Utopian System

"Do you wish to withdraw from the challenge or advance to the next level?"

The question shone before them, clear and inescapable.

"If you advance, you will obtain a prize: the emblem of power."

These new words appeared below the initial question, adding a new level of complexity to their decision.

Silence stretched between them as they considered their options.

They had overcome the first challenge, but at a cost. Their mana was depleted, and they didn't know what other dangers might lurk in the next level.

On the other hand, the emblem of power sounded like a tempting reward.

What could it be? Would it be worth the risk? The promise of power hung in the air, tantalizing and dangerous.

Withdrawing now would mean returning with information about the first level of the challenge and the cores they had collected.

It would be the safe, prudent choice.

They could report back, regroup, perhaps return better prepared.

But could they enter again? Would it be enough to...?

Advancing... advancing could mean obtaining something that would change the course of their situation, something that could give them a crucial advantage.

The potential benefits were immense, but so were the risks.

The crystal continued to glow, seemingly patient, waiting for their decision.

In that silent chamber, surrounded by mystery and danger, the five faced a choice that could alter not only their destinies but that of the entire city.

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They decided to advance.

They haven't gained anything relevant, and leaving now wouldn't change their situation. They had to take the risk.

The blue crystal pulsed with a blinding light, engulfing the five challengers in its radiance. For an instant, the world vanished in a whirlwind of sensations, only to reform into a new reality. The transition was disorienting, leaving them momentarily breathless.

They advanced again with caution, their senses heightened, every nerve on edge.

The cavern that surrounded them now seemed, at first glance, identical to the previous one. Vast, dark, with the same air charged with anticipation. But something... something was different.

The atmosphere felt heavier, more oppressive.

Upon reaching the open space...

One hundred Locus rose before them, arranged in a perfect square formation. Ten by ten, each separated by exactly ten meters from its neighbors.

A familiar vision and yet deeply unsettling.

The group advanced cautiously, their senses on high alert. Experience on the wall had intimately familiarized them with the appearance of the Locus.

Although they weren't veterans of countless battles, they had spent enough time on the wall, had observed, faced, and eliminated enough of these creatures to recognize every detail of their anatomy.

Each twisted curve, each sharp claw, was etched in their memories.

But these...

A collective shiver ran down their spines when realization hit them.

These Locus were different.

At first glance, the general structure was the same: elongated and sinuous bodies, four hands with lethal claws, four legs designed for supernatural speed and agility.

But there the similarities ended.

The color of these creatures was lighter, brighter, as if absorbing the little light that was in the cavern. And the markings... Intricate black patterns covered their carapaces, giving them a more menacing appearance. The patterns seemed to shift and move, even as the creatures remained motionless.

"Are these also... Locus?"

There was no answer. No one had one.

The atmosphere became dense, oppressive. The air itself seemed to resist entering their lungs, charged with a primitive fear that threatened to paralyze them.

For a moment, doubt took hold of them.

Had they made a fatal mistake by advancing?

Had they ventured beyond their capabilities, seduced by the promise of a prize that could cost them everything?

But there was no turning back.

The emblem of power lay in their hands.

But they didn't know how to use it, they didn't know what to do with it, so they left it to the support line.

The mysterious artifact pulsed with an energy they couldn't comprehend, its purpose as enigmatic as the challenge before them.

Swallowing their apprehension, the group began to formulate their strategy in urgent whispers.

They would maintain the approach that had served them well in the first level, but with crucial modifications.

This time, they would retreat earlier, avoiding being surrounded by the formation as it had almost reached them before. The memory of their previous battle fueled their caution.

With a tacit understanding, three of them prepared for the initial attack while the other two remained in reserve. Their movements were synchronized, honed by countless hours of training and the shared experience of their recent ordeal.

They would try to find a way to use the emblem, but they couldn't risk the monsters awakening and losing the advantage of the first blow. The artifact remained a wild card.

The air crackled with magical energy, the tension palpable as they charged their most powerful combos. The very atmosphere seemed to thicken, charged with the potential of their impending assault.

A second of absolute silence. Then, chaos.

Explosions of ice and fire illuminated the cavern, creating a spectacle of destruction that rivaled their previous battle. The roar of unleashed magic was deafening, the light blinding in its intensity.

When the glow faded and the smoke dissipated, the group held their breath, expecting to see fewer Locus. The anticipation was almost painful, each heartbeat an eternity.

But the vision that greeted them froze the blood in their veins.

The hit Locus remained standing.

Their carapaces showed signs of damage, true, but they were far from defeated. The black markings on their bodies glowed with greater intensity, as if they were absorbing and neutralizing part of the damage. The sight was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying.

Surprise quickly turned to alarm when the Locus began to move, advancing with a terrifying speed, faster than normal.

Without wasting time, they launched the second wave of attacks.

Another explosion shook the cavern, elemental magic clashing against the bodies of the Locus in a frenzy of light and sound.

Nothing. The monsters kept advancing, relentless.

4 hits, 0 deaths.

Panic began to take hold of the group. The reality of their situation was setting in, cold and unforgiving.

Fifth attack.

But the Locus were still standing.

They kept advancing.

The black markings on their carapaces now shone with a blinding intensity, pulsing to the rhythm of a sick and monstrous heart. The eerie glow cast dancing shadows across the cavern, distorting their perception and adding to their growing terror.

The group retreated, the realization hitting them like a hammer: these Locus were much more resistant than all they had faced before. Their strategy, so effective in the first level, now seemed inadequate, almost laughably so.

The Locus were getting closer and closer.

They could see the details of their twisted bodies, hear the screech of their claws against the rock. The air grew thick with the stench of the monsters.

Time was running out. Their options were dwindling with each passing second.

"What do we do now?"

There was no answer. No one had it.

The Locus advanced, unstoppable. Their twisted forms, more terrifying than ever.

Panic threatened to consume them completely.

Until the one in charge of the emblem saw his book, on the statistics page.