Wherever it was waiting, it wasn't on the very next rung. The shift between levels was disorienting. Down below, people had felt hollow—husks with breath, shuffling corpses staring at their little glowing idols. Up here? They acted like… people. Too much like people. Couples argued in the streets, hawkers called out from neon-lit stalls, children tugged at parents' sleeves, begging for sweets. It was almost comforting. Almost. But the longer we watched, the more the uncanny bled through. Their movements were slightly off, too deliberate, as though the gestures had been rehearsed. Their laughter came in predictable, patterned bursts. Realistic, but not real.

And through it all, no one cared that a hooded band of strangers wandered through their streets. No one so much as blinked at the glint of my Walker emblem. That wasn't just strange—it was wrong. Walkers were cluster-wide symbols, recognized in every Dominion I'd ever heard of. The Domini themselves might argue when they thought we were out of earshot, but even they agreed on that. We were noticed everywhere. Feared everywhere. But here? Here we were invisible.

We stopped by a crepe stand. Unlike the stink of fermentation and rot below, here the air was thick with butter and sugar. The smell was real enough to make my stomach tighten.

Fractal tilted her head, inhaling deep, before finally voicing what we were all thinking. "Okay. I find this even weirder than the undercity below. We're only what—three rungs up?"

"Yeah." Sven's lip curled, half-snarl, half-sneer. His gaze roved the streets, always suspicious, always hunting for the trap. "Three rungs. That's what scares me. The literal upward mobility of wealth."

Fallias groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples. "I'm starting to think our Dominus of Dreams has a real love for not-so-subtle metaphor. Like, do you think he writes this out first, or is he just that insufferably poetic on instinct?"

I gave a long, weary sigh. "I could have told you that. I've technically trained under him longer than anyone here—except Fractal. This is his style. He doesn't hide meaning. He wraps you in it until you choke on it."

Cordelia made a soft, thoughtful hum, though she didn't comment. Her eyes followed a woman with a basket of steaming breads, noting the rhythm of her steps, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes.

Wallace's voice cut through the quiet, a low rumble of stone grinding together. "So where is this 'tower of dreams' supposed to be?"

Another sigh tore out of me, heavier this time. I lifted a hand and pointed skyward. The city didn't climb—it spiraled. Each rung led higher, into thicker smog and brighter neon, into skyscrapers that tangled with bridges until they vanished into cloud.

"Dreams," I said flatly. "Upward mobility. It's all right there. The lowest want nothing but escape—something, anything to numb them. The middle want to crush the lowest underfoot while worshiping the highest. And the highest?" I lowered my hand and shook my head. "They don't just want to rule. They want to own everything below. To turn the world into proof of their superiority. This isn't an infected world, Wallace. It isn't even a world at all. It's a schema. A metaphor made city. An oligarchic, corporatist hell where people themselves are just manifestations of desire."

For a moment, none of us spoke.

Then V gave a short, sharp laugh. "Wonderful. Just wonderful. We aren't just climbing a tower. We're climbing through the anatomy of ambition."

Fractal, still chewing her crepe, frowned. "So… what happens at the very top?"

Nobody answered.

The silence was louder than the crowd around us.

Finding a way up should have been simple. In most cities, you look for stairwells, lifts, bridges. But here? The rungs weren't connected by any visible infrastructure. Streets bent back on themselves. Elevators only brought you to the floor you were already on. Every skybridge we crossed spat us out on the same tier. It was like being trapped in a maze that hated logic.

"This is ridiculous." Sven spat the words, glancing at the half-lit signs above the nearest plaza. Transit Hub, Level 3, they promised. Except when we followed the arrow, it dumped us back where we started.

"You sound surprised." V's tone was dry, one gloved hand testing the grip of a smoke grenade on his belt. "We're inside the dreamscape of a Dominus who thinks metaphor is diet bread. Of course the way upward isn't marked 'Exit Here.'"

"I don't care if it's painted in neon," Wallace grunted, his shield resting against his shoulder. "There has to be a path. These people live here. They climb. How else do they reach the rungs above?"

Fractal looked at the crowd around us. "Do they?"

We all turned to her. She wasn't wrong.

The citizens here weren't climbing anywhere. They milled through the plazas like programmed loops, going from food stall to food stall, advertisement to advertisement. Some sat at outdoor cafés with steaming mugs, talking in pleasant tones, but the moment I focused too hard, the words blurred together into nonsense syllables. Background chatter written without meaning.

"Not people," Cordelia murmured, voice carrying just enough edge to send a chill down my spine. "Not even husks. Just echoes. Fragments of want, playing out the motions of a life they never actually lived."

Fractal's brow furrowed. "So… no one climbs higher? Ever?"

"Not unless they're designed to." Cordelia's gaze flicked upward. "These aren't souls. They're set dressing. A system of illusions made to distract."

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Wallace clenched a fist, restless. "Then where's the real path?"

"Hidden," I said, because I was starting to see the pattern. "Everything here is built around desire. That means the only way forward is tied to what they want. We just need to…" My words trailed off as I scanned the plaza.

The advertisements blaring above shifted every few seconds. Most were nonsense products—instant personality enhancers, bottled ambition, eternal status. But one kept repeating, flickering through screens across every wall:

Climb Higher. Earn More. See the View.

I pointed. "That."

Sven narrowed his eyes. "An ad?"

"It's not an ad," I said firmly. "It's a doorway."

Fallias groaned. "Gods, of course it is. Of course the ladder to the next rung is literally hidden inside capitalism's wet dream."

Wallace gave me a questioning look. "You're certain?"

"Certain enough."

We pushed through the crowd, heading toward the largest billboard. As we drew closer, I realized it wasn't just a sign. The screen shimmered faintly, the edges blurred like half-seen glass. A door. A portal disguised as propaganda.

"Figures." V smirked. "The only way up is to buy in."

I reached out—and the screen rippled against my hand. A pulse of light scanned across my palm. Then a harsh, mechanical voice rang out:

"Citizen verification required. Present identification or be detained."

The plaza went still. Every simulated civilian froze in place, mid-step, mid-sentence, mid-sip of coffee. Then their heads turned, in eerie unison, toward us.

"Oh… crap," Fractal whispered.

From the alleys around the plaza, they came. Figures in armored coats, faces hidden behind smooth glass masks, weapons humming in their hands. Not rifles. Not magic. Something between—barrels glowing with liquid light, circuitry pulsing like veins across the frame. Firearms designed not for war, but enforcement.

The police.

And they had us surrounded.

"Walkers," the voice boomed from their squad leader, his mask broadcasting the sound in a sterile monotone. "Unauthorized traversal of the Ascension System is prohibited. Surrender now."

Wallace instinctively shifted into the front, shield raised. "So much for subtlety."

Sven's pistol gleamed faintly with triplication glyphs, already sliding into his hand. "Told you the ad was a trap."

"Everything's a trap," V muttered. "The real question is how fast we spring it back."

I kept my tone calm, measured, even though adrenaline was spiking hard. "We can't fight the whole rung. There are too many eyes."

Cordelia's voice cut sharp in my mind. Then we don't fight the rung. We fight the idea.

The police advanced, weapons lifting. The hum of charging cores filled the air, a whine that set my teeth on edge.

"Last chance," the leader intoned. "Comply."

Fractal's hands clenched at her sides. "They're not real, right? Just dreams?"

"Real enough to shoot us dead," Wallace growled.

"Then we move."

I gave the signal.

***

The plaza erupted.

Sven fired first, his bullets splitting midair into three glowing copies each. Sparks showered as they tore into the nearest enforcer, dropping him in a heap of fractured light. Wallace slammed forward with his shield, barrier glyphs rippling outward to block the incoming barrage. Beams of hardlight crashed against the dome, painting the air with firefly bursts.

V vanished into smoke, reappearing behind a squad to jam explosives beneath their boots. The detonation sent shards of street and illusion flying.

Fallias conjured a wave of earth, stone spikes tearing up through the plaza tiles to break their line. "I hate this place already!" he shouted, voice cracking as his power strained against the dream's artificial physics.

Cordelia lifted her hand, her psychic will snaring the nearest officer. His mask turned slowly toward his own allies before opening fire, confusion rippling through their ranks.

And Fractal—sweet Fractal—stood in the middle, her eyes glowing faint gold as she pulled light into radiant spears and hurled them like comets. Every impact shattered another mask.

I reached into my lexicon, pages flickering around me like a cyclone, and unleashed a burst of written fire. The words consume and obliterate burned into existence, slamming into the squad leader.

The police staggered but did not fall. Their forms glitched, rippling like corrupted code, before stabilizing again.

"They're regenerating!" Sven barked.

"Of course they are," I muttered, teeth clenched. "They're ideas of authority. Authority doesn't vanish with one protest—it reasserts itself."

The leader raised a hand. The squad's weapons shifted, splitting at the barrel into multiple segments. A thin whine built into a scream—then the air filled with searing beams of cutting light.

Wallace grunted as his barrier buckled. "Won't hold long!"

"Then break their formation!" I shouted.

V's laughter echoed like a ghost as smoke bombs hissed through the plaza, cutting sightlines. Fallias hurled another quake, splintering the ground, forcing the police to stumble. Cordelia seized the opening, slamming her will into their minds, tearing holes in the uniform illusion.

But still they came. Precise. Relentless. Marching forward through fire and rubble, as if nothing could make them hesitate.

"Gods above," Fractal whispered, breath ragged. "They don't even care they're dying."

"They're not dying," I said. "They're repeating."

And that's when I realized the truth.

We couldn't kill them. Not really. Every officer we struck down blurred into static, only to reappear at the plaza's edge, marching back into formation. The dream wouldn't let authority vanish.

"They're endless," Wallace roared, swinging his mace in brutal arcs to knock aside charging officers. "How do we win against this?"

"Not by fighting," I snapped. "By rewriting."

I called Lumivis forth. The starlit familiar appeared with a burst of gentle glow, wings of radiance unfurling. "Cut the illusion!" I commanded. "Burn the lie!"

Lumivis screeched, and its light swept across the plaza. For a brief moment, the police faltered. Their masks cracked, revealing faces underneath—not human, but hollow shells, their eyes burning with the word ORDER.

Cordelia seized the opening, her voice cutting into our minds. Strike the word. Break the concept.

"On it," I said. Pages swirled faster, words sparking in flame around me. I wrote across the air: Order is not absolute.

The letters blazed. The nearest officer convulsed, his form unraveling into smoke.

Where letters blazed, my mind was burning. Trying to use desire to combat desire…needles of ice and heat were all thrusting into my arms, my veins. I could feel copper, bursting through my chest. Before the darkness of the abyss took hold.

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