Chapter 274 – Floor 61: Part 1

  Floor 61: Fork in the Road

  Meet with Mischievous Depravity.

  Objective: Unknown

  Rewards: Unknown.

  As Mathew stepped out of the elevator, the ground beneath his feet writhed, as though it was uncertain whether it should be solid or liquid. The moment his weight pressed upon it, the surface trembled and undulated like the breath of some slumbering monster.

  The air was thick and electric, humming with an unseen force that sent shivers through his bones. Mathew could feel the fabric of reality shifting and reshaping itself, never settling into any fixed form.

  Before him stretched a landscape in constant motion, it was a world that refused to obey the law of nature. Jagged mountains clawed their way toward the sky, only to melt into rolling dunes of shimmering sand. Rivers of ink-black liquid cut through the land, carving canyons that deepened with every passing second.

  Great stone spires collapsed into themselves and twisted into spires that defied geometry before unfolding into forests of skeletal trees, their branches writhing like grasping fingers. The horizon refused to remain still, and it constantly expanded and contracted. The sky bent as though space itself had become unstable.

  And above everything, something massive loomed. It was a presence so vast that it defied comprehension. It did not simply exist in the night sky; it was the night sky. It was a squirming, churning mass of impossible forms that stretched beyond Mathew’s vision. Its shape was every-changing, but its countless eyes all stared down at Mathew with a weight that was heavier than gravity.

  From the moment Mathew stepped out of the elevator, he knew that Mischievous Depravity had noticed him. The landscape trembled at its attention. The mountains buckled and collapsed; the rivers reversed their flow, and water shot into the sky in geysers.

  The world groaned with a deep, echoing cry that shook the stone and earth beneath his feet. Buildings, recently formed out of nothing, shuddered, and their walls flexed and recoiled. Trees bent as if they were in the grip of a crushing tide.

  A nauseating sensation crawled up his spine, and Mathew suddenly felt ill.

  There was a tremor that passed through the sky as the being above shifted; its vast form pressed against the boundaries of this plane and pushed. A piece of the divine being, no larger than a splinter but carrying the weight of something incomprehensible, broke free.

  It fell toward the shifting landscape below like a falling star. The air warped around it, bending space as though the environment recoiled in fear of the object. The descent didn’t create a streak of fire. Instead, only a void remained, an absence in the heavens where the sky refused to exist.

  As it came closer, the louder it became. It created a keening wail that sounded like reality was crying out in agony. Mathew’s heartbeat pounded like a war drum in his ears.

  The impact created no explosion. There was no dust or debris, just an eerie, rippling distortion where the fragment touched the earth. The ground didn’t crack; it shuddered like flesh flinching beneath a blade. A sickening wrongness bled into the air and pressed against Mathew like invisible fingers.

  The fragment twisted and stretched, coming alive in moments. Shadows wove themselves into a humanoid form, but only in the most basic sense. The figure wore a flowing cloak of void-black material that settled over its shape and rippled like liquid night. No light touched it, and no details settled into place.

  It lifted its head, and Mathew saw that there was nothing beneath the hood. No face, no features, only a black abyss that seemed deeper than the void above. It’s shape coiled and turned, sometimes gaining multiple limbs, and sometimes it was shapeless.

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  “You have returned.” The voice said. Returned. Returned. Returned. The word echoed throughout the landscape, growing louder as it travelled until it was deafening. Then, it was immediately cut off and silenced.

  Agony detonated at the base of Mathew’s skull. It wasn’t pain from a cut or a burn but something deeper and raw. A pressure swelled in his spine, then burst outward. It sent electric fire lancing through his nerves. His vision swam, and his knees buckled. A ragged gasp tore its way from his throat.

  The Buzz.

  It was a terrible, unbidden awareness that filled his mind like liquid lead. It was crushing, suffocating knowledge that forced him to feel the infinite gulf of power between himself and the figure standing in front of him.

  “I am satisfied with your performance. You have served me well.” Served. Served. Served.

  “I did what I had to do. Take your Aether, and let me go to the next Floor.” Mathew managed to say, every word squeezed out only through extreme effort.

  Rather than respond immediately, Mischievous Depravity approached closer. Each step the shapeless mass took toward him made the Buzz more unbearable until Mathew felt like he was going to collapse.

  Finally, when it became intolerable, the deity stopped.

  “So long have you struggled. Endured so much. And for what.” For what. For What. For What.

  The silence that came after was crushing, and Mathew could feel the eyes of the god above piercing through him. There was nothing he could do to stop its gaze as Mischievous Depravity began to search his mind, scour his thoughts and explore his soul.

  “For Her.” For her. For Her. For Her.

  The cloaked figure reached forward and pulled as if he were plucking a thread from in front of it that connected its shadowed limb to Mathew’s mind. A shimmering strand of energy appeared, silver and bright. The figure studied it for a moment before throwing it into the air above them.

  It formed an image of a young woman, and Mathew shuddered as his eyes locked onto it.

  She was young, in her twenties, and she was beautiful in a way that was effortless and natural. Her long brown hair was thick and soft, and it flowed down her back in waves that caught the light in shades of chestnut and mahogany. Loose strands framed her face and curled gently at her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

  Her features were delicate, with high cheekbones and full lips that were always on the edge of a smile. The young woman’s eyes were green and vibrant but tired. Mathew watched her move with a quiet determination as her slender frame was wrapped in a fitted black coat that fluttered slightly with each step.

  Both of her hands rested firmly on the handles of the wheelchair in front of her. She guided it forward with care as the older woman seated within it was little more than a wisp of who she once was. Illness had stripped her away piece by piece, leaving her skin almost grey and her cheekbones sunken.

  They made their way through Central Park, heading toward the Tower that loomed in the distance. It rose unnaturally high above the trees, a structure that didn’t belong there but had become a focal point for so many people.

  Finally, as the pair travelled along the curving path through the park, the young woman turned her head, and for the briefest of moments, Mathew felt her gaze land on him.

  “Emily.” Mathew whispered. He hadn’t spoken her name in a long time. Centuries, possibly even longer. She was the entire reason he had entered the Tower in the first place. To find her and help achieve her wish of restoring her mother’s health.

  The moment passed as quickly as it had come. She turned back to the path ahead, and her grip on the wheelchair never faltered. Her focus returned to her destination, the Tower just in front of her. Her face didn’t show any sign of the thoughts she had, only her determination as she pushed her mother forward, step by step.

  “You could join her. It is within my power.” Power. Power. Power.

  Mathew squeezed his eyes shut as the image above them faded. He was tempted by the offer, more tempted than he had ever been by anything before.

  “What do you want?” Mathew whispered.

  “Become my Apostle.” Apostle. Apostle. Apostle.

  When the echo was finally silenced, and Mathew hadn’t responded, Mischievous Depravity reached out its long arm, made of darkness and cloaked in shadows, and swiped it across the sky above them. The void shifted and changed, revealing new images.

  “Perhaps, instead of the past, the present will motivate you to agree.” Present. Present. Present.

  Emily was shown again, this time draped in deep sapphire robes embroidered with silver thread. The intricate patterns shifted like constellations across the night sky. Power radiated from her, unseen but unmistakable. It crackled in the air like the calm before the storm.

  Her long brown hair was now woven into an elaborate braid adorned with bands of platinum engraved with arcane sigils. Her face was still as beautiful as ever, but the weariness had been replaced with strength and certainty.

  The air around her thrummed with mana.

  The image faded once again, and Mathew stared longingly into the darkness where she had stood. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and made his choice.