Level -6: The Corridor of Witnesses

  After a rest that, for the first time in a long while, truly felt restorative, Sair — leader of Eden Camp — gathered the group around the fire. His voice, calm yet commanding, carried weight.

  That morning, he divided everyone into teams. Each group would be tasked with exploring a different level, documenting its anomalies, searching for signs of other factions… and, if luck was on their side, locating either the Blessed or the Cursed Relic tied to that level.

  The air was thick with a quiet tension — a blend of nerves and blind faith. For some, this mission represented a chance to elevate their spiritual vibration. For others, it was merely another step towards the next death.

  Dante, however, simply watched in silence. His mind, as always, was far removed from the general excitement. Technically, this would be his first exploration.

  He remembered what it meant to face an unknown level. He remembered the scars that couldn’t be seen.

  For a moment, he drifted into that memory…

  The campfire, the voices, the feeling of purpose earlier that morning when they were still in Level 0. Everything slowly faded until only the sound of his own ragged breathing remained.

  He shook his head. Came back to himself.

  Before him, three openings waited in the wall of a corridor in Level 1. Perfectly circular holes, just wide enough for a person to slide through. The darkness within them seemed to swallow the surrounding light.

  Slides.

  Dante recognised them instantly. They were three exits from Level 1.

  The central one led to Level 0 — the Lapis lazuli Forest. The one on the right, to Level Delta. And the one on the left… to Level -6. Their next stop.

  He drew a deep breath.

  He took a deep breath.

  — Time to head back to Level -6 — he murmured.

  Jhan straightened his shirt and looked at the dark openings with a tense smile.

  — And what if we don’t go back?

  — I suggest you don’t start with that pessimism — Vanina replied, with a nervous smile.

  As he watched his companions slide down, he cursed his luck. He hated Sair for forcing him to team up with three inexperienced people: Carlos, with the Fire rune; Vanina, with a Lesser Light rune; and Jhan, who had barely survived Level -1.

  All of them… were a huge risk in this place, but there was nothing he could do.

  Once out of the endless slide, Dante felt the momentum of the descent dissolve into a heavy silence.

  He walked slowly, his steps firm, his mind as dark as the surroundings. Memories of past regressions emerged gradually, creeping from the corners of his mind like shadows refusing to die.

  He remembered this level well: a corridor stretching for kilometres, branching into several others to confuse anyone who walked it. The hallways were flanked by a rocky, uneven, winding valley. There was no visible source of light, yet everything was bathed in a mysterious grey glow. The air reeked of dried blood, unsettling anyone who inhaled it.

  An ominous calm covered everything. Only his footsteps broke the stillness.

  The natural walls beside the path seemed made of living rock, with strange shapes, sharp as rusted blades. Dry, stubby bushes covered in poisonous thorns lined the edges of the path.

  A notification appeared before his eyes, floating in the air, describing the level. It made him stop dead.

  [Level -6: Axis -X. Class 2 — Survival Difficulty: Unstable]

  These levels have fragile stability. They may seem safe but are subject to abrupt changes caused by human presence.

  The environment can become hostile without warning.

  Aggressive entities. Exit routes exist but may not remain in the same place or may temporarily disappear.

  Level -6

  Just reading that made him tense.

  He remembered clearly what came next.

  The path seemed peaceful, but after a few steps, something changed. It wasn’t a sound or a vibration… it was the feeling that the surroundings had begun to watch them.

  From the cracks in the valley, figures began to emerge. First a few. Then dozens.

  Nightmares.

  That’s what entities in Nullaria were called.

  These Nightmares were known as the Witnesses.

  They were tall, thin figures, with long nails instead of fingers, completely nude and dark grey. Faceless. Silhouetted against the unmoving mist. First a few. Then dozens. Then hundreds. They peered over the jagged rocks and poisonous bushes, observing with curious fascination. They didn’t move like predators. They moved like scientists studying an anomaly.

  Although they were frightened, Carlos and Vanina had already encountered Nightmares in other levels during past missions, so meeting them was not a surprise. But Jhan… Jhan was terrified, hiding behind me. Honestly, I understood. I had reacted the same way the first time I reached this place… and we had all been horrifically slaughtered on that mission.

  Carlos was arguably the most experienced among us, though to my eyes, they were all novices. Unfortunately, nothing had changed in this regression: I had once again ended up paired with these useless people.

  — With this darkness, it will be impossible to find the right path or any of the relics… — Carlos murmured, trying not to look directly at the Witnesses, who were drawing closer.

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  He raised his hand, activating his rune, attempting to produce a small flame at his fingertips. The Fire rune tattooed on his skin glowed faintly, as if awakening.

  Before the spark could grow, I stopped him by placing my hand on his arm, looking at him sharply. I said nothing. I just stared.

  Carlos understood and brushed my hand away irritably.

  This level did not tolerate disturbances. Fire was a provocation.

  And the environment… a sleeping beast.

  We walked in silence.

  The Witnesses followed at a distance, multiplying with every step. The faceless silhouettes moved in sync with the group, always observing from afar.

  — Dante — Jhan said, calmer now, breaking the silence with a whisper —. Can I ask you something?

  — Go on.

  — Have you been here before? You seem to know exactly how to move.

  Carlos replied sarcastically for me, stating it was my first time in a mission… that I was just pretending not to be afraid and, apparently, was very good at it.

  I didn’t answer.

  — Guys… do you know how many levels it takes to reach heightened soul perception and escape this world? — Jhan asked, lowering his voice —. You see… I have a teenage daughter. She must be worried. I need to get back to Earth as soon as possible…

  The group fell silent. That story wasn’t new.

  I wasn’t going to respond.

  I looked ahead, towards the horizon shrouded in unmoving mist.

  And then the words came out on their own:

  —You don’t know until you achieve it —I finally said—. It’s not something you can see on your retina. You just… feel it deep inside. Something changes. And you’re no longer the same.

  Carlos looked at me, puzzled; I didn’t speak like someone on their first mission. Vanina noticed it too.

  — That’s what many say… — I added quickly.

  Carlos, impatient, moved ahead, trying to show leadership. The mission given by Eden was clear: search for relics and document all traces of anomalous activity.

  In theory, each level had one Blessed Relic… and one Cursed Relic. And he was determined to find one.

  Vanina commented, as we walked, that we should also watch for anything that might serve as an exit. Exits could take many forms: a painting, a hole, a puddle. That’s how this world worked.

  Sometimes they were hidden. If you found a stone covered in electric-blue moss or a painting of the Lapis Lazuli Forest, it probably hid an entrance to Level 0.

  Jhan was surprised by that information.

  Vanina continued, in a softer voice:

  — There’s another method… more uncertain. More dangerous. And more random.

  Vazmentia.

  — Vazmentia? — Jhan asked, confused —.

  A mental state in which the mind went blank and the body was absorbed by the void. You simply… disconnected from reality. Lost consciousness. And awoke on another level, at random.

  Some claimed certain objects or actions could trigger it. Dante knew this well, but would only use it in life-or-death situations. No one could guarantee where you would end up. You could fall into an illogical level, or one of the impossible levels dominated by the Seven Terrors. Ancient, deformed entities, not even Eden fully understood them.

  And you wouldn’t want to meet one of them.

  They walked patiently for over an hour until Dante stopped.

  Something shone among the rocks: a weak, reddish glow, pulsing. It throbbed like a buried heart.

  Carlos noticed it too.

  Without waiting for instructions, he veered off the path with a confident smile, seeking the glory of being the one to find the level’s relic.

  — Careful! — Vanina warned urgently.

  Carlos brushed against one of the bushes. A short scream cut the silence.

  A thin line of blood ran down his forearm. Vanina rushed to him and activated her Lesser Light rune. The wound closed, but his face turned pale.

  — These thorns carry pure venom — she said gravely —. If I hadn’t noticed, you’d already be dead.

  — Just a scratch — he replied arrogantly, not even looking at her.

  He ignored the warning and kept moving through the bushes, under the unwavering gaze of the Witnesses. The creatures watched him expectantly, as if awaiting the outcome.

  He reached the source of the glow: a wooden box, wrapped in a reddish aura, carved with unknown symbols.

  Carlos reached out and touched it carelessly.

  The air trembled.

  The red aura rose in a spiral, enveloping him like a whirlwind.

  — Don’t touch it! — Vanina shouted.

  Too late.

  The curse was triggered.

  Carlos screamed. His body arched backward as darkness clung to his skin, crawling like living leprosy. His flesh blackened on contact, emitting thick, foul smoke.

  In a desperate act, he activated his Fire rune. His body ignited, trying to counter the Cursed Relic, but only feeding the chaos.

  He screamed so loud that the Witnesses began to move.

  First a few. Then all.

  The valley shook.

  The calm broke.

  And hell, finally, awoke.

  In a desperate act, Jhan activated his Strength rune and tried to help Carlos, attacking the approaching Witnesses brutally. But they responded in a pack, ravenous. The hunt had begun.

  Dante stepped back, staying on the path. He knew this would happen. He couldn’t intervene. This was how it had to unfold.

  Amidst the chaos, a dark sphere rolled from the cursed box.

  Dante saw it despite the gloom. The sphere glimmered as if an entire galaxy pulsed inside it. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and put it in his pocket.

  Vanina, horrified, screamed and ran along the path as the Witnesses lunged at Jhan. Dante followed, keeping his distance. He already had what he needed.

  They ran along the path as the Witnesses emerged from every side. After a few minutes, breathless, they saw a small, still lake in the middle of the valley. Dante felt a momentary relief: the lake was still there, intact despite the level’s constant changes. He remembered that in previous regressions, this had been the exit.

  — There’s the exit! — Dante exclaimed.

  — How do you know? — Vanina panted.

  — You told me yourself — he replied quickly. — Jump!

  She hesitated only a moment before plunging into the water, confirming it was indeed an exit.

  Dante didn’t follow immediately. Something glowed softly, almost sacred, near the lake among the poisonous bushes: an ancient rosary, caught in purple thorns.

  The Zvezdara Rosary, the Blessed Relic of Level -6. Dante smiled at the sight.

  It rested on the neck of a skeleton. Only bones and remnants of hair remained. Nothing more.

  It had always seemed strange to him: only souls reached this limbo, not physical bodies. He had never solved the mystery in any of his regressions. People only called it The Saint.

  She was the only being whose body hadn’t turned into a Nightmare or become part of the level’s scenery. Perhaps due to her purity. Perhaps her nature. Perhaps for reasons no one understood. But there she was, alone and forgotten. And honestly, it didn’t matter at that moment.

  Without hesitation, Dante lunged for the relic. The thorns rose like teeth, as if aware someone came to desecrate something sacred. He could feel it: the danger was real. A mere touch could let the poison do its work.

  He could leave it. He could jump into the lake and survive.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  Thanks to his regressions, he knew certain objects were essential for survival. This was one of them.

  He took a deep breath.

  He reached out.

  The thorns tore his skin. Blood ran like hot rivers. But he didn’t stop. He felt the poison start to spread up his arm, like molten embers.

  He grabbed the rosary. The skeleton’s bones trembled slightly, as if a final sigh escaped them.

  Dante staggered back, his arm burning. His vision blurred. With the rosary in hand, he turned to the lake… it was close, just a few steps away.

  Then he felt it.

  The slash hit him.

  A brutal, solid strike. A fast, violent scratch tore down his back. Blood exploded like hot ink. The scream he let out was not human.

  The Witnesses began to surround him.

  He saw silhouettes. Too many. Far too many. His vision blurred further and further.

  Despite the unbearable pain, he ran as best he could, with the last of his strength, and plunged into the small lake.

  Silence. Everything stilled.

  The Witnesses stopped at the edge of the lake.

  They stayed at the shore.

  Watching. Unmoving.

  One by one, they began to retreat slowly, retracting their long nails. Without looking away from the lake.

  Some vanished among the rocks. Others slipped silently into the poisonous bushes, hiding again along the path. Waiting.

  Far away, among the jagged rocks, Carlos’s blackened, poisoned body began to move, convulsing like spasms.

  His fingers rose.

  The skin peeled like rotted bark.

  Carlos stood up.

  Jhan, not far off, crawled out of his own pool of blood. His body was a map of wounds. His skin… torn with hundreds of scratches.

  He rose, staggering. Emotionless; memories of his teenage daughter faded, and no trace of humanity remained.

  Gradually, their bodies began to change. They stretched, refined, losing human features. Their nails grew into claws. Their faces became vacant. Expressionless.

  When the process ended, no trace remained of who they had been. They were no longer themselves. Now… they were part of this world.

  Two new Witnesses positioned themselves slowly among the shadows. They focused on the level’s access point.

  Now they watch.

  Unmoving.

  Silent.

  Waiting for the next fools daring enough to challenge Level -6.

  End of Chapter Three.

  Level -6.

  the Witnesses make that clear at every turn.

  Or was this all part of a larger plan of Dante’s, something only he could foresee?

  — Alberto Báez