The Catacombs were a dark and unforgiving place, a labyrinth of twisting corridors and oppressive death, where the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and decay. Yet, the three had grown adept at navigating its depths, their instincts sharpening with each encounter. Now, they found themselves on a higher floor, an eerie sense of elevation making the shadows seem to stretch further, the corridors widening just enough to give a false sense of relief.
As they pressed forward, they stumbled upon a battle already in progress. A group of survivors, their ragged armor and desperate movements betraying their exhaustion, were locked in combat with two monstrous entities. These were not ordinary foes—they were lesser mirror monsters, but unlike the ones the trio had encountered before, these were heavily armored. Their massive quadrupedal forms gleamed under the dim light, their diamond-like alloy plating making them look nearly impervious to damage. Three long, whip-like tails lashed violently in the air, each tipped with serrated barbs, while two thick, tentacle-like appendages undulated from their bodies, sensing the movement around them.
Pentacores.
Belial let out a low whistle. "Wow. People in this economy?"
He turned to his companions. "Raven, Xin—help the group with fewer numbers. I'll take the one barely holding on."
Raven nodded without a word, his tall figure already moving, his black armor of obsidian glinting as he advanced. In his grasp, he now wielded a jagged, particular-shaped rock, modified into a crude yet devastating weapon, functioning as a reinforced brass knuckle. Xin, beside him, twirled a newly acquired spear-like shard, its edge gleaming like a shard of midnight itself. They split from Belial, rushing into the fray.
Raven struck first, closing the gap with brutal efficiency. The Pentacore reared up slightly, anticipating his approach, but Raven was faster. With a downward swing of his fist, he drove his knuckle-enhanced fist into the creature's forelimb, the sheer force causing a dent in its otherwise impenetrable armor. The monster shrieked, its tentacles whipping toward him in retaliation. He ducked, rolling under one and twisting to the side to avoid another.
Xin took advantage of the momentary distraction, her spear darting forward like a serpent's fang. She aimed for the exposed flesh between the creature's armored plating, stabbing deep into its shoulder joint. The Pentacore's roar echoed through the catacombs, its long tails now thrashing wildly, one nearly catching Raven in the ribs as he barely managed to twist away. He countered immediately, driving his weapon upward into the creature's exposed underbelly while Xin ripped her spear free and delivered another thrust into the monster's side. Their teamwork was seamless, their movements synchronized as if they had fought together for years.
Meanwhile, Belial moved toward a lone survivor, a girl slightly younger than him, her breaths ragged, her blade shaking in her grip. She was barely holding her ground against the second Pentacore. He analyzed the monster swiftly, his eyes narrowing as he recalled everything he knew about these creatures. They were aggressive but predictable. Their weak points.
His first strike was a miss.
The Pentacore's tail swung at him, forcing him to leap back, barely avoiding being impaled by the barbed tips. He cursed under his breath but didn't hesitate. Adjusting his stance, he lunged forward again. This time, his blade found its mark, slipping into a small crack in the creature's armor near its joints. The Pentacore let out an enraged bellow, but Belial didn't stop. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he dug his weapon deeper, his mind calculating his next move even as the monster writhed in pain.
The girl gasped as the Pentacore's movements faltered. Belial shot her a quick glance. "Aim for the eyes or under the neck! Those are the weakest points!"
She hesitated only a second before nodding, gripping her weapon tighter. Belial distracted the monster, drawing its attention with quick, precise strikes. The Pentacore snarled, its tails whipping furiously, but Belial dodged with practiced ease, staying just outside its lethal reach.
Then, the girl moved. Seizing the opening Belial created, she drove her blade upward, piercing the soft flesh beneath the creature's thick neck plating. The Pentacore let out one last, shuddering cry before collapsing, its massive form crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Belial exhaled, shaking the tension from his muscles before flashing the girl a rare smirk.
"Not bad," he muttered before turning to see how Raven and Xin were faring.
Across the battlefield, their Pentacore was on its last legs. Its armor, once pristine and nearly impenetrable, was now marred with deep gashes and shattered plating. Xin feinted left before spinning and delivering a final, precise thrust straight through its eye socket. The creature convulsed violently before finally going still.
Silence filled the air, broken only by the survivors' ragged breathing. The battle was over.
The girl looked at Belial, still gripping her weapon as if expecting another attack. "You—thank you."
Belial merely nodded before glancing around. "We should move before more of these things show up."
The scent of blood still lingered in the air, thick and metallic, as the group finished gathering the meat from the pentacores. It was a grim necessity—food was scarce, and survival came first. The girl wiped her hands on her tattered cloak, sighing as she turned back toward the others. That was when she noticed something peculiar about Belial.
He was naked.
It took her a moment to process the sight. Amidst the dim, bioluminescent light of the catacombs, his bare skin stood out starkly, illuminated in ghostly hues. He already knew about this, though there was little shame in his expression. Just exhaustion.
There had been casualties—two among them had fallen, a man and a woman. Belial, without hesitation, walked over to the man's corpse and began stripping away his clothes. It was an act of necessity, yet it still felt wrong.
The dead deserved dignity, but the living needed warmth.
"Are you seriously going to—" the girl started, but stopped herself. What was the point of arguing? They had bigger problems.
Belial dressed quickly, his movements mechanical he donned the black pants and a dull yellow shirt. The clothes were stiff with dried sweat and blood the faint scent of the fallen man still clung to them, but at least they offered some protection against the biting cold of the catacombs.
Beggars cant be choosers anyway.
he gestured Xin to do the same he assumed that he dint have anything under that cloak,
The group moved forward, deeper into the underground maze. Silence hung between them, each step careful, wary of whatever lurked beyond the next turn. The battle had drained them, and with their numbers reduced, their odds of survival felt slimmer than ever.
Eventually, they stumbled upon a small alcove that seemed safe enough for now. It wasn't much—just a recessed part of the tunnel with a few crumbled stones to sit on—but it would do. They gathered close, their breath misting in the cold air.
One by one, they introduced themselves, though most of them already knew each other in passing. Names felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet saying them aloud seemed to reaffirm their existence. A reminder that they were still sane.
That they were still alive.
Among them was a nervous, wiry man, his eyes darting about as if expecting death to lunge at him from the darkness. He muttered under his breath, over and over.
"We're all going to die... we're all going to die..."
The girl shot Belial a wary glance, but he didn't react. He was too tired to care. They all were.
For a brief time, they were alright. Just breathing. Just resting. No fights. No monsters. Just a moment of fragile peace.
After some time, they decided to rest properly. Sleep was a luxury they could barely afford, but they needed it to keep going. Belial lay down, his body aching in places he hadn't even realized could hurt. His eyes closed almost immediately, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he slipped into sleep.
Raven stayed awake, keeping watch. The two-hour mark passed in a blink, and when Belial woke, the exhaustion still clung to him like a second skin. Rubbing at his eyes, he glanced over to where Raven sat, still alert.
"You should get some rest," Belial said, his voice hoarse.
Raven shook his head. "No. You need it more."
Belial frowned. "You need it too."
"You're the leader," Raven said simply. "You need to be in the best shape out of all of us."
Belial's expression hardened at that. A leader? He didn't feel like one. He was just... here. Just trying to survive like everyone else.
He looked around at the others, their faces slack in sleep, exhaustion carved into their very bones. What made him any different? What made him a leader? Was it just because he was still standing?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't feel like a leader."
Raven smirked, though it lacked real amusement. "None of us feel like what we are anymore."
Belial had no response to that. He leaned back against the cold stone wall, exhaling softly. Maybe Raven was right. Maybe none of them were who they used to be.
But that didn't change the fact that they had to keep moving forward.
Even if he didn't feel like a leader, they were looking to him. He couldn't let them down.