The unpaved roads of the city lay desolate, occupied only by swirling vortexes of dust. Suddenly, the heavy silence was shattered by the rhythmic thunder of galloping hooves. A moment later, General Valerius emerged from the shroud of dust, pushing his steed to its absolute limit toward the grand Arena. Close behind him, the High Magus and his alchemists rode desperately, struggling to close the rushing gap.
"General Valerius, halt!" the High Magus's voice pierced through the howling wind. "There is something vital I haven't told you yet!"
The General did not look back, his grim gaze fixed forward. "High Magus, turn back! I have no time—I must reach the Arena!"
Despite the warning, the High Magus did not yield. He snapped the reins, urging his horse even faster. As they neared, the towering stone walls of the Arena began to shimmer through the thickets of barren trees. Valerius looked up; vultures and crows were circling overhead like grim harbingers of impending death.
The sight made the General's heart sink. He lashed the reins with renewed ferocity. Upon reaching the massive iron gates of the Arena, Valerius leapt from his moving horse without wasting a single heartbeat. From within the stone walls, the horrific cacophony of agonizing screams, clashing steel, and brutal death echoed.
The General sprinted toward the royal seating area. Behind him, the alchemists abandoned their mounts and followed in a frantic dash. Charging up the steps, Valerius came to a sudden halt beside King Argus. There, he saw Commander Seraphina standing guard at the King's left, her expression tense.
King Argus looked at the General with cold, piercing eyes. "General Valerius... where have you been?"
Before the General could utter a word, the Commander intervened. "My Lord, the General has been searching for Daker since last night."
A dangerous, malicious glint flashed in King Argus's kohl-rimmed eyes. He cast a sharp, sideways glance at the Commander. The sheer terror of that gaze made Seraphina flinch; she instantly straightened her posture, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her spear with immense force.
"Seraphina," the King growled, staring her down with suffocating pressure. "Open your mouth only when you are spoken to. I forgive you this once; such insolence will not be tolerated again."
"Yes, My Lord," Seraphina whispered, lowering her gaze.
Suddenly, an eerie, suffocating silence fell over the grounds. The women standing atop the Arena walls in a massive, complete circle surrounding the entire perimeter, who had been wailing in grief until then, went completely quiet. Then, in a gruesome, synchronized chain of madness, they began to hurl themselves from the high walls into the bloody pit below.
The sickening thuds of bodies colliding with the heavy metal barricade echoed through the arena, followed by a deep, metallic groan and the violent clanging of the iron structure under the sudden weight. The thick, vertical metal bars and sharp spikes impaled them mid-air, leaving them to draw their final, agonizing breaths while suspended on the rusted barrier. Blood began to ooze and gush from their countless wounds, pouring down the metal frame until the entire barricade turned a horrific crimson, dripping wet and slick with their lifeblood. General Valerius and the High Magus watched in absolute horror as the mass suicide unfolded.
Gritting his teeth, the General muttered to himself, "What is this madness? Why are they taking their own lives?!"
At that moment, the High Magus and Taro approached the General. The Magus whispered urgently into his ear, "General, step back into the shadows for a moment. I have something of grave importance to tell you."
Without making a sound, Valerius retreated toward the dark stairs they had just ascended. There, hidden from the King's view, the High Magus produced an ancient, weathered document.
"General, look at this script," the Magus said, his voice trembling slightly. "If these words are viewed through the eyes of any other living creature, the writing morphs completely. Every being perceives it in their own native tongue. Do you understand what this implies?"
The General nodded grimly. "It means this wasn't written by a King of the old era... it was commissioned to someone else."
"Yes, General," the High Magus replied. "But the one who penned this was not human. This handwriting belongs to the champion of the 'Dire Dirge Tournament' of that ancient era. This letter was dictated to him, but the true author's identity has been meticulously hidden."
The General's anxiety flared. "But what use is this information now? And why did those women jump?!"
The High Magus's face was pale with absolute dread. "A deeper reading of this cursed document reveals the horrific truth. Those women weren't murdered; they were forced into suicide by a sorcerous, irresistible hex. General... this is no mere competition. This is a 'Pit of Sacrifice' where thousands are meant to be slaughtered. It is a Great Ritual."
Before the General could process the weight of those words, a collective, blood-curdling scream erupted from the Arena below. Suddenly, an object came flying through the air, hurtling straight toward the royal box. King Argus calmly placed a hand on his beard and, with a devilish, unbothered smile, shifted his head by a mere inch.
A severed head whizzed past the King's ear, terrifying the alchemists behind him before tumbling violently down the stone stairs.
The head rolled down the steps, stopping right between Valerius's feet. The Magus picked it up, presenting it to the General. The moment Valerius recognized the face, his hands began to tremble violently.
"This... this is Mess!"
It was the locksmith who had opened the General's wooden chest just the night before. His dead eyes were still wide open in terror. With shaking hands, Valerius gently closed the dead man's eyelids. A deep sense of personal loss and fury clouded his face as he remembered Mess's humble smile from the previous night.
"Mess... why did you ever enter this cursed tournament?" the General hissed through clenched teeth.
As the chaos in the arena intensified, the General turned to the Magus. "We must get back up." The Magus panted, "General, I cannot move as fast as you." Valerius stayed firmly by his side, knowing that if the old Magus were left alone, a panicked knight might mistake his strange attire and strike him down. They ascended together.
Down in the center of the bloody grounds, a rogue knight stood over the fresh corpse of a commoner he had just butchered. At the top, the King gave a mysterious, subtle signal, and several dark shadows lurking within the royal crowd vanished into thin air.
The scene shifts to a crumbling, forgotten ruin far from the city. The fortress was small, ancient, and built of shattered, moss-covered stone. Several figures clad in pitch-black robes arrived at the threshold, carrying an ornate vessel filled with glowing water.
Inside the ruins lay a dark path leading down into a subterranean basement. One of the cloaked men stepped forward, sprinkling drops of water from the vessel onto himself and his companions. Then, two men struck their torches to life.
As the fiery orange light flared, it revealed stone stairs descending deep into the bowels of the earth. There, another chilling detail became visible—a thick, weathered rope was tied to the stone wall beside the stairs, trailing down like a serpent into the pitch-black depths of the basement.
A foul stench, like the rot of forgotten centuries and stagnant blood, rose from the abyss. The stairs were covered in the filth of bats and vermin. In the flickering torchlight, decaying insects lay scattered across the stone steps, swarmed by lines of feasting ants—a grim testament to the decay of the dark place. The lead man began sprinkling the water from the vessel onto the unholy ground and crumbling walls, while his companions began to chant a singular, haunting rhythm.
These men were Priests, desperately using 'Holy Water' to purify the unholy path. As they descended deeper, thick, black tree roots began to violently burst through the stone walls, twisting like veins. Reaching the final step, they found massive iron bars blocking their way, while ancient roots hung from the ceiling, reaching down to touch the very floor...
[End of Chapter]