Chapter 27: Artifact call's

The chamber stretched endlessly before them, a vast ruin of crumbling stone and flickering crimson runes. The air was thick, charged with something unseen—expectant.

And in the center of it all, resting atop a pristine stone altar, was the artifact.

It wasn't rusted or broken like the last one. It sat undisturbed, its surface gleaming under the dim light. It was waiting.

Orin barely took a step before the sigil on his wrist pulsed.

A sharp sting raced up his arm, not painful, but enough to send a jolt through his senses.

His breath hitched.

The artifact was reacting to him.

It knows I'm here.

He clenched his fist, jaw tightening as a thought pressed into his mind.

Why hadn't I read the full novel?

---

Orin had thought he understood this world.

He had relied on his partial knowledge of the novel, assuming that as long as he stayed out of major events, he could carve his own path.

But this place… this labyrinth, these artifacts, these whispers…

None of it was in the story.

That meant one of two things—either this part of the world was never explored in the original novel, or…

It had been erased.

The thought made his skin crawl.

He should have finished the damn book.

Would it have changed anything? Would he have known about this?

Or had he always been walking into something no one had ever escaped from?

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

This wasn't just a minor deviation.

This was something else.

Something outside the story's control.

---

Orin forced himself to focus. The others were watching the artifact cautiously, but none of them felt what he felt.

The hum beneath his skin. The invisible pull.

The whispers had stopped commanding him like before.

Now… they were inviting him.

"Come"

"You have already begun to change"

His pulse quickened.

This wasn't the same as the first artifact. That one had been aggressive, desperate. It had tried to force itself onto him.

This one…

This one was waiting for his choice.

Orin hesitated.

If he reached for it, what would change? Would he be able to control it? Or would he just be walking into another trap?

The sigil on his wrist pulsed again, hotter this time.

He exhaled slowly.

There was only one way to find out.

---

Reynard took a cautious step beside him. "Do you feel anything?"

Orin's fingers twitched. "Yeah."

Darius sighed. "Let me guess—bad idea?"

Selene's gaze darkened. "This artifact is different from the last. It's not corrupt. It's… selective."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Darius muttered.

Amara crossed her arms. "At this point, what choice do we have? We don't know how deep this labyrinth goes, and the Academy isn't coming."

Reynard frowned. "We don't take unnecessary risks."

Orin let out a dry chuckle. "That's the thing, Reynard. This isn't unnecessary."

Reynard's sharp gaze locked onto him. "You're sure about that?"

Orin didn't answer.

Because the artifact had already chosen him.

---

Orin exhaled, taking another step forward.

Selene tensed. "Orin, wait—"

"I have to do this."

Darius groaned. "You really don't."

But no one stopped him.

His hand hovered over the artifact, the warmth of its energy brushing against his skin. Unlike the last one, it wasn't forceful.

It was offering itself.

Orin hesitated one last time.

Then, he reached out—

The moment his fingers touched it, the entire chamber trembled.

The runes ignited, casting blinding light across the ruins. The walls shuddered, a deep, unnatural vibration coursing through the ground beneath their feet.

Then—everything changed.

The moment Orin's fingers brushed the artifact, a pulse of energy surged through the chamber.

It wasn't an explosion. It wasn't violent.

It was a pull.

The world around him lurched—his vision blurred as if the entire cavern had folded in on itself. Reynard, Darius, Amara, Selene—they all faded. The altar, the runes, even the stone beneath his feet dissolved into nothing.

And suddenly, he was falling.

---

Cold air rushed past Orin as he plummeted into endless darkness.

But there was no gravity. No sense of up or down. He wasn't falling through air—he was being dragged through something deeper.

And then—he stopped.

Not by landing. Not by hitting the ground.

He simply… was.

The abyss stretched infinitely in every direction. There was no light, yet he could see. No walls, yet the space felt contained.

Then, he felt them.

Not eyes.

Gazes.

Thousands. Watching. Judging.

And then, the voices came.

Not whispers. Not commands.

Laughter.

Low. Amused. Ancient.

Orin's chest tightened. "Who's there?"

A deep, resonating voice answered.

"One who has been waiting."

---

The darkness rippled.

Something emerged—not a being, not a form, but a presence.

A shape—vast and undefined, shifting constantly. Its very existence bent the world around it, refusing to take a single shape.

Orin felt it smile.

"You are an interesting one."

His fists clenched. "What is this place?"

"A place between. A realm of trials. You have entered willingly."

Orin's breath hitched. "Because of the artifact?"

"No. Because of you."

A slow chill crept up his spine.

"You were always meant to be here, Orin Lumis."

His pulse pounded. "That's not my real name."

The presence chuckled.

"And yet, here you stand."

---

The abyss shifted.

Suddenly, there were others.

Figures in the distance, standing in a perfect line, unmoving.

Orin's stomach dropped as he recognized them.

Reynard. Darius. Selene. Amara.

They weren't real.

They weren't moving.

Yet they stood before him, shadowed and silent.

The voice spoke again.

"You understand strength. You seek power."

Orin clenched his fists. "I don't seek anything."

"Lies."

The world around him rippled, twisting.

"You wished to be more than an extra. More than a forgotten piece. But do you understand what that truly means?"

The ground shifted beneath him.

The figures before him moved.

Not toward him.

Against each other.

A battle.

A test.

And only one would survive.

"Prove it."

"Choose."

The figures moved.

Not in a normal way. Not like living people.

They snapped into motion, like marionettes on invisible strings. Their blades clashed with unnatural precision, their movements eerily perfect, as if they weren't fighting of their own will.

Reynard parried a blow from Darius, their swords sparking as they met. Selene flickered across the battlefield, dodging, striking, her eyes cold and empty. Amara spun her spear, her attacks relentless, her face unreadable.

It wasn't them.

But it looked like them.

Orin's chest tightened as he took a step forward. His voice came out hoarse. "Stop."

No one reacted.

No hesitation. No recognition.

The battle raged on.

"You must choose."

The voice rumbled all around him, pressing against his skull like a physical force.

"Only one can survive. Decide who is worthy."

Orin's breathing grew uneven.

"What happens if I don't?"

The presence laughed.

"Then all fall."

The battlefield shifted—shrinking, closing in, the shadows pressing tighter.

He saw it now—the moment one of them fell, they would be erased. Not just killed. Removed.

Like they had never existed.

Orin's fingers twitched.

This wasn't a battle.

It was a purge.

And he was meant to be its judge.