Verax waves his hand and cubes ripple outward, distorting the space. Slowly, they reshape—not into battle platforms, but into reflective walls. Before he can even blink, tall mirror-like surfaces surround Ollie, each one showing a different version of himself, and each with the representation of a different card face above them: King, Queen, Jack, and Joker.
One snarls with rage. Another trembles in fear. A third looks hollow and dispondent. A fourth stares back at him with cold, calculating eyes.
"What is this?" Ollie asks, stepping back.
"A test, or a game," Verax says. "Not one of cards or OverKnights. This is older than that. I want to see who you really are. I call it 'Who are you?' Kinda catchy, right?"
Ollie walks up to the mirrors, watching the reflections flicker.
"Each Ollie reflects a part of you, or the whole of you. That one," Verax points out, "is you when you lashed out at those kids who bullied you. Another, when you felt guilty for leaving your sister's side to come here. And the last one, when you nearly gave up after your last loss."
"Stop," Ollie mutters.
"And the last one, well, that's the Oliver that may come to pass. You think the climb is about strength. But it's about clarity. The tower reflects. You see what you bring with you. This tower is the pillar of utopia, but it's a facade. I want you to think about what you want to do here."
"I—"
"Can you do that, Ollie? Can you look inside yourself and see who you really want to be, or who you already are?"
"I—I just—it's—"
"Come on, kid! I sort of believe in you, but do you actually believe in yourself?"
Ollie closes his eyes, breathing hard, each mirror's image burned into his mind.
"You're not here for her anymore, are you?" Verax's voice is low, sharp. "You're here for something else now. But you haven't figured it out yet, yes? I can show you a path, Ollie: You can continue on this journey, sweating, crying, and raging through battle after battle, level after level, grasping for a truth that eludes you. Or," Verax's voice softens, "you can confront the hardest truth right here. This place offers a different kind of peace—one that comes from understanding yourself completely. You can cast off the pain of the past, not by avoiding it, but by embracing who you truly are, here in this void that mirrors the real world's devastation. That fourth image, the Oliver That May Be, doesn't have to come to pass if you face the Oliver you are now.
"This space calls for a true understanding, Oliver; it yearns for clarity. I cannot force your hand, but I offer you sight. It is your soul, or your mind, that must make this choice. Will you be the first Pilot to truly embrace your own truth? Pick a card."
From thin air, four shimmering cards materialize in Verax's outstretched hand: King, Queen, Jack, and Joker.
Ollie grips his fists, fighting through the pain. "I'm here because I made a promise. I won't break it. Not to her. Not to myself."
Ollie reaches out and grabs one of the cards. As he raises it, the other three cards vanish, and the card in his hand morphs into something that wasn't presented to him. It is the Ace of Spades, a change that surprises even Verax.
The mirrors fade out of existence.
Verax watches silently, then finally smirks. "Well, now, that's an interesting turn of events. No one has ever managed to create their own card. Maybe there's more to you than brute force and cockiness after all."
Ollie just stares at the card.
"Well then," says Verax, stepping back into the unlimited dark. "Let's see how far that clarity takes you. Thank you, dear Ollie, for passing my little test. It may seem strange now, but you've just managed to break free of the shackles that bind you… metaphorically speaking, of course. As a parting gift from me, I've erased the losses from your record so that you may proceed to the next floor, but don't mention that to anyone, okay? Oh, and I've given your Glaive a little gift."
After the final word, Verax is gone.
Ollie stands in the silence, staring at the space where the reflections had once been. Something shifts in him—not in his body, but in his understanding. All this time, he'd fought like someone trying to prove he was good enough, strong enough, fast enough. But he hadn't really been listening—not to Lyra, not to Glaive, and not to himself.
The next time he faced a Pilot, he wouldn't lead with power; he'd lead with purpose.
Ollie turns, eyes sharper, heart steadier. He doesn't need to climb for guilt. Or fear. Or anger. He climbs for the promise. He climbs for clarity. He strives to be better than he was and to avoid whatever future Verax showed him.
Ollie doesn't move for a while.
He just stands in silence, surrounded by drifting cubes and the lingering echo of his reflections, taking in the events that had just transpired. The silence feels thicker now—less empty, more deliberate. It's as if the tower itself is waiting to see what he'll do next.
What Verax said echoes in his thoughts.
"You're not here for her anymore, are you?"
That hurt because it felt true.
There were moments—long, stretching moments—where the promise he made to Lyra had started to blur. He told himself this was all for her. But more and more, he fought out of anger. Out of spite. To prove something to people who didn't matter: the bullies, the doctors, the world.
But that wasn't who he wanted to be.
Not anymore.
He opens his loadout again.
His fingers trace each card, not in the order he's memorized, but slowly. Thoughtfully. The cards don't just represent moves anymore. They represent moments. Setups. Sacrifices. Second chances.
His old strategy of rushing in, always attacking with brute force, was fear in disguise. Fear of failing. Of letting her down. But now? Now, he'd fight with patience.
Ollie sorts through the loadout, retooling it entirely. He removes all but one of his explosive first-strike cards. Adds more defensive options. Counter-traps. And something new—cards that let him wait. Cards that hold space.
Let them come to me.
And when Glaive rises again, it will do so with more than strength. It will rise with discipline. With purpose.
He finishes adjusting the deck and finally breathes. His voice breaks the silence. "I'm ready."
And for the first time since he entered the Tower, Ollie doesn't feel like he's chasing someone else's dream. Instead, he's climbing his own. He takes one last look around the void.
Without calling it, the elevator reappears in front of him.