The corridor was narrow, the rusted walls almost closing in on them. Flickering overhead lights cast dancing shadows, making every enemy movement unpredictable.
"Two steps ahead, movement," Eric whispered, his eyes sharp, tracking the silhouettes at the end of the hall.
Levant nodded, raising his weapon. "Ready for contact."
They moved slowly, feet crunching on the rusted floor. A sudden sound of breaking metal under Eric's step warned them—they were getting closer. Suddenly, two attackers leapt from the side, blades aimed at Liam.
Liam flinched, but Eric was already there. His elbow slammed into one attacker's torso, sending him backward. Levant shot another attacker before he could move, adding another down.
"Hurry! This corridor's a trap," Carl whispered, his voice calm but heavy.
Eric nodded. "We split formation, like you said. Levant left, Liam and I center, Noah rear."
Their steps synchronized. Every footfall, every whispered movement of enemies was noted. Shadows shifted, more attackers emerging, armed with knives and metal rods. Hands, feet, weapons—all moving in unison in brutal close combat.
Noah ducked a swing of metal, delivering a precise kick to the stomach of an attacker. Levant jumped aside, punching another, halting a second assault. Carl moved in the center, shielding Eric from the corridor's right, cutting off any chance of an attack.
A small explosion echoed above; the lights flickered faster, smoke filling the corridor. They had to adjust their steps, dodging burning debris.
"This is just the beginning," Eric said, shooting at a shadowy figure ahead. "She wants to test us, not finish us now!"
Carl's gaze swept the narrow corridor ahead. "More will come. But we know their path. Use that advantage."
Liam exhaled sharply, glancing at his teammates. "We're halfway through. Focus. Don't give them an opening."
They pressed forward again, each strike, throw, and step executed with precision. Small cuts began appearing on hands and arms, but no one fell.
At the corridor's end, dim light from another iron door signaled they were close to the next zone. Eric crouched, eyes scanning shadows on every side.
"Get ready," he whispered. "This is the second door. Beyond this, we'll see how far Clara wants to take us."
Carl nodded, hands still gripping his weapon tightly. Dried blood stained his forearms, but his eyes remained fixed. "She wants us there… but not for negotiation. This is the real introduction."
They paused briefly, listening to movement from above and the sides. Every second stretched, every breath felt heavy. They knew what awaited beyond this door wasn't just guards—it was the true test, and perhaps, a confrontation with Clara herself.
Eric drew a deep breath, staring into the darkness ahead. "It's fine. We move forward. This isn't over."
---
Carl froze for a moment, eyes empty. Clara's cold voice crept into his thoughts, dragging him back to nights he tried to forget.
Flickering candlelight in a vast room, the scent of incense thick in the air. Clara stood before an altar, her face calm but icy. In her hand, a thick leather-bound book and a gleaming blade. Symbols surrounding her showed this wasn't an ordinary ritual—it was a "ceremony" she believed would exact revenge and consolidate her power.
"C… Charles," Carl's older brother shouted into the tense silence, stepping forward to confront Clara. Carl remembered his name—Charles, a protector and a close figure in his life. "Stop! You can't do this!"
Clara merely turned, her smile thin and terrifying. "Charles… you know what happens if I don't. Everything you love… will vanish. This is the only way." Her voice soft but layered with cruelty.
Charles moved closer, anger and fear in his eyes. "I won't let you… you've gone too far!" He tried to take the blade from her, but the ritual seemed to give Clara extraordinary strength.
Carl, in the corner, could only watch, heart pounding. He knew he couldn't stop Clara, but every second watching his brother struggle shattered him inside.
"Don't… Carl!" Charles yelled as Clara slowly lifted the blade—not to herself, but toward Charles. Blood sprayed, and his body collapsed with a sound that pierced Carl's soul. He froze, legs weak, the world stopping around him.
"Carl…" Clara spoke softly, her eyes studying him. "I know you're shocked. But you have to understand… if you don't follow me now, you will lose everything too. I won't stop. I just want you to follow."
Carl was motionless, face pale. The shadows of blood, screams, and Clara's cruelty echoed in his mind. Hands gripping his wrists, trying to contain the pain in his chest, he nearly collapsed—but he forced himself to stand.
Suddenly, Eric's voice calling his name thundered in his ears, snapping him back to the present. Carl's eyes widened. He was alive, facing a very different reality—but the weight of those memories lingered, fueling his resolve to stop Clara once and for all.