"We have to follow that scream," said Milo with determination, though the fear in his eyes hadn't faded. "It could be someone who needs help."
The woman tilted her head slightly toward him, with the calm curiosity of a cat. She was idly playing with the dagger she had taken from the halfling, spinning it between her fingers.
"Could be interesting," she said lightly, as if chasing screams in a cursed chamber was nothing more than a game. "Or it could be a trap. But… isn't that what makes it fun?"
Shay, who had been hunched over in pain until that moment, suddenly straightened. The javelin piercing his leg creaked as it shifted, releasing a dry crack—but he didn't flinch. Not even a grimace.
His eyes now gleamed with a new intensity. Something had changed in his gaze. Without a word, he turned toward the coffin he had emerged from and reached inside. When he pulled his arm out, he was holding a warhammer. It was rusted and stained.
"Let's go," Shay said.
Without waiting for anyone to respond, he began walking—limping with determination—toward the source of the scream. Each step left a trail of blood on the ground, but he didn't stop.Milo glanced at the woman. She met his gaze with indifference and shrugged. Then she followed the knight.
The halfling let out a quiet sigh through clenched teeth and muttered a curse that was lost in the chamber. He followed, his hand still gripping the medallion around his neck, as if it could shield him from whatever was coming.
They moved through a narrow corridor that opened before them like a wound carved into the stone.
Suddenly, an invisible force struck them—fast and brutal—like a dagger driven straight into the back of the neck.
It was as if a thousand needles—fine as a ghost's breath—tried to pierce their thoughts.They didn't attack the body, but the will, the memories, the very sense of self.They probed with inhuman patience, searching for cracks, weaknesses, open doors in their weary minds.
A presence surrounded them. Vast, ancient… and full of malice.It didn't scream. It whispered. It murmured promises of rest, of surrender, of laying down their weapons and ceasing to fight.It didn't want to destroy their bodies. It wanted to erase who they were. To break their boundaries. To make them forget who they had been.
And slowly, it began to wear down what was still holding them upright.
Milo felt a tremor run through his legs as that formless voice—that pure, direct, malevolent presence—slipped into his mind like poisoned smoke.
"Give me your name… give me your being… and the pain will end."
The phrase wasn't heard—it was felt. Like a frozen claw trying to rip something essential from them.Something that, once gone, would never return.
Then, suddenly, the medallion on his chest grew hot, as if something within it had just awakened.It burned fiercely, searing his skin—but Milo didn't let go.
Shay staggered beside him. His body was faltering, but not his gaze.He held himself up with the warhammer, breathing hard, but his eyes… his eyes still burned, full of a will that refused to break.The pain in his leg—raw, unending—seemed to protect him, like a brutal chain anchoring him to the present, keeping him from the abyss trying to swallow him whole.
And then, just when the pain seemed on the verge of becoming unbearable… it vanished.No warning. No transition.As if it had never been there at all.
"What… what was that?" Milo asked, his voice trembling. Sweat ran in thick drops down his forehead.
Shay took a deep breath before answering.
"The Lotus of Bhael…" he whispered, his eyes unfocused, fixed on something that wasn't there."I remember the name… but I don't know exactly what it is. Something that attacks the mind or maybe a kind of possession."
The woman, who had remained calm the entire time—as if nothing at all had happened—let out a soft laugh.But the sound didn't match what they'd just lived through, and that made it all the more chilling.She watched them with arms crossed and that crooked smile that promised danger rather than answers.
"Seriously?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You're getting all dramatic over that? It wasn't that bad."
Milo exchanged a bewildered look with Shay.It wasn't just that the woman had withstood the mental attack—she seemed immune, as if the Lotus hadn't even touched her mind.Her smile widened as she watched them, clearly amused by the state they were in.
"You're adorable when you're scared," she added with a mocking smirk, then turned and walked off down the corridor with steady steps.
And then… they saw it.
The battlefield.
A vast hall, scarred by time and violence.The entire place was covered in a sea of bones and fallen bodies.It was clear a battle had taken place there—and that no one had survived.
There were fresh corpses, flesh still damp, eyes wide open in pure terror.Beside them lay shattered skeletons, coated in dust and ash, so ancient they almost seemed part of the ground itself.Broken carriages were scattered everywhere. Some were ruined beyond recognition; others, though damaged, still looked more or less intact.The strange part was… there wasn't a single horse in sight. Which was odd—very odd.
Milo swallowed hard.The silence hanging over the place was even more unsettling than the scream that had led them there.
Shay froze in place.
His face, already pale from blood loss, turned even whiter.In his eyes—horror…
The woman, on the other hand, showed not a hint of fear.She observed the field of the dead with a kind of clinical curiosity, as if standing before a grotesque masterpiece worthy of careful study.Her eyes scanned everything—the mangled bodies, the positions in which they had fallen, the rusted weapons still clutched by bony fingers.She was fascinated.
"By T—" Shay murmured, frowning, as if a word had tried to escape his mouth but vanished just before it could.
Milo swallowed. His mouth was dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His eyes scanned the sea of death, but his mind couldn't fully grasp what he was seeing.
"What kind of creature… could cause something like this?" he whispered, unable to look away.
And then, amid all that chaos… something caught his attention.
Near the center of the battlefield, one body stood out from the rest.It lay in a pool of blood that was still warm, not yet dried.It wasn't mangled like the others.It didn't look like just another casualty of savage combat.Its wounds were clean—precise.
Milo was the first to notice. And the instant he did, a shiver ran through his spine.
"No…" he whispered.
"You know this man?" Shay asked, his voice barely audible.
Milo didn't take his eyes off the corpse. His hands trembled as he stepped closer.
"This is Romulus," he said in a distant tone. "The leader of the survivors."
He paused, as if the next words weighed in his throat.
"He was… a good friend."
Shay looked at the halfling's face.There was something else there.A story buried beneath many layers of silence.
"Shit… I'm really sorry," he said sincerely.
Limping, he stepped toward the body. His face had become a mask of seriousness and respect.
"The least we can do now is give him a proper burial."
"Wait, don't—" said the woman, but Shay had already touched the body.
A metallic click—subtle, like a serpent's sigh—broke the silence.
Immediately, the ground beneath Romulus's corpse sank a few centimeters with a harsh grinding sound—stone scraping against stone.A deep, shadowy laugh echoed through the chamber, making the walls vibrate.Milo stepped back on instinct.
The air grew heavy—hard to breathe.A reddish mist began to rise from the floor, slowly at first, like poisonous smoke, then thicker, winding around their ankles as if trying to hold them down.
Milo started coughing violently. The cough was dry and ragged, shaking his chest.A trickle of blood slid down the corner of his mouth… and then from his nose.
"Goddamn it…" Shay muttered between gasps, coughing hard. His cough was wetter, more painful. "I shouldn't have touched it…"
"Oh, you think?" the woman said, her face tense.
"Get ready," the woman said. Her voice cut through the heavy air like the edge of a blade.
There was no trace left of her mocking smile. Her face was serious now—focused.Her eyes scanned every inch of the red mist surrounding them, alert for the slightest movement.Without taking her gaze off the front, she reached for her belt, where the halfling's dagger rested.
Milo and Shay could barely remain standing. Every breath was agony.The poisoned air burned their lungs.The woman glanced at them for a moment—and understood she was on her own.The wounded knight and the trembling halfling wouldn't be of any help.
Through the mist, shapes began to emerge.Skeletal fingers reached through the fog.Fleshless skulls turned slowly toward them, releasing dry, cracking sounds.Bodies that should have been dead began to stir—clumsy, rigid—as if something were pulling them upward with invisible strings.
"Goddamn it…" the woman muttered, thinking fast. One dagger against what looked like a horde of the dead didn't leave her many options.
Milo staggered back, coughing uncontrollably. His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood, and tears blurred his vision.As he tried to back away, he stumbled over something hard.Between coughs, he looked down—and saw what appeared to be a bastard sword.
With trembling hands, he grabbed the hilt and pulled.The weapon came loose from the skeleton still gripping it, the sound of cracking bones echoing around him.It was a massive sword, meant for someone much larger and stronger than him.His arms trembled just holding it, and he wasn't sure he could wield it properly.But he wasn't going to give up.He wasn't going to die without a fight.
Shay gripped the warhammer so tightly his knuckles turned white.His will clashed with the failing state of his body.
Everything was a blur—just a smear of red and shadows that wouldn't stop shifting.His eyes burned so badly it felt like acid had been poured into them.Every time he blinked, a sharp pain shot down from his eyes to the base of his skull, like hot needles being driven in.
The woman was the first to charge.
"Let's see how good you are in a fight!" she shouted.