And just like that, with a single sentence, the god shattered our illusion of victory.
Another trial.
Another test.
The words hit harder than any blade.
The chamber fell into a suffocating silence because of that devastating betrayal, disbelief rippled through the survivors like a cold wind, sharp and unforgiving. We had barely made it through the ninth trial. Barely. Thousands had died—torn to pieces, crushed into pulp, swallowed whole by unspeakable horrors.
We had screamed.
We had bled.
We had clawed through the bowels of hell, inch by inch, breath by breath.
And now… he wanted more?
A voice broke the silence, desperate and frantic, shaking.
"But—My god! You said there would only be nine trials!"
The god's smile twisted into something darker, crueler. His eyes sparkled with vicious amusement, like a child watching ants struggle under glass.
