Demonic Skeleton God-Chapter 102: Top Floor

Since Flain was already looking at the description of Wave of Calm, he figured he might as well check the description of Transparent Wings too, as he hadn’t looked at it yet and was quite curious about the details of his creation.

[Name: Transparent Wings

Level: 10

Stage: 1

Type: Necrotic Spell

Consumption: Nothing

Description: The user forces a lost soul to connect with their body, creating large wings. The wings are invisible to everyone except the user. In order to subdue a lost soul, the user must be within half a kilometer of it. The user can silence the lost soul at any time.

Next Stage: You must upgrade the spell to a higher Stage manually]

Flain felt a satisfying sensation—after all that effort, he had created something like this. No one else in the world had this spell except for Flain; it was an amazing feeling.

The effect of Wave of Calm had long since worn off, so Flain was back to his usual mood. He didn’t want to waste too much time admiring his creation, as the 10th floor still awaited him.

So Flain began ascending the stairs to the 10th floor. His mind was fully focused, and his gaze completely cold.

Flain arrived at large doors. The doors before him opened into a spacious hall, where stone platforms of various shapes moved around.

Flain was a bit confused. Didn’t that old man say that the final floor would contain all the obstacles from the previous floors at once?

Flain didn’t recall any floor that had moving stone platforms of various shapes.

He stopped. He had to analyze the situation, because he doubted the 10th floor would be easy, and he didn’t want to fail needlessly. Flain considered the trial of time, but it didn’t feel quite right.

Flain estimated that each platform would take a new position every thirty seconds, as their subtle rhythmic grinding had a frequency similar to a metronome.

He waited silently, a false breath in his ribcage seeming to synchronize with the arrival of the perfect moment, and when the platform settled, he stepped across it in one smooth motion.

The next platform led him to a tri-directional mana pulse. A blue beam bent against a side wall and pulsed at a speed Flain calculated as nine pulses in six seconds. The green one — four in five.

The silver one — twelve in ten. These numbers were no coincidence: throughout the last nine floors, he had gathered so many small clues (pulse echoes, tiny sparks on walls) that he had learned to recognize the pattern instantly.

He thought with tactical calculation: if he caught the beams at the exact timing windows, they would merge into a single coherent stream.

So he spread his fingers into a spatial triangle to catch each beam at its origin, and subtly adjusted the intensity with the hand on his chest — a press two knuckles deeper, finger length a few millimeters shorter. And indeed, the light unified.

The merged beam began to rise steadily, but he immediately sensed that space-time within the vast hall was shifting unevenly.

Time flowed one and a half times faster than normal for the first twelve seconds, then slowed to seventy percent of its usual pace.

Flain had partially forgotten, but when he noticed the rainbow light around the ceiling seats changing hue, he knew it was time to switch modes. He began slowing his gesture so that the blue beam would lose its initial surge and flow in symmetry with the green and silver ones.

When a quiet *click* of their mutual stability finally echoed, he stopped the flow and stood on a stable stone platform.

In front of him stretched a dark crystalline altar, oval in shape with a skull relief, almost as tall as he was.

Flain pulled a thin metal wire from his uniform — a connection between the hall and his own nimble intelligence.

He spotted a small panel with a schematic of three lines — one for each beam — and knew he had to use a single, precisely measured discharge.

If it exceeded by even a tenth, the wire would overload and snap; if it fell short by even a tenth, the capacity crystal would remain inactive. He deduced this from the frequency the altar emitted; without absolute perception of the frequencies, he wouldn’t have known what to do.

He prepared: spread his fingers, compressed the mana pulse into his palm, opened the dagger of his mind to the level of calculation. He released the impulse as precise as a surgical incision — not a powerful blast, but a compressed wavefront that spread evenly, making the entire hall tremble.

The moment the energy struck the altar, its relief shifted subtly, as if the skull had puffed outward. Flain felt the power reflecting back at him; instinctively, he released a mana pulse in return — sending it out in a three-second frequency to balance the crystal’s rhythm. On the mental measuring device, the transfer was recorded in microseconds, yet he knew it hadn’t taken more than twenty seconds.

Once the wavefront stabilized, the entire altar lit up with a bright white light and then fell silent. Flain didn’t look at the points, but at his own hand — where a crystal shard now rested. Without a trace of emotion, he placed it onto the statue.

He remained extremely focused, because he had a strange feeling that this wasn’t the end of the tower. It had been quite difficult, but the fifth floor had still been harder. Also, he hadn’t been teleported anywhere yet — he was just standing there.

Ghosty was watching him from a distance, and Flain had ordered him to report anything important immediately. But for now, Flain’s mind had to do all the work.

Flain didn’t linger his gaze on the glowing altar, nor did he examine what exactly had been activated. His mind was entirely focused on everything around him. He walked slowly through the hall, his steps still quiet and measured, yet inside his mind worked like a machine, evaluating dozens of possibilities every second.

Flain’s eyes widened slightly when something surprised him — the space changed. The entire hall disintegrated like an illusion — not dramatically, not with light and fire, but suddenly and absolutely. He found himself in a void. Nothingness.

No walls, the floor seemed to vanish, and yet he wasn’t floating. He had firm contact with the ground, even though he couldn’t see it. Flain hadn’t expected this, so it caught him off guard — but only for a few moments. He had long since become used to things like this...

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