[The Dead Zone — Day Three of the Journey]
The concept of time had utterly vanished within this rocky nebula; there was no longer a night to grant solace, nor a day to herald hope. There was only "The March"—that rhythmic, soul-crushing act that had devolved into a ritual of physical torture. Following the catastrophe that had decimated the camp the previous night, Commander Borjan had issued a suicidal order born of sheer, unadulterated panic: "No stopping for sleep. We march until we arrive, or we die on our feet." He labored under the delusion that constant movement would keep them safe from the forest's "curse" that had begun devouring his men one by one. He failed to realize that in a world crushed by distorted gravity, exhaustion is a silent killer—more efficient and swifter than the fangs of any predatory beast.
We were traversing a narrow stone pass, a jagged protrusion like a knife's edge jutting from the mountain wall, overlooking a bottomless volcanic valley. The heat here was not merely a rise in temperature; it was a living entity that scorched the lungs with every breath. Volcanic ash swirled in the air, stinging inflamed eyes that had long forgotten the mercy of sleep.
The remaining count of the Royal Guard: eight soldiers. They staggered like the walking dead, their pale faces masked in the dust of mortality, their sunken eyes reflecting the flickering out of their souls. Their heavy armor—once a symbol of pride and invincibility—had been transformed into iron coffins, dragging them toward the abyss with every stumbling step.
As for me, I existed in another realm entirely. I walked at the vanguard, dragging the remains of the battered carriage with chains that bit into my shoulders. My body was in a state of perpetual struggle, but my cellular regeneration was at work, repairing microscopic muscle tears the moment they occurred, absorbing fatigue and converting it into cold, kinetic energy. Pain was my constant companion, yes, but my energy knew no depletion. I was the only being walking with a straight back and sharp eyes, monitoring the vibrations of the air amidst a caravan of bodies losing their tether to reality.
"Water..." a soldier whispered behind me, his voice sounding like the grinding of dry wood. "We drank the last drop an hour ago," his comrade replied in a tone of absolute despair. "Endure it, you fool, or die in silence."
I glanced back with the corner of my crimson gaze. Borjan was bringing up the rear, attempting to gather the shattered remnants of his pride, his whip dangling from a hand that trembled with weakness. He no longer possessed even the strength to scream at me. I allowed myself a smile that no one saw; they had all reached the precipice of total collapse. All this crumbling structure needed was a "small push" to fall into the void.
[The Bone Bridge: The Scales of Souls]
The path came to an abrupt halt before an unforeseen obstacle: a gargantuan terrestrial rift, a bottomless chasm separating us from the other side of the mountain. At the bottom, hundreds of meters deep, flowed a river of glowing yellow lava, casting a hellish radiance that stained the rocks the color of blood.
The only link between the two cliffs was an "Ancient Bridge," a derelict crossing built not of stone or wood, but of a terrifying mixture of rusted metal chains and the giant bones of prehistoric monsters, meticulously arranged as footboards. The bridge swayed violently with the rising thermal currents from below, looking like a living creature breathing fear.
"We must cross," Borjan panted, terror coating his voice as he stared at the decaying bones. "The cave lies directly on the other side." He turned to me with bloodshot eyes. "You go first... you dog. Test the path with your cursed body."
I did not hesitate. I stepped toward the bridge with confident strides. The bone planks emitted a funereal "Cr-r-r-eak" with every pressure of my foot. The chains shook violently, and the hot winds tried to shove my body into the emptiness. When I reached the midpoint, I stopped completely. I feigned a struggle to maintain my balance, but in reality, I was examining the "anchor point" with my expert eye.
I saw it: a massive metal ring connecting the main chains to the rock on the opposite side. It was entirely corroded by decades of sulfur fumes and acidity. It represented the perfect "weak point"; it would not withstand a heavy, sudden weight. My weight alone, with my lean build, was not enough to break it, but it was waiting for a "royal" weight in full plate armor to declare its surrender.
I crossed to the other side with a manufactured peace. I stood there, gripping the edge of the rock, and looked at them with a frozen expression. "Safe!" I croaked, gesturing with my bound hands toward them.
The soldiers sighed audibly. A false sense of security took hold; if this "freak" could cross with his strange body, they certainly could in their armor. "Move in pairs!" Borjan shouted, trying to reclaim his role as leader. "Do not crowd the bridge!"
The first two soldiers advanced with extreme caution. They reached the middle, and the bridge groaned under their feet, but it held. It was here that Borjan committed his fatal error, fueled by his haste to leave this exposed area. "Follow them! We have no time to dally! Move!" He pushed two more soldiers onto the bridge before the first two had even reached the other side.
Four soldiers. Four sets of heavy plate armor, weapons, and backpacks filled with gear. The weight became more than the sickly chains could bear. I was standing exactly at the corroded fastening point. I placed my foot "by accident" over the weakened ring. I didn't use force; I didn't kick it. I simply pressed down with my weight as the bridge swayed sharply. That small pressure was the "last straw" gravity had been waiting for.
"SNAP!"
The sound of snapping metal echoed like a gunshot through the silent valley. The rusted ring severed completely, and the right main chain of the bridge tore free from its mooring.
The bridge flipped in a fraction of a second at a sharp angle. "AAAAHHHH!" The four soldiers didn't even have a blink of an eye to comprehend what was happening. They slid off the smooth bone planks like paper dolls. I watched them plummet into the void, their screams receding and fading into the depths of the nebula until they were swallowed by the absolute silence of the valley. Seconds later, four clouds of smoke and ash rose from the lava river below, announcing the melting of the King's "honor" in a liquid of fire.
The collapsed bridge slammed against the rock wall beneath me with a horrific thud that made the ground shake under my feet. Nothing remained of the bridge but a single, lonely left chain, dangling like a neglected noose, carrying a few broken bone planks. The remaining count: four soldiers, including Borjan, standing on the other cliff with faces masked in shock and death. And I... I was alone on the shore of salvation.
[On the Brink of Breaking: The Humiliation of Kings]
"No! No! No!" Borjan shrieked at reality and fell to his knees, staring into the abyss that had swallowed half his strength in the blink of an eye. The catastrophe was greater than his capacity to understand. He looked at me across the vast rift; I stood there, holding the end of the severed chain, my features painting a "manufactured shock" with pinpoint accuracy. "The chain..." I shouted in a voice full of fake regret. "It was corroded from the inside, my lord! It could not bear the weight of heroes!"
"You!" a soldier beside Borjan screamed, trembling with rage and terror. He drew his bow and aimed an arrow at my chest. "You did this! I saw you step on it before it broke!"
"Stop, you idiot!" Borjan barked, striking the soldier's hand harshly, sending the arrow flying into the abyss. "If you kill him now, who will protect us from the horrors inside? Who will know the way?" Borjan screamed with desperate madness into the faces of his men. "We are only four! Without the 'Monster,' we are just corpses waiting for burial!"
The hatred in Borjan's eyes glowed like embers, but "Need" was suffocating him. "How... how will we cross now, you freak?" he asked in a wavering voice, devoid of any authority.
I pointed to the weakly dangling remaining chain. "Climb..." I said with indifferent coldness. "One by one. But hear my advice: throw away the armor. The chain is frayed, and the armor is too heavy for your exhausted bodies."
That request was an insult beyond death for a dwarven warrior; armor is a "second skin" and a symbol of military honor. But the reality of burning in the lava was a truth standing before their eyes. With humiliating slowness and trembling hands, they began unbuckling their ornate armor and throwing it into the abyss, watching it fall after their comrades. They discarded their helmets, their heavy weapons, transforming in moments from a "Terrifying Royal Guard" into "terrified little dwarves" in torn undergarments and pale skin.
They climbed the chain with immense difficulty, their breaths struggling against the hot air. I pulled them up, one by one, to the safe side with a single hand, as if I were hauling bags of refuse. When Borjan arrived, he was gasping for air, his face stained with dirt and muffled tears. He collapsed at my feet, completely broken. He didn't curse; he didn't threaten. He stared at the ground in silence.
I looked at them coldly. Four soldiers, without armor, without dignity, and so exhausted that a breeze could topple them. "The perfect number," I thought within the depths of my darkness. "Enough to be perfect bait, but too weak to pose any obstacle when the real battle begins."
[The Seventh Door: The Heart of the Sin]
We continued the march for two additional hours in absolute silence; no one dared to utter a word. Suddenly, the density of the air changed. The suffocating smell of sulfur vanished, replaced by a strange scent... the smell of "Ozone" and static electricity that made the hair stand up instinctively.
We emerged from the rocky gorge, and the scene we had come for was revealed. We all stopped in our tracks, feet frozen before the grandeur of what our eyes beheld.
We stood before a gargantuan "Crater" carved into the wall of the underworld. A massive cave, whose entrance height exceeded a hundred meters, carved with a geometric precision that defied human logic. Colossal statues of unknown entities, with shattered heads and wings, stood on both sides of the entrance like eternal sentinels, holding stone swords pointed downward in a posture of "Forbidden."
From within that deep darkness shrouding the depths of the cave, a contrary current of cold air emanated, accompanied by a very low, deep "Thrumming"—a frequency the ears could not hear, but the bones and marrow vibrated to. "Woooooooom..."
It was the sound of the "Core"; the Earth's heart beating with sin.
Borjan swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he gripped his short sword, which looked like a needle against the majesty of the entrance. "We have... arrived," he whispered with sacred terror. "The graveyard of the Royal Guard... and the end of the journey." He turned to me, and for the first time since our meeting, his gaze did not carry contempt. He looked at me as if I were his last anchor in an ocean of madness. "You will enter first," he said in a low voice, desperately trying to summon an authority that had vanished with his men.
I took a step forward, toward the black void that awaited us. My crimson eyes began to glow with a terrifying brilliance, sensing the density of "Souls" and the stagnant energy within. Here, simple tricks would not suffice, and broken bridges would be of no use. Here, at the Seventh Door, lie the Ancient Guardians who know no mercy.
I turned toward Borjan and the three trembling survivors behind him. A smile spread across my face—a mixture of mockery and a final omen. "Remember one thing as you step behind me..." I told them, my voice echoing through the giant gateway like a herald of doom. "Do not stray from me once we are inside."
I paused for a moment, and my eyes turned a deep, bloody hue. "Not because I will protect you... but so that I can hear your screams with absolute clarity when they find you."
Before they had a chance to process my words, I turned and walked into the absolute darkness. The shadows of the giant gate swallowed me in a second, and they were forced to scramble after me, trembling—not because they were brave, but because staying behind in this place meant dying alone in the silence of history.