The descent was not quiet.
While the abyss remained soundless around them, the platform hummed with a low vibration that set Roger's teeth on edge. The lift, a reinforced alloy contraption once used by sanctioned research teams, creaked like an old beast reluctantly waking from sleep. The only sound louder was the beating of Roger's heart — steady, controlled, but alert.
They had officially left the world above.
Around them, the shaft's walls stretched endlessly downward, lined with glimmering glyphs that flickered in and out like fireflies caught in a circuit. Some were ancient and failing, their magic pulsing weakly. Others looked newer — layered on top, as if the Pit itself had needed reinforcement. Or containment.
The air grew denser with every meter, charged with latent energy. It wasn't just humidity or temperature. It was like the air was watching them.
The Director sat cross-legged beside a low projection table, completely unfazed by the descent. With one gloved hand, he unfolded a relic — a circular projection plate inlaid with shifting filaments of starmetal and sapphire. As it opened, the map flickered to life.
A three-dimensional, semi-transparent schematic of the Pit rose in the air above them. The first twenty floors shimmered in slow rotation — layers of environmental data, atmospheric tags, and hazard zones annotated in shifting colors.
Then the map jittered. Glitched.
And the remaining ten floors unfolded with a stuttering, unnatural hesitation.
"You'll notice the shift begins here," the Director said, tapping Floor Twenty-One with a fingertip. His voice was casual, but his eyes remained focused. "The walls bend. Geometry fails. Even gravity no longer behaves predictably. Time... starts to lose its edges."
Aria stepped closer, watching the map distort slightly as if resisting display.
"The deeper you go," the Director continued, "the less reliable anything becomes. Even your own senses."
Roger crossed his arms. "And yet you're sending us in."
The boy's eyes flicked toward him, amused. "We're not sending anyone. You chose this."
Roger said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
"Each of the last five floors was mapped by a diver who didn't survive," the Director added. He adjusted a dial, and fragments of visual data shimmered briefly — chaotic, corrupted, torn between perspectives. "Their memories were extracted through neural feedback. Some through dream-stitching. All came at a cost."
Roger paled slightly, recognizing one of the names tagged to Floor Twenty-Three: Colonel Setra. He'd trained under her. She'd vanished two years ago.
"You're basing our descent on dead men's dreams?"
"Only the most accurate ones," the Director replied without irony. "Dreams often see what eyes can't."
He traced his finger to Floor Twenty-Five. A strange symbol pulsed faintly on the map — not a floor schematic, but something older. Something that didn't belong to the Pit's known geometry.
Roger stared. The glyph twisted unnaturally, forming fractals that didn't loop back on themselves.
"What's really there?"
The Director didn't answer. His expression darkened slightly. Instead, he gestured toward several storage crates arrayed at the edge of the lift.
"Choose your relic," he said. "One only. We don't know what Floor Twenty-Five does to redundancies. Trust your instincts."
The crates opened with a whisper of pressure release, revealing six items suspended in containment fields.
Kai's eyes widened as he looked over them:
— A bracer inscribed with shifting runes
— A glassy orb filled with slow-turning mist
— A knife with a blade that seemed to flicker between solid and vapor
— A collar of feathers that rippled with heat
— A black cube that emitted no light at all
— A single coin that shimmered with both faces visible at once
He hesitated. "Uh, can I… check if I'm allowed to?"
The Director's gaze flicked briefly toward him. "Allowed? There's no 'allowed' down here. Only what you take and what takes you. Choose carefully."
There was a pause — something reverent in the way the group stepped forward.
Aria approached first. Her fingers brushed the mist-knife, then hovered over the feathered collar. But her hand returned to the blade. When she gripped it, the containment field released, and the weapon pulsed in her grasp like a living thing.
She nodded once, satisfied.
Roger studied the objects in silence. His eyes lingered on the coin, the bracer… then settled on the orb. Its soft internal mist coiled like a storm caught in slow motion. He reached out, palm steady.
As he touched it, the Director spoke.
"The orb manipulates perception of time — slowing it, speeding it, or folding moments like pages in a book. Very useful in negotiation, combat, or escape. But beware — it demands patience and control. It listens to how you act, not why."
Roger's hand clenched slightly. "I'll manage."
Kai stepped up, eyes still flicking nervously across the remaining relics. The cube frightened him. The coin made his stomach turn.
Finally, he reached for the bracer.
The runes glowed faintly as he slid it on. It shrunk slightly, fitting perfectly to his wrist.
The Director nodded approvingly. "Protection, resilience. The bracer can absorb and redirect energy — physical or spiritual. It's a shield and a hammer, if you learn to wield it as such."
Roger glanced sideways. "Why aren't you choosing one?"
The Director smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His fingers hovered near the objects, tapping between them like a piano player deciding which note not to play.
"I already have what I need."
---
They set up camp just beyond the drop point of Floor One.
The clearing was nestled between thick groves of phosphorescent moss and towering fungi that pulsed with a slow bioluminescent rhythm. Small droplets of moisture hung in the air like glass beads, catching and refracting the faint light into drifting rainbows.
The walls of the chamber were curved — not naturally, but unnaturally smooth, like something vast had hollowed the stone with purpose. The architecture was wrong, asymmetrical in ways that teased the brain.
Roger tended to a fire-stone, coaxing it into a steady burn. Aria sharpened her new blade, watching its mist-edge flicker. Kai scribbled rune notes, periodically touching the moss with a stick to test its reactions.
Kai prodded a clump of violet moss. It recoiled sharply, letting out a faint squeal.
"Do you think it feels pain?" he asked quietly.
Aria smirked. "Do you feel pain every time someone annoys you?"
Kai considered. "Sometimes."
Laughter rippled lightly between them, a necessary release.
Then, the air changed.
A rustle echoed from deeper in the cavern. Something brushed against the fungal stalks. Shadows shifted.
From hidden alcoves in the stone walls, dozens of small, hunched figures emerged — goblins. But not the crude creatures from stories. These were sleek, almost feline in posture, with bioluminescent markings across their skin and large, intelligent eyes.
They moved with eerie silence.
Then, without warning, one by one, they knelt — heads bowed to the floor.
"They're… bowing," Kai breathed, frozen.
The Director stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Not to us. To something else. Something deeper."
As if on cue, the ground rumbled.
From the ceiling, a sickening chittering noise echoed — sharp and fast, like bone on metal. The goblins scattered instantly, vanishing into the shadows with practiced terror.
Above, the darkness shifted.
Then it fell.
Slick insectoid creatures — six-limbed and armored in oily black chitin — poured from cracks in the stone, their eyes glowing orange. Their movements were jagged, too fast, and impossibly silent.
"Scatter!" Aria shouted, drawing her blade. She moved like wind, intercepting the first of them mid-air. The blade struck true — and bounced off the shell with a hollow clang.
Roger stumbled back toward the fire. "We need an exit!"
"No time!" Aria called, slicing again. The blade phased to mist mid-swing, passed into the creature's chest — then solidified.
It dropped, spasming once.
Kai stood frozen as one of the creatures hissed and lunged toward him. His body refused to move.
Then, between them, the Director stepped — one hand raised.
He pressed a single palm to the creature's head. For a moment, it resisted — then its entire body twitched, went limp, and fell dead at his feet.
The boy turned to Kai, his voice quiet but cutting.
"Fear is natural," he said. "But inaction is a choice. Remember that."
Kai nodded shakily, breath ragged. "I—yes… okay…"
He repeated it under his breath. "Inaction is a choice… Inaction is a choice…"
His eyes darted to a nearby wall — etched faintly with glowing runes.
"A gate!" he cried. "I think I see a gate! Thirty seconds! Buy me thirty seconds!"
Roger surged toward Aria. "I'll give you a minute."
He activated the orb. It flickered, resisting him — then surged to life. A ripple distorted the air around them. Time dragged — insectoids moving sluggishly, like swimming through tar.
Aria's eyes narrowed. She focused her breath and shifted her blade mid-swing.
The weapon passed through a creature's carapace in mist form — then solidified inside.
It dropped instantly.
"That's the trick," she muttered. "Inside… then cut."
Kai's hands flew across the runes, guided more by instinct than knowledge. The bracer glowed as he pressed it to the stone.
Symbols screamed with heat, then calmed.
The gate opened.
"Now! Through the gate!" Kai shouted.
One by one, they sprinted through — Aria first, then Roger. The Director followed without hesitation.
As Kai stepped through last, the rune flared bright — then cracked.
The glow died. Silence fell.
---
They emerged on the other side, stumbling into soft, dew-laden grass.
Floor Two unfolded before them like a dream: a vast wetland bathed in silver light, where floating stones drifted lazily through the sky and lightning slithered like serpents in slow motion.
Kai collapsed, panting. Aria knelt beside him, checking for wounds.
Roger stood tall, eyes scanning their new surroundings. "Everyone accounted for?"
"Yes," the Director said simply. He sat cross-legged again, robes folding neatly around him. His eyes didn't look back at the gate.
Instead, he stared forward — at a horizon filled with swaying trees, strange stars, and clouds that breathed.
He whispered something, barely audible.
"Floor One is watching."