I limped through the darkness, every step sending waves of pain through my battered body. My mind was a haze, numb from exhaustion and grief. Alex's death replayed endlessly in my head, each haunting detail etched deep into memory.
But I kept moving.
The tunnels seemed endless, an oppressive maze of stone and shadow. My dagger felt heavier with every passing step, the blade slick with sweat and dried blood.
Eventually, the narrow path opened into a wider space. Ahead stood a massive door carved from dark, unfamiliar stone. Strange markings spiraled across its surface, faintly glowing under some unknown enchantment.
Hesitantly, I stepped closer, heart hammering. The moment I crossed the threshold, there was a sudden, grinding noise behind me.
I spun around, dread seizing my chest.
The stone door had sealed shut.
"No," I whispered, lunging toward it. My palms slammed against the smooth stone, frantically searching for cracks, handles, anything. "Dammit, no!"
Nothing budged.
I slumped against the cold surface, breathing heavily. After a moment, I turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room.
Walls surrounded me. Strange scriptures covered every surface, carved deeply into the stone. Lines of alien symbols I'd never seen before, glowing softly with an unsettling pale-blue hue.
"What is this?" I murmured, stepping forward cautiously.
I ran a finger across one of the carvings, half-expecting something to happen, but the symbols remained unchanged. They felt wrong beneath my fingertips—cold, almost vibrating with subtle energy.
My throat tightened.
In the center of the room stood a statue.
It was human-like, carved from smooth, blackened stone, but wrong in ways subtle and overt. Its features were sharp, too defined, each angle and curve unnaturally precise. Twin horns protruded from its forehead, curving gracefully back over its skull. Its eyes were open, set with polished gems that caught and reflected the faint light, giving an unsettling impression of life.
Its pupils were vertical slits, like those of a cat—predatory, indifferent, and cold.
In its outstretched hand rested an empty stone bowl, as though awaiting some grim offering. The bowl's interior was stained dark, the stone worn and cracked with age. I stepped closer, unease prickling down my spine.
As soon as I moved, the runes etched around the room flared to life. Soft glows pulsed outward, rippling along the walls. With each step, I felt the air grow heavy, as though unseen chains settled onto my shoulders. My breaths came shorter, my heart beating faster, louder, echoing in my ears.
I gritted my teeth, forcing another step closer, muscles straining beneath the growing pressure. My skill stirred quietly in my chest, pulsing faintly on the edge of activating but not yet triggered.
My eyes landed on the statue's chest. Words were carved there, cut deeply and roughly into its skin-like surface. Each letter harsh, purposeful, and ancient.
Through death comes life. Through life comes death.
As soon as I finished reading the scripture, a rune flared on my left, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythm. The grinding of stone filled the chamber as a hidden passage yawned open, and from its darkness stumbled an undead.
I stiffened, dagger gripped tightly, adrenaline pushing through bone-deep exhaustion.
But this undead… was familiar. A small, rotten goblin. Its sagging, mottled skin hung loosely from brittle bones, clinging in patches like decayed cloth. Milky eyes stared vacantly at me, its crude wooden club dragging lazily along the stone floor.
I stepped back, heart thundering. I'd faced undead goblins before. But here, in my weakened state, even the weakest enemy could kill me.
The runes along the walls brightened, casting shadows across the goblin's twisted face. A new sensation washed over me: an invisible force, tugging at something vital within. It felt as though my very essence was being drained, pulled away slowly, painfully. My knees threatened to buckle under the invisible weight, but my skill surged, Last Stand desperately counteracting the unnatural pull.
The goblin lunged forward with a speed that seemed impossible for its decaying limbs. I dodged backward, narrowly avoiding the club's heavy swing, feeling its rough edge slice the air just inches from my chest. Every movement felt heavier, slower than it should've been. The runes' invisible drain intensified with every passing second, forcing my skill to burn hotter.
I slashed wildly with my dagger, slicing deep into its side, but the goblin barely flinched. It swung again, catching my shoulder, sending shockwaves of pain through my body. We fought desperately, back and forth, each moment draining more strength from my already battered frame.
But I refused to fall.
With a final surge of strength born from desperation, I lunged forward, sinking my blade deep into its throat. Black blood sprayed my face, and the goblin collapsed, twitching briefly before falling still.
The runes dimmed slightly, their oppressive pull weakening and the feeling of rejuvenation entered my body. But it wasn't enough. My legs trembled beneath me, and darkness edged my vision. I staggered backward, praying the trial was over.
But it wasn't.
On another wall, the rune blazed to life, brighter and fiercer than the last. Stone scraped, and a much larger chamber opened.
From the shadows stepped a monstrous undead, it was humanoid but distinctly reptilian, towering over me with rippling, decayed muscles beneath cracked, rotted scales. Its eyes were pale and lifeless, jaws lined with jagged teeth. Razor-sharp claws flexed in anticipation.
The runes blazed brighter, their pull redoubling with merciless intensity. My body screamed in agony as that invisible force tore at me once more. If not for Last Stand fighting tirelessly to sustain me, I would've collapsed immediately.
The reptilian charged forward without hesitation, a massive claw swiping toward my chest. I threw myself sideways, barely evading its blow, my shoulder slamming into the cold stone floor. Pain exploded through my side, my breath escaping in ragged gasps.
Scrambling upright, I narrowly dodged a crushing blow from its heavy tail, feeling the rush of air as it sailed past my head. My dagger flashed desperately, slicing at the creature's leg but my blade glanced off its thick scales, doing nothing but annoy it.
I retreated, heart hammering wildly. Each second was agony, every heartbeat a fight against unconsciousness. The draining runes sucked strength from my being, countered only by Last Stand's burning resilience.
The reptilian lunged again, relentless, striking faster, harder. Its claw caught my side, shredding skin and sending fresh blood splattering onto the stone. My vision blurred, the world was fading in and out, but desperation forced me to keep moving.
Summoning strength I shouldn't have, I charged forward, sliding under another blow, driving my dagger upward into the soft underside of its jaw. The blade sank deep, slicing through bone, flesh, and sinew.
The undead convulsed violently, gurgling sickly, then fell, lifeless, at my feet.
The runes finally dimmed, their oppressive pull retreating, leaving me broken and shuddering. My skill's strength ebbed as I collapsed beside the reptilian corpse, blood pooling beneath me. More energy suffused me, mending wounds and keeping me awake.
As I stared down at the lifeless reptilian undead, my vision wavered, exhaustion creeping through every fiber of my being. But before I could fully catch my breath, movement caught my eye.
The blackened blood of the undead slowly trickled along unseen grooves in the stone floor, winding its way toward the statue. As if guided by invisible hands, the blood climbed upward, defying gravity, filling the empty stone bowl clenched in the figure's outstretched hands.
A sense of dread pooled within my stomach.
My respite didn't last. On the final wall, yet another rune flared to life, its cruel glow brighter and more intense than the others. Once more the draining force surged through me, wrenching painfully at my core, my life force ebbing dangerously. Last Stand flared desperately, pushing back the exhaustion, forcing my battered body upright when all I wanted was to collapse.
From the newly opened chamber staggered another undead. This time, another goblin, small and twisted, a crude blade gripped in skeletal fingers. It hissed silently, jaw unhinging grotesquely.
Every instinct screamed at me to collapse, to surrender. But thoughts of Elise flashed through my mind, her desperate face pleading with me not to leave. With trembling fingers, I tightened my grip on my blood-slick dagger, muscles screaming in protest.
"Come on then!" I shouted.
One more fight, I promised silently, stumbling forward. I can do this one more time.
The goblin lunged, blade flashing. I dodged clumsily, barely avoiding the strike. Pain and fatigue made every movement sluggish, but desperation drove me. Last Stand burned in my veins, an inferno fueled by sheer willpower alone.
I drove my dagger into its chest, wrenching the blade free as the goblin collapsed, its blackened blood again trickling toward the statue's bowl.
One more, I promised myself again, gasping for breath as another rune ignited.
And again.
And again.
Each undead pushed me closer to the brink, each fight blurred into the next, every moment pure agony. But still, I fought, driven by desperation and the image of Elise's tear-stained face, determined not to let her down.
Time lost all meaning as I fought, trapped in an endless cycle of violence. One undead fell only for another to take its place—goblins, reptilians, wolves; the monsters blurred together, each fight robbing me of another fragment of myself and each kill healing me slowly. My skill burned continuously, raging like a desperate flame, barely staving off the oppressive force of the runes.
The chamber floor was slick with blood, both mine and theirs, painting the stones a grotesque crimson. My breaths came in ragged gasps, every muscle screamed in agony, every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking against my ribs. I was fighting not just undead but an endless despair, a grim understanding that this trial was designed to be unwinnable.
I'd realized the bitter truth a while ago. The bowl could never be filled. The blood drained slowly through an almost invisible crack, eternally unsatisfied. This place was a cruel joke meant to break me down, to see just how far I'd go before snapping.
But I refused. Not because I believed in victory, but because surrender wasn't an option. Elise waited for me somewhere out there, her tearful face etched in my mind. I'd promised her, I'd promised myself, I would always come home.
Another undead fell, a shadow wolf this time, its body dissolving into lifeless ruin at my feet. I staggered, dagger slipping from numb fingers, crashing onto the blood-slicked stone. My knees buckled, and I collapsed, utterly drained. My skill sputtered weakly within me, finally extinguished after hours of relentless battle.
My body was a ruin, broken and shredded. Bite marks, gashes, bruises—I was a tapestry of violence. Yet, somehow, I felt nothing. No pain. No relief. Just emptiness.
"Get up," I whispered hoarsely, my own voice sounding distant, alien. "Get…up…"
But my body no longer listened.
Through half-lidded eyes, I saw the runes begin to fade, their cruel glow diminishing until the room plunged into near-darkness. Somewhere in the haze, I heard the grinding of stone. Was it the entrance finally reopening, or just another undead sent to finish the job?
I couldn't tell. I couldn't even turn my head to look. It didn't matter.
With the last fragments of my consciousness slipping away, I finally gave in to exhaustion. The darkness claimed me, and I embraced it.