Chapter 7: Trial by Steel and Shadows
Shiro woke up to the familiar, not-so-gentle sound of Khan's boot smacking his face.
"Get up, sack of regrets," Khan grunted. "You've got a dungeon to clear."
Shiro groaned, blinking rapidly as his face protested the rude awakening.
"Can't we just clear it together?"
Khan snorted. "Solo. That's how you grow."
Shiro flopped back onto the floor, sighing dramatically. "Yeah, solo. Because that always ends well."
Rin poked her head in, grinning mischievously. "Don't worry. If you die, I'll throw you a funeral party."
Shiro sat up, glaring. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
After a half-hearted breakfast (mostly stale bread and questionable stew), Khan shoved a worn leather satchel into Shiro's hands.
"Everything you'll need. Don't lose it. And try not to get yourself killed."
The entrance to the dungeon yawned before him—a dark maw etched into the side of the mountain. The air inside was thick with moisture and the scent of damp earth. Faint echoes of dripping water bounced off the rough stone walls as Shiro's boots crunched over scattered gravel.
He tightened his grip on the satchel and adjusted the worn sword strapped to his back—the only friend he could rely on in this shadowed maze.
A soft glow shimmered ahead, and a figure emerged: Hamiel, the enigmatic angel who had guided him before.
"Shiro," Hamiel's voice echoed, smooth but laced with something unreadable.
"To prove your worth, you must complete this task: retrieve the Heartstone from the dungeon's depths."
Shiro nodded, heart pounding. "Got it."
But as he moved forward, the shadows shifted. The walls seemed to twist and pulse—the dungeon itself growing darker, deadlier.
Hamiel's voice whispered in his mind, almost amused:
"Let's see how you fare, Shiro."
From the darkness came a skittering noise—sharp, quick, like claws scraping rock.
Three small creatures burst forth, grotesque and insectoid, their chitinous bodies glinting in the faint torchlight. Each had four spindly legs and razor-sharp pincers dripping with acidic saliva.
They hissed and lunged simultaneously.
Shiro barely dodged, the acidic spit sizzling against his arm as he rolled aside. He swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing clean through the first Clawling's neck.
The other two snapped forward. One grazed his shoulder, tearing through cloth and flesh.
Pain flared, but Shiro gritted his teeth and slammed the pommel into the second's mandibles, cracking it with a sickening crunch.
The last Clawling tried to flee, but a swift kick sent it sprawling against the wall, stunned. Shiro ended it with a precise stab.
The cave grew darker and colder as Shiro pressed onward. Water dripped steadily from jagged stalactites overhead, pooling into shallow puddles that mirrored his tired face.
His breaths came out in visible puffs, each step echoing in the narrow corridors. Faint whispers seemed to rise from the walls themselves, stirring unease deep in his gut.
Ancient runes etched into the stone glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie blue light that barely lit his way.
Shiro paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, muscles aching but mind focused. "No turning back now."
He slid past a fork in the path, choosing the left corridor where the cold felt sharpest.
The passage opened into a vaulted chamber. Shadows flickered unnaturally along the walls, twisting and coalescing.
Low, mournful cries echoed, reverberating off the cold stone. Suddenly, wisps of smoky darkness took form—humanoid figures with hollow, empty eyes and clawed fingers scraping the walls like dry bones.
They advanced silently, their icy touch sucking warmth from the air.
Shiro drew a small dagger from his satchel, the silver blade glinting coldly.
He moved with quick, precise strikes, cutting through the shadowy forms, but each touch drained his strength, and the shadows reformed like mist, relentless.
His heart pounded as breath grew shallow, but a desperate plunge into the largest shadow's core shattered it with a burst of cold light. The rest dissolved instantly.
Shiro stumbled forward, every step heavier than the last. His arms trembled, and his vision blurred from exhaustion.
The corridor twisted like a serpent's coil, walls narrowing until he had to squeeze through jagged cracks.
An acrid smell of sulfur assaulted his nostrils as he neared a vast cavern glittering with luminescent crystals.
The faint hum of arcane energy thrummed beneath his feet.
He knelt briefly to catch his breath, the satchel feeling impossibly heavy.
"Almost there," he whispered.
Suddenly, a low hiss echoed, reverberating through the cavern.
A massive serpent coiled into view, scales shimmering with shifting colors like liquid glass, eyes molten gold burning with cold intelligence.
Its forked tongue flicked, tasting the air as it slithered forward, claws clicking on stone.
Shiro steadied his sword.
The serpent lunged, jaws snapping inches from his face.
The battle surged in a blur of parries and strikes. The serpent's tail smashed stalagmites, sending shards flying.
Shiro ducked a crushing bite, stabbing repeatedly at the serpent's throat. But its scales deflected much of his blows.
The serpent coiled, squeezing with bone-crushing force.
Pain flared sharply as a jagged crystal shard embedded itself deep in Shiro's ribs.
Through gasps of pain, he drove his blade through the serpent's head with desperate strength.
The beast's body slackened and thudded to the cavern floor.
Bloodied and breathless, Shiro limped down a narrow, spiraling staircase leading deeper underground.
Cold wind bit through the cracks in the stone walls, carrying faint echoes of whispered promises and threats.
A haunting light pulsed ahead, drawing him like a moth.
Suddenly, Hamiel appeared, calm and radiant, but his eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
"You've done well," Hamiel said softly, "but your final trial awaits."
The chamber floor cracked open, revealing a pit from which emerged a towering figure clad in jagged black armor—the Guardian.
Its colossal sword crackled with dark energy.
The Guardian charged with terrifying speed.
Shiro dodged the first strike, but the next blow—a brutal sideways slash—caught his right eye.
Pain exploded, vision shattered into shards of red and black.
He fell to his knees, hands trembling as they touched his ruined face.
When he opened his left eye, a jagged X-shaped scar seared across the empty socket.
Blood pooled on the cold stone.
With grit and fury, Shiro rose, one-eyed but unbroken.
"This… is not the end."