[Your question is being analyzed.]
[Your question has been deemed satisfactory.]
[Generating answer.]
As these notifications appeared, a wave of relief washed over me, easing the tension that had gripped me since entering this eerie place. My shoulders relaxed slightly, and I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The confirmation of my question's validity was reassuring, a sign that my seemingly simple approach had been the right choice. For now, I had played my part wisely, but the true test still lay ahead.
I stared at the glowing screen, anticipation and apprehension building within me. The next notification would determine everything. What would the answer reveal? Would it be clear or cryptic, empowering or overwhelming?
The room felt unnervingly silent as I waited, each passing second stretching into what felt like an eternity. My heart raced as I braced myself for the final revelation—the key to perfectly passing this trial. Whatever awaited, I was ready.
After a couple of seconds, it finally appeared.
[You have already passed the trail with your question, but if you want to perfectly clear this floor, go to the right-most corner of the basement and open the box contained there, within that box is the hidden bonus of this floor.]
[Congratulations on passing the test]
[Please proceed to the next floor within the next hour by saying proceed]
Seeing these notifications, I couldn't contain my joy. A wide grin spread across my face as I realized my guess had been correct. Earlier, as I deliberated on what question to ask, one thought kept returning to me, persistent and unshakable: What if there's more to this floor?
The idea intrigued me, almost as if it were a whispered hint. I reasoned that if the trial was designed to test wisdom and insight, then it was possible—perhaps even likely—that a hidden reward lay somewhere beyond the obvious challenge. Now, with these notifications confirming my suspicion, it seemed clear that my intuition had been right.
Moreover, this revelation hinted at a broader truth. If this floor held a hidden bonus, then perhaps such secrets were scattered throughout the tower, waiting to be uncovered by those perceptive enough to search for them. My excitement grew as I prepared to claim the reward.
I quickly rushed toward the rightmost corner of the room, my heart pounding with anticipation. There, nestled in the shadows, was an unassuming box, its surface thick with a layer of dust. My fingers trembled slightly as I gripped the lid and pulled it off. What I found inside left me momentarily speechless: a black book, its cover adorned with what appeared to be a crudely drawn city, its lines shaky and uneven.
As I picked up the book, a name came unbidden to my mind, as if the object itself were whispering its identity to me: "The Last Survivor's Diary." The name sent a shiver down my spine, its significance both mysterious and foreboding.
Compelled by curiosity, I opened the book, flipping to the first page, eager to uncover the secrets it contained. To my surprise, the page was completely blank. Puzzled, I reached out my hand to touch the old-looking paper.
As soon as the tip of my finger touched the page, an overwhelming sensation swept over me, and my consciousness was abruptly pulled away. In an instant, I found myself inhabiting the body of a boy who couldn't have been older than fifteen. It was a strange and disorienting experience, as though I were merely a spectator, watching the events of someone else's life unfold through their eyes.
At first, I struggled to grasp what was happening. I could see, feel, and move within this new body, yet I had no control over its actions. It was as though I were trapped in the passenger seat, observing helplessly as the boy went about his life.
As minutes turned into what felt like hours, I began to notice peculiar details. I couldn't hear the voices of the people around me; their words were muffled, like whispers carried away by the wind. Stranger still, time seemed to accelerate unnaturally. The boy, whom I was tethered to, aged before my eyes. His youthful face gradually transformed, his cheeks becoming rough as the first signs of a beard began to appear.
The rapid passage of time and the surreal silence left me bewildered. What was this place, and why was I experiencing it through this boy's life? Was this the hidden secret of The Last Survivor's Diary? These questions swirled in my mind as the strange vision continued to unfold.
Hours had passed, though it felt like mere moments in this accelerated world. The boy I had been observing had grown into a man, his youthful energy replaced by the steadiness of adulthood. He had married, and together with his wife, they had two children—a lively boy and a curious little girl.
Life had settled into a predictable routine. Every day, the man would leave his modest home to work in the city, a city I had long since recognized as the lost one from before. Its once-familiar streets and buildings, though now bustling with life, carried a haunting familiarity that made me uneasy.
Each evening, the man would return home to the sight of his two children playing outside the small house. It was a peaceful, heartwarming ritual, one that had become as predictable as the rising sun. But today was different.
As the man approached his house, I noticed something strange—an unsettling stillness in the air. My long-held sense of detachment gave way to alarm as his usual routine was shattered. Lying outside his home was a scene so horrifying it made my bored expression melt into one of pure shock.
The children were no longer playing. The front yard was stained with blood, and their lifeless bodies lay crumpled on the ground. The man's face contorted with grief and horror as he dropped to his knees, screaming silently in the world's muted soundscape. A sense of dread surged within me—what had caused this tragedy?