Aric woke to the sound of his own ragged breath, echoing off the cold stone walls around him. His body felt heavy, his limbs sluggish and unresponsive, as if the very air was weighing him down. Darkness clung to every corner of the cave he found himself in, the dim light barely enough to make out the rough rock surfaces surrounding him.

His head pounded, a dull, aching throb that grew worse with every passing second. The oppressive energy pressing in on him was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was familiar, but only in the worst way—a dark echo of the malevolent force that he had felt in the Deadlands near the Crater. But this was worse, far worse. The energy pulsed, suffocating him, pushing against his very sense of self.

Am I inside the Crater? he thought, panic creeping up his spine. His last memory was of the military ceremony, of the third eye, the screams… and then nothing.

He forced himself to sit up, but the effort nearly overwhelmed him. His thoughts swirled in chaos, the pressure of the dark energy trying to worm its way into his mind, twisting his perceptions. It was as if the energy itself was alive, trying to pull him into madness, to unravel his mind piece by piece.

But as his vision cleared, he realized he wasn’t alone.

Joran was lying nearby, his muscular frame barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. His usually loud, brash demeanor was now silent, and his face, even in rest, looked strained. A little further away, Nya sat propped against the wall, her head bowed, eyes closed, her breathing steady but labored. Her usual sharp gaze and quiet intensity were absent, replaced with a calm exhaustion.

“Joran? Nya?” Aric’s voice cracked, his throat dry, but they stirred at the sound of their names.

Joran groaned, turning his head toward Aric. “You… you’re awake?” he asked, voice hoarse but familiar. His brow furrowed as he sat up, shaking off the remnants of whatever had weighed him down. “What the hell happened?”

Aric pushed himself up, his limbs trembling under the strain. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing around the cave. “The last thing I remember was the old man… his third eye…”

Nya’s voice cut through the silence. “He tried to teleport all of us. All the recruits.” She opened her eyes, the sharpness returning to them slowly as she spoke. “But I… I used my space distortion to interfere. I couldn’t stop it, not entirely, but I managed to change the course—for us.”

Aric blinked in confusion, his head spinning. “So… you changed where we were supposed to go?”

Nya nodded, though her movements were slow. “I couldn’t save everyone, but I redirected the pull for the three of us. I don’t know where the others ended up, but we… we’re here.” She gestured weakly to the cave around them.

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Joran frowned, cracking his knuckles as he shook off his lingering fatigue. “So, we dodged whatever nightmare that old man had planned, but where are we now? This place doesn’t feel any better.”

Aric took a deep breath, trying to focus his thoughts. The dark energy that surrounded them was still there, pressing against his mind like a constant weight, but it was different—more localized, more intense.

“I think we’re in the Crater,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or near it.”

Both Joran and Nya tensed at the mention of the Crater. The stories of the Prime Evil’s descent and the twisted horrors that lurked within the Crater were known to everyone. It was a place of death, corruption, and madness. No one who ventured near it ever returned.

Joran shook his head, his fists clenched. “Great. We escaped one nightmare, only to end up in another.”

Nya, despite her exhaustion, managed to sit up straighter. “It could be worse. At least we’re together. And we’re still alive.” Her gaze shifted to Aric. “But we need to figure out what’s going on. We can’t stay here.”

Aric nodded, but he couldn’t shake the overwhelming presence of the dark energy that surrounded them. The pressure had been constant since he had awoken, but now that he was more aware, it felt as if the very air in the cave was trying to consume them.

“I think this place… it’s trying to break us,” Aric said, his voice steadying. “The energy here—it’s like it’s alive. It’s pushing against my mind, trying to wear me down.”

Nya nodded, her expression grim. “It’s the Miasma. The energy that seeps from the Crater. It corrupts everything it touches. We’re going to have to move, or it’ll consume us.”

Joran groaned as he stood up fully, his large frame towering over the others. “Alright, then. Let’s get moving. We’ve got no time to sit around waiting for whatever horrors are lurking out there to find us.”

Aric agreed, but his body protested with every movement. He glanced around the cave once more, taking in their surroundings. There was only one way out—a narrow tunnel that led deeper into the darkness. The oppressive energy pulsed around them, but Aric knew they had no other choice. They couldn’t stay here.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way toward the tunnel. Joran followed closely, his strength giving Aric a sense of security. Nya brought up the rear, her sharp gaze scanning their surroundings, ready to use her abilities if needed.

The three of them moved cautiously through the cave, the darkness around them thick and suffocating. Every step felt heavy, as if the very ground beneath their feet resisted their movements. The oppressive energy of the Miasma grew stronger the further they ventured, and Aric could feel it gnawing at the edges of his mind, trying to pull him back into the abyss.

But he wouldn’t let it.

They pushed forward, the tunnel eventually opening up into a wide cavern. The moment they stepped into the open space, Aric’s heart stopped.

In the distance, a massive, twisted form loomed in the center of the cavern, an abomination of flesh and bone, its grotesque body writhing with the remains of countless human corpses. Limbs, heads, and broken bodies were fused together into a monstrosity unlike anything Aric had ever imagined. It was as if the bodies had been sewn together in a hideous patchwork, forming a massive, dragon-like shape.

The corpse dragon stirred, its massive body shifting as it let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the ground beneath their feet. The very air seemed to tremble in response to its presence.

And then, it roared.

The sound wasn’t just a roar—it was a soul-crushing wail, filled with the agony of every body that made up its form. The cries of the dead reverberated through the air, each voice filled with unimaginable pain and suffering.

Aric, Joran, and Nya all froze, their bodies tensed as the weight of the horror before them pressed down on their souls.

“What… is that?” Joran whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar.

Nya’s face was pale, her eyes wide as she stared at the monstrosity. “It’s… the corpses. It’s made from the bodies of the dead.”

Aric’s stomach twisted as the realization hit him. This thing—this abomination—it wasn’t just a creature. It was the manifestation of the darkness that had consumed the Crater. And it had been made from the bodies of those who had fallen, their souls twisted into eternal suffering.

“We need to move,” Aric said, his voice tight with fear and determination. “Now.”

They turned to flee, but as they did, the corpse dragon let out another roar, its soulless eyes locking onto them.