Inside the Maze, where the meeting had just been held, the walls were now so close to each other that those inside were moments away from being crushed. Regardless, they remained in their place, unconcerned.

The tribute, Minghui Li, who stood by the Cretan Oracle’s side, turned to his master. “What do you think, Father?”

The Cretan Oracle cleared his throat, and the maze walls lost momentum. In the next instant, the dead-end was back to its previous size.

“A seed of change is still a seed,” he replied mysteriously, speaking with the same rhythmic cadence as before.

The tribute nodded before asking. “Father, why not give them a different prelude?”

Even though Minghui Li’s eyes couldn't pierce the thick leather, he could feel a smile forming on his master’s face.

“How can a strong tree grow if it doesn’t face the storm?” the Cretan Oracle replied before breaking into hearty laughter that echoed across the chamber. "It's flood season… Trees need rain to grow.”

Minghui Li shrugged his shoulders. The Cretan Oracle's sense of humor was… unique. “Should we depart?”

“There's no need. You can go ahead and experiment with the scripture first.”

Minghui Li looked at the Cretan Oracle with surprise. They were always on a tight schedule and never stayed in the same place for too long.

“The current Elevation will take the whole month. We can afford to linger for a few more days", explained the Cretan Oracle.

A cold smirk appeared on Minghui Li’s face.

The old woman threading by the side trembled visibly upon hearing the Cretan Oracle’s words. Minghui Li watched her raise her hand to her mouth and tear the stitches open one by one, tainting the already red carpet with crimson blood.

Her mouth, chin, and hands were covered in blood, and some of the broken stitches were still embedded in her skin.

“No survivors?” She asked in a hoarse voice, one that had not spoken in a long time.

Minghui Li approached the woman slowly, resting his hand on his dagger.

“No survivors.” Confirmed the Cretan Oracle, with a hint of gentleness in his voice.

A lonely tear escaped between the woman’s stitched eyelids before she nodded toward the approaching tribute.

Minghui Li stopped in front of her and, with a quick slash, cut her throat. A splash of blood washed over the floor and the oracle that was threading beside her.

He put his ceremonial dagger back on his waist, not bothering to clean it. The remaining oracle kept threading, unbothered by the blood.

─ ᚲᚢᚱᛋᛖᛞ ─

Christopher stumbled across the rough terrain, supporting his weak body with a dried, twirly branch he used as a crutch.

He had wandered for four grueling days. Four days where he barely ate or drank, enduring the constant assaults of the mosquito clouds. Four days having barely slept, his mind in a continuous state of vigilance, alert at any sign of danger coming his way.

Every afternoon, as the sun started to set, he was forced to abandon his march and look for shelter. So far, he had slept on a narrow depression under a large rock, on a prickly, overgrown shrub, and even spent a whole night awake atop a tree after failing to find shelter before the daylight disappeared.

His condition had worsened. The festering infection on his arm spread, and even casting Crimson Proof twice a day failed to slow it down. His arm was now swollen and oozed orange pus all day. He lived with constant pain as if a burning hot liquid was searing his arm from the inside.

Christopher’s sight was also turning worse. The dancing shadows in his vision had grown in size, and his field of vision was now reduced to half. When Christopher closed his eyes every night, he feared waking up the following day surrounded only by darkness. If his vision kept deteriorating at this rate, he would soon become blind.

And yet, the most desperate moment he had faced so far was today.

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His face paled, and his shoulders dropped in disbelief. He tried stepping back, but his foot got caught in an exposed root, and he lost his balance, tripping backward. Christopher’s hands and back screamed in pain as they scratched against the stones and debris hidden on the waterlogged soil.

But not a noise of complaint escaped his open lips. Instead, a tear rolled down his left cheek as his eyes focused on the landscape ahead.

A vast, dark lake appeared in the distance, its surface perfectly still without a single mosquito in sight. The left margin had collapsed, revealing the nearby trees' entangled roots and creating a hollow cavity just underneath.

How is this possible? Christopher cried. He had followed the rising sun ever since he left the lake four days prior. “How? How? How?” He cried out, punching the floor in a fit of rage.

Christopher laid his back against the ground.

Fuck this. He cursed. How could I be so stupid?

It all made sense now. He did end up in purgatory. The monstrous creatures, the constant pain, and the cruel, hopeful message designed to keep him going until he couldn’t anymore.

His mind wavered, on the cusp of breaking forever. Whatever cruel god had doomed him to this fate could now watch him go insane.

He lay motionless for ten minutes, the mud slowly creeping inside his clothes, until a laugh escaped his lips.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just stay here and wait for death to come, even if it meant playing right by the rules. And it was not like his sentence was unjustified.

He was guilty. He deserved the punishment, and if this was all that was coming his way, it was a light sentence. Perhaps the god who cast him into this place had taken pity on him.

Christopher grabbed the Dead Man’s Stake, used his crutch to stand up, and watched the sky. There were still a couple more hours until noon, but the thought of a safe night inside that hole tempted him to stop traveling for today. After all, as long as that abomination didn’t come out of the lake, this should be one of the safest places on the bog.

He slowly walked towards the left bank, lost in contradicting thoughts. He secretly wished the monster would come out again tonight. If it could capture another one of those bison-like beasts and leave a part of it behind, he could finally satiate his hunger.

So far, he had not seen any of those large beasts. He knew they only came out at night and most likely spent their time grazing on the low, prickly bushes. He was certain of it, as he had previously found hoof marks and grazed bushes. But he wondered where they hid during the day. Given their size, it shouldn’t have been easy for them to go unnoticed.

Christopher suddenly froze, a frown on his face.

There was something wrong. The landscape was different than he remembered.

A colossal tree dominated the terrain behind the lake, towering over the horizon and dwarfing everything around it. It was so tall that he couldn’t even see its canopy as it disappeared inside the clouds.

Its trunk was unlike the gray, leafless trees he had encountered so far. Even at this distance, he could tell it was smooth and healthy hazelnut-colored, similar to the trees he remembered.

Christopher walked past the shelter's entrance and circled the lake. That tree was too prominent to be ignored!

He wasn’t sure how he had missed it the first time, but if people were around, they would surely gather near such a landmark. This was his chance. This was how he would find out whether he was in the purgatory.

Christopher hastened his steps without even noticing it, his body now fueled by newfound hope. He walked for hours on end, and as the sun set, he was forced to stop and look for shelter.

He glanced at the colossal tree one last time. It didn’t appear to be any closer.

But he wasn’t demotivated. Unable to find a proper hiding place, Christopher perched himself atop a tree.

A tumultuous night passed, and with it, rain started to fall again. Christopher didn’t complain. Instead, he opened his mouth and satisfied his thirst before resuming his march.

The soggy ground gradually turned into harsh, rocky terrain, forcing him to slow down his pace. The leafless trees remained unbothered by the jagged rocks sticking out of the earth.

It was a rough day. He was forced to climb up and down through the large rocks while his stomach growled with hunger, and his arm throbbed with pain.

As night approached, he found a horizontal depression between two rocks and squeezed his body inside it. He feared serpents and other reptiles would be sneaking between the crevices, but he hadn’t seen any during the day, so he decided to take his chance.

On the following morning, he woke up even more worn than usual. On the horizon, the tree was still as tall as ever, and he stubbornly resumed his march, dragging himself forward.

Christopher walked without stopping from the morning until noon, when he suddenly crouched down behind a rock.

Not far ahead, he spotted a vivid trail of dark blood splattered upon a mossy gray rock.

He waited for a long time. Long enough to be sure whatever had bled was no longer around. Slowly, he approached the trail and used one finger to touch the blood. It hadn’t dried yet.

There was a considerable amount of blood, and Christopher was sure that bleeding at such a rate, whatever creature had been injured had few chances of making it out alive.

Christopher raised his head and looked at the Colossal tree. He was still days, maybe weeks away from it. If he wanted to have a chance to survive the distance, he had to get food first. The earlier, the better.

He hesitated, torn between two choices.

One was to keep moving forward and hope for the best. The other was to follow the trail and take advantage of the situation. However, there was a chance the wounded creature was still alive. And even if not, whatever injured it would most likely be around.

His fingers tightened around the Dead Man’s Stake as he decided. He wouldn’t last much longer without food. It was time to go hunting.