Twenty-five floors later, Rick had died another thirty-six times, his card collection had grown to one hundred and twelve cards, and he was genuinely starting to wonder if the God of Trials had a personal vendetta against him specifically. Floor Twenty-Six had been filled with electric eels that lived in the walls.
Floor Thirty introduced him to something called a "Siren Swarm," which was exactly as terrible as it sounded. Floor Thirty-Seven had featured a maze where the walls were actually mimics that tried to eat him. Floor Forty-Two was just a room full of pressure plates that summoned progressively larger sea monsters every time he stepped wrong, which had been often.
But the worst had been Floor Forty-Eight. It was a simple room with a single treasure chest in the middle. Rick had learned his lesson about obvious traps by now, so he'd been careful.
He'd checked for tripwires, for magic circles, for suspicious tiles. He'd even thrown a rock at the chest first to see if it would trigger anything.
Nothing had happened. So naturally, when he opened the chest, the entire room had filled with poison gas and the chest had turned out to be a monster that bit his hand off. He'd died three times just trying to get out of that room, and the treasure inside had been a single copper coin with a smiley face painted on it.
"The God of Trials is an asshole," Rick had declared after that incident.
"Finally, you understand," Ace had said.
...
...
Now they stood before the entrance to Floor Fifty, the final floor of the Vault of Eternal Suffering. The doorway was different from all the others they'd encountered.
Instead of the usual stone archway, this one was made of what looked like solid gold, covered in intricate carvings that depicted scenes of various heroes suffering in creative ways. Above the door, written in letters that seemed to glow with an inner light, were the words:
"Congratulations, You Made It This Far. Now Suffer More."
"Encouraging," Rick said flatly.
Coralia stood next to him, her tentacles coiled nervously. Over the past twenty-five floors, she'd proven to be an excellent party member. She followed orders without question, her tentacles were incredibly useful for grabbing things or pulling Rick out of danger, and most importantly, she didn't gamble away their supplies or get drunk at inappropriate times.
Speaking of which, Fortuna was still wrapped in tentacles. Rick had ordered Coralia to keep her that way after Floor Thirty-Two, when Fortuna had tried to bet their healing potions in a game of dice against a group of sentient crabs.
The goddess had initially protested through her tentacle gag, but after a few hours, she'd seemed to accept her fate with surprising grace. Rick suspected she was either planning revenge or had fallen asleep. With Fortuna, it was hard to tell.
"Master Rick," Coralia said softly, her purple eyes fixed on the golden door. "Are you certain you wish to proceed? The final floor is said to be the most dangerous."
"I've died one hundred and ninety-three times already," Rick said, checking his card inventory one more time. "What's a few more deaths at this point?"
"Your optimism is inspiring."
"That wasn't optimism. That was resignation."
Ace floated beside his head, the talking card somehow managing to look concerned despite being a piece of cardboard. "Rick, I should warn you that boss rooms typically have special rules."
"You might not be able to respawn inside the chamber. If you die, you could be kicked back to the entrance of Floor Fifty."
"Great. So I'll have to fight my way back through whatever traps are in there every single time I die."
"Probably, yes."
Rick took a deep breath, then pushed open the golden door. It swung inward with a sound like a thousand bells chiming at once, revealing a chamber so massive that Rick couldn't see the far wall. The ceiling stretched up into darkness, and the floor was made of perfectly polished black marble that reflected the light from floating orbs that drifted through the air like lazy fireflies.
In the center of the chamber, sitting on a throne made of twisted metal and what might have been bones, was a figure in dark armor. The armor seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and Rick could see his own distorted reflection in the breastplate. The figure's helmet had no visible eye holes, just a smooth surface that somehow felt like it was staring directly into Rick's soul.
"Welcome, challenger," the figure said in a voice that echoed through the chamber like distant thunder. "I am the Guardian of the Final Floor, the Keeper of Fragment Seven, the embodiment of this Vault's purpose."
"You have survived forty-nine floors, died one hundred and ninety-three times, and somehow convinced an octopus girl to carry around a tied-up goddess."
"I'll be honest, I didn't see that last part coming."
"Neither did I," Rick admitted.
The Guardian stood up from the throne, and Rick realized with growing horror that the figure was at least twelve feet tall. A massive sword materialized in the Guardian's hand, the blade covered in runes that pulsed with red light.
"The rules are simple," the Guardian continued. "Defeat me, claim the fragment, leave the Vault victorious."
"Fail, and you'll be trapped here forever, dying repeatedly for my entertainment until you go insane or give up."
"The God of Trials is watching, by the way. He thinks you're hilarious."
"Of course he does," Rick muttered. He pulled out a handful of cards, feeling mana flow through them as he prepared for what was definitely going to be a long and painful fight.
"Coralia, stay back and keep that bitch safe. This is going to get messy."
"I believe in you, Master Rick!" Coralia said, her tentacles tightening protectively around the still-wrapped goddess.
"Your faith is touching but probably misplaced."
The Guardian raised the massive sword, and the runes along its blade began to glow brighter. "Let us begin your final trial, Unkillable Moron. Show me if your immortality means anything against true power."
Rick grinned despite himself. After one hundred and ninety-three deaths, forty-nine floors of traps and monsters, and countless hours of suffering, he'd finally reached the end.
Sure, he was probably about to die a bunch more times. Sure, the boss looked like it could crush him with one hand. Sure, Fortuna was making muffled sounds that might have been encouragement or might have been her trying to place bets on how quickly he'd die.
But he'd made it this far. And if there was one thing Rick Rolland had learned since being reincarnated in this stupid world, it was that he was too stubborn to quit.
"Alright, you oversized tin can," Rick said, channeling mana into his cards. "Let's see how many times I have to die before I figure out how to beat you."
The Guardian's laughter filled the chamber as it charged forward, sword raised high. Rick dove to the side, threw his first combo of cards, and welcomed death number one hundred and ninety-four with the resigned acceptance of a man who had long since stopped caring about dignity.
Twenty-five floors down. One boss fight to go. The Vault of Eternal Suffering was about to live up to its name one more time.