In a serene grass field, a rift tore through the tranquil night, abruptly disgorging four figures onto the verdant plain before vanishing without a trace.
Soft giggles danced through the air as Llorva sprawled, her laughter echoing through the night. “That was fun,” she exclaimed, her smile widening with excitement.
“I hear you, but I'd appreciate it if you could get off me,” Slim's voice cut through the night, tinged with a hint of discomfort.
Llorva's gaze dropped, realizing she was lying atop her companions. With graceful agility, she leaped off the pile, inadvertently pulling Scott along. Fi-Fi, having reverted to its diminutive form, latched onto Llorva's arm once more. Meanwhile, Zara deftly rolled over, slyly giving Slim's head a playful rub.
Moments later, the champions rose to their feet, surveying their unfamiliar surroundings.
Congratulations! You have completed the third trial! EXP: 500! You have arrived at the underground city of Parla!
The champions scanned through the system messages, though they paid little heed to the rewarded experience points, which failed to trigger another level up.
“We're finally out of that place,” Slim muttered, readjusting his clothes. “Is everyone okay?” He cast a quick glance at his companions. Apart from dirt stains and a few odd wet spots, none of them had suffered any injuries.
“I'm good,” Zara replied softly. “The only problem now is figuring out what kind of place this is.” Her gaze swept across the vast grassy plain but nothing out of the ordinary immediately came into view.
In the distance, however, multicolored streaks of light illuminated the sky, accompanied by faint yet audible booming sounds.
The champions exchanged glances; their confusion evident.
“Does it sound like there's a massive party going on over there, or is it just me?” Slim voiced his doubts.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” Zara murmured.
“Well, that would be the case if we weren't seeing those damn disco lights,” Slim retorted as he took a step forward. He gestured toward the star-studded sky and the crescent moon. “How can this even be an underground city?”
Turning around, he focused on Scott, who had remained silent since their emergence in Parla. As always, Llorva clung tightly to the masked man. “Buddy, do you notice anything peculiar about this place?”
Scott glanced at Slim briefly, then shifted his attention to Zara, and finally to Llorva. After a moment, the eldritch knight surveyed the well-lit sky and the grassy field. Wordlessly, he took a step forward, and Llorva quickly followed him.
Slim tilted his head back, glancing toward Zara. The feline shook her head in confusion, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. “We should follow him,” she whispered. “Maybe he's onto something but can't say it,” she speculated.
Slim nodded in agreement. Without delay, the champions traversed the lush plain, the gentle wind tousling their clothes as they ventured forth. Silence enveloped them as Scott aimlessly meandered toward the source of the flashing lights in the distance. Seconds melted into minutes, and minutes into hours, yet the group showed no signs of nearing the lights' origin. Instead, they reached the edge of the grassy field, where a thick forest with gigantic, blanketing leaves obstructed their path.
“Nothing in this trial is ever straightforward,” Slim sighed, shaking his head. “Would it kill them not to add some ominous forest?” he muttered.
“Stop complaining,” Zara chided. “We'll leave you behind if you're too scared,” she teased.
Scott and Llorva charged toward the dimly lit forest, with Zara quickly following suit. Slim shook his head once more, muttering under his breath before dashing after his companions. A slight fog veiled the path ahead, and the echoing croaks of toads reverberated from the obscured regions. Occasionally, crimson orbs illuminated peculiar areas of the forest, but they vanished as quickly as they appeared.
“Even for the undead, this place is creepy as hell,” Slim muttered, glancing nervously from side to side as he followed Scott at a measured distance.
Zara, who had been silent since entering the misty forest, furrowed her brow as she surveyed their surroundings. The fog thickened with each step, but it was Scott's continued silence that bothered her the most.
The group pressed on in silence for another hour. The fog grew so dense that they could barely see six feet ahead, and despite Slim and Zara's attempts to engage Scott in conversation, he remained silent. Even Llorva, snuggled up close to the masked knight, seemed uncharacteristically subdued. Unlike Slim and Zara, however, the elf showed no reluctance to explore the mysterious surroundings.
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The group trudged onward for another thirty minutes; their visibility reduced to a mere three feet ahead. The croaking had ceased, and even the fog seemed to swallow the whispers of the night's breeze. Amidst the eerie silence, Scott abruptly halted, bringing his companions to a halt as well. Slim and Zara exchanged nervous glances, perplexed by Scott's sudden decision to stop.
“Buddy, is this where we're supposed to be?” Slim inquired, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any clues. But Scott remained silent, his gaze fixed on their environment, uncertainty clouding his expression.
“Buddy, what's wrong?” Slim pressed, his composure slipping. “You've been unusually quiet since we got here. Did something—” His words were cut short by a metallic clank, and in the ensuing silence, Slim's head detached from his skeletal body.
Zara's eyes widened in shock and confusion. Before the feline could react, a fist emerged from the fog, striking her at the base of the neck with lightning speed. The sickening sound of bones breaking followed, as the eyes of the brawler rolled inwards. Simultaneously, an indistinct figure charged through the mist, snatching up Zara's lifeless form, while Slim's decapitated skull crashed to the ground. Then, an enormous foot descended from above, obliterating what remained of the necromancer before vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared. In a mere five seconds, both Zara and Slim had fallen to unseen assailants within the fog.
For the first time, Llorva released her grip on Scott’s arm, her elven features twisted in a murderous expression as her keen eyes scanned the fog. Yet not even a whisper pierced the gray haze.
“We need to—” Before Llorva could finish, a sword thrust through her neck from behind, sending a spray of fresh blood into the air. She instinctively reached for her throat, but before she could react further, her arms were severed by a swift sword stroke. In the same instant, Fi-Fi, previously inert, transformed into a massive hydra with countless tentacles.
Llorva's lifeless body slumped to the ground, a haunting smile still etched on her face as she gazed in Scott’s direction. Meanwhile, Fi-Fi's tentacles flailed wildly in the fog, unable to discern friend from foe.
Nether beings encircled Scott, forming a protective barrier against Fi-Fi's relentless onslaught. The eldritch knight remained stoic; his dispassionate gaze fixed on the eerie mist.
Dozens of lightning bolts rained down from the heavens, striking Fi-Fi head-on, yet the elemental creature shrugged off the assault. Magic circles illuminated beneath it, summoning a towering inferno that engulfed the creature. But like before, Fi-Fi emerged unscathed, its assault undeterred. Tremors shook the surroundings as devastation unfolded, trees and earth upturned in chaos.
A barrage of icicles and flaming boulders hurled themselves at Fi-Fi, but the creature absorbed the elemental onslaught with ease, retaliating with renewed ferocity. Despite its relentless attacks, Fi-Fi failed to locate its unseen assailant.
A deafening hum permeated the air, drawing Scott's attention to the elemental slime. In an instant, a neon-red beam sliced through the misty forest, obliterating the creature before hurtling toward the eldritch knight.
Scott reached for his mask as the war hammer of the mad god materialized from the darkness. But the beam surged forward, shattering the nether shield, and piercing through the eldritch knight’s dragon scales, leaving a fist-sized hole in his chest. His right hand and left leg turned to charred flesh, on the brink of crumbling to ash.
A chilling laugh echoed through the haze, followed by the heavy footsteps of approaching figures.
A deep voice shattered the silence. “There’s always a cold-blooded bastard in every group. Can't stand them.”
Scott turned toward the voice, his gaze narrowing as he beheld eight figures cloaked in blood-red robes. Each wore a pristine white mask adorned with crimson teardrops beneath the eye slits.
“And who are you supposed to be?” Scott's gaze flickered between the figures.
“You have no right to know. Death is all that awaits you,” one of them declared, brandishing a massive machete with a serrated blade toward Scott. He moved forward, but another figure blocked his path.
“Wait. It's too simple to finish him off like this. Let's give him a chance to avenge his companions. It would be more entertaining that way, don't you think?” the figure said, shifting attention to Scott.
“I'm sure you're feeling angry and confused, but it's not our fault your companions were weak. They shouldn't have come here if they couldn't survive,” the figure continued, advancing. “Your death is certain, but I don't mind granting you a chance to avenge them.”
“How do you suggest I do that?” Scott's voice remained devoid of emotion.
The figure gestured towards his companions, then himself. “Make your choice. Who will you fight?”
“I see,” Scott nodded, understanding dawning. He took a step forward, his charred limbs reforming as he did, leaving no trace of damage. The unknown assailants' demeanor shifted drastically. Scott's regenerated limbs and healed chest wound, devoid of scars, left them stunned.
Approaching the figures with deliberate steps, Scott stopped twenty feet away, slinging the war hammer over his shoulder. He pointed towards the figure who had spoken earlier. “I don't know how many times you've pulled this stunt, and frankly, I don't care. I have no patience for this pointless game.”
“What are you talking about?” the figure asked, unable to conceal his confusion. “Do you even know what's happening?”
Scott sighed audibly, then pointed his right hand towards the figure holding the machete. “Burn,” he said softly.
The group gazed at Scott, their confusion evident, their eyes betraying a mix of disbelief and disdain. “Do you think this is some kind of mov—” Before one of them could finish their sentence, the figure burst into flames, scattering into a grisly rain of flesh and blood.
Scott shifted his attention to another individual. “Disappear,” he murmured.
In an instant, a gust swept through the area, and the masked figure vanished without a trace. The remaining figures recoiled in unison, fear clouding their expressions. Scott paid them little heed, his focus drawn to a nondescript leaf on the ground.
“As I said, I haven't the time for whatever game this is. End it, or I'll do it for you. Trust me, you won't want me to get involved,” Scott whispered.
A series of clicks reverberated through the forest, and both the masked figures and the surrounding trees vanished in a billow of smoke. As the haze dissipated, it revealed a vast room adorned with glowing white tiles. Scott surveyed the room with casual interest, his gaze fixated on a mirror at the far end of the chamber.
“It's been a while since someone saw through our illusions,” a voice echoed with excitement throughout the room. “I don't know how you did it, but congratulations on passing the first stage of the ranking game. My name is Nex, and I oversee the fourth stage. Welcome to the Ranking Game!”