They stood there for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only seconds. The stone giants didn't move. They just stared down at them with those hollow, burning eyes, each clutching a spear that could split the ground in half. Their feet were rooted before the temple — no, not a castle. This wasn't built for kings. It was built for something older. The kind of place where you didn't knock on the door unless you wanted your soul to be judged. The entrance was a wall of black stone carved into a door so massive it looked like it belonged to another world. Cracks ran down the surface, but the weight of it pressed on Ash like the thing might collapse on him just for looking too long.
He felt Max coming up beside him. Slowly, Ash tilted his head, lips moving without sound. Stay back. I'll deal with it.
Max frowned like he was the one dealing with a headache, not Ash.
Ash raised his hand, Washizaki ready to aim at the giants, when Max grabbed his wrist. His brother leaned in close and whispered,
"Yeah, I get it. You're worried about me. But don't be. I should be the one worried about you. Watching you throw yourself into suicide stunts every two seconds is giving me migraines. Dad told me to keep an eye on you two, and—surprise—I'm failing. So stop. Don't ever think about throwing your life away for mine. That's supposed to be my job. You think I'd enjoy watching my younger brother die for me?"
Ash froze at that. His anger didn't fade, but it bent under the weight of the words.
Max wasn't finished. His eyes were still locked on the giants.
"Also… I don't think they're here for us."
Ash blinked. "What makes you say that?"
Max tilted his chin toward the massive temple door, then pointed at one of the giants.
"They've been standing there all this time and haven't moved an inch. If it were anything else, we'd already be dead. Which means they're either very stupid… or very disciplined. I'm betting on disciplined. Look at them. They're not attacking us because that's not their job. Their only purpose is to spread their dreadmark. Not on us. On them."
He turned, gesturing toward the frozen army in the distance. The figures still locked in half-motions, some twitching like they were itching to be released.
"So, whoever's inside this place? Probably not part of the mess outside. At least, that's the hope."
Ash didn't answer. He was too busy staring upward. The spot where the five-eyed crow had been perched was empty. The thing was gone. His jaw tightened.
Max sighed and tapped his shoulder.
"Alright. Fine. I'll go along with you this time. Let's wait outside, see if Ty's done burning everything. Because trying to open that door? That's how you get turned into a smear under a giant's spear. I'd rather not risk it."
Ash gave him a nod and turned to leave. Max followed. But then—
Cracks split the silence. The courtyard shook with a deep groan. Both brothers turned back.
The temple door was opening.
The stone giants lowered their spears, their burning eyes dimming as if they were being told to stand down.
The door yawned wider, the kind of invitation that usually came with teeth. Inside was dark — thick, suffocating, the kind of dark that swallows more than it hides.
Max and Ash shared a glance. Max stepped forward, eager as a stray dog chasing scraps. Ash caught his shoulder.
"Max..."
His brother turned with that hopeful look only idiots and 'brothers who can't give up on something' managed. Ash sighed, because of course he did.
"Fine. Let's go in."
They stepped into the temple like men walking into a grave they hadn't dug. Both of them kept their eyes pinned on the two giants at the door, waiting for one of them to twitch, shift, sneeze — anything that would mean crushed bones in the next heartbeat.
The door slammed shut behind them. The sound echoed like a coffin lid dropping.
Darkness drowned the hall. Not the ordinary kind. This was the kind that made you wonder if your eyes had been scooped out.
Then the cold whisper came, blooming in Ash's skull.
"[Skill: Nightstalker's Sight]."
The black peeled back. The hall lit up, not with torches or sunfire, but with the clarity of the skill sharpening his vision. It didn't make the place less terrifying. If anything, it made it worse.
The hall stretched out like some cathedral built by lunatics — endless pillars, staircases that led nowhere, shadows thick enough to choke on. And in the middle of it all sat the thing.
Calling it a giant would've been polite. This wasn't a guard like the statues outside. This was their older, uglier brother — the one locked in the basement because even the family couldn't stand the sight of him.
It slumped on the stone floor like a discarded puppet, head tilted, limbs splayed as if its strings had been cut centuries ago. Its body was cracked marble and rotting flesh fused together, stitched with lines of glowing runes that crawled across its skin like veins full of fire.
Its eyes — if you could call those pits, eyes — were darker than the hall itself. Not the absence of light but something hungrier, like the world had forgotten to put anything inside them. Looking at them felt like leaning over a well that had no bottom.
And the worst part? It didn't move. Not a twitch. It just sat there, heavy and wrong, a mountain pretending to nap. The kind of nap where you pray it doesn't wake up, because you already know what happens if it does.
Behind it loomed four thrones, carved into the wall itself. They weren't made for men. Each was twice human height, draped in age and shadows. And one wasn't empty.
An old man sat in the second throne. His hair was grey, falling loose to his shoulders, his frame wrapped in heavy robes threaded with faint light, the kind priests would wear if priests had ever worshipped despair. His hands rested on the throne's arms, his posture tired, yet his gaze sharp. The kind of tired that still cut.
Max's voice broke the silence.
"So, Ash, what do you see? You're not giving me the usual 'stay back before you die horribly' signal, so I'll assume we're safe."
Ash didn't answer. He stepped forward, eyes fixed ahead. His voice came low.
"Not safe. Definitely not safe. There's a giant in front of us, better built than the door pets. But that's not even the weird part. There's also an old man. Twice our size. Sitting there. Staring. Isn't that just perfect—"
He stopped cold.
Max caught it. "What? What's wrong? Did the giant wake up?"
Ash shook his head slowly.
"Not the giant. The man. He just moved. His posture changed. And now... he's staring at us wide-eyed. Like we're the surprise."
Then the voice rolled through the hall.
"I was not mistaken. You can indeed see me."
It hit like a bell tolling inside bone. Old, deep voice, soaked in weight.
Max flinched, shoulders snapping tight.
Ash met the man's eyes. They didn't look away.
The voice came again, harder.
"To think such a skill exists. One that cuts through veil and shadow. Impressive. Unexpected. Tell me, human. why have you come here? Did I not make it clear to your master that this temple is forbidden? We do not tolerate guests. I would return you to the soil you crawled from... but the terms with your master bind me. And so, instead... I will erase you both."
The colossal stirred.
A groan rumbled through its chest, through the hall, through the marrow in their bones. The floor trembled as its head lifted.
Ash froze. Those eyes. when they opened, they weren't eyes. They were two burning voids, twin suns inverted, glowing with a light that devoured more than it gave.
Max saw nothing but dark, yet the moment the twin lights rose above him, his knees weakened. His breath hitched, his body screamed to kneel, to submit. He fought it, jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth.
The creature rose higher, higher still, until its head scraped the unseen ceiling.
The old man snapped his fingers. The hall blazed with sudden light.
Now Max saw it all — the old man, the marks carved across his robes, the thing standing in the center. A towering horror. Its head bent low to glare down at them.
Ash's eyes widened. For the first time in years, something clawed at his chest. Something rare. Something anyone would hate to feel especially when it comes to Ash.
Dreadmark.
His voice came hoarse. "Max... this isn't good. I feel a Dreadmark."
Max's stomach dropped. His eyes flew wide.
"No way. That would mean—"
Ash nodded, never breaking his stare at the colossus. His mouth was dry when he whispered it.
"A Tier Seven."