Tyro's body convulsed in the pit as rage laced through every nerve ending. He gasped, clutching at the broken stones beneath him, eyes wide as his vision turned to horror.
His heart beating like a drum, echoing violently through his skull. His wounds sizzled, closing with a burning hiss. His fingernails cracked, replaced by claw-like growths. Muscles swelled unnaturally beneath his skin, veins glowing like molten chains under his flesh.
Chain One: Broken.
Tyro screamed again, but this time it was fury. A deep, primal roar that shook the walls of the pit.
The creature that had devoured the Silver-ranked hunters stirred again in the shadows above. A gnarled, multi-limbed beast turning towards him.
Tyro charged. With no hesitation. No thought in his mind.
He met the beast head-on.
Claws and fangs tore into his shoulder. He didn't flinch. He grabbed its throat with his bare hand and slammed it into the wall, over and over until its screech became a wet gurgle. Bones crunched. He fought like a man possessed.
Like a monster.
Minutes passed—or hours. He couldn't tell. When the fury finally receded, Tyro collapsed, drenched in blood, his own and the creature's.
He gasped for breath. His muscles twitched. He could barely think.
"What... what was that?" he muttered.
A low chuckle echoed through the pit.
"The first chain," said the voice. "You've begun the Path of the Ashenbound. Now survive it."
Tyro tried to stand, but the fatigue hit like a wall. His limbs gave out, and his vision blurred.
---
When he awoke, the Cave was quiet. Dead quiet. And the pit had somehow changed.
A circle burned faintly beneath him, as if the pit had reacted to his outburst.
He forced himself to his feet, limping through the tunnel above.
He entered into the main corridor of the collapsed Dungeon. It looked like a cathedral torn apart by earthquakes—massive statues crumbled, roots pulsing across the cathedral.
And then he saw them.
Arven and the remaining two Silver-ranked Humters were standing before a large door, inspecting a relic embedded in its surface. They hadn't noticed him yet.
Tyro's blood began to boiled.
He clenched his fists. Fire raced through his veins again—but he held it back.
"You left me to die," Tyro growled.
They turned, startled.
"Impossible," gasped Arven. "How are you—"
The woman with the red tattoos drew her blade. "He's infected. Kill him."
Tyro didn't wait. He rushed forward, striking before she could react. She blocked his punch—but the impact shattered her blade.
Her eyes widened. "What the—"
He slammed his fist into her gut, sending her flying across the room.
Arven backed away. "You're not human anymore..."
"Neither are you," Tyro hissed."
The third member tried to flank him, but Tyro ducked low and drove his knee into the man's ribs, snapping his bones. With a twist, he flipped the Hunter over his shoulder and into the stone wall. The body didn't move afterward.
Only Arven remained.
"You were bait," Arven stammered. "That was the plan. We needed someone disposable—"
Tyro walked forward slowly, blood dripping from his arms.
"You used me. Almost got me killed.
Arven swung his sword wildly. Tyro caught the blade in his bare hand. Blood poured down his palm, but he didn't care. His grip tightened.
The sword snapped in half.
Arven screamed. Tyro drove his elbow into his face, dropping him instantly.
It was over.
Tyro stood among the wreckage of the Silver-tier team, panting. The rage was fading, and with it came the pain.
So much pain.
He fell to his knees, trembling.
"There's more chains to break," the voice in his mind whispered. "You've only just begun."
Tyro looked down at his bloodied hands. "What have I become...?"