Kael emerged from the narrow tunnel into a vast, open chamber. Unlike the twisting halls and shadowed rooms of the lower levels, this floor stretched wide in every direction, a perfect circle with polished stone floors that gleamed under a strange silver light. There was no ceiling — only a void above, where a pale, unmoving moon hung unnaturally close.
It wasn't a real sky. It felt painted. Designed.
At the center of the room, a tall obelisk rose from the ground. Around it, concentric circles were etched into the floor — like an arena. No, not like — it *was* one.
Kael's pulse quickened.
He'd seen nothing like this in the Tower yet.
The moment he stepped onto the first ring, the air shifted. A pulse moved through the ground, and the obelisk lit up — bright lines of runes crawling across its surface.
A low chime echoed through the chamber.
Then came the voice.
"Trial ten: The Arena of Echoes. Face what you've left behind. Only one may leave."
Kael turned, ready.
He expected monsters. Shadows. Beasts.
What stepped from the far side of the arena was… himself.
Not twisted, not monstrous.
Just Kael.
Same clothes. Same hair. Same tired eyes.
But there was something off.
This Kael smiled.
"Hello," the echo said, raising a hand in greeting. "Been waiting for this."
Kael tensed. "What is this?"
"You," the echo said simply. "But the version that turned away. The one who left the Tower behind. Who chose a different path. Peace. Quiet. A farm somewhere."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You're not real."
"I am real enough," the echo said. "This floor doesn't test strength. It tests choice. And you need to prove that the path you chose — the one of climbing, of killing, of changing — is the one that deserves to continue."
The obelisk pulsed.
The air thickened.
The echo stepped forward.
Kael barely dodged the first strike.
The echo moved like him. Fought like him. Predicted his moves before he even made them.
They clashed in the center of the arena, fists flying, shards flaring with bursts of heat and light. Kael ducked a sweep, spun, and landed a punch across the echo's jaw — only to be thrown back by a mirrored counterattack.
This wasn't just a copy.
This was *balance.*
For every shard Kael had, the echo had one too.
For every lesson he'd learned, the echo knew it also.
Kael was fighting himself.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer.
They traded blow for blow. Step for step.
But Kael felt it — the edge tipping against him.
The echo wasn't holding back.
Kael rolled to the side, panting, sweat running down his back. His ribs ached. One arm was nearly numb.
The echo stood calmly, breathing evenly.
"This is what your path costs," the echo said. "Pain. Loss. Sacrifice. You're barely hanging on. Why keep going?"
Kael looked down at his hands. Bruised. Bleeding.
He thought of the Iron Bloom.
Of the memory he gave up.
Of the monsters he'd slain.
The voices in the mist.
The masked stranger.
The stairs that always led upward.
"I climb," Kael whispered, "because no one else will."
The echo tilted its head. "What do you mean?"
Kael raised his eyes.
"There's something at the top of this Tower. Something ancient. Broken. I can feel it. It calls to me — through the shards, through the trials. If I stop, no one else will reach it. And if no one reaches it…"
He paused.
"…then all of this will be for nothing."
The echo was silent.
Then it nodded once.
And faded.
The obelisk went dark.
The pressure lifted.
Kael staggered to the center of the arena, where the echo had vanished.
Lying there was a shard — dark blue, with a ripple of silver running through its core.
When Kael touched it, there was no pain. No surge of heat.
Just clarity.
This was a rare shard.
A Memory Echo.
It didn't give power. It gave understanding.
Kael stood for a long moment, holding the shard.
Then he turned toward the next staircase — a spiral of black stone rising along the far wall, where no door had been before.
He walked without limping.
His wounds still throbbed, but something inside him had healed.
He had faced himself — and chosen his path again.
And now, the Tower would know it too.