The door to the next floor opened with a low groan, revealing a vast chamber bathed in a soft, golden light. At its centre, atop a small pedestal, was a baby. The infant lay swaddled in a bundle of pristine white cloth, its tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. It looked impossibly serene, untouched by the horrors of the Tower.
Dominic and Sincerity froze, their eyes locked on the child.
"What... is this?" Sincerity whispered, her voice trembling.
Dominic stepped forward cautiously, his wings glowing faintly in the dim light. "It's a test," he said grimly.
The system's voice echoed, cold and calculating.
"Floor 71: The Trial of Sacrifice. You may take the child with you, but only two may ascend to the next floor. Decide now."
Sincerity approached the pedestal, her sharp features softening as she knelt beside the child. The baby stirred slightly, letting out a tiny coo, its small hand reaching toward her.
"It's just a baby," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Completely helpless. It didn't choose to be here."
Dominic stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "None of us did," he said quietly. "The system is testing us again. Trying to make us choose."
"But how can we leave it?" Sincerity said, her sharp eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's innocent, Dominic. It hasn't done anything to deserve this."
Sincerity's wings dimmed slightly as she stared at the baby. Her mind raced with memories of her own fall, of the first years she spent in purgatory—scared, alone, and helpless. She clenched her fists, her guilt pressing down on her like a physical weight.
"I can't leave it," she said firmly. "I won't. If we don't take it, the system will... who knows what it'll do."
Dominic's chest tightened, her emotions brushing against his own through their bond. He could feel her guilt, her determination, her pain.
"Sincerity," he said gently, "you're not to blame for this. The system is doing this to us. It's trying to break you."
She shook her head, her voice breaking. "But if we leave, it'll be defenceless. I'll be no better than the angels who left me to suffer."
Dominic straightened, his wings flaring slightly as he scanned the chamber. His mind raced, searching for a solution, a loophole—anything that would allow them to take the child without leaving one of them behind.
"There has to be another way," he muttered, his hands clenching into fists. "We can't just leave it."
He approached the edges of the chamber, examining the walls and the glowing runes that lined them. He activated his interface, hoping the system might reveal some hidden rule or alternative path.
Nothing.
"Damn it," Dominic growled, slamming a fist against the wall.
Sincerity watched him, her expression torn. "Dominic..."
"I'm not giving up," he said fiercely, his voice filled with desperation. "There's always another way. There has to be."
The system's voice returned, colder and more mocking than before.
"There is no other way. Only two may ascend. The child cannot. Make your choice, or all will fall."
Sincerity flinched at the words, her wings dimming further. She picked up the baby, cradling it gently as tears welled in her eyes. "I can't just leave it. It's not right, Dominic. It's not fair."
"It's not," Dominic agreed, his voice trembling. "But neither is this place. The Tower isn't fair, Sincerity. It's cruel. It's trying to use your compassion against you."
Her jaw tightened, her gaze locking onto his. "So what do we do? Just walk away? Leave it here to die?"
Dominic hesitated, his chest tightening as he struggled to find an answer.
After a long silence, Sincerity placed the baby back on the pedestal, her hands trembling. The child stirred, its tiny hand brushing against hers as if sensing her distress.
"I hate this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hate this place. I hate this system. I hate that I can't save it."
Dominic stepped beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You're not the one to blame, Sincerity. You're not the one leaving it here. The system is."
She nodded slowly, though her tears continued to fall. "But that doesn't make it hurt any less."
"I know," Dominic said, his own voice thick with emotion. "I know."
With heavy hearts, they turned toward the exit, the baby's soft coos echoing behind them. Sincerity hesitated at the threshold, her wings dimmed almost to darkness.
"Dominic," she said, her voice trembling, "what if this breaks me? What if I can't live with this?"
He turned to her, his hand brushing against hers. "Then I'll carry it for both of us," he said. "Whatever it takes, I'll make sure we get through this. Together."
Her gaze softened, her wings glowing faintly as she nodded. "Always."
As they stepped through the door, the system's voice returned, its tone filled with triumph.
"Trial complete. Proceed."
But the words offered no comfort.
As they ascended the staircase to the next floor, Sincerity's guilt and sorrow pressed heavily on their bond, her emotions a constant ache in Dominic's mind.
"We'll come back for it," he said suddenly, his voice firm.
Sincerity looked at him, her eyes wide. "What?"
"When we're done here," he said, his resolve hardening, "when the system is gone, we'll come back. We'll find it. We'll make this right."
Her lips trembled, a faint hope flickering in her eyes. "Do you mean that?"
"Always," Dominic said, his hand gripping hers tightly.
She nodded, her wings glowing brighter. "Then let's make sure we win."
"Together," Dominic said.
"Always," she replied, stepping forward with renewed determination.
The staircase to the seventy-second floor was oppressively silent, the air thick with the unspoken weight of their decision. Dominic and Sincerity ascended side by side, but the bond between them buzzed faintly with Sincerity's guilt and sorrow.
Dominic glanced at her as they climbed, her wings dim and her expression distant. The memory of the baby's soft coos echoed in his mind, an ache he knew she felt even more acutely.
"Sincerity," he said gently, his voice breaking the silence.
She didn't look at him. "I know what you're going to say, Dominic. Don't."
"You don't have to carry this alone," he said, his tone soft but firm.
Her sharp eyes flicked to him, though the pain in them was evident. "Don't I? I was the one who wanted to save it. I was the one who failed."
He stopped, placing a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to meet his gaze. "You didn't fail. The system is set up to make us lose. It made this choice impossible."
Sincerity's jaw tightened, her voice trembling. "And we still walked away. How can I live with that?"
"You live with it," Dominic said, his voice steady, "by remembering why we're here. To stop this. To make sure it never happens again."
Her eyes softened, a faint glow returning to her wings. "You always know what to say, don't you?"
He smiled faintly. "Not always. But I'll keep trying."
"Together," she said, the word carrying a fragile hope.
"Always," Dominic replied.
The doorway to the seventy-second floor was jagged and dark, the runes on its surface flickering erratically. Dominic and Sincerity stepped through cautiously, their wings illuminating the chamber beyond.
The room was vast and circular, its walls lined with mirrors that reflected their glowing forms. But the reflections were distorted, their features twisted and grotesque.
As they moved further in, the air grew colder, and the sound of faint whispers filled the space.
"Welcome to the Trial of Reflection," the system's voice intoned, its tone sharp and mocking. "Your strength, your resolve, your very bond will be tested. Face yourselves or fall."
The mirrors shimmered, and from their surfaces stepped shadowy figures—distorted versions of Dominic and Sincerity.
Dominic's reflection was larger, bulkier, with glowing red eyes and a jagged, blackened sword. It moved with cold precision, its expression devoid of humanity.
"You think you're a saviour" it said, its voice a cruel echo of Dominic's own. "But you're nothing more than a thief, a murderer, a liar."
Sincerity's reflection was monstrous, her wings torn and bleeding, her face twisted with rage.
"You're weak," it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. "You couldn't save the baby, and you couldn't save him. You're just a failure pretending to be strong."
Sincerity stiffened, her daggers flashing as she raised them. "You're not me," she growled. "You're just another trick."
Dominic stepped forward, his sword igniting with radiant energy. "And you don't get to define us."
The shadows charged, their movements unnervingly fluid. Dominic and Sincerity moved as one, their bond guiding their actions as they fought.
Dominic clashed with his reflection, their blades meeting in a flurry of sparks. The shadow fought with cold, brutal efficiency, its strikes relentless.
"You can't save her," it sneered. "You'll fail her, just like you've failed everyone else."
Dominic gritted his teeth, his voice steady. "Not this time." He slashed upward, his blade cleaving through the shadow, which dissolved into smoke.
Sincerity faced her own reflection with equal ferocity. The monstrous version of herself lunged, its claws raking at her wings.
"You think he loves you?" it hissed. "He pities you. That's all."
Sincerity's eyes blazed, her daggers striking true. "You don't know anything about us."
Her reflection crumbled, its form dissolving into ash.
The mirrors around them shattered, the shards floating in the air like fragments of frozen light. The system's voice returned, its tone filled with frustration.
"You cannot win forever. Your bond will fail. Your resolve will falter."
Dominic smirked, his grip on his sword steady. "Keep telling yourself that."
Sincerity rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "If it hasn't broken us yet, it's not going to."
The doorway to the seventy-third floor appeared, glowing faintly.
As they stepped through the exit, the tension in the air began to ease. Dominic glanced at Sincerity, her wings glowing brighter now.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. "A little. It still hurts... leaving the baby. But I know we're doing this for the right reasons. And I'm not alone."
"You never will be," Dominic said, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
"Together," she said, her expression softening.
"Always," he replied.
With renewed determination, they continued their ascent, ready to face whatever the Tower had in store for them next.
The staircase to the seventy-third floor stretched endlessly, the glow of the next doorway faint and distant. The air grew colder with each step, the oppressive presence of the system pressing against Dominic and Sincerity like an unseen weight.
As they climbed, the bond between them buzzed faintly with tension. Sincerity's guilt over the baby lingered like a shadow, and Dominic's determination to shield her from that pain only intensified the strain.
The system's voice returned, quiet but insidious, wrapping around their thoughts like smoke.
"You believe you are unbreakable. You cling to each other as if that will save you. But trust can be twisted. Bonds can be severed. I will show you the truth."
Dominic gritted his teeth, his wings flaring faintly. "Here we go again."
"Let it try," Sincerity said, her voice sharp but tinged with unease. "We've faced worse."
The doorway to the seventy-third floor opened with a low groan, revealing a vast chamber bathed in a dim, flickering light. The walls were lined with towering mirrors, each reflecting not their current forms but fragments of their pasts.
Dominic saw himself as a child, tied up and trembling in the darkness of a cupboard. He flinched, the memory clawing at him even as he forced himself to look away.
Sincerity's reflection showed her as she once was—a radiant guardian angel, her wings shining brightly. But the image warped, her wings ripping away in a spray of blood as she fell screaming into the abyss.
"Don't look," Dominic said, his voice firm.
But before they could move further, the mirrors shimmered, and the air around them shifted.
The chamber blurred, and when the haze cleared, Dominic found himself standing alone. Sincerity was gone.
"Sincerity!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty room.
The system's voice returned, colder and sharper than before.
"She has abandoned you. She sees your weakness and knows you will fail. She has chosen to save herself."
Dominic clenched his fists, his wings flaring angrily. "Lies. She'd never leave me."
"Wouldn't she? She knows you're holding her back. She knows you're nothing without her."
A figure emerged from the shadows—Sincerity, her sharp eyes cold and filled with disdain. Her wings glowed faintly, but they were tattered and dark.
"You're pathetic," the illusion spat. "Clinging to me like some lifeline. You think I'd choose you over freedom? Over survival? You're nothing to me."
Dominic hesitated, his heart pounding as the bond between them grew faint, as though muffled by the system's interference.
"You're not real," he growled, raising his sword. "And you don't know her."
The illusion laughed coldly, its voice echoing unnaturally. "Are you so sure?"
Meanwhile, Sincerity found herself alone in a mirrored chamber. Dominic's absence was an immediate ache in her chest, the bond between them faint and muted.
"Dominic!" she called, her voice trembling.
The system's voice replied, smooth and mocking.
"He has left you. He sees your weakness and knows you will fail. He has chosen to ascend without you."
She shook her head, her daggers flashing in the dim light. "That's not true. He'd never abandon me."
"Wouldn't he? He knows you can't give him what he wants. He knows you're broken, a shell of what you once were. Why would he stay?"
A figure stepped forward—Dominic, but it was wrong. His wings were darker, his expression cruel.
"You're a burden," the illusion said coldly. "You couldn't save the baby, and you couldn't save yourself. Why would I want you by my side?"
Sincerity clenched her fists, her wings dimming. The words cut deep, mirroring the doubts she hadn't dared to voice.
"You're not him," she said fiercely, though her voice wavered. "Dominic isn't like you. He'd never say that."
"Are you sure?" the illusion replied, its smile sharp and mocking.
Dominic raised his sword, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. "You can't make me doubt her. We've faced worse than your lies."
The illusion charged, its wings flaring as it attacked. Dominic met it head-on, their blades clashing in a flurry of sparks.
"I trust her," he said through gritted teeth, each strike growing more confident. "No matter what you say."
Sincerity faced her own illusion with equal determination, her daggers flashing as she blocked its strikes.
"Dominic trusts me," she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. "And I trust him. You can't take that away from us."
The illusions faltered, their forms flickering as the bond between Dominic and Sincerity pulsed with renewed strength.
The mirrors around them shattered as the illusions dissolved into smoke. Dominic and Sincerity were pulled back into the same chamber, their eyes locking immediately.
"Sincerity," Dominic said, relief flooding his voice.
"Dominic," she replied, her sharp eyes softening.
They moved toward each other, their hands brushing as the bond between them surged, its light brighter than before.
The system's voice returned, laced with frustration.
"You cannot endure forever. Your bond is unnatural. It will break."
Dominic smirked, his grip on his sword firm. "Keep telling yourself that."
Sincerity rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "You'd think it would've learned by now."
As they stepped through the exit, the tension in the air began to ease. Dominic glanced at Sincerity, her wings glowing brighter now.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded, her voice steady. "I am now. We got this, Dominic. We'll be ready for whatever it throws at us."
"Together," he said, his wings flaring.
"Always," she replied, stepping forward with renewed determination.
The door to the seventy-fourth floor opened to reveal a massive stone courtyard bathed in a harsh, golden light. Towers rose high into the artificial sky, their walls etched with celestial runes that pulsed faintly. The air was filled with the rhythmic marching of thousands of angelic hunters, their armoured forms gleaming as they patrolled the area.
Dominic and Sincerity stepped cautiously into the courtyard, the glow of their wings dimmed to avoid drawing attention.
"This is... a fortress," Dominic said, his voice low.
Sincerity's sharp eyes scanned the crowd, her jaw tightening as she recognised some of the hunters. "Not just a fortress. It's a garrison. And these aren't just hunters—they're angels."
Dominic frowned, gripping his sword. "Angels? Like... ones you knew?"
She nodded, her voice tense. "Yes. Some of them were my comrades before I fell. And the one leading them..." She hesitated, her wings trembling faintly. "Her name is Dyanari. She was my commander."
The disembodied voice of the system echoed through the courtyard, its tone cold and mocking.
"Floor 74: The Trial of Command. Before you lies an army, loyal to their leader. Are you seeking the key to the next floor? You have to get it from Dyanari. Succeed or perish."
Dominic gritted his teeth. "By any means, huh?"
Sincerity's expression darkened. "Dyanari won't give it up easily. She's as relentless as they come. And if she sees me..." She trailed off, the bond between them buzzing faintly with her unease.
"She'll recognise you," Dominic finished. "And she'll see you as a traitor."
Sincerity nodded, her sharp features hardening. "This won't just be a fight, Dominic. This will be personal."
The sheer number of hunters was overwhelming. Thousands of them patrolled the courtyard and the towers, their movements precise and disciplined. Their armour gleamed like polished silver, and their weapons—spears, swords, and bows—glowed faintly with celestial energy.
Dominic and Sincerity ducked behind a stone wall, observing the patrol patterns.
"We can't fight them all," Dominic said quietly. "Even with our bond, we'd be overwhelmed."
"We don't have to fight them all," Sincerity replied, her gaze fixed on the tallest tower at the centre of the garrison. "Dyanari will be there. If we can get to her, we might be able to end this quickly."
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "And how do we get to her without getting swarmed?"
Sincerity hesitated, her expression troubled. "I might be able to get close to her. If I can talk to her, I might be able to convince her to give us the key."
"Convince her?" Dominic repeated, his voice sceptical.
"She's not just a commander," Sincerity said. "She's a zealot. But she wasn't always heartless. If I can remind her of who she used to be, maybe..." She trailed off, the bond between them humming faintly with doubt.
Dominic placed a hand on her shoulder. "If anyone can get through to her, it's you. But I'm not letting you do this alone."
Using the shadows for cover, they moved through the courtyard, avoiding patrols and ducking behind pillars and crates. Sincerity's knowledge of the angels' tactics proved invaluable, her instructions guiding them safely through the labyrinth of soldiers.
When they reached the base of the central tower, a pair of guards blocked the entrance. Sincerity stepped forward, her wings dimmed but her stance confident.
"Let me handle this," she whispered to Dominic.
Before he could protest, she approached the guards, her expression neutral.
"Sincerity," one of them said, his voice tinged with shock. "It's you."
"I need to see Dyanari," Sincerity said, her voice steady. "It's urgent."
The guards exchanged glances, their expressions conflicted. Finally, one of them nodded. "Go. She won't be happy to see you."
The tower's interior was cold and sterile, its walls lined with glowing runes. At the top, in a grand hall filled with banners and weapons, Dyanari waited.
She was an imposing figure, her armour etched with intricate symbols of her rank. Her wings were massive, glowing with an intensity that made Dominic's and Sincerity's seem dim by comparison. Her eyes burned with righteous fury as she turned to face them.
"Sincerity," Dyanari said, her voice cold and sharp. "I never thought I'd see you again. You've fallen far."
"I've fallen, yes," Sincerity said, stepping forward. "But not in the way you think."
Dyanari's gaze flicked to Dominic, her expression hardening. "And who is this mortal you've allied yourself with? Another pawn in your rebellion?"
Dominic opened his mouth to respond, but Sincerity held up a hand to stop him.
"I'm not here to argue," she said. "I need the key to the next floor."
Dyanari laughed, the sound cold and bitter. "The key? You expect me to hand it over to a traitor and her pet mortal? You've truly lost your mind."
Sincerity stepped closer, her wings glowing faintly. "You taught me to protect the innocent, to fight for what's right. But look at what this place has become. Look at what the system is doing. This isn't justice, Dyanari. It's cruel."
Dyanari's expression flickered, a momentary hesitation crossing her face.
"I haven't forgotten your lessons," Sincerity continued, her voice softer now. "But I've learned that blind obedience isn't the same as righteousness. Please, Dyanari. If there's any part of you that remembers who you used to be, help me. Help us."
The bond between Dominic and Sincerity pulsed faintly, her sincerity and conviction washing over him like a tide.
Dyanari hesitated, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "You always were stubborn," she said finally. "But I won't betray my duty. If you want the key, you'll have to take it."
Dyanari drew her sword, its blade blazing with celestial energy. "If you truly believe in your cause, prove it."
Dominic stepped forward, his wings flaring. "We don't want to fight you, but we will if we have to."
"Then prepare yourselves," Dyanari said, her voice fierce.
The chamber erupted into chaos as the three clashed, their weapons glowing brightly against the cold, dark walls. Dyanari fought with precision and power, her strikes forcing Dominic and Sincerity to work together seamlessly.
But despite her strength, Dyanari was only one opponent. Their bond guided their movements, their strikes perfectly synchronised.
In the end, it was Sincerity who disarmed Dyanari, her daggers slicing through the straps of her armour. Dominic held his sword to her throat, his expression grim.
"Enough," he said. "This doesn't have to end badly."
Dyanari glared at them but finally lowered her head. "Take it," she said, tossing the key at Sincerity's feet. "But know this: you may win this battle, but the system will destroy you."
Sincerity picked up the key, her expression unreadable. "We'll see about that."