The catacombs stretched before them, an endless abyss of darkness and decay. The air was thick with the stench of rot, mildew, and something worse—something that clung to their skin and refused to let go. The glow of bioluminescent fungi barely illuminated the way forward, casting sickly green hues over ancient stone walls slick with moisture. The silence was deafening, broken only by their weary breaths and the occasional distant sound of something shifting in the dark.
They moved in silence, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on their shoulders like an iron shroud. Belial took the lead, his curved longsword hanging loosely in his grip, its once-sharp edge dulled and chipped from the fight with the Volatile Queen. Raven followed close behind, his gauntlets still stained with drying ichor, his breath steady but strained. Xin, clutching his spear, brought up the rear, every step feeling heavier than the last. Each footfall sent echoes spiraling through the tunnels, making the space feel smaller, more oppressive.
They did not dare make a sound. They did not dare look into the shadows that flanked them.
They were too tired to fight.
The path through the catacombs was winding and treacherous. The uneven stone beneath their feet threatened to trip them at every turn. The walls, carved with ancient reliefs of figures long forgotten, seemed to watch them with hollow eyes. Whispers echoed in the distance, the murmur of something unseen shifting through the dark. The oppressive silence pressed against their ears, broken only by their shallow, controlled breathing. It was as if the very air around them carried the weight of the dead.
A flicker of movement caught Belial's eye. His body tensed, every muscle coiling in preparation for a strike—only to freeze when he saw it.
A figure hunched in the corridor ahead, its body wrapped in tattered funeral cloths, its skeletal hands twitching at its sides. The air around it seemed to pulse, a sickly energy radiating from within its decayed form.
A scavenger.
Belial raised a hand, signaling for the others to stop. Raven and Xin obeyed instantly, their breathing shallow. They watched as the wraith shifted, its empty sockets scanning the dark, searching.
They waited. They did not move.
The scavenger let out a wheezing sigh and shambled down a separate corridor, disappearing into the abyss.
Belial exhaled slowly. They had no energy to waste. Not now. Not when they still had so far to go.
The stairway lay ahead.
A massive, spiraling ascent carved into the very bones of the catacombs. The steps were uneven, cracked, and coated in a thin layer of filth. The further they looked up, the less they could see, as if the shadows themselves thickened, devouring the light.
Raven went first this time, his armored hands gripping the stone railing for support. Belial followed, his breaths controlled but heavy. Xin dragged himself up behind them, his legs screaming in protest with each step. The climb felt endless, each step requiring more willpower than the last.
The climb was agonizing.
Every footfall sent dust spiraling into the air, making the already stale atmosphere even harder to breathe. The weight of fatigue made the stairs feel endless, each step stretching into eternity. Their battered bodies screamed for rest, but they could not afford to stop. Not here. Not in the belly of this cursed place.
Xin's vision blurred. His grip tightened on his spear as he forced himself forward. His mind screamed at him to stop, to rest, but he knew there was no choice. Not here. Not now.
Then—
A sound.
Low. Guttural. A growl echoing from somewhere beneath them.
Raven stiffened. Belial's grip on his sword tightened. Xin dared not turn around.
Something was following them.
A deep scraping noise filled the air, the sound of claws raking against stone. Then, a slow, shuddering inhale—something sniffing, searching.
They moved faster. Their legs burned, their lungs ached, but they could not afford to slow.
The growling grew louder.
A rasping breath. A shifting presence. The thing that lurked below did not chase. It did not lunge. It only waited.
Watched.
And listened.
The stairs twisted and turned. The path narrowed. The oppressive darkness felt heavier, denser. The walls felt closer, squeezing around them.
Xin's foot slipped. A loose stone shifted beneath him.
A sharp crack echoed through the catacombs.
Silence.
Then, movement. Rapid. Inhuman. A frenzy of shifting limbs and scraping claws.
Belial turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness below. The sound had stopped. The thing had stopped.
Waiting again.
Xin's breathing was ragged. He felt Belial's hand on his shoulder, grounding him. No more mistakes.
Upward. Always upward.
The stairs wound higher, their bodies moving on sheer willpower alone. Time lost all meaning in the suffocating dark. The only thing that existed was the next step, and the next, and the next. Their minds blurred with exhaustion, their limbs screamed in protest, but they had no choice but to push forward. There was no telling what would happen if they collapsed here, in the bowels of this forsaken tomb.
They walked, silently, through the catacombs, each step feeling like it might be their last. Their hearts thudded in their chests, and still, they pressed on. They were broken. They were tired. But they were alive. And for now, that was enough.
They ended up at a narrow corridor that led to a set of heavy, rusted doors. The air was thick here, dense with the scent of decay and something else—something more sinister. Their hands were slick with sweat as they reached for the doors. There was no turning back.
The doors creaked open, revealing a vast, empty chamber bathed in an eerie, unnatural light. The walls seemed to breathe with the same rhythm as the beating of their hearts.
They crossed the threshold, stepping into the room with the weight of the catacombs behind them and an uncertain future ahead. The silence was broken only by their footsteps, the faintest reminder of their fragility.
There were no monsters here. At least, not that they could see. But the feeling of something watching them, something that knew they were here, was palpable. The room stretched out in front of them, endless and cold.
They didn't speak. There were no words. Only the sound of their breaths, shallow and unsteady.
Finally, as they reached the far end of the room, Belial slowed. He felt something shift in the air, a disturbance that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The tension in the air was suffocating.
Suddenly, a low rumble echoed from the walls.
They froze, turning to face the door they had just passed through. Something was coming. Something that they did not have the strength to fight.
"Run."
Belial's command was sharp. There was no hesitation.
The three of them turned and bolted for the doors, hearts pounding in their chests. The room behind them seemed to pulse, the walls trembling as though the very stone was alive.
This place is a hellish joke.
The doors loomed ahead, but the distance felt insurmountable. The air grew heavier, pressing down on them like a physical force. The sound of their footsteps echoed unnaturally, as if the chamber itself was mocking their desperation.
Behind them, the rumble grew louder, more defined. It was no longer just a sound—it was a presence. Something vast, something ancient, something that had been waiting for them.
Xin's legs burned, his vision blurring at the edges. He could hear Raven's labored breathing, the clank of his armor as he ran. Belial was ahead, his sword still in hand, his movements sharp despite his exhaustion.
The doors were close now, but the thing behind them was closer.
A guttural roar shattered the silence, reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. The walls shook, dust and debris raining down from above. Xin risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't.
Shadows twisted and writhed, coalescing into a form that defied comprehension. It was massive, its body a shifting mass of darkness and jagged edges. Eyes—too many eyes—glowed with a malevolent light, fixed on them with an intensity that made Xin's blood run cold.
Xin forced his eyes forward, his legs pumping despite the agony. The doors were just ahead, but they seemed to stretch further away with every step. The thing behind them was gaining ground, its presence a suffocating weight that threatened to crush them.
Raven reached the doors first, slamming his shoulder into them with a grunt. They groaned but didn't budge. Belial was there a moment later, adding his strength to the effort. Xin stumbled to a stop beside them, his hands joining theirs as they pushed with everything they had.
The doors creaked, the rusted hinges protesting as they slowly began to give way. The thing behind them roared again, the sound so close it felt like it was inside their heads. Xin's arms trembled, his strength fading fast, but he pushed harder, desperation lending him the last reserves of his energy.
With a final, ear-splitting screech, the doors swung open, and they tumbled through, collapsing onto the cold stone floor beyond. Belial was the first to move, scrambling to his feet and slamming the doors shut with a force that made the walls shake. He grabbed a heavy iron bar from the floor and slid it into place, sealing the doors just as something massive slammed into them from the other side.
The impact sent a shockwave through the room, the doors shuddering but holding firm. The thing on the other side roared again, the sound muffled but no less terrifying. They backed away, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their eyes fixed on the doors as if expecting them to burst open at any moment.
But the doors held.
For now.
The room they had stumbled into was small and dimly lit, the air stale but free of the oppressive weight of the chamber behind them. The walls were lined with ancient tapestries, their colors faded and frayed, depicting scenes of battles long forgotten. A Bioluminescent flower flickered on the far wall, casting flickering shadows that danced like specters.
Belial leaned against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Raven slumped to the floor, his gauntleted hands resting on his knees. Xin sank down beside him, his spear clattering to the ground as he buried his face in his hands.
They were alive. For now.
But the thing behind the doors was still there, waiting, watching. And they all knew it wouldn't stay behind those doors forever.
Behind them was another narrow corridor, Belial gestured to follow.
Raven nodded, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. Xin hesitated, his hands still trembling, but he forced himself to stand, gripping his spear tightly.