Chapter 39: Footsteps of Fear

The recruits moved silently through the mossy tunnel, the air around them thick with unease. Each step echoed faintly off the damp walls, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the oppressive darkness. No one spoke, their fear palpable. The memory of the strange room they had fallen into still haunted their thoughts, but the tunnel they now traversed was no less eerie. It felt alive, as though the walls themselves were watching them.

The seven recruits walked close together, their nerves taut, as if at any moment something might lunge from the shadows. The tunnel twisted and turned, the air growing heavier the farther they ventured. They couldn’t tell which was worse—the suffocating darkness of the tunnel or the unsettling unknown waiting for them at its end.

After what seemed like an eternity, they came upon another half-opened ancient gate, its stone surface cracked and weathered by time. A warm breeze seeped through the narrow opening, brushing against their skin like the breath of some hidden entity. It carried with it the faint scent of burning wood, making the recruits exchange uneasy glances. The warm air and dim light emanating from beyond the gate offered a sliver of hope, but the strangeness of it sent a shiver through Abel’s spine.

They exchanged hesitant looks but moved forward, pushing the gate open with a groan. As they stepped into the room, their breaths caught in their throats.

It was a large, grand chamber, far bigger than they had anticipated. Extravagant furniture, much too elegant for such an ancient place, was scattered around the room. A richly adorned rug covered the stone floor, and shelves lined the walls, their surfaces filled with old, rotting trinkets. But what froze them in place wasn’t the furniture—it was the lit fireplace. The flames crackled softly, casting a warm glow that seemed entirely out of place in this cold, eerie environment. Several lanterns flickered along the walls, their soft light adding to the unease.

The recruits exchanged horrified glances. This place was ancient, lost to time. So why was there a fire burning? Who had lit it? The very thought sent a wave of fear through them.

"This... this place is alive," whispered Gato, a short and stocky boy with wide eyes. He clutched his pack tightly, glancing around the room with mounting panic. "Maybe it's a vengeful ghost or another horror—except this time we're underground."

His words echoed in the silence, the suggestion hanging ominously in the air. Alisa, the girl with the glowing stick, clutched it closer to her chest as though it might ward off whatever haunted this place. Her voice, barely above a murmur, trembled as she offered, “M-maybe it’s a fellow apostle from a different tower. Maybe... they’re not dangerous.”

Lorne, standing tall with his arms crossed, shook his head gravely. “This is Stone Tower territory. No one should be here, no other apostles from other towers. Whoever lit these fires, they're not from the outside.”

The silence stretched on, their fear thickening as they slowly absorbed the situation. The crackling of the fire became almost sinister, the warmth of the room suddenly suffocating. It felt wrong—an ancient place, half destroyed by time, should not have a fire burning. The very thought chilled them to their bones. They looked around and decided to see if they could find an exit.

The recruits moved deeper into the strange, haunting place, their steps cautious as the unsettling atmosphere of the ancient ruin pressed down on them. The crackling of the distant fire in the room behind them had unnerved them, but what lay ahead seemed no more inviting. Every shadow in the long corridors seemed to move, twisting and curling in ways that defied the flickering light of the lantern Alisa held.

Abel’s breath hitched as they entered a new chamber, larger than the previous ones. His heart sank at what he saw—a collection of grotesque, bizarre taxidermy creatures mounted on stone pedestals. They were twisted, unnatural things that defied explanation, a mockery of nature's laws. The closest one was a chimera-like creature with the body of a lion, but where its mane should have been, there was the head of an owl, its large, unblinking eyes forever staring into nothingness. Its wings, jagged and uneven, jutted out awkwardly from its back, as if sewn on by a madman.

The recruits recoiled in disgust. Gato, his face pale, muttered, "These can’t be real... these things…"

Sena shook his head, eyes wide as he stared at another creature, an abomination that looked like a dog with the torso of a snake and the legs of a human. The stitching around the joints was crude, almost haphazard, as if whoever had crafted it didn’t care about making it functional—only about creating something horrifying.

Abel couldn’t tear his eyes away from the morbid display. "What is this place?" he whispered, his voice trembling. His hand unconsciously brushed the hilt of his dagger, the only comfort he had in the nightmare they were now walking through.

"This isn't just an old ruin. This is... a laboratory," Alisa said quietly, her voice shaking. "Whoever was here wasn’t just experimenting with magic. They were experimenting with life itself."

They skirted around the taxidermy creatures, making sure not to get too close to any of the abominations. Each step was slow, deliberate, as if any sudden movement might bring the grotesque things to life. Abel could feel the tension in the air, as if the room itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.

Finally, they reached the far side of the chamber, and to their relief, a doorway led them out of the macabre display. They entered another, smaller room, the air slightly cooler but no less unsettling. The walls here were bare, save for a single large painting that hung in the center of the back wall. The painting’s frame was ornate, gilded with gold, and seemed out of place amidst the ruin and decay surrounding them.

"Let's... just keep moving," Abel suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to look at the painting, and yet, as if by some unseen force, his gaze was drawn to it. The others hesitated, but one by one, their eyes fell upon the painting as well.

It was grotesque—a depiction of a man with two heads, each face twisted in a permanent expression of agony. The body was disturbingly small, that of a toddler, but the arms were long and muscular, the hands almost grotesquely oversized. The creature in the painting stood upright, its two heads watching in opposite directions, and the background behind it was an indistinct swirl of dark colors, as though the very canvas itself was alive with movement.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The recruits stared, frozen in place, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. Abel took a step forward, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“Thank the gods,” Sena muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought—”

The painting shook violently, cutting Sena off mid-sentence. The recruits jumped back in alarm, their hands flying to their weapons. Abel's heart leaped into his throat as he watched the canvas ripple, the figure in the painting twitching as though it were struggling to break free from its confines.

And then, to their horror, the creature began to emerge.

With a sickening slurp, the two-headed abomination crawled out of the painting, its bloated, grotesque form wriggling as if it were being birthed from the very canvas itself. It flopped onto the stone floor with a wet thud, its oversized hands scrabbling against the ground as it tried to find its footing. One of its heads twisted unnaturally, locking its gaze onto the recruits. Its eyes were filled with fear, as though it were just as confused by its sudden freedom as they were.

The recruits stood frozen, their weapons drawn but unsure of what to do. Abel felt the cold sweat trickling down his spine, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The creature scrambled to its feet with awkward, jerky movements, its heads swiveling erratically as it took in the group of recruits. Then, without warning, it turned and bolted for a door at the far end of the room, its heavy footsteps echoing as it fled into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of strange, dark liquid that oozed from its malformed body.

“What... the hell was that?” Abel gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gato, ever the curious one, cautiously approached the spot where the creature had fallen. A puddle of the dark liquid had formed on the ground, viscous and thick, almost like tar. Without hesitation, Gato reached into his robe and pulled out a small jar.

“What are you doing?” Sena hissed, still shaken by the bizarre encounter.

“This could be useful,” Gato replied calmly, crouching down to fill the jar with the strange substance. The others watched in disbelief as he carefully sealed the jar and tucked it back into his robe.

“We just saw something crawl out of a painting, and you want to take a sample of that... that goo?” Alisa asked, her voice incredulous.

“Knowledge and curiosity are power,” Gato muttered, standing up and brushing his hands off. “I have a feeling this place holds more secrets than we can even imagine.”

Abel shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering unease. “Let’s just keep moving. We need to figure out what’s going on here.”

They continued their exploration, moving through narrow corridors and passing through rooms filled with strange objects and abandoned experiments until they reached the initial fireplace toom they had first encountered. The air grew colder, and the silence became heavier, as if the ruin itself were watching them, waiting for something to happen.

And then they heard it—a sound that sent a chill down their spines. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, coming from somewhere deeper within the ruin.

The recruits froze, their hearts pounding in unison. The footsteps grew louder, echoing through the stone halls, until it sounded like they were right behind them.

Abel’s breath hitched as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching the darkness for the source of the sound. “Something’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And then, as if on cue, the footsteps stopped, plunging them into an eerie, suffocating silence.

Lorne, standing tall with his arms crossed, shook his head gravely. “This is Stone Tower territory. No one should be here, no other apostles from other towers. Whoever lit these fires, they’re not from the outside.”

The recruits exchanged fearful glances, their imaginations running wild. Whatever had been lurking in the shadows was closer than ever, and now, they knew they were not alone in this strange, twisted place.

As they stood frozen, trying to comprehend the situation, a sound broke through the silence. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, coming from the depths of the room. They were soft at first, but the unmistakable sound of boots against stone echoed louder with each step.

Abel’s heart raced. His body froze, fear coursing through his veins like ice. Without a word, the recruits scattered, hiding behind whatever they could find. Abel ducked behind a large, ornate chair, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Lorne slipped into the shadow of a massive bookshelf, his eyes wide and frantic. Gato clung to the side of the fireplace, trying to make himself as small as possible. Alisa crouched behind a fallen pillar, her glowing stick dimmed under the cover of her cloak.

The footsteps grew closer, each one a thunderous beat in the stillness of the room. Whoever—or whatever—was approaching, the recruits prayed it wouldn’t see them.

…

Meanwhile, back at the Stone Tower, Isabella was walking away from the task office, her mind on her next task. She was tired but determined to keep herself busy. As she moved towards the stairs leading to her quarters, a commanding voice echoed through the hall, catching her attention.

"I seek the Overseer," the voice demanded.

Isabella turned and saw Gloomeyes standing tall and fierce at the center of the hall. Her deep blue hair flowed down her back, matching the ferocity in her piercing eyes. She carried her tribal axe strapped across her back, the sheer presence of it making Isabella’s pulse quicken. Gloomeyes looked like a force of nature, her muscular shoulders squared as she waited with an air of quiet confidence.

The Overseer, sensing her arrival, made his way towards her. "Are you ready to ascend the tower?" he asked, his voice calm but authoritative.

Gloomeyes nodded, her eyes flashing with determination. "Yes," she said, her voice like a low growl. "I am ready."

The Overseer nodded slightly, then asked, "Show me proof of your readiness."

Without hesitation, Gloomeyes planted her feet firmly, squatting slightly as she spread her stance. The air around her seemed to warp and distort, and suddenly, a powerful heat erupted from her body. Flames roared to life, swirling around her form like a living inferno. The air crackled with raw energy as the flames danced around her, but just as suddenly, a strange black hue bled into the fire. The black flames mingled with the red, creating an otherworldly display of power and danger. The heat was intense, but the darkness within it made it feel cold, and eerie, as if the fire itself was sentient. Then a whirlpool of flames which contained streaks of black appeared above her, sending heat all around and causing the nearby recruits to step back.

The Overseer watched, impressed, his gaze lingering on the black flames as they intensified. He nodded slowly, his respect clear. "So, you've mastered the berserk transformation from the knowledge book you found. That’s no easy feat, especially for someone of your level. You’ve become proficient in harnessing the power within and created your own mana pool. I’m impressed by your control—both over the fire and the darkness."

Gloomeyes extinguished the flames, the heat dissipating into the air as quickly as it had come. She gave a curt nod and began her ascent. Isabella, standing in awe, felt a wave of inspiration wash over her. Seeing Gloomeyes’ ascension fueled her own determination. She turned and made her way back to her room, her thoughts racing with the desire to one day ascend herself.