The Scythe towered over Belial as it slithered across the stone floor, its dark, segmented body glinting with deadly precision. The creature's gaping maw, lined with rows of sharp, jagged teeth, hissed as it prepared to strike. Its form was a nightmare of sharp edges, spikes protruding from its back, and segmented limbs that ended in wicked, curved claws, perfect for tearing through flesh.
Belial's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, the steel humming with the promise of battle. The Sythed Mouth was no ordinary creature—it was swift, brutal, and relentless. But Belial wasn't afraid. He had fought beasts larger, faster, and deadlier. This one would fall like the rest.
He narrowed his eyes, watching the beast closely as it crouched, its body tensing for the strike. It suddenly launched itself forward with terrifying speed, its sharp limbs scissoring the air. Belial leaped to the side, his blade flashing through the air as he narrowly avoided the deadly strike. The creature's claws missed by inches, but its momentum carried it forward, leaving an opening.
With a swift pivot, Belial's blade cleaved through one of the creature's exposed legs, severing it at the joint. The Sythed Mouth screeched, an unearthly sound that reverberated in Belial's bones. It spun, snapping at him with its wide jaws, but he was already on the move. His blade arced again, cutting through another limb, sending the creature crashing to the ground.
But Belial knew it wasn't done. The Sythed Mouth was relentless, and it would keep coming until it was destroyed. The creature's segmented body twisted unnaturally, its remaining limbs dragging it forward with renewed fury. It rose to its full height, nearly three meters tall, its massive jaws snapping at the air as it reared on its hind legs.
Belial steeled himself. He could sense the creature's movements before it made them, his years of combat training kicking in. He knew it would strike again, just like it always did. With a sudden roar, the Sythed Mouth lunged, its claws extending in a deadly arc.
Belial was ready. He sidestepped, barely avoiding the slash, and then he swung his blade upward, meeting the creature's exposed throat. His sword pierced deep into the creature's flesh, and the Sythed Mouth let out a final, bone-chilling screech before crumpling to the ground. Belial stood over it, panting, his blade dripping with the creature's black blood.
But there was no time to celebrate. The sound of another screech filled the air—this time, closer. A second Sythed Mouth had appeared, and it was heading straight for the young girl he had been tasked to protect. He had no time to think. He had to act.
With a single glance, Belial saw the girl—trembling, frozen in place—her eyes wide with fear as the creature closed in. His heart clenched. He couldn't let it harm her. He had to get to her, fast.
He sprinted toward the girl, his blade raised, ready to face the second Sythed Mouth. The creature swung its claws down, aiming for her, but Belial was already there. He intercepted the strike with his sword, the sound of metal clashing against metal ringing out in the stillness of the room.
The Sythed Mouth roared in fury, and Belial gritted his teeth, using all his strength to keep the creature at bay. But he wasn't prepared for the follow-up strike. The creature lashed out with its tail, catching him across the side. Pain shot through his body as he staggered, but he refused to fall.
Before the creature could strike again, he managed to push it back with a fierce shove, his blade slicing through the air in a perfect arc. It caught the Sythed Mouth in the side, sending it sprawling to the ground. Belial's breath came in ragged gasps, his side aching from the blow.
The girl was safe—for now—but he couldn't afford to rest. He turned just in time to see Raven battling two of the Sythed Mouths at once. The armored warrior's body was a fortress, his movements slow but methodical as he handled the creatures with brutal efficiency. However, despite his strength and resilience, the Sythed Mouths were chipping away at him, their claws scraping against his armor.
Belial gritted his teeth. Raven needed help.
Ignoring the burning pain in his side, Belial ran toward his comrade. He leapt into the fray, his sword flashing as he attacked one of the creatures from behind, cutting deep into its flank. It shrieked in agony, turning its attention to Belial, but Raven took advantage of the distraction. He swung his massive fist, knocking the other Sythed Mouth back, creating an opening for Belial.
Together, they fought with precision, each blow landing with devastating force. The Scythed Mouths were strong, but they were no match for the combined might of Belial and Raven. With a final, synchronized strike, they brought the creatures to the ground.
The air was thick with the scent of death.
Belial's boots crunched over the debris-littered floor, the stale air thick with the iron scent of blood. His gaze swept over the remains of the fallen monsters, twisted and lifeless, their gaping maws frozen in expressions of agony. The room felt more like a graveyard than a battlefield
Well they were in a catacomb afterall.
The last one standing was the Pentacore, its hulking form swaying unsteadily. Its once-impenetrable shell was now cracked, viscous dark blood seeping through jagged wounds. It heaved ragged breaths, barely clinging to life.
Belial's grip on his blade tightened. The Pentacore had killed the Triviums—that much was clear. It had done his work for him, but at a cost. If it was still alive, even in this weakened state, it was a threat. He took a step forward, but something in the beast's dimming eyes made him hesitate. There was no fight left in it. Only exhaustion.
His attention shifted to the hidden door at the far end of the room. He clenched his jaw. He didn't want to go through it. He knew what lay beyond. The boss. The one monster that stood between him and the end of this nightmare. The last time he had seen it, it had nearly torn him apart, its miasma alone enough to bring him to the brink of death. He didn't have enough health beads left to withstand both the poison and the battle.
But he knew there was no other way.
This was the path he had to take.
The path to repay Xin.
He had saved him before, pulling him from the abyss when he had been at death's door. He owed Him. If He was still alive, he had to find Him. If He wasn't...
Then he would have to carry His memory forward.
Just as he steeled himself, the hidden door creaked open with a whispering groan. His breath caught in his throat as a figure stumbled forward, barely managing to cross the threshold before collapsing. Xin. Her small frame was barely recognizable beneath the layers of dirt and dried blood. Her body hit the floor with a dull thud, her breathing shallow, her face pale.
Belial was at His side in an instant, catching Him before He could fully hit the ground. He cradled Him close, brushing strands of matted hair from her face. Her eyes flickered open, a weak smile ghosting across His lips.
"You made it!" he whispered before the last of his strength faded, His body going slack in his arms.
Belial's throat tightened. She was alive, but barely. He scanned her body for injuries—too many to count. Bruises, lacerations, burns—each wound told a story of struggle. He cursed under his breath. He needed to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere—
A sudden movement caught his eye. A young girl stood a few feet away, her wide, unblinking eyes filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. She had stayed further back from the group, her expression unreadable, but there was something in the way she looked at Xin that spoke volumes. A flicker of joy, fleeting and fragile, danced across her face. But as she realized Xin was alone, her expression shifted. The weight of understanding settled over her, and the joy dimmed.
Her group was gone.
Still, there was hope. A promise in the light beyond the doorway. The air outside had to be better. Cleaner. A place where she could finally breathe, free from the suffocating rot of this cursed place.
She turned, eyes locked on the distant glow. And then she ran.
"Wait—" Belial reached out, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of what lay beyond.
The moment her foot crossed into the light, her body disintegrated.
Ashes.
One breath, and she was there. The next, gone. The light she had chased reduced to nothing more than a cruel illusion.
Belial exhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. He had warned her. He had tried. But she hadn't listened. The weight of another life lost pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he didn't have time to mourn.
Because the air around him had shifted.
A sound, soft yet chilling, slithered through the void. A voice, neither male nor female, neither near nor far. It was everywhere and nowhere, seeping into his bones like a whisper from the abyss.
ㄴFirst Dream Stage... complete.ㄱ
A ripple coursed through the room, the very fabric of reality distorting at the words.
Belial tightened his grip on Xin, his muscles coiled like a spring. Whatever this was—it wasn't over.
Not even close.