Chapter 77. New rules: What awaits on the other side of the canvas?

My fever persisted for over five hours before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

In recent years, a recurring dream had taken root within me:

Darkness, a suffocating void enveloping me, crumbling my body and soul into ephemeral dust, and my consciousness into a vessel teeming with frantic thoughts.

In this surreal realm, I perpetually sought an exit from this imprisoning cocoon, only to be thwarted by insurmountable barriers.

Like a fish within an aquarium, I counted each passing second, oscillating between the sensation of newly entering this place and having been trapped there for an eternity.

Awakening, I jolted upright, a damp cloth slipping from my forehead to the floor. Gazing down, I saw a handkerchief saturated with medicinal elixir. Yuna was dozing nearby, her shoulder pressed against the chamber wall, her grip involuntary, clasping my hand.

My entire body lay numb beneath the weight of my armor. As I stretched my limbs, my gaze fell upon Drak. His severed tail was conspicuously absent, and his figure appeared even smaller in repose. I couldn't help but crack a sardonic grin.

Heh.

At this pace, only a handful would emerge from this infernal ordeal unscathed.

I wondered about the fates of the others.

Gazing up at the ceiling, I inquired of the system:

[When are we scheduled to engage the Boss?]

[In 7 hours and 5 minutes.]

Such a protracted slumber...

A pained groan heralded Sam's awakening. Gangrene had consumed his leg up to the shin.

With a tight-lipped expression, I approached him and settled at his side.

"Well, doesn't look too promising, does it? Ha-ha." Chuckling, the beast veiled his face with a hand. "I doubt I'll make it. I don't want to be a burden; I'd understand if you saw me as expendable."

Indeed, the wound was grievous, reminiscent of the poison I had employed on the rat.

"Yes." As my fingers made contact with his ankle, a primal scream rent the air, jolting the two sleepers to consciousness.

"AHHH... KAI, WHAT THE HELL?!" Sam's howl reverberated, his fist striking the ground.

"Poisonous," I murmured.

"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, YOU M-MMM ..." Sam's transformation into a lynx was thwarted by the virulent poison, which intensified the decay of his cells.

"Save your strength," I advised, examining the necrotic wound before summoning a Spiritual Weapon.

"YOU... W-WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!" The lynx was already scaling the wall when I impaled his shin with the blade, methodically excising the infected flesh.

"AAAH.."

---

The bandaged creature lay in a corner, his tail huddled between his hind legs. One leg oozed blood.

"You're no ordinary beast..." Drak's tone lacked its usual sarcasm, replaced by astonishment.

"Correct, I am extraordinary. The team still requires fighters. Rejecting a potent contender over a minor injury would be imprudent." I wiped clean the blade and stowed away the Spiritual Weapon before sitting on the floor.

"Someone seeks our destruction. No doubt the Boss battle will be far from ordinary. Fate smiled upon my encounter at the Redemption Plaza." I produced three vials and provided a concise summary of my strategy.

Our course was clear—to swiftly navigate our way out of this predicament, engage in battles without defeat, and remain steadfast in our primary objective.

"We'll ascend to the Second Level, where we can rendezvous with the others. Swiftly joining forces with the main body of the Alliance is imperative." I concluded, passing the potent poison to my comrades.

Sam was the first to be whisked away by teleportation. Although his leg had made a partial recovery, it was enough for him to manage basic movements. After he downed a painkiller, he nodded to us, signaling his readiness.

With a subtle gesture, I dispatched a small shadow in his direction.

"I hope he'll be alright." Yuna's gaze lingered upon the fading figure of our comrade before she emitted a heavy sigh.

Seeing the tigress's shoulders slump, I offered a reassuring smile, running my fingers through her silky hair.

We waited for ten minutes, but there was no sign of Sam's return. As twenty more minutes elapsed, a portal materialized, swallowing a bewildered Drak.

Squinting slightly, I drew Yuna into a tight embrace and summoned back the Shadowed Familiars that had accompanied Sam.

The inaugural boss, initially a primitive entity from an ancient tribe, had displayed the capability to mimic its opponents. However, as the ranks and levels of the combatants elevated, the creature's mimicking abilities weakened, rendering it susceptible to even minor assaults. Gazing upon its newfound potency, I struggled to contain my emotions.

It had evolved beyond a mere shadowy imitation of others' abilities. It had transformed into a sentient entity, endowed with both intelligence and a comprehensive mastery of the skills it had assimilated thus far — even those that had eluded my perception. Moreover, its adeptness in manipulating the elements seemed to outshine that of several members within my Alliance.

[Did you witness that? How is any of this even conceivable?]

[This is likely tied to the opening of the 36th floor. Recall the red crystal I mentioned? It's plausible that its energy seeped through the portal, raising the capabilities of all Bosses. If it has extended its influence to the First Level, then it's likely that the others will soon strengthen as well... According to my calculations, the First floor of the First Level will soon rival the power of the Fourth Level, if not surpass it.]

What?!

Would that mean the poison becomes ineffectual?

Without a second thought, I delved into the inventory in search of artifacts and elixirs. Although extra Spiritual Stones had been distributed among the teams, many spent them on honing their own abilities and fortifying their bodies, often disregarding the purchase of supplementary resources.

Compiling them into a spatial ring, I presented a black oval object to Yuna:

"Sam hasn't returned. I suspect the Arena is undergoing transformations. It's not as it used to be. So... be cautious. Ensure your survival, alright? Ascend the levels, at least up to the Fourth. I'll be there."

Yuna's red gaze lifted to meet mine, a smile gracing her lips as she replied:

"I'll be awaiting your arrival. I promise."

Clutching the ring to her chest, she tilted her head to one side.

That marked the last time I witnessed that endearing smile on her scarlet lips, before being consumed by the black abyss of the portal.

"SURVIVE!"

---

Standing before the rocky citadel, I realized I had been transported to the Redemption Plaza.

A sprawling expanse occupied by a garden and palace, which only heightened my frustration.

What in the world?!

With a swift movement of my wings, I took flight.

The palace, sprawling across several thousand meters, felt eerily vacant. The park, once vibrant with evergreens, now seemed forlorn, its bushes losing their once tidy forms.

Mid-flight, a notification from the Caretakers reached me, originating somewhere above, beyond the cloudless sky.

"Regrettably, your redirection to the Redemption Plaza was in error. Presently, you're undergoing a step-by-step experiment following the New Rules of the Arena! You're required to survive in this realm for exactly 48 hours, utilizing every resource at your disposal. The tally of eliminated clones has been integrated into the core survival rules. Bear in mind, you're under the scrutiny not just of the spectators, but also the Caretakers."

"Your error isn't my responsibility. Why am I in this place?"

"Regrettably, your redirection to the Redemption Plaza was in error..."

It seemed this message had been prepared long before my arrival.

I wonder, could I have been the only one mistakenly transferred?

This whole situation is exceedingly exasperating.

Stepping onto the marble staircase, I summoned the General's Armor and began to ascend toward the open door.

Curious. While I've journeyed to countless locations before, I've rarely encountered settings exuding such an air of creativity, or...

On either side of the stone door, ancient sculptures of human deities were mounted. One of them held a rectangular object. Drawing closer, I noticed the gleam of an obsidian surface and leaned in to decipher the inscription with its faintly etched words.

Wiping away a thin layer of dust, I perused an intriguing declaration:

"When entering this sacred realm, abandon three notions:

The first is your name.

The second is your lineage.

The third is your own reality."

A shiver ran down my spine, and with a nonchalant shrug, I retrieved a red apple from my inventory ring and passed through the gilded threshold.

The doors sealed behind me soundlessly.

The doors sealed soundlessly behind me. As I turned around, I was met with a smooth wall, with the stained glass in the multihued windows refracting truly resplendent colors. The interior resembled more of an expansive gallery than an inhabited palace.

The ceiling, devoid of any blemish, bore frescoes depicting mountainous landscapes and ocean depths, intricately woven with enigmatic patterns. At a certain juncture, I even fancied I felt the sea breeze, its briny essence mingling with the sweet nectar of the fruit lingering upon my palate.

The canvases contained no living creatures, only landscapes painted with vivid detail — lush forests, towering mountains, barren deserts, sunsets, and even the nocturnal sky.

Gazing at one of the paintings, I squinted at a minuscule white speck barely visible through the verdant foliage of a dense forest.

"Ah, this painting speaks of a place called Khasol."

Only then did I register the presence of a figure nearby.

Golden locks cascaded over her ivory robe, her dual pairs of eyes bestowed upon me a kindly regard, while the pointed tips of her ears imbued her with a whimsically mystical aura.

Releasing the apple from my grasp, my gaze fixed upon the Leader of the Winged Alliance, Margot.

With a smile, the ethereal figure conjured a blood-red magic circle.

Evasion was my immediate response as the ensuing scene unfolded as a one-sided carnage.

An authentic demon materialized from within the depths of the painting, unleashed gusts of verdant leaves into the expansive hall. Stripping away layers of paint, its maw opened in a resounding roar, its wrathful gaze fixated upon me as its jaws snapped in my direction, only to be silenced by the eruption of the Destructive Resonance.

Initially, it stood no chance against Margot, who remained smiling — smeared in blood, a ferocity radiating from her that starkly contradicted her apathetic demeanor throughout the massacre.

Ripping the hulking head from the ravaged and now vacant canvas, Margot obliterated the painting via the invocation of yet another magic circle.

"Margot Dmitrievna has vanquished 17 archaic demon clones! Congratulations!..."