The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing a landscape that looked like a hallucination.
Floor 2: The Forest of Whispers was a dense, suffocating jungle of violet bio-luminescence. The trees were massive, their bark looking like twisted flesh, and the leaves pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light. There was no wind, yet the forest was noisy. A constant, low-level murmuring filled the air, like a crowded cafeteria heard through a thick wall.
[SYSTEM ALERT: FLOOR 2 ENTERED]
[ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD: AUDIO-REACTIVE FLORA]
[WARNING: The trees in this sector function as organic tape recorders. They absorb sound and replay it at random intervals. Some ancient trees can even pick up Internal Monologues or Future Echoes.]
"Great," Sarah whispered, clutching her [Cowardly Tactician's Wand]. "A forest that eavesdrops. My social anxiety is spiking."
Immediately, a nearby fern shivered. It replayed Sarah's voice, amplified to a shout.
"MY SOCIAL ANXIETY IS SPIKING!"
The sound echoed through the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a beast roared in response.
"Shhh!" Aryan commanded, putting a finger to his lips. He typed a message into the [Party Chat]—a new feature unlocked at Level 2.
[Party Chat - Aryan]: Nobody speak. If you speak, the trees repeat it louder. If they repeat it, the mobs find us. We text from now on.
[Party Chat - Barnaby]: This is discrimination against those of us without thumbs. How am I supposed to text? I am a fish.
[Party Chat - Aryan]: Just bubble quietly.
The Romance Trap
They moved into the undergrowth. The First Son walked with agonizing slowness to avoid snapping twigs. Mira used her [Shadow Step] skill to flit between the darker patches of the forest, scouting ahead.
Aryan watched her. In the violet light, with her emerald dress fluttering and her hazel eyes scanning the dark, she looked ethereal. He caught himself staring for a second too long.
He shook his head. Focus, Aryan. You're a Reality Architect, not a poet.
He walked past a large, weeping willow tree with glowing blue sap. As Mira teleported back to his side to report, the tree suddenly shuddered. It had picked up a signal. Not a sound, but a strong thought.
The tree began to speak in Mira's voice.
"...I wonder if he likes the green dress. He surrendered Peace for me, but he still hasn't complimented the dress. Men are so dense. Even world-saving heroes."
The forest went dead silent.
Aryan froze mid-step. He looked at Mira.
Mira froze. Her face turned a shade of red that glowed even in the purple dark.
[Party Chat - Rhea]: LOL.
[Party Chat - Sarah]: Ship it.
[Party Chat - The Stove]: The tension is delicious. It tastes like burnt sugar.
Mira buried her face in her hands. The tree, enjoying the drama, repeated the loop. "...Men are so dense..."
Aryan felt his own face heating up. He looked at the tree. He activated [The Red Pen].
He selected the tree's [Audio File].
[DELETE.]
The tree went silent.
Aryan looked at Mira. He didn't type. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, barely a breath.
"I like the dress."
Mira looked up, eyes wide.
And then, the tree next to Aryan decided to betray him too.
"...I want to hold her hand, but I'm afraid my mahogany arm is too rough. Also, she scares me a little. In a good way."
Now it was Aryan's turn to freeze.
[Party Chat - Barnaby]: Oh, get a room, you two! We are trying to survive a dungeon, not a soap opera!
The Echo-Panthers
Before the awkwardness could kill them, something else tried to.
A twig snapped.
The trees didn't echo it. They went silent. The background murmur of the forest stopped abruptly.
[PASSIVE SKILL TRIGGERED: PARANOIA (SARAH)]
[ALERT: AMBUSH DETECTED.]
From the canopy above, three shadows dropped. They were sleek, muscular cats with obsidian fur and no eyes—only massive, radar-dish ears.
[ENEMY: ECHO-PANTHER (LVL 12)]
[ABILITY: SONIC REND - Attacks create shockwaves.]
The first Panther lunged at Rhea. It opened its mouth and screeched.
SCREEEE!
The nearest tree amplified the screech, turning it into a sonic cannonball. Rhea was blasted backward, her HP bar dropping by 15%.
[Party Chat - Aryan]: FORMATION! First Son, Tank! Mira, DPS! Barnaby, Chaos!
The First Son slammed his shield into the ground. THOOM.
The trees echoed the THOOM, magnifying it. The shockwave knocked the Panthers off balance.
"Use the environment!" Aryan realized. "The trees amplify everything! If we make a loud enough noise, we can stun them!"
He looked at the Talking Stove.
[Party Chat - Aryan]: Stove! Insult them!
[Party Chat - Stove]: My time has come.
The Stove opened its grate. It didn't whisper. It bellowed with the force of a disgruntled cast-iron appliance.
"HEY! YOU OVERGROWN KITTENS! YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER AND YOUR FUR LOOKS LIKE CHEAP POLYESTER!"
The forest loved the insult. A hundred trees repeated it instantly, layering the sound until it became a deafening roar of verbal abuse.
"...CHEAP POLYESTER! CHEAP POLYESTER!"
The Echo-Panthers, whose sensitive ears were their greatest strength, screamed in pain. They writhed on the ground, overwhelmed by the sonic assault.
[Party Chat - Aryan]: NOW!
Mira used [Shadow Step]. She appeared above the stunned Panthers. She didn't have a weapon, so she used the [Heart of Flesh]. She slammed her hand down, releasing a pulse of Red Reality.
[CRITICAL HIT!]
The Panthers shattered into pixels.
[COMBAT RESOLVED.]
[EXP GAINED.]
The Voice from the Future
The group panted, recovering from the noise. The forest slowly quieted down, returning to its low murmur.
"Good job, Stove," Aryan whispered, patting the iron flank.
"I have a vast library of insults," the Stove clattered proudly. "I am a roasting machine, literally and metaphorically."
They continued walking. The path ahead led to a clearing where a single, colossal tree stood. Its bark was white as bone, and its leaves were gold.
[SYSTEM: THE ORACLE TREE]
[NOTE: This tree does not record the present. It plays the 'Deleted Scenes' of the future.]
Aryan stopped. "Deleted scenes of the future? That doesn't make sense."
"It means potential timelines," Sarah said, adjusting her glasses. "Things that might happen."
As they approached, the Oracle Tree began to hum. It wasn't the random chatter of the other trees. It was a specific, clear recording.
And the voice... was Aryan's.
But it wasn't the Aryan of today. This voice sounded older, colder. It sounded like a man who had lost everything.
The group gathered around, listening in horror.
"...It was the only way," the Future-Aryan's voice echoed from the white bark. "To reach Floor 100, the System demanded a sacrifice. I couldn't give it my arm again. So I gave it them."
A pause. Then the sound of a woman crying—Mira's voice.
"Aryan, please! Don't do this!"
Then, Future-Aryan again:
"I'm sorry, Mira. The story needs an ending. And you are just the draft."
SLASH.
The sound of a blade hitting flesh. Silence.
The Seed of Doubt
The recording ended.
The silence in the clearing was absolute. The trees didn't echo it. They seemed afraid to repeat it.
Mira stood frozen, her face pale. She looked at Aryan.
Rhea took a step back, clutching her brother's arm. "Aryan? That... that isn't real, is it?"
Aryan stared at the tree. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He felt the [Red Pen] ability itching in his fingers. He wanted to delete the tree. He wanted to burn it.
"It's a possibility," Sarah whispered, her [Paranoia] skill flaring. "The System said 'Deleted Scenes.' It means... it's a path you could take."
Aryan turned to his party. He saw the doubt in their eyes. He saw the fear. He remembered Vikrant, the Failed Hero, telling him that the Architect loves tragedy.
"I won't do it," Aryan said. His voice was shaky. "You heard the Stove. I'm a Reality Architect. If that future tries to happen... I will edit it."
He walked up to the Oracle Tree. He placed his mahogany hand on the white bark.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: THE RED PEN]
[TARGET: FUTURE AUDIO FILE]
"I reject this draft," Aryan growled.
He slashed his finger across the bark.
[ERROR. CANNOT DELETE POTENTIALITY. FILE IS CORRUPTED BUT REMAINS.]
The tree didn't go silent. It just whispered the last line again, softer this time, like a curse.
"...you are just the draft."
Mira looked at Aryan. She didn't step away, but she didn't take his hand either. The seed of doubt had been planted.
"Let's move," Mira said quietly. "The elevator to Floor 3 is ahead."
As they walked away, Barnaby floated to the front of his jar. He looked at Aryan with serious, bulging eyes.
"I say," Barnaby whispered. "If you ever try to sacrifice me, I warn you... I will use the Sneeze."
It was a joke, but nobody laughed.