The leap was not natural. Between the 12th and the 70th Floor, something in the tower pulled them through — a tear in space, an impossible advance. Many who had been with them were left behind, unable to cross the veil. Only Lukas, Búdica, Luiz, the Valkyries, the Copas, Leli, Alenna, and a few seasoned veterans emerged together on the cold ground of that place.

  Silence was absolute. On the 70th Floor, the walls were no longer stone. They were bone — white, polished, fitted together like the ribs of a dead titan. The vault above pulsed with living shadows, as if it breathed. The air mixed incense with rot.

  The group advanced in formation: Luiz at the front, his smile tightened; Valquíria and the other Valkyries close behind; the Copas guarding the rear; Búdica walking at Lukas’s side; Alenna’s watchful gaze steady. Everyone knew — from this point forward, any mistake would be fatal.

  At the end of the corridor, a solitary throne. No figure seated. Only a presence… dense, crushing.

  “This isn’t like the other floors…” murmured Alenna, brow furrowed.

  Before anyone could answer, the darkness on the throne shifted. Bare footsteps echoed. A feminine silhouette took form: hair white as snow, long, flowing like smoke; a black dress dragging on the ground; violet eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

  Lukas was not surprised. He tightened his grip on the gladius. “You.”

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  Her smile was crooked, lazy, as if she had expected to be recognized. “Well, well… if it isn’t my favorite legionary. And with such company today…” Her gaze wandered slowly across the group, pausing on each face, tasting them.

  Luiz clenched his fists. “What do you want, witch?”

  Morgana didn’t even look at him. She took two more steps, her voice low, almost a shiver across their skin. “I want to see how far you go before you break, Lukas. And I want you to remember… this tower you climb is not the real one.”

  The group exchanged confused glances. Morgana’s smile widened, her canines flashing. “The true tower… lies within this one. Its name… is the Black Tower. And, ah… inside it, even the ground has teeth. A metaphor, if you understand.”

  Búdica gripped her weapon tighter, eyes locked on her. Alenna pressed her lips but stayed silent. The Copas shifted into defensive stance.

  Lukas kept his tone cold. “And why tell me this now? What’s your goal, harlot?”

  Morgana chuckled softly. “Don’t be like that, chocolatinho.”

  “Chocolatinho?” Lukas snapped, shouting: “Say it already! Why reveal this now? Stop with the mystery, shameless one!”

  “Because I want you to live long enough to see it,” Morgana replied, tilting her head almost childishly. “I want you to climb to the top… and when you find me again, perhaps I’ll ask you to kill me. Or…” she ran her tongue lightly over her lip, “perhaps I’ll ask for something much worse.”

  A shiver ran even through the veterans. Valquíria broke the tension with a mutter: “That woman is pure poison.”

  Luiz growled: “And if she wanted, we’d already be dead.”

  Morgana laughed — a sound sweet and dangerous. “That’s exactly what makes it fun.”

  In the blink of an eye, her body turned to smoke, dissipating into the air. The gate to the next floor groaned, slowly opening.

  Lukas spun the gladius in his hand and raised his shield. “Let’s go. The next floor awaits.”

  End of chapter 11