Awakening The Forgotten

The light wasn't just blinding Maximus—it was doing something else, something far more sinister. But he couldn't see it. His arms were shielding his face, and the brightness felt like it was burning through his skin, peeling back his flesh layer by layer. The longer it pulsed, the hotter and harsher it became, outshining even itself.

The tablet hovered in the air, vibrating with energy. It was the source of the light—an ancient artifact now awakened. Maximus's blood hadn't just activated it; it had fed it. The hieroglyphics etched into the obsidian surface began to glow, not with fire, but with a dying ember's flame—red and black, as if the symbols themselves were being consumed from within.

Then, as the tablet finished burning through its symbols, the light finally began to fade, allowing Maximus to uncover his eyes and take a look at what was happening.

The symbols—the same ones that once adorned the surface of the stone—had risen into the air. They floated, weightless, crackling with red heat and shadows like coal lit from inside. They moved deliberately, reshaping and aligning into a paragraph that pulsed ominously before freezing in place.

Maximus stared at it, baffled, his breath catching.

"What in the…?" he murmured, cautiously stepping forward.

Suddenly, that deafening sound returned, loud enough to rattle the stone walls. Maximus clamped his hands over his ears. The floating symbols ignited again, blazing brighter, reshuffling as if invisible hands were dealing ancient cards. The paragraph restructured itself, forming a new sentence entirely.

Maximus squinted. He didn't understand the language, but he could tell—it wasn't the same as before. He remembered the shapes from earlier. These were different.

"What the hell is going on?" he said aloud, completely disoriented.

These weren't normal letters. They were symbols—shapes from a forgotten world: triangles, circles, squares, twisted geometric patterns. It wasn't just unreadable—it felt alien.

He didn't even realize he was moving. His hand extended slowly, almost against his will, as if something was calling him.

"Amazing," he whispered, completely entranced.

The moment his finger grazed one of the symbols, it latched onto him.

Maximus recoiled in horror, but it was too late. The symbol burned into his skin—through it—like molten metal searing flesh. He screamed. Then more symbols followed, invading him, carving themselves beneath his skin like worms tunneling through veins.

Maximus howled, flailing and clawing at his arms. He shook, scratched, rubbed, anything to stop the pain. But it was useless. The glowing symbols snaked their way from one arm to the other, branding themselves into his flesh.

Then—finally—it stopped.

Maximus collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The agony had left him broken and shaken. He stared at the fresh markings on his arms—new tattoos, alien and glowing faintly, carved into him by something far beyond his understanding.

And then, with a dull thud, the tablet—the very source of it all—dropped from midair and hit the ground.

Maximus jumped. He'd forgotten all about it. He turned and approached, curious... cautious.

The tablet was unrecognizable. Its vibrant obsidian sheen was gone, replaced by the ashen decay of something that had burned from the inside out. It looked like blackened coal, lifeless.

He reached out, touched it with a single fingertip—and it crumbled into dust.

Gone.

Just like that.

Maximus stood frozen, his heart pounding. His mind reeled. After everything he had seen, touched, endured… it was gone. The tablet, the light, the answers. All of it.

Something inside him shifted. His eyes, once burning with determination, now dulled—like a flame flickering on its last breath.

He dropped to his knees again, staring at the new markings on his arms. He didn't know what they meant. He didn't know who he was anymore.

Then, faintly… he heard it.

"Help…"

It was a whisper. Distant, like wind brushing past stone.

"Help me…" A second voice—pained, afraid.

Maximus's eyes widened.

"Please… help us."

A third voice, softer. Closer.

"You have to help us…" A woman's voice. Desperate.

He ignored it at first, thinking it was in his head. But the voices persisted—so real, so pleading. Something in him stirred.

Without realizing it, Maximus was standing. His body moved before his mind could catch up. Like a puppet. Like something else was guiding him.

"You gotta help us," said the woman's voice again, trembling with fear.

Maximus moved deeper into the shadows, unaware. His legs walked on their own, his arms limp at his sides.

He stopped.

Looked up.

But at what? There was nothing in front of him. Only shadow.

Only… presence.

"Please help us. Help all of us," said the voice again, a chorus now echoing around him.

Maximus blinked.

Something cracked in his mind. He gasped—pulled back just before his knees hit the ground. He had been about to kneel. To surrender.

"No… What the hell am I doing?" he grunted, fighting for control.

His body resisted. It wanted to kneel. Something was pressing down on him, like gravity made of will. His legs trembled under the pressure.

"What is this? Why can't I move?!" he growled through gritted teeth.

His knee nearly hit the stone—but then, through the haze of compulsion, he heard it.

"Please help. I don't want to die…"

That cry cut through the fog in his mind like a blade.

With a roar, Maximus rolled away, stumbling from the shadows just in time.

He panted hard, clutching his chest, alive but shaken. The room still felt wrong. Heavy. Like eyes were watching him—eyes that didn't blink.

But he didn't look back.

He couldn't.

Because what he didn't know… what he never saw…

Was that something in the shadows had smiled.

And its smile was the only thing visible—curved and cruel, glowing in the dark.

Maximus pulled himself up, trembling. He didn't know why, but he could feel something—something watching him. Its gaze was heavy, oppressive, yet not immediately hostile. Still, fear curled in his stomach.

He forced himself to look forward.

But all he saw… was darkness.

That didn't stop the feeling. It wasn't like the creatures he had fought before—this presence felt different. Calmer, but older. Patient. And powerful.

"Hello? Is someone here?" Maximus called, reaching his hand slowly into the shadows ahead.

That's when it began.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Drums echoed from the darkness—not loud or quiet, but unsettlingly steady. Smoke curled around the edges of the chamber, and one by one, six blue flames erupted from the ground, forming a slow-burning ring.

As the last flame ignited, the smoke cleared, and Maximus saw them—creatures unlike anything he had seen before.

There were six of them, three on each side of the circular chamber. They were human-sized, humanoid in shape, but twisted—distorted in a way that screamed wrong.

They were thin—painfully thin, their flesh clinging to bone like old parchment. Their rib cages jutted out. Their skin was pale and cracked, as if drained of all color and moisture. They looked like starving children, cursed to stand for centuries.

Maximus stepped closer, cautious.

Their faces were the only part of them that looked… untouched. Almost normal. But over their eyes, each one wore a strip of filthy linen, tightly wrapped like a blindfold.

"What… what are these things?" he whispered, circling one slowly.

They didn't breathe. They didn't move. Not even a twitch. It was as if they were statues—or corpses, suspended in time.

And then Maximus noticed something else.

Chains.

Each of the creatures was connected by a chain that disappeared into the darkness. Curious, Maximus followed one with his fingers, feeling the cold metal until he reached the neck.

Clang.

He dropped it.

The collar wasn't just a restraint—it was massive, rusty, and embedded with cruel, jagged spikes that dug into the necks of the creatures. They weren't shackled…

They were leashed.

Maximus squinted, staring harder at the collars.

"No way…" he murmured, throat suddenly dry. His lips cracked as a chilling realization washed over him.

"These aren't prisoners," he whispered to himself. "They're… guard dogs?"

Slowly, carefully, he began to back away—making no sound.

Then he saw it—a small plate fixed to each collar.

He leaned in to read them.

Each one bore a single, desperate word:

Help.

Then, on the final collar, scratched in deep, frantic grooves:

Run.

Maximus shouldn't have understood the language written on those plates.

They were etched in some kind of ancient hieroglyphic script, twisted and foreign—nothing he'd ever learned or even seen before. Yet, somehow, he understood every word.

Clearly. Instinctively.

Help.

Run.

He pressed a trembling hand over his mouth, forcing himself to stay quiet—to not breathe too loud, move too fast, or think too recklessly.

These things… they weren't like the goblins he'd fought earlier. He had cut those down in seconds, torn through them like paper. But these—even though they didn't look vile or monstrous—carried a terrifying stillness. An ancient weight. A kind of restrained strength that made the air itself feel heavier.

Maximus had no escape route. No weapon in hand. No exit in sight. Still, he was doing well—tiptoeing through fear itself.

Until it happened.

Click. Whir. Grind.

A low, mechanical sound echoed through the chamber.

Maximus froze.

The chains began to move.

Links scraped against the stone floor, uncoiling from the shadows like serpents. They slithered forward, extending slowly, unnaturally, until they reached the feet of each of the still figures.

Then—

Clink.

The sound changed. The chains dropped like weighted ropes, now slack and pooled beneath the creatures' feet.

The tension shifted.

Maximus felt it deep in his bones.

Something told him to look—not at the chained figures, not at the walls—but at the darkness itself.

The part of the shadow that seemed… alive.

And then he saw it.

Not imagined. Not sensed.

He saw it.

A figure rising from the heart of the abyss—taller than any man, broader than any creature he had faced. Its body was still cloaked in black smoke, only its silhouette visible, but its presence devoured the air around it.

The final boss.

The one that had leashed the others.

The one that had been watching him from the very beginning.

[ End of Chapter ]