The black door opened.
They stepped through together.
And the world vanished.
There was no floor.
No ceiling.
No walls.
Just endless white stretching in every direction—an infinite expanse without horizon or depth. No wind. No gravity shift. No visible source of light. It simply was.
Kaelus blinked. "…Where's the room?"
Darius looked down.
There was ground beneath them—but it felt conceptual. Not stone. Not air. Just something acknowledging their presence.
Rein rolled his shoulders. "Hate places like this."
In the very center of the infinite space—
A figure sat cross-legged.
Still.
Quiet.
Waiting.
Slim. Athletic. Around six feet tall. Short black hair resting neatly against his forehead. A white cloth wrapped around his eyes, tied securely at the back. Barefoot. Calm.
As they approached, the man stood.
His movements were effortless.
"I am Samsura," he said evenly. "Number Five of Atlas."
His voice carried without echo.
"You can turn back now… or you can die trying to get past me."
Eryndor didn't hesitate.
"It's already started and done. No use giving up now."
Samsura tilted his head slightly toward him.
"So you're the one who took an arm from Asmodeus… Eryndor Nasarik."
A faint smile formed on his lips.
"I see."
He stepped forward once.
"Well then… let's begin, shall we?"
They moved into stance—
—and Samsura disappeared.
No sound.
No distortion.
No buildup.
He was simply gone.
And then—
He was in front of Eryndor.
His fingers extended in a simple forward thrust aimed at Eryndor's face.
Eryndor's storm barrier reacted instantly—
—and was bypassed like it didn't exist.
Eryndor barely managed to cross his arms and block—
The impact detonated space itself.
He was launched several meters backward across the endless floor, boots carving invisible friction lines into the surface before he stabilized.
Silence.
Then—
Eryndor smiled.
"…Guys."
He rolled his shoulders once.
"This is where it all begins."
Samsura's head tilted faintly in approval.
"You blocked that well. I expected nothing less from you."
He clasped his hands loosely behind his back.
"I control the element of space."
A ripple pulsed outward from him—subtle but absolute.
"And you should know… I can read vibrations."
He chuckled lightly.
"You'll manage. I'm blind, for gods' sake."
Kaelus narrowed his eyes.
Darius' shadows shifted uneasily.
Rein stepped forward slightly.
Samsura continued calmly:
"But let me clarify something."
He raised one finger.
"You've received a bit of false information on Atlas."
The infinite white space trembled faintly.
"The minimum standard to join Atlas is low deity, yes."
He began walking slowly in a loose circle around them—though none of them heard his steps.
"As you've seen from Rooms Ten through Six… transcendents… low deities… high low deities."
He stopped.
"But from Room Five to One… we are mid-level deities."
A faint pressure began to descend—not overwhelming, but undeniable.
"And our leader?"
For the first time, a thin smile appeared beneath the blindfold.
"He has ascended to the rank of a high deity."
The space around them bent slightly, like reality acknowledging that fact.
"If he were not suppressed by the laws of Nohr… he would have run rampant in this world."
Silence hung.
Then Samsura spread his arms slightly.
"But enough talking."
His presence sharpened.
"Attack me. All of you. At once."
The air thickened.
This wasn't Grim's battlefield.
This wasn't a throne room.
This was execution ground.
Eryndor stepped forward.
Storm energy condensed around him—but more refined now. Controlled.
He exhaled once.
Then he shifted into stance.
Eight Fold Flow Martial Arts.
The upgraded form of Astral Sky discipline.
His breathing synced with unseen currents. His weight distributed across invisible points. His hands floated slightly outward, relaxed but ready—each motion capable of branching into eight possible continuations.
Darius' expression faded.
Shadows climbed his body.
His skin darkened as his Shadow Embodiment activated. Purple eyes gleamed from within the darkness, chains forming behind him—swaying as if in anticipation of binding something far greater than before.
Kaelus unsheathed Tempest Blade.
The sound rang clear through the infinite space.
Wind gathered around the blade's edge, rotating faster… sharper… cleaner than ever before.
He lowered into stance.
Focused.
Rein stepped forward.
Dominion energy coated his arms.
The ground beneath him vibrated faintly as authority settled into place.
His stance widened—balanced between offense and control.
Stellar said nothing.
Frost crept slowly up her arms.
The air around her temperature dropped steadily. Ice began forming midair in tiny fractures that didn't fall—just waiting for command.
Facing a mid-level deity who controlled space itself.
Samsura stood barefoot in the endless white.
Smiling.
"Good," he said softly.
The space around him folded inward—
And the real fight began.