Ajal moved quietly through the dense forest, his eyes darting between the towering trees, taking in the eerie stillness around him. It struck him as odd—the absence of other examinees, the silence, and the lack of Salarkistas lurking in the shadows. Something about this part of the trial zone felt... off.
After a few more minutes, he came to an abrupt halt as a worn-out building came into view. It looked like it had once been a grand structure, now weathered and crumbling with age. Vines snaked up its stone walls, and shattered glass windows stared back at him like hollow eyes. Moss clung to the cracks in the bricks, and the wooden beams supporting the roof sagged, as if exhausted from holding up the weight of time. The place seemed like a forgotten relic, a ghost of the past hidden within the forest.
Ajal squinted at the building and muttered to himself, “Are there even any other test-takers around here?”
“Quite a few, actually,” came a voice from behind him. “This zone is simply bigger than you realize.”
Startled, Ajal spun around and found himself face-to-face with a boy and a girl perched on a tree branch above him. The boy’s striking appearance immediately captured Ajal’s attention. His hair was a vibrant shade of orange, each spike radiating outward like flames, a testament to his fiery spirit. But it was his attire that truly set him apart.
The boy wore a tailored suit that blended Victorian elegance with a hint of industrial ingenuity. His jacket, a deep burgundy with a subtle sheen, was adorned with brass buttons engraved with tiny gear motifs. A high, stiff collar lined with velvet added a touch of refinement, while a golden-brown waistcoat underneath featured small pockets and loops designed to hold various tools and gadgets. His trousers, a shade darker than the vest, were neatly tucked into polished leather boots with brass buckles and faint gear patterns etched along the sides. Around his neck, a cravat of cream and gold fabric was secured by a gear-shaped tie pin that glinted faintly in the dappled sunlight.
Ajal stared, openly impressed. “Wow... how much did all that cost?”
The boy scoffed, clearly pleased with the reaction but trying not to show it. “Cost? I made it with my own hands,” he replied, then added under his breath, “And with Arc’s help, of course.”
Beside him, the girl raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “Mostly my hands, Master Jean,” she said, her tone polite but laced with dry humor. She jumped down from the tree branch with an effortless grace, landing softly on the ground and making her way towards Ajal.
She moved with quiet efficiency, her long, ethereal white hair flowing like a silken river down her back. Strands occasionally fell across her face, and she tucked them behind her ear with a practiced, delicate gesture. Her striking yellow eyes, reminiscent of polished amber, held an intelligent gleam, observing Ajal with a quiet curiosity.
Her attire, while simpler than Jean’s, bore subtle nods to the same steampunk aesthetic. She wore a traditional maid’s dress, but the fabric had a faint bronze sheen, with small brass buttons engraved with tiny cogs and wheels. A slender belt around her waist held small pouches and tools, and her apron, pristine and neatly tied, was embroidered with a pattern of interlocking gears. Practical yet stylish ankle boots completed her look, polished to a soft glow, with discreet gear motifs embossed along the sides.
Despite her modest attire, she carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, her movements precise and graceful. There was something about her—a sense of purpose, as if she were more than just a servant. She was, in her own way, a guardian of Jean’s world, her presence as essential as the ticking of a clock.
Jean hopped down from the branch behind her, his face scrunching up in mild annoyance. “Arc, I was supposed to make the entrance first.”
Ajal studied the two newcomers with a mix of curiosity and caution, his eyes flicking between Jean’s flamboyant attire and Arc’s calm, poised demeanor. “So... who are you guys?”
Jean puffed out his chest, ready to make a grand introduction, but Arc spoke first, her voice smooth and polite. “My name is Arc. A pleasure to meet you, Ajal.”
Ajal blinked in surprise. “Wait—how do you know my name?”
Jean cleared his throat, stepping forward with a smug grin. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a genius, of course. Just a little deduction and—”
Arc interrupted, her expression unfazed. “Actually, all the participants were informed that an Inheritor would be taking part in the trials. Your name, Ajal, has become rather well-known. Because of your status, many are actively avoiding you.”
Ajal tilted his head, visibly puzzled. “If that’s the case, why aren’t you guys avoiding me?”
Jean smirked, crossing his arms. “Simple. I’m willing to take my chances.” He gave Ajal a confident look, one eyebrow raised. “If you’re on our team, great. If not—well, then we’ll just beat you in a fight.”
Arc sighed, shooting Jean a polite but pointed look. “Master Jean, fighting an Inheritor isn’t something one should take so lightly. It’s hardly a ‘simple fight.’”
Jean waved her off, unfazed by the correction. “Details, details. Anyway,” he looked at Ajal expectantly, “you are on Team Z, aren’t you?”
Ajal nodded. “Yeah, Team Z.”
Jean’s face lit up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Fantastic! That settles it, then. As the newly appointed leader of Team Z, I—”
“No,” Arc interrupted again, her tone as calm and polite as ever. “I am the leader.”
Jean’s jaw dropped, and he whirled on her with a dramatic huff. “I should be the leader! I’m the one with the ambition to become the greatest inventor in the world! That practically makes me destined for it.”
Arc raised an eyebrow, maintaining her composure. “Your dreams have absolutely nothing to do with leadership.”
“Yes, they do!” Jean shot back, folding his arms and glancing away stubbornly.
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do!”
“No, they don’t.”
Ajal watched the back-and-forth exchange with growing amusement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. These two were clearly used to this sort of banter, and it was more entertaining than he’d expected.
Finally, Jean seemed to realize they weren’t getting anywhere and dropped the argument with a shrug. He turned back to Ajal, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “By the way, where’s your scythe? I heard Death’s Inheritor carries one.”
Ajal scratched his head, giving a half-smile. “It’s, uh… complicated. The scythe doesn’t exactly come out unless I need it. Right now, it’s just my scarf.”
Jean’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the scarf with intense interest. “Fascinating...”
“So what about you?” Ajal asked, glancing between Jean and Arc. “What’s your Gift?”
Jean gave a smug grin and patted Arc on the back. “Right here. She’s my Gift.”
Arc’s lips quirked in a faint smile, and she cast a sideways glance at Jean. “Master Jean, please refrain from touching me so casually.”
Jean blinked, flustered, and quickly withdrew his hand. “Oh! Right. Sorry, Arc.”
Ajal’s brow furrowed, clearly puzzled. “Wait… she’s your Gift?”
Jean turned back to Ajal with a self-assured grin. “Of course. It’s called an Avatar type, obviously. I thought you’d know that.” He puffed up a little, as if proud of his ‘expert’ explanation. “An Avatar type is a Gift with its own sentience. Arc here was created by the Great Creator himself.”
Ajal’s gaze drifted over to Arc, who was now standing perfectly still, her form poised like a statue—elegant and almost doll-like. Ajal couldn’t help but be impressed. “That’s… actually really cool.”
Jean smirked, clearly pleased by the reaction. “Isn’t it? Arc is one of a kind. Her capabilities are beyond anything you’d find in any other—”
Before he could finish, Ajal interrupted with an innocent expression. “So… isn’t it kinda weird, y’know, sleeping with a robot?”
Jean’s face turned beet red, and he flailed slightly, caught off guard. “W-Wait! I don’t—It’s not like that! I mean, it’s not because I don’t think Arc isn’t attractive, but—”
Arc cut in smoothly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “My, my, Master Jean. I had no idea my presence was so… underwhelming.”
Jean’s face flushed even darker. “Arc! That’s not what I—! I’m sorry, alright?”
Ajal snickered, finding their dynamic even more amusing than before. Arc, meanwhile, gave Jean a polite smile and tilted her head toward the old building in the distance. “Perhaps we should continue inside. This location seems to hold significance for the trial, does it not?”
Jean straightened, visibly eager to move on from the embarrassing topic. “Yes! Yes, of course. Let’s go investigate.”
As they walked through the overgrown path toward the crumbling building, Ajal broke the silence, glancing curiously at Arc. “Hey, Arc?”
“Yes, Ajal?” she responded, her voice calm and composed.
He hesitated for a moment. “Jean said you’re an Avatar… so, does that mean you’re not actually, you know, human?”
Arc nodded gracefully. “That is correct. I am an Avatar-type Gift, created by the Great Creator.” Her amber eyes met his, steady and unflinching. “But although I was created, I am still a person in my own right. I have thoughts, emotions, and autonomy, much like any human.”
Ajal’s eyes widened, impressed by her candid response. “That’s… actually pretty amazing. I didn’t know Gifts could be like that.”
Arc’s expression softened ever so slightly, a faint warmth in her otherwise composed demeanor. “Thank you, Ajal. I am quite proud of who I am.”
Jean, overhearing the exchange, crossed his arms and huffed. “Of course she’s amazing. I wouldn’t settle for anything less, would I?”
Arc gave him a polite look, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “No, Master Jean, you would not.”
Ajal chuckled at their dynamic, finding a strange sense of camaraderie forming between them. He followed the pair as they reached the grand entrance of the building, his eyes taking in the details.
Up close, the structure had an eerie beauty to it. The walls, once majestic, were now cracked and weathered, covered in thick vines that twisted and crept up to the roof. Jagged remnants of glass clung to the window frames, and thick roots from nearby trees had started to tear through the stone foundation. The two massive doors at the entrance were worn and splintered, their intricate carvings nearly faded with age. One of the doors hung slightly off its hinges, creaking ominously in the breeze.
Ajal gazed up at the building with wide eyes, taking in the decaying grandeur. “This place is amazing.”
Arc nodded, her usual poise giving way to a slight note of wonder. “There is… a certain mystique to it.”
Jean, however, scoffed, crossing his arms in disapproval. “Amazing? Please. This place is practically falling apart.”
Ajal shrugged, unbothered. “Yeah, but that’s what makes it cool. It’s got, I dunno… character.”
Arc glanced at the weathered doors. “Shall we enter, Master Jean?”
Jean rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation. “Oh, yes, let’s just walk right into the spooky, crumbling building in the middle of a trial zone. Maybe we should even ask the locals if they have some tea and biscuits.”
Arc nodded thoughtfully. “An excellent suggestion, Master Jean. A rest stop would indeed be beneficial.”
Jean threw up his hands. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, Master Jean. I simply thought it prudent to highlight the merits of your suggestion.” She gestured to the doors. “Shall we proceed?”
With a sigh, Jean gave in. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Together, they pushed open the heavy, creaking doors and stepped inside.
The interior was shrouded in shadows, with beams of sunlight filtering in through gaps in the ceiling. Dust floated in the air, and their footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, and faded tapestries hung from the walls, their colors dulled and details obscured by time. Thick pillars lined the hall, cracked and draped with hanging vines, yet somehow still standing, giving the place an air of decayed grandeur.
At the far end of the hall, they spotted a series of intricate engravings on the wall. The patterns and symbols were complex, woven into a design that seemed to form a coded message or sequence. Beneath the engravings stood a pedestal, its surface worn smooth by time. Above it, a faded painting of a mountain landscape hung crookedly, with faint etchings around its border that looked like coordinates or formulas.
Ajal tilted his head, squinting at the engravings. “Looks like… some kind of puzzle?”
Jean’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, his earlier reluctance forgotten. “It’s more than just a puzzle. This is a challenge.” He ran his fingers over the symbols, muttering to himself. “These engravings look like they’re part of a larger mechanism… some kind of sequence we need to trigger.”
Arc examined the patterns carefully. “Perhaps each symbol is a clue, leading us to the correct sequence.”
Jean nodded, deep in thought. “Exactly. And if we get it wrong…” He hesitated, glancing around. “There might be… consequences.”
Ajal grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Consequences, huh? So, what do you think we do first? Maybe we just… pull that lever over there?” He pointed to a random lever near the pedestal.
Jean’s eyes widened. “No, no, no! Don’t just pull things at random!”
Ajal held up his hands, feigning innocence. “Hey, I’m just trying to help. Maybe we should try pressing all the symbols at once?”
Jean shot him a glare. “Do you have any idea how complicated this mechanism is? If we press them in the wrong order, we could set off a trap, or worse, destroy whatever prize is at the end of this thing!”
Ajal shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, alright. No need to get worked up, Mr. Genius.”
Jean rolled his eyes, but there was a faint grin tugging at his lips. He turned back to the wall, tracing the symbols with his finger. “See these patterns here?” he said, pointing to a sequence of triangles and spirals. “They’re repeated in the first few symbols. I think this sequence unlocks… something. Maybe if we pull these levers in the right order…”
He crouched down by the levers, which were arranged in a row beneath the engravings, each marked with a matching symbol. Taking a deep breath, Jean pulled the first lever, then the second, his movements precise and deliberate.
A faint scraping sound echoed through the hall, and Ajal’s gaze darted up, his eyes narrowing. Shadows seemed to shift in the high rafters above, but whatever was there remained hidden, concealed in the gloom.
Jean’s brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled the third lever. “Okay, I think that was right… Now, we just need to—”
Ajal cut him off with a smirk. “Maybe we should try pulling all of them at once, just to be sure.”
Jean looked up, exasperated. “Are you trying to sabotage this?”
Ajal’s grin widened. “Nah, I just wanted to see how you’d react.”
Jean rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but he seemed oddly motivated by the teasing. He turned back to the wall, studying the symbols with renewed determination. “Alright, next sequence… these triangles here. If we’re right, pulling them should reveal… something.”
He carefully pulled the next lever in the sequence, and a section of the wall slid aside, revealing a small compartment with a scroll tucked inside. Arc reached out, retrieving the scroll and handing it to Jean, who unrolled it with a sense of satisfaction.
On the scroll was a riddle written in faded ink:
To seek the prize you desire most,
Through shadows deep, to the mountain’s coast.
Yet beware, for those who reach the peak,
Find what they seek will make them weak.
Ajal peered over Jean’s shoulder, reading the riddle aloud. “The mountain’s coast? So… we’re supposed to go to a mountain?”
Jean nodded, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Seems that way. This riddle is probably telling us where the token is hidden.”
Arc inclined her head, her gaze flickering upward. “Then we should proceed, Master Jean. The trial does not appear to reward idleness.”
Jean was about to respond when a low, almost imperceptible scraping sound echoed through the room again. This time, Ajal looked up, catching a glimpse of something massive shifting in the shadows above, but he didn’t look concerned. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, a small, amused grin playing on his lips.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” he muttered, as though speaking to himself.
Jean glanced at him, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
Ajal shrugged, keeping his voice casual. “Nothing. Let’s just… keep moving, yeah?”
As they turned to head deeper into the building, the faint sound of something heavy and jagged scraping against stone echoed ominously above them, hidden in the shadows.
As they ventured further into the crumbling hall, Ajal took one last look at the scroll in Jean’s hands, muttering the riddle to himself. “Through shadows deep… mountain’s coast… weak…” He scratched his head, trying to piece it together. “So, what does that mean? Are we supposed to just hike up a mountain?”
Jean rolled his eyes, looking both frustrated and amused. “If it were that simple, don’t you think the others would have figured it out by now?” He traced his fingers along the grooves on the wall, inspecting another set of symbols that hadn’t been obvious at first glance. “There’s more to it. This place is a test of strategy and intelligence, not just endurance.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Arc leaned forward, studying the markings beside him. “Indeed, Master Jean. The sequence seems to continue here, leading… somewhere.” She pointed to a faint engraving on the floor that looked like a twisted, serpentine line, snaking off into the shadows.
Jean followed the line with his gaze, spotting another pedestal at the far end of the hall, partially hidden behind a cluster of toppled pillars. Unlike the first, this one was surrounded by a strange circle of symbols etched directly into the stone floor.
Ajal raised an eyebrow. “Think we’re supposed to do something with that?”
“Most likely,” Jean murmured, pacing toward it with Arc and Ajal following close behind. “I’ll bet it’s the next part of the sequence.”
As they reached the pedestal, Ajal peered over Jean’s shoulder, squinting at the unfamiliar symbols carved into the stone circle. “Maybe we just spin it around? You know, like a dial?”
Jean shot him an exasperated look. “Ajal, this isn’t a kitchen timer. It’s a carefully constructed mechanism.”
Ajal grinned, looking unbothered. “Hey, just trying to help. My ideas have been pretty good so far, right?”
Jean let out a heavy sigh, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Let’s just focus on this, alright?”
He examined the pedestal closely, his fingers hovering over the symbols as he worked through the possible solutions in his head. “These markings… they’re in pairs. But they’re all different combinations, like pieces of a larger code. If we figure out the correct sequence, it should unlock something.”
Arc observed the symbols, her gaze analytical. “Master Jean, it appears the symbols are grouped into sets of three. Perhaps each grouping represents a specific step in the sequence?”
Jean’s eyes lit up. “Good catch, Arc. If each set corresponds to a different lever, then activating them in order should reveal the next step.” He glanced over at Ajal. “Care to give it a try?”
Ajal shrugged, stepping forward. “Sure. Which one do I pull?”
Jean pointed to three levers at the base of the pedestal, each marked with different symbols that matched the carvings on the floor. “Pull them in this order—left, right, then center.”
Ajal placed his hand on the first lever, pausing for dramatic effect. “You’re sure about this, right? I mean, if you’re wrong, we might get turned into pancakes.”
Jean crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Just pull the lever, Ajal.”
Ajal flashed him a grin and yanked down on the first lever, then moved to the second and third in quick succession. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a deep rumbling sound, a panel in the wall slid open, revealing another scroll nestled inside a small alcove.
Jean reached in and pulled out the scroll, unrolling it to reveal another riddle:
Three steps forward, but never back,
Through the halls, where shadows track.
Find the door with mirrored glow,
Where whispers call, but none may know.
Jean read it aloud, a faint frown creasing his brow. “It’s like a set of directions… three steps forward, halls with shadows… a mirrored glow…”
Ajal scratched his head. “So… walk three steps, find a hallway, and look for a shiny door?”
Jean closed his eyes, clearly resisting the urge to groan. “No, Ajal. It’s a metaphor. ‘Three steps forward, never back.’ It’s suggesting movement, but it’s symbolic.”
Ajal leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, I get it. Maybe we’re supposed to moonwalk through the hallways so we don’t ‘go back’?”
Jean threw him an incredulous look. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
Ajal shrugged, barely containing a smirk. “Who, me?”
Arc cleared her throat, redirecting the focus. “Perhaps we should consider the phrase ‘mirrored glow.’ It could be a clue to the environment we should be searching for.”
Jean nodded, regaining his composure. “Right. A mirrored glow suggests something reflective—possibly light bouncing off another surface.” He glanced down at the symbols on the floor. “And these markings could indicate the direction. They’re all pointing toward that archway on the left.”
They moved toward the archway, which led into a narrow corridor draped in shadows. The light from the main hall grew dim as they entered, and the atmosphere took on a hushed, almost oppressive quality. Ajal glanced over his shoulder, noting that the main hall now seemed far behind them.
“Anyone else feel like we’re walking into a trap?” he muttered, his voice half-joking.
Jean didn’t respond, his attention fixed on the walls. The symbols continued here, subtly etched into the stone and seeming to guide their path. As they walked, Ajal noticed a faint glimmer up ahead, like a trickle of light reflecting off polished glass.
“There it is,” Jean whispered, pointing to a doorway at the end of the corridor. The door itself was plain and wooden, but it glowed faintly, as if coated in a sheen of liquid silver. They stepped closer, each of them captivated by the strange effect.
Jean placed his hand on the door, pushing it open with a slow creak. Inside, the room was dark and silent, save for a dim light cast by a series of polished mirrors lining the walls, arranged in an intricate, maze-like pattern. The mirrors were angled in such a way that they reflected each other, creating an endless illusion of space that stretched far beyond the actual dimensions of the room.
Arc stepped in, examining the setup with a calculating gaze. “This appears to be another puzzle. Perhaps these mirrors must be aligned to reveal the next clue.”
Jean nodded, his excitement barely contained. “Exactly. We’ll need to adjust the angles to form a specific path… but judging by the complexity, there’s likely a precise order to it.”
Ajal wandered over to the closest mirror, tilting his head as he examined his reflection. “So… we just start turning them until something clicks, right?”
Jean let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that simple. If we get the angles wrong, we could misalign the whole sequence and have to start over.”
Ajal grinned, clearly unfazed. “Sounds like a fun challenge to me.”
Arc moved to another mirror, studying the intricate designs etched into its frame. “Master Jean, each mirror has a different symbol engraved upon it. Perhaps the sequence of these symbols aligns with the previous clues?”
Jean’s eyes lit up. “Good observation, Arc. The symbols from the previous hall—they correspond to the designs on these mirrors. If we arrange them in that order, it might create the reflection we’re looking for.”
He quickly positioned himself between two of the mirrors, checking the angles and adjusting each one carefully. Ajal, meanwhile, leaned against a wall, watching with mild amusement as Jean meticulously calculated each adjustment.
“Need any help, Mr. Genius?” Ajal offered with a smirk.
Jean shot him a glare. “Only if you plan on actually contributing something useful.”
Ajal chuckled, moving over to a mirror on the far side of the room. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along.” He adjusted the mirror, but purposefully tilted it in the wrong direction, just to see Jean’s reaction.
The moment the reflection shifted off-course, Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Ajal. Stop messing around.”
Ajal grinned, feigning innocence. “Oh, my bad. Guess I’m still getting the hang of all this ‘intelligence’ stuff.”
Jean clenched his jaw, exasperated, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Just… stay there and hold that mirror in place, alright?”
As they continued adjusting the mirrors, the faint glimmer of light began to form a cohesive path, stretching toward the center of the room. Shadows danced along the walls, distorted by the shifting reflections, and an eerie quiet settled over them.
Above, high in the rafters, a subtle movement disturbed the dust, but none of them noticed. The low, scraping sound continued, barely audible, like something shifting in anticipation, biding its time.
The light from the mirrors converged on a single spot in the middle of the floor, casting a circular glow. Jean straightened, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “We did it. That’s the next part of the puzzle.”
Ajal stepped forward, peering down at the glowing circle. “So… what now?”
Jean glanced at Arc, then back at Ajal, a mixture of excitement and wariness in his expression. “Now, we find out what we just unlocked.”
As the light converged on the center of the floor, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Faint cracks appeared around the glowing circle, spiraling outward like veins of light. The air grew heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that made the hair on the back of Ajal’s neck stand up.
Jean took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied the light on the floor. “This… this isn’t just a normal trigger,” he muttered, his voice tinged with apprehension. “I think it’s connected to something deeper in the room.”
Before anyone could respond, a loud, resonant scrape echoed from above, like metal dragging across stone. Ajal looked up, catching a glimpse of movement in the shadows high in the rafters. A dark, hulking shape hung there, obscured by the dim light, but its presence was unmistakable. Whatever it was, it was huge… and it was watching them.
Arc’s eyes narrowed, her stance shifting subtly as she prepared herself. “Master Jean, I believe we may have company.”
Jean swallowed, taking a step back as he assessed the situation. “We’re not alone. But whatever’s up there isn’t part of the puzzle… it’s a deterrent.” His voice was tight with focus, his mind racing through the possibilities. “It’s meant to keep us from solving this thing.”
Ajal grinned, his hand instinctively resting on his scarf, which he could transform into his scythe at a moment’s notice. “Well, I’d like to see it try. Just tell me where to hit.”
But before he could finish, a section of the wall slid open with a crunching sound, and three figures emerged from hidden alcoves around the room. They were humanoid, but their eyes were empty voids, and their skin had a sickly, grayish hue that seemed to absorb the light around them. Each of them was wielding a different weapon—a long, rusted sword, a pair of jagged daggers, and a heavy iron mace. They moved with an unnatural, jerky gait, like puppets on strings, and a low, guttural growl resonated from their throats.
Jean’s face went pale as he realized what was happening. “They’re… they’re sentries. Guardians of the puzzle.”
Arc squared her shoulders, a look of calm determination in her amber eyes. “If they stand in our way, we’ll simply have to remove them.”
Ajal’s grin widened, the thrill of a fight lighting up his eyes. “Now this is more like it.” Without another word, he reached up, tugging on his scarf, which shifted and lengthened in his hand, transforming into his scythe with a smooth, practiced motion. He swung it with ease, feeling the familiar weight as he took a stance beside Arc.
Jean, meanwhile, backed toward the pedestal, his eyes darting between the advancing sentries and the symbols on the walls. “I’ll figure out the next step. Just… keep them off me.”
“Can do!” Ajal called over his shoulder, his tone almost playful as he readied himself for the first strike.
The three sentries moved in unison, their eyes locked on the intruders. The one with the rusted sword lunged at Ajal, swinging down with brute force. Ajal sidestepped easily, twisting his scythe in a wide arc and deflecting the blade, sending a shower of sparks across the stone floor. He spun, bringing the scythe back around in a fluid motion, slicing across the sentry’s arm. The creature staggered back, black ichor oozing from the wound, but it showed no sign of pain.
At the same time, the sentry with the daggers charged at Arc, its movements fast and unpredictable. Arc squared her shoulders, a look of calm determination in her amber eyes. She took a deep breath, then launched herself at the sentry wielding the daggers, meeting it head-on without hesitation. She dodged its initial strike with a graceful sidestep and countered with a powerful punch that landed squarely on its chest. The force of her blow sent the creature reeling back, its feet scraping against the stone as it struggled to maintain balance.
Ajal blinked, momentarily distracted by Arc’s sheer strength. “Wait… you’re that strong?” he asked, sounding equal parts impressed and amazed.
Arc didn’t miss a beat, delivering a swift uppercut to the sentry’s jaw that sent it staggering back. She spared Ajal a calm glance. “I was created to be of use, Ajal. Physical strength is part of my design.”
Ajal let out a low whistle, ducking another swing from his own opponent. “You just cooler and cooler....”
Jean, who was focused intently on the puzzle, shot them an exasperated look. “Can we please save the admiration for after we survive this?”
The third sentry, wielding the iron mace, lumbered toward Jean, its heavy weapon raised high. Ajal spotted it and lunged forward, his scythe arcing through the air with deadly precision. “Not so fast,” he growled, slashing the sentry across the chest and forcing it back. The creature staggered, but didn’t fall, its eyes flickering with a dark, malevolent light.
“Okay, these guys are tougher than they look,” Ajal muttered, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “Any bright ideas, Mr. Genius?”
Jean ignored the jab, his mind focused entirely on the symbols in front of him. There was something here, a pattern he couldn’t quite decipher… something about the way they moved, the way they fought…
The sound of scraping metal echoed through the hall again, louder this time, and Ajal looked up just in time to see the dark shape in the rafters shifting, its monstrous form descending ever so slightly. The dim light revealed glimpses of twisted, sinewy flesh, and the glint of razor-sharp teeth hidden in a massive, gaping maw.
Arc glanced upward, her usually calm expression tight with tension. “Master Jean, whatever is up there… it is getting closer.”
Jean’s hands clenched, his frustration evident. “I know! Just… give me a moment!”
The sentries, relentless in their pursuit, attacked again, each one moving with a single-minded purpose. Ajal deflected another blow from the sword-wielding sentry, twisting around to land a solid kick that sent the creature stumbling back. “Not exactly chatty, are they?” he quipped, his tone almost taunting.
“Focus, Ajal,” Arc said, dodging a swipe from the dagger-wielding sentry and countering with a rapid series of punches to its torso. Her fists moved like precision instruments, each strike landing with enough force to send small shockwaves through the creature’s body. “These are not mere illusions. They have purpose, though I cannot yet discern what it is.”
Jean’s gaze flickered between the symbols and the sentries, his mind racing. “Purpose… they’re guardians. But… no, it’s not just that. There’s another pattern here, another sequence…”
He studied the engravings, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a set of smaller symbols hidden beneath the primary sequence. They were almost imperceptible, but they seemed to match the weapons each sentry was wielding—a blade, a pair of daggers, a mace. The way they’re defeated might be tied to the symbols…
“Jean!” Ajal’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts as the rusted sword sentry lunged at him again, its movements growing faster, more aggressive. “If you’ve got any ideas, don’t be afraid to share with the class!”
Jean’s mind raced, putting the pieces together. “It’s… it’s about how you attack them!” he shouted, his voice urgent. “The sequence of symbols matches the weapons! You have to… you have to defeat them in a specific way!”
Ajal grinned, the thrill of the fight clear in his eyes. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
But Jean held up a hand, signaling him to wait. “No, not yet! I’m still working out the exact sequence. Just keep them busy until I’m sure.”
The scraping sound above grew louder, and Ajal could now make out more of the monstrous creature descending from the rafters. Its maw was a cavern of teeth, twisting and writhing as though it were alive, and its blood-red eyes glinted in the shadows. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fully revealing itself yet, as if it were waiting for something.
Arc caught sight of the beast as well, her gaze unwavering. “Master Jean, I suggest we quicken our pace. That creature does not seem the patient type.”
Jean nodded, his focus razor-sharp. “Just… a little longer. I need to make sure I don’t get the order wrong. If we take them down in the wrong sequence, it might trigger a trap.”
Ajal let out an exasperated sigh. “You know, for a genius, you’re awfully slow at this!”
Jean shot him a glare. “I’d like to see you try deciphering ancient symbols while monsters are attacking!”
Ajal chuckled, dodging another swing from the sword-wielding sentry and countering with a quick, precise slice across its midsection. “Hey, no need to get defensive, Mr. Genius. I’m just keeping the mood light.”
The creature in the rafters let out a low, rumbling growl, as if growing impatient with the battle below. It began to descend further, its twisted, sinewy form casting long shadows across the room, each scrape of its limbs sending chills down their spines. The Salarkista wasn’t fully in the room yet, but its looming presence was like a dark cloud, promising devastation if they didn’t hurry.
Jean glanced up at it, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “No pressure or anything,” he muttered, refocusing on the symbols. He traced the grooves with his finger, muttering under his breath as he deciphered the next part of the sequence.
“Almost there…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Arc moved with precision and grace, using her fists and knees to keep the dagger-wielding sentry at bay. Her strength was astounding, each strike landing with a resounding impact that forced the creature back.
Finally, Jean locked in on the last piece of the puzzle. “I think I’ve got it!” he shouted, his voice filled with sudden triumph. “It’s all in the order of the weapons!”
Ajal spun around, his scythe at the ready. “Alright, then let’s do this. Just tell me what to hit first!”
Jean opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the Salarkista’s maw opened wide, letting out a guttural roar that shook the entire room. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the ground trembled beneath their feet.
Jean’s face went pale as he realized they had mere moments left before the creature fully entered the room. “There’s no time—just follow my lead!”
With renewed urgency, he took charge, signaling Ajal and Arc into position as he prepared to execute the final sequence. The next page would be their last chance to solve the puzzle, or they’d be at the mercy of the Salarkista.
Jean’s voice rang out over the roar of the Salarkista, his mind racing to execute the final sequence before the creature fully entered the room.
"Ajal, start with the sentries holding the daggers! Arc, the ones with the maces are yours!” Jean shouted, his voice steady despite the tremors shaking the floor beneath them.
Ajal nodded, his grip tightening on his scythe as he moved swiftly to intercept the dagger-wielding sentries. He weaved between them with fluid precision, his scythe slicing through the air in controlled arcs. Each strike was quick and efficient, clearing a path through the enemies.
“Alright, daggers down!” Ajal called, barely pausing as he turned to face the next wave.
Arc moved with calm purpose, her eyes sharp as she zeroed in on the sentries armed with maces. She ducked under a wide swing from one of them, then countered with a powerful punch that crumpled its chest armor inward, sending it sprawling. Another sentry came at her from the side, but she pivoted smoothly, delivering a crushing knee to its midsection that left it motionless.
Jean glanced up at the Salarkista looming above, its grotesque face twisted in fury. The creature’s massive jaws inched closer, its desperation palpable as it summoned more and more sentries to stall them. It let out a furious screech, and the ground quaked as cracks began to spread along the walls, dust and debris raining down.
“Next!” Ajal yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Jean's mind raced, remembering the sequence from the ancient symbols. “Swords, then axes!” he called, his voice tense but focused. “Ajal, you’re up for the swords. Arc, axes are yours!”
Ajal surged forward as another wave of sentries appeared, these ones bearing swords with jagged, rusted edges. He parried a strike with his scythe, twisting his body to avoid a second blow from the side. His movements were fluid, each dodge and counterattack seamless, his instincts honed from months of intense training.
Watching him, Arc gave an approving nod before turning her attention to the axe-wielding sentries. She moved with brutal efficiency, stepping in close to deflect one of their swings before delivering a crushing elbow to its face. Her strength was undeniable, each blow powerful enough to knock her opponents back several feet.
Despite the intensity of the fight, Ajal couldn't help but let out a laugh, adrenaline surging through him. "Hey Arc, quick question, just how strong are you?"
“I can lift up to roughly four tons, Ajal,” she replied, her tone calm, yet laced with a hint of pride as she dispatched another sentry with a kick that sent it flying into a wall. “But Master Jean doesn’t like me mentioning it, he said it makes me seem less ladylike.”
“Focus!” Jean barked, his eyes never leaving the puzzle as he traced the final symbols, his voice laced with urgency. He could feel the room beginning to destabilize around them, the Salarkista’s enraged thrashing threatening to bring the entire structure down.
Just then, the Salarkista, realizing its sentries were failing, let out a blood-curdling roar. Its mouth opened impossibly wide, and a sickly, dark fog began to pour out, filling the room with a sense of oppressive dread. The temperature dropped, and an acrid stench filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
“There’s no choice… Arc, it’s up to you!” Jean shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Take out the Salarkista! Now!”
Without hesitation, Arc took a deep breath, steeling herself. She crouched low, her muscles coiling like a spring. Then, with an explosive release of energy, she launched herself straight into the air, aiming directly at the Salarkista’s gaping maw. The sheer force of her leap cracked the stone floor beneath her, sending a shockwave rippling outward. Stones and debris scattered in her wake as she hurtled toward the creature’s open mouth, her fist drawn back.
Ajal’s eyes widened. “Arc! Wait!”
But Jean remained calm, a faint, confident smile on his face. “Trust her,” he said, more to himself than to Ajal, though his voice held a quiet confidence. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
Inside the Salarkista’s throat, Arc continued her upward ascent, her body a blur of controlled power. She clenched her fist, winding up for a strike as she propelled herself through the creature’s body. With a final, devastating punch, she broke through the roof of its mouth, shattering the creature’s skull and bursting through the ceiling of the building itself.
The Salarkista let out a strangled scream as its body convulsed, its massive frame collapsing. The black fog dissipated, and the creature’s life faded, leaving nothing but a gaping, broken husk. The walls of the ancient building began to give way under the strain, and with a groaning creak, the entire structure started to collapse around them.
“Run!” Jean shouted, his eyes wide as he bolted for the exit.
Ajal didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted after Jean, leaping over chunks of falling debris as they made their way to the entrance. They burst outside just as the building crumbled behind them, a cloud of dust and rubble billowing out in their wake.
As the dust began to settle, Ajal spotted a familiar figure emerging from the wreckage. Arc stepped forward, brushing off bits of stone and dirt, her expression as composed as ever.
Jean ran over to her, arms outstretched, and enveloped her in a dramatic embrace. “Arc! I thought I’d lost you! You brave, noble soul!”
Arc raised an eyebrow, her tone as calm as ever. “Master Jean, I assure you, I am perfectly fine. I believe you’re using this moment as an excuse to hug me.”
Jean coughed, pulling back with a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged pink. “W-Well… maybe a little.”
Ajal let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.
Jean quickly straightened, regaining his composure. He pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment he’d sketched notes on, his eyes lighting up as he pieced it together. “That puzzle wasn’t just a random test. It was pointing us to the next location.”
He scanned the symbols he’d hastily recorded, his expression one of pride as he solved the last piece. “It’s the location of a token. And if I’m reading this right, it’s actually the token for Team E.”
Ajal frowned, crossing his arms. “Team E? Wait, wouldn’t that help us if we found it?”
Jean nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eye. “Exactly. The rules said that we can use any team’s token as long as that team is eliminated. It’s not an ideal scenario, but we have no clue where our token is, so we don’t have a choice but to get the token and hunt down team E.”
Ajal raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Makes sense. so how’d you manage to read all those ancient symbols, anyway? Are you secretly some old ancient being that just looks young like in one of those fairy tale stories?”
Jean rolled up the paper and shoved it into his back pocket. “Some of it was similar to the language used in old machinery diagrams I read growing up, so I just pieced things together and it worked out.”
Ajal grinned, giving him an approving look. “Wow. You might actually be a genius, Jean.”
Jean stammered, clearly flustered but pleased. “Oh, it’s nothing for someone like me.” He let out a boastful laugh.
Arc, catching the exchange, tilted her head, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “Indeed, Master Jean, however, your red cheeks don’t help the confident act you are putting on.”
Jean sputtered, averting his gaze as he tried to hide his growing blush. “Shut up!”
As they prepared to move out, Ajal chuckled at the banter, but just as they turned to leave, he felt an odd prickling at the back of his neck—a sense that they were being watched.
High above them, hidden in the branches of a tall tree, a figure crouched in silence. A long, sleek tail—furry and dark—swung beneath the branch, flicking lazily back and forth. Golden eyes gleamed in the shadows, observing them with a predatory interest.
Before Ajal could pinpoint the source, the presence melted back into the shadows, leaving only the rustling of leaves in its wake.