Once teleported, Thorian found himself immersed in the subtle glow of a dimly-lit chamber. Its only sources of illumination were twin lamps suspended from the ceiling, each housing a controlled and persistent electrical discharge. They cast a sapphire glow, enveloping the room's woodwork with an ethereal radiance.

The space bore more resemblance to a grand library than a traditional dwelling. A labyrinth of towering shelves filled every conceivable space, a testament to the room's intellectual dominance. They were laden with heavy, leather-bound volumes and tightly wound scrolls, a trove of knowledge hidden in the semi-darkness. The gloomy lighting made it impossible for Thorian to discern the writings clearly, but one thing was apparent – the script was unlike any he had encountered before.

Navigating the intricate maze of shelves, Thorian spotted a robed figure seated at a desk. The man's quill darted across a scroll in fluid strokes, absorbed in his task. Despite the protesting creaks of the wooden floor announcing Thorian's approach, the figure remained oblivious, engrossed in his work.

It’s been a while since I haven’t seen you, Tza’har.

Opting against an immediate assault, Thorian leaned against a shelf, his muscular back pressing into the worn wood. He scrutinized the man, tracing the rhythmic dance of the quill over the aged parchment. Upon closer inspection, Thorian realized a grotesque truth; the hand guiding the pen was devoid of any flesh. It was a mere skeletal structure.

Minutes passed before the man ceased his writing, shoving the scrolls to one side. As he rose to his full height, Thorian caught sight of his horrifying form. The man was not a man at all; he was an animated skeletal being, an undead.

“A monster entering this lair? The gods didn't forewarn me of such an occurrence," Tza'har commented, a note of intrigue lacing his words. Despite the lack of facial flesh, the tone of Tza'har's voice allowed Thorian to infer the expression he might have worn had he been alive.

"And why do you refrain from attacking, kobold?" the robed undead jibed as he ambled towards Thorian. "By now, you must grasp the rules of the game. Slay me, and you shall gain power unparalleled in your race's history. You would ascend as the deity of all kobolds across the myriad realms!"

Thorian listened to Tza'har's audacious proposition, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Killing you? An Archmagus? Give me a break.

Noting Thorian's silence, Tza'har responded with a surprised chuckle. "Intriguing. You've chosen not to kill me? Then what brings you to this place?" he queried.

"I have come to attempt the sacred trial," Thorian retorted, maintaining his stoic demeanor. "Are you to be my guide, as per tradition?"

“It seems like this is not your first time,” Tza'har observed, lapsing into a brief silence. “However, this is but the first layer. Interesting…”

After a moment of quiet consideration, the robed specter nodded, "Very well, I shall fulfill my role as your guide. Come with me."

Thorian's face broke into a rare smile, trailing after Tza'har as they plunged back into the warren of book-laden shelves. Arriving at a particular shelf, the undead master extracted a book, triggering a hidden mechanism. The entire construct groaned and shifted, revealing a shimmering wall of blue stone behind the wooden framework. Once the movement ceased, an aperture opened, revealing a descending staircase, bathed in the same ethereal blue light that filled the room they were in.

Without a word, Tza'har proceeded down the steps. Thorian followed suit, and they navigated the staircase in mutual silence for several minutes before reaching its base. Shadowing the undead mage, Thorian emerged into an expansive arena.

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The structure echoed the coliseums Thorian had seen in the capital. Its heart was a broad expanse intended for combat, encircled by seating stands hewn from massive, dark blue stones. They were devoid of spectators, their monochrome hue appearing even more striking in the absence of a crowd.

"Forgive the lack of aesthetics," Tza'har commented, intuiting Thorian's thoughts. "The materials to construct a floating island are few, and there simply isn't sufficient wood to furnish all these stands. At least, not anymore."

"The supplies ran out?" Thorian queried, feigning curiosity.

Tza'har turned his skull towards Thorian, his face incapable of expression. "It's an old tale. I doubt it would captivate you," he responded.

The skeletal mage then stepped aside, gesturing Thorian towards the arena's heart. "Shall we start your sacred trial as per your request?"

"Immediately," Thorian agreed, nodding before following Tza’har’s direction and making his way towards the center of the arena.

"Your trial is straightforward. You must confront and vanquish the Thunderbird," Tza’har elucidated. "If you succeed, you will gain three rewards tailored to your needs. However, if you fail, that would mean you have died."

"Simple rules indeed," Thorian responded. "Let's get started then."

In acknowledgment, Tza’har transported himself to the stands, conjuring a magical circle hovering above his skeletal hand. Simultaneously, a larger, more potent circle of magic spun into existence before Thorian on the ground. The space within the circle swiftly darkened to an impenetrable black, from which a gargantuan blue bird emerged, its shriek piercing the silence.

The instant the Thunderbird materialized, Thorian initiated the attack with his first spell. The surrounding air bristled with a biting chill as a volley of tiny frost orbs pelted the colossal avian. Its electric wings spasmed in distress as it shrieked in response to the onslaught.

Unwilling to allow the beast any opportunity to demonstrate its abilities, Thorian promptly followed up his initial spell with a Dust Devil. The gritty vortex scooped up the formidable bird, filling its whirling confines with dirt and debris.

Yet, even within the swirling Dust Devil, the Thunderbird managed to conjure a spell in blind fury. A bolt of electricity formed at the tip of its beak, a signal of the impending devastating attack.

Recognizing that he had a narrow window to evade the lightning-speed strike, Thorian rapidly summoned two protective spells in succession. Sturdy entangling roots sprouted from the ground, enveloping him in a wooden dome. In tandem, he manifested a molten shield in front of him.

Before Thorian could even perceive the peal of thunder, a bolt of lightning penetrated his wooden dome and struck his molten shield, sending him staggering backward. The concussive shockwave from the lightning and the resonating impact against his shield all but deafened him.

Gazing through the settling debris and dust, Thorian observed that the Thunderbird had narrowly extricated itself from his Dust Devil's grip. The creature bore a smug expression, presuming it now held the upper hand.

Thorian's eyes frosted over at the sight of the beast's triumphant visage. With a forceful swipe of his hand, he summoned one of his most potent spells: Wind Tornado.

The air around the Thunderbird abruptly shifted direction. Taking in its surroundings, the avian quickly realized the severity of its predicament. The scale of this new spell far exceeded that of the previous Dust Devil that had already caused it considerable distress.

Grasping the grave danger it faced, the Thunderbird issued a desperate squawk, attempting to flee from the rapidly expanding danger zone. Regrettably for it, escape was futile. The winds accelerated to a blistering pace, morphing into a colossal vortex that stripped the creature of all bodily control.

As the Wind Tornado firmly ensnared the Thunderbird within its metaphorical claws, Thorian sealed the beast's fate.

Fire Pillar.

Flames roared, engulfing half the arena as a seething tornado of fire swallowed the Thunderbird whole. The giant blue creature lacked even a moment to shriek in agony or writhe in despair as the infernal conflagration incinerated it entirely.

Even Thorian, at a considerable distance and bearing elemental resistance, found himself forced back by the blazing gusts and the intensity of the heat. He hastily retreated further from the fiery vortex upon noticing the tips of his fur singeing from the scorching heat.

Congratulations! You have slain the first layer’s Hidden Boss: Thunderbird.

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