Near the middle of the column, the Beastman brothers, Bahari and Habari, walked shoulder to shoulder. Their large frames cast long shadows across the stone path, their furred silhouettes stark against the crystalline light. They spoke in hushed tones, voices low enough to avoid carrying forward, though anyone nearby could hear the words slipping between their grins.
"Have you ever seen him transform?" Bahari asked, nodding toward Shun, who moved steadily ahead, his spike held with natural ease.
"No, I haven't," Habari replied, scratching at the thick fur beneath his chin. "He doesn't even breathe heavily after a fight. Do you think he's hiding something?"
"They say the Dragonborn can become massive creatures," Bahari continued, his voice tinged with intrigue. "Long tails, wings that stretch the horizon, all that old legend stuff."
Habari raised a brow, his yellow eyes glinting. "Do you believe that? That's ancient campfire talk."
"Are you calling our mother a liar?"
"I'm calling her a storyteller."
The two chuckled quietly, their laughter muffled by the tunnel's weight.
"But do you think we could take him?" Bahari asked, his eyes narrowing with a playful gleam.
"In a real match?" Habari clarified.
"Yes. No holding back."
Habari tilted his head, considering the question. "If he doesn't shift? Maybe. If he shifts? We'd be toast."
"I think we'd have a chance," Bahari insisted. "We've fought real monsters. Even Prime-tier hollows. That guy might be strong, but he bleeds like everyone else."
"Are you sure about that?" Habari asked, his tone skeptical.
"I'm willing to find out," Bahari said, a grin spreading across his face.
A third voice cut cleanly through their conversation. "Focus."
Toren's tone left no room for humor. The brothers looked up, finding the former soldier walking nearby, his steady pace unbroken. His sword remained slung across his back, but his presence alone carried weight, like a stone dropped into still water.
"Sorry, sorry," Bahari said, raising both hands in mock surrender.
"We were only talking," Habari added.
"Talk later," Toren said, his eyes fixed forward. "This place echoes."
The brothers fell silent for a few steps, their amusement briefly cooled. Bahari, however, wasn't content to let the thought die entirely. He leaned toward Toren, keeping his voice low. "Have you ever seen it?" he asked. "Shun, I mean. Shift into a dragon?"
Toren didn't respond immediately. The group moved forward, their boots brushing against broken crystal dust that crunched softly underfoot. Gusts of stale air brushed against their skin, carrying the faint tang of ether. Toren's silence stretched long enough that Bahari began to think he would ignore the question entirely.
Then Toren spoke, his voice low and measured. "It was during the Visitor's Siege."
Both brothers turned their heads, their ears twitching slightly.
"You were there?" Habari asked, his voice quieter now.
Toren gave a slight nod, his eyes still on the path ahead. "Most of us were pinned. The sky was burning, and the ground had split open from the bombardments. We were surrounded on three sides, no chance to fall back. I thought we were finished."
He paused, the memory flickering in his eyes like a distant flame. "Then something dropped out of the smoke."
The brothers stayed quiet, leaning closer, their earlier playfulness forgotten.
"It wasn't a full transformation. Not like the rumors," Toren said. "His arms changed first. Scales covered them. His bones stretched, elongated. His face stayed the same, but his eyes—those weren't humanoid. Not a chance in hell."
"What happened?" Bahari asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"He tore through everything," Toren said. "Silent the whole time. No battle cry. No roars. He didn't need to. But we still didn't win that fight. We had to abandon the south."
Toren's gaze shifted briefly to Shun, who was now turning a corner, unaware of the conversation behind him. The silver jian in his hand caught the crystal light, flashing like a beacon.
Bahari frowned, his earlier amusement replaced by something closer to awe. "So why doesn't he do it now?" he asked.
Toren's expression didn't change. "I'm not sure."
Habari glanced at Shun's back again, watching how calmly he walked, how balanced each step was, as if nothing in the world could shake him. "I suppose that makes sense," he said quietly. "He's careful."
"He's more than careful," Toren said. "Like he's carrying the weight of the world on his back."
The group pressed forward, unaware that the crystal glow was starting to fade ever so slightly, as if the light itself feared what waited deeper within the mountain. The air grew heavier, the scent of minerals and ether thickening. Ahead, Shun raised a hand, signaling for the team to halt. Another fork in the tunnel loomed before them, its paths branching into darkness.
He glanced back, his voice calm but firm. "Lira, Toren. Come forward."
The two moved to the front, their steps swift and silent. Lira's bow was slung over her shoulder, her quiver full of freshly fletched arrows. Toren's sword remained at his back, but his hand rested near its handle, ready to draw at a moment's notice. They joined Shun at the fork, their eyes scanning the diverging paths.
Bahari crossed his arms, glancing at the ceiling where the crystals pulsed faintly. "I still want to spar him one day," he muttered.
Habari snorted, his grin returning. "You have a death wish."
"No," Bahari said, his smile widening. "I have curiosity."
The group stood at the edge of the fork, the tunnels stretching into shadow. Shun studied the paths, his expression unreadable. The left tunnel sloped downward, its walls smooth and unmarred, as if carved by something other than nature. The right tunnel was rougher, its floor littered with broken stone and faint traces of crystalline dust. Both paths hummed with ether, but the left carried a sharper edge, a warning in its silence.
"Lira," Shun said, his voice steady. "What do you see?"
Lira stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied the tunnels. Her fingers brushed the fletching of an arrow, a habit born of focus. "The left path feels wrong," she said. "Too clean. Like it's waiting for us. The right one's been used. There's movement in the dust."
Shun nodded, his gaze shifting to Toren. "Your thoughts?"
Toren stepped closer to the right tunnel, crouching to examine the scattered stones. "She's right," he said. "Something's been through here. Not long ago. The dust is disturbed, but there's no blood. No bodies."
Shun considered their words, his hand resting lightly on his jian's hilt. The soldiers behind him waited, their breaths shallow, their hands on their weapons. The labyrinth had taught them to trust Shun's decisions, not because he was infallible, but because he had kept them alive this long.
"We take the right path," Shun said finally. "Stay close. Watch the shadows."
The group moved forward, their formation tightening as the tunnel narrowed. The crystalline light dimmed further, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The air grew colder, the scent of ether sharper now, almost metallic. Shun led the way, his steps measured, his blade gleaming faintly. Lira and Toren flanked him, their senses alert, while the Beastman brothers brought up the rear, their earlier banter replaced by focus.
The tunnel curved sharply, opening into a wider chamber. The ceiling arched high above, studded with massive crystals that pulsed like dying stars. The floor was uneven, littered with shards of broken stone and faint traces of crystalline dust. In the center of the chamber, a faint glow emanated from a jagged altar, its surface etched with runes that seemed to writhe in the dim light.
Shun raised a hand, halting the group. His eyes locked on the altar, his posture tense. "Something's here," he said, his voice low. "Prepare yourselves."