After endless hours in the labyrinth, Qiris and Little Idiot felt a fatigue that went far beyond mere physical exhaustion. Every step was a challenge, every breath an effort. It wasn't an illness affecting them, but rather the accumulated weight of incessant battles and constant stress.
Qiris watched Little Idiot face yet another astral beast, a wolf made of mist and stars. The small frog, despite its obvious fatigue, leaped with fierce determination. Its movements, once quick and precise, were now slower, more laborious.
"Come on, Little Idiot" Qiris whispered, his trembling hands already preparing the healing spell he had learned. "One more effort."
With a final [Propelled Headbutt], Little Idiot defeated the astral beast, before collapsing to the ground, panting. Qiris rushed over, applying the healing spell with a grimace of concentration. The soothing glow enveloped the small frog, easing its wounds but doing nothing against the accumulated fatigue.
"If only I could fight" Qiris grumbled, frustration evident in his voice. His thoughts turned to the cultivation art he had discovered. "I need to find a way to complete it. I can't let this suicidal frog bear all the burden."
The days that followed were a whirlwind of incessant battles. Their rations were dangerously dwindling, and each meal became a strategic calculation. Qiris carefully rationed their food, always giving the largest portion to Little Idiot.
"You need strength to fight" he explained to the frog who looked at him with concern. "Don't worry about me, I'll hold up."
But the truth was that Qiris felt his strength diminishing day by day. His mind, once sharp and alert, was becoming increasingly foggy. He struggled to stay focused and to keep moving forward despite the adversity.
Meanwhile, at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, the atmosphere was quite different. The first climbers were arriving, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement.
"Did you see that?" exclaimed a young man with red hair. "After the first day, the astral beasts became rarer and rarer!"
Bolin, who had just arrived with Pon, frowned. "Really? We noticed that too. It's as if the tower was becoming... merciful?"
Aurora, who was listening to the conversation, intervened "Whatever it is, we should remain vigilant. This tower is full of surprises."
The stairs rising before them were a breathtaking sight. Carved from translucent blue crystal, they seemed to float in the air, spiraling up towards a ceiling so high it was lost in darkness. Each step gently sparkled, as if it contained its light.
"It's beautiful" Bolin breathed, eyes wide.
Zephyr, who was listening to the conversation, cast a furtive glance at Aurora. His eyes narrowed slightly, a gleam of calculation shining in his steel-gray gaze. He clenched his fists, his nails almost digging into his palms.
"I can't afford to arrive after the Lark heiress" he thought, jaw clenched. "Better to leave now, even if it means sacrificing rest. No way I'm letting that vixen take the advantage."
He stepped towards the first steps, forcing a smug smile on his face despite the fatigue weighing on his muscles. "Admire if you want" he called over his shoulder, his voice tinged with calculated arrogance. "I'm going to get a head start. The first inter-floor town isn't waiting."
As he began his ascent, Zephyr felt Aurora's gaze on his back. He resisted the urge to turn around, focusing all his energy on each step. "I must be first" he repeated like a mantra. "For the Eole family. For me. To prove to everyone, especially father, that I'm the best."
Aurora hesitated. "Perhaps we should rest a bit before continuing?" she suggested, noting the fatigue on some participants' faces.
Bolin nodded. "I agree. A little rest won't hurt us. And who knows what awaits us up there?"
Days passed, and gradually, the climbers began their ascent to the second floor. Some, like Zephyr, were already far ahead, while others took their time, regaining their strength before facing the next challenge.
Long after the last group had left the foot of the stairs, when all other participants were already on the second floor or climbing, a solitary figure finally emerged from the labyrinth.
Qiris, his face pale and hollowed by fatigue, clothes in tatters, staggered towards the stairs. Little Idiot, exhausted, slept on his shoulder, oblivious to the spectacular view before them.
"The stairs" Qiris breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "We made it!"
But his relief was short-lived. The accumulated fatigue of the past few days suddenly hit him in full force. His legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed on the smooth floor at the foot of the stairs, letting out a sigh of relief mixed with a sense of despair.
Qiris struggled to keep his eyes open, staring at the stairs rising before him. He wanted to climb, to continue, but his body refused to obey. Fatigue was overwhelming him, numbing his limbs and clouding his mind.
Without realizing it, he was now alone, the last to arrive, while everyone else had already begun their ascent to the second floor. This heavy solitude seeped into him, adding to his exhaustion.
Finally, Qiris's eyes closed despite himself. His last moment of consciousness was filled with a mixture of relief at having reached the stairs and worry for what awaited them.
Thus, Qiris fell asleep at the foot of the majestic staircase, Little Idiot nestled against him, both unaware that they were the last to arrive, alone in this vast hall that marked the end of the first floor of the Astral Tower.
The red eyes nearby watched this spectacle without emotion and finally looked at the stairs with narrowed eyes, a dangerous glint deep in their red eyes full of madness. He looked one last time at the young half-elf and the upside-down frog. Before disappearing again.
A blood-red mark on the back of Qiris' neck disappeared at the same time and a silence interrupted from time to time by snoring remaining in this room.