The white light wasn't just bright. It was like a hail of knives piercing his nerves, piercing his skin all the way to his very bones. Ares held his breath, his body feeling like it was being torn apart. His vision was blank, but through the darkness, he saw shadows of people screaming, reaching, and pleading.
Shapeless hands tried to pull him into the vortex of light, as if to make him one of them.
"Ares!" Lyra's voice pierced the darkness. Her small but strong hand gripped his arm, holding him steady.
In an instant, Ares regained consciousness, as if Lyra's voice were an anchor holding him back from the mad current. He gritted his teeth and swung his sword, slashing at the shadowy hands that were trying to swallow him. The light around them began to crack like glass, shattering into flying shards.
When the light finally died down, they stood again on the ruined city street. Dust still billowed, rubble strewn about. But unlike before, silence now enveloped every corner. There were no more shadowy footsteps, no faint roars or screams.
Ryn turned, her eyes wide. "Alive again… we're alive." She patted her chest, then chuckled with relief. "I thought we were all ashes."
Lyra remained crouched, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead. "That wasn't just any battle. The energy we faced… wasn't that of a monster. It was… the dregs of thousands of failed souls."
Orion stood tall, his bow still gripped tightly. His gaze wasn't on the ruins, but on the crystal now floating slowly before them. The crystal was cracked, its white light pulsing, as if alive.
"The core of this world," Orion murmured. "Or at least, a fragment of something much greater."
Ares stared at the crystal, feeling a chill prickle. For a moment, he remembered his past scandals, the hateful stares from those who once admired him. He could almost hear the mocking whispers, You don't deserve to come back.
His hands clenched. "If this is the key… we must know how to use it."
The crystal suddenly vibrated, then shot a beam straight toward the city center. Like a guide. The ground cracked open, forming a descending passageway, shrouded in white mist.
Ryn snickered. "You're kidding. This world even gave us a gateway to the next hell."
Lyra swallowed. "Perhaps… that's the path we must take. There's no other choice."
Ares took a step forward, gazing at the passageway, which pulsed with a faint light. "If that's what leads us to the answer, then we'll go. But stay alert. This world never gives gifts without poison."
They descended.
Step by step, the echo of their footsteps felt like terror in itself. The passageway was long, its walls covered with ancient, faintly glowing symbols. Some of the symbols were broken, as if someone had deliberately destroyed them.
Lyra ran her hand over one, her brow furrowed. "This… is the realm's ancient language. I can only read part of it. This word means 'key,' and this one… 'sacrifice.'"
Ryn grinned bitterly. "Of course. There's always a price to pay."
Orion was silent, but his gaze was sharp, as if he had anticipated this from the start.
The end of the passage opened into an underground hall. The hall was so vast that the ceiling disappeared into darkness. Giant pillars supported the room, each carved with faint, grimacing faces.
In the center of the hall stood a stone altar, and upon it, something rested—a black sword, stuck upright, a faint red glow seeping from the blade.
The crystal in Ares's hand pulsed intensely, as if responding to the sword.
Ryn hissed. "Now, look at that. A top-tier weapon right in front of me. If I had that, I could be a legend."
"Shut your mouth," Orion cut in sharply. "That's no gift. It's a trap."
Lyra approached cautiously, her eyes focused on the altar. "That sword… doesn't seem like an ordinary artifact. Its energy… is the same as the mist that gives birth to shadows."
Ares felt something vibrate in his chest. The sword was calling to him. Not with a voice, but with a faint pull that pierced his mind. Take me, and you will win.
He shook his head slowly, trying to push away the whispers. But the tug grew stronger.
Suddenly, the hall shook. From the shadows between the pillars, new creatures emerged. They weren't as large as the previous giants, but their shapes were clearer—like warriors in black armor, with blank, eyeless faces. They held broken weapons, but the aura they radiated was hair-raising.
"Seriously?!" Ryn reached for her dagger. "We haven't even had a chance to rest yet!"
Lyra was already preparing a spell, blue light beginning to encircle her body. "They aren't wild shadows. They are… guardians of this altar."
Orion drew his bow, his eyes locked on the black sword. "They won't stop until we decide—take the sword, or destroy it."
Ares took a deep breath, his sword raised. He knew this choice was more than just an artifact. The sword could grant power, but it could also bind their souls forever to this cursed city.
But without a decision, they would all die here.
"I will—"
His voice was cut off by the loud roar of the shadow warriors. They charged as one, a wave of darkness once again engulfing the hall.
The black sword still trembled on the altar, waiting for someone brave enough—or foolish enough—to grasp it.
The shadow warriors charged like a storm. Their footsteps echoed, their rusted swords glinting in the red light that enveloped the underground hall.
Ares swung his sword sideways, cutting down two warriors at once. Their bodies shattered into black mist, but quickly reformed, their blank faces growing colder.
"It's no use!" Ryn shouted, her dagger dancing swiftly. "They rise again as quickly as we cut them!"
Lyra cast a protective spell, a wall of blue light stretching out before her. The warriors' attacks halted momentarily, but Lyra's energy was drained. Her breath was already ragged, her body trembling. "I can't hold them off for long! They're no ordinary shadows… their energy is tied to that altar!"
Orion, who had been firing arrow after arrow at the altar, finally spoke in a cold tone. "The answer is clear. As long as that sword is there, they will not stop."
Everyone's eyes turned to the altar. The black sword vibrated even more intensely, as if dancing in the red light. Its evil aura grew more piercing, a faint whisper slipping into their ears.
Take me. The power is in your grasp. You will conquer everything.
Ares felt that whisper most clearly. The words pierced his mind, reviving all the old wounds. He saw the cheers of the crowd, then the boos as he was knocked from the championship chair. He heard the reporters scorning him, the faces of his former teammates who betrayed him.
With me, you can prove them all wrong.
His hands trembled. Part of him wanted to rush forward, grab the sword, and end the suffering.
Ryn shouted, breaking his reverie. "Ares! Don't tell me you're tempted by that thing!" He slashed at one soldier, nearly being stabbed in the back before Orion saved him with a timely arrow. "Look around! That's definitely not a free weapon, bro! It's a curse!"
Lyra looked at Ares with worried eyes. "Don't… that sword binds souls. I can feel it. If you take it, you might never get out of here."
Orion remained silent, but his gaze was sharp, piercing Ares. It was as if he were testing him, waiting for his choice.
The wave of soldiers intensified. Hundreds of rusted swords slammed into Lyra's barrier at once, cracking the wall of light. Ryn and Ares were already being pushed into a corner, while Orion slowly backed away, still firing arrows but with a stern expression.
"If we don't do something now, we're all dead!" Ryn shouted.
Ares gritted his teeth. His gaze was fixed on the black sword. The aura grew stronger, as if sucking the air from his lungs.
Take me. Save them. Prove you're worthy.
As Lyra's barrier shattered, Ares made his decision.
He ran to the altar.
"Ares!" Lyra screamed, trying to grab his hand, but he had already leaped onto the stone altar.
Ares's hand gripped the hilt of the black sword.
A burst of red light engulfed the entire hall.
The shadowy warriors stopped attacking. They crouched, like an army that had just received a new commander. A faint scream filled the room, but this time it was more organized, like a chorus chanting one name: Ares.
Ares's eyes flashed red for a moment. His breath was heavy, his hands trembling. The black sword was cold, yet warm at the same time, as if pressed directly to his soul.
Lyra fell to her knees, her face pale. "No… you really…"
Ryn gaped, her voice choked. "Brother… what are you doing…?"
Orion remained silent, but his eyes were sharp, wary.
The whisper was now clear in Ares's ears.
You are the chosen one. They simply follow. With me, the world bends at your feet. But… you must pay one price—a bond.
Ares fell silent. His breath caught. He knew what it meant: to wield the power of this sword, he would have to sacrifice something. Something precious.
He turned to his companions—Lyra, Ryn, Orion.
Suddenly, the altar trembled, and the symbols around the hall lit up. A mechanical sound echoed, a hidden system processing Ares's choice.
[Choice detected.] Bound artifact.]
[Price determined: one bound soul.]
The system's voice was cold, emotionless, but it made the air in the hall grow heavier.
Ryn tensed. "Wait, don't tell me one of us will be the victim?!"
Lyra covered her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.
Orion raised his bow, staring straight at Ares. "If you truly choose that path... then I will not hesitate to fight you."
Ares fell silent, the black sword trembling in his hand. The shadows in the hall bowed, waiting. The white crystal they had carried since the city fell pulsed, as if resisting the dark power.
He stood at a crossroads that would determine everything: choose power at an unpayable price, or refuse and face death at the hands of thousands of shadow warriors.
The sword whispered again, louder this time, piercing straight into his ear.
Choose. Now.