The map had led Mars straight to the beautiful lady.
The path was short—barely a minute or two from the strange wooden cabinet—but his steps still felt heavier the closer he got. The forest opened into a clearing that seemed unnervingly normal, as though it were pretending to be safe.
And there she was.
Mars froze.
She didn't look like someone who needed saving. Not unless one ignored the abnormally large beast lying sprawled beside her, its body still warm.
He doubted he could have fought something like that. The sight made his stomach tighten.
The woman herself hadn't changed—or so he thought. Her face carried the same calm, unreadable expression. No fear. No anger. Not even satisfaction.
But her appearance was different.
The worn leather outfit was gone. In its place gleamed a suit of white armor, light and fitted, leaving gaps at the hands, waist, and legs for ease of movement. A golden lion's face was emblazoned on her chestplate, catching what little light bled through the canopy.
Mars's eyes trailed down to her weapon: a mace, simple and unadorned, dripping dark blood into the dirt.
He followed the blood trail to the beast.
A crude hybrid—wolf-like jaws stretched too far, the rest of its body hulking and bear-shaped. Thick fur matted with gore, claws like knives, a head nearly as big as Mars's torso.
The sheer size of it made his skin crawl.
"You found the key. Good work," the woman said casually, stepping past him.
Mars blinked. She didn't sound surprised—though he had been sure she would be.
The mace in her hand dissolved into a million tiny particles, scattering like dust before vanishing completely. The armor stayed.
Mars felt a spark of wonder.
"Was that magic… or just how weapons work here?" he muttered under his breath.
He wanted to ask more—but the air around her felt heavier now, as if daring him to break the silence. He decided against it.
They walked back together without speaking.
By the time they returned to the wooden cabinet, Mars's unease had grown familiar. He had seen this thing too many times already, yet its presence still made the hairs on his arms rise.
The woman stopped in front of it and held out her hand.
"The key," she said lazily.
Mars fished the broken shard of mirror from his pocket and handed it to her.
His heart thudded harder. What would happen this time?
She approached the cabinet—or whatever it was. Mars still wasn't sure it wasn't alive. She slipped the shard into the keyhole.
Nothing.
A quiet sigh escaped her. She bent closer to examine it, her expression one of slight irritation. Then she glanced back at him.
"Well? What do you think?"
Mars blinked.
Why is she asking me?
He wasn't stronger. He wasn't wiser. He was just the one following along.
He kept his face blank, refusing to answer.
She raised a brow, gesturing toward the cabinet.
"You found the key. Do you feel anything… off about it?"
Mars frowned and glanced at it again.
"I don't see anything strange. But…" He hesitated. "The air feels heavier than before. Like it's pressing down on me."
"It's nothing to worry about," she said, almost dismissively. "It'll pass."
Mars wasn't convinced, but her tone left no room for argument.
His gaze wandered to the cabinet's windows—black as pitch, reflecting nothing. They looked less like glass and more like holes into some lightless abyss.
"That doesn't look right," he muttered.
And then he saw it.
A single shard of mirror floated in the darkness beyond the glass. No reflections, no shine—just a hovering shape suspended in nothingness.
Recognition struck.
He turned to the woman. Her gaze had gone distant, almost unfocused.
"Can I have the key back?" he asked.
Without hesitation, she passed it to him.
He stepped toward the cabinet—not to the door but to the black window.
The woman watched him, clearly confused but silent.
Mars pressed the shard forward.
The glass didn't resist. It didn't shatter or rattle. Instead, the shard slipped through, soundless, as though sinking into water.
The key was accepted.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the world shuddered.
A deep pressure filled the clearing, squeezing his chest. Not as deafening as the whispers in the dark space , but still crushing.
Mars's breath caught. His knees buckled under the invisible weight.
The air vibrated.
Something had been woken.
Through the ringing in his ears, Mars turned to where the woman stood.
She hadn't moved. She simply stared ahead, past the trees, her eyes sharp and focused.
The ground trembled.
No—it was coming closer.
And whatever it was, it wasn't coming alone.
The ground shuddered beneath him.
Abnormalities tore through the forest like living storms. Trees snapped in half, shredded like paper in their wake. Even the sky seemed overrun, thick with flying horrors that circled above the canopy. The world had descended into chaos—raw, unrestrained, terrifying.
At the heart of it all, the strange wooden cabinet waited, silent and ominous. Its secrets remained intact. Its master? Determined to protect them.
Mars stood grim-faced, muscles taut, resisting the crushing pressure that had threatened to pin him to the earth. He kept his eyes on the back of the beautiful lady, imagining the fear he felt mirrored in her posture.
She glanced over her shoulder briefly, muttering under her breath. From her outstretched hands, yellow sparks ignited, flickering like trapped fireflies. They danced, twisted, and coalesced into a metallic box—brown, with a violet gem at its center. The same emblem carved on her armor shimmered faintly on its surface.
Mars stared. In a moment like this, he expected a weapon. Maces, swords, something to fight back the madness around them. Not… a box.
She tapped the gem lightly. A blinding white light erupted, washing over the chaotic clearing. Mars doubted the light was meant to strike down the abnormalities. It wasn't an attack—it was protection.
A barrier shimmered into existence around them, almost invisible but resolute. The cabinet was included within its protective envelope.
Mars narrowed his eyes. The barrier looked fragile, laughably so against the sheer number of creatures surrounding them. They were trapped. He couldn't fly. Though that didn't matter. They couldn't shift. The beautiful lady might have had some hidden ability, but for him, there was no escape.
Then the abominations hit.
The impact made the air vibrate. The barrier pulsed, ripples of purple spreading across glowing hexagonal patterns that bloomed in its surface. The advance halted—for now.
Mars's gaze flicked to the woman beside him. She sat cross-legged on the grass, utterly still, serene in the eye of the storm. Meditation in the middle of annihilation. He didn't question it. Not yet.
He approached the cabinet cautiously. The oppressive weight pressing on his chest had eased slightly, leaving only a faint memory of dread. The cabinet remained the same—dark, reflective, and alien. But something was different: the door was gone.
He turned to her. She had finished whatever ritual she had been performing. Calm. Unreadable.
Then she walked toward him.
"I don't suppose you know how to fly?" Her voice was flat, even.
Mars shrugged. "If I did, we wouldn't be here."
A curl of a smile—small, swirling—danced on her lips. Sarcasm. He hadn't seen it before. Almost no emotion had passed through that face… until now.
A sharp crack from the barrier snapped him back. Reality pressed in. Time was running out.
He searched his mind for answers, for ideas, for plans that might save them. There were none. Every scenario ended in the same conclusion: failure. Death, inevitable and complete.
He clenched his fists. Not yet. He refused.
There was more to this world. More to him. He couldn't end it here.
"Is there anything I should know?" he asked, facing her.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Let me rephrase," he continued. "Something I wouldn't be able to do?"
Her head tilted slightly. "Have you had… The Calling?"
Mars blinked. The words scraped at a memory, but nothing came.
"What is that?"
Her expression shifted, subtly—confusion, perhaps surprise. The second time he'd ever seen it.
Another crack split the air. The barrier groaned under the weight of the abnormalities pressing against it. Purple light dimmed to gray. Spiderweb-like fissures raced across its surface. Seconds remained.
Then her voice—soft, almost guilty—reached him.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Mars turned, confused.
"What… do you mean?"
The barrier trembled violently. He looked back. The end was coming.
And then… pain.
A cold, sharp agony tore through his gut. His vision blurred. Fear instantly gripped him .
Her hand. Inside him. Buried deep, impossibly deep, and holding him still with its icy grip.
He couldn't react. Shock rooted him to the spot.
Her face remained calm. Emotionless. Yet beneath that veneer, he glimpsed something cruel, calculated, cold.
Betrayal.
Why? It made no sense. If escape was her goal, why involve him? Why this?.
His emotions shifted from confusion to anger right before collapsing. Blood pooled beneath him. Pain clawed upward, his senses shredding.
The barrier shattered—an explosion of violet shards scattered into the clearing. The abnormalities surged forward, unstoppable.
And she—she was gone.
Silence, except for the chaos closing in.
Mars lay there, broken, the world around him collapsing.