A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

The courtroom formation instantly crumbled.

"Let's go!" Zhou Lang grabbed the key and led the team toward the entrance to the sixth floor.

The Arbiter's furious roar came from behind: "Chase after them!"

But the horde of ghosts entangled them, and by the time the court broke free, Zhou Lang had already led his team through the door to the sixth floor.

The door closed.

Zhao Qiang leaned against the wall, panting heavily: "Brother Lang, you really... you knew this would happen?"

Zhou Lang put the oil lamp away. The ghost inside had been used up; now it was an empty lamp.

"I didn't expect that," he said, "but you can always use things you have on you."

"You call this not anticipating this?" Zhao Qiang felt that his brain circuits might not be the same as Zhou Lang's.

Han Yingying didn't speak. She noticed that Zhou Lang's hand holding the lamp was trembling slightly at the fingertips. Using the oil lamp came at a price; Zhou Lang's release of so many spirits at once had greatly depleted his mental energy.

But he didn't mention anything.

"Take a ten-minute break," Zhou Lang said. "The sixth floor won't be easy."

The sixth floor.

The guards are no longer monsters.

Standing before them was a humanoid figure—or rather, a gigantic humanoid figure pieced together from countless human faces. It was three meters tall, and its body surface constantly displayed different faces, men and women, old and young, each with the same expression.

pain.

A system notification popped up: [Sixth Layer Guardian: Aggregate. Trait: Absorption. Kill Condition: Unknown.]

The conditions for killing the enemy are unknown.

This has never happened before in the first five floors.

Xiong Batian gripped his weapon tightly: "Want to use force?"

"Wait a minute," Zhou Lang stopped him.

The aggregate moved. Its speed was completely disproportionate to its size; its three-meter-tall body reached him in the blink of an eye. A hand slapped towards Lin Wan—

Su Ming pushed Lin Wan away and took a slap himself.

He didn't fly away.

He was stuck.

Su Ming's body was being absorbed by the aggregate's hand. Starting from the point of contact, his skin and muscles seemed to melt and flow towards the giant hand.

"Pull him out!" Zhou Lang rushed forward, his chainsaw slicing directly at the group's wrist.

The serrated edge cut in—but Zhou Lang stopped when it reached Su Ming's body. If he continued cutting, he would sever Su Ming as well.

Su Ming's face showed no particular expression. He looked down at his right half, which was melting away, and then looked up at Zhou Lang.

"Leave me alone, Captain."

"Shut up." Zhou Lang adjusted his angle, trying to find a point of entry that wouldn't hurt Su Ming.

That's too late.

Su Ming's body accelerated as he merged into the aggregate. In the last second, with his still-functioning left hand, he pulled a dagger from his waist and plunged it into the aggregate's chest.

The dagger pierced through it, and the aggregate swayed.

Su Ming disappeared. His face appeared on the surface of the aggregate's body, lined up with all the other faces of suffering.

Xiong Batian's eyes turned red, and he charged forward with a howl.

"Xiong Batian!" Zhou Lang called out to him.

It was no use. Xiong Batian's fist slammed into the aggregate, each punch carrying ferocity. But with each strike, his fist sank deeper. By the time he realized what was happening and tried to pull his hand away, it was too late.

Absorption has begun.

Xiong Batian struggled to turn his head and shouted his last words to Zhou Lang: "Kill a few more for me!"

Then he disappeared too.

Lin Wan stood there, her face deathly pale. She turned to run—but the collective's other hand reached out from behind and slapped her on the back.

The whole process took less than three seconds.

The team of six lost three members within a minute and a half.

Zhao Qiang's legs were trembling, but he stood in front of Han Yingying, shielding her behind him.

Zhou Lang didn't back down. He stared at the group—at the constantly changing faces. Su Ming's, Xiong Batian's, Lin Wan's, and many more he didn't recognize.

He noticed a detail.

The dagger that Su Ming plunged into was in the chest of the aggregate, and the face switching speed at that point was noticeably slower.

weakness.

"Zhao Qiang," Zhou Lang said, "could you buy me five seconds?"

Zhao Qiang swallowed hard: "What are you going to do in five seconds?"

"I'm going to use a chainsaw to cut that spot."

Zhao Qiang looked at the three-meter-tall human-faced monster, then at his own two legs that were shaking uncontrollably.

"Brother Lang, to be honest, I'm terrified right now."

"I know."

"But if you say five seconds, then it's five seconds." Zhao Qiang picked up the backpack Su Ming had left behind from the ground, swung it around twice, and hurled it at the group.

The group's attention was drawn to the backpack for less than two seconds—Zhao Qiang rushed up and kicked it again, then immediately bounced away.

Three seconds, four seconds—

Zhou Lang jumped up, the chainsaw started running at full speed, the serrated edges digging into the marks made by the dagger, tearing downwards.

The aggregate emitted a shriek that did not belong to any living being. Its body split open from the wound, and its faces peeled off and crumbled one by one.

The key rolled out of the crack.

The aggregate collapsed, turning into ashes scattered all over the ground.

But Su Ming, Xiong Batian, and Lin Wan—did not return.

Ashes are ashes, and no one rises from the ashes.

Zhao Qiang slumped to the ground, staring at the pile of ashes, without saying a word.

Han Yingying crouched down and picked up Su Ming's dagger from the ashes. The blade was still there, stained with black liquid.

Zhou Lang bent down to pick up the keys. When he held them in his hand, the cold metal hurt his palm.

Three lives for one key.

"Let's go," he said. "We can't let them die in vain."

The entrance to the seventh floor is different from the ones on the front.

It wasn't a door, but a curtain of water. Black liquid poured down from the dome, forming an opaque curtain from which nothing could be seen.

Zhao Qiang tugged at Zhou Lang's sleeve: "Brother Lang, you need to make this clear first, if something happens after we go in, my game account password is..."

"Don't say discouraging things," Zhou Lang interrupted him.

"I'm not discouraged, I'm preparing for the worst." Zhao Qiang's voice was low. "Su Ming, Xiong Batian, Lin Wan, they were all capable people, gone in an instant. You can't guarantee I won't be next."

Zhou Lang looked at him.

Zhao Qiang may be timid, but he never lets you down when it matters. That kick on the sixth floor was ugly and lacked any skill, but without those two seconds, the chainsaw wouldn't have been able to reach the weak point.

"You won't be the next one," Zhou Lang said.

Zhao Qiang pursed his lips, but his eyes were a little red.

The three of them walked side by side through the water curtain.

The black liquid, when poured over his body, didn't feel wet; instead, it felt like a film covering his entire body before quickly dissipating. Zhou Lang glanced down at his hands; tiny, shimmering patterns flashed across his skin.

He didn't have time to think it through.

Behind the water curtain was a scene of ruins.

It wasn't the ruins of a single building, but an entire city—dilapidated high-rises, overturned streetlights, and charred vehicles. The sky was purplish-red; there was neither sun nor moon, and the source of light seemed to be nowhere, casting a warm, decaying glow on everything.

"This isn't a game scene..." Han Yingying murmured.

She's right. Zhou Lang felt it too. No matter how terrifying the first six floors were, there was a sense that they were "designed"—the monsters had attack patterns, the rooms had fixed layouts, and everything followed some kind of game logic.

But the seventh floor is not there.