The air shimmered as they ascended the staircase leading to the fifth floor. It wasn't a visible distortion, more of a subtle, unsettling vibration that resonated deep within Elias. The metallic tang of the fourth floor's mechanical horrors was gone, replaced by the cloying sweetness of incense, too thick and artificial to be natural. He tightened his grip on his newly modified axe, the gear-driven mechanism humming quietly. The knowledge he'd gleaned from the Gearsmith's workshop was proving invaluable, but even augmented strength and a sharper blade felt inadequate against the unknown.

Sarah, walking beside him, paused at the top of the stairs. Her usually bright eyes were clouded with a flicker of apprehension. "Something's... off," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "More than usual."

Elias nodded, feeling the same unease prickling at his skin. They stepped through the archway, and the world tilted on its axis.

Gone was the solid stone and metal of the previous floors. They now stood in a seemingly endless hall of mirrors. Each mirror reflected a different version of themselves, some distorted and grotesque, others idealized and impossibly perfect. The incense was almost unbearable, painting the air with swirling patterns that seemed to writhe before his eyes.