Zen woke slowly, the chill of the underground air pressing faintly against his skin. For a while, he just lay there, breathing.
One thing he didn't mind about this place—strange as it was—was the absence of nightmares. Ever since he arrived, the dreams that used to claw at his mind every night had gone completely silent. It was almost peaceful.
Almost.
But peace never lasted.
As his thoughts cleared, the weight of his situation settled back over him like a shroud. Why was he here? If this was a trial set by the Tower, what was he meant to do to pass it?
He had no answers.
He'd searched for meaning every day since waking in this dungeon, but everything remained maddeningly unclear.
Once, he'd overheard demons talking—muttering about something called the Zeroth Trials. Some said they could last years. Others claimed they ended in an instant. Yet to the outside world, only a moment passed.
The Tower's logic was never meant for mortals.
Zen frowned, remembering the last image of his real body—splintered and torn apart in a flash of pain. Was he still connected to it? Was this really the Tower's doing at all?Or had something else taken him?
The thought gnawed at him.
If he had no body left to return to...What happened then?
Still, one truth remained: the Zeroth Trial was said to determine who was worthy to climb the Tower.
But how could he prove himself, when he didn't even know the rules?
He clenched his fists, the stone floor cold against his palms. No matter what it took...No matter the cost...He would clear this trial. If it was a trial.
Zen sat up slowly, scanning the cell with tired eyes.
Elli caught his attention first, as always. She sat cross-legged near the far wall, motionless in meditation. He had never seen her sleep. While the rest of them collapsed into exhaustion every night, she remained like that—still, silent, like a statue carved from moonlight.
Watching her, something inside him tightened. A feeling he couldn't name.
His gaze dropped to his hands—the hands of this strange body he now wore.
A Soul Devourer. Even the name made him uneasy.
He had never heard of such a creature before waking in this dungeon. All he knew were the hushed things his cellmates had said: that Soul Devourers could consume souls.
But knowing that, and using it, were very different things.
He had tried—gods knew he had tried—to unlock that hidden strength. But all he'd managed was the faint ability to glimpse the souls of others: small lights glimmering under their skin, fragile and flickering.
It wasn't enough. Not even close.
He had considered asking for help—Emith, Izora, even Sister Elli—but something always held him back.
How could he explain? How could he say, "This is all a trial, and none of you are real"? Would they believe him? Would they turn on him?
So, he stayed silent.
But after yesterday… he knew he couldn't afford that anymore. Whatever this place was, it was far more dangerous than he had first imagined.
He needed help. Even if he had to lie. Even if he had to pretend.
He would learn everything he could—about this form, about Soul Devourers. He would survive. He would return to his sister.
Across the cell, Emith was just waking.
Among them all, Emith was the easiest to approach. Even though the others treated him kindly—aside from Ceaser's unpredictable temper—Emith's simple nature made things less complicated.
Zen stood and crossed the cell.
He stopped when he saw Emith chewing something—dark and crumbly—like a rock.
"What are you eating?" Zen asked.
Emith jumped, startled, cheeks puffed in embarrassment."Zen! When did you—uh—hi!" he mumbled, trying to hide whatever was in his mouth.
Zen just waited.
Blushing, Emith finally gave in. "It's cold iron. Sister Elli gave it to me. It's, uh… a snack. For earth spirits." He leaned closer, voice low. "Please don't tell anyone."
Zen gave a small nod. "Alright." He wasn't surprised. Elli, again.
Relieved, Emith offered him a piece. "Want some?"
"No," Zen replied immediately.
There was a short pause before he spoke again. "What do you know about Soul Devourers?"
Emith blinked, surprised. He swallowed hard, eyes going distant.
"I saw one once," he murmured. "A long time ago. One attacked our homeland. All the earth spirits were awakened by it. It was... terrifying."
He hesitated, then described it in a low, shaken voice:
"It was a monster. A behemoth. Its body looked like broken obsidian—jagged, huge, alive with hunger. It moved with these long, crawling limbs that tore through the ground like it was nothing. it had no wings. Just claws and darkness. Its head was all muscular and shadow, with hollow sockets that oozed black tendrils. Its mouth… great mother, its mouth was an abyss, dripping this black ichor that melted anything it touched. Forests withered. Rivers dried. The sky itself turned black. It didn't kill—it consumed. Everything."
He swallowed again. "Our elders fought it. We lost a fourth of our land before it suddenly stopped and retreated. They said… it was pregnant."
Emith's voice went quiet."The elders told us: if you ever see a Soul Devourer, you don't fight. You run."
He looked up quickly, almost panicked. "I'm not accusing you. I mean—you're not like that. You're different. I didn't even recognize you."
Zen said nothing. He just listened. The fear was real. The scars ran deep.
Then, after a pause, Emith added, "If you want to know more, you should talk to Big Sis Izora. She's read a lot. Come on, I'll take you."
Zen nodded once.
They crossed the cell together, and Emith called out, cheerful as ever: "How was your rest, Big Sis?"
Izora looked up from where she sat, her hands brushing off her clothes. "It was good," she said softly. "I dreamed of my mother."
A faint smile touched her lips, but her gaze drifted far away. "She was beautiful," she said, voice distant. "She scolded me in the dream. I used to fight the neighbor boy—Cinder. He always started it, but I made sure to finish it. And no matter what, I was the one getting yelled at."
Her eyes softened, glinting with quiet warmth. "She'd stand there with her hands on her hips, pretending to be furious, but I could always see it—the corners of her mouth twitching, like she was fighting a smile. She never stayed mad for long. Just one look, and I'd know she loved me more than anything in the world."
Her voice caught.
Small droplets of flame welled in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks in glowing tears. She wiped them away, but more followed, soft and relentless.
Without a word, Emith stepped forward, unusually serious.
"She's proud of you," he said quietly. "You've grown strong. Beautiful. I'm sure she's watching from the Beyond, smiling."
For a moment, the entire cell was silent.
Izora let out a shaky laugh and wiped her face again." Look at you," she teased, voice thick. "Who's the big boy now?"
Emith just scratched the back of his head, bashful as ever.
Zen stood nearby, quiet.
He was reminded—again—that everyone here carried stories. Loss. Memory. Grief. They all had lives before this place. Things they could never go back to—families, dreams, voices now distant, promises left unfinished, warmth turned cold, all buried beneath time's cruel weight.
Then, Emith turned to Izora. "Big Sis, Zen wants to know about his tribe. Soul Devourers."
Izora leaned back slightly, thinking. "I know a little. I used to sneak into the library back home. I read that Soul Devourers live alone. No clans, no society. They're not intelligent—just instinct. It's said they're impossible to reason with. They hunt spirits by nature. That's just what they are. Soul Devourers are natural predators of spiritual creatures—drawn to soul energy like moths to flame. They don't just kill; they consume, leaving nothing behind. Entire spirit fields would vanish overnight if one passed through. That's why they're feared by most.
She paused, studying Zen.
"But you… you're different. Somehow, you've held back that instinct. I don't know how." She frowned. "What I don't get is why they would send you here, knowing what you are."
A long silence stretched.
"When you arrived," she said softly, "we were scared. All of us. It was Sister Elli who vouched for you. Said you weren't dangerous. Said you were different. Maybe she saw something we couldn't."
A chill crept into Zen's chest.
Had Elli known from the start? Could she read thoughts? Memories? Had she seen that he wasn't really a Soul Devourer—but a trial taker from the Tower?
How much did she know?
Before the spiral could tighten, a soft voice cut through the air:
"What are you all talking about?"
Zen flinched.
Elli stood just behind them, silver-blue eyes calm and unreadable.
She smiled—gentle, almost teasing.
"Are you alright?" she asked, tilting her head.
Zen froze under her gaze. That smile seemed to pierce through him, layer by layer.
He nodded stiffly.
But the unease stayed.
And the questions only grew.