The next floor didn't look like a dungeon at all.

When Arios and Liza emerged from the violet tunnel, the oppressive mana faded, replaced by an open stone courtyard that stretched under a faint, artificial sky. The floor was made of cracked marble tiles, arranged in a perfect square. Faded columns lined the edges, their designs worn by age. At the center stood a single pedestal holding what looked like a crystal tablet—dim, yet pulsing faintly with life.

Liza looked around slowly, lowering her weapon just slightly. "This… doesn't feel right."

"It's too open," Arios said. "No monsters. No traps visible. That means the trap's invisible."

"Figures," she muttered, eyes scanning the distant edges. "You think Garron's watching?"

"He hasn't stopped since the last floor."

Liza frowned. "Then why lead us here?"

"To test something." Arios walked toward the pedestal, each step measured. "He's not improvising anymore. He's gathering data."

"On us?"

"On me."

Arios stopped just short of the pedestal, eyeing the tablet. Strange runic lines spread across its surface, glowing in an erratic rhythm. It wasn't an artifact from the academy; its design predated modern magic entirely. He reached out, but before touching it, he spoke again. "When I touch this, something will change. Stay behind me."

Liza didn't argue. Her fingers tightened on her sword.

Arios placed his hand on the tablet.

The glow immediately flared, and the sky flickered. A voice—not the mechanical hum from before, but Garron's voice—filled the courtyard.

"Curiosity is admirable, but you should know when to stop."

The words were calm, measured. Not a direct communication, but a pre-recorded message. The air vibrated as symbols ignited on the ground, spreading outward in a circular pattern.

Liza stepped back. "Arios—"

"I know."

He withdrew his hand, but the circle was already complete. The space distorted—the columns stretching upward like threads, the tiles beneath their feet breaking apart and reforming. For a brief second, everything dissolved into white light.

When it faded, Arios stood alone.

The courtyard was gone.

He looked around—an empty hallway stretched infinitely in both directions, lined with wooden doors that had no handles. The air was cold, and the only sound was the faint ticking of something unseen.

He exhaled slowly. "A separation illusion."

Liza was gone. The connection to her mana signature had vanished completely.

He pressed his palm against the nearest wall—it was solid, but unnaturally smooth. The illusion was complex, built on layers of real mana woven through false sensory input. Whoever designed it knew exactly how to disorient a trained fighter.

He started walking.

Each door he passed flickered faintly, showing glimpses of moving shapes behind them—brief, half-formed images. One showed Lucy sparring against a shadowy opponent. Another showed Pokner studying alone in the dorm library, her expression unusually calm. He stopped at a third door and glanced closer.

This one showed Garron.

The instructor sat in what looked like an office, surrounded by projection orbs. His eyes were focused on something unseen, his hands moving over a panel of light. For a moment, Arios thought it was another illusion, but the mana signature felt real. The feed was live.

That meant the dungeon wasn't just simulating Garron's presence. It was linking directly to his operations.

Arios clenched his hand. "You're using this place like a remote network."

He placed his fingers on the door. It didn't open, but the image flickered, and a faint shock pulsed through his hand. The illusion pushed back, denying him entry. That alone told him what he needed to know—Garron wasn't just watching. He was controlling this floor directly.

He kept moving.

After what felt like several minutes, the hallway began to shift. The walls bent inward slightly, and the ticking grew louder. A faint breeze passed through, carrying a whisper too soft to make out.

Then a voice spoke—this time not from Garron.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Arios turned. A shadow detached itself from the wall. At first, it looked human. Then its features shifted—hair, posture, uniform—all rearranging until it looked exactly like him.

The replica smiled faintly.

"You're not supposed to exist."

Arios's grip tightened on his sword. "A mirror construct. Cheap trick."

"Maybe," the copy said. "But it's not my purpose to kill you."

"Then what's your purpose?"

"To see how you think."

The copy moved first, fast enough to blur. Their swords clashed, metal echoing across the empty hall. Every strike was mirrored perfectly—angle, timing, intent. The construct fought with his exact rhythm, down to the way he shifted weight mid-swing. There were no mistakes. Every counter was anticipated.

Arios pivoted back, analyzing. "Full memory pattern replication."

"You learn quickly," the copy said, smiling again.

"Too quickly for this to matter."

He shifted tactics. Instead of matching its tempo, he deliberately broke rhythm—half-steps, sudden feints, and mid-swing reversals that no ordinary fighter would use. The copy mirrored him at first but then faltered, misjudging one reversal. Arios drove the blade across its guard and kicked it back.

The copy stumbled, its face distorting.

"That deviation… shouldn't exist."

"That's what makes it human," Arios said evenly, and drove his sword through its chest.

The illusion shattered instantly—light scattering across the hall. The ticking stopped. The air settled again.

Arios exhaled quietly, lowering his weapon. "So that's your test, Garron."

He started walking again.

It didn't take long before the hallway opened into a new area—a wide chamber filled with floating orbs of dim light. They hovered in geometric formation, and beneath them lay a massive stone platform etched with hundreds of symbols. The pattern was incomplete, but recognizable: it was part of a large-scale summoning array.

He approached it slowly, eyes narrowing. "You're not experimenting on students. You're using them."

Each orb flickered, showing blurred images—faces, combat data, energy signatures. Arios realized what it was. Garron had been collecting behavioral readings from every student who entered the dungeon. Every battle, every reaction, every use of magic—all stored and processed through this network.

Liza, Lucy, Pokner—all their patterns would be recorded too.

And used.

The hum around him grew louder. Then, for the first time, Garron's real voice echoed clearly through the chamber—not from a recording, but through a live projection.

"Efficient deduction, Arios Pureheart."

Arios turned. The projection formed several meters away, Garron's image flickering but stable. The man looked calm, composed, almost amused.

"Using an exam as a research field," Arios said. "That's low, even for you."

"You misunderstand. I'm not experimenting on them. I'm trying to build something that will protect them."

Arios didn't answer.

"These students are unprepared for what's coming," Garron continued. "Do you think the academy's walls will hold forever? The last war nearly destroyed half the continent. I'm building a weapon that ensures that never happens again."

"A weapon that uses people."

"A tool built from observation. A system that understands how the human mind fights, fears, adapts. I need raw data. And your class is… unique."

Arios's expression didn't change. "You don't care about protecting anyone. You just want control."

"Control is protection. Without it, everything falls apart."

The projection stepped closer, the flickering light brushing Arios's face.

"You're a clever boy, Arios. You've seen what the world really is. So tell me—what's wrong with what I'm doing?"

"You're deciding for others," Arios said. "You're making choices that aren't yours to make."

"Someone has to."

"And it isn't you."

The silence stretched for a few seconds. Then Garron smiled faintly.

"You'll understand soon."

The projection vanished.

Immediately, the floor beneath Arios began to shake. The summoning array ignited, filling the chamber with light. The orbs flared—then dropped, one by one, into the glowing lines. Energy pulsed outward, forming a massive silhouette.

Arios didn't move. He watched as the light condensed into shape—a towering, armored construct easily twice his height, its body made of black stone and glowing red fissures. Its eyes flared to life.

He sighed quietly, adjusting his grip. "And here comes the second test."

The construct roared, a sound that shook the walls. Arios dashed forward to meet it.

The first strike collided like thunder—Arios's blade against a stone arm the size of a pillar. The impact sent cracks across the floor. Arios twisted away, using the recoil to slash across the creature's torso. Sparks flew, but the stone barely chipped.

He moved again, ducking under a sweeping punch that carved through the air. The sheer pressure cracked a nearby pillar. Arios rolled, came up, and slashed along the knee joint. A faint shimmer of blue mana bled through the wound. It wasn't flesh—it was a sealed core.

He focused on the movement, tracing the rhythm. Every time the creature struck, its chest exposed a narrow seam of unstable light.

"There," he muttered.

The next moment, the construct stomped down, sending a shockwave through the floor. Arios jumped, twisting midair and driving his sword into the chest seam. The blade dug halfway in before getting stuck. The construct grabbed him midair and threw him across the chamber.

Arios hit the ground hard, sliding several meters. His shoulder flared with pain, but he got up immediately. He pulled a short dagger from his belt—then threw it, not at the creature but at the floor beneath it. The blade embedded itself in one of the glowing runes.

The effect was instant. The rune sparked, the energy flow disrupting the array's rhythm. The creature froze mid-step, its motions faltering. Arios seized the chance—charging in, he leapt, grabbed his sword still lodged in its chest, and forced it deeper with a surge of mana. The construct cracked from the inside out.

With a shattering sound, it exploded in a burst of blue light.

When the light faded, the chamber was quiet again. Only the faint hum of mana remained.

Arios pulled his sword free, breathing slow but steady. His uniform was scorched at the shoulder, but otherwise intact. He looked up at the remaining orbs—they were dim now, lifeless.

He sheathed his weapon. "End of your data stream."

He walked toward the far side of the chamber. There, a small exit shimmered into view—another portal, faint but stable. He paused once before stepping through, glancing back at the ruined circle.

"I won't let you use them."

Then he stepped through the light.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.