Nigel rushed forward, reaching the entrance as quickly as his unsteady legs would allow. The wooden door was old, worn by time, its surface cracked and splintered from years—or centuries?—of neglect.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  The moment he crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut behind him with such force that the entire wall shuddered.

  Then, silence.

  The house smelled of moisture and decay. Its walls, once covered in gray paint, were now peeling away in ragged strips, revealing the bare surface beneath. From the ceiling, a thick, unidentifiable liquid dripped steadily, pooling into dark stains on the floor.

  And yet—

  Despite its eerie, abandoned state, something about this place felt… safe. Familiar even.

  The dim, source-less light that illuminated the room was the same as outside, and yet within these walls, he felt a barrier between himself and the thing that had been chasing him.

  Nigel let out a slow breath, steadying his heartbeat.

  Then— A shadow at the window.

  His body tensed.

  The entity stood motionless just beyond the glass, its twin white eyes burning through the darkness, watching. Unmoving. Unblinking.

  It made no attempt to enter. Almost as if it wasn’t allowed to.

  “Interesting.”

  A voice.

  Nigel spun so fast his vision swam, his heart leaping to his throat.

  For a split second, his mind braced for another monster— another of those things.

  And in some ways, he wasn’t wrong.

  Before him stood a figure, similar to the being outside—its body composed of shifting black smoke, yet distinctly more human in shape. Its facial features were sharper, more defined, as if molded to resemble a person rather than a formless nightmare.

  And unlike the thing outside, this one… smiled.

  “Don’t worry,” the figure said, tilting its head slightly. “I’m not like him. Not entirely, at least.”

  The voice felt… familiar.

  Not in a way Nigel could place, but in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

  Like déjà vu, like the echo of a dream long forgotten.

  The figure took a casual step forward. “You can call me Alex the Traveler. A pleasure.”

  Nigel hesitated, his mind still trying to catch up with everything that was happening.

  “Where… where am I?” he asked, and this time—his voice worked.

  Alex gave a small, satisfied nod. “You’re in the Mind Realm,” he explained. “And this house? It’s a Convergence Point.”

  Nigel blinked. “The mind… what?”

  “The Mind Realm. A dimension that connects every living being in the universe at a level far deeper than normal consciousness.”

  The words should have sounded impossible, but something about the way Alex spoke made them feel… absolute.

  “Normally, people can’t reach this place,” Alex continued. “When you sleep, your dreams exist on a shallow level—just flickers of thoughts, memories, and emotions. The Mind Realm lies beneath all that, within the collective subconscious of the universe itself.”

  Nigel’s head throbbed. “And I got here… how?”

  “Havok sent you to sleep, didn’t he?”

  “I… think so?” Nigel rubbed his temples. “Everything’s still a mess. My head won’t stop pounding.”

  Alex laughed lightly, his voice carrying an almost amused warmth.

  “It’s your first time here. Makes sense.”

  Then, in a way that felt almost rehearsed, Alex gestured as he explained, like someone who had given this lecture many times before—and, in a way, enjoyed it.

  “The bed you slept in was a Convergent Vessel,” he said. “An object that was extracted from the Mind Realm and placed in reality. Because of that, it has the ability to pull your mind here.”

  Nigel exhaled slowly, trying to process it all. “Alright… and this house? The Convergence Point?”

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  “A fixed location,” Alex answered smoothly. “A place that exists here, but also near reality—a bridge between both worlds.”

  He crossed his arms, the shadows shifting slightly around his form as he did.

  “You know, I quite like explaining these things to newcomers,” he mused, his voice carrying the hint of a smile.

  Nigel stared at him, and again—that feeling.

  That strange, unshakable familiarity. He had never met this person, and yet, something about him felt… known.

  "Alright," Nigel exhaled. "So why did Havok send me here in the first place?"

  Alex leaned casually against the crumbling wall, watching him with that same amused, knowing expression.

  "It’s a test," he explained. "Havok saw something in you. And he was right. First, you woke up in the Dark Forest, then made it to the Plains, and—more impressively—you used your mental strength to reach this place."

  He tilted his head slightly, studying Nigel. "You know, that’s not easy. This isn’t a lucid dream—you’re not in control here. In fact, it’s not even your dream."

  Nigel frowned. "So what, every captain picks someone for this trial?"

  "More or less," Alex shrugged. "Every ship you saw when you entered the Second Stage? Each captain had to select at least one participant to send here."

  "For what purpose?" Nigel asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

  Alex smiled. "For this."

  He reached into the folds of his smoky form and pulled out a small, aged piece of paper, handing it to Nigel.

  Nigel glanced down and squinted. "...Umibōzu?"

  The word meant nothing to him.

  "What is this?"

  Alex’s smile widened. "Something very important if you want to make it to Hizuru in one piece."

  Nigel's fingers tightened around the slip of paper. "And why?"

  "You’ll find out," Alex said, his tone playful yet distant. "That is, if you remember."

  Nigel narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean if I remember?"

  "When you wake up, you won’t recall anything that happened here. No memories, no conversations, no details. But..." Alex tapped his own temple. "If you’re strong enough, your instincts will guide you."

  Nigel exhaled sharply, feeling his patience wear thin. "That’s ridiculously vague."

  "Welcome to the Chaos Tournament," Alex chuckled. "It’s all part of the fun."

  Then, he gestured for Nigel to follow.

  "Come. There’s one last thing before you go."

  They moved through a series of identical rooms, each one a mirror image of the last—gray walls, peeling paint, dripping ceilings. It felt endless, repeating, as if they were walking in circles.

  Until they stopped.

  A wide chamber opened before them.

  At the far end stood two large openings.

  One led into darkness, a hallway so black it seemed to swallow the light around it.

  The other was... something else entirely.

  Nigel's gaze flickered to the opposite wall, where a third opening sat—narrow, almost hidden, tucked away like something that wasn’t meant to be found.

  Beyond it, a staircase spiraled downward into nothingness.

  The moment his eyes landed on it, a wave of dread crawled up his spine.

  Something primal in his mind recoiled.

  Something whispered that he should never, ever go down those steps.

  "...What is that?" Nigel asked, barely above a whisper.

  Alex, who had been smiling this entire time, stiffened.

  His expression darkened in an instant, and when he spoke, his voice lacked its usual warmth.

  "You should never try to go deeper than this."

  Nigel turned to look at him, but Alex's gaze remained locked on the staircase, as if simply looking at it brought unease.

  "It’s not a place meant for you," he continued, his tone lower, almost strained. "Nothing good exists beyond that point."

  Nigel swallowed.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the way Alex’s demeanor had changed, or the sheer wrongness of the staircase itself—but he didn’t ask any further.

  "...Fine," Nigel muttered. "Then how do I leave?"

  Alex's smile returned, though this time it felt... off.

  "That’s easy," he said lightly. "You just have to die."

  Nigel stared.

  "...Excuse me?"

  Alex laughed at his reaction, crossing his arms. "What, did you think you’d just walk out the front door?"

  Nigel let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "So what, I just step outside and let that thing tear me apart?"

  Alex's smile immediately dropped.

  "No."

  His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

  "If that thing gets you, it won’t just kill you," Alex said, his tone firm. "It’ll steal your mind. And eventually, it will find its way to your body."

  A chill rippled through Nigel’s chest.

  "...So what’s the alternative?"

  Alex sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Well, that’s the unfortunate part." He cracked his knuckles.

  "I have to kill you."

  Nigel let out a slow breath.

  Of course.

  He should have expected that.

  He glanced at Alex, who—despite his usual casual nature—looked... hesitant.

  Like this wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed doing.

  "...You’ve done this before, haven’t you?" Nigel asked.

  Alex’s expression didn’t change.

  But something flickered in his eyes.

  "More times than I can count."

  Nigel felt a strange tugging sensation in his chest.

  The same odd familiarity that had been bothering him since they met.

  Who are you?

  But the words never left his lips. Instead, he sighed.

  "Fine," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Go on, then."

  Alex tilted his head. "Not gonna fight it?"

  "Will it make a difference?"

  Alex smirked. "No."

  Nigel huffed. "Then just get it over with."

  For the first time, Alex hesitated. And after a moment, he stepped forward.

  "...Until next time, Nigel."

  Everything went black.

  Nigel's eyes snapped open.

  The wooden ceiling above him was the first thing he saw. For a moment, his mind was blank. Then, a wave of relief settled over him, like a weight had been lifted.

  His body felt light. Strong. Awake.

  All the exhaustion and fatigue from before was gone. In fact, he felt... refreshed. Rejuvenated.

  And yet, something was off.

  He couldn’t explain it. A feeling lingered in his chest.

  Like he had been somewhere else. Like something had happened. But when he tried to remember— there was nothing.

  Just a whisper of instinct.

  Nothing more.

  When Nigel stepped out of the cabins and onto the deck, he spotted Dovak. The man was hauling a massive crate of supplies, his movements slower than usual.

  “You had a nice dream, huh, buddy?” Dovak’s voice was rough, edged with exhaustion. “You’ve been out for almost thirteen hours. The battle’s still going, and honestly? Looks like we’re about to lose.”

  He looked drained. The usual energy—the cocky grin, the easy confidence—was gone. In its place, a worn-out face, deep shadows under his eyes.

  “Thirteen hours?” Nigel muttered. His mind still felt hazy. “Felt like minutes.”

  “At least you look recovered. Come on, extra hands won’t hurt.”

  Dovak shifted the crate and started toward the upper deck. Nigel followed.

  The storm hadn’t let up. Thunder cracked through the sky every few seconds, lightning splitting the darkness. The waves were just as vicious as before.

  The number of ships hadn’t gone down at all. If anything, there were more.

  Above, the counter in the sky had already reached the millions.

  And just as Havok was approaching Nigel, a thunderous explosion hit the right side of the ship, making almost everyone fall to their knees.

  Nigel quickly scanned the deck and remembered an important detail.

  Nyx and Sam were not there.