The underbelly of Skylance City was a stark contrast to the shimmering towers above. Down here, where the city's forgotten infrastructure stretched endlessly beneath the streets, there was only darkness, decay, and the weight of history pressing down on every surface. The deeper Alastor and Nyx ventured, the more the world above seemed like a distant dream—unreachable, unreal.

Alastor’s breath came in measured intervals, his nerves thrumming with anticipation. He wasn’t unfamiliar with dark places or hidden secrets, but this was different. The further they descended, the more he could feel the invisible pull of something ancient—something far older than Skylance City, older than any modern civilization. The Pyramid's influence ran deeper than he’d ever realized, its roots entangled with the very foundation of the world around him.

Beside him, Nyx moved with a silent grace, her dark clothing blending seamlessly with the shadows. Her expertise as an assassin showed in every calculated step, her eyes scanning the path ahead, watching for traps, watching for anything that might give away their location. Despite the tension between them, Nyx had proven herself invaluable. She knew this part of the city better than anyone, and she was his only guide to the Assassination Pyramid's hidden depths.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Alastor asked, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.

Nyx glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "I’ve led you this far, haven’t I? Trust me, Creed, the Pyramid’s first trial lies just ahead. You’ll know it when you see it."

The tunnels around them were damp and cold, the occasional drip of water echoing through the narrow passageways. The air smelled of mildew and ancient stone, like they were walking through a tomb that had been sealed for centuries. In a way, they were.

After several minutes of walking in silence, they finally reached it: a massive set of stone doors, towering and imposing, carved with intricate hieroglyphs and symbols. The air in the room felt heavier, thick with the weight of something sacred—or something cursed. The symbols on the door were unmistakable to Alastor now—Anubis, the Egyptian god of death and mummification, stood at the center, his jackal-headed figure looming over the entrance like a guardian of the underworld.

Nyx ran her hand lightly over the carvings, her fingers tracing the lines of the hieroglyphs. "This is it," she murmured. "The first trial."

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to the doors, studying the symbols etched into the stone. The hieroglyphs were familiar, but different. These weren’t just words—they were instructions, layered in meaning, guiding those who sought to enter deeper into the Pyramid’s secrets. And at the center of it all was Anubis, watching, waiting.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Anubis," Alastor muttered, more to himself than to Nyx. "The gatekeeper of the dead."

Nyx nodded. "The Pyramid reveres him. Every assassin who enters these trials faces death in one form or another. Anubis decides who passes through and who doesn’t."

Alastor felt a chill run down his spine as he stared into the cold, unmoving eyes of Anubis’s stone figure. The symbolism was clear: to ascend the ranks of the Pyramid, he would have to face death head-on. These trials weren’t just about skill or knowledge—they were about confronting mortality, the fear of the unknown, and the inevitability of the end.

"Do you know what’s inside?" Alastor asked, his voice steady despite the growing tension.

"I know what the legends say," Nyx replied, stepping back from the door. "But each trial is different. Tailored to the one who enters. What you’ll face, only the Pyramid knows."

Alastor’s jaw tightened. Of course it would be. The Pyramid wasn’t going to make this easy. The hieroglyphs, the symbols, the trials—they were all part of a much larger test. And only those who truly understood the nature of life and death could pass through unscathed.

Without hesitation, Nyx reached into her coat and pulled out a small, ornate dagger. It was an ancient relic, the blade etched with more hieroglyphs, its hilt wrapped in leather that looked worn with age. She stepped forward and placed the tip of the dagger into a small, circular indentation at the center of the door.

With a deep, resonating click, the stone doors began to tremble, grinding against the floor as they slowly opened, revealing the darkness beyond.

The air that rushed out from the opening was cold and stale, like the breath of a tomb that had been sealed for centuries. Alastor could feel the presence of something ancient lurking just beyond the threshold, watching, waiting for him to enter.

He took a deep breath, his mind focused, his heart steady. This was what he had come for. The first trial of the Assassination Pyramid—the path that would lead him deeper into its mysteries, closer to the power and knowledge he sought. But this trial would also test him in ways he couldn’t predict, ways that would push him to his limits and beyond.

Nyx stepped aside, giving him a small, almost wicked smile. "After you."

Alastor didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the dark tunnel that lay beyond the stone doors. As he did, the symbols on the walls began to glow faintly, casting eerie, golden light over the rough stone surface. The hieroglyphs were everywhere—etched into the very fabric of the tunnel, telling stories of gods and men, of death and rebirth.

Alastor’s breath slowed as he walked further into the tunnel, the weight of the Pyramid pressing down on him like a physical force. There was no turning back now. He was on the path. And the only way forward was through the darkness.

Behind him, the stone doors ground shut with a heavy thud, sealing him inside.