The night was a smothering blanket, wrapping Skylance City in shadows and neon flickers, but deep underground—where the Assassination Pyramid hid its most dangerous secrets—light was a distant memory. Alastor and Selene moved in sync, slipping through layers of security, guided by shared instincts honed over lifetimes of death and betrayal. Each step took them closer to the higher levels of the Pyramid—a place few had ever seen, where only the most loyal, broken, or damned assassins dared tread.

The scarab pulsed against Alastor’s skin like a heartbeat, each thrum a reminder of the dangerous power he carried. It whispered to him, nudging the time stream, helping them stay ahead of the deadly traps that lined the hidden corridors. But every use of the scarab’s power chipped away at something inside him—he could feel it, like grains of sand slipping through his fingers.

He didn’t tell Selene how close the power was to consuming him.

They reached the mouth of a narrow passage, carved from stone older than the foundations of Skylance City itself. Hieroglyphs lined the walls, glowing faintly with an ominous red hue. As they pressed deeper, the air grew colder, heavy with the echoes of pain and desperation from those who had come before. Alastor’s jaw tightened. These tunnels were not just pathways—they were trials.

“This is the way?” Selene whispered, her voice low but steady.

Alastor gave a short nod. "It has to be. The higher levels are where the real power is—where the ones who run this nightmare live."

Selene scanned the hall with her assassin’s precision, her fingers ghosting over the hilt of her blade. “No turning back after this.”

Alastor smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “There was no turning back the moment we woke up in this loop.”

They moved deeper, their steps silent but deliberate, every breath measured. As they crossed the threshold into the next chamber, the walls closed behind them with a grinding thud, sealing them in.

The glow of the hieroglyphs intensified, shifting from red to a deep, pulsating gold. Symbols of death, life, and transformation writhed across the walls like serpents, reshaping themselves with each passing second, as though alive.

"This isn’t just a corridor," Selene murmured, her violet eyes scanning the twisting patterns. "It’s... it’s a gateway to the higher levels."

Alastor clenched his fists. "Or it’s a trap."

Then, the air rippled, and a deep, resonant voice echoed from the shadows.

"To ascend, you must embrace the abyss."

Alastor’s spine stiffened, and Selene’s hand went to her blade. The voice wasn’t coming from a person—it was woven into the very walls, as if the stone itself carried the weight of ancient commandments.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and with a sudden pulse of energy, the hieroglyphs erupted into blinding gold flames. The air warped, shifting as if the rules of reality itself were being rewritten.

Then the trial began.

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The walls of the chamber twisted, stretching outward into a vast, cavernous space filled with staircases that spiraled endlessly into darkness. The stairs were jagged and uneven, crumbling at the edges, as though daring anyone foolish enough to climb them.

Selene took a cautious step toward the first stair. "We’re climbing the Pyramid, aren’t we?"

"Looks that way," Alastor muttered, his eyes narrowing. "And something tells me it’s not going to play fair."

Without warning, the stairs shifted—as though sensing Selene’s presence—and the path ahead fractured into impossible directions, each stair leading to a different outcome. Some stairs vanished mid-air, ending in dark voids, while others led to dizzying spirals that looped back on themselves endlessly. The entire trial was designed to confuse, mislead, and break them.

"Death isn’t the end," Selene whispered, her gaze sweeping the shifting paths. "It’s the beginning."

Alastor felt the truth of her words settle over him like a cold hand gripping his heart. The Pyramid’s trials were designed to push them past their limits, to force them to die and be reborn, again and again, until only fragments of who they once were remained. This wasn’t just a test of skill—it was a test of identity. To ascend meant to lose yourself. To forget. To become something new—something dangerous.

Alastor flexed his hand, feeling the hum of the scarab’s power just beneath his skin. It wanted him to use it, to shift the flow of time and find the right path. But the scarab demanded a price every time it bent the rules—and Alastor wasn’t sure how much more he could afford to lose.

"Stay close," he warned, glancing at Selene. "The Pyramid’s going to try to separate us."

Selene gave him a grim smile. "Don’t worry. I’ve got your back this time."

They took the first step together, and the world around them shifted violently. The stairs twisted underfoot, gravity pulling them in strange directions, as though the Pyramid was alive—a vast, sentient labyrinth determined to break their will.

Each step seemed to pull memories from Alastor’s mind—fragments of old lives, echoes of forgotten deaths. He saw himself lying in pools of blood, felt the sharp sting of betrayal, and tasted the bitterness of defeat. These weren’t just memories—they were reminders. Every step was a death. Every death was a step.

"How many times have we done this?" Selene asked, her voice strained as they climbed.

"Too many," Alastor muttered, his grip tightening on the railing as the stairs crumbled beneath their feet. "But this time is different."

The staircases shifted again, narrowing into razor-thin paths suspended over a bottomless void. Alastor’s pulse quickened as he fought to maintain his balance, the hum of the scarab growing louder, begging to be used. The temptation to bend time, to find an easier route, gnawed at him.

But Selene was watching him closely, her expression sharp. "Don’t use it yet," she warned, as if sensing his thoughts. "The Pyramid feeds on desperation. It wants you to give in."

Alastor gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay in the moment. They continued climbing, step by agonizing step, the walls around them whispering of betrayal, loss, and endless death. The higher they climbed, the heavier the memories became, pressing down on them like invisible chains.

Alastor could feel the weight of every failure, every life lost to the loop. He could feel the abyss waiting for him at the top—a place where identity shattered, and only those who embraced oblivion could survive.

"To ascend," the voice echoed again, rumbling through the stairwell, "you must embrace the abyss."

Selene shot him a grim look. "This is more than just a trial. It’s the Pyramid’s way of breaking us."

Alastor nodded. "We climb, we forget, and the loop tightens. That’s how it keeps us trapped."

"But not this time," Selene whispered fiercely. "This time, we make it to the top—together."

Alastor glanced at her, and for a moment, he saw something familiar in her violet eyes—hope. Fragile, but real.

"We’re not just climbing to survive," he said, gripping the edge of the next stair. "We’re climbing to destroy this place."

They continued upward, defying the gravity-defying twists and crumbling paths, moving toward the source of the Pyramid’s power. The stairwell seemed endless, but Alastor knew—one way or another, they were going to reach the top.

Even if it killed them both.