The trek through the city continued, the sun rising higher and higher until it reached noon. Yet it didn't feel like they had traveled very far—and there were reasons for that. Well, many factors, actually. The terrain of the ruined city was more dangerous than even the gutter they'd crawled through before. Compared to what they were facing now, the city outskirts were paradise. Strange anomalies, dangerous fauna, unusual voices, and lingering, broken spaces with chaotic rifts. They just had to be careful; as long as they persevered, they would return home eventually. The strength of the monsters kept rising. Huge titans moved between buildings—some horrifying, some just plain malicious—so they had to navigate through territory infested with weaker creatures instead. It was a massive detour… one that could hardly be called uneventful. The closest waypoint wasn't far, but factoring in the dangers ahead? It was going to take some time. And the battles they fought were getting more dire by the hour. They absorbed more mana cores, and some excess was fed to Damon's shadow, boosting his mana. He'd learned something new about the nature of mana cores. If he fed them directly to his shadow, it would be added to his mana pool. But if he absorbed them into his body, his physical vessel would be refined... and his soul, or rather, his shadow, would grow stronger. He would hear the familiar notification: Your shadow grows stronger… He sighed. He still didn't know everything about the system. It was still so damn mysterious. That gnawing sense of unease kept growing stronger the deeper they went into the city. So far, they'd only fought minor monsters—but still, the feeling wouldn't go away. He had other worries, too. His new level-up requirement. [Level Up Requirements] Fuska Soul Consumed [0/1] That was what he needed to reach Level Eleven. Getting to Level Ten had already been brutal—he'd barely managed it after killing ten Mist Knights, thanks only to Thren enthralling the others. But this… this was different. He had no idea what a "Fuska" was. But he was almost sure it wasn't just a type of monster. No… it could be a monster. However, something told him it was a name. A name of someone… or something. Which meant the system wasn't giving him a choice. It was telling him he would encounter this Fuska—sooner rather than later. He clenched his fist, gauntlets slick with blood. "So be it," he muttered. Let whatever—or whoever—it was come. He'd end them. A soft clang of armor pulled him from his thoughts as Matia sat beside him. She removed her helm, revealing long hair braided neatly behind her head. "We're almost at the waypoint. All we have to do is cross that bridge…" She pointed at a pedestrian bridge, now in ruins. It was broken. Below, green water flowed toward some unknown part of the city. He didn't need to use Shadow Perception to know the water was infested with monsters. He sighed, eyes trailing to the sky—where a colossal creature flew lazily overhead, its wings so massive they cast a shadow big enough to blanket entire buildings. "Yes… but I just feel weird… it just feels…" "Too easy," Matia interrupted. She had the same feeling Damon did. Leaving the city was starting to look way too easy. "Do you think it's the Keeper? Do you think he'll stop us from leaving until we play his game?" Damon frowned. "I'm not… su—" "Keeper? Do you mean Vathren? I suppose he did get corrupted... He calls himself the Keeper of False Truths." Matia nodded solemnly. "Mm. The former City Lord. No one leaves Lysithara without playing his game. Fail… and you die…. Or worse." Valarie's lips twitched slightly. "Hm. I see. What's the game?" Damon nodded and began explaining the rules. The Keeper asks you to play. These are the rules: — You must play the game. — Refuse… and you die. — Fail to pass… and you are damned. — You must answer both questions correctly. — You may not delay the game indefinitely. — Pass… and you receive a reward: safe passage through Lysithara. — You may play as an individual… or as a group. — You get only one lifeline. Fail again, and it's the end. — The answer to the first question must not be the same as the second. — You must pass the second question. Valarie listened silently as Damon explained. The First Question… "I can only exist when I am not. I am always true and always false. What am I?" The Second Question… "What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?" Valarie scoffed. "What a simple game… It's quite easy." Damon tilted his head. Was she serious? The first question was tricky but manageable. But the second? "That one doesn't even have an answer. How is that simple?" Valarie smiled, amused. "It's quite obvious… Vathren always lost at simple, uncomplicated games. He had a tendency to overthink simple things." But her smile faltered. This… wasn't like Vathren. Damon glanced at Matia, annoyed. "I don't want to sound insensitive, but… can you just tell us the answer?" Valarie sighed. She didn't understand why they didn't see it. It was obvious. "The second question simply doesn't have an answer. It's an impossible question. Something unstoppable meeting something immovable—both are absolutes. It's a paradox. A paradox can't be solved." Sylvia, drenched in monster blood, walked over. "A paradox is a self-contradictory statement," she said, "which can only be true if it's false, and false if it's true." Valarie took on the tone of a teacher—guiding children through their first lesson. "The question is a paradox. Not the game. If you restrict yourself to only the second question, you've already lost…" They all looked at her, still clearly not getting it. She sighed again. "It's very simple once you get it. The second question doesn't have an answer, so you simply have to…" She froze. The delicate lips trembled. Her whole soul quivered. "Arrrghhhh!!" She screamed in agony as a wave of white mist poured from her mouth, collapsing into a deep black fog. She glowed faintly before falling limp from Damon's shoulder. "Argh… ru… run… he's… co…ming…"