"Something is wrong..." Back-to-Back had said that for the seventh time in the hours since they continued their climb up the spiral tower. Damon cleaned the blood off his sword as he downed a recovery potion. This particular potion helped an individual recover from wounds, fatigue, lost mana, endurance—and all that sort of thing. He wasn't stingy. He gave the ones he got to his party. Good thing he could. They had been under constant monster attacks. The potions and drops he looted were surprisingly useful, though some were outright cursed or just plain useless… so he fed those to his shadow instead, boosting its power. He only kept what he thought was worth keeping. Like the recovery potions. --- [Recovery Potion] [Type] Consumable [Description] Return to your persistent state and be cleansed of the demons of pain, blood, and fatigue. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎 [Effects] This potion allows for quick recovery, healing wounds, restoring mana, and endurance. --- Damon frowned, clearly annoyed with the phantom of Back-to-Back. "I'm telling you, something is off..." Damon sighed. "Fine... you're the part of my insanity that represents my paranoia and rational thinking. What's the problem?" Back-to-Back glared. "I'm you. I don't know. Why else would I be nagging in my own head?" Damon exhaled again, wiping more blood from his blade. "Right. I can't see the future. Guess I'll just proceed with caution. Thanks for nothing..." He understood how his insanity worked—it was disturbingly simple. The two phantoms he saw were pieces of him. Back-to-Back represented Damon's paranoia, self-loathing, and critical thinking. Snarky and cruel. Which made sense—Back-to-Back had practically raised him on the brutal streets of Valerion, sharpening the already bitter child into someone colder, meaner, and smarter. Out there, it was a dog-eat-dog world. No dignity. No honor. Just survival. Then there was Carmen Vale—one of the few who had shown him kindness. No surprise that the kind hunter's way of life had shaped Damon's philosophy to some degree. Damon still lived with the guilt of killing him. So Carmen appeared as a calm, slightly amused observer. A manifestation of rationality, maybe past guidance, maybe guilt. Rarely did he speak cruelly—but when he did, it cut deeper than anything Back-to-Back ever said. Together, they formed a Greek chorus of madness—mocking, guiding, and breaking him all at once. His mind was a horrible place. "Let's go," Damon called to his party. Everyone looked exhausted—even with the recovery potions. In the meantime, he hadn't gotten a new skill. He pushed the thought aside. They continued their ascent through the ruined skeletal frame of the tower. Then—the attacks stopped. Those constant swarms of specialized low-level monsters were gone. 'Hmm. My gut's telling me something's off...' "No, not your gut. Just me." Back-to-Back sneered. Damon glanced at his shoulder, where a disembodied pair of lips hovered, glaring at a strange tear in space-time. "Valarie, what's on your mind?" She smiled faintly. "Something's up there. I feel a powerful aura." Damon sighed. "I see. So that's why..." "What do we do?" Sylvia asked, tense. Valarie scoffed. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Think of it as a parting gift. I've got power to spare. Just… make sure I get a good burial, okay?" Damon didn't know how to feel. Valarie had been dead for a long time. This was just her discarnate soul possessing her lips. Evangeline nodded slowly. "Let's go, then…" "We... we're finally at the point where we can leave." Damon could tell she was trying to be strong. He glanced at Matia beside him. Then Sylvia. All of them knew they'd have to part ways with Valarie Sunwarden eventually. They had always known. Still... "Why does it still hurt…" Carmen's voice whispered from his side. "Should you really be thinking about that right now?" Damon bit his lip. This was getting annoying—but the voice was right. He glanced at the towering pillars holding the spiral structure aloft… the deep darkness below… the crackling rifts in space itself yawning open—one misstep and it was certain death. The vast distance of Lysithara. His battered party. Bloodstained, dented armor. Grime smeared on faces. Expressions etched with weariness. Their journey had brought them to the end. This was it. Crack. Damon heard a fracture echo beneath them—his danger sense screamed. It felt like the heavens had shifted; the space felt wrong, the air cold… dread. He felt dread. He yanked Evangeline backward as the ground beneath her cracked open. The party scattered as the floor gave way, a spatial rift forming where it collapsed. They weaved between falling rubble and shattering earth, jumping to safety before each part of the ground fell. Xander moved, shattering rocks with his armored fist; Leona ran close by his side, sparks flying around her sword. Evangeline, like a mirage of light, frantically dodged. Damon grabbed Sylvia and Matia, activating his omnidirectional gear—wires shot upward, and he pulled them with him. A formless creature reached out from the top of the tower—its translucent arm manifesting through the rift. Damon slammed into the floor above, rolling with both girls and Valarie in tow. He looked up. The creature retracted its arm—it hadn't even attacked them. It hadn't even noticed them. Damon exhaled. They'd ended up one floor above. He peered through the rift—Xander, Leona, and Evangeline were still safe below. Fortunately. "What now?" Matia called, crouching down and yelling through the rift. "There's another route if you go around," Sylvia replied. "We're close to the top. Let's meet there." Valarie's voice echoed from his shoulder. "I'll deal with the monster up top. So you kids don't worry. Just meet us at the next floor…" Damon clenched his jaw. "Let's regroup on the floor beneath the last. Whoever gets there first, wait for the others." He bit his lip—frustrated. The spatial rift between them made it impossible for Xander to float the others up using gravity magic, or for Damon and the rest to climb back down. Back-to-Back grinned beside him. "And the fellowship has been split…" He leaned in closer. "That's never a good sign."