Third Implantation (24)

The dark, swirling energies of the portal dissipated. Vastarael found himself standing in the middle of what could only be described as a medieval royal bedroom, but on a scale of elegance that felt entirely surreal.

The room was smaller than any of the previous forty-six floors he had visited, different from the expansive and often oppressive chambers filled with traps, monsters, and labyrinthine layouts.

Here, the design was deliberate, intimate, and far too... normal. It was the smallest floor in the spire, being the size of a massive royal bedroom.

Golden filigree adorned the edges of the furniture, which included a king-sized canopy bed draped with deep crimson and black velvet curtains.

The floor was polished obsidian, gleaming with delicate gold veins that reflected the soft daylight streaming in through the large, pristine windows. The windows, Vastarael noted, were unlike anything he'd seen in the spire thus far. They weren't blackened voids. Instead, they were beautifully arched and framed with white stone, offering a breathtaking view of... daylight.

Vastarael blinked. Daylight?

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world outside wasn't some apocalyptic wasteland or ominous cosmic abyss. Instead, it was warm, bright, and alive. He could see rolling hills of green, dotted with settlements that swayed in the gentle breeze.

"Okay, this is weird."

The room smelled faintly of flowers and scented wood. His gaze traveled to the far end of the room. But before Vastarael could take another step, something else caught his eye or rather, someone.

Sitting on the massive bed, legs casually crossed and back reclined against the plush pillows, was a woman.

She was utterly naked.

Vastarael froze. His golden eyes snapped shut as if burned, his face contorting into a mix of frustration and disbelief. He groaned loudly, his free hand flying up to shield his face.

"Oh, come on! Seriously? Of all the things I expected to find on the forty-seventh floor... a dragon, a boss monster, anything, and this is what I get? A naked woman?"

The woman giggled softly.

"I didn't think you'd be so shy, Prince Vastarael. After all, you've seen plenty of blood and gore today. Surely a little bare skin isn't so scandalous?"

"Look, lady," Vastarael muttered, keeping his eyes firmly shut as he turned his back to her. "I've been through a lot. Like, a lot. I just incinerated a Divine, nearly froze to death and got adopted by a creepy spire. The last thing I need right now is... this."

She giggled again, the sound sending an odd shiver down his spine.

"Then perhaps you'd like to offer me something to wear? Or shall I continue to offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"Fine, fine! Just... hold on."

He flicked his wrist, summoning his inventory portal. Reaching inside, he pulled out one of his black hoodies and held it behind him, still refusing to look.

"Here. Put this hoodie on."

She tilted her head, her crimson-irised gaze sparkling with curiosity as she took the strange garment from him.

What is this? A... hoody?"

She pronounced the word awkwardly, as though it was completely foreign to her.

"Yeah, a hoodie. It's comfortable, it's warm, and it'll stop you from giving me a headache. Now hurry up and put it on already. Geez..."

There was a rustle of fabric as she slipped the hoodie over her head. The oversized garment swallowed her frame, the hem falling well past her inner thighs. The sight made her chuckle softly as she inspected herself.

"How curious. It's quite soft... and it smells like you."

Vastarael's golden eyes snapped open, narrowing in annoyance as he turned halfway toward her, careful to keep his gaze above her shoulders.

"Great. Now let me grab you some pants—"

"No need," she interrupted, lifting her hand in a casual, dismissive gesture. "This 'hoody' is sufficient. It's warm enough."

"Wait, what? You're just gonna wear the hoodie? You realize that's not how it's supposed to work, right? You're supposed to wear pants too."

Vastarael didn't think why he was talking to a stranger. But knowing his Boon, he was sure that it would somehow save him if the enemy was a woman. She smirked, leaning back against the pillows.

"I'm perfectly comfortable as I am, thank you. Besides, aren't you the one who gave me this strange garment? Surely you can't complain about how I choose to wear it."

Vastarael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "This is ridiculous."

Deciding not to argue further, he finally allowed himself to take a proper look at her. And what he saw made him pause.

She was, without question, stunning. Her bronze skin gleamed in the soft daylight. Her dark raven hair flowed like liquid shadows, literally, cascading down her back in silky waves that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

But it was her eyes that struck him most. They were an onyx-black sclera with piercing crimson irises that glowed faintly, radiating an otherworldly intensity.

For a moment, Vastarael forgot to breathe. Then he sighed, scowling as he shook his head.

"Yeah, okay. Great. You're pretty. Can we move on now?"

She laughed again.

"You're an interesting one, Vastarael Richinaria. Not many men would have kept their composure in your position."

"Trust me, I've seen enough crazy stuff today to last a lifetime. This? This barely registers."

"Oh? Then I suppose you're ready to hear why I'm here, and why this floor exists at all? Or who I am?"

Vastarael's lips curled into a faint, confident smirk of his own. He replied smoothly, leaning his glaive against the wall as he crossed his arms.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are. You're Krepsuna royalty, a Phantasm of the highest rank. Krepsuna don't get much more terrifying than that. I also know you were killed by your own husband. So yeah, I know exactly who I'm talking to, Erna."

Her smirk faltered just for a moment, as Vastarael's words settled into the air. She tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder like literal liquid shadows.

"And yet, here you are," she mused, resting her chin delicately on her hand. "No hesitation, no trembling. Mortals and Ascenders alike would crumble before me, yet you stand there... smug."

He shrugged, "Well, for starters, both my parents are Nexuses. Growing up around that tends to put things into perspective. Compared to them, you're... well, not that scary. Besides, if we're being honest, you're a lot better to look at than your children."

Her composure wavered this time, a faint blush creeping across her bronze cheeks, a hue almost lost against her rich complexion. For someone who carried herself with millennia-old dignity and the aura of an unshakable queen, it was an uncharacteristic slip.

Vastarael caught it immediately, his sharp gaze narrowing in amusement. He wasn't blind or stupid. He knew how good he looked and he wasn't oblivious to how she saw him. That subtle, fleeting glance she gave him earlier, the faint shift in her tone when she said his name, the way she decided to wear one garment... it was all there. She lifted her chin, as though trying to reclaim the upper hand.

"You are... bold. It is rare for anyone, mortal or otherwise, to speak to me in such a manner. Most grovel. Many run."

"And yet here we are," Vastarael countered smoothly. "Just a conversation between a Phantasm and a handsome prince."

Her crimson irises glimmered faintly as she observed him, her head tilting just slightly.

Handsome, are you?"

"You said it. Not me."

She exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, though it carried the weight of someone unaccustomed to humor.

"You're either reckless or foolish."

"I prefer 'confident.' And judging by the fact that you're not threatening to disembowel me, I'd say you don't hate it."

Her blush deepened just slightly but she waved him off with a regal flick of her wrist.

"Do not test your luck, Vastarael," she warned, though there was no real malice in her voice.

"Noted. But for the record, I meant what I said. You're really beautiful. Seriously, are Krepsunas above Forgotten Rank this good looking? Sometimes I forget that Krepsunas are from a world similar to ours."

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Then, she straightened her posture, her tone slipping back into formal precision.

"You are... intriguing. Perhaps we are not so different, you and I."

Vastarael leaned casually against the wall, his arms still crossed, and gave her a sly smile.

"Yeah? Guess we'll find out. So tell me, Erna, why are you faking your death?"

Erna froze.

"You know, when one becomes a god, they don't die permanently. They literally become immortal. If they are killed, they will come back centuries later, reformed and stronger than before with their memories intact. But a Nexus? Or in this case, a Phantasm? Lies."

She was too stunned to speak.

"My father told me how Nexuses work. If they die, their soul exists as their second body. And the soul is indestructible that nothing can harm it at all. Sure, your husband killed you in your Phantasm Krepsuna form and your body became the Erna Isles. But your soul is indestructible, isn't it? You're literally immortal. You can't die permanently."

Erna's eyes narrowed.

"And Shimmer remembers her mother being killed by her father, although she doesn't remember that. You faked your death, didn't you? So why don't you tell me, Erna? What's your goal? Why would you go so far as to abandon your children and create a spire, lie to them that you're dead and lure me here from the first floor to the last one? And why did you give me all those trials?"