The thing did not move.
There was no breath, no sound, not even a blink from a face that had no eyes. The stillness pressed down, thick and suffocating, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see which of us would break first. Beneath its pale, marble-like surface, golden veins pulsed with a slow, relentless rhythm that felt ancient and deliberate. Older than kingdoms. Older than gods, maybe.
And yet it had spoken. Or something had. That twisted, stuttering voice had not come from Arden, and it had not come from inside my head. I was sure of it now. It had to be this thing. It had no mouth, no eyes, but it had found me. And it was watching.
Every instinct screamed that I should get on my knees, lower my head, and pray it did not decide I was worth snuffing out. But I did not.
Instead, I stood there, trembling like a leaf, heart hammering behind my ribs, and tried to speak.
"What do you want with me?"
It was not brave. My voice cracked. My knees were seconds from buckling. But I forced the words out. Because if I was going to die here, I would make sure it heard me first.
No answer came.
It simply hovered, bending light around itself, a ripple tearing at the very seams of reality.
I swallowed hard, cursing the cruel thread of fate that had sewn me into this nightmare. I had promised myself I would not run anymore, and I meant it. But this was no test. This was a death sentence wearing a serene mask.
Even Arden had been thrown aside like a broken doll. If he could not stop it, I had no business even standing here. Shield spell or not, I would last less than a second if that thing so much as looked at me wrong. I could feel that truth in my bones.
My thoughts spun, desperate for a plan. Something smart, something brave. But there was nothing. Just a raw, animal instinct.
And mine screamed one thing.
Run.
So I turned and bolted.
I did not scream or shout. I just ran. Full sprint, no grace, no hesitation. Grass slapped my shins, wet and cold. I barely noticed the mud splattering my pants, my focus locked on the wreckage of trees where Arden had crashed.
The potion he gave me was working. My legs moved with a strength that was not entirely my own. I was not fast, never had been, but I was good at running. Pathetic as that was, life had trained me well in the art of escape. And right now, that was the only skill I had worth anything.
My chest burned, my lungs clawed for air, and my heart hammered like a desperate prisoner. Still, I did not stop. I could not.
Behind me, the air twisted. Not a chase. Not yet. A shift. Something vast and slow, simply watching.
Please, Arden, do not be dead.
If he was, I did not know what I would do. Lie down and wait? Keep running until the world ended? Fight and die in one hit?
No. I was not ready to give up. Not yet.
I had said I wanted to grow stronger, that I would not rely on others to shield me from everything. But that did not mean I wanted to die before I even got the chance.
The way ahead blurred green and gold. My legs pumped on instinct, my breath short and shallow. My body trembled from a primal dread that whispered I was already dead, and my legs just had not accepted it.
I looked behind me, just once, just long enough to see nothing. I felt a half second of relief, and in that heartbeat of distraction, I slammed into something unyielding.
A cry escaped me as I fell back hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. My hands scraped against what felt like stone, or maybe skin. It had not been there a moment ago.
Stupid. I should have kept my eyes forward.
I snapped my head up, and the sight drained the color from my face.
It stood there without sound or motion. Only presence.
It had arrived without a stir of wind, towering with its glasslike form. Fractured golden lines flickered beneath its pale stone skin. The air trembled around it. Silence pressed into my ears, a weight on my chest, the feeling of being judged by something utterly beyond me.
My breath hitched as it lifted a hand, slow and deliberate.
I flinched, raising my arms in a useless shield. Its touch brushed my forehead, a ghost of a sensation, too soft to truly feel.
Then my world shattered.
A scream ripped through my skull, sharp and endless, drowning everything. My thoughts scattered like ashes in a storm.
I was falling, or maybe not, but the world spun wildly. My limbs hung useless.
Its arms caught me.
And in that instant, I knew: if it had struck me with the same force it used on Arden, I would have died. Not broken. Not injured. Just gone. Like mist in sunlight.
I hated that this was happening again. I cursed the string of cruel luck that seemed to follow me. And now this. Of all things. Why did it have to be something so serene and terrible?
Its smooth, eyeless face stared. I could not even blink. I just lay there, stuck in its grip, numb and dead to everything.
Then its head exploded in a burst of black and violet fire.
The attack struck true, but the being did not so much as flinch. Its hand shifted, tilting its head toward the source, utterly unbothered. No scream, no stagger, no sign of injury. Just a cold, patient gaze.
Then the sky turned violent.
Bolts of black violet fire hammered it, relentless and blinding. Faster than I could follow, a colossal clawed hand slammed into its side, sending it crashing through trees. The earth trembled, leaves erupted, and the air shimmered with molten heat.
Someone was running toward me.
My vision was blurred. I could barely lift my head. But I felt them kneeling beside me, a flicker of color and warmth. I could hear them speaking, the words reaching me like echoes from underwater. Soft, quick. A note of genuine worry.
Not Arden. His way was never like this. The voice was too feminine.
A painful familiarity tugged at the edges of my mind.
Something wrapped around me, cool and silky, like a cocoon of velvet. My thoughts cleared. My hearing returned, sharp and sudden. I blinked rapidly and looked up.
"Master?" The voice was softer now, a little unsteady. Then a mischievous smirk curled at the corner of her lips, revealing tiny fangs. "You okay? That thing looked serious. Really serious."
"Lilith?" I rasped, still dazed. "How? How are you even here?"
She helped me up, her wings fluttering nervously. Her silver-pink hair shimmered faintly in the weird forest glow. That ridiculous gothic dress looked less silly here, more like shadows clinging to her.
For a moment, she was quiet, eyes scanning the trees and the heavy air. Then, with a sharp breath, she threw up a V sign, that smug grin blooming back.
"You summoned me. Well, your panic did. A familiar can feel when their master is in true danger. We can warp to your side, even across dimensions, it seems. No one ever told you? I guess it does not come up much." She tilted her head, finally taking in our strange surroundings. "Wait, this is not the capital. Are we even in the Empire anymore? What is this place?"
I did not answer right away. My heart was still hammering. The concept was staggering. No one had ever mentioned such a thing. "Lilith, you have no idea what that thing was. We need to get out of here. It knocked Arden back like he was nothing."
The grin faded from her face.
Before she could speak, a gust of wind tore through the clearing. Birds screeched and scattered. We both looked up.
There it was.
Hovering like a god, untouched and unbothered.
The glowing cracks across its body pulsed brighter now, especially the lines across its face where eyes should have been. It twitched, an unnatural jerk, then floated still once more. Its limbs hung in the air as if submerged in water.
Then the light gathered.
A sun bloomed above its head, a perfect sphere of blinding radiance humming with energy. Then it rained fire.
Beams, no, spears, rained from the orb, howling like judgment made manifest. Heat hit us before they landed.
My instincts screamed.
I threw up my hands, shaping the light into a barrier. It was clear, steady, and whole. It did not flicker or collapse like before. For the first time, the spell held.
But it was not enough.
The blast slammed into it like a battering ram. The shield cracked, then splintered, shattering in a burst of brilliance. One of the shards of energy scraped past my shoulder, and I cried out, stumbling back as pain bloomed sharp and immediate.
My fingers went to the wound, a shallow but burning cut that trickled dark red down my arm. The sting was fierce, a raw reminder that this was no illusion.
Lilith darted forward, her arms rising like a shield. "Stay behind me, Master!"
"I am trying!" I wheezed, clutching my shoulder. Not that she was listening.
A veil of black and red shimmered into existence around her. It was not a solid barrier, but a hungry void that drank the flames whole, twisting and folding them away like blood down a drain.
Her wings flared as she absorbed the fire. A faint crackle ran through her frame. When she shifted her stance, a wince crossed her face. A thin streak of crimson stained her cheek from a spear that had grazed her in the chaos.
"Leave it to me," she said, her voice low but laced with grit. "This is what a loyal familiar is for."
The being stilled mid air, its dreadful barrage vanishing. It floated, unshakable, as if nothing could touch it. Maybe nothing could.
Then the ground lurched.
There was no warning, only a sudden tremor, then a jolt as a slab of earth thrust itself upward beneath our feet. It was not a violent upheaval. It was smooth and deliberate, as if the world itself had decided to lift us closer to the heavens. Higher and higher we rose, piercing through thinning clouds until the air turned sharp and cold, and the skies opened up around us.
A vast plateau awaited, a jagged expanse of rock and rough soil floating high above the world. No trees, no shelter. Just naked earth and an empty sky, the horizon swallowed by mist. In the center, the being floated. Upright. Waiting. Like a marble statue carved from dread.
It turned slowly, radiant and still. The air shimmered subtly around it. Its hand rose. A single finger pointed at us.
Behind it, the sky twisted.
Light formed into spears. Dozens, then hundreds of them, long and cruel, materializing in a vast crescent arc behind the being like a broken halo. Their sharp tips glinted with cold purpose, humming with unknowable magic.
Then the ground cracked open, not to lift, but to birth.
Stone limbs broke the surface. Golems. Half buried hulks of rock and raw mass clawed their way up with sluggish menace.
"Rock golems," Lilith muttered beside me, her voice dripping with mild irritation. "Cheap summons, but they swarm like cockroaches."
I swallowed hard. "Just perfect."
Her wings twitched once, and she stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Let me handle this. You will just slow things down."
I hesitated. Everything in me wanted to step back, to let her take control, to cling to the illusion that I might survive if I just stayed out of the way. But something burned inside me, a bitter ember stoked by Arden's brutal training, by the humiliation of always being protected, by my newfound determination to be more than just surviving dead weight. I was sick of watching others bleed for me.
I clenched my fists and stepped up beside her. My voice was barely a squeak, but I spoke.
"No. I am helping this time."
Brave words for someone who could barely stand.
Lilith gave me a sharp look, her eyebrow raised, then unexpectedly grinned. "Well, since you insist."
She reached into the tight neckline of her dress. I blinked. She was flat-chested enough that there shouldn't have been anywhere to reach, but her hand vanished anyway.
"What are you doi–?"
She pulled out a small, gleaming object. My magi gun, the prototype I had picked as a reward back in the capital.
"You have been keeping that?" I blurted, too stunned to care how dumb I sounded. "In there? Seriously?"
"It is a safe place. Do not judge me." She winked. "The 'important thing' I mentioned I had to do earlier? I got Veylan and Thalia to help me tinker with it. You deserve at least one weapon that is not just your fists and good intentions."
I stared at the weapon. The design was sleek but strange, humming faintly. Runes danced along its barrel, and its handle was warm to the touch when she handed it to me. It did not look powerful, but it felt alive.
She continued, her tone more serious. "It is still a prototype. The Empire built it based on recovered tech from the ancients, but this one is brand new. I hoped it would be stronger, but even after upgrades, it is not, well, divine slaying strong."
I mentally facepalmed. Of course a newly forged weapon would not turn me into a hero overnight.
Still, I nodded. "Thanks. I will make it count."
"You had better," she smirked. "It is powered by your mana, so do not blow your core out."
As I moved into position and aimed at the nearest golem, the gun vibrated faintly in my grip, syncing to my flow of magic. It drank from me like an open conduit, and I immediately felt the strain, the same exhausting pull I remembered from training with Arden. Not unbearable, but definitely not subtle.
I fired.
The shot blasted forward, a crackling bolt of compressed mana and flame. It struck a golem in the chest and sent a spray of stone shards outward. The thing reeled, took a knee, and collapsed in a heap. I stared.
"Did I just?"
Another one turned toward me. I panicked and fired again. I missed. Then again, I grazed it.
The fourth time, I hit it dead center and it cracked apart.
Okay, I thought, my breath shaky. This is real. This is working.
One golem surged from my blind side. I barely saw it in time. I pivoted, raised the gun, and fired a clumsy shot that glanced off its arm. It roared and closed in. I staggered back, my lungs burning, my magic tugging from my gut like unraveling threads.
"Focus, Master!" Lilith's sharp voice cut through the chaos, and a blast of violet fire disintegrated the golem mid swing into glowing gravel.
I shot her a wide eyed look. She did not glance back, just wove through enemy fire like a wraith in velvet.
The silence did not last.
The creature moved. Not fast, but with an inevitability that made my skin crawl. The sky cracked open with no warning, no chant, just motion and consequence. Spears of light and stone tore through the clouds, howling as if they hated the air itself.
The golems ground forward, a dozen of them, their massive limbs gouging the mountainside with every step. No hesitation. No mercy. Pure, raw intent.
Lilith's wings snapped open. She launched skyward, violet fire erupting around her like a blooming curse, beautiful and terrible. Crimson and black ribbons wove through the storm, catching spears mid flight and igniting them before they could crash down.
I kept low, half crawling, half sprinting, doing everything I could to draw the golems' attention away from her. I did not need to win. I just needed to exist loudly enough to keep them focused on me.
Clutching the magi gun, I tried to steady my breath. I had barely had time to understand it, and now I had to use it against real enemies.
Mana pulsed painfully through my veins with every shot. The weapon drank greedily, each blast draining me like the most exhausting magic I had ever attempted. The barrel flared with light, bolts of condensed magic shooting out, sometimes true, sometimes wild. More than once, I lost focus trying to dodge spears of radiant fire while lining up a shot.
I darted between golems, using their hulking forms as shields. Close enough to hide, but far enough to avoid being crushed. The gun was heavier than I expected, awkward in my grip, and every missed shot sent a jolt of frustration through me.
One bolt caught a golem's knee; it staggered, stone cracking with a satisfying crunch. My heart jumped, but before I could celebrate, a massive fist slammed down just inches from where I had been.
I tried to dive aside, but I was too slow. Something smashed into my ribs. White hot pain exploded through my side. I hit the ground, my mouth full of dirt and the coppery taste of blood. I could not breathe. I could not think. There was only pain and a world spinning out of focus.
After a few moments of pitiful struggling, I forced myself to stand, holding my side. It was not broken, I hoped, but every breath felt like the sharp sting of a knife. The golems did not care about my injury. They pressed in relentlessly, and I had to keep moving, pain or not.
I swallowed a curse and adjusted my stance, feeling the familiar, draining burn of mana fatigue wash over me. It was the very same relentless exhaustion I had felt after hours training with Arden. This gun demanded more than aim; it demanded will.
God or not, I was no soldier. But I was determined.
The ground trembled again beneath my feet. A deep, bone humming quake that ran up my legs and settled cold in my chest. I staggered back, my breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a curse. This place, whatever it had become, refused to sit still. It was always shifting, always spiraling further into unreality.
Pain laced my side where a rock fragment had struck me. Nothing grave, but enough to remind me I was not invincible. Not by far.
But this time, something else answered the quake.
All around us, stone surged from the earth like roots twisting free from soil. Walls rose, thick and dark, veined with a silvery substance that shimmered faintly under the false sky. Pillars grew upward in slow, deliberate pulses, arranging themselves with impossible precision into an ancient, brutal geometry. Arched ceilings curved into being overhead, enclosing us in something vast, cold, and eerily symmetrical.
A structure, but not a fortress. Not a palace.
A temple, but not one built for prayer. There were no idols or altars. Just clean, brutal shapes.
The creature tilted its faceless head, taking in the change. Its marble like body glinted, still floating just above the ground, untouched by the world's weight. But something shifted in its posture, as if confused, or perhaps expecting this.
Before I could think further, a voice broke the silence, low and raw, cutting through the stillness like thunder.
"Containment magic…"
I turned sharply. Arden was there, stepping from the shadows behind the creature. One arm hung loose at his side, his cape torn and soaked with blood. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, one lens shattered.
He was breathing hard, but steady, standing upright. He did not look victorious, nor was he broken. But I could see it plain as day: his deep, simmering irritation.
The air around him still crackled with spent power, and the sheer scale of the temple forming around us was proof enough he hadn't been idle; he'd been weaving something immense, a spell that demanded every second of his absence.
"Temple of Ruin," he said, his voice ragged but sharp enough to make the walls seem to lean closer.
At his words, the space answered.
Chains burst from the walls, thick as tree trunks, blackened and writhing like living things, steaming as they moved. Dozens of them shot forward, slamming into the creature's limbs with thunderous, iron strikes.
One through each wrist. One through each ankle. More pierced its chest, shoulders, and back. The being barely flinched, offering no resistance, as if it were already bound deep beneath the surface.
The air pulsed with dread and something else: finality. The scent of endings. A tomb sealing shut.
Arden raised his bloodied hands slowly, his fingers curling together like a prayer. His palms clapped sharply, a sound that echoed like divine judgment.
"Iron Maiden."
Behind the chained figure, the air convulsed and twisted, then split apart.
From shadow and silence, a massive construct unfolded, towering, metallic, and terrible. It looked like a monstrous cage forged from cold, shining metal, a nightmare made for pain. Strange glowing symbols covered its surface, sharp spikes lining every edge, ready to slice flesh like paper. It was cruel, elegant, a dark promise of agony.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, it began to close.
The creature made no sound. No groan. Only a faint pulse traced through the golden cracks in its stone like skin, a slow, steady heartbeat fading into silence.
The doors of the construct shut with a movement that was deliberate and absolute, pressing together like jaws of obsidian.
When the doors sealed, the world held its breath.
It was a solemn verdict. A god condemned, locked away. Not slain, for such a thing might be impossible, but contained. And the sheer effort that had taken spoke volumes about the power of the thing now imprisoned.