The temple smelled of wet stone and silence. A heavy silence, as if the deity once worshipped there had abandoned it forever.

  The sanctuary’s black columns were cloaked in moss and cracks, scarred by erosion and claws that belonged to no human creature. Shattered statues littered the central corridor, depicting the Water Devas, now reduced to headless silhouettes, eyeless, mouthless—as if they’d witnessed something horrific before being destroyed.

  The three moved between broken columns, wrapped in moss and vines that seemed to grow inverted. Roots dangled from the ceiling like blades, as if the temple itself tried to devour its visitors. Light filtering through cracks cast a golden veil over the rubble, but something was off in that glow—as if it reflected memories too ancient, too bloody.

  The scent was that of a millennia-old swamp. Of something dead that refused to die. Dampness, rusted iron, mold… and sulfur.

  Jay led the way. His worn cape barely hid his right arm, always wrapped in blue bandages that seemed to absorb more than just sweat. Layla had asked about it once. He always dodged.

  “Is it to hide an ancient secret or just for show?” she’d teased.

  He’d only smiled. And not answered.

  Layla followed, her axe resting on her shoulder. The weight didn’t faze her. Her eyes roamed the walls with vigilance—and suspicion.

  “Smells like someone buried a pig in here… then dug it up,” she muttered.

  “Smells like something that died regretting it,” Nessa replied, gripping her silver dagger tight.

  Then they appeared.

  Creatures stitched from darkness and bone, like forgotten soldiers in the ruins of time. They had glowing eyes and silent yawns of pain. Reanimated remnants, cursed by the place’s blight, doomed to linger where all had collapsed.

  Jay didn’t hesitate. He moved as if he’d faced this horror a thousand times before. And perhaps he had.

  Layla, laughing, carved a path like a thunderbolt in human form. Her axe spun and split flesh and bone with the ease of a tribal dance.

  Nessa was a flash. A crack. Her dagger struck true, and the bodies returned to the floor with a sound of relief.

  The creatures didn’t last. They were weak, freshly formed, unstable. Torn apart like rotten cloth.

  Jay narrowed his eyes.

  “This wasn’t all,” he said. “We’re being herded.”

  And then, the ambush.

  The mercenary dropped from a broken beam overhead, like a wounded crow. His body was clad in dark leather, gray-blue skin marked with living runes. A trenti. Of Kalnoth lineage, if Jay recognized right—and he always did.

  “Tch… what a disappointment,” the mercenary said, smirking sidelong.

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  No rehearsed speech. No introduction. Layla charged with a roar.

  The fight was brutal. Impacts echoed through the corridors. Jay and Nessa could barely keep up.

  But Layla was a living avalanche. Instinct, muscle, and joy in battle. She took him down. Broke his wrist, cracked his horns, spat on his armor like she scorned the threat itself.

  “Get up, you piece of trash—I’m just warming up, meow,” she laughed.

  Then he laughed too.

  A calm, confident laugh. From someone who hadn’t lost yet.

  From his cloak, he drew a small vial. Sealed with three layers of ancient runes. Inside, a living essence writhed like trapped smoke, purple and furious.

  Jay’s eyes widened.

  “No!” he shouted.

  Too late.

  The vial shattered.

  The sound—dry, internal—was like the crack of a giant bone splitting within everyone’s soul.

  The ground trembled. The air thickened, turned viscous. And the trenti… doubled over, as if his spine tried to flee his body.

  Runes ignited on his skin. Black veins erupted beneath his flesh. His eyes rolled back—and then the sky seemed to split.

  Portals.

  Several. Small, unstable, bleeding purple mist and a whispered cacophony. They opened around him, like cracks in the world’s fabric.

  The trenti tried to retreat, instinctively. He was confused, desperate—but his feet wouldn’t obey.

  Behind Nessa, the sword pulsed. Vibrated as if singing in another tongue.

  And then, they emerged.

  They didn’t march. They crawled.

  Things. Vortex Beasts. Nameless shadows.

  They didn’t want to live. They wanted only… to enter.

  They lunged at the trenti. One by one. Dozens. Hundreds.

  They forced themselves through his mouth, his eyes, his skin tearing to receive them.

  The vial, now dense smoke, began reshaping his body—bones cracking, muscles realigning, flesh twisted like cursed clay.

  This wasn’t a transformation.

  It was an occupation.

  The creature that rose… was no longer a man, no longer a trenti.

  It was a hoard of horrors.

  A hive of voices. A walking altar of agony.

  And it smiled.

  “Layla, wait!” Jay shouted.

  Layla didn’t wait.

  She charged again—out of bravery, stupidity, instinct. Jay tried to stop her, but there was no time.

  This time, the monster was faster. Stronger. Crueler. It met her with ease. Her arm twisted like straw. A savage blow tore through her flank, ripping muscle and shattering ribs. She was hurled against a column and fell with a wet thud.

  Her axe stayed where it fell.

  She tried to rise. Couldn’t.

  Jay ran. Stopped.

  The amazon’s body was pure pain—torn muscles, broken bones. She slid across the floor, coughing blood, eyes wide—still trying to smile.

  Nessa reached her first, kneeling beside the small kiteni. Silent tears fell.

  “Layla… stay with me, okay? Hey, stay with me…” she murmured.

  Jay couldn’t move.

  The scene was the same.

  How long ago? Another woman. Another cave. Another blood.

  Astariia.

  The memory hit like a blade: the scent of her rain-soaked hair, the sound of her laugh when she said she “didn’t need help beating a third-class demon,” and her last look—apologizing for dying.

  “You promised.”

  A soft, almost maternal voice… whispered behind him. It wasn’t real. But he heard it.

  “Jay. You swore…”

  “She’s going to die…”

  “Yes. Death is part of life.”

  “But she’s just a girl…”

  “So was Astariia. You’ve buried many girls, Jay. How many more do you plan to bury?”

  He dropped to his knees.

  The monster’s laugh echoed through the ruins.

  “A true hero… on his knees. Pathetic.”

  Layla coughed blood.

  Nessa wept.

  Jay lowered his eyes to his right arm.

  A golden light, impossible, seeped through his bandages. It wasn’t a paladin’s glow. It was something older. Deeper. More… true.

  The aura resonated with the sword floating behind Nessa. With the temple. With the world.

  The monster stepped back, confused.

  Jay raised his eyes.

  And then everything trembled.

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