The city of Norn was already awake when Drax Magna left the house.
He didn't announce anything dramatic.
No speech.
No farewell crowd.
Just a quiet walk out the front door with the black jade pendant resting against his chest and his hands tucked into his pockets like he had nowhere urgent to be—despite the fact that everything about him was moving toward something dangerous.
The streets felt normal.
Too normal.
That was what made it unsettling.
A few minutes later, he reached the restaurant Clay—a small place tucked between taller buildings, known more for late-night conversations than anything important.
Inside, Isis was already waiting.
He looked up the moment Drax entered.
A grin formed instantly.
"Good to see you, brother."
Drax gave a small nod, sitting across from him.
"You too."
There was no warmth forced into it. No fake enthusiasm. Just familiarity earned through surviving things most people couldn't even imagine.
Isis leaned back in his chair. "You ready for this?"
Drax didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the window instead, watching the city move like nothing was about to change.
Then—
"Yeah," he said. "But stay sharp. We don't know what floor seven is. If we get separated… survive first. Everything else comes after."
Isis nodded once.
"Got it."
A second voice flickered through Isis's expression—different posture, sharper gaze.
The alternate personality surfaced briefly, calm but alert.
"Understood."
From another seat nearby, Alexis stood and joined them without hesitation.
"You two are as cheerful as always," she said lightly. "Are you ready?"
Isis cracked his neck. "Yeah."
Drax stood. "Let's go."
Twenty minutes later, the world changed.
The group stood at the edge of the Dead Sea near the border of the land of the dead—where the ocean stopped behaving like an ocean and started feeling like something that remembered too much.
The water was still.
Too still.
Like it was waiting.
Beneath it, something massive moved once.
Then stopped.
Alexis glanced down. "I still hate this place."
Isis exhaled. "Same."
Drax didn't respond. His gaze stayed locked on the horizon beneath the water.
The black jade pendant around his neck shifted slightly with the wind.
Then—
The ocean beneath them began to sink inward.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
A spiral formed deep below, opening like a sealed eye finally deciding to look back.
A presence awakened.
The Leviathan.
Its existence didn't rise to the surface fully. It didn't need to.
It only opened its eyes.
And that was enough.
The pressure rolled through the sea like a command.
All three of them felt it at once—recognition. Not hostility. Not hunger.
Permission.
The Leviathan accepted them.
The water parted silently beneath their feet, forming a passage downward.
Isis swallowed once. "I really hate when giant things decide we're allowed to live."
Drax stepped forward first.
"Move."
They followed.
Resting Zone — Floor 7 Transition
The descent didn't feel like falling.
It felt like being placed somewhere else entirely.
When they emerged, they were no longer in the ocean.
They were inside a vast resting chamber.
The architecture wasn't natural, but it wasn't artificial either—it felt like reality had been reshaped and then told to behave.
People were everywhere.
Hundreds.
No… thousands.
All of them different, but all of them carrying the same pressure in their bodies.
Survivors.
Candidates.
Predators waiting for instruction.
Drax felt eyes lock onto him the moment he entered.
Some hostile.
Some curious.
Some calculating.
And one in particular—
Sitting alone at a desk near the center of the room.
A man with an unreadable expression.
He didn't move, but his gaze followed Drax precisely.
Drax looked back.
Held it.
Then walked past him without stopping.
Straight to a corner of the room where fewer eyes gathered.
Noiseless confidence.
That single act alone shifted the atmosphere.
People noticed.
They always did.
A voice suddenly echoed through the chamber.
Calm.
Neutral.
Not human.
"I am the administrator of floors seven to ten."
The air tightened slightly.
"Candidates, be aware: what comes next will not resemble what you have experienced."
Silence spread.
Not fear exactly—
Anticipation.
The voice continued.
"I will not disclose the nature of Floor Seven."
A pause.
Then—
"You will understand when it begins."
A man near the center stood abruptly.
Annoyance.
"We have a right to know what we're walking into!"
The words barely finished leaving his mouth.
A sharp sound cracked through the room.
Then—
His head exploded outward in a single instant.
No warning.
No motion.
Just removal.
Bodies recoiled.
Shock rippled instantly across the room.
Even seasoned candidates stepped back.
Drax didn't move.
He only turned his head slightly toward the scene.
Expression unchanged.
The air warped again.
And the administrator revealed itself properly—not as a body, but as a suspended spiritual authority layered into the space itself.
A presence that didn't belong to any floor.
A system given form.
"Mindless candidates have no right to remain here."
The voice was calm again.
Almost bored.
Then the pressure faded as if nothing had happened.
Silence returned.
Thicker this time.
Heavier.
Across the room, whispers began—but none were confident anymore.
Alexis leaned slightly toward Drax.
"…That was unnecessary."
Isis muttered, "Yeah. But it also answered the question."
Drax finally spoke, eyes still forward.
"No," he said quietly. "It told us something more important."
He glanced once toward the sealed exit above.
"From Floor Seven onward… they don't care if we understand."
A faint pause.
"They care if we survive."
The administrator's voice echoed one last time:
"Prepare."
The room trembled.
And somewhere beyond the chamber—
Floor Seven began to open.