The transition was seamless this time.
One moment, they were standing in the Tower hub—light fading behind them. The next, they were already inside the garden.
And it was endless.
The Spiral Garden stretched in every direction, filled with black-stemmed flowers, towering fungi, thorned vines, and stone statues twisted into poses of agony. The ground was soft underfoot—like moss or memory. Above them, a twilight sky hung unmoving. Ahead, a stone path coiled in on itself like a serpent devouring its own tail.
Ayato blinked, trying to take it all in.
'This place is alive. It's watching us.'
The others stood beside him, silent and uneasy. Mio clutched her grimoire, Ren flexed his fingers, and Yui's hand strayed to her necklace—the one she always wore, a gift from her younger brother.
A system notification shimmered in the air.
[Welcome to Floor 7: The Spiral Garden]
"Forward is backward. Backward is inward. The garden does not forget."
– Objective: Reach the Garden's Core.
– Rule: Every step forward removes one thing you carry.
– Warning: What is forgotten may not be yours when remembered.
Ayato paused.
'This isn't a maze. It's a loop. A conceptual spiral.'
Mio whispered, "It's consuming us as we move."
Ren frowned. "Then we just don't move."
Ayato shook his head. "We have to. But we need to decide what we can afford to lose."
'We have to move forward. But every step costs us something. What am I willing to give up?'
The first few steps were easy.
Yui's necklace vanished—a gift from her younger brother. She gasped, fingers closing on empty air.
'She looks like she's lost a part of herself.'
Mio's grimoire lost a page. She winced, flipping through the book.
'The knowledge is slipping away. What else will we lose?'
Ren's blade dulled slightly. He cursed under his breath.
'Even his weapon is fading. We're being stripped bare.'
Then it got worse.
At the third curve in the path, Ayato blinked—and realized Yui was gone.
"Yui?!"
She hadn't been attacked. She hadn't screamed.
She had been forgotten.
[Status Update: Yui Asano – Removed from active memory.]
She still exists. But none of you remember who she was.
Ayato clutched his head.
'No. No, I remember her. I remember her voice, her smile, the way she always tried to keep us together.'
The system chimed.
[Observer Role: Anchor Activated]
You are immune to the forgetting. Do not speak her name aloud.
'I can't tell them. I can't remind them. If I do, it might erase her for good.'
They walked further.
Each loop around the spiral, the terrain shifted—becoming more dreamlike, abstract. Stone trees bled ink. Flowers opened to whisper regrets.
Mio fell to her knees.
"I just remembered something that never happened."
Ayato knelt beside her. "That's the floor. It's writing memories as it deletes them."
'It's not just taking things away. It's replacing them. What if we forget who we are?'
Ren clenched his fists, teeth gritted.
"How do we win?"
Ayato looked ahead. The center of the spiral glowed faintly. A statue stood there—of a woman with no face, holding a mask.
'That's our way out. But what will it cost?'
As they neared the center, reflections of themselves appeared on the path.
Ayato faced himself—but this version had glowing gold eyes.
'That's not me. That's what I could become. Or what I already am.'
Mio's double held a flaming staff inscribed with death runes.
'She's afraid of her own power. Of what she might do.'
Ren's mirror self was still bound by Kazuki's strings.
'He's still fighting the corruption. Still trying to break free.'
They didn't speak.
They ran.
Ayato fought himself hand-to-hand, relying on Karma Pulse feints and memory fragments. His echo was faster—but predictable.
"You know what I'll do," Ayato growled.
"So why do you keep doing it?" the echo mocked.
Ayato reversed a block, redirected the momentum, and stabbed his echo's shadow instead of the body.
'I have to be smarter. I have to change the pattern.'
It shattered.
Ren screamed as his echo plunged a blade into his shoulder—then froze.
'He's in pain. But he's still fighting.'
Mio unleashed a memory-flame that erased her echo in one searing burst.
'She's stronger than she thinks.'
At the center stood the Faceless Statue.
A system message appeared:
[To leave, offer a memory.]
Ayato stepped forward.
"I'll give you the memory of how I got this scar," he said, touching his temple.
"A small price for a clean escape."
The statue paused—then rejected it.
"That memory isn't yours. It's from a different cycle."
Ayato's breath caught.
'It knows. It knows I'm not just from this cycle. What else does it know?'
Mio looked up, bloody and pale.
"I'll give it something real."
She placed a glowing shard of a page on the statue's hand.
"My mother's voice."
It accepted.
The garden uncoiled.
Yui reappeared behind them—confused, scared.
"W-What happened? Why do I feel cold?"
Ayato didn't answer.
'I can't tell her. I can't explain. Not yet.'
The system spoke instead.
[Floor 7: The Spiral Garden – Cleared]
Memory toll logged. Forbidden memory flagged.
Next Floor: The Proxy Stage
As they returned to the hub, Ayato checked his hand.
His scar was gone.
So was the memory of how he got it.
Only one clue remained:
A single whisper from the system:
"Not all memories are meant to return. Some are anchors. Some are chains."
Ayato sat down, rubbing his temples. The others were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Yui shivered, Mio wrote furiously in her book, and Ren stared at his reflection in the water.
'We lost something today. Not just objects, not just memories. We lost a piece of ourselves. And we don't even know what it was.'
Mio looked up at him. "You okay?"
Ayato shrugged. "No. But it doesn't matter."
She frowned. "It matters to me."
Ren groaned. "I feel like I've been hollowed out. Like something's missing."
Yui hugged herself. "I feel cold. Like I've been gone for a long time."
Ayato looked at them all—his friends, his only family now.
'I have to protect them. Even if it means losing myself.'
The lights in the hub flickered. The system's voice was silent, but the weight of the floor pressed down on them all.
Mio closed her book and leaned her head on his shoulder. "We'll get through this, Ayato. We have to."
He nodded. "Yeah. We will."
'Even if it kills me.'
As the night stretched on and the others slept, Ayato sat awake, staring at his hands. The scar was gone. The memory was gone. But the ache remained.
'Not all memories are meant to return. Some are anchors. Some are chains.'
He closed his eyes, and for the first time, he let himself wonder—what if the chains are the only things holding me together?
(Chapter 14 End)