Regression of the Tower's Final Survivor-Chapter 68: Return to Base

Base Camp 13 was chaos wrapped in commerce.

The settlement sprawled across a natural plateau at the edge of the Canyons of Echoes, sheltered from the worst of the whispers by massive stone walls someone carved with sound-dampening runes. Tents and permanent structures competed for space, merchants hawked everything from healing potions to enchanted earplugs, and climbers from a dozen different floors moved through the crowds in various states of battle-readiness.

The Lightbreakers walked through the main gate and immediately became the center of attention.

"Is that them?"

"The ones who killed the Siren Queen?"

"I heard they made forty Flame Court soldiers strip naked."

"I heard it was a hundred."

Dante ignored the whispers, though he noted how quickly the rumors had spread. Floor 13’s ambient mana might cause hallucinations, but it also carried information at impossible speeds. Everyone in the camp already knew what happened in the canyon.

"We’re famous," Astrid said with a grin that showed too many teeth.

"We’re targets," Dante corrected. "Every faction in every floor is going to know our faces within a week. The Iron Domain, Flame Court and whoever else we’ve pissed off will be lining up to take shots at us."

"Let them try," she growled.

"They will. That’s the point."

He led them to a trading post, a permanent structure built from canyon stone with a sign that proclaimed HONEST JARETH’S EQUIPMENT EXCHANGE in multiple languages. The interior was cool and dim, lined with shelves holding everything from basic weapons to artifacts that glowed with dangerous power.

Jareth himself was a squat man with calculating eyes and a smile that never reached them. He took one look at the pile of Flame Court equipment they dumped on his counter and his expression flickered through surprise, greed, and careful neutrality in rapid succession.

"Popular style today," he said mildly. "Lots of Flame Court gear hitting the market lately."

"Supply and demand." Dante leaned on the counter. "How much?"

The negotiation was brief and brutal. Jareth tried every trick, deprecating the quality, claiming market saturation, inventing maintenance costs that would eat into resale value. Dante countered each point with knowledge no one his apparent level should possess, citing comparable sales from other floors and current military contract prices that made Jareth’s eyes widen slightly.

They walked out with three thousand credits and a standing invitation to bring future acquisitions to Jareth’s establishment exclusively.

"Where did you learn to haggle like that?" Ren asked as they moved toward the inn district.

"Practice." Eight years of it, across a hundred floors, learning which merchants were fair and which needed to be pressed. "Most traders assume climbers don’t know the value of what they’re carrying. Prove them wrong once and they treat you differently."

"I’ll remember that."

The inn they chose was mid-tier, expensive enough to have private rooms but not so expensive that it attracted attention from people looking to rob wealthy climbers. Dante paid for a week in advance, distributed room keys, and told everyone to rest while he handled supplies.

He was halfway through negotiating a bulk purchase of healing potions when he felt the presence behind him.

The scent of old blood and expensive cologne.

"Adrian Cross," Dante said without turning. "You’re a long way from Floor 11."

"So are you." Adrian stepped up beside him, immaculate as always in tailored climbing gear that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. His smile was friendly, approachable, designed to put people at ease. "Impressive show in the canyons. The Flame Court is licking their wounds and swearing vengeance, but we both know they don’t have the teeth for it."

"We?"

"Figure of speech." Adrian signaled the merchant and added a case of stamina potions to Dante’s order, paying before Dante could object. "Consider it a congratulations gift. Not everyone survives Floor 13, let alone clears it with this much style."

Dante finally turned to look at him, studying the face of the man who would eventually betray everyone he cared about. The same golden hair, the same hazel eyes, the same easy charm that made people want to trust him even when every instinct screamed not to.

"What do you want, Adrian?"

"Always straight to business." Adrian’s smile didn’t waver. "I like that about you. Most climbers dance around conversations for hours before getting to the point."

"I don’t have hours."

"Fair enough." Adrian lowered his voice, stepping closer. "I’ve been watching your ascent since Floor 8. The speed, the efficiency, the way you handle faction politics like you’ve done it a hundred times. You’re not a normal climber, Dante. You’re something else entirely."

"So?"

"So I have resources. Information networks, supply chains, contacts on floors you haven’t reached yet. I could make your climb significantly easier, if we worked together."

"And in return?"

"A partnership." Adrian spread his hands in a gesture of openness. "You have muscle and tactical brilliance. I have infrastructure and intelligence. Combined, we could move through the Tower faster than anyone in history."

Dante considered the offer, or appeared to. He already knew Adrian’s game, already understood that every word out of the man’s mouth was calculated to serve his true masters. The Archon’s reach extended through agents like this one, seeding trust that would be weaponized when the moment was right.

"Floor 14," Dante said. "What do you know about it?"

Adrian’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, thinking he hooked his target. "The Gravity Wells. Floating islands, unstable physics, beautiful if you don’t fall to your death. The merchant faction controlling the base camps is called the Golden Accord, and they’ve been looking for new partnerships."

"Let me guess. You have an in with them."

"I have ins with everyone." Adrian tilted his head slightly. "Interested?"

Dante thought about killing him right there. It would be easy, a single thrust to the throat before Adrian could react, and then the future betrayal would never happen. Ren would live. The others would survive.

But Adrian was connected. Killing him now would bring attention Dante couldn’t afford, questions he couldn’t answer, and enemies he wasn’t ready to face. And more importantly, keeping him close meant knowing exactly where he was and what he was planning.

’Not yet,’ the Ancient Core whispered. ’He’s still useful.’

’I know,’ Dante thought back. ’But I’m counting the days.’

"I’m listening," he said aloud.

Adrian’s smile widened into something that looked almost genuine. "Excellent. I have a room at the Silver Chalice, top of the camp. Come by tomorrow evening and we’ll discuss the details over dinner."

"No dinner. Just business."

"As you prefer." Adrian clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of false camaraderie that made Dante’s skin crawl. "Welcome to the big leagues, Dante. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

He walked away, disappearing into the crowd with the ease of someone who’d spent their life being invisible when convenient.

Dante watched him go, then turned back to the merchant to complete his purchase.

"Friend of yours?" the merchant asked, eyeing the departed golden boy with the wariness of someone who knew trouble when he saw it.

"No," Dante said. "Just someone I haven’t killed yet."

The merchant decided, wisely, not to ask follow-up questions.

---

That evening, Dante gathered the core team in his room for a briefing.

Ren, Astrid, Ravenna, Sera, Leon, Vex. The original crew plus additions he hadn’t planned for but couldn’t deny had earned their place. Seira and her surviving teammates were bunking separately, still on probation, still carrying bags.

"Floor 14 is the Gravity Wells," Dante began. "Floating islands, physics that don’t work properly, and unstable gravity currents that will crush you if you fall wrong. The faction controlling the base camps is called the Golden Accord, and they run all trade through their gates."

"Floating islands?" Astrid leaned forward. "How do we even fight on something like that?"

"Carefully." Dante’s smile was thin. "The gravity shifts constantly. Adrian’s team scouted ahead, they have maps of the current configuration and safe routes between islands. We’ll use their intel to navigate while training in the high-gravity zones."

"And the Golden Accord?" Ren asked.

"They control the trade routes between islands. Cross them and supplies dry up. But they’re merchants, not warriors. If we play their game while building our strength, we can move through the floor without making enemies we don’t need."

"Economic warfare with a physical edge," Vex said thoughtfully. "Navigate the terrain, leverage the faction politics."

"Exactly."

The briefing continued, Dante sketching out what he remembered of Floor 14’s geography and politics while the team asked questions and raised concerns. It was almost domestic, this planning session, a far cry from the constant combat that had defined their recent days.

Ravenna caught him after the others had drifted to their own rooms.

"Adrian Cross," she said quietly. "Your reaction when you saw him was... complex."

"Define complex."

"Hatred. Recognition. Calculation." Her demon eyes studied him with uncomfortable intensity. "You know him."

"I know of him."

"That’s not what I felt." She stepped closer. "You looked at him like you’ve already watched him die. Like you’re waiting to watch him die again."

Dante said nothing.

"I don’t know what you’re hiding," Ravenna continued. "I don’t know why you know things you shouldn’t, or why the Ancient Core responds to you like you’re an old friend instead of a recent host. But I know you’re carrying secrets that could destroy you if you don’t share the weight."

"And you’re offering to help carry them?"

"I’m offering to listen." She reached out and touched his arm, the same gesture from the canyon that had pulled him back from hallucination. "When you’re ready."

He looked at her, at the demon girl who understood emotions better than anyone he’d ever met from any timeline, and felt something crack in the armor he’d built around his heart.

"Maybe someday," he said.

"I’ll hold you to that."

She left, and Dante stood alone in the room, listening to the sounds of the camp outside and thinking about all the ways this timeline could go wrong.

Adrian was making his move. The Archon’s pieces were in play.

And somewhere in the upper floors, something vast and terrible was waiting for him to climb high enough to reach it.

’I’m coming,’ he thought at the darkness. ’And this time, you’re the one who’s going to lose.’

The Ancient Core pulsed in agreement. Floor 14 waited, and the climb continued.