"Then test me," Leon replied. "See if I fall."

The other Sovereigns stirred at that—some amused, others irritated.

But the woman simply smiled.

"Not yet. Not here."

She gestured, and a ripple passed through the air. A new platform formed—larger than the last. At its center, a gate stood. Unlike others, this one pulsed faintly with a prismatic hue, like layered reflections folded into each other.

"This is the entrance to the Tri-Mirror Floor," she said. "Three realms. Three reflections. Each one reveals not what you are… but what the Tower thinks you could become."

Roselia stepped closer. "Illusions?"

The Sovereign shook her head. "No. Possibilities. Dangerous ones. If he breaks in any of them, he loses the right to challenge further."

Leon didn't hesitate. He moved toward the platform.

Roman muttered, "Every time we think the Tower's thrown its worst at us…"

Milim smirked. "It gets more fun."

Naval stepped beside Leon. "You want us with you?"

Leon looked at the gate, then shook his head. "Not this time. I have to face this alone."

Kael nodded. "We'll hold position. But come back standing."

Leon didn't reply.

He stepped into the gate.

And the world twisted.

—---

The first mirror dropped him into a battlefield.

Not metaphorical.

Real.

Explosions tore across a ruined plain, where armored figures clashed in brutal combat. In the distance, a massive banner bearing his own symbol waved over a fortress.

Here… he was a warlord.

Commands echoed from soldiers who called him High Commander Aetheren. He saw versions of Roselia, Naval, and the others—changed. Hardened. Loyal, but grim. Every victory had come at cost. Every decision soaked in blood.

A warlord who had climbed… but lost pieces of himself along the way.

Leon clenched his fists.

This wasn't him. Not all of him.

The mirror trembled—then cracked.

—---

The second mirror swallowed him next.

This time, silence.

A palace.

Marble. Gold. Velvet. Dozens of attendants waiting on his word. He stood at the center, clad in robes of light, surrounded by nobility. Peace reigned. Harmony. Order.

He had won the Tower.

But not by fighting.

By surrendering.

This Leon hadn't shed blood. He had compromised. Negotiated. Played politics until the Tower reshaped itself around him.

He was king.

But the fire in his eyes was gone.

The mirror shuddered—and shattered.

—---

The third mirror greeted him with nothing.

Just a reflection.

Leon, alone, on the edge of a broken floor. No allies. No enemies. Just him—older, stronger, colder.

A version that had let everyone else go.

He had reached the highest floors.

But no one waited for him.

He stood at the top—but without meaning.

This one hurt the most.

Because it almost made sense.

Leon stepped toward the reflection. His mirrored self did the same.

They stared at each other for a long time.

Then Leon said, quietly, "That's not how this ends."

And the mirror fell apart.

—---

He emerged from the gate not victorious—but intact.

The Sovereigns watched.

One by one, they turned away.

But the woman on the fifteenth throne gave him a nod. Not approval. Not praise.

Recognition.

"You didn't break," she said.

"No," Leon replied. "I don't break."

"Then climb."

And with a wave of her hand, the gate to Floor 540 opened.

The gate to Floor 540 wasn't ornate.

It was simple—black stone rimmed with silver, standing alone at the edge of a floating stair that led upward into a stormcloud sky. There was no inscription, no system prompt. Just a quiet hum of energy that throbbed like a heartbeat.

Leon stood in front of it for a moment. His breath was steady. His eyes, sharper now than ever, held no hesitation.

Behind him, his team gathered.

"You're going alone again, aren't you?" Roselia asked.

He nodded.

"This one feels different," Naval muttered. "Like something… old is watching."

"It is," Milim said, her smile more serious than usual. "Something older than the Tower's floors."

Kael folded his arms. "Should we prepare?"

"No," Leon said. "Not yet. If I fail here, preparing won't matter. And if I pass—then we all go together."

Roman clapped his hands once. "Guess we'll be watching the stars while you're out making enemies again."

Leon allowed a faint smirk.

Then he stepped through.

—

Floor 540 – The Silent Throne

The world warped.

He appeared in a vast, circular chamber open to a starless sky. Wind howled through shattered archways. Pillars crumbled in slow motion, pieces of stone drifting in the air like forgotten memories.

At the center of the floor was a throne.

Not a Tower throne. Not a Sovereign's seat.

This one was broken.

Fractured straight down the middle.

Shards of it hovered in the air, suspended by golden strings of mana, like someone had tried to hold it together with sheer will.

A figure stood before it.

Tall. Straight-backed. His cloak was made of faded banners stitched together, every color representing a different era. His face was hidden behind a cracked mask of silver and red.

He didn't move.

Didn't speak.

But Leon felt it.

Recognition.

This was no ordinary foe. No rival claimant.

This was a former Thronebearer. One who had ruled not a floor, but the Tower's laws for a time.

He had fallen.

But he had not left.

Leon stepped forward.

The ground didn't shift. There was no dramatic entrance. Just silence and wind.

Then the system finally spoke:

[You are facing: The Last Oathkeeper]

Rank: Unknown

Status: Sealed by Self-Command

Trial Type: Judgmental Duel

Conditions: Win, or become bound by the Oath yourself

Warning: No retreat allowed

The Oathkeeper raised one hand.

A greatsword formed from the air itself—its edges layered in unspoken runes, shimmering with something beyond mana.

Leon's grip tightened.

This wasn't like Bal'Azhur or Vireus.

This was someone who had climbed, ruled, lost, and stayed.

To fight someone like this, Leon knew what was required.

He didn't activate Shell Reverb.

He didn't draw his weapon.

Not yet.

Instead, he spoke.

"I'm not here to claim your throne."

The Oathkeeper tilted his head slightly.

"I'm here to make sure no one like you is left behind again."

For the first time, the figure moved—not with violence, but with purpose. He took one step forward. The ground responded with a chime, like the toll of a bell deep within the Tower's heart.

Then the blade came down.

Leon barely dodged. Not because he was slow—but because the strike bent space itself. The blade hadn't just come at him—it had appeared within the path he would have taken.

Reality distorted. Spot an error? Visit the original post on M&VLEMPY&R.

The Tower watched.

Leon responded by finally drawing his own sword—burning with Echo of Origin and laced with Fracture Requiem. He didn't match the Oathkeeper blow for blow. He flowed. Shifted. He adapted.

Time fractured.

Energy cracked.

Each clash wasn't just power—it was memory, law, oath.

Leon felt it: the Oathkeeper's strength came from what he had promised, and what he had lost.

So Leon did what he always did best.

He listened.

Not with his ears—but with his will.

And at the peak of the duel, just as their blades locked mid-air, he spoke one word:

"Release."

The Oathkeeper froze.

Leon pulsed Karmic Loop not to reflect force—but to reflect feeling.

The burden. The regret. The years of guarding a broken law no one remembered.

He let the Oathkeeper see himself.

And that was what shattered the trial.

Not strength.

Recognition.

—

The throne behind the Oathkeeper began to dissolve.

The golden strings unspooled.

The figure stepped back, slowly lowering his blade.

His mask cracked apart, revealing a young face. Tired. Grateful.

And fading.

Leon didn't speak. He didn't need to.

The Tower did it for him.

[Trial Complete – The Last Oathkeeper is freed]

New Title Gained: Bearer of Forgotten Promises

Access Granted: True Upper Tower Layer – Tier Beyond Sovereigns

Floor 541 Unlocked

As the chamber faded, and the wind began to rise again, Leon turned and faced the path ahead.

No throne waited.

No reward.

Just another step.

But this one…

This one meant something.

He walked into the next floor alone.

But not forgotten.

Not ever again.