Level 7: The Infinite Arcade.

  Kar’Nix and Dante were finally alone.

  The former members of the cult who had worshipped the raven were no longer in the room. Dante had freed them from their trance; they regained their wills and fled Level 1002 in terror.

  Only Jonathan and Horacio remained, cleaning silently under Kar’Nix’s mental control, but at Dante’s explicit orders, who needed to keep them occupied and away from the conversation. He already had other plans for them later.

  The raven tilted his head, studying him with a mix of mockery and curiosity.

  — Then tell me, Dante — he croaked in his rough, mocking voice. — Why are you still trapped in this limbo? You possess the rune of Infinite Regression. In theory, you could have escaped already.

  Which regression are you on now? The tenth? The fifteenth? Thanks to our Mystic Bond Pact, I’ve seen so much information from the countless timelines you’ve created that, frankly… I’m too lazy to review every single bit. It takes time… and energy. Honestly, it bores me.

  What’s clear is that you care little for the temporal disaster you’ve caused.

  I hope it doesn’t bring worse consequences. It could even affect the Great Balance of Nullaria — he commented with serious sarcasm.

  It was the first time in all his regressions that Kar’Nix mentioned something called the Great Balance.

  Dante narrowed his eyes.

  — I care little for that Great Balance of Nullaria — he replied, annoyed, though the term piqued his curiosity. — I would have left already… if someone hadn’t betrayed me.

  Kar’Nix opened his beak, intrigued.

  — Betrayed? Don’t judge me for sins I didn’t commit. I’ve only just met you in person.

  Dante looked him directly in the eyes, unblinking.

  — You are the same in all regressions. Always just as cunning… just as manipulative.

  Kar’Nix made no attempt to deny it. He didn’t even blink.

  — Your mind is full of fragments of information — Dante continued —. You’ve been inside the heads of hundreds, thousands of people over millennia. You carry other people’s memories. Stories. Secrets. Knowledge of entities that have existed since the origins of Nullaria.

  So don’t play innocent. Don’t expect me to believe you’d never commit a betrayal. In all regressions I’ve had to endure your detestable behaviour; I know you well… or at least I thought I did. I never imagined you could stoop so low. Even if it wasn’t you, it’s a behaviour clearly present within you. And that’s what matters.

  Kar’Nix blinked, curious and puzzled, but without a trace of guilt.

  Dante inhaled deeply, trying to explain himself better.

  — In my last regression… I was about to return to my world. We crossed the Final Level. We reached the strange Intermediate Plane: The Surface. A small patch of land lost in an eternal ocean of suffering souls.

  His voice vibrated with frustration.

  — There, a Ferryman awaited us. And whenever we encountered a conscious entity, you would warn me if you sensed anything strange or dangerous in its mind. But that day… you said nothing.

  And when we were halfway across, he demanded a second gold coin. I didn’t have it.

  He threw me into the Luntra Lagoon.

  He paused.

  — And I died. Drowned.

  So don’t come playing the innocent now. I don’t believe you. Even if you’re from another timeline… you’re still the same cunning bird.

  Kar’Nix let out a harsh laugh, enjoying the drama.

  — Oh my…! So that’s what happened!

  What a tragedy. I have no idea what my self from that timeline was thinking… but I must admit it sounds intriguing. Even a little comical.

  Dante grabbed him by the neck feathers, filled with fury.

  — You find that funny?

  The raven looked at him sideways, calm as ever.

  — I suppose my self from that regression chose to omit information. Perhaps it wasn’t convenient for you to know. Or maybe… it felt betrayed by you.

  But I don’t understand what you gain by attacking me for actions that, as far as I’m concerned, I didn’t commit.

  Dante clenched his jaw and released him with disgust.

  — What I don’t understand — he said, frowning — is why you didn’t die. If it was a betrayal of the pact, the Kar’Nix of that regression should have been destroyed.

  The raven raised a feather from his shoulder, as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world.

  — The Mystic Bond Pact allows for the exchange of information and power.

  Breaking it carries the death of the betrayer, yes.

  But my past self broke nothing. He only omitted information…

  Information which, coincidentally, turned out to be vital for you.

  He raised his feathers with almost theatrical sarcasm, smiling maliciously.

  Dante scrutinised him, incredulous.

  — Coincidentally?

  — Don’t you see? said the raven, amused —. If one of us dies from external causes outside the pact, the bond dissolves without consequences for the other.

  My self from that regression found the perfect way to rid himself of you without paying the price: let someone else kill you.

  Simple.

  The real question is: why?

  His feathers bristled. He relished the macabre analysis.

  Dante watched silently. Still distrustful. Still burning inside.

  But part of him… wanted to believe him. He tried to remember what he could have done to push the Kar’Nix of the previous timeline to act like that.

  But it was useless to dwell on regrets.

  He needed a way to prevent the current one from repeating that betrayal.

  He took a deep breath.

  — Then listen carefully, Kar’Nix — he said —. I want to propose something. Something that will make trust between us absolute. I need you to trust me no matter what… and I trust you.

  Kar’Nix let out a hoarse chuckle.

  — That will be difficult. I’m naturally distrustful. And humans… betray by nature too. No wonder they end up here, dying horribly.

  They are selfish, unpredictable, filthy and incapable of working together to return to their world, even when it could benefit them all.

  And you… Dante Montenegro… are no exception. Even with the advantage of your rune, you’ve barely changed your behaviour, from what I see in your memories.

  Dante pressed his lips together. It annoyed him… because deep down he knew Kar’Nix was speaking the truth.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  — Place the Omega mark on me.

  The atmosphere fell silent instantly. One that stretched so long it became uncomfortable.

  — W… What? — Kar’Nix whispered, surprised, slowly savouring the magnitude of what he had just heard. He knew perfectly well what it implied.

  For a moment, the raven seemed to study his face, trying to understand the trick.

  — If my immunity to curses drops even by one percent… I risk you dominating my mind — Dante explained.

  — Not only that, added Kar’Nix —. I could force you to break the pact, control you, consume you entirely, use you as I wish, steal your Divine Stones… or even get rid of you without consequences. Are you aware of that?

  Dante held his gaze without hesitation.

  — I know. But you are a different Kar’Nix in this regression… aren’t you? So I choose to trust you.

  That completely unsettled him. The raven narrowed his eyes, not out of suspicion, but to hide an emotion he barely remembered: respect.

  Without saying another word, his eyes shone an intense red. He wouldn’t miss this delicious opportunity.

  A bolt of energy streaked through the air and struck Dante’s left shoulder. The mark appeared: a glowing Omega letter began to burn on his skin.

  — I must admit… you’ve got guts, lad. What you’ve done is very risky — he said finally, with a mixture of astonishment and respect —. I like you.

  — This is strange… — murmured Kar’Nix to himself —. I can’t believe this person is doing this…

  His voice, for the first time, belonged to someone who knew had just witnessed a genuine sacrifice.

  Dante said nothing, trying to contain a smile.

  OMEGA mark

  He knew Kar’Nix could track his marked ones, and thanks to the mark, they also knew where to return: they knew his exact location. He deduced that by being marked, he could know the raven’s location at all times. That would be useful if he disappeared with dark intentions and planned to kill him. Also, unlike the other marked, Dante was immune to his mind control.

  He smiled inwardly: he was learning to play his game.

  He observed the mark on his skin and a question arose.

  — What does the Omega symbolise?

  Kar’Nix shrugged.

  — I don’t know. It was already embedded in the mind control power I received when I came of age.

  The raven lost his gaze in thought for a second.

  — A Higher Being gave it to me. I never saw its face. Its light was unbearable. My perception wasn’t high enough to give it a shape to that light and look through that intensity… I suppose.

  All I know is that it was someone powerful. Far above the Seven Terrors of Nullaria. Perhaps… the Creator of this place.

  Dante looked at him, surprised.

  — Do you think that Higher Being is God?

  Kar’Nix narrowed his eyes, thoughtful.

  — What you call God is part of the mythology humanity created to justify what they could not understand. In Nullaria there are no gods as humanity understands them. No religions. No hundreds of languages like on Earth. As far as I know… those are all constructs of your physical world.

  Dante asked quietly, as if he had just realised something:

  — No languages? What do you mean by that?

  — Have you wondered why all of you can understand and communicate with each other even coming from different parts of Earth, speaking different tongues?

  Dante blinked, puzzled. He had never stopped to think about that, nor did he recall discussing it in previous regressions.

  Kar’Nix smiled at his ignorance and continued:

  — It’s because there are no physical bodies here. You are souls that only appear to have a body. This world gives you a form, something you can use to move, speak, and feel… but they are not real bodies. And since you have no language of your own when you arrive, Nullaria simply… translates what you mean. It ensures everyone understands each other, no matter where they come from.

  Dante absorbed that truth thoughtfully.

  — But if what you say is true… we’re talking about sharing some kind of spiritual language. Someone must definitely be behind something like that. That meticulous spark could only be created by God.

  Kar’Nix shrugged again.

  — Perhaps you’re right. But to me, that God you speak of… if it exists, is as far from my understanding as it is from yours. I only know Nullaria. I never imagined there were even other worlds… until you started falling here and I saw the images in your minds.

  The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was deep.

  Charged with something neither Dante nor Kar’Nix could yet comprehend.

  Dante also reflected: he was facing a new variant in this regression. He had received the Omega mark to strengthen the raven’s trust… and now he learned of the possible existence of a Higher Being, or a Creator.

  Coming out of his thoughts, Dante murmured:

  — Well… enough philosophy. The only thing that matters to me is surviving… and escaping this damn hell.

  Kar’Nix tilted his head, attentive. Dante looked at him seriously.

  — For now, we just need to focus on preparing. We’re going to face the Fifth Terror…

  The raven froze.

  — Y… you know it?

  — Valour — Dante nodded —. I’ve faced it several times.

  — And you survived the encounter overall?

  — After dying several times… hahahaha… it was only once I learned how to defeat it. One of the toughest battles, honestly. That’s why your help is crucial in all this.

  Kar’Nix looked puzzled.

  — Me?! But I don’t have enough power to dominate a Terror’s mind…

  — Don’t worry about that. First… take me to your secret room in the palace. Where you hide your relics.

  Kar’Nix’s eyes widened in surprise.

  — H… How do you know…? — but then he remembered the regressions and murmured —. Never mind…

  Dante smirked slightly, as if reminding him not to ask unnecessary questions.

  And as they both disappeared into the palace corridors, somewhere else in Nullaria, someone else awaited eagerly.

  Night fell slowly over Level 101, and Matilde noticed it immediately. The lights flickered in the rusted streetlamps, and the air grew denser, as if reality itself were beginning to warp.

  — It’s time for everyone to return home — she said, watching the starless sky —. It’s not advisable to wander the streets of the Neighbourhood of Echoes at night. Reality distorts, and we could get lost in it.

  Bealuna nodded, a certain weight on her shoulders.

  — Alright. I’ll wait for Dante at his house.

  Matilde tilted her head, a faint smile barely hidden.

  — Will you stay in the haunted house for the night? How curious of you. You know Dante can’t enter the level at night. No one can enter this level while it’s distorted.

  Bealuna didn’t answer. She just began to walk away, her gaze firm; nothing would change her decision.

  Matilde sighed resignedly, though a soft tenderness appeared on her face.

  — You’re so in love… — she murmured, a nostalgic smile forming.

  The evening mist thickened, accompanied by the silent murmur of the level becoming distorted.

  Few seconds later, Bealuna crossed the threshold of Dante’s assigned House of Echoes.

  Inside, as always, it seemed suspended in an endless cycle of human scenes, repeated over and over.

  The Echo mother prepared unreal food in the kitchen, moving like a programmed shadow.

  The two Echo children played on the floor. The Echo father, seated in his favourite armchair, leafed through a newspaper whose words disintegrated and recombined without ever forming a readable text.

  But this time, something disrupted the perfect routine.

  The Echo girl abruptly stopped playing with her brother. Without a word, she took her fraying doll and moved to a corner, clutching it with an unsettling stillness.

  The Echo boy, oblivious to her, reached into his pocket, pulled out a shiny gold coin, and approached the old arcade machine embedded in the wall.

  The screen sprang to life instantly with familiar, distorted, strangely childlike music. It reminded her of Super Mario Bros.

  The character on the screen ran across floating platforms in a strange landscape. But the enemies were not turtles or mushrooms: they were pixelated, deformed human faces, screaming in horror as they were crushed.

  Bealuna shivered at the sight.

  No wonder this machine was known to everyone as the Cursed Relic of that level.

  She stood watching the scene for a long while. The boy, noticing her presence, barely turned his head. Without a word, he kindly offered her the controls.

  She hesitated.

  She knew bothering an Echo could be disastrous.

  So she accepted.

  And then it happened.

  After a few seconds, the screen rippled.

  And as it distorted, it sucked her in before she could react.

  The boy, without surprise, took the controls again and continued playing. As if nothing had happened, as if it were completely normal.

  Having been devoured by the ancient arcade machine, Bealuna materialised abruptly in a disturbing place.

  For a second, the world vibrated like an old monitor powering on.

  A plush red carpet, similar to those in casinos, stretched before an infinite corridor with an 80s aesthetic and music from the same era.

  Thousands of empty arcade machines lined up, flashing with neon lights.

  Information appeared in her vision:

  [Level 7: Axis +X. Class 1 — Survival Difficulty: Tolerable]

  Occasional presence of non-aggressive entities.

  Hazards are minimal or easy to avoid.

  Hostility depends, in general, on human behaviour.

  Survival is possible with caution. Multiple exit routes identified.

  — Level 7...? — murmured Bealuna, clutching her head, still dizzy.

  Around her, neon lights and a distinctive smell of pizza, beer, and cigarettes filled the air, though she couldn’t discern the source.

  She began to walk slowly, observing machines with forgotten names, unable to understand where she was or how she had arrived.

  End of Chapter Fourteen.

  Omega mark alters his dynamic with Kar’Nix in ways neither of them fully understands, while their discussion reveals fragments of Nullaria’s deeper architecture: the elusive Great Balance, the language of souls, and the shadow of a Creator beyond comprehension.

  Level 7 opens a new thread. The Infinite Arcade, with its neon corridors and distorted nostalgia, becomes the next stage where survival depends not on strength, but on understanding.

  Nullaria, nothing is insignificant and every destiny has a purpose.

  Alberto Báez