. "Of course."

The wolf's body condensed into a denser form—more stable now. Physical. He could feel the shift in the air pressure, the sheer force radiating from its presence.

It charged again. This time, faster than before.

Arios rolled to the side, barely avoiding its fangs as they tore a gouge in the stone where he had stood. He countered with a mana-charged thrust, striking the creature in the ribs. The blow landed, but the Alpha didn't stop—it rammed its head into him, sending him sprawling across the chamber floor.

His back slammed against the wall, breath leaving him in a rush.

"Strong," he muttered, spitting blood. "But not invincible."

He forced himself up, gripping his sword with both hands. The wolf circled him now, eyes burning with strange intelligence. It was studying him.

"You learn too," he said grimly. "That makes two of us."

The next exchange was faster—cleaner. Arios moved with deliberate precision, each movement fueled by analysis rather than instinct. He parried, sidestepped, countered. Bit by bit, he learned its rhythm, the faint delay between its attacks.

And when he saw the opening—he struck.

He lunged forward, blade flaring white-blue. The sword pierced through the wolf's chest, burying deep into its core.

The beast let out a roar that shook the entire chamber.

Then it exploded into light.

The shockwave knocked him backward again, but this time, he remained conscious enough to roll with it. When the dust settled, the wolf was gone. The crystal that had once pulsed with red energy was now dull, cracked and gray.

Arios stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily, his sword still drawn.

Then he heard it.

Faint footsteps.

Not illusions. Real.

He turned, raising his weapon.

From the darkness at the far edge of the chamber, a shadow detached itself from the wall and stepped into the light.

Tall, cloaked, and silent.

The figure's voice was calm, distorted slightly—as if speaking through an echo.

"You've gone farther than expected, Arios Pureheart."

Arios froze. That voice… He'd heard it once before. Through the dungeon's walls.

He straightened slowly, sword lowering but not sheathed. "So, you're the one tampering with the trial."

The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, it stepped closer, revealing a glimpse of a mask—smooth, porcelain-white with a single vertical crack down the middle.

"Tampering?" it said at last. "No. Correcting."

"Correcting?" Arios echoed. "You call hijacking an entire dungeon system correction?"

The masked figure tilted its head slightly. "The Academy has forgotten what the dungeons were for. You… have not. That makes you a threat to both sides."

"What sides?" Arios demanded.

The figure chuckled faintly, though the sound carried no warmth.

"You'll understand when you reach Floor Ten."

And then—before Arios could move—its body dissolved into mist, vanishing completely.

The chamber fell silent again.

He stood there for a long time, staring at where it had been, his thoughts racing.

Then he sighed softly. "Floor Ten, huh? Guess I don't have much of a choice."

He sheathed his sword and turned back toward the now-open passage that had appeared at the far end of the room. Beyond it, faint light shimmered—a staircase descending further into the depths.

He started walking.

Behind him, the cracked crystal pulsed once more—just once—and then went dark completely.

Meanwhile, back on the upper floors, Pokner's group advanced through the labyrinth, unaware of what Arios had just faced. Lucy stopped briefly, sensing something in the air.

"The pulse just stopped," she said quietly.

Pokner's eyes flicked up. "Then he's still alive."

Liza exhaled. "And probably getting himself into more trouble."

Pokner allowed herself a small smile. "That's… one way to put it."

The three of them continued forward, their path illuminated by the faint blue veins of the dungeon.

Below them, Arios descended deeper—toward the unknown.

And somewhere in the unseen network of the academy's systems, a new line of code appeared:

[Observation Log Update: Subject Pureheart—Active Variable. Correction in progress.]

The dungeon's pulse resumed, quieter this time.

But steady.

Alive.

Watching.

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