Nivel “ ? ”: Valour

  Alan understood everything within the second step.

  This was no ordinary level. It wasn’t a glitch in the code of existence, nor a failure in the system. It was a sentence.

  The bluish mist clung to him with a terrifying familiarity, crawling around him like a predator on the prowl. It was thick, freezing, and felt strangely alive against his skin. Every step he took on the rocky ground thudded with a dull echo. An oppressive silence devoured everything.

  But he was not alone.

  Countless murmurs began to seep through the fog. At first, they were nothing more than distant echoes, muffled as if rising from the depths of a dark ocean. But with every erratic beat of Alan’s heart, with every pang of fear, the murmurs became sharper, more cruel. Fear was feasting on his perception, leaving him exposed.

  — There is no way out for you…

  — Just give up already…

  — You are not like them…

  — Do you really wish to suffer as we suffered?

  — You? Survive an Inferno level? Do you truly believe someone so insignificant stands a chance?

  The voices sprouted from the mist, from the icy vapour emanating from the stones, and from the very air he struggled to breathe. Deformed silhouettes crossed his vision for a mere second, wandering shadows moving as if the world were exhaling trapped souls. Faces torn apart by grief and time blurred into the air, dragging with them words of defeat, madness, and absolute resignation.

  Alan backed away, his breath coming in short gasps and his eyes wide. But suddenly, the terror was displaced by a jolt of relief.

  — Commander Nastacia?

  She was lying on the ground, unconscious among the rocks. Alan ran to her, falling to his knees and shaking her by the shoulders with desperate urgency.

  — Hey! Wake up! Come on, please…!

  Her eyes snapped open. She looked at him, lost, as if emerging from an eternal nightmare, and her gaze immediately fixed on a blind spot behind the boy.

  — It is going to appear… right there — she whispered.

  Alan frowned, turning toward the void she was pointing at.

  — Where? I don’t see anything…

  — Just because you cannot see it — Nastacia said, her voice cracking as she struggled to stand — does not mean it isn't there. You should know that by now.

  Then, the mist began to swirl violently.

  It was as if an invisible vacuum were sucking the fog toward a specific point, creating a vortex that howled without sound. Beyond that whirlpool, other figures began to emerge. People. Hundreds, perhaps thousands. All of them confused, trembling, searching for a shred of reality in the middle of nowhere.

  And that was when the sky shattered.

  Bolts of blue light, pure and brilliant as cut sapphires, descended from every direction. They did not fall like ordinary lightning; they meandered. They spiralled with a slowness that defied sanity, coiling upon themselves like serpents of energy that ignored every physical law.

  At the epicentre of that storm, the bolts braided together until they formed a humanoid figure. A hooded silhouette, draped in a long robe of that same vibrant, electric blue. There was no face beneath the hood. It carried no weapons. It made no move to stir. It simply observed.

  Out of nowhere, a layer of crystal-clear, pure water materialised on the ground, accumulating rapidly. It advanced with a liquid murmur, rising until it covered the ankles of everyone present.

  — Welcome to my world — its voice said, resonating directly within their minds.

  The murmurs from the mist erupted like a stampede of laments.

  — I am Valour. The Fifth Terror of Nullaria.

  This entity held the fifth place in the hierarchy of the Seven Terrors of Nullaria. Some screamed until their throats tore. Others fell to their knees, with their spirits broken. Many simply wept in silence. The tension of the impossible was destroying them one by one as they realised they had been dragged into the judgement of a Terror.

  Valour turned its faceless head toward the crowd.

  — Before we begin… I shall establish some rules. Number one: Silence.

  — True bravery… does not listen to ovations. Nor explanations. Nor answers. Nor noise. It simply acts. Make sure you understand that.

  And with an imperceptible snap of its raised hand… the world went mute.

  The screams continued, but they had no echo. Mouths remained open in gestures of agony. Some still sobbed. But nothing could be heard. Everyone had lost their sense of hearing, as if the very concept of sound had been severed from existence. As if the entire universe had suddenly turned deaf.

  One by one, they realised with horror that it wasn't they who had been silenced… but reality itself. The trial was about to begin.

  — Many of you believe that courage is a cry — the Terror’s voice vibrated in their skulls once more, ignoring the imposed deafness —. You believe it is the roar before the charge, the sacrifice that seeks the applause of the heavens, or the sword raised in the name of a justice you yourselves invented just so you would not feel like monsters.

  The entity tilted its head to the side in front of a soldier who was trembling uncontrollably. The man, in an act of impulsive desperation, aimed his rifle and began to fire. The bullets simply vanished into thin air before reaching the blue figure.

  — Error — Valour decreed.

  Without warning, the water beneath the soldier’s feet began to suck him down. Like quicksand; it was a slow and agonising immersion that seemed to grind his body as it dragged him toward the depths. The man tried to fight, but his movements were clumsy, distorted by the drop in his own vibration in the face of fear. His companions watched in horror as he sank inches away from them, but no one could hear his bones snapping under the pressure of the water which, suddenly, had become as solid as granite.

  The Terror did not flinch. It extended its arms as it continued to speak, and the soldier disappeared completely beneath the surface.

  — Pure courage is not dying for a cause — it continued —. That is merely the desire to be remembered. Nor is pure courage the absence of fear; that is merely stupidity. I seek the spark that is born when nothing else remains. No honour, no hope, no witnesses.

  From among the thousands gathered, Dante listened to those words intently.

  — It has already begun — he whispered, a shiver running down his spine.

  In this regression, Valour had appeared sooner than anticipated… but so far, the pattern of its speech remained the same. Everything was aligning, for the moment.

  Kar’Nix emerged from Dante’s body; a black sphere with his eyes and beak floating restlessly beside him.

  — Can you truly hear nothing? — he asked mentally, projecting his voice directly into Dante’s consciousness.

  Dante nodded with a slight, almost imperceptible gesture. Kar’Nix turned his floating eyes toward the blue figure with a mixture of dread and curiosity.

  — So that… is the Fifth Terror — he murmured, completely losing his usual sarcastic tone.

  — Can you enter its mind? — Dante asked mentally.

  Kar’Nix looked at him for a second. His spherical form trembled violently.

  — No. That energy… it is monstrous. I cannot, nor do I wish to try. It would crush me without even a glance.

  Dante already knew this, but he needed his companion’s confirmation. Valour raised its hand again, and its voice rumbled once more in the minds of those present.

  — Rule number two — it said —. Now that you have lost the ability to hear, you are left only with your instinct for existence. And frankly, I find it tedious and pointless to judge each of you separately. It is not worth the effort. Experience has proven this to me.

  — Therefore, I have decided that your fate shall be a shared thread. I will form groups of ten people each. To avoid unnecessary chance, I have joined those whose threads of fate were already intertwined before arriving here; those summonses who, regardless of which corner of Nullaria they found themselves in, shared a single purpose or a final breath of desperation. You shall remain together throughout this trial.

  Dante looked around desperately. He tried to find Alan or any of his friends among the sea of thousands of unknown faces; he knew they were there, lost somewhere in that bluish mist, but the chaos and distance hid them. According to the knowledge from his past life, at least Alan, Bealuna, Virellian, and Harold should be present, but in this new collective scenario, he had no certainty as to who would complete his group of ten. He could imagine four of them, but who would the other five be? He had no way of knowing. The threads of fate, or perhaps the twisted and capricious will of the Terror, had already decided who would be the links in his shared chain.

  — Listen well — the voice continued in their minds —. Each group has ten opportunities to demonstrate pure courage. If one of you fails the test, you will not die immediately. You will be frozen in time, suspended, awaiting the outcome of your group. If all ten fail, all ten shall be erased from existence forever. No trace of your souls will remain, neither in Nullaria nor on Earth.

  Valour paused to let the weight of total annihilation settle in their chests.

  — However… if only one of you manages to surprise me; if only one of the ten is capable of demonstrating an act of pure courage, then that individual shall not only save their group — including those already frozen in time — but that feat will be so powerful that it will liberate every other survivor still alive in this trial at that precise instant. The judgement will end for everyone. I promise you this.

  Dante clenched his fists, meditating on Valour's insane wager. The reality was brutal: if he failed, his existence would depend on the other nine members; if only one of them succeeded, they would save even hundreds of strangers. It was a burden of teamwork that arrogant leaders like Ryan or Volkov would never be willing to carry. The question that gnawed at him as he scanned the crowd was who those other five missing links were, those with whom the Terror's will had decided to chain his fate.

  The entity paused, letting the promise of freedom float like cruel bait over the silent crowd.

  — If none succeed, absolutely everyone shall die here. Rule number three: If you are in this place, it is because I saw something in you that caught my attention. A heroic act. Something that moved me to choose you. But I must be honest: I am sick of those who act with "courage" in the name of noble causes.

  — I have seen those causes corrupted time and again: martyrs who only wish to be worshipped; heroes who hide their egos behind words like “justice”, “duty”, or “love”. If I had to define an act of pure courage, I would say this: the truly brave do not seek redemption or meaning. They are those who, though everything they loved was destroyed, choose to keep living. Those who, even broken and alone, have the will to press on to build something new.

  These words hit Dante’s mind like a new variable. It wasn’t just the shift to the collective format that disconcerted him, but that specific definition of courage he had not heard in his previous life. In his past regression, his trial had been an individual test, but now the entity seemed to despise any trace of conventional heroism.

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  Dante didn’t know if he wanted to live for love, for revenge, or for redemption. He only knew that he no longer wanted to die. That even if he returned to Earth alone and misunderstood, with his soul in pieces, his story could not end in the mud of Nullaria. He wanted to exist for the simple sake of it, without applause or certainties. That spark born from the mud, and not from the fire, was his only card.

  — That is all — Valour concluded —. Good luck. It all depends on you now. Do not disappoint me.

  And with those words, the blue silhouette vanished in a blink, leaving behind air heavy with the scent of ozone.

  Those thousand souls looked at one another, submerged to their ankles in the waters that were now crystal clear once again. Beneath the stormy sky, voices full of uncertainty began to sprout, desperate.

  — And what are we supposed to do now?

  — I didn't understand anything… Nothing!

  — Pure Courage? How the hell are we supposed to do that?

  — Get me out of here! I don't want to die!

  Sensing something approaching through the mist, Kar’Nix quickly merged back into Dante’s body.

  It was then that reality shattered. Without warning, the physical plane seemed to rotate on its own axis in a violent three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. The water that reached their ankles suddenly became a devouring void, and everyone was sucked into the depths of a dark blue ocean.

  Alan surfaced abruptly, gasping for air. As if emerging from the depths of an abyss, his hands struck something solid just when he thought he had run out of breath. As he sat up and climbed out of the water, bewilderment left him paralysed: there was no longer an ocean, but a floor of white ceramics, shimmering and of a piercing cleanliness. He stood up, watching his wet, trembling hands for a moment.

  Then, he took a few staggering steps, observing a winding corridor around him covered in small, perfect white tiles. The entire place vibrated with the coldness of a monumental building, yet it was devoid of life. At the far end, a vibrant glow bathed the walls; Alan walked toward that end of the hall, drawn by the light and the scent of the sea breeze.

  Upon reaching the edge, he found himself on a circular balcony, without railings or protection. What he saw left him stunned, making him recoil for fear of slipping and falling into the void. A few metres away, Virellian was already there, observing the landscape before his eyes. Both stood stunned at the magnitude of the impossible.

  Before them lay an immense mass of water, of a deep and serene blue that vanished into the horizon. From its waters sprouted hundreds, thousands of identical white towers. They were cylindrical structures of colossal proportions, surrounded at every level by circular ledges and dark doors that revealed nothing of their interior. Thousands of floors stacked upwards and downwards, losing themselves both in the firmament and in the depth of that ocean.

  But most unsettling of all were the colossal presences inhabiting the water. Gigantic marble statues in the Hellenic style, possessed of a disturbing, classical beauty, lay partially submerged. Some rested on their sides while others were half-sunk, observing the void with a terrifying stillness.

  The sky was a vault of uniform white light, studded with endless rows of luminous panels that stood in place of the sun, bathing the entire level in an eternal, shadowless clarity.

  Alan tried to shout Virellian’s name, but the air left his lungs without emitting the slightest vibration. Virellian, with his face pale, shook his head and pointed to his ears with a bitter gesture, reminding him that they had lost their sense of hearing.

  Virellian made an urgent sign for Alan to turn the other way. Amidst the tiles and the white radiance, another soaked face appeared near them: Commander Volkov.

  Valour's Dimension

  Alan looked at him with a mixture of joy and relief; seeing someone of his strength on the team restored a glimmer of hope. However, the Commander rubbed his eyes with a look of profound annoyance upon realising his fate had been bound to that of Alan and Virellian. After a huff of frustration that no one could hear, Volkov ignored them entirely and turned his attention to the impossible landscape surrounding them. A moment later, Stefan appeared behind him; his face, dripping wet, lit up with joy as he recognised his friends.

  At another point in that dreamlike stage, Harold rested upon the palm of a giant, living ivory hand emerging from the ocean. He was wounded and weakened following his battle against Lilith, where the excessive use of his rune of Gravity had left him at death's door. Now, he could barely catch his breath after swimming for what felt like several minutes.

  Suddenly, Bealuna emerged from the depths, taking a desperate gulp of air. Her eyes met Harold’s, who smiled at her with genuine relief. "I am so glad to find you," his expression seemed to say. She swam toward the statue's hand, processing the magnitude of what was happening with bewilderment.

  — He said there would be ten of us — Harold reflected inwardly, recalling the words of Valour —. I suppose we must find each other first...

  But a desperate splashing interrupted his thoughts. Someone was struggling to stay afloat, thrashing at the water with clumsiness and rage. Bealuna recognised him instantly, and her expression darkened.

  — Oh, no... — she said bitterly.

  Bealuna watched him with eyes full of contempt. She remembered reading that the trial of the Fifth Terror was purely individual, but the rules had changed. It was now a collective judgement, and worst of all, her life was tied to that loathsome: Leader Ryan.

  — Can anyone help me?! I don't know how to swim in deep water! — Ryan was shouting, but his words died in an absolute vacuum. No one could hear him.

  Bealuna remained with her arms crossed and a look of disgust, deliberately ignoring him. Harold, not understanding why she refused to help, decided to act on his own. He leaned down and, with an effort that made his wounds bleed, helped Ryan climb onto the statue's hand.

  Bealuna erupted in shouts: — Don't you dare think for a second that I’m going to help you after how much of an idiot you were to us! You’re not so brave without your retinue of snakes, are you?!

  But it was in vain. Neither of them could hear her. They only saw her gesturing furiously, as if possessed, until they remembered that their sense of hearing had been snatched away.

  Ryan, now safe upon the marble hand and panting from the exertion, muttered to himself: — Just my luck... having to team up with this bitch.

  Bealuna took a step forward, her face contorted with rage: — What did you just call me?! — she roared, incensed.

  Ryan jumped, backing away with wide eyes. — Can you... can you hear me? — he asked, doubting his own sanity. — Of course I can hear you, you moron! I’m not deaf! — she exclaimed, nodding her head to emphasise her words.

  But suddenly, Bealuna froze. She touched both ears with her hands, unable to believe what was happening. Looking down at her right arm, she noticed the rune of Good Fortune glowing with a feverish intensity. She understood it in that instant: thanks to her rune, for some mystical reason, the power of the Fifth Terror had failed to silence her world.

  Not far away, in a nearby tower, Dante stood on a circular balcony alongside Commander Nastacia and Luke, one of Leader Ryan’s lackeys. Both were waving their hands frantically, trying to catch the attention of the others, but the vastness of the landscape and the absolute silence made their efforts seem invisible. Dante paused to think for a second. If anyone had a chance, however slim, of having avoided the mystical deafness of this level, it was Bealuna.

  He decided to risk everything on a single exclamation.

  — BEALUNA! — he shouted with all his might, though to his own ears it was but a mute breath.

  She turned her head immediately, surprised. She had located him. A smile of pure relief lit up her face upon seeing him. Dante began to make urgent signs for them to head toward his position, but Bealuna, noticing Harold’s battered and bloodied body, shouted back:

  — I DON’T THINK HAROLD CAN SWIM THAT DISTANCE!

  Dante could not hear her, but in that moment, Kar’Nix emerged from his chest. The raven unfurled his wings with renewed energy and his voice resonated vibrantly in Dante’s mind, repeating word for word what Bealuna had just shouted. Dante looked at him with a spark of triumph in his eyes. This was the exact reason he had to bring Kar’Nix to the trial of Valour: in his past life, the raven was meant to serve as a mental bridge to help Bealuna survive her individual test.

  However, even though the rules had mutated into a group trial, Kar’Nix’s value had not diminished. On the contrary, he was now the only thread that could unite a team condemned to silence.

  Suddenly, several inflatable life rings in the shape of pink pelicans appeared out of nowhere, floating gently upon the water in front of the statue’s hand. Bealuna looked at them with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

  — What a stroke of luck… — she murmured to herself, with a smile playing on her lips.

  With this unexpected resource, the three of them could finally navigate toward the tower where the others were waiting. From above, Dante watched the group’s progress and spoke mentally to his companion:

  — Kar’Nix, find the others who are missing. There are ten of us in total, and they won’t be far. I am certain Alan, Virellian, and the rest are somewhere in this place.

  The raven nodded with a slight mental caw and took flight instantly, his senses sharpened to the limit in search of the members needed to complete the chain of survival.

  — We have to find them! They must be close! — Stefan shouted desperately, spinning in circles while looking at the other three —. We must move!

  But no one answered. They only watched him with a mixture of pity and frustration. Everyone had lost their sense of hearing; in this world of tiles and silence, shouting was a futile effort.

  Commander Volkov stood firm, scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes, alert to every reflection on the water and every shadow between the towers. He was looking for a sign, an anomaly, anything. Beside him, Virellian inspected the edges of the building with a stern expression, searching for any trace or mechanism that might help them communicate.

  Alan, meanwhile, leaned against one of the pristine walls, lost in thought. His gaze accidentally fell upon his own wrist, and then a flash of memory struck him: the watch. It was the standard device they had all received from the SIEN base, linked to the small camera integrated into their uniforms.

  — Perhaps… — he murmured, pressing a side button with trembling fingers.

  He spoke directly into the watch's microphone. After a few seconds, Commander Volkov’s device emitted a flash, and his retina glowed briefly. A message was projected directly into his field of vision. Volkov frowned, surprised, as he read the words Alan had just transmitted:

  "Commander, the trial will not begin until all ten of us are here. Let’s start moving."

  The Commander arched an eyebrow and slowly turned his head toward Alan. He observed him with a mixture of scepticism and a spark of genuine recognition.

  — Not as much of an idiot as I thought — he muttered to himself, with an almost imperceptible nod of respect.

  Alan noticed the look, and although he could not hear the words, the Commander’s expression was enough to make him smile with pride. Immediately after, he spoke into the watch again:

  — To everyone with this device: use the visual messaging function. We have lost our hearing, but not our sight. We can still coordinate.

  Meanwhile, in the tower where Dante stood, Bealuna watched Ryan with an evident look of reproach as he allowed a cheerful and subservient Luke to help him finally scramble onto the balcony. The tension between them was palpable, but the silence kept it contained.

  Dante, ignoring the bickering, approached Harold and offered him one of the Lunar Fruits he kept in his Dimensional Storage. The young man recognised the purple glow of the fruit immediately and took it without hesitation; he knew that, in a matter of minutes, his most grievous wounds would be completely healed thanks to its regenerative power.

  Then, a slight notification flash interrupted everyone’s mental stillness. Although no one could hear the sound, Alan’s messages began to project, one by one, onto the retinas of all present.

  Commander Nastacia read the message intently. Her lips curled slightly in a gesture of approval.

  — Well… I’m quite speechless — she murmured to herself, with a smile that could not hide her genuine surprise. She did not recall any soldier ever using that technical function of the watch before.

  One by one, the members of the group looked at each other. Despite the distance between the towers and the deafness that isolated them, they nodded and shared small smiles of determination. Communication had been restored thanks to the SIEN base watches. Now, finally, they were a connected team.

  Soaring above the infinite tiled towers, Kar’Nix spread his black wings in an elegant and imposing flight. It did not take long to locate Alan and his group, positioned a mere four towers away from Dante’s. On that balcony, Dante closed his eyes and, through his bond with the raven, his vision merged with that of the creature. He saw Alan, Stefan, Virellian, and Commander Volkov… they were all unharmed.

  In that moment, the Celestial Ring of the Fifth Virtue on his finger began to pulse with a subtle radiance, as if awakening to the imminence of a tactical battle. A shiver ran down Dante’s arm as he felt his mind expand: routes drew themselves in his consciousness and the pieces of the board began to click into place. Strategy. Anticipation. The trial of Valour would require much more than brute force.

  He took his watch and, with a firm voice, transmitted: — Alan, you are close. Head toward our position; only you four are left to complete the ten. Kar’Nix will guide you from the air.

  Upon receiving the message on his retina, Alan looked up and spotted the raven circling above them. — Perfect — he said with relief.

  But Commander Volkov did not share his enthusiasm. He observed Kar’Nix with a mixture of contempt and caution, keeping his arms crossed over his massive chest. Instead of speaking, the Commander looked down at his watch, and Alan felt the vibration of a new message on his retina:

  "We should not follow that thing. I do not trust a creature that toyed with the minds of our soldiers."

  Alan frowned and, after a reproachful look at the Commander, typed quickly on his wrist to reply on Volkov’s display:

  “Do you not trust Dante, then?”

  Volkov did not respond immediately. He held Alan’s gaze hard before a final message appeared in the group’s field of vision:

  "Perhaps that young man defeated two Terrors, but that does not mean he truly controls that ancestral entity."

  Stefan looked down, unsure due to the commander’s authority, and replied:

  “Maybe… maybe the commander is right.”

  “Are you serious? Are we really going to doubt the only thing that’s working right now?” — Alan exclaimed in disbelief.

  Virellian wasted no time in arguments. Without a word, he stepped to the edge of the balcony, took a deep breath, and performed a perfect dive into the waters. The silent impact caught everyone’s attention. Once in the ocean, he began to swim with firm strokes in the direction the raven indicated. Alan smiled defiantly, ignored Volkov’s glare, and jumped in after him.

  The Commander gritted his teeth, defeated by reality. The decision was made. And then, like a gelid echo piercing their skulls, Kar’Nix’s voice resonated in their minds:

  “Would you care to hurry up? We are wasting valuable time.”

  Seconds after Volkov and Stefan dived into the water, Kar’Nix turned sharply in the air. Something had caught his attention. From the shadows of the deep waters, a colossal silhouette glided beneath the surface.

  It was a white serpent of titanic proportions, whose pale, scaly skin shimmered under the artificial light of the sky. Its undulating body was so vast that it coiled around the bases of the towers like a column of living marble, moving with absolute and lethal silence. The creature swam directly beneath the group members moving through the water, an ancient and predatory presence lurking in that paradise of tiles.

  Dante watched the scene through the eyes of the raven and felt a knot in his throat. The team was finally united, but now they were at the mercy of a threat that appeared in none of his memories. The trial of the Fifth Terror had not just begun; it had just taken a monstrous and completely unexpected form.

  A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck as he watched Alan and the others swim over that colossal shadow. In his past lives, the rules were different, and this deviation from reality filled him with a deep dread. It wasn't just for the affection he held for them; he knew that if those four were slaughtered in the depths, they would lose four vital opportunities in a single blow. With every life extinguished, the margin to secure his own existence would shrink until it became non-existent. In that moment, he could only close his eyes and pray that fate would not snatch away his only cards before the true trial even began.

  End of Chapter Twenty-Three.

  courage is no longer loud or heroic; it is quiet, shared, and heavy.

  courage can truly exist without any noise.

  Nullaria, even the smallest decision can change everything.

  Your thoughts are always welcome: do you believe the entire group can stay alive until the end of the trial?

  — Alberto Báez