The light cast shadows across the walls as Saria stood frozen, her back pressed against the bricks. A monstrous dog advanced on her, its low growl rumbling. This was her "test of survival," a cruel trial devised by the cult.

Her heart pounded as the creature closed in. She wanted to run, to scream, but fear rooted her in place.

"Saria!" a voice called out as the door slammed open.

Lorian, her twin brother, appeared at the entrance. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward her, placing himself between her and the beast.

"Lorian, you can’t!" Saria shouted in panic.

Ignoring her plea, he grabbed a discarded torch and charged at the creature. It roared, swiping at him with claws that cut the air like blades, but Lorian ducked and struck back. The beast lashed out, raking his side, but Lorian dodged.

Lorian rammed the torch into the creature’s throat. Its dying roar echoed off the stone walls before it collapsed.

Breathing heavily, Lorian turned to Saria. Blood stained his clothes, and his hands shook as he lowered the torch. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she ran to him. "What are you thinking? You will be punished!" she exclaimed, clutching his arm as if afraid to let him go.

"I couldn’t let that monster kill you. I have told our father that you aren't ready yet, but he still insisted on throwing you in the test," he said.

Saria looked up at him. "He wasn't in the wrong. I am too weak."

"That's not true. When we work together, we are invincible."

Saria shook her head. "Your growth is too fast, brother. However, I won't give up. I will definitely catch up to you. Until that moment, can you promise to wait for me?"

He nodded without hesitation. "I promise, Saria. Together, we are invincible."

Their bond became unshakable that day.

---

Several months later, their father summoned them to his working room. Candlelight flickered, casting uneven shadows that danced across the walls. Their father’s stern face emerged from the gloom as he spoke to Lorian and Saria, his words devoid of emotion.

"Lorian, you are to enter The Pit," their father declared, his voice echoing against the stone walls.

Lorian's jaw tightened. He had heard whispers of the brutal deathmatch ritual, but hearing his fate spoken aloud made it all too real.

"The Pit?" Saria stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. "You can’t just send him there! Do you even understand what you’re asking him to do?"

Their father turned his cold gaze to her. "It is not your place to question my decisions," he said. "The Pit is a sacred trial, one that separates the weak from the strong. Lorian has the potential to endure it. You do not."

"That's not true!" she snapped, her voice rising with anger. "I can fight! I can—"

"You will not interfere." Their father’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. As he spoke, an oppressive aura radiated from him, aimed directly at Saria. She flinched, feeling his power press against her chest.

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He let the silence hang for a moment, his gaze hardening. Then, his attention shifted to Lorian. "The rules are clear. From six in the morning to two in the morning, participants may kill. At two, inspections will determine the survivors. If there are six left, the trial will end. Malrik's son will participate in this event. I don't care what you do. Even if it kills you, you need to kill him." He paused, locking eyes with Lorian. "My son will not fail, won't he?"

Lorian couldn’t afford to show weakness. He felt the burning intensity of his father’s aura, a reminder of the expectations he had to meet. His throat tightened, but he swallowed the fear that clawed at him.

He glanced at Saria, her face pale with concern, but he knew there was no turning back. He had been chosen. He had to survive.

His father’s cold eyes bored into him, and for a moment, there was no sound but the suffocating silence of the room. Then, Lorian said, "I won't fail you, father."

His father nodded once, a brief acknowledgment before he continued, "The first-ranked survivor of The Pit will earn the highest reward, a meeting with Archdemon Tyras himself. That Arayn has the potential to rise to greatness. If he meets the Archdemon, I can't imagine what benefits he will receive. We cannot let another Azael rise to prominence."

Saria, who had remained silent, finally spoke. "Can my brother refuse? He has a lot of potential. If you want our family to achieve greatness, you can nurture him. If you need a doll to throw away, use me. Let me take my brother's place!"

"You will bring shame upon yourself and our family," their father said without hesitation. "You are just our honey trap doll, Saria. Your job is to grow pretty so you can pull a talented cultist into our family. That is your destiny. As for you, Lorian, you are just a doll for us to use and throw as we like. Who do you think you are? Don't think that you can replace my actual children, Homunculus!"

Saria clenched her fists, her frustration boiling beneath her skin as their father’s harsh words struck her like a whip. She and Lorian were nothing more than homunculi, creations forged from the DNA of their father’s real children who had died years ago. They had no true bloodline, no true legacy. They were just vessels for their father’s twisted desires, made to fill the emptiness left behind.

Saria's breath hitched as she fought back the surge of anger. She hated being treated like a mere object. A doll. Her purpose was to grow pretty, to ensnare a talented cultist for their family’s gain. That wasn’t her desire. She had her own ambitions. She wanted to prove that she wasn’t just a product of her father's twisted machinations. She was more than that.

She wasn’t a doll. And she would never accept being treated as such.

Saria took a step closer to her brother, her anger now laced with desperation. "Then let me go with him! I won’t just stand by while he—"

"Enough!" Their father’s voice thundered, silencing her. "This is not about your feelings, Saria. This is about Lorian’s purpose. You are not to interfere. Do you understand me?"

Saria bit her lip, her fists trembling at her sides, but she said nothing more.

Lorian placed a hand on her shoulder. "I’ll be fine," he said, his words meant to reassure her, though he didn’t entirely believe them himself.

Saria turned to him. "Promise me you’ll come back," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I promise," he said, though the weight of his words felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Their father stepped forward, his presence looming. "Prepare yourself, Lorian. The Pit awaits, and the strong survive. The weak perish."

As their father left the room, the silence that followed was suffocating. Lorian and Saria stood together, bound by fear and the promise that neither of them truly knew if they could keep.

---

The Hall of Whispers was crowded, its massive structure filled to the brim with eager onlookers. The participants stood at the center. The spectators packed the stands, watching intently, their murmurs of excitement rising as the event drew near.

As the elder of the cult stepped forward, the noise gradually faded, and the hall fell into silence. His voice echoed throughout the hall as he began announcing the names of those who would fight. Then, the elder called out Saria’s name.

Lorian’s heart skipped a beat. Her name? She wasn’t supposed to be in the event. Their father had strictly forbidden it.

Saria unveiled her cloak as she approached her brother. “I entered the event secretly,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t care about Father’s orders. I want to prove that I’m not just a doll. We are not. I want to help you too.”

Lorian’s anger flared, his fists clenched at his sides. “You—this is madness!” he hissed, stepping forward. “You know what this means. You can’t just defy Father like that! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Saria’s gaze remained steady. “Together, Lorian,” she said. “We’re invincible. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

Lorian hesitated. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing on him, the terrible risk, but her words—the certainty in her eyes—pulled at something deep within him. He looked at her for a long moment, his mind racing. They were homunculi, yes, but perhaps, they could be more than what their father had made them to be.

With a sigh, Lorian finally nodded. “Fine, but don’t leave my side.”