The staircase to the fourth floor levelled out into a small platform, its edges fading into the void surrounding the Tower of Trials. The oppressive energy of the third trial still clung to them, an invisible weight pressing down on their shoulders.
Dominic glanced at Sincerity, her face illuminated by the faint glow of the runes on the walls. She looked tired, though she tried to hide it behind her usual sharp demeanour.
"We should rest," he said, his voice soft. "We don't know how long the next trial will take, and we'll need to be ready."
Sincerity hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But just for a bit. The system's already shown it can get in our heads. I don't want to give it more chances."
They set up a makeshift camp on the platform, using supplies Dominic had packed before their ascent. The platform itself seemed to accommodate their needs, its surface smoothing and widening as if responding to their intent.
Sincerity lit a small portable lantern, its soft light pushing back the shadows. She leaned against her pack, her daggers resting at her side, while Dominic sat cross-legged nearby, staring into the faint glow of his interface.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable, the aftermath of the third trial lingering between them like an unspoken truth.
"You were right," Dominic said finally, his voice low.
Sincerity glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "About what?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "About me. About the doubt. The system didn't create that reflection—it just showed me what I was already afraid of. That I'm... I'm no better than the system itself. That I'm just as much a monster as the hunters I've killed."
Sincerity sat up straighter, her expression sharp. "That's bullshit, Dominic."
He blinked, surprised by her sudden intensity.
"You're not a monster," she continued, her voice firm. "You've done terrible things, sure. We both have. But you're not doing this for power or control. You're doing this to end the system, to save people. That's what matters."
Dominic frowned. "And the lives I've taken? The souls I've stolen? Does it matter less just because I have good intentions?"
Sincerity's gaze softened. "It matters. But what matters more is what you do with that burden. You carry it so no one else has to. That's what makes you different."
Dominic looked at her, his expression searching. "And you? What about what your reflection said?"
Sincerity stiffened, her eyes dropping to the floor. "It wasn't wrong," she admitted quietly.
Dominic leaned closer. "Hey. Look at me."
Reluctantly, she met his gaze.
"You're not broken," he said, his voice steady. "You're not a failure. You've been through more than anyone should have to endure, and you're still here. Still fighting. That's what matters."
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "You're relentless, you know that?"
Dominic chuckled softly. "Takes one to know one."
She hesitated, then reached out, her fingers brushing against his. "I'm scared, Dominic," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not of the trials. Not even of the system. I'm scared of losing you."
Dominic's chest tightened at her words. He took her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "You won't lose me," he said. "I promise."
Sincerity looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You can't promise that."
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I'll fight like hell to keep it."
They sat there for a while, their hands joined in the quiet glow of the lantern. The weight of their vulnerabilities felt lighter now, shared and acknowledged.
"We've got this," Dominic said finally, his voice filled with quiet determination.
Sincerity smirked faintly, her sharpness returning. "Damn right we do."
As they prepared to rest, the oppressive weight of the Tower seemed to ease, if only for a moment. Whatever the fourth trial held, they would face it together, their bond stronger than ever.
The small camp was silent, save for the faint hum of the Tower's ambient energy. Dominic and Sincerity rested close to each other, their earlier conversation lingering between them like an unspoken bond. But as Dominic closed his eyes, the darkness that greeted him was not the comforting veil of sleep.
Instead, it was a memory.
He was a child again, no older than six. The small, dark cupboard he was locked in smelled of mildew and decay. His wrists were raw from the rope biting into his skin, tied so tightly he couldn't move without pain. He whimpered, hunger gnawing at his belly.
The door creaked open, revealing a looming figure silhouetted by the faint light of a single bulb. The man tossed something onto the floor—a sandwich, its bread stale and riddled with worms.
"You want to eat? Then eat," the man growled, his voice sharp and mocking.
Dominic recoiled, tears streaming down his face. But hunger eventually won. He reached for the sandwich with trembling hands, forcing himself to take a bite as the man laughed and shut the door, plunging him back into darkness.
Dominic jolted awake, his breathing ragged. The faint glow of the lantern brought him back to the present, but the weight of the memory lingered. He glanced at Sincerity, who was watching him intently, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
"What was it?" she asked softly.
Dominic hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He had never spoken of his childhood to anyone—not even the knights of the Order. But something about Sincerity's gaze made him feel safe, like she could shoulder the burden with him.
"It was... when I was a kid," he began haltingly.
Sincerity shifted closer, her hand brushing against his. "Go on," she urged gently.
Dominic took a shaky breath. "After you were taken from me, everything fell apart. My parents—they weren't kind to begin with, but losing you made them worse. My father blamed me for everything, said I was cursed. He started locking me in cupboards, tying me up so I couldn't run. When he remembered to feed me, it was..." He swallowed hard. "Worm sandwiches. Or worse."
Sincerity's eyes widened, horror flashing across her face. "Dominic... I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," he said quickly, though his voice trembled. "I survived. Somehow. But those years..." He shook his head, unable to finish.
Sincerity was silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor. Then she spoke, her voice quiet and laced with pain.
"When I fell," she began, "when they cast me into purgatory, I didn't think I'd survive either. The first few years were the worst. My wings—what was left of them—were still raw, and I couldn't even move without pain. I had to hide from humans; they'd attack me on sight, thinking I was some kind of monster."
Dominic frowned, his heart aching at the thought. "What did you do?"
"I stayed in the shadows," she said. "I scavenged whatever I could find. Sometimes I ate bugs just to keep going. I didn't have a choice."
She turned to him, her sharp eyes softening. "I know what it's like to be hungry, to feel like the world is against you. I know what it's like to survive, even when you're not sure why you're still trying."
Dominic reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. "You didn't deserve that."
"Neither did you," she replied.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions settling between them. The pain of their pasts was undeniable, but so was the strength it had forged in both of them.
"You know," Sincerity said finally, her voice lighter, "we've been through hell—literally, in my case. But we're still here."
Dominic smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "Still fighting."
"And still winning," she added with a smirk.
Dominic chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in his chest. "Thanks for listening. For understanding."
Sincerity's gaze softened. "Always. You're not in this alone, Dominic. Not anymore."
As they prepared to rest, Dominic felt a newfound sense of connection with Sincerity. Their shared vulnerabilities had deepened their bond, and he knew that whatever the Tower threw at them next, they would face it together.
The trials ahead were daunting, but for the first time, Dominic felt like he wasn't carrying the weight alone.
Dominic and Sincerity approached the door to the fourth trial, their resolve strengthened by the shared confessions of their pasts. The lantern's glow cast faint shadows across the smooth surface of the door, its intricate runes rippling faintly as if alive.
Dominic placed a hand on the door, his expression hardening. "Whatever's waiting for us, we'll face it together."
Sincerity smirked, her daggers already in her hands. "Always."
The door slid open with a low hum, revealing a pitch-black chamber beyond. As they stepped inside, the door vanished behind them, and the air grew heavy with an unnatural stillness.
The disembodied voice of the system echoed, its tone colder and more menacing than before.
"Floor 4: The Trial of Betrayal. Trust is a weakness. Unity is a lie. Only one can ascend."
The darkness around them shimmered, and suddenly the room was filled with shadowy figures. Each one looked like Dominic or Sincerity, their forms flickering like dying flames.
Dominic turned, his sword igniting as he scanned the shifting figures. "What is this?"
"It's trying to divide us," Sincerity said, her voice tense. "Don't listen to anything it says."
The voice of the system returned, laced with mockery.
"Dominic Ashen-Soul, your survival depends on strength. Sincerity holds you back, her presence a drain on your potential. You could ascend faster without her."
Dominic stiffened, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. But before he could respond, the voice turned its attention to Sincerity.
"Sincerity, Dominic's path is paved with blood and lies. He is destined to destroy, not to save. Do you truly believe he will spare you when the time comes? Or will you be just another sacrifice for his crown?"
Sincerity's jaw tightened, her grip on her daggers firm. "Shut up," she hissed. "You don't know anything about us."
The shadowy figures began to circle them, their forms twisting and warping into grotesque parodies of their reflections.
One of the shadows stepped forward, its form solidifying into a warped version of Sincerity. Her wings were intact but bloodied, and her face was twisted with anger.
"You don't need me," the shadow-Sincerity spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You never did. I'm just a crutch, a pretty distraction to keep you from realising how much stronger you'd be alone."
Dominic recoiled, his heart pounding. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" the shadow pressed, stepping closer. "You've seen it yourself. The system rewards you for sacrifice. For strength. What's one more soul if it gets you closer to the throne?"
Dominic's grip on his sword faltered as doubt clawed at his mind.
Another shadow approached Sincerity, its form shifting into a monstrous version of Dominic. His eyes glowed red, his hands stained with blood.
"I'll kill them all," the shadow-Dominic said, his voice cold and lifeless. "The Order, the knights, you. Anyone who gets in my way."
Sincerity's breath caught, her daggers trembling in her hands. "That's not him," she whispered, more to herself than to the shadow.
"He's already taken hundreds of souls," the shadow continued, its grin widening. "What makes you think yours won't be next?"
The shadows pressed closer, their words a relentless barrage of doubt and fear. Dominic clenched his fists, his breathing ragged as he struggled to focus.
"Sincerity," he called, his voice strained.
"I'm here," she replied, though her own voice was unsteady.
"They're trying to turn us against each other," Dominic said. "Don't listen to them."
"I know," she said, forcing herself to look away from the shadow-Dominic. "But it's hard."
Dominic took a deep breath, his hand tightening around his sword. "Then we focus on the truth. Not what they say. What we know."
Sincerity nodded, her resolve returning. "The truth."
Dominic stepped forward, his blade igniting with searing light. He slashed through the nearest shadow, its form dissolving into smoke. "You're not me," he said, his voice firm.
Sincerity followed suit, her daggers striking true as she dispelled the shadow-Dominic. "And you're not him."
As the shadows dissolved, the room shook violently, the oppressive energy fading with each strike. The system's voice returned, but this time, it sounded distorted, almost desperate.
"You can't trust each other. You will fail. You must fail."
Dominic grinned, his confidence restored. "Looks like you're the one failing."
Sincerity smirked, stepping beside him. "What's wrong, system? Not used to players who don't break?"
The remaining shadows hissed, retreating into the walls. The door to the next floor appeared, glowing brightly.
"Trial complete. Proceed."
As they ascended the staircase, Dominic glanced at Sincerity. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, though her expression was guarded. "I am now. You?"
"Same," Dominic said. He hesitated, then added, "It almost got to me. For a second, I thought... maybe it was right. About everything."
Sincerity stopped, placing a hand on his arm. "It wasn't. You're not the monster it tried to make you believe you are. And neither am I."
Dominic smiled faintly, her words grounding him. "Thanks."
"Anytime," she said. "But let's not let it happen again."
"Agreed."
With renewed determination, they continued upward, ready to face whatever the Tower threw at them next.
As Dominic and Sincerity ascended the staircase to the fifth floor, the Tower seemed to grow colder and darker, its oppressive energy intensifying with each step. The faint hum of the system's presence had become a low, menacing thrum, echoing in their minds like a heartbeat out of sync.
Dominic tightened his grip on his sword, glancing at Sincerity. "It's getting worse."
She nodded, her sharp eyes scanning the shifting walls. "It's angry. Desperate. The last trial didn't work, so now it's going to try harder."
"Let it," Dominic said, his jaw tightening. "It can throw whatever it wants at us. We're not breaking."
Sincerity smirked faintly, though her expression was tense. "Damn right we're not."
The door to the fifth floor slid open, revealing a featureless white chamber that stretched infinitely in all directions. Dominic and Sincerity stepped inside cautiously, their footsteps echoing unnaturally.
"Floor 5: The Trial of Isolation. Bonds are weakness. Trust is a lie. Only the strong survive alone."
Before either of them could react, the ground beneath them split apart, and they were pulled in opposite directions by an unseen force.
"Dominic!" Sincerity's voice echoed, panic lacing her tone as she disappeared into the blinding void.
"Sincerity!" Dominic shouted, but his words were swallowed by the silence as the room reformed around him.
Dominic stood alone in a room identical to the one he had just left. The air felt heavier, and the faint thrum of the system grew louder, like a mocking whisper in his ears.
"She's gone. You're alone. You've always been alone."
The voice wasn't Sincerity's—it was his own, warped and distorted.
Dominic shook his head, gripping his sword tightly. "No. She's not gone. She's still here."
"You think she needs you? She's better off without you. Stronger without you."
The room shimmered, and Dominic's younger self appeared before him, bound and trembling in the cupboard. The boy's wide, fearful eyes locked onto him.
"You couldn't save me," the child said, his voice trembling. "What makes you think you can save her?"
Dominic staggered back, his breath hitching. "You're not real," he whispered, his voice shaky. "You're just another trick."
The boy's face twisted into a cruel smile. "I'm as real as your failure."
Sincerity awoke in a chamber that mirrored Dominic's, her daggers still at her sides but offering little comfort. The silence pressed down on her, a suffocating weight that made her throat tighten.
"You're alone. Forgotten. Just like before."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, wrapping around her like a vice.
"I'm not alone," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her.
"Dominic has left you. He's moving on, climbing the Tower without you. Why would he wait for someone as broken as you?"
The air shimmered, and a grotesque figure stepped forward—Dominic, his face cold and lifeless, his hands stained with blood.
"I don't need you," the shadow-Dominic said, his voice flat. "You're just a liability. A relic of a mistake I made years ago."
Sincerity's breath caught, but she forced herself to stand tall. "You're not him. You're just the system trying to break me. It won't work."
The shadow smiled. "Won't it?"
The chambers began to shift and distort, the walls closing in as the system's voice grew louder, its tone filled with mockery.
"You cannot win. You will fail. Your bond is meaningless. You are nothing."
Dominic gritted his teeth, focusing on the memory of Sincerity's voice. "She's still here," he said to himself. "She's waiting for me."
Sincerity pressed her hands against her ears, forcing herself to think of Dominic. "He wouldn't leave me. He's stronger than that."
The system retaliated, the rooms filling with ghostly images of their fears—Dominic locked away and starving, Sincerity hunted and bleeding, their worst moments replayed endlessly.
"Give up. Give in. You cannot endure."
Dominic closed his eyes, gripping his sword tightly. "Enough," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "You want to isolate me? Fine. But I'll never forget who I'm fighting for."
He slashed through the illusions, the blade glowing with a faint light as the images dissolved. The room trembled, cracks forming in the walls as he pushed forward.
"Sincerity!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the void.
In her chamber, Sincerity felt the faint vibration of his voice. Her heart steadied, and she gripped her daggers tightly.
"You can't keep us apart," she said, her voice fierce. "Dominic!"
The chambers cracked and shattered, the illusions dissolving as the two of them were pulled back into the same space. They stood facing each other, battered but resolute.
The system's voice faltered, its tone laced with frustration.
"You cannot defy me. You will fail. You must fail."
Dominic smirked, stepping toward Sincerity. "Keep telling yourself that."
She grinned, standing beside him. "We've heard it all before."
As the door to the sixth floor appeared, Dominic and Sincerity paused to catch their breath.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.
She nodded, though her hands were still trembling slightly. "Yeah. You?"
Dominic hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I am now."
She reached out, squeezing his hand briefly. "They're scared of us, you know. The system wouldn't be trying so hard if we weren't a threat."
Dominic smiled faintly, her words steadying him. "Then let's keep being a threat."
With renewed determination, they ascended to the next floor, ready for whatever came next.