"Heart of the Tower"
The black-light door pulsed beneath Zero's hand, thrumming with an energy so immense it rattled his bones. Beyond it lay the Heart of the Tower — the source of its life, its will, its judgment. The air shimmered with distortion, and the ground beneath them seemed to breathe, rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Arven's blade was drawn, his body tense. "Zero… whatever waits inside — it's alive. And it knows us."
Zero didn't answer. His gray eyes were cold, fixed on the door. "Then we end it."
With a steady push, the door parted, revealing a chamber that defied perception. It was infinite yet contained, a vast void suspended in shadow, threaded with veins of white fire. From the center rose a structure — massive, organic, yet mechanical. It pulsed like a heart, throbbing with power that radiated through the floor, walls, and even the air itself. The Tower's will manifested before them.
The Architect's voice resonated from every corner. "So… you return. You are whole again, Zero. And yet, you dare defy me."
Zero stepped forward, sword in hand. "I am not yours. Never again."
The ground trembled. Veins of energy flared, sending arcs of light across the chamber like lightning storms. From the shadows emerged forms — hundreds of spectral soldiers, each one a fragment of climbers long consumed by the Tower. Their eyes glowed crimson, their weapons drawn.
Arven surged ahead. "Then let's make them regret it!"
The first wave crashed upon them. Steel met ethereal steel, sparks erupting where swords clashed with weapons forged from pure energy. Zero moved like a shadow, precise and lethal. Every strike was calculated — each swing of his blade severed multiple foes at once. Arven followed, aggressive and wild, tearing through enemies with brute strength and energy bursts that scorched the floor.
But for every phantom they struck down, two more rose in its place, drawn from the roots, the memories, the souls trapped within the Tower.
Zero's blade cut a path forward, his gray eyes glowing faintly. "Arven, follow my lead! Focus on the core!"
The spectral soldiers shrieked, a sound that reverberated through the void and shook the chamber's foundations. One massive figure, taller than any human, lunged at Zero with a colossal axe of shadow and flame. Zero sidestepped, barely, and swung his sword upward. The blade met the axe with a deafening clash, sending a shockwave that shattered part of the floor.
Arven leapt, bringing his twin blades down on a group of revenants, each strike a blur. He spun, blocked, slashed — the motion a chaotic dance of survival and defiance. Sparks and energy arcs lit the chamber like fireworks, but the Tower was relentless. The Heart pulsed faster, sending waves of energy outward, twisting reality itself, bending the floor and walls into nightmarish forms.
A tendril of black light shot toward Zero. He slashed through it, but it recoiled, splitting into three more, forcing him to dodge and counter. One touched his arm, searing flesh with cold fire. Pain flared, but he ignored it. Precision and speed became his rhythm — strike, parry, advance, survive.
Arven shouted from the side. "Zero! This is endless!"
"It doesn't end until the Heart dies!" Zero's voice cut through the chaos. He dashed forward, leaping across a fissure that opened beneath him, landing atop a cluster of spectral soldiers. His sword became a whirlwind of silver, cutting through anything in his path.
From the Heart, a low hum became a roar. The Architect's distorted voice boomed: "You are mine. Every climb, every victory, every soul — they are mine. You cannot escape me."
Zero halted at the edge of the Heart's glowing core. Energy tendrils lashed outward, threatening to engulf him, but he held his stance. "I never belonged to you."
Arven surged to his side, blocking a tendril that struck like lightning. "Then end this, Zero! Take the core!"
Zero's gray eyes narrowed. He leapt, sword aimed at the pulsing heart. Every phantom, every tendril, every shard of energy the Tower sent at him — he cut through. His blade struck true, and a shockwave of light burst from the Heart. The core trembled violently, shrieking in soundless agony.
The chamber shook, fissures spreading like spiderwebs across the floor and walls. The spectral soldiers screamed, some dissolving, others screaming louder before vanishing entirely. The roots above trembled, tearing through the void like veins rupturing.
The Architect's voice was now fractured, overlapping, a cacophony of anguish and fury. "Impossible… you cannot exist without me!"
Zero's blade struck again and again, driving deeper into the Heart. The pulsing veins of white fire began to collapse inward. The core's thrumming slowed, then faltered.
Arven was beside him, swinging and slashing to hold back the remaining phantoms. He cried out, "Almost there!"
The Heart's energy surged violently, sending both of them flying backward. Zero's sword slipped from his grip, spinning through the air. He rolled, then launched himself forward, gripping the blade mid-flight. With a roar that echoed through the collapsing chamber, he plunged the sword straight into the Heart.
Light erupted, blinding and pure, engulfing the void. Energy waves shattered the walls, the floor, the roots — reality itself seemed to scream. The remaining phantoms dissolved, their screams turning into echoes that faded into silence.
Zero and Arven landed hard, battered and bleeding, but alive. The Heart's pulse slowed, then ceased. The white fire dimmed, and the chamber fell silent. For the first time, the Root of the Tower was still.
Arven staggered to his knees. "We… we did it…"
Zero stood over the Heart, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He looked down at the pulsing remnants of the core, now cracked and broken, and whispered, "It's over… for now."
The black-light door appeared again, opening onto a staircase that seemed to ascend infinitely into faint, distant light.
Zero turned to Arven. "We climb again. But the Tower will remember this. Nothing we do here goes unnoticed."
Arven sheathed his blades. "Then let it remember. We'll shape the next floor ourselves."
As they stepped onto the staircase, the Tower shivered — not in anger, but in recognition. The Heart of the Tower had been broken, and its first true climber had reclaimed his will.
Zero didn't look back. The whispers of the fallen, the echoes of the Root, lingered in the void — silent now, waiting.
And above them, the next floor waited, alive and hungry, as if sensing that a new kind of climber had arrived — one who no longer feared the Tower.