In the dead of night, one of the children could no longer suppress their desperate desire to escape. Perhaps it wasn’t just a longing for freedom but a surrender to despair, a near-suicidal yearning to end everything.
‘The red door is dangerous. Let’s not go in yet and see what happens.’
Despite this unspoken agreement among the children the previous day, this child gave in to their impulses. Quietly, they crept while the others slept, moving toward the red door.
Their heart pounded wildly, sweat dripping down their temples. Was this anticipation or anxiety? They couldn’t tell.
And then, they opened the door.
Creak.
Beyond the door lay a short hallway. Just an ordinary corridor.
To test it, the child rolled a small ball of dust they had gathered from a corner of their cell. The ball tumbled forward. Nothing happened.
Maybe—just maybe—this was real. Was this truly an escape route?
Guilt pricked at their chest but quickly faded. If they could leave this place, nothing else mattered. In fact, it was the others' fault for not having the courage to try first.
Yes, I’m brave, so I deserve this reward.
The child stepped forward.
Halfway down the hallway—
Bang!
The red door slammed shut behind them.
Creak. Creak.
From the ceiling of the corridor, a grotesque, many-legged creature began descending slowly. Its legs were adorned with sharp, metallic appendages—tools that looked painfully sinister.
"No, no, no!"
The child spun around, sprinting back toward the door they had come through. They yanked, pushed, even kicked it, but the door wouldn’t budge.
Whirrr! Clank, clank, clank.
The creature moved closer.
"I won’t leave! I won’t try to escape! Please, just this once, let me live! Please—!!"
Bang, bang, bang!
The child pounded on the red door desperately.
The noise roused the rest of the children from their sleep. They rubbed their eyes and stumbled out to investigate, only to witness the horrific scene unfolding.
Whiiiiirrr—
The sound of grinding, tearing machinery.
Bang. Bang, bang... Bang...
The pounding from the other side of the door grew weaker and weaker until it finally stopped.
And then, silence.
Drip, drip.
A trickle of red liquid seeped out from the crack beneath the door.
The children didn’t need an explanation. They understood immediately.
Another child had been freed—from life, from pain, from reality itself.
Their faces turned pale.
It had been a trap. Entering the red door meant a gruesome death.
But just then, a composed voice echoed through the prison, calm and measured:
"What a pity. He managed to open the red door but couldn’t make it all the way through. He only made it halfway down the 10-meter corridor. Since no one has succeeded, the opportunity still remains. Don’t lose heart."
"..."
A ten-meter hallway. He had only made it halfway.
The chance still remains.
Their thoughts became tangled. Or perhaps, their thoughts cleared.
Of course, these cruel mages wouldn’t let the children go without a catch. But the promise that anyone who completed the deathtrap would be freed? That sounded like exactly the kind of sick gamble these mages would propose.
A few children swallowed hard. What if it’s true?
It would be incredibly difficult, but what if —
What if I succeed?
Rational thought would tell them otherwise. Or perhaps they already knew: these mages, who had spent all this time crushing their hopes, would never truly let them go.
But they needed hope.
They couldn’t face the grim reality of being trapped here forever, suffering until death.
They wanted to live. And to live, they needed hope.
Even if that hope was a lie.
Some of the children’s eyes changed. They began glancing at one another, weighing their chances.
Who would go first?
If someone else went first and succeeded, the others wouldn’t have the chance to escape. But if they stepped forward first and failed...
The tension thickened.
That’s when someone stepped in front of them all.
"Don’t go in. You all know it’s a trap. You can’t go in!"
Yuna Yurensto stood in their way.
++++
As the chaotic situation settled, I began preparing for the next phase of this relentless battle of wits, resources, and sheer force. The memory-reading ability of my Armored Colossus form allowed me to skim through the recollections embedded in this floor. With a strategy forming in my mind, I resolved to proceed with brute force—pure and simple.
Standing in front of the group, I spoke bluntly, my voice resonating like a thunderclap:
"If you go in, you’ll die."
The reaction was anything but calm. Like a hive of disturbed bees, hostility buzzed in every direction, flaring up with defiance.
"Who do you think you are? Mind your own life!"
"Yeah, who cares what you think! We’re going to the ‘Paradise’ no matter what!"
"Even if it’s a trap, we’ll take that chance. It’s our choice, not yours!"
BOOM!
With a flick of my Armored Colossus’ massive arm, I tapped the ground lightly. The resulting quake sent fissures racing across the floor and silenced every objection in an instant. The defiant group transformed almost magically into the picture of politeness.
"My apologies for my earlier rudeness. Clearly, I was mistaken."
"We’ll reconsider. Thank you for your advice."
"Yes, yes. No rush. We’ll think it over carefully."
With one effortless display of power, their attitudes did a 180-degree turn. I couldn’t help but smirk. Who needs diplomacy when a little theatrics do the job?
Just as I was dusting off my hands, a soft voice chimed in hesitantly behind me. It was Pero, the one who had dubbed me “the Destroyer.”
"Um... was that... the right way to handle it?"
I turned to meet his uncertain gaze.
"It’s not the standard method."
Normally, I’d be powerless in this scenario. Trapped in my weaker form, I’d have had to rely on wits and persuasion to keep these fools from throwing themselves into their doom. After all, desperation drove them to this point—desperation fueled by a lack of hope.
But with power at my disposal, I saw no need for subtleties. Why argue when a display of raw strength could achieve the same result?
"Listen," I continued. "I don’t like solving problems this way either, but time is of the essence here."
Pero, now looking somewhat resigned, muttered under his breath:
"Destroyer, indeed."
"From now on," I said, cutting off his train of thought, "call me the Creator."
With that, I got to work. I activated Dreaming Mirror: Partial Transformation and shifted only my arms back into their Colossus form. Using its reality-altering capabilities, I began transforming the barren sands into a sturdy bunker. By manipulating the base elements of the wasteland, the sand morphed into steel, while captured mutant creatures provided the organic material needed for insulation.
In mere moments, a formidable sanctuary stood tall. A true Paradise amidst the desolation.
"Behold, your refuge. A place where you don’t have to risk your lives chasing illusions."
The group of wayfarers gawked, their earlier defiance dissolving into a mix of awe and disbelief. Even the previously defiant Rearo, their self-appointed leader, appeared to glitch—his movements erratic as his NPC logic struggled to reconcile the presence of a real refuge with his programmed script.
"Paradise... found...? Ugh...!” Rearo’s voice distorted as his role fell apart.
Even the followers who had been zealously clinging to his vision of Paradise looked confused. For a moment, they stared blankly at the bunker I had conjured. Then, like a switch flipping, they lunged at me in a sudden outburst of violence.
"What gives you the right to stop us!?"
"You think this is enough to satisfy us?!"
"Gigik... giik. Get lost!"
The whole group began clawing and kicking at me with wild abandon. Pero gasped in horror, his face pale as he stammered out,
"L-Lord Creator! Are you alright?"
I waved off his concern.
"Do I look like I’m bothered?"
Despite their best efforts, their attacks barely tickled. My Colossus body retained its durability, even in this scaled-down form. I stood unflinching, enduring their onslaught with sheer indifference.
Then, with a gentle chime, a golden door appeared nearby, shimmering with ethereal light. Floor 4 cleared.
Pero watched the unfolding events with a mix of resignation and awe, muttering to himself:
"I suppose... in the end, strength is everything."
"Strength makes things easier, sure," I said, turning to him. "But now it’s your turn. I’ll leave some resources behind—you’re going to work with these people to expand this world and secure it. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Pero nodded, though his tone suggested mild dismay.
With that settled, I created a tank of Colossus matter and some spray guns to help Pero and the others coat the area. He picked one up and tested it, firing a glob of white, sticky material into the ground. He frowned, turning back to me.
"Why exactly are we spraying this stuff everywhere? It’s... kind of gross, honestly."
"It’s necessary to secure this world. The ‘Wicked Witch’ has taken Yuna to the top of the tower. To fight her, I need this place under my control."
Pero seemed to understand—or at least stopped questioning it—until he pointed toward a massive sand dune in the distance.
"Um, is that... part of the plan too?"
I turned to see an enormous dune—nearly a third the size of my Colossus —being steadily carved away. Pieces of sand lifted into the air as if by an invisible force, vanishing into nothingness.
"...No way. That sly mirror witch."
It was clear now. Mirror Yuna had started reclaiming resources to counter my growing influence. She wasn’t just sitting idly while I fortified this floor—she was pulling the rug out from under me.
"Alright, Pero. Grab your spray gun and follow me. Let’s make sure this floor stays mine."
"O-On it!"
Together, we began a tug-of-war over control of the floor, the battle for dominance ramping up yet again.
++++
While flying through the air in my colossal monster form, I spread my gelatinous ooze, expanding my domain. The ooze clung to the ground as I slid across the terrain, leaving trails behind.
At the same time, Mirror Yuna intensified her efforts. Structures like steel frames and even cacti were pulled into the void and vanished without a trace.
Both the ooze and the void were pure white, painting the world in an ever-bleaching monochrome. In a way, it felt more apocalyptic than any other catastrophe. After all, isn’t it said that locking someone in a white room can drive them insane?
This "overpainting" process was monotonous manual labor, and Pero, armed with her water gun, spoke to me mechanically—about her love troubles.
"...You know I’ve been secretly in love with the princess, don’t you...?"
"Of course."
"Well, uh... The thing is, the princess doesn’t see me that way. I keep thinking about it every night. Should I just... give up on these feelings?"
"There’s a girl I know who once said she couldn’t give up on love, even if it hurt her. But why bring this up now? Isn’t there a whole bunker full of people who could give you better advice than me?"
Pero glanced around the bleached world with a peculiar expression.
"...This floor is about that, isn’t it? The kind of 'hope' that kills you as soon as you choose it... and the wanderers who are enchanted by it. I was wondering what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come."
"And? What’s your conclusion?"
"If you hadn’t created the bunker in an instant... then for them, the only hope left would’ve been the fake one that ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Realo presented. Even if they didn’t fall for Realo’s lies, their lives wouldn’t have improved."
Lives destined for destruction and death.
A poisoned apple, covertly offered in the midst of such miserable, hopeless existence.
"People who don’t realize that the 'hope' is fake... I think they should be stopped. But what about those who know it’s fake and still choose it? If they knowingly accept it, do I... even have the right to stop them?"
"......"
"Is there such a thing as 'hope' that should be abandoned...?"
To know that "love" would only end in heartbreak, yet still declare a willingness to endure it.
To know that "hope" would lead only to death, yet resolve to embrace it because it’s the only reason left to live.
The two notions bore an eerie resemblance, leaving Pero caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty.
I thought for a moment before answering.
"...I don’t know what’s right or wrong. But I think I understand how to approach the question."
"How?"
"In the end, it’s up to each person to decide for themselves."
Standards of right and wrong vary wildly, shift depending on circumstances, and aren’t clearly defined. There’s no absolute justification for ending someone’s escape into delusion.
That’s why making choices is difficult. All sorts of variables blur the path.
"You, me, everyone—we all stand at crossroads, forced to choose. There’ll be gains and losses, stress and joy, and sometimes even conflict with others."
"......"
"But if you add up all those arrows pointing in different directions... your heart will inevitably converge on a single path. So the question isn’t whether such a thing as 'hope that must be abandoned' exists."
It’s whether I can accept that "hope" or not.
"...And? Could you accept it?"
"No. Walking knowingly into certain death—it’s such a miserable way to die. I can’t accept that. No matter what the person says, I’d stop them. I believe that’s the path to a happy ending for everyone."
That’s how I’ve always lived.
I’ve changed the hearts of princes and princesses, reformed dark mages, given assassins a second chance, helped a boy grow, freed knights from their burdens, and thrown myself into peril for the sake of someone I love.
This time is no different.
After I land a flick on Mirror Yuna’s forehead, I’ll shatter her dreary dream of "living happily in a world without the ones she loves." Then, I’ll bring Yuna back into my arms.
Because.
++++
Smack!
Punches and kicks rained down relentlessly. The girl’s delicate skin quickly bruised, her lips split open, and a stream of blood trickled from her nose. Rolling across the floor under the onslaught, she groaned but pushed herself up again.
This cycle had repeated for ten hours now. Even the children doling out the violence were panting, exhausted from their own brutality.
The children, desperate to embark on their doomed escape, screamed in frustration.
"Move! There’s only ten minutes left!"
"No, I won’t. No one... is getting past this door!"
"We know! We know it’s a trap! But we might actually escape through it... If I’m willing to throw away my life, why do you keep interfering?!"
"......"
The girl wiped her bloody nose with her sleeve, brushed away her tears, and once again blocked their way, arms outstretched.
Why? Why was she doing this? Why did she insist on emphasizing unity to these children, defying the mages of the Violet Tower, and saving the lives of others, even though she had been unjustly accused?
Why?
"Because..."
The girl shouted.
"...I believe this is the right thing to do!"
"......"
Her words made the children flinch. There was something inexplicable in her voice... a strength that struck a chord. She radiated determination and courage.
Even so, one of the more hotheaded children, enraged by the idea of being bested by this small, fragile girl, snarled in fury.
"Then I’ll kill you if I have to! If you don’t move, I’ll kill you—!!"
"Guh, keugh...!"
He shoved her to the ground and straddled her, wrapping his hands tightly around her slender neck. Her face rapidly drained of color, turning a sickly pallor like that of a corpse.
The girl’s eyes began to glaze over as the lack of oxygen consumed her. She was on the brink of death.
Smack!
The boy choking her collapsed, unconscious, knocked out by a chair swung from behind. The girl coughed violently, gasping for air as she clung to life.
Through tear-blurred eyes, she looked up. Standing there was another girl, boldly gripping the chair she’d just used as a weapon.
"You idiot. It’s bad enough trying to protect your own life, and here you are pulling this heroic nonsense. You’re not going to live long if you keep this up."
"Cough... cough... Alice?"
"Thanks to you, my cover’s blown. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep up that act? Memorizing verses about the ‘Black Wings’ and all that nonsense? I had them fooled until now..."
It was in that moment that Yuna Yurensto made her first friend.