The Domain of Constraint had crumbled, and the memory of Darak Varn's twisted grin still lingered in Ren Zian's mind like a shadow. But there was no time to rest. The Palace of Ascension shifted again, its walls whispering and reshaping as another corridor lit up—this one gleaming with golden light, almost too alluring to be safe.
Ilyra stood by his side, the emerald glow of her power gently fading from her fingertips. Her eyes were calm now, but her voice carried a quiet warning. "This next gate... it reeks of temptation."
Ren nodded, gripping his blade. "Then we stay grounded."
As they entered the next chamber, the light changed. No longer the dull glow of danger—it was inviting. Warm. Soft. Almost... comforting.
They had entered the Staircase of Greed.
Marble steps spiraled infinitely upward, each one inlaid with different types of riches—gold, rubies, enchanted scrolls, even relics that shimmered with ancient runes. But more than the wealth, what pulled at Ren was the voices. Soft, seductive whispers floated from the steps.
"Power to crush the Emperor... Just reach out."
"Love without betrayal... Just take one more step."
Ren clenched his teeth. "It's trying to read us."
Ilyra's face had gone pale. "Not trying. It already knows."
Then came the trap.
A shimmer of light broke the spiral's calm, and a figure materialized on one of the upper steps. A man, cloaked in golden chains, with pale skin and glowing red eyes. His smile was warm, false, and wicked.
"I am Saelir, Warden of Greed," he said, spreading his arms. "Every step you take forward reveals a truth you've buried. Every treasure tempts your soul. Careful, boy... even gods have knelt before me."
Ren kept climbing, but slowly. "I'm not here to kneel."
Saelir chuckled. "Oh, you will. Eventually. Everyone kneels to what they truly want."
Ren reached the fifth step, and the first illusion hit.
Lyra appeared—her true form. Dressed in her flowing white and violet robes, her eyes shining with love and fury.
But this Lyra wasn't the real one. This was a memory. One twisted by the staircase's magic.
"Why didn't you come back sooner, Ren?" the illusion whispered. "Why did you let others touch what was mine?"
Ren's heart thudded. For a moment, he faltered.
Ilyra reached for his arm. "It's not her."
"I know," Ren muttered. "But the feeling is real."
He stepped forward—and the illusion shattered into petals.
Step by step, more visions came. Ilyra's dying form, shattered cities, a throne of skulls with Ren seated on it—crowned and alone.
Each vision tested a hidden desire or fear. Each step pulled at his guilt, his rage, his hunger to prove himself. And each step also awakened a new kind of clarity.
He wanted to be strong. He wanted to protect. But most of all—he wanted freedom from the cycle the gods had cursed him into.
Halfway up the spiral, the real danger arrived.
The gold of the stairs melted and reformed, coiling into a massive serpent-like creature—Saelir's true body. His voice echoed from its many heads.
"You've resisted temptation well... but can you resist loss?"
One of the heads snapped at Ilyra, fast and brutal.
She deflected the strike, but the impact sent her skidding across the steps.
"Ilyra!" Ren shouted, leaping forward. But the moment he tried to reach her, the steps beneath him liquified into molten gold, trapping his legs.
Saelir's voice grew darker. "You can only save her... if you leave behind a part of yourself."
From the gold, an orb rose—a swirling ball of energy, shaped like a part of his soul.
"If you take this deal, you'll lose a memory. A precious one. Maybe her. Maybe Lyra. Maybe something you can't ever replace."
Ren stared at it. One moment of weakness, and this path would devour what made him him.
But he closed his eyes—and remembered.
Lyra's voice, the night she first held his hand after the first battle.
"You don't have to carry it all alone. But don't ever let the world take away who you are, Ren. Promise me."
His heart steadied.
"I'm not making any deals with you," Ren growled. "And I won't let you touch Ilyra or anyone else."
Golden flames erupted from his arms—his Chaos Skill resonating with the Spiral.
With a roar, he shattered the molten trap, launching himself toward the serpent. Blades of chaos energy slashed across Saelir's heads, forcing them back. Ilyra, catching her breath, joined in, her vines blooming with divine energy and wrapping around one of the heads, rooting it down.
Together, they unleashed their fury.
Each strike from Ren sliced not just flesh, but illusions. The serpent's powers began to falter. Greed, when starved of desire, had nothing to feed on.
In the final blow, Ren summoned the chaos-infused memory of Lyra's voice—and struck with it.
"Your lies end here."
The serpent shattered into fragments of gold, and the staircase went still.
The path cleared. A door appeared at the top of the stairs, etched with the word: "Clarity."
Ren turned to Ilyra. "You okay?"
She smiled, breathless but steady. "You chose memory over power. That... matters."
Ren looked at the fading illusion of Lyra behind him and whispered, "I haven't forgotten. I never will."
And with that, they stepped through the door—into the next trial.