Chapter 127: Cracked Root Tunnels

[Second Floor]

After the chaos of the first floor, the party gathered around the faintly glowing enchanted circle left behind by a long-forgotten hero. It pulsed with warm light—a rare sanctuary amidst the rot.

The silence felt unnatural after the earlier storm of violence. Noah checked their surroundings once more, then sat down with a quiet sigh. He pulled food from his inventory—dried fruits, bread, and water—offering it around.

"We'll rest an hour," he said. "Then we move."

Layla leaned against a blackened tree, her scythe resting across her lap, her amber eyes distant but focused. Lyra stayed quiet, her pale fingers curled around a crystal of condensed snow she was recharging. Scarlett twirled one of her daggers, her crimson eyes still alert, never dropping her guard.

Time passed slowly.

And then—refreshed, focused—they stood before the staircase that spiraled down into the earth. The entrance yawned like the throat of a beast.

They entered.

[Second Floor: Cracked Root Tunnels]

A chill greeted them—not the cold of ice, but damp, old earth. The air was thicker here, almost suffocating. Gnarled roots snaked through every inch of the narrow corridors. The walls were breathing. Yes—breathing. In and out, like the heartbeat of something ancient.

Faint green bioluminescence lit parts of the tunnel. The ground was slick, the walls pulsating with fungal growths. The further they stepped in, the more the air stank of rot and spore.

Noah led, blade drawn, Divine Eyes activated. "Something's watching us."

Suddenly—

A howl.

From the ceiling, a blur of moss and shadow lunged.

Blight Wolf.

Its fur was shaggy, laced with fungi and streaks of crimson. Its claws glowed faintly purple.

Lyra moved first.

"Back!" she shouted, stepping forward, her palm glowing icy blue.

Frost Lance pierced the air, a sharpened spear of ice that skewered the Blight Wolf mid-leap. It exploded into spores—but another howl echoed.

Four more wolves charged from the darkness, eyes glowing with corruption.

Scarlett was already moving.

"Shadow Step!"

She vanished into mist, reappearing behind one of the wolves, her daggers a blur.

Silent Gale. Wind spiraled around her blades as she cut deep, then flipped mid-air.

Shadow Spear! A spear of pure darkness shot forward, impaling a second wolf.

But the wolves were fast—unnaturally so.

Two flanked Layla. One lunged—

Reaper's Slash.

Her scythe carved through it, leaving a trail of cursed flame.

The second jumped—

Too close.

Cursed Touch.

She caught it mid-air, her hand pressing into its head. The wolf howled as its life force drained in seconds.

Soul Drain. Layla's smile twisted, her hair lifting slightly as shadowy energy swirled around her.

Then the tunnel groaned.

Roots burst from the walls.

From the corrupted earth rose two Tainted Trolls, barely able to move within the narrow space. Their roars shook the tunnels.

Noah stepped forward.

"Gale Dance."

He spun, his sword singing through the air, wind swirling in precise arcs. The first troll reeled back from the slashes—but it healed, red eyes glowing.

"Scarlett, elemental damage!"

"Got it!"

Wind Slash—a crescent of air—hit the troll, staggering it.

Flame Cannon.

Noah's left hand ignited, and a stream of fire engulfed the troll's chest.

It screamed, stumbled—and collapsed, blackened.

The second troll roared, charging Lyra.

She held her ground.

"Frozen Shroud."

A wall of ice burst up in front of her, and when the troll smashed it—Glacial Strike followed.

The lance of cold rammed into its chest, freezing it mid-roar.

Noah dashed in.

"Phantom Edge."

His blade split into three shadows, slashing through the frozen troll, shattering it.

The air fell silent. Spores drifted around them.

But it wasn't over.

A low chant echoed ahead. The air shimmered with illusion.

Mycelial Spirits.

Ghostly mushroom-like beings floated toward them, their translucent bodies twitching unnaturally.

They screamed.

It wasn't sound—it was mana, ripping into their minds.

Everyone winced. Lyra dropped to one knee.

"Illusion magic!" she gasped.

Layla snarled. "Shadow Bind!"

Black chains burst from the floor, grabbing two of the spirits.

Scarlett threw a Wind Shuriken—it passed through one, but it shimmered and fractured.

Noah held up a hand.

"Radiant Nova."

A burst of holy light erupted from his palm, engulfing the tunnel. The spirits shrieked and melted, purged by the purity of the spell.

Breathing heavy, they looked around.

Dead roots.

Melting illusions.

Charred trolls.

Ice still clinging to the floor.

They had survived.

And up ahead—glowing faintly—was a secret chamber, half-covered by twisted vines.

Scarlett stepped toward it, her voice quiet. "Should we check it?"

Noah nodded. "But carefully. There might be an altar."

And behind them, the corrupted tunnels pulsed, as if warning them:

You're not welcome here.

Scarlett knelt beside the vines concealing the arched tunnel. Her fingers gently brushed away the twisted growth. Unlike the rest of the dungeon, this vine was alive—not moving, but… breathing. As if it could sense them.

She glanced back. "There's something behind this. It's not trapped—just stubborn."

"Let me," Lyra said quietly.

She placed her palm on the vines and whispered, her breath frosting the air.

Snowfall.

A gentle flurry of shimmering snowflakes spiraled out from her hand, landing on the corrupted vines. With a hiss, they began to harden and crack—until Scarlett sliced through them with her dagger.

The path opened with a soft creak.

They entered.

[Secret Chamber: The Forgotten Altar]

The room was circular, hollowed by time. Stone walls were etched with runes so old they no longer glowed, but still pulsed faintly when Noah stepped closer. At the center stood an ancient altar—twisted, malformed, half-eaten by corruption.

What once was a shrine of life had been consumed.

Above it, a root-choked statue of a forgotten goddess, her face obscured, her wings broken. Her hands were outstretched—yet now grasping a black crystal, pulsing with sickly red light.

"It's a corrupted altar," Lyra murmured. "You can feel it. Like something poisoning the mana around it."

Scarlett stepped forward cautiously, her shadow magic reacting subtly. "I think... there's a way to purify it."

Noah nodded. "Let me try something."

He placed his hand on the altar, ignoring the sting as darkness tried to slither into his veins.

"Purification"

Light surged from his palm, golden and warm. The shadows screamed. The corrupted crystal cracked violently—and then shattered in a silent burst.

Suddenly—

The runes flared with color.

A hidden compartment opened beneath the altar.

Inside: a small white vial with swirling blue light, and beside it, an ancient scroll sealed with silver wax.

Scarlett picked up the scroll. "This… isn't any common language."

"I'll store it. We'll check it once we're out," Noah said.

Lyra examined the vial. "High-grade mana elixir. Pure. This could restore someone's magic fully in a crisis."

The goddess statue's face, once obscured, seemed faintly clearer now—still cracked, but less burdened.

Layla, watching quietly, tilted her head. "It fought back. Even as a statue. That's kind of beautiful."

As they turned to leave, the chamber behind them began to crumble—returning to the earth that birthed it.

The path out was silent.

And ahead, the stairs to the next floor waited… darker, narrower.

Their rest was over.

-to be continued...