They walked up to the house and entered, immediately struck by what they saw:
A vast warehouse, overflowing with essence stones of every type, color, and size. Each one seemed to pulse with its own energy, almost conscious, casting glimmers that ranged from amber to deep violet.
Lennon studied everything carefully, setting down the stones he carried while memorizing every detail – he knew understanding their distribution and characteristics would be crucial for what was to come.
Then, the heavy air was torn by a deep, menacing male voice echoing from the back of the warehouse. The words were in no language Lennon knew, yet they carried a threatening weight that made every body tremble:
"Kra'thul vesh'mar! Ulthar se n'korr! Ish'vak drel noht se thu'raan!"
The guardians shrank back, eyes wide, as if each syllable carried steel and fire.
Lennon kept utterly silent, his heartbeat racing, feeling the terror even without grasping the exact meaning of the words – the deadly threat radiated from every sound.
From the darkness, the figure emerged.
It resembled the demonic guardian, but far more imposing, its blood-red eyes burning through the shadows.
It glided forward without touching the ground, seized one of the guardians, and crushed him against its form. The pressure was so immense the mask nearly cracked; then, with contempt, the entity released him, leaving him collapsed and breathless on the floor.
"Ulthar! Khr'taan se vesh'mar! Ish'vak n'drallak ulth se!" it commanded with absolute authority, before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Every guardian stood paralyzed, pale, unable to move. Lennon remained frozen, stunned, feeling the ground vanish beneath his feet.
An entity so powerful that even the guardians quaked before it – and he, just a prisoner, seemed insignificant in the face of such force.
The air still vibrated with its presence even after it had disappeared.
Lennon swallowed hard, his entire body on alert, realizing the true danger of this world wasn't only the arena's monsters, but beings capable of erasing will and courage with a single gesture.
The sense of vulnerability crushed his mind, yet it also stirred a dangerous curiosity – if that was the force ruling them, how far could he go to survive, and perhaps even matter, in this hell?
As they marched, chains appeared, dragging them along with mechanical precision.
The guardians resumed their unyielding, controlling postures, asserting their presence with every step.
Lennon, in the center, felt the weight of every gaze, every aura of watchfulness surrounding him.
His guardian halted abruptly, analyzing him as if peering straight through his mind.
Slowly, the guardian traced every movement, every gesture, searching for any sign something had been hidden or removed.
The others did the same, silent, impassive. But as before, they found nothing. The emptiness in Lennon's mind remained intact, and he breathed deeply, aware that even the slightest deviation could cost him dearly.
At last, the guardian broke the silence:
"Now, to solitary, as ordered."
Lennon shuddered. The word solitary sounded like a promise of torture beyond anything he had faced – beyond the arena, the monsters, or the endless hunt.
What unsettled him even more was the almost casual calm with which the guardians carried on, as if nothing had happened – no rage, no sadistic pleasure, only the precision of unbending machines.
As he was led away, a thought seared his mind:
"These… are not human!"
The realization sent a cold shiver through him, a blend of fear and silent respect.
With each step, Lennon felt the weight of the world pressing in, realizing that in this place the very concept of humanity had been replaced by something entirely different – and his survival depended on grasping this new order before it was too late.
The path stretched long and silent, carved through thick shadows that seemed to devour every shred of light.
Lennon walked in the middle of the line, the chains binding him clinking with each step, echoing like a signal to some unseen watcher.
As they moved farther from the mine, the mess hall, and the entrance to the guardian's chamber, the air grew colder, heavier, as though the atmosphere itself pressed against his mind. Ahead, the path narrowed, flanked by walls of black stone that swallowed all sound.
Then, rounding a curve, he saw the door.
The same dark chamber as before, where the screen had revealed his life after death, now emanated a sinister aura, almost alive.
Even from a distance, Lennon felt the weight of the terror radiating from within.
The door bore no visible handle, only strange symbols like black veins intertwining and pulsing with their own rhythm, each beat marking the arrival of something inevitable.
"Could this be… solitary? That dark place… and whatever else waits inside?" he thought, his heart racing, every fiber of his body begging for a breath of normalcy that would never come.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the dragging of chains and the distant footsteps of the other prisoners.
Everything conspired to make him feel he was about to enter a place where nothing familiar existed – no time, no hope, no mercy.
Every step toward the door was a reminder that here, reality itself bent to a fear even his superhuman mind could not fully decipher.
Lennon drew a deep breath, trying to steady the terror, but the sensation that something inside the darkness was watching him froze him in place.
Each second of approach stretched into an eternity, and the question pounding in his head remained unanswered: what awaited him behind that door, and why did this world of the forgotten seem determined to force him into the very heart of horror?
As they reached the door, Lennon's guardian opened it without warning and shoved him inside.
Crossing the threshold, Lennon froze completely, eyes wide at the horror unfolding before him.