The closer he drew to the upper floors, the fiercer the wind and rain became.
Lan Yu hung high in the air, his mechanical prosthesis hooked into a television casing. Rain struck its metal joints with a steady patter.
Without this prosthetic hand, he probably would not even have reached the fifteenth floor.
Now, though his prosthesis was barely hooked onto the television and his situation looked precarious, he had at least finally reached the Seventeenth Floor.
The rest would be easy. He would not even need to leap between footholds. Once he climbed onto one more television, he would reach the Eighteenth Floor, only three steps away from Room 1818.
Even Lan Yu's mind could barely calculate how long this climb had taken. His condition kept deteriorating, until his head swam and his vision blurred.
"I should be all right once I get into Room 1818. He keeps forcing me to go in, which means it can't be certain death in there.
"He must need me to bring something inside to accomplish some objective I know nothing about."
Lan Yu hung in midair by one hand, letting the gale toss his body from side to side as he studied the railing on the Eighteenth Floor through glasses already covered in rain.
Reaching the Eighteenth Floor was no longer a problem. The crucial part was the three steps from the railing to Room 1818—a distance of roughly three meters.
The 1002 Incident could affect the Yin World, but it could never affect Room 1818. Once he reached it, he would surely be out of the void.
But with nothing to push off from and his strength dwindling, Lan Yu had no confidence that he could cross those three meters.
"Could it be... could he..."
Weakness kept interrupting his calm reasoning.