Loneliness burned Hvom's mind.
He remained in that cold antechamber, lit only by the trembling flames of a makeshift fire.
"Just one more job... just one more..."
The thought echoed in his head like a desperate mantra, repeating with each ragged breath. His body, covered in dirt and dried sweat, trembled beside the fire. He was exhausted—in his bones, in his skin, in his very soul.
The room where he hid offered only a brief refuge before the dungeon's central corridor. Damp walls exuded an ancient odor, the still air heavy in his lungs... and the constant feeling that something watched him from the shadows never left.
"How many days have I been here?" he thought, dismayed.
"I need to keep going... those creatures are still hunting me. It must have been about forty minutes since I managed to lose them."
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. But time was no longer reliable down here. The hours distorted like the very reality of this cursed place.
It was a moment of tense calm, like the silence between two thunderclaps. Even so, Hvom couldn't keep his hand away from the hilt of his sword. The shield—oval, metallic, and battered—rested on his back, but seemed to weigh twice as much with each passing minute.
"I need to get up. If I stay here... I'll be cornered."
With a hoarse sigh, he rose.
He unstrapped the shield from his back with a dry click, while his sword cut the air as it left the sheath—a metallic, familiar sound that somehow comforted him. The fire still flickered, but he no longer felt any warmth.
He knelt and gathered a handful of loose earth from the damaged wall to his right. Carefully, he dragged the handful over the flames, smothering them until darkness reclaimed the environment.
"I swear by Exelion, this is my last job..."
"The last sound from those beasts came from the corridor behind me. If I follow this area ahead, maybe I'll be lucky enough to find another passage. My lamp oil should still be full. Walking through this endless dark is going to be tricky..."
Advancing down the corridor ahead, Hvom felt a shiver run up his spine, chilling each vertebra along the way.
The corpse of one of the creatures he had encountered earlier lay there, partially propped against the wall like an abandoned puppet.
It was a humanoid-looking being. Its skin, red as fresh blood, glistened under the faint lamplight.
The face was a grotesque deformity: eyeless, with a single enormous mouth occupying almost the entire face—sharp teeth, thin as blades, filled every inch of the interior, overlapping like needles in a macabre pincushion.
From its fingers sprouted curved claws, made of hardened, taut flesh, like hooks ready to snag something. Or someone.
But what caught his attention most was the top of the skull: open. Not burst, but surgically removed, as if something had extracted the brain with meticulous care.
"Fuck... just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I have to keep going."
"I just hope I don't have to meet whatever did this."
"It's my last job..."
Hvom then continued forward, reaching the end of the narrow passage and finding the dungeon's central corridor.
The place was vast, made of ancient stone, dusty and forgotten by time. Several leaks trickled down the walls, making the environment even colder and more oppressive. The floor was covered by a thin layer of water, ensuring that anyone trying to pass unnoticed would inevitably be betrayed by the soft splashing of their steps.
Continuing along the path, the air grew denser, difficult to breathe due to the constant cold. The walls became sparser, and finally, after walking for long minutes listening only to the sound of his steps in the water, he arrived.
"I'm finally here. The true beginning of the tomb-dungeon of Sah'tak."
"Well, there's no turning back now. I have to reach the tomb of this ancient god and steal a piece of its flesh."
"I hope Father and Mother will take me back home when I'm done..."
"This is my last job."
Hvom reached the true gates of the great tomb-dungeon of the ancient god of knowledge.
Above its entrance, words were carved into the rock: 'My esteemed brother's tomb lies within this mausoleum. All who feel confident in themselves shall be consumed by that same confidence'.
As he proceeded through the great gate, Hvom heard, coming from behind him, hurried and disordered footsteps.
Sounds of growls echoed in the distance, reverberating off the damp walls. Turning quickly, he realized: the creatures that had pursued him earlier had found him.
Three of them.
Fear seized his body like an icy wave, and he planted his feet firmly, ready for combat.
The creatures tracked him, running even faster in his direction—some trying to overtake the others in an uncoordinated and aggressive attack, like starving dogs competing for the same prey.
He then looked around, searching for any advantage.
The area just past the gate revealed itself as a large chamber, its ceiling partially collapsed. The upper part was overtaken by ancient trees that had grown among the rubble, their roots hanging down like skeletal fingers.
From there dripped the water that superficially filled the floor of the dungeon's central corridor.
Hvom ran into the hall.
Several pieces of debris from the collapsed ceiling formed natural barricades around the area. He hid behind a fallen column in the central-western part of the room.
The creatures reached the chamber, spreading out, slithering over the rubble like maddened dogs, howling and growling as if trying to locate their prey by sound.
The rush and tension worsened Hvom's breathing; he felt as if the dungeon air was trying to escape his lungs. He quickly circled around the nearby columns, trying to stay in motion, knowing that standing still would be his sentence.
As he rounded the last one, one of the creatures appeared. Both startled, and the monstrosity lunged, making a low leap. Hvom threw himself aside. At the end of the roll, he saw a shard of stone near him.
The creature, realizing it had missed the attack, charged towards him again, growling loudly, as if calling its companions while preparing for another jump.
Hvom waited firmly, kneeling. At the last second, just as it was about to leap again, he threw the stone at the creature's head. The impact disoriented it. It was enough.
A clean strike—the blade sank deep into the monster's throat, releasing a spurt of dark, viscous liquid.
"One down. Two to go."
There was no rest. Another creature appeared—and right after it, its sibling. Hvom, once again, observed his surroundings. He noticed that one of the pillars was barely standing, supported only by a piece of fallen debris from the ceiling.
Desperate, he ran to it and threw himself against its base.
The pillar cracked—and then fell with a deafening crash. The fall partially crushed one of the aberrations, its limbs twitching beneath the weight of the stone.
But this created an opening for the third to advance and bite his arm, tearing through the leather armor and skin with equal ease.
Hvom screamed.
He slammed his shield against the thing's face and struggled free, plunging his blade into the creature's head. It shrieked and spat a dark red liquid, almost like venous blood, which ran down the blade onto Hvom's hand.
The last sound heard was the blade being pulled from the aberration's skull. Hvom fell to his knees. The floor was cold. His leg trembled.
The surrounding water was red. The silence that followed brought no relief. Hvom leaned on his sword like a crutch. The crimson water mixed with the smell of open flesh and old sweat. His arm bled. His hands shook. But he was alive. Or thought he was.
It was then that the atmosphere changed. The air seemed to grow denser, thicker... The water began to vibrate slightly, as if the place was holding its breath.
The hairs on the back of Hvom's neck stood on end even before he understood why. A sound emerged—not like a roar or a scream, but like an abyssal whisper.
Coming from everywhere and nowhere. A sound that could be felt deep in the bones.
Hvom turned with difficulty, leaning on the pillar that had crushed one of the creatures. That's when he saw it. Something descended through the overgrown trees of the collapsed ceiling.
It didn't fly. It didn't walk. It floated, with morbid slowness, as if the air itself supported it out of fear.
It was large. Very large. It was shapeless, covered in plates of calcified flesh and pulsating veins. Tentacles sprouted from its body in all directions, each dripping a dark, viscous liquid. And on the tentacles—eyes. Many. All too small for the monster's size, but alive, attentive.
They opened slowly, one by one, in different directions—and all turned towards him at the same time, as if synchronized just to observe him.
Its mouth was wide, dripping something thick and dark. Its teeth, lined up, looked like needles molded inwards. As if nothing that entered could ever leave.
From the aberration, a corrupting and terrifying aura emanated, distorting the very air around it.
Hvom took a step back—and staggered. The creature stopped. The tentacles rose slightly, like snakes sniffing in the dark. And then, a voice resonated within Hvom's mind: "You carry his scent... the traitor's."
Hvom tried to raise his shield, but his arm barely responded.
The creature didn't move, just watched him, as if savoring the fear emanating from him.
"You shouldn't be here..."
Suddenly, one of the tentacles stiffened, and the eye at its tip glowed with para-causal hues.
A beam of dark energy shot towards Hvom. By survival instinct, his shield went up.
An impact. The sound echoed through the room, and pain lanced through his arm.
The shield cracked. Hvom fell backward onto the cold floor. His vision blurred. He coughed up blood, his ears ringing like a swarm of wasps.
The xorh'goth glided through the air, approaching in absolute silence.
The eyes on its tentacles blinked randomly, almost as if communicating with each other.
Hvom's consciousness faded, yet a single thought still resonated in his mind:
"Last job... after this... I go home...".