---
Arthur's eyes snapped open as if torn from a dream suspended between life and death.
Air rushed into his lungs in a sharp inhale… but brought no comfort.
The moment he tried to rise, a savage pain erupted inside his skull.
A thousand needles—
No, far more—
All driving themselves into his skull at once.
And just as the pain arrived, it vanished.
But its echo remained, pulsing beneath his skin like a sick heartbeat.
Arthur sat there, breath uneven, not out of fear—
but from the sheer weight of something he could not name.
Something pressing against his consciousness…
cold, hollow, ancient.
His gaze drifted toward the gate before him.
It wasn't like the others.
It wasn't stone.
It wasn't shadow.
It was a knot of twisting darkness, layered and writhing, as if hundreds of strangled hands were reaching outward, desperate to claw their way into existence.
Arthur stepped closer.
"System?... System?!"
His voice dropped, sharp and cold.
"You still haven't learned from the last time?"
Silence.
Five long minutes.
Five minutes where nothing moved, nothing breathed, nothing existed.
Arthur sighed… and stepped through.
"Let's see what your game is"
---
He did not fall.
He did not feel himself transported.
He felt the world itself tearing around him, like his body was being reshaped incorrectly, piece by piece.
Then—
Stillness.
He stood on an unfamiliar ground.
Not stone.
Not bone.
Black sand that breathed beneath his feet—
rising, falling… like the chest of a dying creature.
Above him stretched a sky of rotting crimson, carved with long black fractures that crawled slowly like wounds refusing to close.
And in the center of this dead land…
A cemetery.
Unmarked graves stood in rows—
no names, no dates, only circular carvings etched in frantic patterns.
Some glowed faintly.
Others released thin streams of smoke that twisted upward before dissolving.
Arthur stepped forward.
The sand whispered beneath him:
"Go back…"
He froze.
The sand clung to his shadowed leg—
then recoiled violently, as though terrified of whatever slept inside him.
A cold wind rose.
Not cold like winter.
Cold like something touching the soul before the flesh.
The ground split open.
A hand emerged.
Then an arm.
Then a hunched body built from tattered shadow that dripped like liquid smoke.
No face.
Only two hollow pits where eyes should be—
bleeding darkness.
Yet it stared at him.
One full minute passed.
A minute that could shatter anyone's sanity.
Arthur simply raised an eyebrow.
"a fan ? Unfortunately for you… you're too ugly for a picture."
The creature didn't move.
But the air behind it twisted, and whispers filled the cemetery:
"Human… soul… corrupted… incomplete… broken… give… us…"
Arthur grabbed his sword.
But the creature extended its hand—
not toward his body…
Toward his mind.
---
At first, Arthur saw nothing.
Then images burst into view like a door forced open:
Himself as a child…
doing things no child should ever be forced to do.
Screams in far-off rooms.
He sprinting toward his sister… her face pale, unconscious, unmoving.
He collapsing.
He rising.
He dying.
He smiling—
a smile devoid of hope.
Another voice wrapped itself around his mind, heavy and coiling like a rope:
"Show… us… your vow…
Show us the moment you wanted to change…
Show us the reason…"
Shadows from the sixth floor clung to his legs, trying to drag him backward—
as if the place itself insisted he belonged to failure.
But Arthur opened his eyes.
And golden light burst from them.
The cemetery shuddered.
The sky trembled.
The graves moaned.
The creature staggered back.
"A soul… unreadable…"
It didn't finish.
Arthur had already disappeared.
He reappeared right behind it—
the sword raised.
But the creature dissolved into smoke before the strike landed.
It manifested behind him.
Reached out—
And the shadows erupting from Arthur's back tore through its arm effortlessly.
Then—
the creature exploded into pure black smoke.
Smoke that didn't disperse.
Instead, it coiled around Arthur, trying to seep into his chest like a mental toxin.
Arthur lifted his hand—
and grasped the smoke.
As if it belonged to him.
"So… you chose to take my body?"
He squeezed.
The smoke vanished completely.
---
The graves began to shake violently.
Stone cracked.
Tombs split open.
Black shapes rose, forming humanoid shadows marked by glowing purple eyes.
[Why… why do you possess the power of the Abyss? You were meant to assist us… not be our enemy!]
Arthur's voice was empty:
"And why would I assist you?
What would I gain from the Abyss?"
[You simply want to extend your life. I can give you as many monsters as you desire—just leave this place!]
A faint glimmer flickered through Arthur's golden eyes.
"And where was this offer…
when I tore my body apart again and again… until despair was all that remained?"
The Abyssal messenger hesitated.
[What you're doing will change fate… Not all change is good. You may save one life… but doom a thousand others!]
Arthur's expression didn't change.
"Do I look like I care who dies?"
Then he laughed.
A laugh that wasn't laughter.
A cracked, disjointed, broken sound—
as if multiple voices tried to escape through one throat.
"When I lived for myself, I suffered.
When I lived for others, I suffered and was betrayed.
Now I live for myself again… and I still suffer."
The laugh deepened, twisting.
He raised a hand toward the floating face.
A wicked smile carved itself across his lips.
His golden eyes burned violet.
A thin line of blood cracked open on his forehead—
splintering, shifting, as something tried to emerge from beneath.
"I am… Michael.
Or… no.
I am Arthur.
And I will not live for anyone else… ever again."
The messenger froze.
A stabbing agony tore through him, like molten needles ripping his essence apart.
He looked up—
and saw the golden eye opening in Arthur's forehead.
And behind Arthur…
a colossal shadowed entity, too vast and too powerful to comprehend.
"A Supreme… one…"
He never finished.
He exploded.
Fragments scattered like dust.
Silence returned.
Arthur looked down at the fading remnants.
"You're still clinging to life even after losing your chance?
You really do amuse me."
Then, with a calmness too cold for a human:
"I'll spare you this time.
But if you interfere during my battle with the dragon…
I swear I'll show you something worse than death."
His eyes slowly returned to normal.
His steps weakened.
His vision dimmed.
Just before he vanished, a faint whisper reached him:
[I'm still waiting …For my appearance .]
(The speaker here is not the Emissary)
---
He awoke to a barrage of notifications piercing his ears like needles.
[Arthur… Arthur… Arthur?!]
He groaned and struggled to sit up.
The feeling inside him—
that crawling, dragging heaviness—
made ignoring the system easier than replying.
[What happened to you? You were unconscious for two whole days! Your body kept trembling!]
"Two days?!"
His voice cracked with frustration, not fear.
Everything hurt.
His bones.
His head.
Something inside his skull felt like it wanted to tear its way out.
"I'm done with this.
I hate this place."
Without waiting for the system—
Arthur hurled himself forward…
And stepped through the massive gate.
Thus…
the seventh floor began.
---