He lay back, hands behind his head, gazing up at the stars that slowly began to appear above. They weren't the constellations he knew, but they were no less beautiful.

Tomorrow, the climb would continue.

Morning broke gently on the sixth floor.

The sunlight filtered through the canopy of tall, dreamlike trees, casting golden beams across the grass, flowers, and dew-speckled leaves. A soft breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming petals and moss, rustling the branches in a lullaby-like whisper.

Noah opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at the soft blue of the sky above. The fire from last night had long since gone out, leaving only the warmth of the rising sun to greet him. Birds—or what passed for birds here—sang light, melodic tunes nearby, their iridescent wings fluttering like stained glass.

For a moment, he just lay there, breathing in the morning air.

But rest didn't mean idleness.

After a quick stretch, Noah stood and retrieved Nemesis, his blade gleaming faintly in the sunlight. He moved to a shaded clearing surrounded by flowering trees and began his daily routine—his training.

The morning was filled with the rhythm of motion.

Each swing of his sword was deliberate and sharp, cutting through the air with precision. Without the need to defend himself against monsters or spells, Noah could focus entirely on refining form, footwork, and breath. Sweat formed quickly on his brow, and soon his muscles were burning—a satisfying, familiar burn.

He moved into a series of complex movements, blending combat stances with footwork drills, then launched into a round of endurance sprints around the nearby grove. The ground beneath him was soft but firm, perfect for traction. He didn't stop until his body protested and his breathing grew ragged.

Only then did he pause.

Noah sat cross-legged in the grass, catching his breath. He placed the mysterious egg before him.

Golden, with swirling black stripes, it still pulsed faintly—almost like a heartbeat syncing with his own. He could feel the connection growing stronger by the day, subtle and steady. Channeling his mana into it had become a habit, almost a ritual. It responded, drinking in his energy with quiet hunger, yet never overwhelming him.

"Still not hatched," he murmured, feeding it another pulse of his mana. "But I feel like you're listening."

There was no reply, of course, but a soft flicker of light shimmered through one of the black lines as if in acknowledgment. Noah narrowed his eyes, curiosity stirring in his chest. The egg didn't just consume his mana—it responded. It adapted. It remembered.

Satisfied with the morning's training, he tucked the egg away and turned his attention to the rest of the floor. He hadn't explored everything yet—and this world was far too beautiful to ignore.

The sixth floor, as he came to learn, wasn't just peaceful—it was alive.

There were entire fields of rare herbs and glowing mushrooms tucked beneath shade-covered groves. Some plants shimmered with soft blue hues, others radiated faint heat, clearly magical in origin. Noah collected several, making note of their properties for future alchemy or crafting. One tree even grew fruit that faintly boosted his mana regeneration after eating it—he marked that spot carefully.

Further in, he discovered a tranquil spring hidden behind a veil of vines. The water was crystal clear, and the moment he dipped his hands into it, he felt a wave of relief flood through his tired body. It wasn't just cold water—it had healing properties. He took a full bath there, soaking until his bruises, even the deeper ones from his fight with the ogre, faded into nothing. His body emerged refreshed, his skin tingling with renewed energy.

The animals here were strange, but docile.

He passed a herd of white, horned deer with sapphire eyes that watched him but didn't flee. Tiny, floating creatures with wings like butterflies and bodies of shifting mist followed him curiously, disappearing when he turned to look directly at them. The entire floor radiated ancient, primal magic—wild and yet gentle.

Noah sat beneath a massive willow-like tree during the afternoon, its leaves a soft silver color. As he bit into another fruit, he reflected on how this floor was more than just a resting point. It was a reminder. A balance to the harshness of the climb. A sanctuary amidst the struggle.

"This... is what we fight for," he whispered to himself. "Places like this. Peace like this."

Even if just temporary, it had weight.

Later, as the sun dipped low in the sky and the air began to cool, Noah found himself seated at the lake once more. He practiced breathing techniques taught to him by his old master—how to align the flow of mana with his body's natural rhythm. The egg, resting beside him, pulsed in time, as if meditating alongside him.

The sky darkened to a deep orange, then violet, and finally, stars bloomed overhead like scattered diamonds. Unlike other dungeon floors, there were no artificial barriers here, no visible ceiling. The illusion was flawless, and for all Noah knew, this might as well have been another world entirely.

Fireflies danced around him again. This time, he didn't shoo them away. He watched them glow in spiraling patterns around the egg, drawn to it like moths to flame. Perhaps even the creatures here recognized the life forming inside it.

By the time he set up camp again, he had gathered a fresh batch of glowing fruit, a few magical herbs, and even stored a flask of water from the healing spring. As the fire crackled once more, he sat with the egg nestled beside him, wrapped in cloth.

He looked up at the night sky, peaceful and wide.

Tomorrow, he would leave this place. The seventh floor awaited—and with it, more trials, more bloodshed.

But tonight?

Tonight was for peace.

He closed his eyes with the quiet hum of insects and water in the distance, the stars watching over him, and the warmth of a mysterious egg close to his side—a silent promise of something wonderful yet to come.