NOVPUBKain's fingers scraped against crumbling stone as he slid backward toward the acid. His leg screamed where it had struck the platform's edge, his other leg already dangling over the bubbling flood. Above him, Soreia stood motionless, her white eyes unreadable.
Several heartbeats passed that felt like an eternity.
In the first, Kain's free hand found the obsidian dagger still strapped to his belt—its edge gleaming with unnatural sharpness. He couldn't stab downward into the stone for purchase, it was too strong. But a pitiful part of him wanted to try stabbing into her— to take her down with him. Unfortunately, the angle was wrong.
In the second heartbeat, the acid's heat could be clearly felt searing through the remnants of his boots. The Pathstone's protection had faded entirely. One slip, and he'd dissolve like sugar in tea.
In the third heartbeat, Soreia's hand twitched toward her own personal dagger at her hip.
'Was she going to stab my hand so that I would fall from the pain? Kick me over?'
Kain replayed a similar situation between lion brothers in one of his favourite cartoon movies as a child. At the very least, in his final moments, he doesn't want to focus on something as depressing as his own betrayal. A cartoon as his last memory was much better.
A fourth heartbeat. A fifth. Time stretched. Kain felt his weight shift—his fingers slipping further across damp stone. He gritted his teeth.
This was it.
His grip slipped another inch. The acid hissed beneath him like it was hungry.
She moved.
Her hand clamped around his wrist, hauling him up with strength that didn't seem suitable coming from someone of her size.
They collapsed together on the platform. Kain wheezed through gritted teeth. His back burned. His shin throbbed. But he was alive. Just barely.
Soreia's hand clamped around his wrist. She hauled him up with surprising strength, her fingers icy even through the heat.
They collapsed onto solid ground, the acid crashing harmlessly against the platform's base. The exit archway loomed ahead, untouched by the flood.
Kain sucked in air, his heart hammering. "...Thanks."
Soreia released him and stood. "Don't mention it."
The next chamber was mercifully dry.
Cool, still air greeted them as they passed through the archway. The walls here were smooth, carved with intricate murals of dragons coiled around towering spires. At the room's center stood a pedestal—and atop it, a single, unlit brazier.
The relic's voice echoed:
[Congratulations. You have arrived at your destination.]
'Is that it? Did we pass the trial?'
Unfortunately, the relic made no follow-up statements—indicating that the terrifying acid chase was simply the appetizer, not the main dish.
Kain exhaled, shoulders slumping. His legs trembled with exhaustion. He looked completely dishevelled, his boots nearly completely dissolved and holes eaten through his clothing where acid had splashed on him. Soreia, meanwhile, looked relatively composed, maybe just a little tired as a faint sheen of sweat glistened at her temples.
Then the voice continued:
[Proceed]
A section of the wall slid open, revealing a narrow staircase spiralling upward into shadow.
Kain groaned. "Of course there's more."
Soreia was already moving. "The faster we finish, the faster we're out."
He hesitated. "You do realize the next trial might require actual teamwork, right? You took your sweet time helping me back there."
She paused at the base of the stairs, her back to him. "I'm aware."
"And you're not planning to stab me the second it's convenient?"
For the first time, she half-turned, her white eyes glinting. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be a pool of acidic sludge right now."
Kain couldn't argue with that.
He adjusted his grip on the dagger—still unused, still sharp—and followed her up the stairs.
The air grew colder as they climbed. The steps were uneven, worn smooth by time, and the higher they went, the more the walls seemed to breathe—shifting subtly, as if alive.
Then, at the top:
A door.
Not stone, not metal. Flesh.
Pale and veined, it pulsed faintly, a seam running down its center like a barely closed wound.
Soreia reached out—
—and the door shuddered, recoiling from her touch like a living thing. The seam down its center split wider, revealing a yawning darkness beyond. A cold, metallic scent wafted out—blood.
Kain tightened his grip on the dagger. The blade hummed faintly in his palm, as if resonating with whatever lay ahead.
He exchanged a glance with her. For once, she didn't look calm—just focused. Alert.
They moved forward together.
Soreia stepped through the creepy door without hesitation.
The moment Kain crossed the threshold, the fleshy door sealed behind them with a wet, sucking sound. The darkness was absolute—until, with a sudden click, twin braziers flared to life on either side of the room.
The chamber was circular, its walls lined with unsettling paintings of creatures half-dragon, half-human in various states. Some were frolicking happily, others going about an ordinary day, while other had their mouths stretched in silent screams as black creatures with red eyes were depicted eating their flesh.
'Are those…Abyssal creatures?'
At the center stood an altar of black stone, its surface etched with the same dragon-scale pattern as Kain's dagger.
And on the altar lay a single object:
A heart.
Not quite human. Not quite beast. It pulsed with a slow, sickly light, veins threading through it like molten gold.
A beat of silence passed as they tried to figure out what to do next. The heart pulsed faster, its light throbbing in time with Kain's own heartbeat.
Then—
A drip.
Something wet hit Kain's shoulder. He looked up.
The ceiling was bleeding.
Thick, crimson droplets welled from the stone, gathering into rivulets that snaked toward the carvings. As the blood touched them, the 2D dragon-human hybrids depicted in the paintings began to take on a more vibrant tone. Kain could even swear that he could see their painted faces twitch—almost as if they were coming to life.
The relic's voice again, containing almost a teasing tone:
[Time is a fickle thing. Make sure like those depicted, you don't get lost in it.]
