The corridor hadn't existed a second ago.
Ayan blinked—
And it was there.
Long. Narrow. Endless.
The walls pulsed like something alive, veins running through black stone, glowing a faint,
sick red. The air felt thick, heavy—each
breath dragging through his lungs like he was drowning on dry land.
The Watcher stood still.
That alone was wrong.
Ayan's eyes narrowed.
"Why did it stop…?"
No response.
Then—
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound echoed unnaturally loud.
Ayan looked down.
Blood.
Not his.
Footprints stretched ahead, dark and wet, leading deeper into the corridor.
Fresh.
His throat tightened. "…Someone's here."
"Don't follow."
The whisper slid across the walls.
Not loud. Not soft.
Just… everywhere.
The Watcher's head twitched sharply, like it heard it too.
Ayan let out a quiet breath.
"…Like I have a choice."
He stepped forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The footprints didn't fade.
They grew darker.
Thicker.
As if whoever made them wasn't just walking—
But being dragged.
Halfway through—
The walls shifted.
Ayan stopped.
Faces.
Dozens—no, hundreds—pressed into the stone.
Eyes open.
Mouths frozen mid-scream.
His pulse spiked. "This again…"
One face moved.
Its eyes rolled—
And locked onto him.
Lips trembled.
"Turn back."
Ayan took a step back instinctively.
The corridor groaned.
Too late.
The ground cracked beneath him.
A circle of light burst open under his feet—pure white, blinding against the red walls.
Symbols appeared inside it.
An Eye.
A Key.
A Door.
The voice returned.
Closer.
Clearer.
"Trial 3: The Price of Seeing."
"Choose what you keep."
Ayan frowned. "Keep… what?"
No answer.
Of course.
Nothing in this game ever explained itself.
The Watcher suddenly moved.
Fast.
It slammed into the edge of the glowing circle—like hitting an invisible wall.
Again.
And again.
It wasn't trying to attack.
It was trying to reach him.
Or stop him.
The Eye symbol flickered.
Ayan's vision snapped—
A flash.
He saw it.
The exit.
Right there.
A door at the end of a clean hallway.
No blood. No faces.
Freedom.
His body leaned forward on instinct—
Then he stopped.
"…No."
Too easy.
This game doesn't reward easy.
It punishes it.
The Key began to glow.
Another vision hit.
A locked gate.
Massive. Rusted.
Behind it—
Something important.
Something real.
Answers.
Truth.
Or something worse.
Then—
The Door.
No vision.
No hint.
Just darkness.
Ayan clenched his jaw.
"No info means risk."
But also—
"No illusion."
Behind him—
CRACK.
The corridor began collapsing.
The faces in the walls started screaming—silent at first, then louder, distorted,
overlapping until it felt like his head would split open.
The space was shrinking.
Fast.
Time was gone.
The Watcher froze.
For the first time—
It wasn't terrifying.
It felt urgent.
Warning him.
Ayan exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
"One gamble."
He stepped forward—
And pressed his hand against—
The Door.
Everything disappeared.
Instantly.
No light.
No sound.
No ground.
No Watcher.
Nothing.
Ayan couldn't feel his body.
Couldn't hear his own breathing.
Just darkness.
Endless.
Heavy.
Then—
A voice.
Right behind him.
So close it felt like it was inside his head.
"Wrong choice."
Ayan's eyes widened.
Cold fingers gripped his shoulder.
Not human.
Too long.
Too still.
He tried to turn—
But his body wouldn't move.
In the darkness—
Something leaned closer.
He couldn't see it.
But he felt it.
A presence.
Smiling.
Then—
Pain.
A sharp, burning sensation behind his eyes.
Like something was being taken.
Ripped out.
The voice whispered again—
"Sight… is not yours anymore."
Ayan screamed—
And the world came back.
He collapsed onto cold ground, gasping.
The corridor was gone.
The Watcher was gone.
Everything was gone.
Silence.
Ayan slowly lifted his head.
His vision blurred.
Dark at the edges.
Unstable.
Wrong.
"…What did you do to me…?"
No answer.
But deep inside—
He knew.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
End of Chapter 6