Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby novel Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Absolute Darkness

The cacophony of the previous level still echoed faintly in Eleanor’s mind as her world abruptly collapsed into nothingness. She discovered then that even emptiness had its own pressure. The frantic strobing lights were gone, replaced by a darkness so pure and absolute it seemed to erase the very concept of distance or dimension. There was no up, no down, no end... only the weight of infinite black.

Her own breath... a sound she had never truly noticed before, now roared in her ears, deafening in the void. The faint rustle of her robe as she shifted felt like parchment torn beside her head. Her heartbeat thudded wildly, a frantic rhythm that seemed too loud for such silence.

She raised a hand before her face, but saw nothing. When she waved it, phantom flashes erupted behind her closed eyelids... afterimages of chaos still burned into her retinas, tricks of a mind desperate for stimulus.

Panic stirred faintly in her chest, but she refused to let it spread. This level felt worse than the suffocation, worse than the agony, worse even than the sensory storm she had endured before. Now her senses were gone completely, leaving her adrift in an infinite, soundless void.

Ten minutes, she thought. I have to find the next door within ten minutes.

But how could she measure it? With no sight, no sound, no frame of reference, time itself became treacherous... stretching into eternity one heartbeat, collapsing into nothing the next. Was she even moving? How much time had passed? The disorientation was a vertigo not of the body, but of the soul.

Eleanor recalled what she had read in the archives. This was the Level of Perfect Sensory Void... a realm without light, sound, or scent. The floor beneath her was smooth and featureless, offering no clue to direction or progress. To survive, she would have to rely entirely on her inner compass, her sense of self, and her instinctive feel for time. The ten-minute limit was not a physical trial, but a psychological one... a race against the creeping madness of absolute silence.

This level was designed to forge immense mental fortitude and self-reliance, forcing the cadet to confront their own thoughts and fears. It taught them to draw strength from within when all external stimuli were stripped away. No abilities could be used here... Eleanor’s night vision, among others, was rendered completely useless.

She realised she hadn’t moved since stepping into the void. Taking a hesitant step forward, then another, she listened for sound... but her boots made none. The surface beneath her offered no echo, no resistance, no texture. There was nothing to confirm her progress but the faint strain in her muscles. The exit door was somewhere ahead... at least, she believed it was, but even the idea of forward felt uncertain here.

She stopped, standing motionless in the heart of the nothing. There was nothing to push against, nothing to see or sense. She closed her eyes... a futile act that somehow made the darkness feel deliberate, as though she were choosing it rather than enduring it.

Turning her focus inward, she steadied her breathing... slow, deep, deliberate. She concentrated on the pressure of her feet against the unseen ground, the weight of her own body, the undeniable presence of her physical self. She was an island in an infinite sea of nothing, and she had to trust the compass within her. If she strayed, even slightly, she might never find her way back.

With painstaking patience, she began to walk again... not seeking the door she could not see, but trusting, absolutely, that forward still existed.

Each step became an act of defiance against the void... a declaration that she existed, that her will had substance greater than the darkness itself. She wasn’t traversing a room anymore; she was crossing the threshold of her own fear. The only path out was through herself... whole, steady, and unbroken.

After what felt like an eternity, her hand brushed against something solid... a wall. At that instant, a faint outline of light shimmered ahead: the doorframe. A long, trembling breath escaped her lips. Eleanor exhaled in relief, stepped forward, and slowly pushed the door open.

The door sealed behind her, and the world exploded into motion. The air itself became a weapon. Eleanor dropped instinctively as a massive piston tore through the space where her head had been a heartbeat earlier, the rush of air whispering a promise of a broken neck had she hesitated even slightly.

She was in a maze... but the walls were the least of her concerns. They were made of a dark, rubbery material that shifted and twisted with a grinding hum, constantly reconfiguring the pathways. The floor beneath her was a treacherous grid of tiles, some dropping suddenly, others tilting without warning.

She burst through the gauntlet, breathless, her robe torn and her body aching with a fresh collection of bruises. Ahead, framed by the chaos, stood the exit door... solid, real, and waiting inside a small cavern beyond the shifting walls.

Without a backward glance, Eleanor lunged forward and dove through the threshold just as the walls behind her slammed together with a deafening crash that shook the ground.

She exhaled sharply, chest heaving. The timer on the corner of her eyes flickered... eight minutes and counting. After a few steadying breaths, she straightened, reached for the handle, and opened the door to the eighty-first level.

Eleanor recalled what she knew of this stage. This level was called the Crucible of Will... though those who had survived it preferred another name: the Psychic Pressure Level.

There were no traps here, no shifting floors or raging storms. The room itself was bare, deceptively simple. The true battle was invisible. Those who entered were assaulted not by force, but by thought... a suffocating psychic weight that clawed into the mind, whispering doubts, resurrecting buried failures, and wrapping the heart in the cold paralysis of despair. Each step forward felt like dragging one’s soul through mud, every heartbeat a war against surrender. To pause too long was to invite the pressure to deepen, to let the chaos of one’s own mind spiral into something far darker.

This level existed to forge mental endurance, emotional discipline, and unshakable focus. It taught challengers to build walls of thought, to shield themselves against the enemy within... the voice of insecurity, the weight of self-doubt.

Eleanor possessed natural defences that should have made this trial effortless. Her bloodline granted her the Clarity Veil, a passive ability that rendered her immune to illusions, mind-control, and memory tampering. She also bore the Eye of Wisdom, which dispelled ignorance, illusion, and desire... granting freedom from worldly attachment.

But they were all useless at this level. All her abilities had been shut down by the tower’s mechanism. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the challenge before her.