Level 55: The Spa of Eternal Peace

  —Dante! Dante, for God’s sake, wake up! — shouted Vanina, her trembling hands trying to stem the blood that poured from her companion as though his body were disintegrating between her arms.

  Dante’s back was a map of torn flesh, deep lines through which life escaped drop by drop. His breathing was erratic, a broken whisper. His lips were parted, his eyes vacant — his soul seemed not yet to have reached the surface after the jump between levels.

  — You can’t leave me alone now, you bastard! — spat Vanina, anger and fear entwined in every word.

  Despite the panic, she placed both hands upon the wounds. A warm, faint light emanated from her palms. The tattoo of her Lesser Light rune glowed softly. Dante’s body stirred. A guttural groan escaped his throat. He was returning.

  — You’re alive? — she murmured, on the verge of tears.

  Dante blinked slowly.

  — I am… —he said hoarsely — for now.

  Vanina stared at him, then something caught her attention. In Dante’s bloodstained hands lay a rosary that emitted a sacred halo.

  — Is that? — she asked sharply — A relic?

  Dante closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, and nodded with regret.

  — Yes. I found it… before jumping into the lake.

  Vanina extended her hand and, with a slow gesture, observed the rosary in awe. Her pupils dilated. A brief projection flickered across her retina:

  [Zvezdara’s Rosary — Blessed Relic]

  Grants 30% resistance to all poisons to its bearer.

  Place it around the neck to activate.

  Without much thought, and seeing Dante’s poisoned arm, she placed it around his neck. The combination of the relic with her Lesser Light rune was perfect. Dante regained consciousness.

  The rosary glowed, imprinting itself upon his soul like a silent tattoo.

  — Don’t worry. I’ll say we couldn’t find the level’s relic. I wouldn’t have been able to save you if I hadn’t used it — Vanina said.

  Dante didn’t answer. Everything had gone exactly as he’d planned. To claim the rosary, he had to take that risk; otherwise, Vanina could have accused him of theft before Eden.

  Vanina turned and walked towards a nearby fountain to wash her hands and splash her face. She still wondered, confused, whether she had done the right thing.

  Taking advantage of her distraction, Dante drew from his pocket the small dark sphere that had rolled out of the cursed box touched by Carlos on Level -6 — the Cursed Relic of that level.

  [Dimensional Storage — Heart of the Cursed Relic]

  Allows storage of up to 100 items within a dimensional space, limited to inanimate objects.

  Place it on the left palm; the object will be absorbed into the bearer’s soul.

  Dante wasn’t surprised. He knew exactly what it was — another of the essential artefacts he needed to collect. Now he could carry multiple weapons, potions, and gems without worrying about space, no longer limited to the three dimensional compartments all souls automatically possessed upon arriving in Nullaria.

  After reading the object’s information while holding the sphere in his left hand, he clenched it. The surface slowly dissolved, seeping into his palm. A mere thought was enough to summon a holographic menu, select what he desired, and materialise it in his hand or at a specific point in the environment.

  As though something tore him from his concentration, Dante lifted his gaze and saw Vanina washing at a nearby fountain. Then he noticed it: there wasn’t just one fountain, but dozens — perhaps hundreds. Pools stretched in every direction, connected by smooth, white marble corridors, endless and gleaming. Some were joined by golden bridges or floating slabs that seemed to defy gravity. The light was warm and diffused, as if a formless sun enveloped them from every side at once. There were no shadows.

  The walls had no edges, only continuities. Columns without purpose, stairways descending into bottomless abysses, corridors that seemed to merge with the water. Everything was white, polished ceramic, identical, without a single crack. The water, a greenish-blue hue, moved with suspicious slowness.

  After a blink, an inscription appeared upon his retina, describing the level:

  [Level 55: Class 3 — Survival Difficulty: Hostile Silence]

  Constant phenomena of mental and emotional alteration.

  High risk of loss of memory, purpose, or identity. No apparent violence, but prolonged stay may induce total surrender.

  The exit exists but is hidden beneath layers of pleasure and illusory peace.

  Only those who remember pain and resist false calm manage to escape.

  Level 55

  On a nearby wall, a strange symbol — similar to a number — glowed faintly. Dante recognised it: Resistance.

  He remembered what he knew about this level. The further one advanced, the deeper the water became. Some halls were wide, without columns; others so narrow a person could barely fit. Remaining too long in any of them was a certain death sentence.

  Before them, several round fountains surrounded an enormous square pool. In the centre, upon a slab of black marble, stood a structure: an altar with five runes arranged in a circle, each bearing a different symbol.

  The one he had just seen on the wall was among them.

  To escape, they would have to decipher the exact combination. Recognition wasn’t enough — the order was vital, and time, limited. Worse still, the symbols were scattered throughout the entire level, forcing them to move without rest.

  Vanina, still at the fountain, felt the warm, welcoming water, motionless. The silence wasn’t total, but had a strange texture, as though each sound were absorbed by the walls.

  A dangerous calm began to seep through her body — sweet, seductive, inviting her to lower her guard.

  Then something moved.

  Not a Nightmare. Something subtler.

  A murmur without voice. An intention.

  The threat of that level was passive, sensory. It focused on self-destruction through surrender, not direct aggression.

  The Nightmares of this level did not attack outright; they altered the surroundings, corrupted emotions. They were mechanisms of the ecosystem more than conscious beings.

  With her low perception, Vanina couldn’t see or feel them; that was why everything seemed so calm. And precisely for that reason, it was more dangerous — her body didn’t react to the threat.

  Dante, however, sensed something. Not clearly, but enough — shadows among reflections, distortions beneath the water, mists condensing and dissolving within seconds.

  That subtlety made him doubt what he saw — doubt what was real.

  A sudden movement caught his attention.

  A woman, about twenty-seven, watched them in horror from a corner, crouched, eyes reddened.

  — Get out of there, please! — she begged, her broken voice echoing through the corridors.

  Vanina jumped. Dante raised a hand calmly.

  — We don’t want trouble — he said, approaching slowly — We’re from Eden. We fell here by accident during a reconnaissance.

  The woman looked at him in confusion, as if those words meant nothing. The water rippled slowly around them, making her close her eyes and cover her ears in despair.

  Dante leaned in, speaking softly, firmly.

  — Breathe — he whispered, gently holding her face — Breathe. It’s all right. Calm yourself… remember: fear narrows perception.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The woman trembled, lips dry. Moments later, she drank a little of the water flowing from a nearby statue. The liquid, shining and serene, steadied her hands and breathing almost instantly.

  When Dante and Vanina introduced themselves and proved they weren’t a threat, she spoke, voice steadier now.

  — I’m Cintia — she said, with a faint, ironic smile — And I can see your level of perception is really low.

  Vanina frowned.

  — What do you mean?

  Cintia looked at her with a mixture of compassion and resignation.

  — Vanina… what you’re washing in isn’t water. You see it as water, but it isn’t. You might not perceive it clearly yet, but that’s blood.

  Silence fell like a slab.

  — Each ripple you caused — she continued — were screams. Thousands of souls pleading.

  Vanina stepped back, horrified.

  Cintia lowered her gaze, her tone becoming almost didactic, though tinged with restrained sorrow.

  — For those who have not yet elevated their perception, the sound of water is calming… almost hypnotic. Beautiful, truthful. But if you die in this level, you do not disappear: you dissolve. Your body, your thoughts, your pain… become part of this place.

  It is not a violent death, but a surrender. Your soul gives in and the level absorbs you.

  She paused before continuing.

  — The danger here is triggered by passivity, not by action. This level rewards movement, observation, staying awake. Those who stop for too long… fall asleep forever.

  Vanina swallowed hard.

  —How can something so peaceful… kill you?

  — The Nightmares of this level release an imperceptible mist — Cintia explained — or a compound dissolved in the water and the air. It relaxes the body, numbs the senses, until the mind shuts down. It is a poison of calm. First you lose the will to move, then your purpose, and finally… you surrender.

  Her gaze hardened.

  — The densest waters are the most dangerous. They are saturated with dissolved souls. This level is a mirror of inner abandonment. Here, those who renounce their will merge with the surroundings.

  Only those who maintain their individuality can survive.

  An uncomfortable silence took hold of the place, broken only by a constant dripping sound that seemed to come from nowhere.

  — The dripping you hear is not dripping — Cintia added quietly —. They are voices repeating their final thought over and over. The constant splashing is a stifled weeping. And the sound of the water in the pools… are pleading whispers.

  Dante looked away towards a nearby fountain. The water still moved, but after Cintia’s explanation he could discern a faint distortion. For a moment he thought he saw something red when he blinked, an image that vanished the moment he tried to focus on it.

  Cintia continued:

  — The code to escape this level can be lost if you fall asleep… or if you immerse yourself too deeply in this false peace. The symbols are right in front of you, but if your perception fades… you simply stop seeing them. The exit exists, but only for those who remain present.

  — That water you’re washing with looks different from the rest, doesn’t it? — asked Vanina, confused, noticing that Cintia continued refreshing herself with the water coming from a small side spout carved into a fish-shaped statue.

  Cintia nodded.

  — Yes. I suppose this fountain is connected to a neutral point of the level, which is why it’s different. I can see it with a bright bluish tone, almost transparent. It’s Star Water. It can heal any ailment, remove poisons, curses, or even mental control. But there are very few like this… and, from what I know about this level, they never appear twice in the same place. They vanish or simply shift somewhere else.

  Dante understood what that implied.

  — So… the level offers salvation only to those who are still looking for something — he said quietly.

  — Exactly — replied Cintia —. Only to those who haven’t fully given up.

  Dante and Vanina exchanged a silent glance. The warning was clear: this level would not kill them through violence, but through resignation.

  Vanina spoke, almost to herself.

  — How many must have vanished here without knowing all this…?

  Cintia sighed.

  — Too many. Some arrived together, like you two. But over time they began to separate. Some stayed staring at the water for hours, others submerged themselves… and some simply surrendered. The level devours them from within.

  Vanina looked at the waters again, and now she no longer saw beauty, but a trap: a poison disguised as comfort.

  Cintia lowered her voice.

  — All the water you see is diluted blood, with distorted faces… souls that likely come from the Luntra Lagoon.

  — The Luntra Lagoon? — repeated Dante, suddenly alert.

  — Yes — Cintia nodded —. It’s said that in the Final Level there is a gigantic lagoon made of this very same water. Those who manage to reach it must escape from it to leave the Realm of Nullaria. I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard it from a member of the Red Wolf faction. He claimed to have premonitory dreams.

  Vanina looked thoughtful.

  — Red Wolf…? — she murmured, touching her chin, as if the name awakened something in her memory.

  Dante watched her with unease.

  He had never heard of anyone with premonitory dreams. In all his regressions, Cintia had only ever told him about the existence of the Luntra Lagoon, but she had never mentioned anyone with prophetic dreams in previous timelines.

  What the hell does this mean?, he thought.

  Was this new regression coming with small variations?

  And if what he believed he knew was changing…?

  The thought terrified him. Because if the details could alter… so could the fates of those he needed to find. And if that happened, the knowledge gained through his regressions would be useless.

  Worse still, he might lose the chance to reunite with those whose runes would help him elevate his perception… or even escape Nullaria.

  — I remember hearing that name — said Vanina after a moment —. Isn’t that the faction that lives in a neighbourhood full of strange entities?

  Cintia smiled for the first time, with a mix of irony and weariness.

  — Red Wolf faction is one of the many refugee centres that exist in Nullaria. It’s located on Level 101. The entities in that level are known as Echoes. They’re believed to be incomplete beings… similar to faceless humans, entirely grey and servile. They’re friendly as long as you don’t attack them or disturb their routine.

  — Neighbourhoods with friendly entities? — murmured Vanina.

  — Yes —Cintia continued —. It’s like a gigantic neighbourhood with attentive neighbours, always willing to help… too willing, if you ask me.

  Dante frowned.

  — Others? So there are more refugee camps? — he asked, intrigued.

  — Indeed — Cintia replied with a brief, almost resigned smile —. There are many… though few remain stable for long.

  The conversation faded as Cintia stood up.

  — Well, lads… we need to move. There are five symbols hidden in this level. If we find them and decipher their code, we’ll be able to leave this place.

  — I see you’ve seen them too — said Dante, watching her closely —. But do you know where the others are?

  — No. But I have an idea. This level rewards willpower, remember? So we mustn’t stop for too long — she replied firmly.

  Hours later, the three of them advanced through floating corridors and golden bridges that creaked beneath their steps. The air was dense and vibrant, charged with heavy humidity. Around them, the water seemed to breathe. It stirred without cause, as if it had a life of its own. Some pools were dark and deep, so black they looked like abysses; others, so clear and still they seemed like mirrors.

  Upon entering a large hall, they found an immense square pool surrounded by female statues holding empty jugs. On one of the endless walls, Cintia stopped abruptly.

  — There — she whispered, approaching the marble.

  On the surface there was a carved symbol, glowing softly with a gentle light.

  — Willpower — Cintia murmured as she brushed it with her fingers.

  Vanina frowned.

  — How do you know what it says? — she interrupted suspiciously —. Dante’s the only one who can read those strange symbols. He’s the one who bears the Rune of Language. How come you can read them too?

  Cintia stared at her. There was no surprise on her face, only a quiet disappointment. Dante tensed.

  — I possess the Rune of Language — she said calmly —. It was granted to me when I first fell into Nullaria, in Level 1. And, as far as I know, there can’t be two identical runes in this world.

  Silence fell abruptly. Vanina slowly turned towards Dante. He pressed his lips together, avoiding her gaze.

  — Dante…? — she whispered.

  But before she could say anything more, Cintia raised a hand urgently. Her eyes hardened.

  — Shh… something’s coming.

  A thick mist was gliding between the columns of the corridor, moving with a will of its own.

  — We have to get out of here, now! — Cintia shouted.

  She didn’t say it aloud, but she had seen something else inside the mist. Something she didn’t dare describe. Dante felt it too: a presence behind the white veil, an invisible weight watching him. Vanina barely breathed as they ran. The corridors seemed to stretch and distort, mocking their urgency.

  They turned a corner and entered a vast chamber with a rhomboid pool at its centre. Its depth was unfathomable. There was no other exit. They had to cross it.

  Cintia was the first to jump without hesitation. Despite the dark tone of the water, it didn’t feel as dense as she expected. But when Dante leapt in after her, the liquid thickened like tar. Each movement cost him twice the effort. His perception differed from Cintia’s. That was when he saw it: another symbol of the level’s riddle carved in the depths, glowing faintly beneath the water. The third one. He recognised it immediately. Clairvoyance.

  When they emerged on the other side, Cintia stopped short. In front of her, lying on the floor, was a translucent, gelatinous figure.

  — No… — she murmured in horror —. Kim…

  Vanina approached slowly. The gelatinous mass had a vaguely human shape. Liquid hands, deformed tendrils instead of fingers, an amorphous face struggling to scream without producing a sound. Gradually, the body dissolved, turning into water that flowed back into the pool.

  — Cintia…? — Vanina whispered, confused to see her trembling.

  Cintia shut her eyes tightly.

  — It was Kim… my friend. She couldn’t withstand this level — she said, her voice breaking.

  Cintia looked at her trembling hands, then at her wet body. Terror began to overtake her gaze.

  — I’m… dirty — she whispered, her voice quivering.

  — What do you see? — Vanina asked, approaching her, noticing the tremor in her breathing.

  — Blood — Cintia said in a thread of a voice —. On my skin… in my hair… everywhere.

  She began to look around frantically, breathing with difficulty.

  — You can’t see it, but it’s there. In the air, in the water, on us… We must find Star Water! It’s the only way to purify ourselves. If we don’t do it soon, it’ll start to affect us — she shouted, her eyes wide with panic.

  Dante watched in shock as Cintia lost control of herself.

  It was unsettling to witness how the water had affected her in such a way.

  Slowly, he approached the edge of the pool. The liquid remained bright, of a hypnotic, almost sacred purity.

  But there was something else.

  Something that called to him.

  He leaned forward, breathing slowly, trying to focus his gaze. At first, he saw nothing.

  Then… everything changed.

  A luminous distortion crossed the surface, and suddenly, beneath the water, a human face began to form.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Thousands.

  They didn’t float. They merged with the water itself. They screamed without sound, twisting, deforming, as if their suffering repeated endlessly in an eternal cycle. Every pair of eyes stared directly at him, pleading, yearning to escape.

  Dante stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest. The air grew thick.

  And then he felt it.

  A sharp buzzing filled the air, vibrating inside his skull. At first it was just a faint sound, then an unbearable roar.

  The ground seemed to lose consistency. His vision warped, colours melted into a white haze, the lines of the world began to shatter like glass.

  The dizziness hit him hard. Pain. Nausea. Disorientation.

  Everything spun.

  Vanina saw him collapse to the ground, eyes wide, breathing raggedly.

  — Da… Dante? — she murmured, frightened.

  The buzzing grew until it became a deafening roar. Dante felt his mind splinter. Reality was unravelling around him. His body wouldn’t respond. The voices of the faces in the water called to him again and again, until he could no longer tell whether they came from outside or from within his own head.

  Cintia, seeing him in that state, snapped back to her senses and immediately understood the situation.

  — Vazmentia! — she cried in horror —. He’s falling into Vazmentia…

  Vanina didn’t understand, but she didn’t hesitate. She knelt beside him, trying to channel her energy. Her hand glowed faintly as she activated the Rune of Lesser Light, but it had no effect. The light faded upon contact with Dante’s skin, as though the void itself devoured it.

  — No, no, no! Dante! Dante, please, answer me! — Vanina screamed desperately, shaking him, trying to bring him back.

  But it was already too late.

  The air cracked. The surface of the water vibrated with a dull pulse, and in the blink of an eye… Dante vanished.

  Vanina remained motionless, her hands still extended where his body had been.

  — W… where did he go? — she whispered, looking around.

  Only the echo of her own words answered, returned by the infinite corridors of the level.

  The water remained calm.

  Too calm.

  Cintia, standing beside her, said nothing.

  She knew what it meant.

  Dante had been swallowed by the very void itself.

  End of Chapter Four.

  Level 55.

  In this place, peace is the most seductive form of death, and surrender wears the mask of comfort. Dante, Vanina, and Cintia faced not violence, but silence — the kind that corrodes from within. Every reflection hid a soul, every ripple whispered the price of forgetting oneself.

  Was it fate that dragged him away, or the will of Nullaria itself?

  And tell me… where do you think he was taken this time?

  — Alberto Báez