The journey south was longer, but now they could endure it.
With the thermal hide adapted into their clothing, the exhaustion icon was still there, but it took much longer to become truly dangerous. They could plan breaks, routes, and battles far more effectively.
"Okay, this is a whole different life," Sienna said, adjusting the strap of her cloak. "Now it feels like I'm just walking through a desert, not standing inside a turned-on microwave."
"Which is already a pretty significant upgrade," Jay remarked.
The castle appeared on the horizon like a massive scar carved into the landscape.
Part of it was buried beneath the sand.
Broken towers rose unevenly, warped walls leaned at odd angles, and shattered wooden gates lay collapsed. Remnants of banners hung from cracked poles, fluttering like ghosts.
Ethan stopped for a moment, simply observing.
"It must have been beautiful… before it became this."
"And deadly before and after," Sienna added.
Jay moved ahead, shield ready.
"Time to knock on the door of a place where we are clearly not welcome."
They crossed the fallen gates.
The entrance hall was vast, with cracked pillars and torn standards still hanging from the walls. Broken swords, fallen helms, and fragments of armor littered the floor.
"This doesn't feel like just scenery," Elenya said quietly. "It feels… frozen in time."
That was when the sound began.
A low creak.
Then another.
Like old metal being dragged across stone.
From the corners of the hall, bones began to move.
Skeletons rose, gripping rusted swords, adjusting cracked shields.
Five at first.
Then three more emerging from behind the columns.
Two more at the far end.
All of them wore remnants of armor that had once been noble, now broken and darkened.
But their posture…
Marcus's eyes widened slightly.
"They're in formation."
The skeletons advanced with discipline. No chaotic rushing.
Shields forward, blades protected, steps synchronized.
"Real soldiers," Jay murmured, setting his stance. "Even after death."
The first clash was brutal.
Jay held the front line with his shield while Marcus covered the left flank. Sienna opened a semicircle of energy, pushing several enemies back.
Ethan raised his hand. Concentrated flames detonated around the knees of one skeleton, cracking bone just enough to bring it down. It wasn't scattered fire—it was precise bursts of intense heat aimed at weak points.
Elenya stepped back a few paces, took a deep breath, and raised her bow.
She aimed along the line formed by the enemies' backs.
"Penetration."
She drew the string. The arrow seemed to grow thinner, sharper, carrying an invisible piercing force.
When released, the projectile flew straight and pierced the first armor as if it were paper. It kept going, shattering spines, tearing ribs free, destroying everything in its path.
"That's way better than trying to chip away at bones with regular shots," Sienna muttered, impressed.
"The point is not wasting arrows," Elenya replied, already drawing another.
Penetration did the heavy lifting. With each shot, another cluster of bones collapsed from exactly where it should.
Marcus read the attack patterns, stepping in and out of the front line, using his longsword as an extension of Jay's movements. Ethan ignited strategic points—joints, grips, shield pivots—forcing skeletons to drop their weapons.
"This place never ends!" Sienna complained after taking down the third group. "You kill one, two more show up!"
"They're not attacking out of hatred," Marcus said, crushing a skull. "They're… defending."
"Defending what?" Sienna shot back.
No one answered.
After minutes that felt far longer, the remains of the soldiers fell back to the floor, motionless, as if returning to sleep.
The group breathed heavily.
Jay glanced at his HP bar.
"Even with the thermal hide, this isn't going to be a walk in the park."
"It was never meant to be," Ethan replied. "Elysium never opens a path for free."
They pressed on.
The following corridors were long, coated in fine sand. Torn tapestries hung from the walls, and shattered crests hinted at a kingdom none of them knew by name.
Sometimes one or two skeletons appeared and were quickly dispatched. Other times, small formations tried to block the way. But nothing as overwhelming as the first encounter.
The feeling was unmistakable:
the entire castle was guiding those who entered toward the same destination.
The depths.
"Do you feel it?" Elenya asked softly. "Like everything is pushing us in a single direction…"
"Converging corridors. Central chamber," Ethan analyzed. "Classic throne architecture."
Marcus nodded.
"If there's a place where we'll find the answer to what this floor wants from us… it's there."
The largest doors appeared at the end of the final corridor.
Tall, thick, made of wood darkened by time and reinforced with oxidized metal.
Jay and Marcus pushed together.
The hinges protested… but gave way.
The throne room was immense.
Cracked stone columns supported a high ceiling, partially collapsed, allowing thin shafts of desert light to spill in. Nearly all the stained glass was shattered, yet muted tones of red and gold still filtered through.
At the far end, raised by a few steps, stood the throne.
Carved from raw stone, imposing even in ruin.
Beside it rested a large reinforced chest, wrapped in ancient chains.
And before the throne…
A skeleton.
Ancient samurai armor, broken in several places, its faded golden details dulled by time. A katana was planted into the floor, skeletal hands resting on the hilt. The head was bowed, like someone standing eternal watch.
The group took two steps into the room.
The sound was minimal—but echoed like thunder.
The skeleton's skull lifted slowly.
Vertebrae creaking.
The cracked helmet clinking.
Within the empty sockets, two faint lights ignited.
The interface reacted instantly, marking the target.
The name appeared in red:
[Akashin – Guardian of the Last Promise]
HP Bar: Red
A chill ran up Jay's spine, despite the heat still clinging to his skin.
"He's… not just some pile of bones."
Marcus adjusted his longsword, his expression grave.
"That stance… belongs to someone who was once a true soldier."
Akashin pulled the katana free from the ground.
He rose.
The armor—far too heavy for any human movement—seemed to fit the skeleton perfectly. He took a single step forward.
The voice came out rough, like stones grinding inside a throat.
"Step back…"
"No one…"
"passes…"
"me…"
The katana rose, steady, into guard.
They understood.
This was not dialogue.
From that moment on…
It was a fight.