Deceptions of the Sixth Floor
The sixth floor emanated an ominous mana so potent it could be felt from below. This was different from the mana I'd sensed on the floors above. It rippled with undisguised malice and despair, prickling my skin. An oppressive pressure squeezed my chest, making it hard to breathe. I cautiously sent up one puppet, fully prepared for it to shatter on contact. I'd even positioned more as backups for that very reason.
But nothing happened. The puppet ascended the stairs and scanned its surroundings. The passageway was impeccably clean. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls, proudly illuminating the path in their pristine glory. Contrary to my expectations, everything looked perfectly intact. The puppet proceeded carefully, reaching the central hall and spinning in place to survey all directions. The layout of the sixth floor transmitted directly into my mind.
The central hall was spotless, without a speck of dust—flawless in every way. It even allowed me to infer what the ruined upper floors must have looked like in their prime. Like the levels below, the sixth floor consisted of ten rooms. That seemed to be the tower's standard structure: a central hall branching into twelve paths forming the foundation. So what the hell was this floor for?
One room had its door half-open, so I sent the puppet inside. A bit of clutter lay scattered about, but even that was undamaged and in perfect condition. The puppet exited, retraced its steps naturally, and returned. It fiddled with the wall hangings and sculptures as if nothing were amiss before descending back to the fifth floor. I probed it thoroughly with my mana. No anomalies.
My face hardened. The lack of issues was the real issue. How could it be fine immersed in that sinister mana? I triggered the embedded explosion spell. Red circuits etched across the puppet's body, forming a magic circle that detonated it in an instant. At the same moment, a faint sneer leaked through the mana before vanishing in the blast. I blocked the shock with a barrier spell and retreated.
Something had infiltrated the puppet without my notice. A chill ran down my spine. If I hadn't caught it? I might have died right there. I replayed the scenes the puppet had sent. To it, the sixth floor looked perfectly fine. I'd thought so too at first. But my seedling had trembled excitedly, hinting at something off. The real weirdness hit when it entered that room—the unidentified junk. Wood scraps, stones. Only then, observing through the puppets, did I spot the floor's strangeness.
There was no magic. The floors above had been littered with broken spells reduced to dust. The intact third floor had its magic fully alive. But through the puppet's eyes, the sixth floor had no active magic at all. How could it stay pristine without it? Something had manipulated the puppet's vision. I inspected it meticulously, finding nothing—until the explosion revealed the trace. Grimacing, I backed swiftly away from the stairs to the sixth floor.
The ominous mana surged stronger, as if laughing now that I'd caught on. "But I still have to get through there..." A bitter smile twisted my lips. Cleaning—that word bound me tight. It wasn't just my own resolve. I glanced at my wrist. The contract gripped me fiercely.
It had activated after the entrance ceremony, entwining my tree and compelling my actions. Even now, whenever I wanted to flee downward, the contract vibrated, pressing me. Was this cleaning part of "service"? This was why mages avoided contracts—they had to fulfill every term. So I pressed on, despite whatever freakish thing lurked above that could fool even my puppets.
I steeled myself. I'd have done it contract or no. Whatever was up there couldn't be scarier than the professor. I recalled the soul-wrenching blow she'd dealt me. This fear paled against that terror. Remembering it filled me with confidence. Nothing scared me now. Sending more puppets was pointless—I had to go myself anyway. Time to check with my own body.
I eyed the turtle in my hand. It was all I could trust right now. It met my gaze, mouth working silently. My seedling manipulated it, emanating mana as if to say, trust me. Deep breath. I ascended slowly. The moment I reached the sixth floor, I scanned rapidly. As expected, the puppet's info was all illusion. Dust and debris blanketed everything. But no overt oddities.
I deployed puppets ahead to clear a path. They swept efficiently as I followed, probing the ambient mana. The sinister force filled the entire floor. My heart pounded. Something watched me through it. No—definitely watched.
"I'm here to clean! Professor Irian assigned me!" I shouted for no reason. This was her tower; whatever this was had to be connected. Maybe revealing it would make the thing wary. The mana rippled slightly—it seemed startled. I sighed inwardly in relief. Looked like I'd pass easier now.
Big mistake. Halfway to the central hall, I noticed someone walking ahead. No idea when they'd appeared. They blended seamlessly into my vision. Goosebumps prickled my spine. I was alone here. Puppets shot forward—but veered wildly, missing. Mana and spells fared no better. The figure kept pace at a fixed distance, matching my speed. I couldn't close the gap.
The ominous mana thickened. Reaching the hall, realization dawned. Ah, that's my back. The space shifted violently. Giggles whispered from all sides. Walls quaked, floors melted like wax. I checked my path— the stairs to the fifth were gone, dissolved. The fog-like mana muddled my mind.
"Damn it." I bit my lip until it bled. The sharp pain snapped me alert. Focus. I hurled the turtle down and leaped aboard as it expanded, thudding heavily. The melting floor buckled but held. I dove inside. Good thing I'd prepared for this.
The turtle charged. It wasn't as sturdy as during the exam—materials, not spells, were the issue. Repairs after the test needed cash I didn't have, thanks to not selling puppets post-professor's siege. I'd crammed it with wood and moved on. If I'd known I'd need it so soon, I'd have borrowed to fix it properly! Regret gnawing, I steered it. No telling when that thing might infiltrate.
I'd coated it with my mana, activating barriers. Peering from its mouth, I pushed forward. Stairs ahead—untouched amid the writhing reality. Changes intensified: walls constricted, floor sucked like quicksand. Trailing puppets sank and vanished. The turtle crushed closing walls, stomped sucking floors, bulldozed to my shadow-self.
It stood still, perhaps because I hid unmoving inside. The turtle crushed it. It dispersed like mist. Cackling laughter rang in my ears, dizzying me. I chewed my tongue to stay sharp. Almost there. Stairs loomed. As we neared, the mana thinned—its power waned here. Interference weakened.
Reaching the stairs, I exhaled in relief. I tumbled out, collapsing. That laugh echoed in my head. The turtle shrank back to my hand. I crawled halfway up, gasping, swallowing hard at the view below. The sixth floor was a total wreck, paths blocked. Disappointed at missing me, the mana writhed toward the stairs.
Forget cleaning—it was trashed. Professor would understand. Deep breath, eyeing the spiral above. No choice, no time. All puppets gone. I stepped onto the seventh floor.
Surprisingly intact. Its magic hummed naturally—nothing like the sixth. No mana, no weird vibes. Clutching the turtle, I advanced slowly. The hall was close, path serene and clean. Relief crept in.
Then, in the hall, my mind blanked. What the hell is that? Gazing at the ceiling. A vast cosmos. No—a sphere containing the universe. No—a massive eye. Our gazes locked. My vision shattered.
Something smacked my head. "Ah, my mistake. Didn't expect this to be here with me."
Consciousness snapped, sucked into darkness.