Leonardo struggled to catch his breath, the water swirling around him like an insistent force.

  Should he even be trying to breathe? His brown hair floated upwards, mimicking the movement of the tides, caught in the fluctuating speed of the spinning disc beneath him. It was a disorienting sensation, like being caught between the elements of water and air, unsure which one would claim him. He knew he shouldn't breathe, yet instinct fought against reason.

  The water wrapped around him, not like a suffocating blanket, but with the lightness of air. It didn't invade his nostrils or sting his eyes. In fact, it was as if he was still outside the shower, immersed in air rather than engulfed in water.

  It felt almost normal, yet so alien—a contradiction that sent his mind reeling. What is this feeling? It gnawed at him, familiar but elusive, like the sensation of an unwritten skill lingering on the edge of activation. He remembered that aura well, the surge of potential right before he had refused it.

  This felt disturbingly similar, yet there was no figure here to guide or save him. He let out a weak laugh, the sound muffled by the swirling water around him.

  His grip on the disc loosened, not that he was holding onto anything tangible, but rather the rigidity within himself. He began to relax, realizing that fighting against the current wouldn't help.

  It wasn't like swimming, thankfully, because he knew he wasn't a strong swimmer. His hair floated freely around his head, waving in the water's rhythm as he surrendered to the flow.

  Just as he began to adjust, the familiar text appeared, half-formed in the corner of his vision: [adaptive—]. The words hung there, frozen and incomplete. Leonardo's brow furrowed.

  Was the system assessing whether this was a life-or-death situation? Or was it attempting to help him acclimate to the strange environment? He had no idea, and that uncertainty only fueled his growing anxiety.

  The overwhelming sensation continued, his brain spiraling into confusion as time seemed to stretch.

  How long had it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? It was hard to tell with no frame of reference in the monotonous swirl of water and light.

  The blue glow of the disc beneath him pulsed in time with his racing heart, its brightness intensifying until, finally, the water stopped.

  Leonardo collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud, his body limp and exhausted. He lay there for a moment, the cool tiles pressing against his cheek, trying to gather his strength.

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  The once-spinning disc had ceased all movement, and the water within it began to dissipate rapidly, evaporating into nothing without leaving a single drop outside the boundary.

  The shower's meticulous design kept its promise of cleanliness, but Leonardo's unexpected fall had splashed water out beyond the designated area, a reminder of his own human frailty against the perfect engineering of the tower.

  "Why is all this happening?" he muttered to himself, his voice weak and barely audible in the now-quiet room.

  He pushed himself to his knees, limbs heavy and uncooperative, and began to limp towards the counter where he had left his clothes. Each step felt like dragging a weight, his muscles protesting after the bizarre ordeal.

  The exhaustion was overwhelming, seeping into his bones and making every movement a struggle.

  He collapsed again, this time rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The smooth, ornate surface above him seemed distant and surreal, "What if I just slept here?" he mused aloud.

  The tiles were cool and smooth, comforting in a way that reminded him of his bed back home in Volnia.

  A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. His eyelids grew heavy, threatening to close as he allowed himself to imagine the softness of his old bed, the warmth of familiarity.

  But a flicker of resolve pushed him back to reality. He groaned, crawling towards his sword, which lay just within reach.

  It was an effort, but he managed to grab the hilt and pull it close, feeling the weight of it in his hand—a reassuring anchor in a sea of confusion. He clutched the sword tightly, using it to steady himself as he slowly rose to his feet.

  The act of standing felt monumental, every muscle in his body aching from the prolonged tension.

  Staggering, Leonardo made his way over to the mirror, each step a laborious effort. He glanced at his reflection, barely recognizing the figure staring back at him.

  His entire body was still drenched, water dripping from his hair and trailing down his skin.

  Strangely, when he had been in the shower, it hadn't felt like water at all. But now, outside the confines of the glowing discs, the water clung to him, a tangible weight that he could feel with every breath.

  His nostrils flared, yet they remained dry, just as they had during the shower—a perplexing detail that only added to the surreal nature of his experience.

  "How can someone even bathe in an object like that?" Leonardo muttered, his breath ragged as he leaned heavily against the countertop.

  He stared at the mirror, hoping for answers that never came.

  The text that usually guided him remained silent, useless in this strange situation. He was on his own, with no one to turn to—no Anna, no Elara, not even the comforting guidance of the system.

  In this place, he was alone, worse off than a sitting duck; more like a dead one, he thought grimly.

  He shook his head, feeling the water droplets scatter from his hair. He watched them splatter against the mirror, tiny disruptions in the pristine glass.

  Gripping his sword tightly, Leonardo took a deep breath, or as deep as he could manage under the circumstances.

  He stared at his reflection, taking in the image of a young man who had been through far more than he ever expected.

  His brown hair clung to his forehead, disheveled and wild, his Amber eyes still sharp with resolve despite the weariness that weighed him down. And thats when he saw her.

  Was she always behind him? Was she watching him struggle, Was she looking at me, why that aggressively.