Level 1002: The Cloud Kingdom: Palace of Kar’Nix.

  High above the Cloud Kingdom, every hourglass across the floating isles began to turn in unison, one by one.

  One. Two. Hundreds. Thousands.

  As if an unseen will had issued a single command, the hovering crystals rotated mid-air, spilling their contents with a whisper of wind and a metallic echo that shook the very foundations of Level 1002.

  And suddenly… dawn broke.

  A golden beam washed over the floating isles, dissolving the Smilers who guarded the bridges between them — as though they had never existed. Only silence remained, broken by the sound of hurried footsteps.

  Horacio and Jonathan arrived on the next isle, panting and covered in sweat and dust. Before them stood the entrance to the palace of Kar’Nix: an immense structure shaped like a five-storey sea shell, built from pearly grey stone and adorned with colossal windows. Its curves spiralled upward, as if the entire building were slowly rotating upon itself.

  — What… is this place? — murmured Jonathan, his mouth slightly agape.

  — No idea — replied Horacio, wiping his brow —, but if something’s inside… we’re going to find it. Or hunt it. I think Virellian came in here last night.

  The enormous white doors were opened by an invisible force.

  A deep creak echoed back, revealing an endless corridor of white marble, lined with stained glass that seemed to move ever so slightly, casting dancing lights upon the walls. Curved columns rose like twisted branches, and statues of impossible creatures stood watch along the passage.

  The interior was unsettling — it did not seem nearly as vast from the outside, yet within… space stretched into infinity. Shadows swayed as they walked, eerie and alive, as though the building itself were breathing. The place was so immense, so commanding, it made them feel small — insignificant even.

  Then, a dry, guttural sound pulled them from their trance.

  From above, perched upon a twisted ledge, a colossal raven watched them — its eyes glowing like burning coals.

  — What’s that chicken doing up there? — snorted Horacio, pointing mockingly —. I’m starving. We could hunt it and eat it. With this heat, it must taste like smoked chicken. Looks rather plump too.

  Jonathan let out a nervous chuckle but didn’t look away. Something about the raven unsettled him, though he couldn’t explain why.

  — Dante Montenegro? — said the raven, its voice rough, edged like blades —. Is that you?

  — What?! Me?! That idiot?! No, thank you — cried Horacio indignantly, crossing his arms.

  Jonathan squinted, baffled, as the raven spoke.

  — The chicken… spoke.

  — Insolent fools! — roared Kar’Nix from above, spreading his vast wings —. I am no chicken! I am one of the Three Great Mystical Beasts of Nullaria!

  A psychic screech tore through the air — invisible yet devastating.

  Both clutched their heads, staggering, as if their thoughts were being ripped out with burning tongs.

  Jonathan fell to his knees, his face contorted, feeling the air bend like glass about to shatter.

  — Mystical… Beasts? — he muttered through clenched teeth.

  — HAND OVER THE DIVINE STONES, DANTE MONTENEGRO! — bellowed Kar’Nix, his eyes blazing blood-red as his wings unfurled, emanating an aura so dense the air itself quivered with power.

  — I already told you I’m not that idiot! — shouted Horacio, retreating while clutching his temples in agony —. And I’ve no idea what stones you’re talking about!

  From the columns, hooded figures began to emerge — among them, Virellian.

  The devotees of the Crimson Raven Cult formed a circle beneath Kar’Nix, chanting an ancient hymn. The creature drew upon them slowly, siphoning their energy as though it were spiritual incense.

  — Then… it shall be my way.

  With a thunderous crack, Kar’Nix beat his wings. A crimson aura engulfed the palace.

  Jonathan and Horacio raised their arms to shield themselves, but their vision blurred.

  The power of Kar’Nix slipped into their minds like a corrosive virus, invading every thought, every memory, every fragment of will.

  Little by little, their bodies stiffened — their eyes empty, their breathing shallow.

  When they looked up again, they were no longer themselves.

  Only two puppets now, their eyes dim, standing before their new master.

  Kar’Nix observed them with disdain, the reddish glow of his gaze flickering between fury and disappointment.

  He pondered in silence for a moment, diving into their minds. He saw broken images — the camp, the floating isles, the battle… yet none matched the figure he sought.

  — It’s true… — he murmured dryly —. Neither of you is Dante Montenegro.

  His wings folded slowly, and a spark of irritation crept into his tone.

  — I shall have to be patient. Sooner or later… he will come to me.

  The echo of his words faded through the spiral walls of the palace. Outside, the sun rose over the floating isles, bathing the countless hourglasses in a blazing light.

  Meanwhile, in Level 101: The Neighbourhood of Echoes, Bealuna emerged from the great tunnel leading into the level, gasping, muttering curses under her breath as she brushed the dust from her clothes.

  — Damn rune of Good Fortune… — she grumbled, clenching her fist in frustration. You dragged me to the Lapis Lazuli Forest just because I wished the people at Eden Camp could see how beautiful the Cloud Kingdom was… and now you make me walk half the world to get back here.

  She sighed with exasperation, trying to catch her breath. That tunnel had seemed endless.

  At last, her boots struck the firm cobblestones of the Neighbourhood of Echoes — the camp of the Red Wolf.

  Around her, the grey houses stretched endlessly towards the horizon, identical, colourless, soulless.

  Nothing had changed. And yet, to her, it still felt like home. A refuge she could always return to.

  She walked briskly towards the main square, the heart of the camp, determined to find Matilde.

  Surely she would know some way to return to the Cloud Realm.

  Her cheeks flushed the moment his name crossed her mind.

  Dante.

  That name alone was enough to unsettle her breathing.

  Every time she remembered his wary gaze or that deep, restrained voice, something stirred within her chest — something she didn’t quite understand.

  It was more than curiosity. More than gratitude.

  She smiled shyly, lowering her gaze like a girl caught by her own thoughts.

  She didn’t yet understand what it meant — or what it might become.

  — Dante… — she whispered softly, pressing a hand to her chest —. Wait for me. I’ll find a way to return to that level, whatever it takes.

  The wind of the Neighbourhood of Echoes blew gently between the identical houses, lifting grey dust that swirled around her like an omen.

  Bealuna closed her eyes for a moment, unaware that, at that very instant, the echo of her voice travelled through the folds of Nullaria, crossing levels — brushing against the same air breathed by the one she called for.

  And far away, in the Cloud Realm…

  Dante strode swiftly across one of the floating bridges. Around him, the rocky, barren isles swayed slowly in the void, held aloft by nothing at all.

  It was then he remembered the phone Matilde had given them. The signal was unstable but just enough to send short messages. With tense hands, he recorded two thirty-second videos.

  In the first, he showed his surroundings — Level 1002, the Cloud Realm. The floating isles with white-tiled ground, lifeless and still, and at their centre, the colossal suspended clock. The bridges connecting each isle, the endless cushion of clouds, and, in the distance, the white palace of Kar’Nix.

  He spoke of the entities that roamed by night — their menacing silence, the way they vanished with dawn. He described the five-hour cycles, a realm both beautiful and treacherous, filled with invisible traps.

  In the second video, he looked straight into the camera, his expression heavy with resolve.

  — Matilde. I’m fine. But tell Bealuna to wait there. She mustn’t try to come back. She mustn’t return. This place isn’t safe.

  He paused briefly, his eyes hardening.

  He pressed send. The icon flickered — and the data went, carrying with it more than just words.

  At that same moment, in Level 101: The Neighbourhood of Echoes…

  Matilde held the phone, brow furrowed. Both videos had arrived almost at once. Her usually calm face had grown grave, especially as she heard the second message.

  And just then, Bealuna burst into the square, running.

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  — Matilde! — she cried breathlessly.

  Bealuna stopped before her, panting.

  — Do you know any way to reach Level 1002? — she pleaded, nearly out of air —. The Cloud Realm. There must be a path, a shortcut, a link — anything.

  Matilde stared at her, puzzled, still holding the device. There was something unsettling about the timing of it all — as though invisible threads of fate had pulled Bealuna there precisely when she needed to be stopped.

  Or as though Dante had known she would arrive at that exact moment.

  Matilde took several seconds before answering. She drew a deep breath, trying to remain composed.

  — The… Cloud Realm… — she repeated slowly, weighing each word —. Your next assignment was meant to be in Level –69… the Sea of the Horned Whales.

  Bealuna stared at her in disbelief, her voice heavy with frustration.

  — Did you not see the memories I left in the Heart of Nullaria? — she demanded, fists clenching —. You should already know everything we went through with May, Peter, and Dante... Everything about Horacio and our battle against the Sixth Terror.

  Matilde said nothing. It was clear that she did know. Yet her calm, motherly gaze was misread by Bealuna, who took it as a demand for further details.

  Bealuna pressed her hands against her head, holding back a scream.

  — I suppose it’s best if I start from the beginning — she murmured at last, with a resigned sigh.

  Matilde did not reply. She knew that keeping Bealuna talking meant, at least for now, keeping her safe.

  And so, beneath that sky devoid of sun or stars, words began to weave themselves through the silence of the Neighbourhood of Echoes, spreading beyond its borders. Elsewhere in Nullaria, far from that place, other names and memories intertwined in a different conversation.

  In a remote region, the air smelled of iron and silence.

  Harold and his group — the four survivors of the Trial of Love who had escaped alongside Dante — arrived at the S.I.E.N. base, in Level 25,201.

  The setting was a small, abandoned military airfield, surrounded by a green meadow that stretched endlessly to the horizon. There were no trees, no rocks, no hills; only grass, wind, and a leaden sky.

  The airfield lay in ruins, yet its inhabitants had transformed it into a fortress of research and surveillance.

  The group entered a reinforced office. Cold lights. Armoured glass. Maps covered in notes and crossings-out. Sketches of entities. Lists of levels and their anomalies.

  At the centre, around a round table, the soldiers spoke quickly, almost anxiously, reporting to their leader —one of the three senior commanders of the base.

  A man in his mid-fifties observed them in silence. His white hair, slicked back, stood out against the black thermal uniform of military cut — designed to withstand extreme temperatures and corrosive environments — the most advanced survival standard in Nullaria.

  He had once served as an agent of the FSB, the Russian Federal Security Service.

  His name was Radoslav Volkov, a man whom few things could surprise, for he had already witnessed the worst humanity had to offer.

  Volkov narrowed his eyes at Harold’s comment.

  — Did you say… Dante Montenegro? — he repeated in a deep voice —. Now that you mention it… Bealuna, the young woman you referred to, recently shared her memories in the Heart of Nullaria — the ones of the battle against the Sixth Terror.

  According to those recollections, Dante, someone named Virellian, and she managed to overcome the trial… and save everyone.

  The words hung in the air. No one dared to speak.

  From a shadowed corner, a young woman of about twenty-two, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, listened silently. She held a curved wooden staff, naturally twisted into a spiral shape. She said nothing, yet her mind echoed with a single name.

  Dante Montenegro.

  The silence that followed was so dense it felt as if even the air itself were holding its breath. And in that same instant, within the Cloud Kingdom, that very name was spoken once again.

  Dante felt the thick air of the place as he stepped deeper into the vast white palace of Kar’Nix. Columns stretched along both sides of the grand hall, and the shadows shifted as if trying to flee from him.

  He moved forward without hesitation. He knew this place too well to fear it.

  — Dante Montenegro! — Kar’Nix’s voice thundered from above, his burning crimson eyes fixed upon him.

  Dante tilted his head slightly, still walking.

  — Seems I’ve been getting rather popular lately — he replied with a wry smile.

  From between the columns, the shadows began to take form. Hooded figures emerged one by one, walking in silence. Their brown robes were tattered, scorched at the shoulders, revealing the Omega mark glowing crimson upon their skin.

  They all shared the same hollow gaze, the same reddish glint in their eyes.

  Virellian. Horacio. Jonathan.

  There they stood, staring at him with stiffness —puppets without souls.

  — Well, well… — muttered Dante with a touch of irony —. I didn’t think those two idiots would end up here.

  According to his memories, there was a chance they could be killed by Kar’Nix, though it wasn’t a fixed variable in his regressions.

  Dante couldn’t help but chuckle.

  — Those two definitely have more lives than a cat — he said, referring to Jonathan and Horacio.

  — Silence! — roared Kar’Nix, unfurling his black wings with violent force. The air shook, heavy and resonant —. Hand over the Divine Stones!

  — And what do you want them for? — asked Dante calmly, not moving an inch.

  — That is none of your concern!

  Kar’Nix’s eyes widened. A red flash burst from his pupils, focused like a beam, straight into Dante’s mind.

  But as soon as it touched him, something repelled it.

  The Protective Aura radiating from his Rainbow Belt — fuelled by the power of the two Divine Stones — enveloped him completely, oscillating between shades of red and violet. The energy warped around him, as if the very air refused to obey the raven.

  Kar’Nix frowned. There was something… impossible about it.

  Then he saw it.

  A ring on Dante’s hand, gleaming with a faint, pure silver light.

  — The… Angelic Ring of the Seventh Heaven? — whispered Kar’Nix, his wings twitching —. That cannot be! That relic was sealed within the clocks of this level!

  Dante raised his hand, showing the ring with a faint smile.

  — Seems your raven talent for hiding shiny things… isn’t as sharp as you thought.

  — Impossible! — bellowed Kar’Nix, his voice echoing through the entire hall —. No one should have found it!

  — And yet, here I am.

  The raven’s wings spread wide in fury. A new psychic blast tore through the hall, stronger than before. The columns trembled, the marble cracked, and the air distorted under the pressure.

  The energy struck Dante head-on…

  …and bounced back.

  Kar’Nix recoiled, bewildered.

  — It’s useless! — declared Dante —. I’ve got one hundred per cent protection against magical, psychic, and cursed attacks. You won’t be able to control me… Kar’Nix.

  — That’s impossible! No one in Nullaria possesses such resistance!

  — No one… except someone wielding two Divine Stones — replied Dante, his voice calm, unwavering.

  For a moment, Kar’Nix froze. The certainty in those words infuriated him. This intruder not only knew his name, but his very nature.

  It made no sense. Who the hell was he?

  — Kill him! — Kar’Nix finally roared.

  His followers activated their runes. Tattoos spread across their arms shone with a multicoloured flare. They began to advance, surrounding Dante with tense, synchronized steps — beasts chained to a single mind.

  — Wait! — Dante’s voice cut through the air with authority.

  The movement stopped. Even Kar’Nix hesitated.

  Dante raised his gaze.

  — I didn’t come to fight you — he said firmly —. I came to offer you a deal.

  Kar’Nix frowned, suspicious.

  — What kind of deal?

  — A Mystical Bond Pact — Dante replied —. Between your soul and mine.

  Silence fell at once. The very columns seemed to hold their breath.

  Kar’Nix stood still, trying to decipher him.

  How could a human possibly know about such a ritual?

  Who was this man?

  And while doubt echoed in the mind of Kar’Nix…

  In the Neighbourhood of Echoes, Bealuna was finishing her account of recent events: the battle against the Sixth Terror, Horacio’s betrayal, and the deaths of May and Peter — to the leader of the Red Wolf camp.

  — …and that’s how I ended up back here — Bealuna concluded softly, eyes lowered.

  Matilde remained silent for a long moment, processing every word, every image. Then she slowly looked up.

  — Horacio… — she murmured with resignation. Shaking her head, she folded her arms.

  — Thank you for telling me everything. But I can’t let you go. Dante was very clear: he doesn’t want you to follow him. He wants you to wait here. He’s worried about you.

  Bealuna blushed, and Matilde noticed immediately.

  — Well, well… it seems someone’s blushing — she said teasingly.

  — It’s not like that — stammered Bealuna, uncomfortable —. You’re misunderstanding.

  — Oh, love… — Matilde smiled knowingly.

  Bealuna crossed her arms, irritated.

  — This has nothing to do with that! We’re… just friends, honestly.

  — Of course — Matilde answered with a crooked smile.

  Her gaze dropped, thoughtful. After a few seconds of silence, her tone shifted, becoming more serious.

  — Tell me, Bealuna… do you remember why your soul was pulled into Nullaria?

  Bealuna swallowed hard. She didn’t answer. She froze.

  — Earth discarded you — Matilde continued gently —. Because you lost the will to live. You told me yourself: the beatings from your ex, your father’s abandonment… all of it shattered you inside.

  Bealuna lowered her head.

  — But that’s no longer who you are — Matilde went on —. You’ve changed. Grown. You’ve made friends. You’ve learned to trust.

  She paused, smiling with a trace of tenderness.

  — And yes, there’s someone who matters to you more than you want to admit. It shows in how you speak of him… in the way you defend him.

  Bealuna opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. She just breathed heavily, staring at the ground.

  — You hold one of the most powerful runes in Nullaria — Matilde said, her tone grave again —. But Good Fortune isn’t enough. That rune protects you, yes, but it doesn’t teach you to endure.

  If you keep running, Bealuna… if all you do is survive without fighting… your soul will stagnate.

  And a stagnant soul can never leave this place.

  Bealuna slowly lifted her gaze.

  — Then… what should I do? — she asked, her voice trembling.

  Matilde held her eyes, firm.

  — Be brave. Use your gift not to escape… but to move forward. You’re not alone anymore.

  Bealuna stood still, processing every word. Something inside her stirred.

  It wasn’t fear. It was clarity.

  For the first time in a long while, she understood that surviving wasn’t enough.

  She had to be brave.

  If she wanted to fight alongside Dante, she couldn’t keep depending on luck.

  If she wanted him to see her as a pillar — not a burden to protect — she had to move forward.

  And as that thought bloomed in her mind, she smiled with determination.

  Then she felt it: a faint tremor within, a subtle vibration — as though something in the air had answered her resolve.

  Nullaria had heard her.

  Without realising it, by proving her courage, Bealuna had been chosen for the Trial of the Fifth Terror of Nullaria: Valour.

  Meanwhile, in Level 1002 — The Cloud Kingdom…

  Kar’Nix tilted his head, wary.

  — What do you know about the Mystical Bond Pact? — he asked, intrigued. He couldn’t fathom how this human was so well informed.

  — It’s a contract sealed by spiritual will — Dante explained —. Both parties swear to aid each other until a shared goal is achieved. If one betrays the pact… the other dies.

  Dante narrowed his eyes.

  — Don’t ask unnecessary questions. I know full well that you can see the runes engraved within every being’s soul. That’s how you choose your followers: the strongest, the most useful.

  Kar’Nix let out a low, rough chuckle.

  — Your rune of Infinite Regression is truly fascinating. From what I can tell, you’ve already relived this scenario multiple times. That’s why you’re so well informed.

  Dante took a step forward, his gaze hardening — laden with silent resentment.

  — And that’s also why I know what you really are: a coward gifted with a grand ability — the Dominion of the Mind. But this time, you’ve run into something you can’t control. A wall you never expected.

  — You can see my rune — he added firmly —, but you can’t read my mind… or grasp what I’m truly capable of.

  Kar’Nix’s body tensed. He roared, furious.

  — Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to, insect?

  Dante nodded calmly.

  — Of course I do. You’re one of the Three Great Mystical Beasts of Nullaria.

  For a moment, Kar’Nix’s expression froze.

  — I don’t see why you’re so surprised — Dante continued —. I discovered it many regressions ago. You’re ancient. Born amid chaos, in a realm scarred by war, death, and sorrow. But you’ve heard stories, haven’t you? Legends of a distant world. A place called Earth.

  The giant raven stood motionless.

  — You saw it — Dante pressed on — in the minds of your followers.

  I want to leave this place too, Kar’Nix.

  You and I share the same desire: freedom.

  You want to escape Level 1002, to see the world… and I want to go home.

  Dante paused, letting his words sink into the heavy air.

  — The Divine Stones… you believe in them too. You’ve seen them in others’ memories. You know the power they hold. That’s why you gather followers — not just for protection or relics, but because deep down, you cling to that silent hope… that if you collect them all, something might change. That everything might be different.

  A dense silence took hold, as though even the wind dared not breathe.

  — If you make the pact with me, I’ll give you that: a real chance to escape. Together, we’ll find the remaining stones. You’ll share your power with me, and I’ll give you a chance… and something more.

  Dante smiled. With a flick of his hand, he opened his Dimensional Storage space.

  A citrus-scented breeze filled the hall as about thirty luminous fruits fell to the ground, glowing violet with silver veins.

  — Lunar Fruits from the Lapis Lazuli Forest.

  Kar’Nix was left speechless. He counted silently: one, two, three… thirty.

  — You know how hard it is to cross the dimensional folds that separate Nullaria’s levels just to reach the Lapis Lazuli Forest and return — Dante went on —. This fruit is almost impossible to obtain. But if you make the pact with me, not only will you have all the Lunar Fruits you desire… you’ll experience things you never could while trapped here. Flavours, sensations, worlds beyond imagination.

  He closed his eyes with calm, confident poise.

  — So…? —he asked with a faint smile.

  When he opened them, Kar’Nix was no longer listening.

  His massive form had shrunk to that of an ordinary raven.

  He was devouring the Lunar Fruits with wild greed, mumbling between bites:

  — Heavenly… delight… — utterly enraptured.

  The cult’s followers watched in stunned silence.

  Kar'nix

  Dante crossed his arms, satisfied.

  There we go, he thought. Won this treacherous bird over again — easier than in the last regression.

  Gaining the power of one of Nullaria’s Three Great Mystical Beasts… was precisely what he needed.

  Kar’Nix’s mastery of the mind would be crucial to facing the Trial of the Fifth Terror of Nullaria: Valour.

  End of Chapter Thirteen.

  the Cloud Kingdom.

  In this realm, power reveals truth — and even beasts remember what it means to crave freedom.

  the Neighbourhood of Echoes marks her spiritual awakening.

  The choice to be brave — not merely to survive — sets her path towards the Fifth Terror: Valour.

  What is S.I.E.N., and what do they truly seek? As the map of Nullaria expands, will human conflicts ever be contained… or only multiplied?

  Nullaria, every trace echoes back.

  — Alberto Báez