Chapter 91 – The Silent Village
The corridor was quiet again.
For the first time in what felt like days, John allowed himself to breathe without expecting something to lunge from the dark. The stone beneath him was warm from old magic, the walls breathing with faint runes that pulsed in a slow, sleepy rhythm.
He sat down heavily, back against the wall. Ember hopped from his shoulder to the ground, its light dimming to a soft glow that filled the corridor like a dying campfire.
Blake was already digging through his pack, pulling out a few ration bars that looked more like polished bricks than food. "When we get out of here," he muttered, "I'm begging sera to make that beef stew again."
John gave a faint grin. "Yeah, that was so good."
"I don't know what she puts in there but it's magic."
He tore into the ration bar anyway. The air smelled faintly metallic — Blake's poison aura was still unstable, seeping through his skin in thin threads of green mist. It shimmered faintly in the dim light, forming lazy spirals before fading away.
John closed his eyes and began to circulate his energy. His body was still heavy, but the ache from before had become something else — pressure, strength, balance. The Break-the-Mortal realm pulsed through his muscles like molten steel cooling in water. Every heartbeat felt like thunder in his bones.
Alaric's voice echoed faintly in his mind. "Your body has adapted faster than expected. That cultivation realm… it's not meant for your rank. But you broke through anyway. You really are an anomaly."
John didn't answer. He just breathed. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, faint lines of light tracing down his forearms, fading as quickly as they came.
Across from him, Blake had finished eating and was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, cultivating in silence. His aura was different now — calm on the surface, but beneath that calm was something coiled and venomous, a pulse that tasted like honey and ash.
For a long time, neither spoke.
The pyramid hummed around them, ancient and distant. Somewhere above, water dripped in slow rhythm.
Eventually, John leaned his head back against the wall. "How long has it been since you slept?"
Blake opened one eye. "Since before the first trial."
John exhaled a quiet laugh. "Same here."
"I'm gonna try and sleep for a bit." Blake shifted, lying back on the cold floor. "Wake me if anything tries to eat us."
John nodded, closing his eyes as well.
Within moments, both were asleep — not the kind of sleep that healed, but the desperate collapse of men who had run out of strength to stay awake. Ember stayed at the edge of the corridor, its light barely flickering, the quiet guardian of two broken cultivators resting in the heart of an ancient tomb.
The corridor they walked through felt wrong.
It wasn't the darkness — they had seen plenty of that — but the silence. There was no hum of runes, no breath of magic, no shifting of stone. Just the soft scrape of boots against dust and the faint rattle of armor.
Tamara held her sword low, its icy blade casting a soft blue shimmer along the walls. The light cut through the stillness, showing every crack in the sandstone.
"This place area feels weird," Sera whispered.
"It's definitely different from the other halls we have walked through," Vulgrat muttered behind her, adjusting the potions on his belt.
Mara glanced back at him. "What does that even mean?"
Tamara didn't slow. "Well all we can do is keep moving forward. We have to find the others. We have to find John."
They reached the end of the corridor.
A door stood there — massive, smooth, untouched by time. But unlike every other they'd seen, this one was blank. No runes. No carvings. No words.
Sera frowned. "Every other door had a trial name. Why not this one?"
For a moment, the group hesitated.
Then Tamara exhaled softly and stepped forward. "We're not turning back now."
Her hand pressed against the stone.
The door shuddered once, then split open down the center with a grinding moan that seemed to shake the bones in their chests. A rush of air spilled out — cold, stale, and tinged with rot.
The light from Tamara's sword bled into the room beyond, revealing a sight that made all four of them freeze.
They stood at the edge of a massive underground clearing.
A village stretched before them — crude huts made of stone and bone, connected by winding paths of black sand. At the center rose a single massive hut, its roof supported by carved pillars and adorned with chains that glowed faint red in the gloom.
Faint torches lined the pathways, but their flames were not fire — they burned with a deep green hue that offered no warmth.
"This is…" Vulgrat's voice trailed off. "It's a whole settlement."
Sera's eyes narrowed. "What is this place?"
Then came the movement.
At first, it was subtle — the soft creak of wood, the rustle of sand. Then dozens of small shapes emerged from between the huts.
They were the size of children, squat and malformed, their heads triangular like broken stone pyramids. Their skin was cracked and blackened, oozing dark ichor. Each creature had one large, swollen eye that pulsed with golden light, and mouths filled with jagged teeth that clicked in excitement.
Tamara's grip on her sword tightened. "They don't look friendly. Let's get into position."
Mara raised her shield, runes flaring to life across its surface. "Bulwark— active."
A pulse of energy burst from her feet, hardening the ground beneath them into dark stone. The runes etched into her shield began to glow red-hot, her defense doubling as a faint golden barrier shimmered into existence around her.
Vulgrat flicked his wrist, pulling two potion flasks from his belt. He whispered a quick chant and hurled them forward. The first exploded in a flash of green fire; the second burst into a cloud of corrosive mist that sizzled as it hit the ground.
The creatures screamed.
Dozens rushed forward at once, claws scraping the earth.
Sera raised both hands, whispering a spell under her breath. Threads of light spiraled from her palms, wrapping around her companions' legs like flowing silk. "Speed enhancement — cast!"
The world seemed to tilt. Their movements sharpened, breath syncing with unnatural precision.
Tamara moved first.
Her sword flashed, ice spreading along the ground in jagged spikes that caught three of the creatures mid-lunge, freezing them solid before shattering them into shards.
Mara slammed her shield forward, sending a shockwave rippling through the first wave. Stone cracked. A cluster of the monsters flew backward, smashing into a hut that collapsed under the force.
Vulgrat's next barrage of potions erupted into controlled chaos — explosions of flame and poison bursting across the battlefield. The fire didn't burn red, but violet, licking through the dark with eerie grace.
But for every creature that fell, more came crawling from the shadows. From doorways, from rooftops, from holes in the ground.
"Step Fives," Sera hissed, her eyes flashing with aura-sight. "No — some of them are Step Six!"
Tamara parried a claw that sparked against her sword. "Stay close. Keep the formation. Things are about to get bad!"
She spun, her sword cutting through two more, frost exploding outward like a silent scream.
Mara grunted as another slammed into her shield, claws scraping uselessly against the reinforced barrier. "We can't keep this up forever!"
"I agree," Tamara snapped. "But what else can we do?"
Vulgrat pulled out a flask that glowed bright red. "I've got a way to thin the crowd. Cover me for ten seconds!"
"Do it!"
The fight raged around them — ice against flame, shield against claw, spell against shriek.
And through it all, the pyramid watched.
The light from the central hut flickered, dimming. The chains hanging from its roof began to tremble, one by one.
Sera turned, eyes widening. "Something's coming out!"
From the darkness of the hut, a figure began to emerge — taller than the rest, its pyramid head cracked down the middle, leaking a steady flow of black ichor that hissed when it hit the ground.
It carried a weapon — a blade made from fused bone and gold, dripping with liquid shadow.
Its eye burned brighter than the others.
And as it raised its sword, the horde around it fell silent.
Tamara's breath steadied. She raised her sword.
"We won't be able to handle the new comer that looks like the leader. He's definitely step 7 at least," she said quietly.
The corrupted tribe howled as one.
And the second battle for the pyramid began.