Flames of ethereal blue tore through the darkness of the cavern, illuminating jagged walls and casting elongated shadows of the warriors battling within. Caleb's heart pounded as he narrowly sidestepped a bolt of Soulfire, the cursed magic searing the air where he had been moments before.
"Retreat! Everyone fall back to the entrance!" the guild leader's voice boomed over the party channel.
Without hesitation, the hundred guild members sprinted out of the gigantic cavern that held the Ethereal Shard, a legendary treasure rumored to amplify one's ability in the Refinement Realm. Caleb knew they would never be able to defeat the Level 100 Soulfire Wraith. It was a mistake to even attack it; they had let their greed get ahead of them.
Most importantly, the wraith was using Soulfire, which burns the soul directly. If all of one's soul is burned, they will die, and their connection to God's Domain will be destroyed—a fate worse than death itself. The fear of the Soulfire Wraith and its devastating curse drove them forward with a singular focus: escape.
Everyone dashed toward the nearest tunnels to flee. Caleb ran down a random tunnel all alone. But the wraith would not just defend the Ethereal Shard; it would chase down all intruders. It duplicated itself, leaving a clone to guard the shard before pursuing the escaping guild members. It rushed down a random tunnel—the one Caleb had chosen to escape through.
As Caleb sprinted down the twisting passage, the sounds of battle faded, replaced by the rising thump of his heartbeat. The cold air bit at his lungs with each staggered breath. He risked a glance over his shoulder, but darkness swallowed everything beyond a few meters. A chill ran down his spine—not just from the cold but from the primal fear of being hunted.
"I have to keep moving," he muttered, pushing himself to run faster despite the burning in his legs. He should have allocated more points to stamina—but it was too late now.
Suddenly, a distant shriek pierced the silence—a sound that reverberated through the very stone around him. Caleb's blood turned to ice. The wraith was on his trail.
The tunnel forked ahead, splitting into two divergent paths. Without time to consider, Caleb veered left, his boots skidding on the slick ground. The passage narrowed sharply, the walls pressing in as the ceiling dipped lower, forcing him to duck beneath low-hanging stalactites. Water dripped rhythmically from the ceiling, each droplet echoing like a ticking clock counting down.
Behind him, the shriek sounded again—closer this time.
"It can't be following me specifically... can it?" Caleb's mind raced. Among a hundred guild members, what were the odds? Yet the ominous presence closing in suggested otherwise.
He pushed onward, but the tunnel continued to constrict. The rocky floor sloped upward, making each step more arduous. The air grew thin and cold, each breath burning his lungs. The scent of damp earth filled his nostrils, while the distant drip of water echoed like a fading heartbeat.
Suddenly, he skidded to a halt. Before him loomed a solid wall of rock—a dead end.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "No, no, no," he whispered, frantically running his hands over the unyielding stone, searching for any crevice or hidden passage. His fingers scraped against the rough surface, nails breaking as he clawed desperately, but there was no escape.
A faint, eerie glow bathed the tunnel behind him. Caleb turned slowly, dread twisting in his gut.
Emerging from the darkness was the wraith, its form a swirling mass of shadows entwined with flickering blue flames. Its eyes burned like twin embers, locking onto him with malevolent intent.
His heart thundered in his chest. Trapped and alone, he knew there was no outrunning this foe.
I don't want to die, the thought echoed, laced with desperation. Visions of the life he had outside the game flickered—dim and unfulfilling compared to the vibrant existence within God's Domain. This virtual world was more than a game; it was his sanctuary, the place where he felt most alive.
If I lose this... what do I have left? The prospect of severing his connection was more terrifying than death itself.
It's pointless, he realized. But I won't go down without a fight.
Steeling himself, Caleb raised his hands, fingers splayed. He began to trace intricate runes in the air, each movement deliberate and precise. The symbols glowed faintly as they hung suspended, pulsing with latent energy. The air around him crackled as he infused it with his mana, the runes resonating with his intent.
"Ice Lance!"
A shard of crystalline ice materialized before launching toward the wraith with blinding speed. The projectile struck the creature's chest, exploding into a flurry of snow and shards.
For a moment, the wraith's form wavered, tendrils of shadow recoiling from the impact. Hope flickered within Caleb. But then it reassembled effortlessly. The ice had done nothing. It hadn't even slowed the creature's advance.
Caleb's heart sank. He had known it was futile, yet witnessing his magic fail so completely struck him harder than any physical blow. A crushing weight settled on his shoulders, the bitter taste of failure coating his tongue.
The wraith tilted its head, almost as if mocking his attempt. It raised a clawed hand, and tendrils of Soulfire coiled around its arm, casting sinister shadows on the tunnel walls.
Desperation gnawed at him. Maybe if I combine spells. But his mana reserves were low, and there was no time.
Mustering his remaining strength, Caleb traced a final series of runes. A frigid wind howled down the tunnel at his command, whipping up shards of ice and snow. "Blizzard!" he cried, his voice echoing with a mixture of desperation and resolve.
Snow swirled and whipped toward the wraith, enveloping it in a vortex of icy shards. The temperature plummeted, and frost coated the walls. The fierce wind roared to life, the frigid air cutting at his skin. He welcomed the sting—it meant he could still feel, still fight.
"Let this be enough," he thought, hope flickering.
But as the winds subsided, the wraith emerged unscathed, the Soulfire burning brighter as if feeding off his efforts. The creature's flames seemed to burn even brighter, the heat intensifying—a direct contrast to the cold he had summoned.
Caleb staggered backward until his back pressed against the cold stone of the dead end. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him; his breaths came in ragged gasps. The realization settled heavily within him: he had nothing left to give.
"It's no use," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the wraith's flames. "I can't stop it."
The wraith closed the distance between them, its movements deliberate and inexorable. The tunnel filled with an oppressive heat, contrasting sharply with the lingering chill of his failed spells.
A strange calm enveloped Caleb, the adrenaline ebbing away. He met the wraith's gaze steadily, a flicker of defiance igniting in his eyes.
"I've been alone my whole life," he reflected, "but at least I can choose how I face the end." A subtle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a silent challenge to the fate before him.
"Maybe in my final act, I can be the hero I always wanted to be." The thought brought a semblance of peace.
The wraith's eyes flared, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. Caleb watched as malevolent energy coalesced, the air itself trembling. Then, with a swift motion, the wraith unleashed a torrent of Soulfire.
An intense pain tore through Caleb as the Soulfire engulfed him—a cold so deep it burned, searing his very soul. His vision blurred, darkness encroaching at the edges. The oppressive heat and chilling cold melded into an indescribable agony.
A system message flashed before him:
Critical Damage Sustained. Soulfire contamination detected. Connection to Greater God's Domain severed. Reinstatement impossible.
As his consciousness began to fade, a bittersweet mix of regret and acceptance washed over him. Perhaps... in another life...
Everything went black.