The world went dark in an instant.
No wind. No light. Nothing, except the ragged breaths of those who had just witnessed the sun's disappearance. The canyon—an immense chasm of stone and dust—had turned into a bottomless tomb. The suffocating heat of the day was gone, replaced by a dry cold that bit down to the bone.
Anabelle conjured a sphere of mana in her palm. The glow flickered—pale, uncertain.
Lucas swore under his breath; Valentin grumbled something unintelligible. Eden, meanwhile, stood still, his eyes locked on the darkness.
At first, there was only silence. Then a breath. Faint, warm. A wind that smelled of stone and… blood.
He stepped forward, holding out the mana torch. The bluish light barely reached three meters ahead, revealing only the jagged edges of the canyon. The trembling beam slid over the rock… and stopped.
Something moved.
Shapes clung to the walls—massive, hunched bodies half hidden in shadow. Their limbs looked disjointed, their heads too heavy for their thin necks. Yet they hung there, motionless, suspended like gigantic puppets.
Eden's gut twisted. Eyes opened in the dark—dozens, maybe hundreds of them. Wide pupils, yellow and wet, reflecting the glow of his torch. No cries. No attack. Just the eerie sense that they were… watching.
— "What the hell are those freaks doing?" growled Valentin, hand tightening around his shield.
Eeden didn't answer right away. He swallowed hard, fingers clenched around the handle.
— "They…" His voice faltered in the wind before returning, hoarse. "They're watching us."
Lucas turned toward him, frowning.
— "What did you say?"
— "They're watching us," he repeated, without looking away from the cliff.
Silence. Lucas shrugged, annoyed.
— "Tch. You're imagining things. They're just disoriented by the dark."
Anabelle spoke softly, almost to herself:
— "Or maybe they're waiting for something."
No one replied.
The wind had gone still again. The canyon itself seemed to hold its breath. Eden looked up. The sky was pitch black—no moon, no stars, no horizon. Just pure void.
Deep inside, a familiar sensation surfaced—a feeling he had learned to recognize after crossing so many portals. That instinct of being watched, but not by living eyes.
A shiver ran down his spine. Something's wrong here… It's not the night. It's something else.
He inhaled slowly, trying to calm the tremor in his hands. But the silence grew thicker, heavier—the kind that always came before disaster.
A rumble rose from the depths of the canyon.
It wasn't a monster's roar or a rockslide. It was something else—deeper, more organic, almost… alive. The ground vibrated beneath their feet in slow, rhythmic pulses, like a heart buried in the stone.
Eden stopped, frowning. He could swear the earth was beating. A heartbeat… yes, a goddamn heartbeat.
He raised his eyes toward the cliffs.
The walls were oozing with dark moisture, and on the ledges, the corpses of the creatures that had fallen earlier still twitched, hooked by broken claws or teeth embedded in the rock. Some stirred faintly, as if touched by an unseen breath. Others… crawled. Slowly. Dragging themselves on their bellies, trying to bite, to tear, to devour each other.
A silent carnage.
And the temperature—it was dropping too fast.
— "That's not normal," murmured Anabelle.
Her voice trembled, thin, nearly swallowed by the air.
Lucas spoke louder, as if to chase away the unease:
— "Nothing's normal in a dungeon. You should know that by now."
— "No, this…" she shook her head. "This is different. It's not a cycle. It's a breakdown."
Valentin gave a short, nervous laugh.
— "What are you now, a weather mage?"
Eden closed his eyes for a second. The urge to break his nose flickered through him—an oddly comforting reflex. He opened them again, voice steady.
— "You can joke later. Right now, move. We need to find shelter before—"
He stopped.
A new gust swept through the canyon. Stronger. Hotter—a wave of pressure that made the dust crackle.
A red glow began to seep through the cliffs, faint at first, almost invisible, then growing brighter—like the world itself had started to bleed.
Eden froze. Breath shallow, he lifted his eyes to the sky. Beyond the black veil that had swallowed the sun, a crimson sphere was slowly emerging, rising over the horizon. It wasn't a reflection. Not an illusion. A third star—huge, blood-red—was climbing in absolute silence.
The air grew heavy. Every breath became an effort. Mana thickened, almost liquid. The light shifted to purple, turning the canyon's dust into a burning sea. Shadows stretched, distorted—as if reality itself was melting.
— "What the hell is this now?!" shouted Valentin, voice cracking with fear.
Anabelle, transfixed, whispered almost to herself:
— "It looks like… a new phase."
Phase?
Eden closed his eyes, piecing it together. The images came rushing back: the first mural—a hollow sun, an empty circle of light. The second—a darkened disk, filled with black matter. The third—broken: silhouettes in water, blurred forms, and at the center, an empty space where another sun should have been.
A third star. Red.
The missing piece.
Everything clicked—the murals, the tremors, the pulsing wind. This world didn't follow seasons. It followed eclipses. Each sun marked the end of an era. And theirs had just begun.
— "Holy shit…" he breathed, pale, as the wind howled through the canyon again. Dust clawed at his face, but he didn't blink. His gaze stayed locked on the sky, on that rising red star.
He clenched his fists, breath ragged.
— "We're not in a simple dungeon," he said in a low, rough voice. "We're inside some kind of prophecy."
Lucas turned toward him, exasperated, forcing a strained, mocking grin.
— "Oh, great. Here he goes again with his crazy theories."
Eden spun around, eyes wild.
— "Crazy? Look around you, idiot! You think this is what—a weather glitch?!"
He took a step forward, pointing at the sky, his voice breaking under the weight of fear and fury.
— "The sun went out, another one's been born, the ground's beating like a heart, the wind's pulsing—and you still think it's coincidence?!"
Lucas opened his mouth, but the ground shook before he could speak. A deep, visceral rumble tore through the canyon. The cliffs quivered like tightened strings. Dust rose in thick clouds, swirling into red columns under the dying light.
Eden stepped back, eyes fixed on the cliffside. A thin crack snaked across the rock, zigzagging through the ground before splitting into a web of glowing red veins. They looked like nerves—living arteries of light.
A sharp crack echoed. Then another. All around them, the earth split further.
The sky turned red. The world itself began to fracture.
The first scream tore through the air so violently it felt like it came from the world's core.
A beast's howl—hoarse, raw, ripped from a throat being cut—and then another, and another. Within seconds, the canyon became a cacophony of voices. The echoes bounced along the walls, amplified by the stone until they merged into one monstrous roar.
Eden froze.
The ground quaked beneath his boots. Rocks broke loose from above, crashing in dry showers. On the walls, the creatures they had seen before were now thrashing wildly—climbing, biting each other, ripping flesh, shrieking until their throats tore apart.
And the wind… the wind was no longer a breath. It was a scream.
A colossal howl rising from the canyon's depths, shaking both air and soul. It cut through Eden like a blade. His gut clenched, breath quickened. No. Not a scream. An alarm.
Dust swirled around them—red, liquid-like under the crimson star's light. Eden staggered back, eyes wide, as the cliffs trembled, the whole world seeming ready to collapse. Then the image struck him—the third mural: water. The only element missing.
Without thinking, he shouted:
— "CLIMB! NOW!"
His voice vanished in the storm; he screamed louder, his throat tearing.
— "UP THE WALLS! CLIMB, DAMMIT!"
Valentin barked a dry, hysterical laugh.
— "He's lost it! Climb where, you psycho?!"
Eden shot him a glare that could burn. Fear blazed naked in his eyes.
— "MOVE YOUR ASS OR YOU'RE DEAD!"
The tank froze for a heartbeat, torn between mocking and obeying. Lucas stepped back, hand clutching his sword, too stunned to react. Anabelle saw Eden's face—the kind of expression fear could never fake.
Without a word, she raised her hand. Her fingers glowed orange, shaping fleeting holds in the rock, glowing like embers.
— "Alright," she said simply, and pulled herself up the wall.
Eden followed at once. His boots scraped the stone, his fingers dug into rough cracks. Every move tore his skin raw. The wind screamed in their ears, carrying blades of sand.
He climbed, gasping, feeling the wall vibrate beneath his palms. His heartbeat drowned out the chaos. Higher. Keep going. If I stay down there, I die. If I fall, I die. So climb. Climb.
A rush of hot, humid air rose from below—alive, almost breathing. Then came the roar. Not a scream. A liquid roar. A mass of raw energy that wanted to swallow everything.
Anabelle, clinging a few meters above, panted:
— "Eden… what the hell is that?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed downward, on the shifting dark between the cliffs.
— "It's not the wind," he said at last, voice tight and low.
Then he saw it.
In the dark, a silver glow split the void. Thin at first, like a vein of light—then widening. Wider. Until it filled the canyon floor with a ghostly gleam.
A liquid surface, alive, spreading fast.
The silver line swelled, lifted, took form. Became a wave. A monstrous, black-and-red wave rising at terrifying speed, devouring everything.
The light of the third star glinted across it like on a bloodstained blade.
Eden's stomach twisted.
— "No… no, no, no…"
— "HOLY SHIT, IT'S WATER!" screamed Anabelle.
Her voice vanished in the roar that followed—the kind that swallowed sound, breath, thought. Eden's heart hammered against his ribs.
— "LUCAS! VALENTIN! MOVE! CLIMB, DAMMIT!"
Below, Lucas finally looked up. His face was white, eyes wide, frozen in disbelief. Valentin cursed.
— "No way…"
He tried to climb—too late.
The sound hit first—an ocean's roar, a world-ending crash. The wind slammed against Eden's skin like a whip.
Then the wave appeared.
A colossal mass, thick, twisted, streaked with red, rose through the canyon like a furious beast ready to devour the mountains. The cliffs shuddered, stone cracking apart.
Not now. Not like this.
Eden climbed harder, fingers bleeding. Anabelle screamed his name, but he couldn't hear her anymore. The rumble filled everything.
Anabelle pulled herself onto the ledge, crouched there, chest heaving, fingers white around the rock's edge. She turned, reaching for him.
— "Eden! You're almost there! Take my hand!"
He looked up at her, arms shaking, heart pounding.
— "A little more… just a little…" he breathed.
Beneath them, the canyon shuddered; a scream tore through the air. Eden glanced down.
The wave was crashing. In that chaos, two shapes still climbed—Valentin and Lucas. The tank pulled himself up, grunting with every hold, while Lucas, lower down, fought against gravity and wind.
They wouldn't make it. Not in time.
The wave was too fast.
Valentin turned, eyes wide with horror.
— "It's over!"
Lucas, below him, suddenly raised his hand, face contorted with effort.
— "Not yet."
He grabbed his companion's leg, channeling mana through his arm. A blue spark flared, humming through the chaos.
— "Impulse Transfer!"
The spell detonated between them. Lucas redirected the force of Valentin's fall into himself—the shockwave launched the tank upward like a bolt. Valentin was ripped from the wall, swallowed by the wave.
Eden barely saw the body hit the red water. A blink—then nothing. Valentin vanished without a sound.
Lucas slammed against the ledge, caught it by sheer luck, rolled onto the rock, gasping. Anabelle, stunned, saw him appear beside her.
— "Lucas?!"
He lifted his head, drenched in sweat, eyes hollow.
— "Valentin's dead…" he whispered, voice cracking.
Eden kept climbing. Almost there. Just a few more meters. His arms trembled, his vision blurred—but he pushed on. One last effort.
— "Eden!" Anabelle shouted, kneeling at the edge, reaching down. "Give me your hand!"
He hooked his fingers around a jagged rock, pulled with everything he had, and reached for her.
The stone groaned.
A dry sound.
Crack.
Eden looked down in horror. The hold was splitting—slowly, relentlessly.
— "No… no, no, no!"
— "Eden, take my hand, please!" screamed Anabelle, arm stretched over the void.
Their fingers were inches apart. Their eyes met—for a heartbeat, suspended in chaos.
The rock gave way.
Everything broke.
The world flipped upside down in a blur of water and light. Eden felt his body fall, the wind slashing his face, Anabelle's scream echoing above.
A single thought crossed his mind—cold, bitter, almost resigned.
Luck: -1.
The next instant, the water swallowed him whole.
A brutal impact. Deafening. Red light burst across his vision.
Then everything disappeared.
Silence.
Darkness.
Nothing.