(ALARIC'S POV)
Cold.
It pressed in from every direction—crushing, endless. My eyes snapped open as my lungs seized, instinct screaming before thought could form.
Water.
I was drowning.
The world was dark and heavy, sound warped into distant thunder. I forced myself not to gasp—forced my body still—and pushed mana through my veins. My armor obeyed instantly, dissolving into shadowy mist.
The weight vanished.
I kicked hard, arms slicing through freezing water. My chest burned, vision narrowing, until—
Air.
I broke the surface with a sharp, ragged inhale, dragging breath after breath as I clung to jagged stone. Water streamed from my hair as I hauled myself onto solid ground, coughing once before steadying.
"Of course," I muttered hoarsely, pulling mana back around myself.
The armor reformed with a familiar weight and click.
"This again."
The cavern stretched wide and tall, the ceiling swallowed by darkness. Pale crystals veined the stone walls, casting a dim, sickly glow over the underground lake behind me. The air smelled old. Stagnant.
Like something had been waiting.
I stood slowly, joints aching, and began to walk.
"Brings back memories," I said to the cave.
A few steps later, my boot stopped.
Something dark smeared the stone ahead of me.
Blood.
Not red.
Black.
My jaw tightened. "Goddamnit…"
The Scourge.
It clung to the ground unnaturally, thick and glossy, as though the stone itself rejected its existence. I followed the trail deeper into the cavern, each step careful, spear held low.
The air grew heavier.
Then the cavern opened.
At its center stood something vast.
The dungeon core.
Or what should have been.
A colossal mass loomed there—easily seven times my size—its body stitched together from mismatched limbs like a grotesque mockery of life. Arms of different lengths hung unevenly at its sides, joints bound by blackened sinew and glowing seams of mana. Its torso bulged and sagged in places, rising and falling as if it breathed.
Too many scars crossed its flesh, as though the body had been cut apart and sewn back together by unsteady, uncaring hands. Its face was human. Almost.
The eyes were sunken and wrong, unfocused yet aware. Its mouth was stretched into a permanent, uneven line, lips pale and cracked, as if it had forgotten how to speak.
It stood with its back to me.
Holding something.
I slowed, thoughts racing.
'Is this the core?
Then what was that golem? A guardian? A scout?'
The thing shifted.
It turned.
In its hands hung the corpse of an eagle-serpent.
Larger than the others. Its wings were torn, feathers soaked dark. Its serpentine tail hung limp, scales dulled and cracked. Whatever fierce presence it once carried was gone completely.
Black blood dripped from a wound in its chest, splashing soundlessly onto the stone below.
Fresh.
My grip tightened.
'That… is the core,' I realized.
'And that… is the invader.'
The stitched creature's eyes focused.
They met mine.
The air screamed.
Lightning surged along my spear as I moved, boots slamming against stone, mana roaring to life in my veins.
I ran.
________________________________________
(ADAM'S POV)
Darkness did not take me gently.
I sank into it, and the first thing I smelled was smoke.
It filled my lungs before I could stop it, thick and bitter, scraping down my throat like I was breathing ash instead of air. When my eyes opened, I was standing in the middle of my village.
My village, as it had been that day.
The houses still stood where they always had, but they were wrong. Roofs had collapsed inward, walls were split and blackened, and fire moved through the streets like it belonged there.
Flames crawled along the ground, licking at doorways and fences, patient and alive. The sky above was not a sky at all, only smoke glowing orange from below.
I tried to move. My legs refused.
Then I heard wings.
Not the sound of feathers, but something heavier, dragging heat behind it. I looked up, dread settling into my bones before my mind could catch up.
Brutus hovered above the village.
He wore a human shape, tall and familiar, like a cruel parody of a man. Ash Wings stretched from his back, vast and burning, shedding embers that drifted down like falling stars. His face was calm. Almost amused.
When his eyes met mine, he smiled.
My chest tightened. I tried to scream his name, to curse him, to beg. My mouth opened, but no sound came.
He descended slowly, never touching the ground, fire curling away from him in reverence.
"You should be grateful," he continued. "You got the privilege of life. Most don't get that."
That was when I saw them.
Crucifixes rose throughout the village, formed from ash and charred wood, their surfaces glowing faintly with heat. Bodies hung from them, silhouetted against the flames.
I recognized them instantly.
Alaric hung closest to me, his head bowed, armor cracked and burning away. Victoria was beside him, arms outstretched, her face streaked with soot and blood. Melina hung higher, eyes closed, lips moving as if she were still trying to cast a spell. The village elder was there. My aunt. People I had grown up with. People who had taught me, protected me, laughed with me.
All of them burning. All of them alive enough to look at me.
"Adam," my aunt called, her voice soft, almost gentle. "Why didn't you save us?"
The elder lifted his head, eyes glowing like embers. "You were right there."
I shook my head violently. I tried to tell them I was weak, that I was a child, that I had been terrified. The words stayed trapped inside me, useless and suffocating.
Brutus laughed quietly above us.
The crucifixes tilted.
One by one, they fell.
Their bodies dropped into the fire below, flames surging upward as they hit. I ran. I didn't remember deciding to move, only that suddenly I was sprinting forward, screaming soundlessly as I plunged into the flames after them.
The fire consumed me.
It burned my skin, my clothes, my lungs, but I did not die. I never died. I ran through it, hands grasping at nothing, pain screaming through every nerve as the voices followed me.
"Why you?"
"Why were you spared?"
"Why did you live?"
Their words layered over each other, pressing into my skull until I couldn't tell where one ended and another began. I clawed at my head, at my chest, at the fire itself, trying to tear the sound away.
"I didn't want this!" I tried to say. "I didn't choose this! You did this! You killed them!"
Brutus descended in front of me, untouched by the flames. He looked down at me with something close to pity.
"So?" He taunted. "Kill me, then! Strive for revenge!"
Through that fire filled storm, I stared into his dark soul.
"I WILL MASSACRE YOU!"
"I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!"
"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!"
"I WILL LEAVE YOU WITH NOTHING BUT PAIN!"
The fire surged.
The voices screamed.
And then—
I woke up.