Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The world, reduced to the size of a palm, lived according to its own frightening laws. A journey across obsidian slabs that would have taken a minute before turned into an exhausting forced march across an endless black desert. The dust floating in the air now seemed like flying boulders to Kaedan, and the rare drops of condensation falling from the vaults struck the floor with the roar of cannonballs.
"Don't stop," Iskon tossed out. His voice, thinned by their size, still retained that icy authority that made Bert and Olaf obey without a word.
Iskon felt surprisingly confident in this environment. His Scaling Spirit seemed to receive additional fuel within the Pyramid; the young man spent almost no energy stabilizing his weapon. Each time an insurmountable—by their current stature—obstacle in the form of a fallen stone chip appeared in the group's path, Iskon would simply lengthen his blade, turning it into a narrow steel bridge.
Kaedan brought up the rear, his Unbreakable Armor passively absorbing the floor's vibrations. The young man noticed that, despite his body's reduction, his inner energy had not dissipated. On the contrary, it seemed to have undergone even greater compression, becoming sharp and prickly. This placed a monstrous strain on his Vessel, and only his Warrior regeneration allowed Kaedan not to buckle under this internal pressure.
Suddenly, from the deep crevice between the slabs—which now resembled a bottomless canyon—two long, segmented antennae emerged. They were covered in coarse bristles, each as thick as a knight's spear.
"Everyone freeze!" Iskon commanded, crouching down.
From the chasm, a creature slowly crawled out that in the normal world would be called a ruin centipede. But for the tiny detachment, it was an armored train, bristling with hundreds of sickle-shaped legs. The creature's chitinous carapace glinted dully, and a yellowish, caustic slime oozed from its powerful mandibles.
The centipede moved with frightening speed, its legs beating a staccato rhythm on the obsidian that sounded to the knights like a drumroll before an execution. The beast had sensed their presence—four bright sources of power in this grey world were too tempting a prey.
"Bert, Olaf—shields! Kaedan—hold the line!" Iskon assessed the situation instantly. He understood that in this state, they couldn't simply run.
The creature lunged to attack, coiling its long body into rings. Kaedan stepped forward, summoning all the power of his Armor. The basalt pauldrons and cuirass grew heavy with weight. The young man planted his feet on the slab, feeling his "Rooting" technique bind him to the very mass of the pyramid.
The centipede crashed into him with its full mass. The impact was such that the slab under Kaedan's feet trembled. The beast's mandibles clamped down on his stone vambrace, trying to crush the limb. A screech sounded that set their teeth on edge. Kaedan felt the centipede's energy—primitive, but incredibly concentrated—trying to gnaw through his defense.
"Now!" Kaedan rasped, holding the writhing body of the monster.
Iskon acted with surgical precision. He didn't try to enlarge himself—that would still require extreme amounts of energy. Instead, he directed his Spirit into his teardrop shield. At the moment Iskon lunged for the centipede's head, the steel spike in the center of his shield suddenly lengthened by three meters.
The steel needle pierced the creature's chitinous armor, passing through all segments of its body. The centipede convulsed, its legs scraping chaotically against Kaedan's armor, leaving deep furrows in the stone. A second later, it was over. The giant—by their measure—body went still.
"Move," Iskon abruptly shortened the spike, not even bothering to wipe off the green blood. "The green light is close."
Half an hour of grueling climbing over "mountains" of rubble brought them to the zone from which the strange glow emanated. It was a "Stability Node"—a small pedestal adorned with ancient runes, around which the air did not tremble or distort. As soon as the knights crossed the invisible boundary of this oasis, Kaedan felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
Here, the laws of the Pyramid of Scales lost their grip. The shrinking process stopped, and their bodies slowly began to return to normal proportions. Kaedan saw his hands become massive again, and Iskon grow taller. It wasn't an instantaneous process, but the very feeling of returning to their familiar scale was sweeter than any wine.
"We'll catch our breath here," Iskon sat down on the floor, leaning against the pedestal. His face was pale, and his arm trembled noticeably—the constant use of his Spirit in the aggressive environment was draining his Vessel dry. "But don't relax. This zone is merely a respite. The Temple won't release us until we prove that our right to this scale is indisputable."
Kaedan looked at his greaves. They were scratched by the rat's claws and the centipede's mandibles, but his inner energy had already begun to "fill in" these damages. He felt his Warrior power pulsate, growing ever more mature.
Ahead, beyond the green light, the corridor was once again beginning to change its shape, promising new nightmares. But now they had an island of silence where they could gather their strength for the decisive push towards the heart of the Pyramid.