image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

Graybeard, a master of stealth, skillfully maneuvered through the shadows, concealing his presence behind the towering stalactites and stalagmites that adorned the cavernous room. Before his eyes, an army of Imps stood united, led by a formidable demon whose mere presence commanded awe.

"Alpos..." Graybeard whispered under his breath, his gaze fixed upon the demon general who orchestrated the forces before him.

In the midst of the demonic horde, an infernal contraption loomed, its purpose unfamiliar to Graybeard. It was a colossal machinery, equipped with a cannon-like weapon aimed directly at a massive metal door fortified with potent runic magic.

"Activate the device!" Alpos commanded.

The Impions, exerting control over the undead labor they had brought along, obeyed the order and set the infernal machine in motion. From its depths, waves of infernal energy emanated, swirling around the tip of the cannon.

A torrent of hellfire erupted from the device, directed at the door—a formidable drill powered by demonic energies, relentlessly tearing through the runic defenses.

Graybeard, unable to tear his eyes away from the destructive force, murmured, "This is not good..."

With utmost caution, Graybeard stealthily slipped out of the room, retracing his steps as quietly as he had entered.

Upon exiting, Graybeard found himself in an empty chamber, adorned only with shimmering quartz hanging from the ceiling. Letting out a soft exhale, he gazed up at the door, his heart still pounding.

"That was a close one..." he mused to himself, realizing the narrowness of his escape.

Just then, Mila appeared from across the hall, sprinting along a paved path to catch up with him.

Wearing a frustrated expression, Graybeard sighed deeply and asked, "Why are you here?"

Mila, finally catching up with Graybeard, released a weary breath as she struggled to catch her breath.

"I couldn't wait. Not after what it revealed to me," she gasped.

"What it told you?" Graybeard inquired, unsure of what Mila was suggesting.

Pulling out the jar she had cautiously stowed in her backpack, Mila showed Graybeard the source of her concern.

"The demon, Ifrit. It spoke to me, warning me that your life is in peril."

"What? Didn't I explicitly tell you not to keep that cursed thing, Mila?" Graybeard spoke, frustration evident in his voice.

"I know, but... If it's willing to help me protect you, then perhaps it's on our side," Mila reasoned, her determination unwavering.

Graybeard cast a suspicious glance at the jar, his gaze fixated on the swirling black shadows contained within. The seal on the jar remained intact, preserving the mysterious presence within.

"What is your name?" Graybeard questioned the being within the jar, his voice laced with caution.

"Mila, only you can hear me. Convey my message. I am Ifrit," a voice echoed softly from the confines of the jar.

Mila's gaze locked with Graybeard's, a shared intensity in their eyes.

"He claims his name is Ifrit," Mila relayed, her voice filled with both apprehension and curiosity.

"Why won't he speak directly, then?" Graybeard questioned, his skepticism evident.

Mila paused, contemplating the message she had received. "According to Ifrit, only I can hear him. It seems to be connected to my interaction with the jar."

Graybeard rubbed his eyes wearily, his exhaustion evident on his face. He sighed and spoke with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "I can't believe we find ourselves conversing with a demon, especially one as powerful as Ifrit. How did we even get entangled in this?"

"Ifrit insists that you touch the jar," Mila relayed. "He says that only those who touch it can hear his voice."

Graybeard hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. As long as the seal remains intact, I suppose there's no harm in trying."

Reaching out, Graybeard placed his hand on the jar, accepting it from Mila. As his hand made contact, the darkness within the jar seemed to intensify slightly, and Ifrit's voice resonated in both their minds.

"I am Ifrit, Demon of Flames," Ifrit proclaimed once more.

"Yes, yes, we've established that," Graybeard grumbled. "Now answer me: How did you end up confined within this jar?"

Ifrit's response was defiant. "I see no reason to disclose that information to you."

"Fine," Graybeard responded with frustration. "In that case, I see no reason for us to continue entertaining your presence." He turned to Mila. "Mila, take the jar back to where you found it."

Mila hesitated, torn between curiosity and Graybeard's stern command. "But..."

"Do it," Graybeard insisted firmly. "Having its voice lingering in our minds will bring us no good."

"No, no! Wait a minute!" Ifrit pleaded urgently. "I can be of assistance to you!"

Graybeard scoffed, his skepticism unabated. "Help us? Why should we trust anything you say?"

Ifrit's tone grew more earnest. "Listen, I may be a demon, and I understand your concern. But I despise Alpos! That wretched fiend is the reason why I've been locked away in this accursed jar for the past century. I was deceived! All I desire is revenge against him for his betrayal."

Graybeard's skepticism persisted. "And you expect us to simply take your word for it? How do we know that the moment we release this seal, you won't turn on us and bring harm?"

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Ifrit's voice dripped with frustration. "Releasing me is not as simple as that! If it were, I would have done it myself long ago!"

Graybeard crossed his arms, his gaze piercing. "Then what is it that you want from us?"

"I know of a secret passage that will lead you directly to the final floor," Ifrit revealed urgently. "But in exchange, I ask that you use the bow to free me from this wretched prison."

"A secret passage?" Mila questioned skeptically.

"It does sound suspicious," Graybeard added, his wariness apparent.

Ifrit's voice carried a hint of desperation. "Please, trust me. We don't have much time. Alpos is on his way to claim the bow, and I'm certain he intends to use it to kill me the moment he obtains it. I am not your enemy."

Graybeard contemplated the situation, then turned to Mila for her opinion. "What do you think?"

Mila pondered for a moment, considering their predicament. "If Alpos is after the bow, it can only mean one thing. The Demon God has sent him to eliminate Ifrit."

"But why would they seek to kill one of their own?" She questioned.

"Ifrit possesses immense power, strong enough to challenge the Demon God. I believe their goal is to eliminate him and absorb his mana, gaining his strength and taking possession of the bow," Graybeard explained.

"If that's the case then we must stop them."

Graybeard nodded in agreement. "Indeed, but we can't confront them head-on. The next room is teeming with Alpos's minions—an entire army awaits us and certain death. We won't stand a chance against them."

Graybeard's eyes settled on the jar, his resolve hardening. "Tell us, Ifrit, where is this secret entrance you speak of?"

"I will guide you, but only if you agree to my terms,"

Graybeard exchanged a final glance with Mila, a silent agreement passing between them. Mila shrugged, acknowledging that they had little choice but to proceed.

"We're running out of time," Ifrit urged, the urgency in his voice palpable.

Graybeard sighed, realizing they had to make a decision. "Fine, Ifrit. We agree to your terms. Show us the way."

Ifrit's voice carried a hint of satisfaction. "Very well. Now, I need you to return to the very first floor."

"The first floor?" Mila questioned, surprised.

"No time for questions," Ifrit pressed impatiently. "Follow my instructions!"

Graybeard nodded, recognizing the urgency in Ifrit's words. "He's right, Mila. We can't afford to waste any more time. Let's do as he commands."

Mila nodded in agreement, her determination to retrieve the bow settling in. "You're right. We have no other choice. Let's get going."

With their resolve firm, Graybeard and Mila retraced their steps, making their way back to the first floor under Ifrit's guidance, uncertain of what awaited them and whether they could trust the demon's promises.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]

The two hurriedly made their way back to the first floor, moving swiftly through each chamber with vigilant haste, desperate to reach their destination in time. As they reached the first floor, Graybeard and Mila retrieved the jar from the backpack.

"Where is the passage?" Graybeard asked anxiously.

"Go to the center. Hurry, time is running out," Ifrit directed, his urgency evident.

The duo hastened toward the center of the room, where a pedestal awaited them.

"Place me back onto the pedestal," Ifrit commanded.

Following his instructions, Graybeard and Mila carefully positioned the jar atop the pedestal once again.

"Good," Ifrit acknowledged. "Now, rotate me clockwise three times, then push down on the pedestal with all your strength."

Mila stepped forward to carry out Ifrit's bidding, but Graybeard swiftly took her place, blocking her path.

"No, Mila. I won't let you do this," Graybeard declared firmly, his protective instincts kicking in.

Mila looked at him with a mix of surprise and concern. "Graybeard, we need to follow his instructions. We don't have much time."

"I won't risk your safety," Graybeard insisted, his gaze unwavering.

Ifrit's voice echoed from the jar. "Graybeard, listen to me. Only Mila can release me. Trust her, and trust in my intentions."

Graybeard hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright, Mila. Ifrit seems certain that you're the one who must do this. But be careful."

Mila nodded, appreciating Graybeard's concern. With a determined yet cautious expression, she stepped forward to fulfill Ifrit's instructions, ready to embrace the unknown and face whatever challenges awaited them beyond the passage.

Mila rotated the jar three times as instructed, exerting all of their strength to push down on the pedestal. Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to tremble, and a low rumbling filled the chamber. To their astonishment, a spiral staircase emerged from the floor, extending downward into the depths below.

"What on earth?" Graybeard muttered, his voice drowned out by the rumbling vibrations.

"The staircase won't remain open for long. We must hurry," Ifrit's urgent voice echoed from within the jar.

Graybeard carefully picked up the jar from the pedestal, ensuring its safety, as he and Mila wasted no time venturing into the newly revealed gap in the ground. With trepidation and determination, they descended the spiral staircase, enveloped by an eerie darkness.

Within the depths of the darkness, the only source of light emanated from the jar they clutched before them. Its dark, ominous glow illuminated their path forward, casting elongated shadows along the staircase walls. The journey continued in silence, each step fueling a mix of anticipation and unease as they ventured into the unknown depths, guided by the faint light from the mysterious jar.

image [https://i.imgur.com/lhqCDcB.png]

The journey through the cavernous depths was a painstaking one, with Graybeard and Mila carefully navigating the staircase for hours on end.

Finally reaching the bottom of the spiral staircase, Graybeard and Mila found themselves surrounded by darkness within the cave.

Ifrit spoke, informing them through his dark whispers, "This is the 11th floor... Behind the grand door before us lies what you seek: The Rune Bow."

Suddenly, the room began to illuminate. Small, ethereal wisps swirled and danced in the air, filling the space with echoes of joy and laughter. In face of such animosity, Graybeard couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine.

The quartz embedded in the walls acted as a radiant light source, casting its glow throughout the room. The wisps, drawn to the quartz, bestowed their powers upon it, allowing it to shine brightly.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Mila asked, "What are those?"

"They are called Wisps," replied Ifrit.

Mila sought clarification, "Wisps? What exactly are they?"

Graybeard interjected, providing an answer, "They are magical creatures, akin to elves and fairies. However, unlike those creatures, Wisps are purely composed of magic and lack a tangible form."

Ifrit chimed in, contradicting Graybeard's explanation, "That's only partly true, for these creatures are the bane of magic."

Graybeard's eyes widened in surprise at Ifrit's statement.

"What do you mean?" Graybeard questioned.

The wisps before you are not mere magical beings but creations of the God of Darkness himself. They embody the essence of malevolence and serve as the antithesis of magic—the wisps of evil and destruction.

The chamber filled with an eerie glow as the wisps emitted dark hues, their laughter echoing through the air.

A sense of unease enveloped Graybeard, causing him to mumble under his breath, "I can't shake this ominous feeling." His gaze remained fixed on the ethereal wisps swirling above. "What course of action should we take now?"

Ifrit's voice carried a weight of urgency as he responded, "Our only path forward is to unlock the final gate. I will guide you through the process, but I must warn you that failure will surely result in your demise..."