....
The room hissed open with a sound like a wound tearing.
It wasn't the Tower anymore.
This was something older.
Something designed.
EXIN stepped in, and the air changed.
It tasted like metal.
Smelled like rusted memory.
Felt like watching eyes crawling beneath the skin.
Rows of machines lined the walls—spindly, insect-like constructs with tubes running through their chests like veins.
They weren't powered by mana.
They weren't powered by electricity.
They were powered by dreams.
And those dreams were soaked in blood.
---
> "What is this place…?"
He whispered, but the room responded.
> "Sublevel: Echo Memory Lab."
"Cycle 039. Host: Honoured One. Status: Incomplete."
Incomplete.
Incomplete?
---
Screens blinked to life.
Each one showed a different version of him.
One standing before a crowd, giving a speech.
Another screaming in a battlefield, soaked in blood.
A third one kneeling before a child with wings of light—then burning that child to ash.
Every version ended the same:
Dead.
Or forgotten.
Or erased by his own hand.
---
This wasn't just a room.
It was a machine built to test his futures.
> "How many times have I tried to be better…?"
He didn't need an answer.
The machines twitched.
Woke.
Clanked.
And one stepped forward, its face stitched with wires, its eyes made of cracked crystal.
> "You are the variable that must not evolve," it said.
---
It lunged.
EXIN didn't dodge.
Not fully.
He let the blade graze his arm—pain sharp, clean, and necessary.
Blood spilled.
The machines shuddered at the sight.
Some screamed.
Some bowed.
One wept.
---
The spiral mark on his arm pulsed—then grew.
Bled black light across his shoulder and down his chest.
A new glyph carved itself into his ribs:
> ☼ — The Machine's Dream
He understood it instinctively.
Not a power.
Not a gift.
A curse.
Now, machines would always recognize him.
And they would either serve…
…or destroy him.
There would be no middle ground.
---
> "Why show me this now?" EXIN asked.
The machine's head cocked sideways.
> "You are becoming too real."
> "And reality is afraid of you."
---
Suddenly, the lights dimmed.
The monitors fizzled.
The blood in his veins slowed.
He saw something…
...beneath the Tower.
Something buried in wires and forgotten code.
> A machine.
With his face.
Dreaming of blood.
---
Its eyes opened.
> "This is only floor twelve," it whispered.
> "Wait until you meet what you left on floor thirty-two."
---
EXIN turned away, his breath shallow.
This wasn't about climbing anymore.
This was about remembering why he forgot.
He walked to the exit, dragging the weight of his own machine-bound fate behind him.
The next door opened—
a hallway of rust and static.
And somewhere deep inside…
The machine dreamed again.
Of war.
Of mercy.
Of his face…
But smiling.
---