Chapter 15: Descent into the Labyrinth

Even the torchlight felt subdued as Reziel and the knights pressed deeper into the fortress's underbelly. Beyond the Hall of Statues, a winding corridor led downward, its walls carved with cryptic runes long eroded by time. The stale air smelled faintly of mold and burning incense, a cloying mix that hinted at both decay and ongoing cult rituals.

Sir Galland advanced at the head of the column, his sword ready, while Aria Highwind flanked him, spear tip gleaming in the flicker of violet-tinted braziers. The other knights followed in pairs, shields raised, scanning every shadow for traps. Anora—their resident mage-knight—lingered near the rear, keeping watch for wards or illusions that might spring up behind them.

We're really going below ground now, Reziel thought, his pulse racing. His side still ached, and the weight of the Forbidden System in his veins felt heavier with each step. No turning back.

The corridor leveled out, opening into a low-ceilinged antechamber. Faded tapestries clung to the walls, depicting robed figures offering sacrifices under a swirling sky. Some were too torn or stained to decipher, but what remained suggested an ancient cult predating the current Circle of Twilight—perhaps the foundation for the circle's beliefs.

Aria paused by a ripped tapestry. Its central motif showed a spiral of runes, eerily similar to the swirling scripts Reziel saw whenever the System manifested. "These people worshiped something that might've been linked to the System," she murmured. "Or a deity that controlled similar powers."

Reziel's stomach flipped. If the System has roots in some ancient worship… maybe that's why the cult's so fixated on reviving it. Meanwhile, a faint hum—like distant chanting—echoed from a passage to the left. Galland raised a hand, halting the group.

Two corridors branched from the antechamber: one veered left, down a sloping tunnel bathed in faint purple glow, while the other led right, half-shrouded in darkness. Sir Galland scowled, torn. "That chanting is suspicious. Likely a ritual site. But we can't leave our flank open."

He glanced at Aria, who nodded in understanding. "We'll need to split again," she said. "One squad investigates the chanting. The other secures the dark corridor, ensures no ambush from behind."

Galland tapped two knights on the shoulder. "You'll come with me." Then his gaze shifted to Aria and Reziel. "Aria, you lead a second squad down the right corridor—take Reziel, Anora, and three more knights. If trouble arises, signal with a mana flare."

Aria set her jaw. "Understood. We'll keep watch for illusions or traps."

Reziel swallowed, nerves jangling. Splitting up inside a cult's lair… never comforting. But it made sense. If the left path held a ritual, it couldn't go unanswered. Meanwhile, the other corridor might curve around for an ambush. They had to cover both.

Galland gave a final nod, then led his trio toward the chanting. Aria gathered Reziel, Anora, and three knights—Ronan, Delwyn, and Kiana—motioning them to the right-hand tunnel. Their parting footsteps echoed ominously in the gloom.

The right corridor sloped down at an awkward angle. Loose gravel crunched underfoot, and broken tiles revealed glimpses of older, deeper layers beneath. Anora kept a small orb of white light floating ahead, illuminating a space just wide enough to avoid stepping in hidden holes.

Ronan—a gruff, broad-shouldered knight—took point with Aria, scanning the walls for runic inscriptions. Delwyn and Kiana, both agile fighters, moved in the middle, swords at the ready. Reziel stayed near Anora at the rear, his heart thumping in his chest. Every so often, the corridor rattled with distant tremors, as if something huge shifted in the depths below.

This place might collapse on us if we aren't careful, Reziel thought grimly, eyeing deep cracks overhead.

They pressed on, following a subtle breeze that suggested an opening deeper in. After several tense minutes, the passage widened into a large chamber where thick, twisted roots protruded through the ceiling and walls—indicating they were now under the fortress's ground-level forest or hillside.

Tangled roots coiled around old pillars, forming a lattice that partially obscured the walls. A tangle in the center looked almost like an altar, with gnarly vines twisted around a stone pedestal. The faint glow of violet torches flickered overhead, casting ominous dancing shadows.

Aria raised her spear in a silent signal to halt. Something about the room felt off, as though the roots themselves pulsed with faint energy. Reziel stepped forward cautiously, noticing carved runes on the vines near the altar—fresh cuts, etched with a jagged blade.

Delwyn pointed at the pedestal. "Looks like a ritual area, but… it's more primitive. Not like the stone wards outside."

Kiana nodded, pressing a palm to one of the vines. "Could be druidic or nature-based magic. Maybe the cult fused it with their own illusions."

Anora frowned, holding her white orb closer. "Careful. Nature magic can be just as dangerous—especially if it's corrupted."

Reziel's gaze swept over the altar. Dried, dark stains on the stone suggested old sacrifices—animal or otherwise. A sharp pang of unease tightened his throat. Just how many rituals are layered into this fortress?

Before anyone could investigate further, a sudden shudder coursed through the tangle of roots. The vines tightened, groaning like ropes under strain. A low hiss echoed in the chamber, as if the very air bristled with hostility.

"Back!" Aria commanded, instincts flaring. The knights jerked away as the roots lashed out with whip-like motions. One vine nearly snagged Delwyn's arm, but he spun aside, slicing it with his sword. It oozed a dark, resin-like sap, twitching as if alive.

A second vine slithered across the floor, aiming for Reziel's legs. He stumbled back, conjuring a hurried Dark Pulse that blasted the writhing mass apart. Sticky residue spattered the stones. A wave of dizziness washed over him—his mana reserves still precariously low after previous fights.

These vines are just as vicious as those statues.

Aria and Ronan coordinated a flank, chopping at the main cluster of roots near the altar. Kiana vaulted atop a broken pillar to avoid being entangled, while Anora cast a shimmering barrier that repelled two lunging tendrils. The entire chamber writhed, as if under the control of some malevolent entity.

"We need to destroy the source!" Aria shouted, her spear tip sparking golden light as she drove it into a thick, pulsating bundle near the pedestal. The root hissed, sap spraying, but still squirmed.

Anora narrowed her eyes, chanting a disruption spell. Blue-white magic coiled around her hands. "Hold them off—this'll take a moment!" She knelt, pressing her palms to the floor. A faint circular rune formed, crackling with arcs of purifying energy.

Reziel grit his teeth, stepping in to cover Anora. He batted away a lunging vine with his cloak, then slashed at it with the short sword a knight had lent him earlier. The blade wasn't as comfortable in his hand as the System's dark magic, but he lacked the mana for another Dark Rupture.

Kiana, from her vantage point, hurled a dagger into the vine cluster. Ronan battered aside more tendrils with heavy swings of his mace. Delwyn circled, slashing at smaller sprouts. Finally, Anora's magic pulsed outward in a cleansing burst—threads of blue light raced across the chamber, singing through the vines.

With a final, violent spasm, the entire mass shuddered and collapsed. The roots shriveled, black sap congealing. A wave of musty air rushed through the chamber as the evil presence dissipated.

Panting, the knights regrouped around the sundered pedestal. Anora leaned against a broken column, exhausted from the spell. Aria wiped sweat from her brow.

"Everyone okay?" she asked, scanning their injuries.

Mostly they sported bruises or shallow cuts from the lashing vines. Relief flickered on their faces. No casualties, Reziel noted with gratitude.

Now that the vines lay limp, the knights examined the central pedestal. Symbols etched into the stone glowed faintly, then dimmed. Reziel knelt, tracing a spiral shape reminiscent of the System's runes. Beneath it lay a jagged script: "Seed of Twilight… sanctum below… chosen vessel…"

His heart hammered. Chosen vessel? That phrase haunted him—it echoed how the cultists referred to him, the unwanted bearer of the Forbidden System.

Aria peered over his shoulder, brow knitting. "Looks like they performed some nature-based corruption here—feeding life force into the fortress's wards, maybe. The same energy might fuel the illusions or animate guardians."

Anora nodded wearily. "And the mention of 'sanctum below' suggests there's a deeper level. Probably the same place we suspect: the sealed catacomb or temple."

A tense hush settled. The group exchanged glances. They were on the right track—but each new clue confirmed the catacombs would be heavily protected by layered rituals. If the circle's main forces gather below, the fight will only get worse.

A partial stairwell yawned at the back of the chamber, half-obscured by fallen rubble. Dim purple light seeped from beyond it, accompanied by the distant throb of chanting—deeper and more resonant than before.

Aria gestured toward it, voice taut. "We have to see if this passage links up with Galland's route. If they're encountering the ritual from the other side, we might flank the cult's main force."

Ronan grunted. "Let's hope we don't arrive too late—or too early," he murmured, eyeing the battered knights. Anora still breathed heavily; the others showed signs of fatigue.

Still, none proposed turning back. They formed up, and Aria led the way. Reziel kept close behind her, adrenaline surging anew. We must find the cult's core ritual site. Now or never.

At a hand signal from Aria, they took a moment to rest. Delwyn and Kiana rummaged through a small pouch of medicinal salves and rations. They passed water around, tending minor cuts. Anora sank onto a broken column, massaging her temples.

Reziel eased onto a chunk of rubble, cradling his side. Each breath felt raw. The swirling sense of dread in his stomach only grew. He glanced at the short sword in his hand—slightly sticky from the vine sap. Better to rely on steel for a bit. My mana's almost tapped out.

Aria noticed him wincing. She crouched at his side, voice low. "You sure you can keep going? That last fight was intense."

He forced a smile. "I'll manage. I have to."

Her gray eyes softened with concern, but she simply nodded. "Alright. Just… if it gets too bad, tell me."

Reziel appreciated her quiet support. He gave a short nod, exhaling shakily. "Let's finish this."

With their brief pause done, Aria and Ronan pried away the last of the fallen stones blocking the stairwell. Anora's orb of light illuminated rough steps plunging deeper, carved directly into the bedrock. A gust of stale air rushed out, carrying the unmistakable tang of old blood and incense.

Delwyn gagged softly at the scent. Kiana wrinkled her nose. "They've been performing dark rituals for a while down here."

Aria's face hardened. "All the more reason to hurry."

Steel rasped, footsteps echoed, and hearts pounded as the squad descended. Each step took them further from sunlight, deeper into the fortress's lifeblood. The chanting grew clearer—low, guttural voices weaving a dire melody of power. Violet torchlight flickered sporadically along the walls, dancing shadows forming monstrous shapes in the corners of Reziel's vision.

After a winding descent, the narrow passage opened abruptly into a wider corridor. The group slowed, hearing the clamor of distant combat—clashing steel, shouted commands, the echo of magical impacts. Another battle?

Aria's eyes lit with realization. "That must be Galland's squad. They must've engaged the cult deeper in!"

Anora raised her orb, scanning the corridor. Ahead, an open threshold led into a grand hall from which the noises originated. Sporadic flashes of purple arcane light suggested fierce conflict. The chanting soared and faltered, as though disrupted by battle.

Ronan and Kiana exchanged glances. "We should flank them," said Ronan. "Hit the cultists from behind and help Sir Galland break through."

Aria nodded. She turned to Reziel, gaze intense. "Ready?"

He let out a shaky breath, forcing the tension in his limbs to harden into resolve. "Let's go."

Bursting through the threshold, they entered a cavernous hall. Stalactites and twisted columns intermingled with carved arches. At the hall's center, a raised platform glowed with violet runes—clearly the focus of the cult's ritual. Several robed figures circled it, chanting despite the chaos around them.

On one side of the hall, Sir Galland and two knights fought desperately against robed mages who hurled bolts of dark lightning. One knight lay motionless near a pillar, presumably wounded or worse. Another cluster of cultists engaged Galland's group with staff-strikes and conjured flames.

Aria's squad wasted no time. Charging in, they caught the cultists off-guard from behind. Ronan's mace smashed into a robed figure, sending him sprawling. Delwyn and Kiana wove through the brawl with agile strikes, forcing the cultists to split their defenses. Anora hurled a burst of white-hot magic at a tall mage, interrupting his chant.

Reziel aimed his short sword at an approaching cultist. The man sneered, staff flaring with purple arcs, but Reziel parried, pivoting to slash at the mage's arm. The staff clattered, and a knee-strike from Reziel sent the cultist crumpling with a groan. I can do this, he reminded himself, ignoring the throbbing in his side.

Atop the raised platform, a robed figure more elaborately dressed than the others continued chanting, hands aloft. A swirling vortex of dark energy formed above him—small, but growing. Sir Galland, momentarily free, lunged for the dais. He slashed at the robed figure's back, only to be blocked by a shimmering shield of violet light.

Aria dashed forward with her spear, but a second cultist flung a wave of shadow flame at her, forcing her to dodge. Anora stepped in, chanting a counter-spell that fizzled part of the flame.

All around, the hall shook with sporadic blasts of magic. The swirling vortex over the dais pulsed ominously, as if trying to tear open a rift. Reziel caught fragments of the lead cultist's chant: "…unseal… old gods… ascend…"

His blood ran cold. They're actually trying to open something. Whether it was a gateway or an amplification ritual for the catacombs below, it had to be stopped.

Galland grit his teeth, battered by the shield's backlash. "Take him down!" he shouted, voice echoing.

Time seemed to slow as Reziel realized the lead cultist was the key. If that swirling energy stabilized, the fortress's wards might intensify—or something far worse could break through. Despite his low mana, Reziel felt a surge of the System's presence. One more shot—Dark Rupture—could disrupt the ritual for good.

But he was exhausted. Even a lesser Dark Pulse left him winded. Another full Dark Rupture might push his body to the brink. If I don't act, though, the circle could succeed—and we're all finished.

System Prompt

High-Stakes Target Identified.

Warning: Host Mana Dangerously Low. Overexertion risk.

Potential "Overlimit" effect: Unknown consequences.

Reziel's heart hammered. Overlimit? He locked eyes with Aria, who was parrying a staff blow. Her expression screamed for him to do something about the lead cultist.

Gritting his teeth, Reziel pressed his free hand to the dais edge, ignoring the jolt of arcane feedback. "Stop… right… now," he muttered, raising his sword arm. The swirling script of the Forbidden System glowed around his forearm. Dark Rupture ignited in his palm—larger, more violent than before.

Overlimit Engaged

Reziel felt a searing pain spike through him, as though forging power from raw agony.

"Reziel—!" Aria's voice cut across the din, alarmed.

He unleashed the sphere. A roaring wave of negative energy tore across the dais, smashing into the cultist's shield with explosive force. The shield cracked—then shattered. The resulting shockwave hurled the robed figure backward into a broken pillar. His chanting ceased abruptly, the vortex overhead collapsing in on itself with a thunderous implosion.

A shockwave of wind and purple sparks radiated through the hall. The remaining cultists, seeing their leader felled and the ritual undone, wavered in disarray. Some tried to flee or conjure lesser spells, but the knights capitalized on their panic, disarming or subduing them. Sir Galland parried a final staff strike before slamming the pommel of his sword into the attacker's jaw.

As dust and magic residue settled, Reziel toppled to his knees. His vision blurred, chest heaving with ragged breaths. White-hot pain lanced his temples, and he tasted copper on his tongue. The world spun, muffled voices swirling around him.

Aria was at his side in an instant, spear clattering to the floor as she grasped his shoulders. "Reziel! Hang on!" She pressed a hand against his cheek. He barely registered her words, darkness nibbling at the edges of his consciousness.

System Status

Overlimit Expended.

Host Vitality: Critically Low.

Mana: Near Zero.

Before blackness claimed him, Reziel felt Aria's arms supporting him, and dimly saw Sir Galland calling for a cleric. The swirling illusions overhead faded, replaced by only the dull ache of emptiness. Did we… stop it…?

He let out a trembling breath. Then his vision went dark, the clash of steel and fading magic sliding into silence.