The light hit him in the face like it had a personal grudge against him. His hand flew up to cover his eyes. For a second, he actually thought he'd finally made it out.
He lowered his hand slowly, squinting. And his smile disappeared just as slowly, replaced by a broken laugh. He knew it wouldn't be this easy—the universe didn't love him that much—but part of him still hoped it did.
"Yeah. Figures."
Instead of sunlight, he got the next best thing: torches. Dozens of them. Their flames flickered and burned brightly, throwing long shadows across the walls.
In front of him stood a massive, thick black door, left slightly ajar. Whoever had opened it hadn't bothered to close it all the way. It was open just enough for someone his size to squeeze through. Maybe.
And to make things worse, the closer he got to the door, he could hear voices echoing from the other side. Not one or two. A whole mess of them. A tangled murmur—dozens of people talking at once—none of it actually making sense.
"Clan members?"
His eyes went wide. His brain pretty much short-circuited. His knees wobbled, and when he tried to move, nothing happened. His own body betrayed him.
He glared down at his legs. "Move, you cowards. We trained for this."
He waited.
Nothing.
Just then, the voice chimed in with one of its encouraging speeches.
'It's okay to be scared. Remember—fear sharpens you. It strips away the noise and leaves only what matters. Your survival instincts.'
Once again, it shifted its tone. One moment it spewed complete nonsense; the next, it sounded… encouraging. Like it was giving actual advice.
And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't know anything about the voice in his head. Not where it came from. Not what it wanted. The thing was a complete mystery.
Yet it didn't change the trust he had in it. He trusted it—enough to bet his life on it—because, for the first time in his life, he wasn't alone.
He shook his head, pushing his miserable memories aside. The voice's words seemed to do the trick. He stepped forward. Cold sweat ran down his back as he peered through the thin crack in the door.
And instantly, relief washed over him.
There were people—but they weren't from his clan. And it definitely wasn't his father. Still, he didn't recognize any of them.
What he saw made his stomach twist. Scary, yes… but also unsettlingly interesting.
It was a giant serpent.
And fighting it was a group of people.
First, there were two men standing at the front.
One was lean, black-haired, annoyingly good-looking. His armor was trimmed down to the bare minimum, a long sword hanging loose at his side like it weighed nothing.
The other looked like a walking fortress—shaved head shining under the torchlight, armor plates stacked across his huge frame. A shield the size of a door clung to his arm, and a hammer rested across his back like a toy he carried for fun.
In the middle of the group stood a third woman.
She wasn't flawless like the others. A couple of scars lined her face, and instead of ruining her beauty, they sharpened it—made her look real.
And her clothing, he knew that style. It was like his—but hers was fitted, reinforced with light armor, and actually maintained. His was loose, tattered, and filthy. The dark bloodstains were still there. Somehow.
He didn't question it. If he thought about it too hard, the robe would probably turn to dust—and he really didn't feel like standing there naked.
The people in front of him probably wouldn't be too pleased to see that.
And the thing they were fighting wasn't some normal snake.
"Whoa… that's a big snake," he whispered.
'Bit snake?' the voice scoffed. 'That's a basilisk, genius.'
He frowned. "Pretty sure that still counts as a snake."
'Pretty sure you're an idiot,' the voice snapped. 'I told you the legend. The king of serpents? Ringing any bells?'
He shrugged. "You tell me so many stories I can't keep track of. Sometimes I stop listening to your yapping."
Which was a lie.
He remembered everything the voice had taught him—things he wanted to remember forever, and things he wished he could erase. Things like how to properly kiss girls. And other nonsense too embarrassing to even mention.
Apart from its foolery, it was probably a better teacher than his father—or anyone else who'd ever trained him.
At least when he made a mistake here…
He wasn't punished for it.
He sighed, long and tired, and his gaze drifted back to the giant murder noodle.
Its dark purple scales caught the torchlight, gleaming like iron plates. Its coils filled the chamber—every loop thicker than a tree trunk.
Anyone else would've run.
He just stared… and swallowed.
After years of eating snakes to survive, all he could think about was how many meals this monster could make.
Then its voice shook the chamber.
"Leave."
He snorted. "Yeah, can't. So stop screaming at me, genius," he muttered, thinking the voice was being dramatic again.
'Hey! That wasn't me,' it protested, shaken. 'Pretty sure that was the basilisk. Also, you might want to stop mouthing off to giant monsters. Just saying.'
"Leave. Now."
The words rolled through the chamber like thunder. His heart stilled.
'Yup. Definitely the basilisk,' the voice muttered. 'Also, you're not mad. Just… mentally unstable.'
The serpent spoke again.
"Damn you, humans. Leave us alone."
His eyes widened. "A snake that talks… sure. Why not. Add that to the list."
'Basilisk,' the voice corrected.
"Did you say big snake?" he asked, half mocking.
The serpent's voice came out ragged—weak, desperate—and for some reason, he felt bad for it.
It didn't even seem like the giant snake wanted to fight. But the swordsman didn't care. He pressed forward, merciless.
The serpent retaliated. Its tail whipped down like a falling tree.
The shield-man stepped in, taking the blow head-on like it was nothing. Stone cracked beneath his feet, but he didn't flinch. He shoved it back, wearing a cocky smirk.
The assassin didn't hesitate. The moment she saw an opening, she vanished, then reappeared midair. Her dagger drove straight into the serpent's eye.
The beast shrieked, thrashing so violently the torches on the walls flickered.
"Leave us alone!" the serpent cried, its voice breaking.
The swordsman barked, "Boost me!"
The woman in white raised her hand. Blue light wrapped around him, his frame swelling, his sword blazing until it burned like fire itself.
The serpent's tail whipped around, then came crashing down harder than last time.
The shield-man braced himself again and blocked it without even raising his shield, boots digging into the stone.
This time, he didn't just stop the blow. He grabbed hold of the tail. The serpent thrashed, struggling to pull itself free.
The robed mage lifted her staff. Blue light swelled at the tip until a sphere formed, almost like a miniature sun.
Then… she hurled it.
The fireball slammed into the serpent's skull and exploded. Flames crawled across its scales as the monster shrieked. The sound rattled Shiro's bones and sent sparks raining down from the ceiling.
The beast bled. Its skin scorched. Its once-beautiful scales ruined. It begged.
But the swordsman didn't care. Didn't even hesitate.
Shiro couldn't just stand there and watch. He was ready to jump in and help. But before his foot touched stone, the voice in his head shifted again, calm and firm.
'Not yet, Shiro.'
It didn't take him long to figure out why.
Blue light flared around the swordsman, spilling across the chamber.
He vaulted high, his blade swelling brighter until it burned like a star. He paused midair for a second, then, with a cocky smirk, brought it down in a single, brutal, almost beautiful strike.
The sword ripped through scale and flesh like paper.
The serpent was cleanly split in half.
Its body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The wall behind it now carried a brand-new jagged scar. Proof of their strength.
As the serpent's eyes slowly closed, a hidden passage opened at the far end of the chamber. Spiral-like stairs sank deeper into the dark.
The five hunters grinned wildly, eyes bright with savage excitement, laughter echoing as they vanished below.
Once he couldn't hear their ugly laughter anymore, Shiro moved closer to the corpse, guilt twisting in his stomach. The serpent's split head lay still, eyes dull.
He stared at the damage on the wall. If he had jumped in to help, they would've just cut him in half too. And considering he was already short…
He rested his hand against its head. A silent apology he wished he'd acted on sooner.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Just then, the serpent's belly lit up. Or, well, blinked. Like it was trying to get his attention.
And it worked.
He moved to its belly, plunged his rusted sword in, and sliced along the scales until something rolled free.
He squinted.
It was bright. Like, I-might-lose-my-eyeballs bright.
He squinted again, then slowly opened his eyes all the way.
There on the ground…
…was an egg.
It was pinkish-white, warm to the touch, somewhat heavy. He could feel something moving inside, brushing against the shell.
'That looks delicious. Dibs.'
"No," he muttered. "Not food."
A sick feeling crawled up his throat, tightening his insides. She hadn't been fighting out of rage.
She'd been protecting her child.
"She was trying to protect this."
He raised the egg toward the nearest torch. Warm light slid across the shell, revealing a faint shape curled up inside. A moment later, it uncurled and shifted toward him, staring at Shiro through the shell.
"What are you doing here?"
"And how exactly did you get here?"
He was so focused on the egg that he didn't notice the hunters returning until someone barked behind him.
He yelped, his heart almost bursting out of his chest. The egg slipped from his hands and hit the floor.
'Great. You had it for ten seconds and you already killed it.'
He forced himself to look down.
To his relief, the egg was perfectly fine. Untouched.
The floor beneath it wasn't.
A spiderweb of cracks spread outward from where it had landed.
He scrambled to scoop it up, slipped it into his robe, and pretended nothing had happened.
That didn't work.
The assassin's eyes were too sharp. She noticed instantly.
"I think he found something," she said.
Shiro pressed his hip with his thumb, but the voice stopped him.
'Shiro. Not yet. Trust me. You don't need to.'
Shiro hesitated for a moment.