They wore nothing. Not a stitch of clothing, only the faint, glistening traces of seed still smeared along their inner thighs and lower abdomens—evidence of what had passed between them not long ago. Their sweat, once dripping hot from their bodies, was beginning to dry, leaving behind thin white lines of salt etched across sun-darkened skin. They were bare to the world, fully exposed—yet not weak. There was no shame in their nudity, no hesitation in the way they stood. It was not innocence they had lost, but the need for pretense. Even so, they both knew: they would need to cover themselves soon. The world outside was waiting, and it would not greet them kindly.
Minoros picked up his double-bladed axe, the weapon he had wielded for centuries. The steel glinted faintly in the firelight, and the dark wooden handle was carved with ancient symbols, like protective charms for its bearer.
"I know the way," he said, his voice low and firm. "This chamber lies at the center of a labyrinth, buried deep beneath the old temple. I was its only guardian. The exit is behind the northern stone steps. I used to drive boars through it to test the traps."
Aerax raised an eyebrow. "Boars?"
"Not the ordinary kind. Huge, scaled. Four horns. Practically beasts. But the meat is good." Minoros licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. "If we kill one, we'll have meat, hide for clothing, and horns strong enough to carve into weapons."
Aerax nodded. "Lead the way."
They moved through the crumbling corridors, their bare feet stepping over cold stone and broken tile. The torchlight was fading, but their eyes, sharpened by divine blood, were beginning to adjust to the dark. The air changed. A breeze. Scratching sounds. And the sharp stench of animal dung, mixed with moss and damp stone.
"They're close," Minoros whispered, raising a hand to signal silence.
From a low arch, a heavy, snorting breath echoed, deep and slow like a furious bull. Aerax held his breath.
Then it appeared.
A massive boar, its skin gray as stone, its body armored with thick scales. Two pairs of black horns curled from either side of its head like hooked blades. Its eyes burned red. It moved toward them slowly, confidently, fully aware it held the upper hand.
"If we take it down, we'll have something to wear," Minoros muttered. He stepped forward, his axe spinning in hand.
Aerax didn't hesitate. Unarmed, he crouched and grabbed a large rock, hurling it straight at the beast's left eye. The boar let out a piercing roar, thrashing its head wildly before charging like a battering ram.
Minoros waited until the last second, then pivoted to the side and brought his axe down on its neck with a blow hard enough to crack stone. The blade sank into the scales but didn't cut through. Black blood began to gush from the wound.
Aerax leapt onto its back from behind, grabbing one of the horns and using his weight to wrench the creature's head to the side.
"Hit the neck! Hard!" he shouted.
Minoros roared, lifted the axe again, and struck the gushing wound. Once. Twice. Until the boar's head sagged and its massive body trembled, then collapsed with a bone-shaking thud.
They stood over the corpse, panting, their bare bodies streaked with sweat and dirt.
"That was brutal," Aerax muttered. "But… look at those horns."
He crouched, pulling one of the glossy black horns, nearly the length of his forearm. It was hard as steel, sharp at the tip, yet still slightly flexible.
"This could make a fine blade," he said.
Minoros laughed. "Just don't stab me in my sleep."
"No promises," Aerax smirked.
They got to work. Cutting meat, skinning the carcass. The smell of blood and beast hung heavy in the air, but Aerax didn't flinch. He had danced with death too many times to be bothered by a little filth.
Minoros skillfully harvested the best cuts—thighs and ribs—then tied them into bundles with leather strips. Aerax, after peeling off a thick piece of hide, wrapped it around his waist like a crude loincloth. Another piece he draped over his shoulder like a cloak.
"Looks good on you," Minoros said, glancing over. "You look like a tribal warlord."
Aerax didn't respond. He was sharpening one of the horns on a rough stone. Each stroke was steady, deliberate, until the tip gleamed with a curved, blade-like edge. He cut a strip of hide, wrapped it around the base for a grip.
"A new weapon," he said, holding it up with satisfaction. "Useful if we meet something… bigger than this."
After the battle, sweat began to form again. Their bodies were caked in dust, boar slime, and the lingering stains from earlier intimacy. The scent was so thick, Minoros wrinkled his nose.
"I need a bath."
"You know any place nearby with water?" Aerax asked.
Minoros nodded. "Side tunnel to the left. Follow the rock vein and you'll find a spring. That's where I used to bathe… it's freezing."
They continued, now half-covered in crude hides. Both were silent, but their steps were steady. When the sky appeared through cracks in the stone above, they knew they were close to the surface.
And then, they found it.
A rushing spring, cold and clear, weaving through smooth white stones. Neither of them hesitated. They stripped off the hides and dove in.
"Cold as hell," Minoros hissed.
Aerax only smiled and dunked his head beneath the water, letting it cleanse his skin, his mane, and the last remnants of what had happened deep inside the temple. The chill bit into his body, but it felt like redemption.
They swam toward the center, naked under the moonlight, their skin glistening, their breaths light.
"I have a question," Aerax said. "Why did you choose to follow me?"
Minoros tilted his head. Water coiled off his shoulders like silver snakes.
"You drank the blood of a god. The very thing I protected for centuries now flows in you."
Aerax smiled. But in his eyes there was more than gratitude. There was ambition. Something was awakening—not just from the divine blood, but from this journey.
He looked toward the distant mountains.
"Not because you like the way I feel inside you?" His hand slid across Minoros's butt.
Minoros turned away, flustered, saying nothing.