The sky had always been wrong here.
Soren understood that from the moment they first stepped onto the seventh floor, three weeks ago. No sun, no moon, just an endless canvas of swirling gray that seemed to breathe, expand, contract, like the ribcage of something massive and sleeping. The air tasted different too, thick with something ancient, something that settled at the back of his throat and refused to leave. The other floors had their quirks, their dangers, their ecosystems that evolved in isolation for centuries, but this place felt designed. Purposeful. Every stone, every shadow, every whisper of wind through the crystalline formations that jutted from the ground like broken teeth felt placed with intention.
And somewhere in the center of it all, a dungeon that nobody had ever returned from.
Two days. Aldric had been inside for two days now.
Soren sat on a fallen pillar, his fingers tracing patterns in the dust that coated everything in this godforsaken place. His tactical map lay open on his lap, though he had memorized every route, every chokepoint, every fallback position days ago. Habit kept him looking at it. The silence in the camp was oppressive. Thirty members of his own squad had set up perimeter defenses around the dungeon entrance, their movements efficient and quiet, but even they had stopped pretending to busy themselves with preparations. Everyone was waiting. Everyone was watching that dark opening in the earth, half-expecting Aldric to come walking out with that infuriating grin of his.
He should have been back by now. The other dungeons on the lower floors, even the ones that had claimed hundreds of lives before their party arrived, none of them took more than a day to clear. Aldric was the strongest human alive. That was not arrogance or exaggeration, simply fact. When he swung his blade, reality itself seemed to bend around the edge. When he spoke, people listened not because they had to, but because something in his voice made them want to follow him into hell itself.
Soren had followed him into hell hundreds of times now.
"Your food is getting cold."
He did not look up. Alicia's footsteps were unmistakable anyway, the soft crunch of enchanted boots against crystalline ground, the faint hum of mana that always surrounded her like a second skin. She settled beside him on the pillar, her legs dangling over the edge, and pushed a bowl of something that might have been stew toward his chest.
"You need to eat," she said. "When he comes back, he will need you sharp."
"When."
"Yes. When."
Her voice cracked on the word. Barely. Most people would not have caught it, but Soren had spent years reading the subtle shifts in his companions, the small tells that betrayed what lay beneath the surface. Alicia's hands were clasped too tightly in her lap. Her breathing was too measured, too controlled. The fluctuations in her mana signature were erratic, a storm barely contained within a vessel that was slowly cracking under pressure.
"You love him," Soren said. Not a question.
Alicia's laugh was hollow. "Does it matter?"
"It might."
"It does not." She pulled her knees closer to her chest, making herself smaller, which was absurd because Alicia was anything but small. The most powerful mage of their generation, capable of reducing armies to ash with just a whisper, curled up like a child afraid of the dark. "He does not see me that way. He sees everyone the same. Comrades. Responsibilities. People to protect." Her eyes found the dungeon entrance, dark and unmoving. "I am just another person he has to save."
"That is not true and you know it."
"Do I?"
Soren finally looked at her. directly in the face. The dark circles under her eyes had grown worse over the past two days, the result of sleepless nights spent maintaining a detection barrier around the camp. Her auburn hair, usually tied back in a practical bun, hung loose and tangled around her shoulders. She had stopped eating properly sometime yesterday, picking at her food before pushing it away untouched. The great Alicia Ravencroft, the Sorceress Supreme, the woman whose name struck fear into the hearts of dungeon bosses across all seven floors, was falling apart.
"He talks about you," Soren said quietly. "When we are alone, between battles, during the quiet moments. He asks if you are resting enough. If the strain of your magic is becoming too much. If there is anything he can do to make this journey easier for you."
Alicia's breath caught.
"He cares," Soren continued. "In his own way, with his own limitations. Aldric carries the weight of every single person in this party, every soldier under our command, every civilian back on Verdantis who is counting on us to succeed. He does not have the luxury of allowing himself to want things for himself. But if you think you are just another face in the crowd to him, you are wrong."
"Then why," Alicia whispered, "has he never said anything? In three years of fighting side by side, of bleeding together, of nearly dying together more times than I can count, why has he never once looked at me the way I look at him?"
"Because he is a fool." Soren allowed himself a small, bitter smile. "A brave, selfless, insufferably noble fool who thinks that acknowledging his feelings would make him vulnerable, and making himself vulnerable would compromise his ability to lead. He has convinced himself that his purpose is singular. End the countdown. Save humanity. Everything else, including his own happiness, is secondary."
Alicia was quiet for a long moment. Then, softer than before, "He is taking too long, Soren."
"I know."
"It has been two days. The other dungeons took hours. Even the labyrinth on the fifth floor, the one that drove three parties before us to madness, only took him half a day. What could be in there that requires this much time?"
"I do not know."
"That scares me." Her voice was barely audible now. "I have never been scared before. Not of monsters, not of dungeons, not of dying. But this waiting, this not knowing, it is eating me alive. And every hour that passes without him emerging from that hole, I feel like something inside me is breaking."
Soren set his tactical map aside. He understood that feeling. The helplessness. The gnawing certainty that something had gone terribly wrong, combined with the desperate hope that he was mistaken. Aldric was strong. Aldric was the strongest. If anyone could conquer the unknown, it was him.
But the unknown was called that for a reason.
"Hey," a gruff voice interrupted. Marcus approached with his usual heavy-footed gait, his massive frame blocking what little light filtered through the gray sky. The party's vanguard, a man who had taken hits that would shatter castle walls and kept standing through sheer stubbornness. He carried his tower shield on his back like it weighed nothing, though Soren knew it was forged from materials dense enough to sink in the densest of liquids. "Any change?"
"No," Soren said.
Marcus grunted. His scarred face, a roadmap of every battle he had survived, was drawn tight with worry. Behind him, two more figures emerged from the scattered camp. Lyra moved like smoke, her steps making no sound against the crystalline ground, her cloak shifting colors to match her surroundings even when she was not trying to hide. The party's assassin, their scout, their reconnaissance expert who could infiltrate fortresses and emerge with secrets that decided battles before they began. And beside her, Elias, whose gentle demeanor masked the power of a healer who had pulled people back from death's door more times than any of them cared to count.
The six core members of the Hero's Party. The strongest team humanity had ever assembled.
Soren was the weakest among them. He knew this. They knew this. His combat abilities were mediocre at best, his physical strength unremarkable, his magical aptitude barely above that of an average civilian. In a straight fight, any of the soldiers under their command could probably defeat him. But he was here, standing alongside legends, because wars were not won by strength alone.
His strategies had reduced casualties by seventy percent compared to previous expeditions. His planning had identified weaknesses in dungeons that had claimed thousands of lives. His understanding of enemy patterns, resource allocation, and tactical positioning had transformed the Hero's Party from a group of powerful individuals into a coordinated force that moved like a single organism.
Aldric trusted him with their lives. All of them. Every soldier, every support staff member, every soul that had followed them into this desperate climb toward the top of the tower. When Aldric made decisions, he consulted Soren first. When plans needed to be made, he deferred to Soren's judgment. The other core members followed his lead without question because they had seen the results. They had seen their friends come home alive because Soren had accounted for variables that no one else considered.
And yet, sitting here now, staring at a dungeon entrance that refused to yield its secrets, he felt utterly useless.
"You should rest," Elias said, his voice carrying that soothing quality that made wounds hurt less and fears seem smaller. "All of you. I can keep watch, maintain the detection barrier, handle any threats that approach. You have not slept properly in days."
"Neither have you," Lyra pointed out. Her pale eyes, pupils vertical like a cat's, scanned the horizon. "But Elias is right. If something happens, if Aldric emerges and needs immediate support, we will be in no condition to provide it if we are all half-dead from exhaustion."
"We are not leaving," Alicia said flatly.
"I did not suggest leaving. I suggested resting. There is a difference."
"What if he comes out while we are sleeping? What if he is hurt, dying, and we are not there?"
"Then I will wake you," Elias promised. "Immediately. The moment I sense any change in the dungeon's mana signature, I will alert everyone. You have my word."
Alicia's jaw tightened. Soren could see the war playing out across her face, the desperate need to stay and watch warring with the knowledge that she was running on fumes. She had pushed herself harder than anyone, maintaining magical barriers around the clock, refusing to delegate the task even when her reserves were clearly depleted.
"Two hours," Soren said. "Rest for two hours. I will stay awake, keep monitoring the entrance, watch for any changes. If anything happens, I will wake you myself."
"You need rest too," Marcus said.
"I will rest when Aldric returns."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. When, not if. Soren clung to that distinction, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. Two days was too long. Everything they knew about dungeons suggested that extended time inside meant something had gone wrong. But Aldric was different. Aldric was the exception to every rule.
Was he not?
"Fine," Alicia finally conceded. "Two hours. But if anything changes, anything at all..."
"I will wake you," Soren repeated.
The others dispersed slowly, retreating to the shelters they had constructed from crystalline debris and enchanted cloth. Marcus paused at the edge of the camp, looking back once, his expression unreadable before he disappeared into his tent. Lyra moved to a higher vantage point, settling into a position that gave her a view of the entire surrounding area. Elias began his rounds, checking on the soldiers manning the perimeter, ensuring that the detection barrier remained stable.
Soren was alone again.
He returned his attention to the map, though he already knew every detail by heart. The dungeon entrance, the positions of their forces, the terrain features that could provide cover or become obstacles in an emergency. His mind worked through scenarios automatically, preparing responses to threats that might never materialize.
The countdown timer in the sky pulsed gently. Two days and three hours remaining. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember, a constant reminder of the stakes, the reason they climbed, the fate that awaited everyone on Verdantis if they failed. Every floor had one, synchronized across all seven worlds, counting down to an end that few dared to contemplate.
Humanity had been given a deadline. A final chance to prove themselves worthy of continued existence. The countdown had appeared one thousand years ago, transforming their world forever, and with it came monsters, dungeons, and the awakening of powers that allowed ordinary people to become something more. Players, they were called. Those who could grow, evolve, challenge the impossible.
For a millennium, humanity had struggled, fought, died, and slowly climbed. Floor by floor. Generation after generation. And now, finally, a party had reached the top. The seventh floor. The final dungeon. One chance to end the countdown and secure a future for everyone they had left behind.
Aldric had gone in alone. The dungeon had demanded it, a restriction unlike any they had encountered before. Only one challenger. One chance. The burden of all humanity's hopes placed on a single pair of shoulders.
Soren had argued against it. They all had. Surely there was another way, a loophole they had missed, a strategy that would allow them to support their leader in the final battle. But the dungeon's gates had remained sealed until Aldric stepped forward alone, and opened only for him.
Two days.
Soren's eyes burned from lack of sleep. His body ached from weeks of travel, fighting, and the constant low-level stress of knowing that failure was not an option. He wanted to believe that Aldric would emerge victorious, that the countdown would stop, that they would return to Verdantis as heroes and rebuild a world that had been living in shadow for too long.
But something was wrong.
He felt it in his bones, in the instincts that had kept him alive through countless battles. The air had changed sometime in the past hour, growing heavier, charged with an energy that made his skin prickle. The crystalline formations around them had begun to vibrate subtly, a frequency just below hearing, felt rather than perceived.
Soren stood.
The map fell from his lap, forgotten. He turned his gaze upward, toward the gray sky that had been their constant companion since arriving on this floor. The swirling patterns had stopped. The canvas that had breathed like something alive now hung motionless, frozen, as if time itself had paused to witness what came next.
A sound tore through the silence. Not a bang, not an explosion, but a crack, sharp and piercing, like glass shattering in an empty room. Soren's breath caught. Above them, directly overhead, a fracture appeared in the sky. Thin at first, barely visible, but spreading rapidly, branching outward like lightning frozen mid-strike.
"EVERYONE UP! NOW!"
His own voice sounded distant, muffled by the roaring in his ears. Around him, the camp erupted into chaos. Soldiers stumbled from their shelters, weapons drawn, confusion painted across their faces. Marcus emerged with his shield raised, automatically moving to the rear of everyone to protect the squad members. Lyra materialized besides Soren from the shadows, her blades already in hand. Elias sprinted toward the center of camp, his healing aura flaring to life.
Alicia reached Soren first.
"What is happening?" Her eyes were wild, still heavy with the remnants of exhausted sleep. "The barrier, I did not sense anything approaching, there was no warning, how did..."
She stopped. Her gaze followed Soren's upward, and the words died in her throat.
The sky was falling apart.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Literally, actually, impossibly falling apart. Great chunks of the gray canvas cracked and tumbled downward, revealing behind them not stars or void or anything comprehensible, but a seething mass of something dark and wrong, something that hurt to look at directly. And from that darkness, streaks of fire began to descend.
Meteorites.
Hundreds of them. Thousands. A rain of destruction that stretched across the entire visible horizon, descending slowly at first, then accelerating, trailing flames that painted the crystalline landscape in shades of orange and red.
"No," Alicia whispered. "No, no, no, this cannot be..."
Soren did not need to ask what she meant. He knew. They all knew. The timer. The countdown. The final hours that had been stripped away in an instant.
Zero. The countdown had reached zero.
Aldric had failed.
The realization hit Soren like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs and leaving him gasping. They had lost. After everything, the sacrifices, the years of climbing, the friends buried on floors they would never visit again, it had all been for nothing. The end had come, and they were standing in the open, exposed, helpless.
"Commander!" Marcus's voice cut through the chaos. "We need to evacuate, find shelter, anything!"
Soren turned to look at him. His mouth opened, but no words came. What orders could he give? What strategy could possibly account for the sky itself falling? His tactical mind, usually so sharp, so quick to find solutions, ground to a halt. There was no escape from this. No clever positioning that would save them. No hidden route that would lead to safety.
Everything was over.
"Soren!" Alicia grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to bruise. "Say something! Tell us what to do!"
He looked at her. Really looked. The woman who had loved a man she could never have, who had fought beside him through hell itself, who was now watching the world end while the object of her affection lay somewhere beneath the earth, dead or dying. Tears streamed down her face, cutting tracks through the grime of days without proper rest. Her mana was flaring wildly, surges of power crackling around her hands as instinct warred with hopelessness.
"Alicia," he said quietly. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, calm and distant, as if someone else were speaking through his mouth. "You were the best of us. The strongest. The one he relied on most. You should know that whatever he felt for you, it was real. Even if he never said it. Even if he was too much of a fool to show it properly. It was real."
Her eyes widened. "Soren, what are you..."
"Marcus." Soren turned to the vanguard, who was still waiting, still trusting, still believing that his commander would find a way. "You were the shield that kept us alive. Every blow you took, every wall you held, it mattered. You saved hundreds of lives. Probably thousands. Never forget that."
"Commander..."
"Lyra." The assassin had frozen mid-step, her pale eyes fixed on his face. "You saw everything before anyone else. You warned us of dangers we never would have survived without your eyes. You were the reason we made it this far."
"Soren, stop, please..."
"Elias." The healer had tears running down his face now, his healing aura flickering and unstable. "You pulled people back from death so many times we stopped counting. The families that have their loved ones because of you, the soldiers who came home when they should have died, that is your legacy. That is what you leave behind."
"What are you doing?" Alicia's voice cracked. "Why are you talking like this? We can still fight, we can still..."
The first meteorite struck.
It hit the ground perhaps a mile away, close enough that the shockwave knocked everyone off their feet. The sound came a moment later, a thunderous boom that rattled teeth and bones alike. A plume of fire and debris shot upward, visible even against the growing inferno of the sky.
Soren did not get up.
He stayed where he had fallen, his back against the crystalline ground, his eyes fixed on the descending apocalypse. More meteorites were striking now, closer and closer, each impact sending tremors through the earth. Someone was screaming. Maybe multiple someones. The sound blended together into a single, formless wail of terror and despair.
He had failed.
The thought circled through his mind, relentless and unforgiving. He should have been stronger. He should have found another way. He should have pushed Aldric harder, questioned the dungeon's rules more thoroughly, anticipated that something like this could happen. His intellect was supposed to be his gift, his contribution, the reason he stood alongside warriors who could move mountains and mages who could call down storms. But when it mattered most, when everything was on the line, his mind had been just as helpless as his mediocre combat abilities.
If he had been stronger, they might have arrived sooner. Weeks earlier. Months. Enough time for Aldric to prepare differently, to approach the final dungeon with more information, more resources. Enough time to find a way around the single challenger restriction, or to discover what waited inside and plan accordingly.
Instead, they had arrived with only days to spare, racing against a countdown that they all knew was immutable. And now that countdown had reached zero, and the sky was falling, and everyone he cared about was going to die.
"Soren!" Alicia was beside him again, pulling at his arm, trying to drag him to his feet. "Get up! We need to move, find cover, something, anything!"
"Why?"
The word came out flat. Empty. He looked up at her, at the tears and the terror and the desperate hope that refused to die even in the face of absolute destruction.
"Where would we go, Alicia? What shelter could possibly protect us from this? The sky is falling. The world is ending. Everything we fought for, everyone we tried to save, it is all gone. Running will not change that. Hiding will not change that. Nothing will change that."
Her grip tightened. "So we just give up? We just lay down and die? After everything?"
"Yes."
The word hung between them. Alicia stared at him, and for a moment, he saw something break in her eyes. The last flicker of hope, extinguished by the weight of his surrender. She released his arm and stepped back, her hands falling to her sides, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
Another meteorite struck. Closer this time. The shockwave was stronger, hurling debris through the air, scattering the remains of the camp like toys in a hurricane. Soren heard screams, cut short. He did not look to see who had fallen.
"ALDRIC!" Alicia's voice tore through the chaos, raw and anguished. She was not looking at the meteorites, not looking at Soren, but at the dungeon entrance, the dark hole in the earth that had swallowed the man she loved. "ALDRIC, PLEASE! COME BACK TO ME! I NEED YOU! WE ALL NEED YOU!"
The dungeon remained silent.
The sky continued to fall.
Soren closed his eyes. He thought of Verdantis, of the world they had left behind, of the families and friends who were watching the same sky shatter, the same meteorites descend. He thought of the tower itself, this impossible structure that had defined human existence for a thousand years, and wondered if anyone would ever reach the top now. He thought of his parents, who had died believing their son would help save the world. He thought of the soldiers under his command, who had trusted him with their lives, who were even now dying because he had no strategy left to give.
He thought of Aldric, somewhere beneath the earth, and wondered if his friend had known. In those final moments, facing whatever horror awaited in the last dungeon, had Aldric understood that he would fail? Had he felt the same helpless certainty that Soren felt now? Or had he died believing that victory was still possible, that humanity still had a chance?
The ground beneath him trembled. A shadow fell across his face, blocking out the inferno above. He opened his eyes to see a meteorite descending directly toward them, massive and undeniable, trailing fire like the wrath of an angry god.
Alicia stood nearby, her head bowed, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer. Marcus had not moved from his position, his shield raised in a final, futile gesture of protecting those few members of his squad laid behind him. Lyra had vanished, seeking shadows that could not save her. Elias was on his knees, his healing aura flickering around the few soldiers close enough to reach.
The meteorite struck.
Soren did not feel pain. There was a moment of overwhelming pressure, a sensation of being unmade at the most fundamental level, and then nothing. The shockwave pulverized everything in its vicinity, reducing flesh and bone and crystal to dust in an instant. The Hero's Party, humanity's last hope, was erased from existence in a single moment of apocalyptic fury.
And far above, the countdown timer reached zero, and the tower began its final collapse.