Lucas, Dean and their remaining squadmates plunged deeper into the pyramid's winding corridors. Each step away from the holding chamber felt like they were descending further into a tomb. The torches overhead sputtered and the air grew increasingly oppressive. Shadows clung to the walls as it was cast by the sigils engraved in the blackened stone. These runes pulsed with an unholy life as though whispering malicious secrets in a tongue long lost in time.

Lucas's breath came in ragged gasps. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples as it mixed with the grime on his skin. His heart was pounding. It was echoing louder with every step he took.

"Stay close," Dean murmured, his voice was calm but his eyes had a betraying worry. The massive warhammer that he created after leaving the holding chamber was stained with the blood and flesh of previous cultists they had encountered, now it was resting on his shoulder.

Lucas nodded hearing him though he struggled to keep his footing. Every corridor seemed narrower and more suffocating.

As they turned another corner, the stench of decay intensified. Lucas's stomach churned. He heard a soft, distant crashing, like bones against stone. His pulse fluttered.

'This feels wrong'

The corridor opened abruptly into a vast chamber. Its ceiling lost to darkness. The sight that greeted them stole Lucas's breath.

A monstrous stone altar loomed at the center, covered in fresh gore. Beneath it lay a festering pool of blood mixed with viscera thick, clotted ribbons floating in the crimson tide. Around the altar's base laid bodies of students slumped and lifeless. Their limbs contorted in agony. Some had been mutilated, empty eye sockets, chests torn open, entrails trailing like discarded serpents.

Above the altar, a demonic rift hovered. A swirling vortex of black flame and ember. It pulsed in time with the deathly chant rising from the cultists, a dozen robed figures knelt in unison, their voices deep and resonant.

"Infernum Aeterna Crescite…"

Each syllable echoed in Lucas's skull, rattling his sanity. The air shimmered with oppressive heat and the portal's glow cast nightmarish silhouettes across the helpless bodies. The chanting built to a fevered pitch.

Lucas's legs buckled as the horror washed over him. He stumbled, nearly knocking over Bren, a terrified etherweaver who clutched his staff as though it were his only anchor to life.

"L ... .Look away," Bren stammered his voice cracking. His knees failed him and he collapsed beside Lucas, trembling in horror.

Mari, another student, pressed both of her hands to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Lucas spun, retching. He vomited a mixture of bile and partially digested rations onto the cold stone, barely registering the sickening smack as it hit the floor. He tasted despair.

Dean slammed his hammer into the ground. A tremor rippled outward.

"Terrablock!"

A massive dome of jagged earth and black obsidian shot upward, encasing Lucas, Bren, Mari and the fourth student, Bel, in a cocoon of protection. The barrier vibrated with earthen runes that glowed faintly gold, holding back the cultists' onslaught.

Dean's roar shattered the chant. He hurdled over the dome's rim and charged into the cultists with his hammer raised.

Clang!!!

BOOM!!!!

His hammer struck a cultist's scepter designed to summon death itself in a shower of sparks. Both weapons split the air with thunderous reverberation. The cultist's scream died in his throat as Dean's hammer crushed the staff to splinters.

Another cultist lunged, wielding a wicked athame. Dean sidestepped fluidly, his armor of enchanted rock absorbing the blow. He countered with a crushing side strike, the cultist's head snapping back, forcing a river of blood from his mouth.

Dean's fury was a living thing. Each swing, each impact was a declaration of defiance against the ritual's darkness. He moved toward the altar but every step was met with cultists determined to stop him.

Bzzzt!!!

A bolt of corrupted mana slammed into his side. Dean roared in pain and staggering but he didn't yield. He reached for the attacker with his free hand and seized a wrist twisting mid spell.

Crack!!!

The cultist collapsed. Dean yanked his hammer free and advanced, eyes ablaze. More cultists pressed forward. They were bloodthirsty and chanting. His strikes became a tempest of destruction.

******

Inside the Dome,

Lucas curled into a ball against the earthen wall of Dean's barrier, panting. His mind teetered on the brink of collapse. Every muffled sound, moans, chants, the distant thud of Dean's hammer echoed like a funeral drum in his ears.

"I can't… I can't do this," he whimpered, he closed his eyes as panic flooded his senses. He pressed both hands to his ears to attempt to block the cacophony. Vision blurred.

"Stop! Breathe!" Bren said shakily beside him. But Lucas barely heard him.

'Fight. Run. Nothing matters'

He felt his consciousness unraveling. The floor was slick with gore, images of dead students swam before his eyes, smiling faces, voices calling others names. Each memory became a knife twisting in his gut.

A cultist's silhouette moved past the dome, chanting incantations to feed the portal's hunger.

Lucas sprang back to his feet. His back pressed to the barrier.

"It's not real," he muttered to himself. His voice quivering. "It is a dream. I am dreaming. I will wake up…"

His fingertips grazed the earthen wall. The runes glowed beneath his touch.

"Stay with me, Lucas," Mari whispered, voice trembling.

Lucas shook his head. The barrier rattled as cultists struck at it from the outside, but Dean held them at bay.

"It's my fault," Lucas sobbed. "I led them here. Because of me…"

His knees buckled. He sank to the ground, sliding into a fetal position, hugging his arms around his legs.

'Let me wake up. I can't….'

At that moment the barrier fractured.

Crack!!!!

A fissure snaked across the dome's earthen surface, spider webbing with runic shards. The ground around Lucas trembled as darkness seeped through.

A pale hand lanced through the crack, a hooded cultist's dagger glimmering with black flame.

Lucas's eyes widened. He slid backward, but there was nowhere to go. Panic seized him.

"Hell is real," he whispered. "It's real…"

The cultist lunged.

Slash!!!!

Dark fire arced around the blade.

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the end.

Whoosh!!!

Suddenly, the cultist's body exploded in a shower of ash and flame. A blinding radiance cut through the darkness, fracturing the barrier like glass.

Lucas blinked. Arthur stood above, framed in halo-like Voidfire. His sword ignited in ghostly violet pulsed with righteous wrath.

"Lucas! Hold on!" Arthur's voice rang like a clarion call, banishing the shadows.

Lucas staggered to his feet, his vision was hazy. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his chest heaved with ragged breaths.

Arthur dropped beside him, one hand gripping Lucas's shoulder. "You are with me now," he said firmly. "Clear your head. We are getting out of here."

Lucas's legs wobbled, knees threatening to give way. He stared at Arthur's unwavering gaze so bright it felt like sunrise in the blackest night.

'He is an angel. He is here…'

Arthur placed a steadying arm around Lucas, guiding him toward the barrier's shattered rim.

"Listen," Arthur continued, voice gentle but insistent, "Breathe. Focus on me. Breathe with me." He inhaled slowly, his chest rising. Lucas mimicked him, exhaling and quivering.

Every ounce of darkness receded as Arthur's presence filled him with a stubborn spark of hope.

"You are stronger than this," Arthur whispered. "Remember who you are. Remember why we fight."

Lucas blinked, swallowing hard. His trembling subsided, replaced by a fierce determination. He straightened, grip tightening around his spear. The chaotic noise of battle still rumbled, but it felt distant now. No longer drowning his mind.

"I… I won't fail," Lucas said, his voice was shaking but steady. "Not again."

Arthur nodded. "Good. We move now…together."

Arthur helped Lucas over the rubble and together they ran toward the chamber's heart.

Behind them, Dean's hammer roared another defiant war cry. The cult leader, tall and gaunt beneath his cowl. He stood at the altar's apex, his arms outstretched, chanting the final words of the summoning.

But Lucas and Arthur did not falter. Each step they took it propelled them closer to the altar closer to the final confrontation that would decide not just their fates but the fate of everyone in the pyramid.

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