Zami's fingers closed around the shard that had fallen from the dissolved chains. His silver eyes studied it with a mix of curiosity and wariness. It was different from the others—its surface gleamed with a pure white glow, almost too bright, like a light that didn't belong in the dark, oppressive world of the Withering Spire. The shard felt… artificial in his grip, as if it didn't belong to this place.
He turned it over in his hands, the faint pulse of energy that emanated from it unsettling. This was unlike the jagged, dense shard of Wailing Dread, and nothing like the heavy, almost suffocating presence of the Bone Monarch's shard. This one was… too clean, too perfect.
"Karesh," Zami asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, "Why is this shard different? Why does it feel so... fake?"
Karesh's voice echoed in the depths of Zami's mind, as cold and cryptic as ever.
"The Withering Spire is a place of trials," Karesh replied, his tone unwavering. "It doesn't just test your strength and skill. It forces you to confront your worst memories, your darkest fears, and challenges your very identity. This shard... it is not born of the creatures you've defeated. It is a reflection of those memories—an imitation of something pure, something unattainable. The Spire creates false versions of that which has already been defeated. It tries to deceive you, make you believe in something that isn't real."
Zami gripped the shard tighter, his muscles tensing as he considered Karesh's words. A fake version of purity? Something unattainable? The shard seemed to pulse in response to his thoughts, but it felt hollow in his grasp, lacking the weight of the other two shards he had collected—the jagged, dark power of Wailing Dread, and the dense, oppressive energy of Bone Monarch.
He examined it more closely, as if searching for something that would confirm his suspicions. The shard's white glow remained steady, almost gleaming, like a beacon in the darkness of the Spire. But there was no depth to it, no complexity. Just brightness, a light that was too clean to belong in this world.
"I can feel it," Zami muttered to himself. "It's not like the others… it's pretending to be something it's not."
He tucked the shard into his pouch, feeling an uneasy weight in his chest. Was this just another test, another manipulation by the Spire? Or was there something more to it—something he would need to confront later?
The platform beneath his feet trembled as if reacting to his unease, and Zami took a deep breath, grounding himself. He had faced too many challenges in this cursed place to be distracted by a mere shard. His mission was clear—defeat the remaining vessels, reach the top, and uncover the truth. This false shard would have to wait for now.
"Karesh," Zami said, his voice calm but firm. "We move on. Whatever this shard is, I'll deal with it later."
Karesh was silent for a moment, as if considering the weight of Zami's words. Then, his voice returned, as cold and matter-of-fact as ever.
"Very well. But remember, Zami, the Spire shows you what you fear most. And it is not just the shards it twists."
Zami's hand gripped his katana tightly, his eyes narrowing. He could feel the tension in the air as the staircase appeared before him once again.
With a final glance at the platform, he ascended, determined to push forward. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on.