It had been an excruciatingly long night, but with only a few hours left until dawn, the end of their great adventure was in sight. The faint glow of a bonfire provided warmth for Yuria and Hyoh, who had spent the entire night chatting. Though not part of the exam, Yuria couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster they were up against. If the mountain was inhabited by tier S monsters, the casualties could be staggering. It was inconceivable that the cadets would emerge unscathed. They would have to work together, setting aside their egos for the sake of mutual success. Nothing was impossible, as they had proven when they were in prison.

Hyoh informed Yuria that every hermitage they encountered on their journey required them to fight undead creatures. The fifth hermitage was guarded by The Wight, along with Skeleton troops for the Physical test, and the Wraith for the Spiritual test. The fourth hermitage was protected by The Lich, who commanded an army of Death Knights and Banshees. The third hermitage was guarded by The Dark Bishop with an army of Demons and Djinns. The second hermitage was guarded by The Sun Priest and Ifrit, while the first hermitage was guarded by the Witch King and the Bone Dragon.

Despite encountering many other monsters on Mount Tartaros, no one had been able to break through the second hermitage. In fact, no matter how many times they defeated the guards in each hermitage, the undead creatures would simply rise again. This unending struggle had caused many cadets to falter. However, this was not surprising, as the current worst generation test was different from the previous ones, which only involved physical exams without venturing into the demon mountain.

Hyoh also mentioned that if they entered the hermitages politely, with or without taking advice from Groguk the Shaman, they wouldn't have to fight the evil creatures and could simply wait until dawn. However, with the raging winds still thrashing through the forest, it means they must bring war with them rather than walk the path of peace without taking risks. Moreover, according to one of the Watchers who spoke to Hyoh, a crazy cadet had disrupted everything by recklessly killing the gatekeeper of the demon mountain [Groguk].

Hyoh stated that "The only option they had was to wait until dawn or..."

Yuria interjected, "Or...?" raising an eyebrow.

Hyoh hesitated for a moment, reluctant to voice his thoughts as it seemed unlikely. He had considered the cadets who entered the third hermitage alone, the odds were one in one hundred. He retracted his words and replied, "Nothing. They can only wait for dawn."

Yuria nodded slowly, disappointed that Hyoh seemed to be withholding something. "I thought Ifrit was the one who ruled this island, not the Witch King," she said.

"It's a long story," Hyoh explained. "In the past, Ifrit controlled this island, but after the Netherworld Army conquered most of the northern regions of the Lorboas archipelago, including Seymourh, Malkaya, Elvenweald, and more, they set their sights on the Malazen continent. Given the current state of Malazen, I negotiated with one of their leaders, the Witch King of Vorgosh."

Yuria asked, "What happened after you negotiated? They could have attacked Malazen in secret."

Hyoh stood up and picked up some nearby firewood, adding it to the dwindling bonfire to keep it burning. Yuria thought he didn't want to discuss it further, but when he sat back down on the rocks, he eagerly continued with his story. "I gave them this island as their base to keep an eye on Malazen. I also set up a hermitage and give them offerings once a week so that monsters and evil spirits can enjoy living there."

Yuria broke a piece of wood in half and tossed it into the bonfire. "So that's why you're called Hyoh the Soul Keeper?"

"Yes," Hyoh confirmed. "If I didn't do all of this, it's possible that apart from Chthonian—the Netherworld Army, the monsters, and the egregors of the evil spirits of this island could invade the peninsula. That's the worst-case scenario because as you know, Malazen is currently fragile and divided into factions."

Yuria hummed as she glanced at the log in her hand, then hesitated just before breaking it. She recognized the nobility of Hyoh's efforts to save Malazen alone, without the help of the Malazenians. However, she doubted that any factions would be able to form an alliance to defeat The Witch King and his army, or at least make a treaty with them, even if they were to attack.

Hyoh continued, "Before your generation, I only administered the physical exam and forbade your seniors from going to the mountain. However, many of them did not heed my warning. They looted graves, played in the hermitages, and hunted monsters there."

Yuria asked, "What happened next?"

"That made The Witch King angry," Hyoh explained. "He raised an undead army to attack the cadets. When I met him at the mountaintop, he told me that it was better to give him a human soul than an offering."

Hyoh recalled the Swordmaster's words about the new curriculum and concluded, "When Swordmaster Theodin created a hellish curriculum for your generation, I had no choice but to implement a second spiritual exam or throw you guys to the demon mountain for the harsh words. Therefore, while you are in the fortress, you will always be trained in cultivation."

Yuria and Hyoh stood in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought about the fate of the cadets who were currently undergoing the life-and-death test. She threw the logs she held into the bonfire, signaling the end of their conversation. She rubbed her dusty hands together and held them close to the fire, seeking warmth on this bitterly cold night.

The instructors' final exam had been challenging, especially for a new cadet still struggling to overcome the tragedy of ten years ago. Nevertheless, she wouldn't complain. Without this academy, she might have perished without anyone noticing. She had grown accustomed to approaching death, having tasted the bitterness of life like a Flask of Nightmare, including those who fought against the undead army.

The howling wind and crackling flames of the bonfire were the only sounds they heard. Yuria's mind drifted to memories of the past ten years and the hardships she had endured at the academy. She had lost friends and witnessed unspeakable horrors, yet here she was, still standing, still fighting.

Hyoh broke the silence, "The Swordmaster believes that this new curriculum will better prepare the cadets for the challenges they may face in the future."

Yuria looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. "Do you believe that, Instructor?"

"I do," he replied. "But I also know that it comes with a cost. We are asking these young cadets to face death head-on, to confront their own mortality. It's a heavy burden to bear."

“If they were able to finish it apart from waiting until dawn, maybe only a miracle would be able to save them, I guess...”

“Yeah, you're right Yuria. Apart from waiting until dawn, only a miracle can save them.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a colony of crows flying across the sky toward Mount Tartaros. The sight gave Yuria a sense of foreboding as if the birds were an omen of the danger that lay ahead. She knew that the fate of the continent rested on their shoulders and that the outcome of this test would have a significant impact on the future.

*

Deep within the dense forest that cloaks the mountain and reachable only by a treacherous path that winds its way up the steep cliffs of Tartaros, lies the last hermitage. It is situated on the highest peak of the range, exuding a mystical aura and enveloped in an eerie, ominous ambiance. The building itself is an abstract structure made of skulls, blood, wood, and stone, lacking a roof but boasting simple furnishings. The interior is adorned with elaborate carvings and intricate murals depicting the legends of demons versus gods, with many inscriptions bearing people's names. Flickering skull candles dimly light the hermitage, casting a frightening, horror-filled glow amidst the surrounding darkness.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The hermitage was once a temple dedicated to Emperor Kaliyuga, who had devoted his life to studying and mastering the arcane arts. Known as the Dark Sage, the Emperor was said to possess great knowledge of the Dawn Era and was highly revered by those who sought his counsel. He was a solitary figure who lived a life of meditation and contemplation, spending his days in deep study and communion with the avatars of the gods in their realm that flowed through the mountaintop. Until now, this place was also said to be guarded by Ifrit, one of the powerful demons or djinns who was loyal to the Dark Sage and fiercely protected the sanctity of his temple. It was a place that held the key to unlocking ancient secrets and hidden knowledge, but also a place that demanded great respect and caution from those who sought to enter its sacred halls.

In the center of the hermitage stands a throne, guarded by ghouls and ogres who kneel before the figure seated upon it. Several succubi recline at the figure's feet, hinting at his identity as the Lord of Tartaros. Behind him, an undead dragon, stripped of flesh and skin, serves as his pet and protector - the Bone Dragon. The figure is the guardian of the first hermitage and the Lord of Mount Tartaros: the Witch King of Vorgosh.

The Witch King donned the dark knight armor, an imposing suit of blackened metal that seemed to absorb all light. Intricate carvings and ornate designs adorned the armor, glinting menacingly in the dim light. His helmet was shaped like a snarling demon, with piercing red eyes that glowed in the dark. His muscular frame filled out the armor with a powerful presence, and every move he made seemed imbued with a sinister purpose. His gauntlets were adorned with wicked-looking spikes, and he carried two weapons; a Malkaya Blade hung at his waist, and his greatsword wrapped in the soul of destruction was thrust into the ground, its edge glinting coldly in the faint light. His entire presence exuded an aura of malevolence, making it clear to all who saw him that he was not to be trifled with.

The harpies rounded up the cadets they had abducted and brought them before the Witch King. Lightning flashes across the black sky every few seconds, followed by a booming sound that awakens the cadets and makes the ground tremble. The awakened cadets cowered in fear, realizing they were surrounded by monsters and unsure of what the vile creature would do to them.

The Witch King simply looked down upon them, accompanied by a misty woman who floated in the air. White smoke surrounded her, and clusters of Wisp orbited around her. The woman whispered into the Witch King's helmet, and the cadets felt as though a bad omen had befallen them, trembling and looking around with trepidation.

"Where are we?" asked one of the cadets.

"We're at the Tartaros Summit," replied another.

"Shh, don't make any noise or they'll come after you," warned the third.

"They're going to kill us, they're definitely going to kill us!" said the fourth, crouching, terror in his voice.

After whispering with the Witch King, the mist woman nodded and stepped forward toward the huddled and frightened cadets. "Don't be afraid, my children. I am not a ghost, but a powerful magician seeking eternal life through undeath. I am the Wispmother, and I am here on my master's orders to speak with you. This is our domain, so you must follow our orders or be banished to the Netherworld."

Feeling like prisoners in a court with no escape, the cadets were crestfallen and they had no choice but to comply. Several knelt forward, begging for mercy and promising never to return. "Oh, Wispmother, please give us a second chance!"

The Wispmother chuckled. "A second chance? Of course, but as the Undead!" After she spoke, she cast her transmogrification spell on one of the cadets, turning him into a monstrous creature and causing him to scream in agony. "From now on, you all must serve us like the previous cadets, crawling like beasts and being obedient!"

Wispmother's words took the cadets by surprise. Humans and monsters had never allied before, but in order to join the monster's cause, they had to become monsters themselves. The victim's eyes widened as he underwent a nightmare-inducing metamorphosis from Wispmother's spell. Strange bone growths pierced his skin, extending like spikes. Muscles bulged and wriggled, attempting to change shape, while his fingernails turned into sharp claws. His face cracked and split, revealing a twisted mouth with too many rows of bloodied, needle-like fangs.

The other cadets looked on in horror as the surrounding ghouls circled them, their eyes fixed on their prey. The ghouls walked on all fours, with disfigured bodies, ugly faces, and tongues sticking out. They had to survive by eating humans, and their bloodthirsty nature was evident from the blood and saliva on their mouths as they awaited Wispmother's command, poised to strike. The thought of having to eat their own comrades to survive as ghouls forever, with no way back, sent a chill down the cadets' spines.

Some of the cadets were so terrified that they wet themselves before fleeing, followed by other cowardly cadets. However, the ghouls were prepared to chase and grab those who tried to escape. The ghoul that caught them turned to Wispmother, awaiting further orders.

“Eat them alive!” commanded Wispmother.

The ghouls devoured the cadets in a matter of seconds, abusing them until they screamed for mercy, with blood covering their dismembered bodies. This sad incident served as a lesson for the cadets who had considered running. They trembled at the sight of their comrades who died in such a miserable way.

Then, Wispmother spoke in a high-pitched voice to the remaining cadets, "Believe me, being a slave to serve us forever is much better than being banished to the Netherworld. If you become ghouls and evolve to a certain degree, we will honor you by inscribing your names in our domain instead of letting you be forgotten forever. Now, give us your miserable lives and join our cause!"

"No! Noooo...!" bellowed a cadet whose sanity was beginning to deteriorate. "I don't want to be a ghoul! Noooo...!"

One by one, the cadets were filled with confusion and despondency. They would rather die outright than become ghouls and live forever as mindless creatures!

Wispmother turned her gaze to the Witch King sitting on the altar, then shook her head slowly, signaling ‘no’ to the King of Tartaros.

The Witch King raised his right hand, taking aim at the gathered cadets. A black aura wrapped around his arm, as if he was casting a spell. In the Black Speech, he spoke, "Undukhu gimbatul ash nazg, ashrak nazgrukhul ugrat shakhbat!" His deep voice echoed throughout the first hermitage, making the cadets' skin crawl.

A giant gate appeared behind the cadets with a sinister sound. The gate was adorned with thousands of tormented human souls, and two grim reapers stood on both sides. The gate opened by itself, revealing only deep darkness.

The cadets, in a panicked frenzy, scattered in every direction, leaving behind a lone sleeper cadet on the ground. Dozens of black hands reached out from the gate, catching those who dared to flee. Some cadets tried to attack the Witch King but then died within the range of his dark aura, others risked jumping down the mountain recklessly, while the rest were ensnared by the black hands. The captured cadets could only scream and cry as they were forcibly dragged into the Netherworld gate. Eventually, all of them were caught, and the gate slammed shut, silencing the commotion.

It was believed that no cadets were left uncaught, but one cadet still lay fast asleep, undisturbed by the chaos around him. This unexpected turn of events stunned all the monsters in the first hermitage, including Wispmother and the Witch King, who exchanged a puzzled glance. Amidst the grim silence, some of the ghouls, ogres, and succubi, chuckled softly, before bursting out in raucous laughter at the sight of the vulnerable cadet lying defenseless on the ground.

The Witch King extended his hand and slid his wrist slightly to reopen the Gate of Vorgosh. Two long black arms descended, carrying the sleeping cadet into the realm of death, where he would rest forever. The cadet was engulfed in its grasp and disappeared into the darkness beyond their sight as the gate slowly closed.

The ghouls and ogres cheered with joy, while the succubi returned to the side of the Witch King, embracing him. Wispmother let out an evil laugh, knowing that anyone who entered the Netherworld would never return to the Runeverse. They celebrated the triumph of Tartaros for a few seconds, until suddenly...

A loud banging sound erupted from inside the Gate of Vorgosh, startling all the monsters. The ones who had been laughing earlier rushed toward the gate due to the loud noise. The tension on the mountain peak became palpable for a moment. Now, it was the monsters' turn to be terrorized, wondering who could possibly dare to seek trouble with the powerful Witch King.

Shortly after, a deafening sound of impacts shook the colossal gate. The hard punches launched slowly turned into a rapid barrage of blows that threatened to tear down the gate.

The Bone Dragon, which had been resting, rose to its feet and spewed forth a dark fire into the sky as a signal that disaster was imminent. The dark flames mixed with the overcast clouds, raising thunder as an emergency warning.

The ghouls stood guard around the giant gate, ready to attack whoever was behind it when it opened. The ogre troupe prepared their maces and guarded the Witch King, who rose from his throne and removed the succubi from his feet. He wanted to lift his greatsword but instead drew the cursed sword from his waist, the Malkaya Blade.

The Wispmother fixed her burning fury on the gate and began weaving her hands in intricate patterns while chanting in a low and guttural voice that sounded almost like a growl. The words were spoken in the dark and ancient tongue of Black Speech.

As she continued to chant, her body began to glow with ethereal light, and the wisps around her grew brighter and more intense, swirling around her in a frenzied dance. The air crackled with electricity, and the ground trembled beneath her feet. The spell she was weaving was one of immense power, capable of tearing down mountains and shattering the earth.

The sound of the blows was so powerful that it reverberated throughout the sky, drowning out the thunderous roar. In this uncertainty, the Witch King could only wait restlessly, listening to the loud thumping sound that shook his soul and armor. It was the first time anything had been able to affect the Gate of Vorgosh in such a way.

The thud of the blows grew louder and louder, like a heartbeat about to burst. One hit... Two hits... Three hits... Four hits... And then...