Chapter 22: Encounter

The air shook as the towering stone sentinels advanced. Their massive bodies, engraved with glowing runes, radiated an eerie light, casting long shadows over Orin and his group.

Boom!

A sentinel's fist crashed into the ground, sending stone splintering in every direction. Orin barely sidestepped the impact, his heart pounding as he slashed at the construct's leg. His blade struck with full force—but barely scratched the surface.

"They're too damn tough!" Finn shouted, flipping backward to avoid a sweeping strike. His daggers gleamed as he retaliated, but the sentinel didn't even flinch.

"They have cores inside their chests!" Cassandra called out. "That's the weak point—but we have to break through the armor first!"

Easier said than done.

Kael, standing further back, gritted his teeth as mana flared around him. "Then let's see if they like this—"

He raised his staff, chanting in quick succession. A pulse of crackling lightning exploded outward, striking one of the sentinels directly in the chest. The impact left a scorched mark, but the construct barely slowed.

Orin's breath hitched. "Not even magic's stopping them?"

Before he could react, another sentinel's massive foot came crashing down toward him. He rolled to the side just in time, feeling the sheer force of the impact rattle through his bones.

Mira's voice cut through the chaos. "We're getting pushed back—Kael, anything stronger?!"

"I need time!" Kael snapped. "And cover!"

Cassandra grit her teeth. "We don't have time!"

The largest sentinel suddenly lifted its foot—then slammed it down.

A massive shockwave tore through the battlefield.

The ground fractured violently, deep cracks spreading like veins beneath their feet.

Orin's balance wavered. He saw the stone beneath him begin to split apart.

"ORIN—!"

The last thing he saw was his teammates' horrified faces as the ground beneath him collapsed.

And then, he was falling.

---

Orin plunged into darkness.

The chaotic battlefield above vanished in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming void that swallowed everything. Wind howled past his ears, his body twisting mid-air, tumbling uncontrollably. His fingers grasped at nothing, desperately searching for something—anything—to slow his descent.

The fall wasn't natural.

Gravity felt warped, like an unseen force was pulling him deeper, guiding his descent toward something unknown.

His chest tightened. His heart pounded.

A dim glow flickered against his skin.

His artifact—the strange, ancient relic buried within him—was reacting. A faint warmth pulsed from it, as if responding to whatever lay below.

And then—

Impact.

The force of the landing knocked the air from his lungs. Pain shot through his shoulder as he crashed onto rough stone, his body rolling across jagged ground before finally skidding to a stop.

Dust and debris exploded around him. For a moment, everything was silent.

He wasn't dead.

Orin let out a pained groan, forcing himself onto his hands and knees. Every muscle ached from the landing, but nothing felt broken. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

His fingers pressed against the stone beneath him. It was cold—unnaturally so. He looked around, blinking as his vision adjusted to the dim, flickering blue glow that illuminated his surroundings.

He was in a massive cavern.

The walls were jagged and uneven, stretching impossibly high, vanishing into darkness above. Strange veins of glowing blue energy pulsed through the stone, casting eerie shifting shadows. Thick, black roots slithered along the ground, their slow, deliberate movements making his skin crawl.

A distant hum vibrated in the air. It wasn't a sound—it was a presence.

He wasn't alone.

Orin tightened his grip on his sword, instincts screaming at him to stay alert.

"Where… am I?" he whispered to himself.

His mind raced. This wasn't just another part of the labyrinth. It felt different, as if he had been pulled into something older, deeper.

A chilling realization settled in his gut.

This place wasn't meant to be found.

Then—he heard it.

A soft, rhythmic tapping.

The sound was distant. Steady. Deliberate. It echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the uneven walls, growing louder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Orin's pulse quickened.

Someone—or something—was nearby.

He exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. He had survived the fall, but his team wasn't here.

They weren't calling for him.

Had they landed somewhere else?

Or… had they not survived?

No. He couldn't think like that. They had to be alive.

But first, he needed to figure out where he was.

He took a careful step forward, his boots crunching against the dust-covered ground. His free hand brushed against the pulsing roots, and he immediately recoiled. The sensation was wrong—like touching something alive but not human.

The rhythmic tapping grew louder.

Orin inhaled sharply, his muscles tensing.

Then, in the distance—he saw it.

A silhouette.

A lone figure stood before a massive black stone door, their back turned to Orin.

The glowing red runes carved into the door pulsed in sync with the tapping.

The figure remained motionless.

Orin's grip on his sword tightened. He stepped forward cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest.

Then, the figure moved.

A slow, unnatural tilt of the head—not like someone turning in curiosity, but something that wasn't used to moving like a person.

Orin's blood ran cold.

He recognized the figure now.

Luther.

But something was wrong.

Luther stood before the massive black stone door, his back facing him. The eerie glow of red runes pulsed across the surface, casting shifting shadows over his form.

The rhythmic tapping from before had stopped.

And yet, something still felt off.

Orin took a cautious step forward, keeping his sword raised.

"Luther?"

No response.

"Luther, can you hear me?"

A long silence followed. Then, in a voice not his own, Luther spoke.

"He is listening."

Orin's grip tightened. His instincts screamed at him to move, to run—

Luther lunged.

He moved so fast that Orin barely saw him.

A dagger slashed toward his throat.

CLANG!

Orin blocked just in time, his blade vibrating from the impact. Sparks flashed as steel met steel.

Then—Luther vanished.

Orin's body reacted before his mind did. He twisted, raising his sword—

A second dagger came from behind.

Orin barely dodged, but the tip cut through his shoulder, drawing blood.

Pain flared through his arm.

Too fast.

Luther was too fast.

Orin jumped back, trying to put distance between them, but Luther didn't hesitate. He vanished again, reappearing at Orin's side, daggers flashing in rapid succession.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each strike was precise, relentless, inhuman.

Orin could barely keep up. His arms burned from the force of each block. His breathing grew ragged. Luther wasn't fighting like himself.

He was fighting like a machine built to kill.

The Battle Turns Bloody

Orin tried to counterattack—a wide swing aimed at Luther's chest.

Luther bent backward at an unnatural angle, dodging completely.

Orin's eyes widened. That wasn't possible.

Then—Luther countered.

A dagger slashed across Orin's ribs.

Pain erupted.

Orin gasped, stumbling back. Warm blood seeped into his clothes as he clutched his side.

But Luther didn't stop.

He was already moving again.

Orin barely raised his sword in time as another attack came straight for his heart.

He blocked, but the force behind it sent shockwaves through his arms.

Luther fought with no wasted movement. No hesitation.

Like he was being controlled.

Orin was losing.

And he knew it.

Orin's Last Chance

Orin's vision blurred from the pain. He needed to turn the fight around.

Luther lunged again, daggers aiming low—a feint.

Orin fell for it.

Luther twisted mid-air, slamming a dagger into Orin's thigh.

Shhhk!

Orin collapsed to one knee.

A dagger was now buried deep into his leg.

He could barely breathe. His hands shook as he gripped his sword. He had lost.