Christopher woke up startled, jolted from his sleep by the sound of falling rain.

His eyes scanned the inside of the small cave he and Jules had cleared out the day before. Inside it, they had found two ghouls feasting on something Jules had called a festering dog. The poor thing had no legs, slimy skin, and a triangular, oversized head. Not only was it grotesquely pitiful, but it also bore no resemblance to a dog whatsoever.

Despite his injuries, Jules had made quick work of the two terrors. Once they were dispatched, the pair carried their bodies out of the cave and threw them onto the fluorescent blue lake.

Getting rid of the bodies had been easy enough; cleaning up the blood inside the cave, however, had been a different story. Jules was worried about the scent of blood attracting other nearby terrors, and Christopher shared his concern. They had yet to meet the Page Devourers Lisa had warned them about, and neither wanted to do so.

Even after getting rid of the smell, they were still worried by using their arms to shovel dirt into the cave. Their clothes reeked of blood, and they didn’t dare to try and wash themselves in the lake.

Christopher’s eyes found Jules near the cave entrance, his back against the cold stone. He was supposed to be standing guard but seemed to have fallen asleep. Christopher didn’t judge him.

The bright blue light coming from the outside of the cave illuminated the right side of Jules's face, revealing a mess of mangled flesh and wounds. Not even his hair had escaped intact–and his head was now covered in bald spots.

Once again, a tinge of guilt pierced Christopher’s heart, but he rapidly steeled himself with renewed resolve. He had done what he needed to survive. No matter how much he had come to enjoy Jules’ company, and no matter how grateful he was for his guidance and the times he had saved him, his own survival was more important.

As long as I live, there’s hope for Christine, he convinced himself, despite his guilty heart.

Christopher stood up and silently approached the entrance, being extra careful not to disturb the exhausted boy. He peeked outside and watched the moss-covered natural walls, mushroom trees, and bright blue lake. Strangely, there was no rain anywhere. He wondered where the sound was coming from. It was definitely above them.

For a moment, he almost thought about going out and searching for it, but naturally, he decided against it. He and Jules had decided to wait for the Prelude inside the cave. They had enough rations to keep their stomachs full for at least another six days; there was no reason to head out. Also, according to their calculations, the Prelude should start in the next few hours–it was better to save their strength before it started.

The Prelude… he wondered, lost in deep thought, while rubbing his fingers on the hidden blade mounted on his wrist. Now that the adrenaline of their last confrontation had disappeared, he grew increasingly anxious.

There would be others at the Prelude, both terrors and drafted, and he wasn’t sure which ones he feared the most. As far as he understood, the goal of the Prelude was to put a bunch of drafted together and watch them survive, or at the very least, watch them struggle to survive.

If the Labyrinth had a conscience, it had to be wicked. Only an evil, twisted mind could create a place like this.

He mentally summoned the bright runes and went over his stats.

[Race]: Human

[Rank]: Drafted

[Synopsis]: Lazarus

[Stats]:

Breath: 10 Might: 10 Grace: 12 Zeal: 12

Enigma: 12 Tome: 13 Blood: 14 Integrity: 1

[Breathless Curse]: You’ve lost your breath.

[Burdens]: Resilient Soul, Breathless’ Touch, Minor Blessing of the Breathless One.

Not much had changed since he checked his runes on the second floor just a few days ago. The only difference was his improved Grace stat, now boosted with the additional two points he had invested earlier.

It would be nice for the runes to display my equipped pages, he thought. Currently, the only way he had to know which pages were equipped was to check his Tale.

Just as he came up with the idea, a new set of runes appeared below his stats.

Skills:

[Soulbound]

[Name]: Tainted Son of Hor (Unique)

[Type]: Breathing Art

[Rank]: Drafted

[Hor’s Tainted Bloodline] (Innate): Draw upon the Tainted Son of Hor’s physical prowess, enhancing your own.

[Feral Senses] (Drafted): See through his eyes, hear through his ears, smell through his nose, and feel through his touch. Beware, one day, his instincts may become yours.

–

[Name]: Crimson Proof (Common)

[Type]: Epistle

[Description]: Bestowed upon the inferiors by Ariadne herself, this sacred gift draws upon their very lifeblood to replenish the wounds of the flesh.

It serves as a testament to the power within mortal blood.

–

[Name]: Triangulation Beam (Common)

[Type]: Enigma

[Description]: It started as a joke—mixing magic with applied mathematics. Yet, soon, the Scholars of El-Durei realized its potential.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Their favorite shape was the triangle–a simple but perfectly balanced shape, ideal for channeling power.

That’s better, he thought.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much there. Crimson Proof was very useful but gave him no advantage during a fight. He calculated that Tainted Son of Hor would’ve given him an incredible boost to his battle power, but, unfortunately, he could only use Feral Senses.

The only redeeming skill he had was Triangulation Beam, but it was hard to use, and it didn’t deal as much damage as he had expected. Maybe he had to invest more free stats into his Enigma to increase its power.

All things considered, he only had one offensive ability and no defensive ones, except for Crimson Proof, which he categorized as a recovery ability.

Christopher felt that his synopsis should give him something more to work with. His eyes rested upon Breathless’ Touch. Now that he knew what taint was, he was almost willing to risk it. However, he wasn’t sure how strong that ability was. He had used it when facing the monstrous wolf, but it was hard to know what had caused the beast's demise was his Breathless’ Touch or the Dead Man’s Stake.

He was inclined to believe it was the latter.

Jules moved in his sleep, but Christopher was too distracted by the bright runes to notice.

“I’m sorry,” Jules said, his voice feeble. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry,” Christopher comforted him. “Nothing happened.”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. I was going over my current skills. Trying to prepare myself for what’s about to come,” he replied. “And you?”

Jules hesitated to answer, with a weird look on his face. It didn’t take Christopher long to realize why.

“Don’t be silly; I have more than enough strength to heal you,” he said, reading his thoughts.

He approached Jules and rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders before using Crimson Proof at full throttle.

Christopher’s own injuries were mostly healed; all that was left were light injuries and bone-deep exhaustion. Jules, however, was a different story. The boy had been reticent about letting him take care of his wounds, even after Christopher told him he would not drain himself too much and prioritize his own injuries first.

They sat in the same position for about an hour, with Christopher pausing only two times to catch a breath. He tried his best to heal the boy until he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Thank you,” Jules thanked him, watching as Christopher let his back fall into the stone floor, exhausted. After one hour of healing, most of the wounds on Jules's face were gone. Unfortunately, just as Christopher expected, his face was not back to the pristine skin it had been before. A mess of scars covered his face, and the cartilage around his nose was still damaged.

“I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do for now,” he apologized.

“It’s more than enough, trust me,” Jules replied, extending a friendly hand to help Christopher get back on his feet.

Christopher accepted his hand before searching for his backpack. He took out a water skin and enough dried meat for both of them, handing Jules half of it.

They chewed on the leather-textured meat for half an hour, pushing it down with plenty of water. Once they were finished, Christopher offered to stand guard while Jules rested.

“There’s no need,” the boy replied in a serious tone. “The Prelude shouldn’t take long, and I want to be as alert as possible.”

“Are you afraid?” Christopher asked, projecting his own emotions.

“No,” Jules immediately replied. “I refuse to be afraid.”

“Refuse?”

“Yes, I refuse,” he said, adamantly. “This place is nothing but despair and darkness, corrupting everything it touches. I won’t be corrupted. I won’t be tainted. I’ll be a light people can follow and guide them out of this place.”

Christopher took a moment to digest his words.

“You want to free the dwellers,” he realized. Jules replied with a nod, carefully measuring his words.

“Do you have a plan for the Prelude?” He finally asked.

Christopher shook his head.

“Make friends,” Jules advised him.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Make friends. Lots of them! Just be careful not to ally with a legacy. You might end up in a family war.”

“You speak almost as if you aren’t going to be there.”

“I will. But the Prelude area is quite big, no matter which floor we end up on. We might not see eachother until it is over.”

“We will,” Christopher said, earning a shy smile from the boy.

The following hours were spent waiting around, the threat of impending doom hovering above their heads. They didn’t talk much, afraid their noise would attract more terrors or, worse, the Paged Devourers that wandered the floor.

Suddenly, Christopher felt a shiver run through him, jolting him alert. It took him a moment to realize what had caused that reaction.

A set of bright runes had appeared in his vision, carrying the so-dreaded message.

Congratulations drafted. You’ve been selected to enter the Labyrinth.

Your Prelude will start soon. You’ll be moved to the Prelude area in 15 seconds.

Christopher hastily dismissed the runes and stared at Jules.

The boy, too, had been jolted awake, and his gaze was now staring at the empty void.

“So that’s what it looks like,” he whispered before turning his attention to Christopher.

“Only fifteen seconds,” Christopher said. He meant to sound brave, but his voice betrayed the true feelings of his heart.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jules said with a sweet smile.

Christopher peeked at the small countdown at the bottom of his vision.

15

“Don’t be afraid,” he repeated vehemently.

“I won’t!” Christopher lied.

13

“You can do this, Christopher!” Jules continued. “We can do this!”

“We can do this!” Christopher echoed Jules's words.

His heart raced, pounding so fast it felt like it might burst from his chest. Adrenaline surged through his veins, drowning out Jules's voice–he could barely hear it above the thunderous rhythm of his own blood.

7

“Good!” Jules grinned, finally convinced.

5

“Hey, Christopher, thank you again for saving me,” Jules said, causing Christopher’s heart to ache with regret.

3

“I hope I can pay that debt soon.”

1

“Jules, about what happened back there–”

0

The countdown reached the end as Christopher was about to finish his sentence. Jules and the cave disappeared, replaced by an impenetrable void. There was a brief silence before an ancient male voice washed over the void.

Welcome to your Prelude, Lazarus.

End of Book One,

ᚲᚢᚱᛋᛖᛞ