Chapter 18: Lost Voices in the Right Corridor

The echo of Ronan's parting footsteps faded swiftly behind the winding walls, replaced by the low thrum of dark magic pulsing through stone. Aria Highwind led the way, her torch casting jittery shadows across a corridor thick with dust and fragments of broken carvings. Beside her, Kiana kept her blade low but ready, while Reziel followed a few steps behind—leaning on his short staff, tension coiling in his chest.

Each time Reziel inhaled, he tasted the fortress's stale air, tinged with a faint copper tang. Blood? Old sacrifices? He tried not to dwell on the possibilities. A persistent ache radiated from the blackish marks bruising his ribs, lingering proof of his Overlimit. He pressed a hand to them, shuddering at the memory. No more Overlimit, if I can help it.

They hurried down the corridor, mindful that Sir Galland's group was still unaccounted for. The overhead runes—once bright with arcane designs—now flickered erratically or had gone dark altogether. Destroying the left anchor had disrupted part of the fortress's warding network, but the right side presumably remained intact, fueling the massive gate they'd left behind.

Aria's voice, subdued: "We'll find them. Galland wouldn't fall easily."

Kiana, nodding: "If the cult had ambushed them, we'd see some sign—blood, bodies, or something."

Reziel felt a ball of dread settle in his gut. No sign could mean a worse fate. Yet he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to stir panic.

The corridor sloped downward, opening to a short landing strewn with rubble. Cracked stone columns jutted from the floor at odd angles, as though a minor quake had warped the foundations ages ago. Aria lifted her torch high, revealing a series of fresh scorch marks along the walls—remnants of a magical battle. Purple residue gleamed where spells had impacted, leaving charred runic outlines.

Kiana crouched by a scattering of footprints in the dust. "Looks like at least five or six sets, probably knights and cultists. There's dried blood here." She picked up a broken arrow shaft. "Luxarian make. Someone fired it recently."

Reziel's pulse quickened. "They must've engaged cultists here. But no bodies?"

Aria exhaled, checking for hidden corners or illusions. "Maybe the knights moved on—or were forced to move on. The cult could've taken the wounded or dead deeper in." Her mouth tightened at the grim prospect. "We keep going."

Sticking close, they navigated carefully around loose stones. A faint hum of arcane energy vibrated beneath their feet, reminding them that the fortress still lived with dark purpose. Reziel ground his teeth against a surge of dizziness, the staff heavy in his grip. Steady… just keep walking.

Ahead, the corridor forked left and right. Low chanting drifted from the right path, interspersed with distant echoes that might have been voices or illusions. Aria motioned for silence, creeping closer with measured steps. The stench of burnt ozone thickened.

She paused at the threshold of the right fork, where the stone opened into a half-collapsed hall. Flickers of violet light illuminated rows of toppled statues. Shadows shifted unnaturally—some definitely belonging to inanimate debris, others moving as if cast by invisible beings.

Reziel's heart thumped. Could those be illusions or real cultists?

Kiana pointed silently. A shimmer of runic light ran along the edges of the hall floor—faint but recognizable as a trigger for illusions. They pressed themselves behind a fallen statue, peering in.

At first glance, the large chamber appeared deserted. But the air warped near a corner, revealing fleeting shapes: knights lunging, cultists blasting arcs of lightning, a swirl of melee. Yet as soon as Reziel blinked, the shapes vanished—no sound, no collision.

Kiana, grimacing: "Ghostly echoes… illusions of past battles?" Aria, voice low: "The fortress replays them to distract or mislead us."

Reziel felt a pang in his chest. This place is saturated with so much magic that even memories of fights leave phantoms behind. If Galland had come this way, the illusions might be stronger.

They skirted the perimeter, mindful not to step on any wards. Occasionally, a ghostly figure flickered, resembling a wounded knight or a hissing cultist—only to dissolve like smoke when approached. Each illusion prickled the skin, threatening to rattle their focus.

Moving past the illusions, they followed the hallway's exit, stepping over cracked thresholds. Suddenly, a low groan echoed from up ahead—definitely not an illusion. Aria stiffened, spear raised. Kiana mirrored her caution.

They rounded a bend to find a young knight slumped against a collapsed arch, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. He panted, clearly in pain. Recognizing Aria's face, he tried to stand but crumpled, sweat beading on his pale brow.

Aria, kneeling: "Easy. Where's Galland?" Knight (barely audible): "D-down… down that corridor. Ambushed by a… monstrous guardian… we… we lost track of him. Some were forced to retreat further in."

The knight winced, clutching a scorched wound at his side. Kiana rummaged for a bandage, while Reziel crouched to check his vitals. The man's breath was shallow, but not fading.

Reziel, softly: "We'll stabilize you. Then we'll push on."

Aria's jaw clenched. "A monstrous guardian? Possibly another statue or summoned beast. Galland must've gone after it to clear the route."

The knight nodded weakly. "They… they said something about an anchor chamber… bigger than the last. Our spells… weren't strong enough." His head lolled, eyes shutting.

Aria glanced at Reziel. "We can't leave him here alone. But we also can't drag him deeper into danger."

Kiana finished tying off a bandage. "We might carry him back to the main corridor near Ronan—he can guard the knight until reinforcements come."

Reziel bit his lip, scanning the gloom. Time was critical; the more they delayed, the longer Galland's team might be outnumbered. "If we backtrack, we lose precious minutes."

Aria pressed her lips thin. Finally, she looked at Kiana. "You escort him back. Reziel and I will push on."

Kiana's eyes flicked between them. "Are you sure you two can handle it alone?"

Reziel forced a determined nod. "We'll manage. We have to find Galland—and that anchor—before the cult regroups."

Though reluctant, Kiana relented. She hoisted the wounded knight gently, supporting his weight. "Stay alive," she told them, voice taut. "If I can, I'll rejoin you quickly."

Aria clasped Kiana's shoulder in thanks, then turned with Reziel to the corridor ahead. Their footsteps and the knight's pained breathing receded in opposite directions.

Aria and Reziel advanced down a sloping tunnel littered with rubble. A faint roar, like an underground wind, echoed from somewhere deeper. The corridor opened into a half-collapsed chamber dominated by a massive sculpted idol of a serpent-like creature. Stone columns ringed the space, some toppled, others leaning precariously.

A glimmer of violet wards traced the walls—like veins of corrupted mana. Near the center, they spotted movement: Sir Galland stood locked in combat with a hulking figure. The guardian was a twisted fusion of carved stone and sinew, nearly eight feet tall, with obsidian shards jutting from its body. Two knights lay unconscious behind Galland, and a third—Anora—was pinned under fallen debris, desperately fending off rogue magic.

Aria, rushing forward: "Galland! We're here!"

Galland spared a brief glance, relief mingling with grim focus on his face. "Aria! The anchor's behind that idol—the beast is defending it. Help me end this!"

Reziel saw the anchor in question: a second squat pillar, glowing fiercely with runic lines. Cracks riddled its surface, as though Galland's group had partially damaged it, but it still pulsed with enough energy to keep the main gate intact.

The guardian roared, swinging a massive stone arm that glowed with dark mana. Galland blocked with his sword, but the impact sent him stumbling. Aria lunged, spear tip blazing golden light, striking the creature's flank. Stone shards cracked away, but thick sinew absorbed the brunt.

Aria, shouting: "Reziel, see if you can disrupt the anchor! Galland and I will handle this brute!"

Reziel's nerves fired with both anticipation and dread. I'm almost out of mana… but I can't stand idle. He skirted the edge of the chamber, avoiding the guardian's swings. Meanwhile, Galland and Aria fought in practiced tandem—Galland's sword hammered at weak points, while Aria's spear thrusts forced the guardian to pivot.

At the idol's base, Reziel found the anchor. Its runic lines glowed, tethered to thick arcs of violet energy that snaked into the walls. Sparks of warding magic spat outward, scorching the floor. He set his staff aside, clutched the small crystal from Anora in one hand, and gathered what little power he had left.

A swirl of negative energy flared around Reziel's fingertips. Immediately, his ribcage stung, blackish veins throbbing beneath the bandages. The memory of Overlimit's agony flashed through his mind—not again! But a lesser Dark Pulse might suffice to destabilize the anchor.

He summoned a controlled sphere of shadowy power. The anchor's protective barrier flared in response, arcs of purple lightning racing to repel him. Reziel gritted his teeth, pressed the crystal to his chest, and unleashed the pulse.

The blast collided with the anchor, fissuring the runic lines. A wave of feedback jolted Reziel, nearly knocking him backward. Pain lanced through his side, forcing a hiss from his lips. Hold it together…

Behind him, the guardian bellowed in pain. Galland's sword had found a crack in its stony hide, while Aria's spear drove deeper from another angle. Chunks of obsidian chipped away, revealing a sinewy, pulsating core. The creature staggered, clearly wounded but still swinging.

Aria, voice strained: "One more hit—!"

Reziel mustered a second pulse, smaller this time, driving it into the anchor's weakened barrier. The runic circle sparked, warping inwards. Then the entire pillar shattered with a thunderous crack, spraying shards and releasing a backlash of purple energy that rattled the chamber.

The guardian froze mid-swing, roaring in anguish as if the anchor's destruction siphoned its strength. Aria and Galland seized the moment. With twin strikes—Galland's blade from above, Aria's spear from below—they impaled the beast's core. Its obsidian shell splintered, a final roar echoing before it toppled into rubble, inert.

Silence crashed over the chamber, broken only by labored breathing. Reziel's vision blurred, knees buckling as he fought to remain upright. He glanced at the destroyed anchor—a smoking ruin of half-melted runes. The second anchor is gone. The gate must be vulnerable now…

Galland withdrew his sword from the guardian's remains, panting. His armor bore fresh dents and scorch marks. Aria knelt briefly to ensure the creature stayed down, then turned to Reziel with concern. "Are you okay?"

He gave a shaky nod, pressing a trembling hand to his side. "I'll live. The anchor?"

Galland managed a weary smile. "You did it. With both anchors gone, the main gate's wards should be nearly drained." He gestured to a fallen knight behind him. "We lost two more… but Anora still breathes. She's pinned—help me free her."

Aria and Reziel rushed over to the collapsed debris where Anora lay trapped, a large slab pinning her legs. Aria, with Galland's help, levered the stone away. Reziel crouched, supporting Anora's head, wincing as pain flared across his ribs. Anora's eyes fluttered open, gratitude and relief washing across her face.

Anora, hoarse: "D-did we get it?" Aria, smiling: "Yes. Both anchors are down. Rest now. We'll get you patched up."

They gathered the wounded knights who still clung to consciousness. The guardian's assault had been brutal. Of Galland's team of six, only four remained, including Anora and Galland himself, all battered. They laid the fallen aside, offering hurried prayers. The fortress's oppressive aura seemed to recede—almost grudgingly—as though acknowledging the wards' collapse.

Reziel slumped against a crumbled pillar, letting out a ragged exhale. The creeping sense of doom that pervaded every breath felt marginally lighter now. We're close. The gate above, or behind them, would be open for the knights to storm the sanctum—assuming the cult didn't have one final trick.

Galland addressed Aria, voice laced with exhaustion. "We must regroup with the others at the main gate. If the wards are truly broken, we can breach it—but we'll need every able fighter. We can't leave anyone behind for the cult's mercy."

Aria agreed. "Ronan's holding the gate for us. Kiana might have rejoined him by now with a wounded knight." She turned to Reziel. "Think you can make it back?"

He nodded, though pain throbbed in his side. "Yes. Let's finish this."

With unspoken consensus, they formed a support chain for the wounded. Anora leaned on Galland, while another conscious knight braced himself on Aria's shoulder. Reziel used the staff more heavily now, each step jarring his battered ribs. The shattered remains of the anchor lay behind them in smoking ruin, flickering with dying embers of violet energy.

The trek back was a slow march through the battered corridors. Shadows from half-spent torches flicked across pale, anxious faces. Occasional illusions—wisps or half-formed shapes—flickered at the edges of vision, but without the anchors' full power, they dissipated quickly.

At last, they reached the junction where Ronan was meant to stand guard. The corridor yawned open into the antechamber with the giant gate. Ronan rushed forward from behind a broken column, relief plain on his face. "You're alive! The gate's changed—it's… nearly inert."

The once-imposing stone gate now lay riddled with cracks, its runes all but dark. Only faint wisps of warding energy hissed sporadically, insufficient to maintain a proper barrier. Even the violet lightning arcs had fizzled into sporadic sparks.

Reziel noticed that Kiana was there too, along with the injured knight she had rescued. She gave a small wave. "He's stable—Ronan's been helping me watch the gate. No cultists tried to come through, but we heard more chanting from the other side."

Galland's jaw tightened. "Then they're still at it, deeper in. Possibly their final ritual, or a desperate plan." He gazed over the battered group. "We've no time to waste."

The knights—eight or nine left able to stand—assembled near the gate's base. Aria set her spear aside briefly, loosening the straps on her gauntlets. Her face betrayed equal parts weariness and resolve. Galland tested the gate's stone, and a chunk crumbled free in his hand.

Galland, voice grave: "We've come too far to turn back. This gate is almost done. On the other side is likely the cult's final lair—and the sealed sanctum they're trying to unbind. We break through, end them, and ensure the fortress's evil is purged."

A few knights murmured agreement, though their eyes flicked to the wounded in their ranks. Reziel clutched the staff, adrenaline surging anew. If they're still chanting, then the true horror might be close to awakening.

Galland squared his shoulders, turning to Reziel. "Given your condition, I won't ask you to lead the charge. But we can't deny your System-based spells might be crucial if the cult unleashes something monstrous."

Reziel, voice trembling but resolute: "I'll fight… just not Overlimit. Let's hope normal magic suffices."

Aria placed a hand on Reziel's arm, her gaze warm yet edged with concern. "We stand together."

With careful strikes, the knights hammered at the cracked gate. Stone chips rained down, each blow weakening whatever wards clung to life. Ronan and Kiana combined their efforts, while Galland directed them to strike the structural weak points. The gate groaned, shedding dust and broken runes in a flurry of sparks.

A final push from Galland's sword, bolstered by Reziel's feeble Dark Pulse, caused the gate to collapse inward with a thunderous crash. A gust of stale wind whooshed out, carrying the reek of incense, blood, and something older—rancid, ancient, seething with malevolent intent.

Silence enveloped the antechamber. The knights gazed into the gloom beyond the rubble, torches and lanterns revealing a wide tunnel descending into unknown depths. Tattered banners hung from the ceiling, inscribed with serpentine symbols. A distant chanting rose and fell, sounding both triumphant and despairing at once.

Sir Galland stepped to the threshold, sword gripped tightly. "We go," he said, voice echoing off the vaulted darkness. "Stay close, watch each other's backs. The final confrontation awaits."

Aria swallowed her fear, spear poised. Ronan, Kiana, and the other knights—some hobbling, some leaning on each other—formed a determined phalanx. Reziel, heart pounding, took a place near Aria, staff in hand. All that remains is the cult's innermost chamber, the sealed sanctum they've tried so desperately to unbind.

They moved as one, crossing the collapsed threshold. The corridor beyond sloped down, deeper than any they'd yet traversed. The chanting swelled in volume, pulsing like a heartbeat in the stifling air. Flickers of violet flame licked the walls, shaping horrifying silhouettes of monstrous forms—whether illusions or prophetic visions, none could say.

Reziel exhaled, ignoring the tremor in his legs. This is it. The secrets behind the System, the rumored Ritual of Severance, and the Circle of Twilight's final stand—all waiting in the darkness ahead.