Phased out

The room was silent again.

Ethan laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Noah and Milo were gone. The air was still. The night outside was quiet, but his mind was anything but.

Their words lingered.

"You don't put on a strong act.""That's probably why people look up to you.""Including me."

Ethan exhaled, rubbing his temple.

"That's not true, though."

He muttered it to himself.

Because it wasn't.

He was putting on an act.

They just couldn't see it.

They didn't see him in Phase 0.

They didn't see him running like an idiot, panicking, making reckless decisions, dragging Karlos down with him.

They didn't see how much of a burden he was.

Karlos was the one carrying him.

Karlos was the one who made the decisions.

Karlos was the one who kept him alive.

If Karlos were still here, he thought bitterly, he'd be the leader. Not me.

Ethan's fingers curled into the sheets.

"Why me?"

He said it out loud this time.

"Why do they think I'm something I'm not?"

He turned onto his side, gripping his pillow tightly.

He was stuck now.

The expectations were set.

He couldn't back out.

And the worst part?

He didn't want to.

That realization hit him harder than anything.

His breath stilled.

He had the chance to say no.

He could have told everyone, "You're wrong. I'm not that guy."

He could have pushed the role away.

But he didn't.

He had accepted it.

Why?

He frowned, staring blankly at the dimly lit room.

Maybe…

Maybe some part of him liked this.

The idea made his stomach twist.

Ethan had never been a leader, never the center of anything.

He was always just there. Existing. Moving through life.

But now?

People were looking at him.

People were relying on him.

And some part of him—the part he had never acknowledged before—wanted that.

Maybe he always did.

Maybe he just never had the energy to live up to it.

Or maybe—

Maybe he never had the opportunity.

That thought settled deep inside him, sinking into his bones.

He had spent his whole life watching others lead. Watching others take control.

And now that it was his turn?

He didn't hate it.

That scared him.

Because if he liked it—if he embraced this—what did that say about him?

Would he be willing to let go of this power?

Or would he become just like Victor?

Ethan swallowed hard, shutting his eyes.

"I'm overthinking it."

He turned onto his back again, exhaling slowly.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

Tomorrow, the tower awaited them.

And tomorrow—he would have to be the leader they believed he was.

Even if deep down, he still wasn't sure who he really was anymore.

Ethan let out a slow, steady exhale.

His mind was still racing, unraveling, questioning.

But his body?

His body was exhausted.

The bed beneath him felt soft, almost too soft. The dim glow of the small light on the nightstand cast faint shadows on the walls.

His breathing slowed.

His eyelids grew heavier.

His thoughts faded—one by one.

The weight of leadership.

The doubts.

The questions.

The guilt.

All of it—drifting.

His chest rose and fell steadily.

For the first time in a long time—

Ethan Baker slept.

And tomorrow?

He would wake up as the leader they needed him to be.

Samuel lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unmoving.

The room was silent. Too silent.

His mind, however, was loud.

Tomorrow, they would step into the unknown.

The tower.

The thing that had been hidden from them until now.

And inside?

Samuel didn't know.

No one did.

But Ethan—

Ethan didn't hesitate.

"If something's waiting for us inside… we deal with it."

His words echoed in Samuel's head.

Firm.

Unwavering.

Certain.

Samuel furrowed his brows.

He muttered to himself:

"That kind of bravery doesn't make sense."

"How can he sound so sure… when none of us have any idea what's coming?"

He let out a slow sigh, rubbing his eyes.

Maybe that's why people followed Ethan.

Because even when things didn't make sense—he acted like they did.

And maybe—

That was enough.

His breathing slowed.

His eyes grew heavy.

And slowly, he drifted into sleep.

Tomorrow…

They would find out if Ethan's certainty meant anything at all.

There was only darkness.

Ethan slept soundly, his breathing even, steady.

His body was completely still.

Nothing disturbed him.

Nothing reached for him.

Nothing waited beneath him.

Until—

Something moved.

From under the bed.

First, a single hand. Pale, rotting. Its fingers twitched, jerking unnaturally.

Then—another.

Then two more.

Then four.

Then eight.

Then sixteen.

Then thirty-two.

And then—too many to count.

They poured out like a slow, writhing tide, spilling from beneath him in grotesque silence.

The skin on the hands was wrong.

Maggot-infested.

Rotting.

The fingers had holes.

Not wounds—but unnatural, circular gaps, drilled through the flesh.

Some were small and neat, like a trypophobic pattern.

Others were jagged, raw, gaping.

They crawled, slithered, moving in sickening unison.

Then—they reached him.

Ethan's body jerked.

His chest seized.

Hands clamped over his arms. His legs. His stomach. His throat.

And then—

A hand covered his mouth.

It felt wet.

The pressure was unbearable. It sunk into his skin, crushing him into the bed.

His eyes snapped open.

Bloodshot. Wide. Terrified.

He tried to move—he couldn't.

He tried to scream—he couldn't.

The hands tightened.

And then—

From the depths of the darkness beneath his bed—

Something else was coming.

Something worse.

And Ethan was completely helpless to stop it.

Ethan struggled.

He fought.

He tried to breathe.

But the hands wouldn't let him.

They dug into his skin, pressing against his body with impossible strength.

His chest felt like it was caving in.

His throat burned, but no air escaped.

A hand—clammy, wet, unnatural—was still clamped over his mouth.

He tried to scream.

He tried.

But all that came out were muffled, desperate noises.

"MMMM—!! MHMHMH—!! MUMMMMM—!!!"

His eyes shot open further.

Wider.

Wider.

Too wide.

The whites of his eyes turned bloodshot, the veins pulsing red as his pupils shrank in terror.

He couldn't blink.

He couldn't look away.

Because something was moving beneath him.

Something huge.

The hands weren't the monster.

They were just holding him down for it.

And Ethan was completely trapped.

His heart pounded violently.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

His vision blurred at the edges.

And then—

Something whispered.

Not in his ears.

Not in the room.

Inside his skull.

A voice.

Crooked.

Twisted.

Amused.

The voice slithered through his skull like a worm burrowing into his brain.

"You think you lead, Ethan Baker?"

"You don't even own yourself."

Ethan thrashed.

Violently. Desperately.

His body jerked and twisted, but the hands wouldn't let go.

They held him down tighter.

Tighter.

He muffled against the rotting palms sealing his mouth shut.

"MMMPHHH! MHHHMMM!! MMHMMMMPHHH!!"

His heart pounded.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Louder. Louder.

His lungs burned, his body shook with every ounce of strength he had—but it wasn't enough.

The hands spread like a disease, crawling up his skin.

And then—the holes in their flesh moved.

Not empty.

Not wounds.

Nests.

Something squirmed inside.

And then—they spilled out.

Bugs.

So many.

Slick, writhing, black insects, pouring out of the holes like an overflowing nest of roaches.

They crawled across his skin, slipping under his clothes, burrowing into his hair, moving against his neck—his face.

His screams were trapped.

"MMPPHHHH! HMMMMHHH!! MMMMMMMMMMMM—!!"

Then it appeared.

From the ceiling.

A shadow. A figure. A presence.

It descended upside down, its legs still planted on the ceiling as its head came inches from Ethan's face.

It was looking directly at him.

And Ethan's eyes stretched impossibly wide in terror.

Because he knew that face.

Even in its rotting, decayed state.

Even with half of it torn away, exposing broken teeth and dried, blackened muscle.

Even with hollow, gaping sockets where eyes used to be.

He knew it.

Karlos.

Ethan froze.

His body went still.

His breath stopped.

The blood-dripping corpse of Karlos stared at him, expression twisted in something beyond hatred—beyond pain.

Beyond death.

And then—

It spoke.

"YOU COULDN'T EVEN SAVE ME."

The words shook the air.

Karlos's jaw snapped open, unhinged like a snake.

"HOW WILL YOU SAVE OTHERS?!"

The world shattered.

The screams started.

Not Ethan's.

No.

The room. The walls. The air itself.

The voice echoed, hundreds—thousands of cries, overlapping, suffocating, mind-breaking.

HELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELPHELP HELP HELP HELP HELP

The words pounded against his skull, drilled into his ears, suffocating every last ounce of his sanity.

Ethan struggled violently.

He couldn't close his eyes.

The hands peeled them open wider, wider, WIDER—

The veins in his eyeballs bulged, stretching beyond human limits.

Tears turned to blood.

It dripped down his cheeks.

And Karlos just watched.

His rotting face inches from Ethan's.

His empty sockets locked onto him.

Blood pooled inside them, spilling over, leaking onto Ethan's face in slow, thick droplets.

The insects on Ethan's skin drank it.

They devoured it.

And Karlos smiled.

A slow, awful, stretching grin.

His jaw cracked wider.

Too wide.

The flesh at the corners of his lips split apart, tearing all the way up to his ears.

And then—

He screamed.

"WHY COULDN'T YOU SAVE ME?!"

And his mouth opened wider.

Wider than Ethan's entire head.

His black, rotting throat was endless, hollow, bottomless.

Ethan's bloodied eyes trembled.

His body fought—twitched—tried to pull away.

But the hands wouldn't let go.

They wouldn't let him move.

Wouldn't let him close his eyes.

Wouldn't let him breathe.

And Karlos's gaping mouth swallowed him whole.

CHOMP.

Darkness.

Ethan woke up.

Gasping. Screaming.

His body shot up from the bed, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.

His skin was ice-cold.

His fingers dug into the mattress.

His entire body shook.

The nightmare was over.

But the horror still gripped him.

And when his trembling hands reached up to touch his face—

His eyes were still wet.

He wasn't sure if it was sweat.

Or blood.

Ethan couldn't breathe.

His body was trembling violently.

The room was silent, too silent— but inside his head, the screams hadn't stopped.

HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP

His breath hitched.

His chest felt tight, suffocating, crushing.

And then—

He broke.

A choked sob ripped from his throat.

Then another.

And another.

Until the dam collapsed.

Ethan curled forward, his hands clutching his face as his entire body shook with sobs.

Loud. Ugly. Gasping.

Tears streamed down his face, burning hot against his ice-cold skin.

"Karlos…" His voice cracked. "I'm sorry—"

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the moment he did—

He saw it again.

Karlos's rotting face.

The blood-dripping sockets.

The mouth stretching open, wider, wider—

Ethan gasped and clawed at his arms, at his skin, trying to ground himself—trying to convince himself he was awake, that it was over.

But it didn't feel over.

It felt real.

The phantom feeling of small insects still crawled over his skin.

His face felt wet.

His throat felt raw.

And his body—

His body felt like it had been devoured.

"I couldn't save you…" His voice cracked again, his fingers digging into his scalp, gripping his hair.

"I couldn't save you—"

His breath shuddered.

The guilt was crushing.

It weighed on him like chains, dragging him further and further down, until he felt like he would never stand again.

He pulled his knees up, pressing his forehead against them, his ragged sobs filling the room.

For the first time since this hell started—

He wasn't trying to be strong.

He wasn't trying to be anything.

He was just Ethan.

A broken, terrified, grieving Ethan.

And right now?

He didn't know if he could ever pull himself back together.

Ethan collapsed back onto the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion, but his mind—his mind wouldn't rest.

His chest rose and fell unsteadily, his hands still trembling slightly as he wiped the tears off his face.

He tried to breathe.

In. Out.

Calm down.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, the fear clung to him.

His body was exhausted, drained, desperate for rest.

But the moment he closed his eyes—even for a second—

He saw Karlos.

He saw that twisted, rotting face staring at him.

He felt the hands gripping him, the insects crawling over his skin.

His heart raced painfully.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't sleep.

Not again.

Not after that.

His breath shook as he turned onto his side, eyes wide open, staring at nothing.

The silence felt too loud.

And even though the nightmare was over—

It still felt like something was watching him.

Waiting.

The room was silent—but Ethan's mind wasn't.

He laid there, curled up on his side, too scared to sleep, too drained to move.

His breathing was still unsteady, his fingers slightly curled against the sheets. His eyes stayed open, locked onto nothing.

Then—

The doorknob turned.

His body convulsed violently, every muscle locking up in sheer terror.

No.

Was this real?

Or was he trapped in another nightmare?

His breath hitched painfully.

He could already see it—hands creeping from the door, a corpse walking in, empty sockets staring into him—

But then—

Alice stepped inside.

The light from the hallway cast a faint glow on her face, her blonde hair slightly messy, her expression soft but concerned.

She blinked, her voice gentle, slightly scolding.

"Why isn't your door locked?"

Ethan exhaled sharply, his heart still hammering.

Right.

He had forgotten.

After Milo and Noah left, he had been too caught up in his thoughts—his fears—to even lock the damn door.

But Alice didn't push further.

She had already noticed.

His face was streaked with tears.

His hands were trembling.

The strong, stubborn Ethan she had seen earlier—the Ethan who faced everything head-on, the Ethan people looked up to—

Was crumbling.

Shattered.

She didn't ask what he saw.

She didn't need to.

She already knew it had to be something terrifying.

Still, she tried to make sense of why she came, her voice softening.

"I couldn't sleep…" she admitted.

She hesitated.

Then, quieter:

"And I heard you screaming, so… I came to check."

Ethan's fingers curled into his blanket, his body tightening.

He immediately turned away, wiping his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he had been breaking apart.

Alice sighed softly, watching him.

"Your bed can fit two people, right?"

Ethan froze slightly.

His breath stilled.

Before he could respond, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her next words came quickly, as if reading his hesitation.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna try anything weird."

She said it lightly, playfully even, but her voice carried reassurance.

Ethan swallowed, still facing the wall.

"…Alright."

Alice settled in beside him, shifting under the blanket.

The bed dipped slightly as she got comfortable.

Ethan laid facing the right, his back to her.

Alice laid facing the left, her back to him.

There was space between them, but it wasn't cold.

It wasn't awkward.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

The silence stretched.

Then—Alice broke it.

"You don't have to tell me."

Her voice was soft.

Ethan stared at the wall, his fingers gripping the edge of his pillow.

"Tell you what?"

"What you saw."

Ethan swallowed hard.

The image of Karlos flashed in his mind again.

The blood.

The empty sockets.

The endless screaming.

His breath shook.

Alice heard it.

She hesitated, then spoke again.

"You know…" she whispered, almost like a confession. "You're not as alone as you think you are."

Ethan's fingers twitched slightly.

He exhaled, voice barely above a whisper.

"It feels like I am."

Alice turned slightly, tilting her head toward him.

"You're not."

She didn't push him to talk more.

She didn't force him to open up.

She just let him be.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

Ethan felt like he could breathe.

The silence wasn't haunting anymore.

It was comforting.

A different kind of warmth filled the room.

And even though he was still afraid to sleep—

He finally closed his eyes.

And for the first time that night—

He wasn't completely alone.

Ethan's breath shuddered.

A quiet, broken sob escaped his lips.

He didn't mean for it to come out.

Didn't want to break any further than he already had.

But the weight of it all—the nightmare, the fear, the guilt—was suffocating.

And Alice noticed.

She turned toward him.

Then, without hesitation—she hugged him from behind.

She didn't mind Ethan not wearing a shirt, she actually liked his skin touching her hands, warm and rough skin like a man. She didn't care about him being shirtless.

Ethan's body tensed immediately.

Her arms were small, delicate, but warm.

Her hands—soft.

Not just soft, but perfect.

They glided over his skin, gentle yet firm, the warmth of her fingers spreading against his back.

Her body melted against his, her touch carrying a soothing presence—angelic, almost unreal.

Her bare knees brushed against his hamstrings, the smoothness of her skin making his breath hitch.

The delicate tickle of her fingertips traced along his back, sending shivers—not of fear, but of comfort—through his spine.

Her fingers wandered up, slipping into his damp hair, playing with it softly, soothingly.

Ethan shook.

His lips parted slightly, voice weak.

"What are you—"

"Shush."

Alice hushed him.

A whisper. Soft, sweet, commanding—but kind.

Ethan froze.

His chest rose and fell unevenly.

He wanted this.

He had wanted this before.

But not like this.

Not under these circumstances.

Alice's fingers continued to move, grazing his back in soft, delicate patterns, her touch never lingering too long in one place—like a ghost, like a dream.

She hugged him tighter.

And she spoke.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Ethan."

"You're allowed to break."

"You're allowed to be human."

Ethan bit his lip.

His chest tightened.

His vision blurred again.

His breath caught—then cracked.

The sobs came back—harder.

Alice felt his body tremble in her arms.

She didn't let go.

She didn't mind that his tears soaked the pillow.

She just held him.

Let him cry.

Let him fall apart without judgment.

She caressed him—slow, patient, warm.

She let her presence fill the silence, let her touch tell him what words couldn't.

And slowly—Ethan's sobs weakened.

His breathing steadied.

His body stopped shaking.

His mind stopped screaming.

He was calm now.

The nightmare was gone.

Alice rested her forehead gently against his back, her breath warm against his skin.

"You think you won't be able to save anyone, don't you?"

Ethan didn't respond.

Because deep down, he believed it.

The nightmare told him the truth.

You couldn't even save me. How will you save others?

His thoughts echoed the words like a curse.

But Alice?

Alice believed something else entirely.

Her grip around him tightened, reassuring.

"You're wrong, Ethan."

Her voice was soft—but firm.

"You will save everyone."

Ethan's breath stilled.

For the first time in a long time—those words didn't feel like a burden.

They felt real.

And as Alice's warmth surrounded him, lulling him into the comfort of sleep—

He almost believed her.

Morning arrived too soon.

A soft golden glow seeped through the blinds, casting a warm light across the room.

Ethan's eyes fluttered open, his body still heavy with exhaustion, but something felt… off.

His mind was slow to wake.

Something about last night lingered in his chest—the warmth, the soft touch, the quiet comfort.

Alice.

His breath hitched as he turned to the side—

But the bed was empty.

The spot where she had been was cold. Untouched.

Ethan's brows furrowed.

His fingers ran across the sheets.

Nothing.

His heart thumped.

Was it a dream?

Did he just imagine everything?

For a moment, he sat there, gripping the edge of the blanket, trying to piece it together.

The way she whispered to him.

The way she held him.

The way she wiped away his pain.

It had to be real.

Didn't it?

He exhaled sharply and got up, throwing on his shirt.

But even as he dressed, the uncertainty gnawed at him.

His footsteps were hurried as he left the room, his mind racing.

Where is she?

He checked the hallway.

Nothing.

The dining area.

No one.

He ran a hand through his hair, his heartbeat picking up slightly.

The entire thing felt so vivid.

And yet—there was no proof.

No sign that Alice had ever been here.

Ethan clenched his jaw.

Maybe she left before he woke up.

Maybe she didn't want to make it awkward.

Or maybe—

Maybe his mind just made it all up.

That thought unsettled him more than anything.

The fresh, crisp morning air greeted Ethan as he pushed open the rooftop door.

The city stretched before him, bathed in the golden light of the sunrise.

The buildings—so perfect, so polished—almost felt unreal.

And standing near the edge, deep in conversation, were Nathan, Samuel, and Jace.

They were talking quietly, their expressions serious yet calm.

Ethan stepped forward.

"Morning."

They turned to look at him.

Nathan gave a small nod. "Morning, Ethan."

Jace, ever the silent one, gave a short wave.

Samuel, his usual grin present but softer this time, looked at him carefully before speaking.

"Morning, hero. You sleep well?"

Ethan hesitated.

His lips parted, ready to say yes.

But the truth?

He wasn't sure.

Was last night a dream? Or real?

And if it was a dream—why did it feel like something had changed?

Ethan forced a small smile.

He looked… good. Motivated, even.

Even though uncertainty still gnawed at him.

Even though he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, he had to keep moving forward.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… slept well. Not too good, but it was okay."

Nathan nodded, arms crossed.

"That was everyone's sleep."

His tone was calm, but the meaning was clear—nobody slept perfectly. Not with the tower waiting for them.

Samuel, standing with his hands in his pockets, gave Ethan a knowing look before nodding.

"Good enough, then."

But there was no time for small talk.

Because there were bigger things to discuss.

And Samuel, as much as he enjoyed messing around—

Had to get to the point.

He straightened his posture.

"Alright." He glanced between them. "Let's talk."

And just like that—

The morning peace shifted.

Because today?

Everything changes.

Samuel stood still, his expression unreadable.

Then, he spoke.

"Ethan, look back."

Ethan's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Just turn around."

Confused, Ethan slowly did as he was told.

He turned—his eyes scanning the skyline, his breath steady—

And then his stomach dropped.

The tower.

The impossibly massive, sky-piercing structure they had seen last night.

Gone.

Not hidden.

Not shrouded in fog.

Just… gone.

His heart skipped a beat.

His jaw tightened. His hands instinctively curled into fists.

"What the hell?" His voice was quiet, but the unease was clear.

He stared harder, as if his brain was playing tricks on him.

As if the more he looked, the more likely it would reappear.

But the skyline was empty.

Just the endless stretch of polished buildings and streets.

The city looked the same.

And yet, it wasn't.

Ethan turned back to the group, his eyes sharp. "It was there. We all saw it."

Samuel nodded. "Yeah. We did."

Nathan crossed his arms. "And now it's not."

Ethan exhaled slowly, trying to piece this together.

He looked at Samuel again, still confused. "What does this mean?"

Samuel sighed.

"That's what we were discussing."

And just like that—

The uncertainty of last night became something much worse.

Because now?

They weren't just dealing with a mysterious tower.

They were dealing with a city that was watching them.

And changing around them.

Ethan's mind worked fast.

He had gotten some sleep, and if there was one thing he was actually good at, it was thinking outside the box.

He turned to Samuel, his voice steady.

"Look, Samuel—last time we saw the tower, it was nighttime."

Samuel nodded, agreeing immediately.

Ethan continued. "And yesterday—before evening—everyone said they didn't see it."

Samuel's brows furrowed. "Yeah. I did say that."

Nathan, who had been standing with his arms crossed, finally spoke.

"That checks out." He exhaled, shifting his weight slightly. "When I first found this hotel, I didn't see any tower either. And that was in the morning."

Jace, silent until now, tilted his head slightly.

Then he spoke, his deep voice calm but direct.

"Conclusion?"

Ethan turned back toward the skyline, eyes narrowed.

He had the answer.

And yet—saying it out loud felt ridiculous.

But it was the only thing that made sense.

He inhaled.

"That tower… doesn't exist during the day."

The words hung in the air.

Samuel's eyes widened slightly.

Nathan's expression remained unreadable, but his fingers tapped against his arm, processing it.

Jace didn't react much—but that was normal.

Samuel was the first to break the silence.

"You're saying it… spawns? At night?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah. It doesn't move. It doesn't hide. It's just… not here until evening."

It sounded impossible.

Completely illogical.

But wasn't that the case for everything in this world?

Samuel let out a low whistle.

"Damn."

Nathan exhaled through his nose. "That actually makes sense."

Jace, simple as ever, just nodded.

Samuel rubbed the back of his neck, still impressed but confused.

"Okay, smartass. So how do we use that information?"

Ethan shrugged.

"No idea. But at least now we know—if we want to find that tower again…"

He turned to them.

"We wait for nightfall."

And suddenly—everything felt far less predictable.

Because now, they weren't just entering a tower.

They were entering something that only existed in the dark.

And that changed everything.

They had a theory.

Now, they had to test it.

Waiting until night was the only way to know for sure, so they had to prepare.

The group quickly gathered everyone, bringing them to the dining area.

Alice had woken up too, stepping into the room just as the others settled.

Ethan saw her immediately.

And for a second—he hesitated.

Would she say something?

Would she bring up last night?

He wasn't sure if he wanted her to.

Not in front of everyone.

Not yet.

But when their eyes met, Alice simply smiled.

Not teasing. Not flirtatious. Just… warm.

Ethan felt his chest tighten, looking away quickly.

He didn't say anything.

Neither did she.

And just like that, last night remained unspoken.

For now.

Near the kitchen, Ivy, Lena, Alice, Harper, and Milo were already moving around, preparing breakfast.

Milo—of course—was already cracking jokes.

"Alright, folks, let's hear it—who wants burnt eggs and who wants mildly burnt eggs?"

Harper rolled her eyes. "Or… hear me out… we make something edible for once?"

Milo gasped dramatically. "Wow. That was so hurtful, Harper. I might just take extra care to burn yours specifically."

Lena giggled, stirring something in a pot. "Milo, if you burn this meal, you're washing everyone's dishes."

Milo clutched his chest. "Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own teammates. This is why villains are made."

Despite the banter, it didn't feel forced.

Unlike yesterday, when everyone had been laughing too hard, trying too hard.

This time, it felt natural.

Like a real group.

Like a real team.

The Respect Between Milo, Noah & Ethan

As Ethan sat down, Milo and Noah joined him.

There was a pause.

Then, Milo smirked. "You're a real genius, you know that?"

Ethan blinked. "What?"

Noah nodded slightly. "Figuring out the tower's pattern. It was subtle, but you caught it first."

Ethan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't that deep. Just obvious once I thought about it."

Milo snorted. "And that's why we respect you, bro. Because you think about things none of us do."

Ethan exhaled, but he didn't deny it this time.

Noah smirked slightly. "You're better at this than you realize."

Ethan glanced at them both.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Just a silent understanding.

A quiet respect.

Then Milo ruined the moment.

"Alright, enough of this emotional shit. Let's eat before I die of starvation."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "You're the one cooking. That's on you."

Samuel caught Ethan's attention from across the room.

A small nod.

A silent signal.

Ethan understood immediately.

He stood up.

Everyone naturally turned toward him, quieting down as the food was being served.

For the first time, Ethan didn't hesitate.

Didn't doubt.

He had a plan.

And now—it was time to share it.

"Alright, listen up."

"We figured something out about the tower."

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

Because tonight—everything would change.

Ethan finished explaining.

Everyone listened carefully, absorbing the details of the tower's unnatural behavior.

Then, Ivy spoke up, her voice calm but sharp.

"If the tower only appears at night, then that means if we enter it—" she paused, glancing at the group, "we have to get out before morning comes. Otherwise…"

She didn't need to finish.

Everyone understood.

Nathan crossed his arms. "That thing disappears with the sunrise. If we're still inside by then, we might not have a way out."

Jace gave a slow nod. "Trapped inside an unknown structure, in an unknown world… sounds like a death sentence."

Ivy continued, "If it spawns at sunset, then that means the window to enter and leave is from sunset to sunrise. Nothing before. Nothing after."

A heavy silence fell over the group.

No one argued.

No one doubted it.

Because it made sense.

And that made it even worse.

Owen adjusted his glasses, speaking up for the first time.

"Alright, before we focus too much on the tower, let's talk about the basics."

Ethan turned to him, nodding. "Go ahead."

Owen glanced around. "If this place really is a 'rest phase' like the rulebook says, then we need to use it properly."

Lena nodded. "Meaning?"

Owen looked at everyone. "We need to gather enough food, water, and supplies to last. We don't know what the next phase will be like, and we can't assume resources will be available later."

Milo whistled. "Man's got a point."

Alice added, "We should also focus on medical supplies. Anything that can help in case we get injured inside the tower."

Harper sighed. "We have no idea what's inside, but let's assume it won't be friendly."

Derek stretched his arms. "Great. More nightmare fuel."

Owen nodded. "We split up into teams. Some of us will focus on food and water, others on weapons or survival gear."

Nathan cracked his knuckles. "Sounds like a plan. Let's not waste any time."

With that, everyone got to work.

Physically.

Mentally.

Resource-wise.

They prepared for whatever was coming next.

And just as the weight of the upcoming night settled over them—

As the group gathered, making final plans and sorting out supplies, one thing became clear.

Victor was missing.

Owen, ever the logical one, scanned the group as he discussed resource gathering.

Then, he paused.

"Wait… where's Victor?"

The room fell into a brief, uncertain silence.

Everyone glanced around, as if expecting him to step forward.

But he didn't.

Because he wasn't there.

Nathan exhaled through his nose. "Great. Just when things start making sense, that guy vanishes."

Harper folded her arms. "Typical. The creep was bound to wander off eventually."

Samuel rubbed his chin. "He could be anywhere."

Alice frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "We should—"

"No." Ethan interrupted.

Everyone looked at him.

His voice was firm.

"If Victor left, he did it for a reason. He's unpredictable, but he's not an idiot. If we waste time chasing after him, we lose focus."

A quiet tension settled over the group.

Uncertainty.

Something about it felt wrong.

But no one spoke up.

No one wanted to go look for him.

Instead, they all just… let it go.

And that, somehow, felt even worse.

Because deep down—everyone knew they'd see Victor again.

And when they did… it wouldn't be good.

As everything was finally settled.

All the resource gathering and everything had been done, something happened.

A sudden, unnatural vibration rippled through the air.

The city distorted.

The sky seemed to glitch for a second.

Ethan's breath caught.

Alice tensed beside him.

It was the first time they had felt it.

A strange, alien sensation.

The feeling of the world shifting.

Someone had been teleported into Phase 11.

The moment passed, and everything returned to normal.

But the unease remained.

Everyone glanced at each other, processing what had just happened.

Milo muttered. "That… was creepy as hell."

Harper folded her arms. "Whoever just arrived might be important. Or dangerous."

Samuel, always taking charge, sighed. "Only one way to find out."

He turned to Ethan. "You coming?"

Ethan hesitated.

Then, he shook his head.

"Not this time. I need to finish getting things ready here."

Samuel nodded, not questioning it.

Nathan, however, stepped forward. "I'll go with you."

Samuel smirked. "Good. Let's check it out."

And with that, they left.

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

The preparations were done.

The plan was set.

And now—all that was left was to wait for the sun to go down.

For the tower to return.