The second door had no symbol—only a silence so deep it screamed.
SeTa paused, his hand hovering over the knob. His breath fogged in the cold air.
> "You've faced fear," the system murmured. "Now face doubt."
He stepped inside.
---
Room Two: The Echoing Lecture Hall
Rows of wooden desks surrounded him, spiraling upward like a courtroom. A single spotlight pinned him in the center, blinding.
Then came the voices.
Dozens. Hundreds.
Not strangers—teachers, guardians, classmates.
All saying the same thing:
> "You'll never be enough."
"Your mind's sharp, but your heart's broken."
"Too emotional."
"Too weird."
"Too much."
The words didn't cut like the first room.
They drained.
With every insult, the air thinned. The walls closed. A fog settled in his lungs.
[MENTALITY WARNING: Stability 12% → 6%]
He couldn't move.
He didn't want to.
What was the point of climbing this damn tower?
What was the point of anything?
But then—a note appeared in his hand.
A torn journal scrap. Familiar handwriting.
His handwriting.
> "Dear Future Me:
If you're reading this, you haven't given up yet.
Good. Now remember—
Thinking is your power.
Feeling is your strength.
Make them listen."
His fingers clenched. The paper burned into blue flame, and the voices flinched.
One by one, he turned toward each voice, and whispered a name.
"Ms. Luwisha. You were wrong."
"Dad... you don't get to define me."
"Felix. Your laughter was a mask."
The fog snapped.
The walls collapsed.
He stood alone in silence—real, this time.
[Challenge Progress: 2/5]
+1 Stat Point Gained
+1 Dexterity (Emotional Response Speed)
New Passive: [Mental Fortress] – Resistance to psychological damage increases with trauma conquered.
---
Back in the hallway, he felt taller.
Not physically.
But his thoughts were clearer.
His body remained weak—but the world itself seemed more... bendable.
He spent 2 of his 11 stat points:
> Dexterity: 1 → 3
Endurance: 1 → 2
(Stamina untouched—yet.)
His INT pulsed faintly again.
∞.
"Who was my father?" he muttered.
The system didn't answer.
But the next door had no handle.
Only a mirror.
And in the reflection… was him.
Only older.
Smiling cruelly.