Vale's eyes narrowed as he focused on the words etched into the stone.
''The Father of Flaws.''
A faint unease stirred in his chest. He was certain, absolutely certain, that he had heard that name before. Somewhere. The memory hovered just beyond his reach, like a half-remembered dream that dissolved the moment he tried to grasp it.
A lot had happened since then. Too much.
It wasn't surprising that he couldn't pinpoint where he had heard it, but that didn't stop the name from bothering him. Names had weight. Power. And this one felt heavy, like a stone lodged deep in his thoughts.
Vale lowered his gaze to the skeleton seated against the wall.
"The Father of Flaws," he said quietly. "Was he your god?"
The chamber offered no answer.
"The savior you spoke of?"
Silence stretched on, thick and unmoving. Vale closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. Whatever answers these people had once hoped for were long gone.
As he looked deeper into the chamber, something else caught his attention.
A closet.
It stood near the far wall, partially obscured by collapsed tables and scattered bones. Vale frowned and made his way toward it, stepping carefully over remains that crunched softly beneath his boots. The closer he got, the more wrong it felt.
The closet was made of dark wood, and unlike everything else in the chamber, it was pristine.
No cracks. No rot. No dust.
Untouched by time.
Vale circled it once, suspicion tightening his chest. His hand hovered near the door for several seconds before he finally reached out. He held his breath and pulled it open.
His eyes widened.
Inside was the small skeleton of a child.
Vale staggered back instinctively, his stomach twisting violently. The inside of the closet was stained crimson, the darkened remains of dried blood painting the wood like a grotesque mural. The smell of iron clung thickly to the air.
The child had been scared.
That much was undeniable.
Vale covered his mouth, horror flooding through him as he looked back at the chamber, at the bones, the altar, the blood-written prayers. His voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Just… what happened here?"
His gaze returned to the closet, and that was when he noticed it.
Clutched in the child's skeletal arms was a mask.
Vale hesitated, dread coiling in his gut. Slowly, carefully, he reached in and took it. The mask was cool to the touch, heavier than it looked. He turned it over in his hands.
There were no eyeholes.
At its center, engraved into the upper portion, was a single golden sun, simple, radiant and unsettling. The rest of the mask was pitch black, swallowing the light around it rather than reflecting it.
Vale frowned.
Curiosity won out over caution.
He lifted the mask and placed it over his face.
It fit perfectly.
The moment he released it, a strange sensation washed over him, like pressure equalizing, like a veil being torn away. He opened his eyes.
And froze.
He could see.
No, he could see better.
The chamber sharpened into impossible clarity. Every grain of dust, every fracture in the stone, every subtle movement of air became visible to him. He felt vibrations beneath his feet, faint tremors far below the surface. He heard distant echoes, his own breathing, his heartbeat, the subtle groan of the cavern itself.
Vale looked down at his hands, his breath hitching.
The mask was not ordinary.
It enhanced him. Every sense amplified far beyond human limits.
Then something else caught his attention.
A scent.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Iron.
Vale turned his head slowly toward one of the dust-covered walls. Guided by the smell, he moved closer, until his foot struck something solid.
A skull.
He looked down. The hollow eyes stared back at him, empty and unjudging. A strange emotion filled his chest, something heavy, something mournful.
"You can rest now," Vale said quietly.
The words felt… different.
It took him a second to realize why.
His voice.
It was deeper. Calmer. Not quite his own.
His eyes widened. Vale tore the mask from his face and stared at it, his pulse racing.
"What happened?" he asked aloud.
His voice was normal again.
The mask had changed it.
Why? He didn't know. And that unsettled him more than anything else so far.
After a moment, Vale exhaled and put the mask back on.
The scent of iron returned instantly, stronger now. He followed it to the wall, hesitating only briefly before brushing away the dust.
His eyes widened.
The stone beneath was smeared with dried blood.
Words covered the wall, countless messages, overlapping and frantic, all written in the same dark red. Every single one said the same thing.
Vale stepped back slowly, his voice echoing through the chamber as he read them aloud.
"Kill the false angels."
A chill crawled up his spine.
Vale swept his gaze across the cave once more, searching for anything, anything at all, he might have missed. Even with the enhanced senses granted by the strange mask, he could detect nothing new. No hidden passages. No lingering movement. No echoes beyond those he had already mapped in his mind.
Nothing.
As he turned again, his eyes lingered on the bloodstained walls. Dark smears stretched across the stone like desperate brushstrokes, old and dried, yet still heavy with meaning. Something about them unsettled him. Vale paused, his thoughts circling back to the words etched into his memory.
A false angel.
What had they meant by that? Had this "false angel" slaughtered these people? Or had they died some slower, more natural death?
No. That couldn't be right.
Vale clenched his jaw and scanned the cave again. This couldn't be all there was. Places like this didn't simply end in silence and blood. There had to be something he'd overlooked, some clue that would explain what had happened here.
He had just taken a step forward when his senses flared violently.
Without thinking, Vale stopped and drew his spear in a single fluid motion. The stone beneath his feet trembled. Vibrations rippled through the cave ceiling, growing stronger by the heartbeat. Whatever it was, it was coming from above.
Then the stone exploded.
A massive centipede tore through the ceiling, showering the cavern with shards of rock. Time seemed to slow, the world sharpening into crystal clarity as Vale's focus locked in. He didn't retreat. He didn't hesitate.
Instead, he lowered his spear and dropped to one knee.
The centipede lunged, its mandibles spreading wide, its mouth a dark, writhing tunnel of death. Vale aligned the spear perfectly, bracing it against the ground. The creature's own momentum did the rest.
With a sickening crunch, the spear punched straight through its body from the inside.
The centipede convulsed once, then went limp.
Vale twisted away and leapt back, breathing hard as the corpse slid down the spear and collapsed onto the stone floor. His chest heaved beneath his armor as he steadied himself.
Centipedes were different from the scorpions. Reckless. Where scorpions fought with caution and instinct for survival, centipedes abandoned all restraint. They didn't defend themselves, they only attacked. Killing their prey was their sole purpose.
That single-minded aggression made them easier to kill, despite their immensely tough carapace.
Still… something felt wrong.
Vale pressed a hand to his chest, his breath slowly evening out. His senses were still screaming. He had felt the centipede coming, but he'd already killed one like this earlier, together with Eskar. Predators rarely shared territory without reason.
Slowly, cautiously, Vale approached the fallen creature.
Above him, the centipede's lifeless body finally detached from the ceiling and crashed fully to the ground with a thunderous rumble. Dust billowed through the air. Vale gripped the lower haft of his spear and wrenched it free from the corpse with visible effort.
He ran his hand along the creature's carapace, feeling the cold, segmented armor beneath his fingers.
"Why are you here?" he muttered.
The moment the words left his lips, his senses flared again, stronger this time.
Vale stiffened. His head snapped upward as he spun in place, spear raised, scanning the cave in a frantic sweep. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, soaking the skin beneath his mask. His breathing quickened.
Nothing.
The sensation lingered just long enough to be unbearable.
Vale reached up and tore the mask from his face.
Instantly, the world dulled. The overwhelming flood of sensation vanished, replaced by ordinary sight and sound. For a brief, fragile moment, there was only silence.
Then the cave erupted.
Three massive centipedes burst from the rocky walls, stone cracking and collapsing as their armored bodies forced their way through. Chunks of rock crashed to the floor as the cavern groaned in protest, fissures spreading through the ceiling.
The cave was becoming unstable.
Vale tightened his grip on the spear as he faced them. All three clicked their mandibles violently, the sound sharp and rhythmic, echoing through the chamber like a death chant.
They were bigger, stronger.
His mind raced as he assessed them. The only reason he'd killed the first one so easily was because it had lined itself up perfectly for a fatal strike. These three wouldn't make the same mistake.
They wouldn't go down easily.
Cold sweat ran freely now as Vale realized the truth with chilling clarity.
If he stayed here,
His death was not a possibility.
It was a certainty.