Time kept passing, but nothing indicated the hour or the days—only that reddish moon in the sky. He had no idea how long he'd been lying on the ground, nor how long ago he'd arrived here.
Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Whatever the unit, he currently had no way of knowing. His phone? Thinking back, he hadn't had it since the beginning, and even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to use it.
Yet whatever time was supposed to pass, did pass.Were his broken bones healing?Was his once-labored breathing returning to normal?The pain he'd felt all over his body was fading?Each of his injuries slowly healed, as if they had never existed… As if the deadly battle he had somehow survived had left no mark on him. Yet it had undeniably happened.
As he recovered, he regained the ability to move and eventually stood up. Once on his feet, he made a few movements—he could control his entire body with ease, his motions were fluid and precise.
He then noticed that his clothes also looked brand new—every tear was gone, and there was no trace of the battle left.
Still stunned, Mike couldn't understand what had happened. He turned it over in his mind, but it just didn't make sense. Healing from injuries like that so easily? Just by lying on the ground? Impossible for a human.So something must have allowed him to recover completely. That was the only explanation.
Voice? — I think it's thanks to that red liquid on the ground. During the long time you were lying there, it seeped into you through your wounds, your clothes, and you also swallowed quite a bit. The process was slow, but as you can see, it had a fully restorative effect.
Mike — I see… It's incredible that this liquid is here and has this effect. No—on the contrary, maybe it was placed here on purpose…
The young man thought for a long time, realizing it couldn't be a coincidence. That liquid had been there from the beginning, and it was definitely suspicious.
Mike — I need to take some with me…
As he began searching for his bag, his foot hit something—an object he had forgotten. On the ground lay the "gift" his enemy had given him: the sword, seemingly made of an unknown material and still perfectly white, even though it was soaking in the liquid.
He bent down to pick it up. It intrigued him—it wasn't sharp, the edges were rather rounded, not made to cut but to destroy whatever they hit. As he had seen with the walls—and even his bones.
He looked at the sword more closely, especially the guard, because he thought something was written on it. Indeed, there was a small plaque with "No. 260" inscribed on it. He logically assumed it belonged to Entity No. 260. When Mike touched the plaque, it lit up and letters began to scroll across the blade. Slowly, they formed words.Mike, quite surprised, tried to read them—but couldn't. The words made no sense; they were incomprehensible to him.
Voice? — It says, "This sword has been given to you. Do you wish to sign it?"This language is very old, and few can still speak or even write it. Strange… what is it doing here? And that signing system… I thought it didn't exist anymore.
It was the first time Mike heard the voice genuinely questioning something it seemed familiar with.
Mike — So… you know this language? And "sign it"—what does that mean?
Voice? — Yes, but I only learned to read it. I didn't expect to come across it here.Signing it… hmm, to keep it simple, it means that only the person whose name is inscribed can wield the sword—unless that person gives it away or dies.Also, the sword will change and evolve with its user.You can sign it by placing a bit of your blood on the current name, but—
Before the voice could finish, Mike bit his thumb to draw some blood and pressed it onto the plaque. It darkened and completely changed. It now read "Mike", and the sword began to transform—first into a strange, misshapen object, then continued to shift for a while before settling into a small orb the size of a marble, black with a bit of white.
Mike — What is this? A weapon?Ah, wait—there's writing again!
As expected, new strange letters appeared, then formed words—ones that only the voice could read.
Voice? — Now it says: "Please wait: ??:??:??".What? The numbers aren't showing? That's never happened before…I guess we'll have to wait.
Mike — Meh, that's a shame.
Slightly disappointed, Mike put the little orb in one of his pockets and went back to searching for his backpack, which he found near the door. He rummaged through it for a bottle. Once he found one, he drank all the water—even though he wasn't thirsty—and filled the bottle with the liquid from the floor.
Mike — This is kind of disgusting… but who knows, it might come in handy.
He put the bottle back into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.He took one last look around and saw his knife on the ground.It too looked brand new.He picked it up and made a few moves to make sure he was fully recovered.
He was finally ready to move on.He could leave this floor where he had fought and nearly died—even though he still didn't understand why or how he had survived.
The young man walked toward the door and stepped through…Bathed in a white light, he arrived on another floor.