Just as he reached the stairs, after banishing the reddish plant—His face darkened as he turned back. His heart thudded hard, and his chest tightening. A chill ran down his spine.
His breath was heavy and rough. Each inhale sounded faintly in the air.
The red petals were moving toward him — not falling freely, but sliding across the ground toward him, like they were alive.
"What the—"
He didn't finish his words. His instincts screamed. He turned and hurried up the stairs toward the gate.
Sure it gave powers, but who the hell will endure that much pain just to get a lowkey power! Yes, of course it was a lowkey power to him.
Huf! Huf! Huf!
Breathing heavily after reaching the gate, he looked back once again. His heart didn't calm — it raced faster, like it wanted to burst.
He was never afraid of anything. Not even beasts or demons. Not even pain.
Except… the Angel of Chaos and his Lord punishments.
He thought of asking help from Lord, but he instantly dismissed that idea.
'I can't do that, no I would rather get punishment for not handling this easy matter—Huh? of course it's not that easy for me…'
And this thing — this thing felt worse, more like a monster than a plant.
'I need to enter the tower before they reach me.'
Quickly, he turned toward the gate again.
"How to open it?"
The gate was covered in rust and dust, as if untouched for ages. A metallic scent entered his nose.
'Oh, yes!'
Just as the idea flashed in his mind, he closed his eyes and ordered the nature subconsciously,
"Exert much force for once — with my push."
He placed both hands on the gate.
The coldness of metal spread through his palms, and suddenly a creaking sound tore through the silence — old and ghostly.
The gate slowly opened.
A faint red light glowed inside, illuminating a long, terrifying corridor. It stretched endlessly despite the size of the tower, and beyond that, only thick darkness waited.
The dread in his heart deepened. Thud… thud… He could hear his own heartbeat echo inside his skull through ears.
He quickly stepped inside before those horrible petals caught up— because he knew, deep down, that their touch would be worse than death itself.
The corridor smelled of old iron, dust, and something ancient .
He turned his head slightly and saw the petals still moving toward him, faster than before.
And now… their form was changing.
He stared, frozen. Their shapes weren't steady anymore. They were growing, thin limbs sprouting from beneath.
The sight made his stomach twist.
"Lord Hu—"
Just then he tried to ask help from the Lord of Clothed Monkeys, but he felt his mouth get stitched tightly. He couldn't open his mouth.
He was about to run deeper into the corridor — but then something stopped him.
He tried to move his head… but couldn't.
No matter how much he tried, his body didn't obey. Not even his eyes could look away.
His breath caught in his throat. Panic wrapped around him.
The petals glowed faintly, and suddenly, the other reddish plants in the area started stretching toward them —crawling and merging .
They entered the glowing petal like blood being sucked into a wound.
And then — everything turned crimson.
Pure, heavy crimson.
Shrieking, unbearable voices pierced his head.
He couldn't move, but his hands still went up on their own— clutching his ears.
But the sound didn't stop.
His mind twisted in pain. His body screamed inside. His mouth opened, but no words came out—only a silent scream that broke his mind.
"Agrahhhhhhhhhhh—!"
He couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't even tell if he was still alive.
Then the glowing petal began to twist again — slow, deliberate, like something alive inside was forcing its way out.
It stretched, thinned, and the glow turned darker, red like raw flesh.
The surface cracked open, and from the front, countless tiny limbs slid out—twitching, scraping against each other as if testing their new freedom.
Four long arms followed, jointed in wrong places, bending backward with sickening cracks.
Two sharp horns tore through its head, dripping with blood-like light.
Then the eyes emerged—one after another—blooming across its body, each opening with a wet sound, rolling in different directions.
Beneath its skin, something moved—a swarm, wriggling, alive — making the flesh crawl and pulse like it was breathing through insects.
And finally, he felt it— fear.
Not the kind that made his heart beat faster… but the kind that froze it.
The air thickened around him. Even the sound itself seemed to twist into something darker.
His mind refused to accept what he was seeing—but his body already had. It trembled.
For the first time, he understood what true fear meant.
The kind that doesn't scream or warn—but whispers softly, you shouldn't be here.
But how could he even get out of here now?
The creature—the one that was once just a petal—floated toward him like a crawling insect.
And before he could react, it slid into his ear.
He froze.
A strange irritation burned inside his head. He wanted to move, but didn't dare.
Then he screamed— "Helllllllll! No! No! No!"
Tears flowed down his cheeks in crooked trails.
"Why is this even happening!?"
The creature entered completely.
Pain exploded all over his body. He scratched his face, clawed at his skin. Blood spilled. His mind shattered, his bones ached, his world broke apart piece by piece.
The thick and suffocating darkness engulfed him again.
And once again, countless empty eyes emerged from the void, staring from infinity… yet close enough .
Then, a clear ethereal voice echoed in his head.
A relic construct appeared before his fading vision.
[You have earned a new skill: Morrveil Vision]
[Your physical traits have been enhanced]
Everything vanished.
No more pain.
No more voices.
No more eyes.
It just… ended.
He blinked, confused. How could this be possible? Wasn't he supposed to suffer more?
No—how is he even alive?
And then, he found himself back at the same spot.
In the washroom, he didn't move an inch. His posture stayed the same—hands still, body frozen in place.
Only the faint dripping of water echoed, as if nothing had ever happened.
His face slowly darkened.