Back to the moment they first reached the fork in the road.

Irritation, anger, impatience, and a deep, gnawing annoyance, those were the emotions twisting within Mathew as he walked through the silent corridors, their floors littered with the corpses of fallen beasts.

This wasn't the kind of expedition he wanted. He wanted combat, raw, desperate combat, where his life would hang by a thread and every decision mattered. But there was no challenge here, no struggle. All the enemies were already dead.

Whatever had killed them had done so with terrifying speed and precision. But unlike Joey, Mathew didn't believe it was some rank nine monster responsible. No, he was almost certain of who had done this.

Jacob Skydrid.

The name filled him with instant fury. Jacob used a sword. Jacob wielded a rune that created spears of flame, that alone explained the corpses impaled clean through. And the absence of burn marks wasn't surprising; most of these monsters had high resistance to fire. Jacob could also teleport, which would grant him the mobility and speed needed to strike before his targets could even react, disappearing just as quickly afterward.

Mathew's jaw tightened as he studied another corpse, its chest pierced perfectly through the center. Too clean, he thought bitterly. Too deliberate. A beast would have torn, ripped, devoured, left carnage, not surgical precision.

Joey might have been fooled by the sheer number of bodies, but Mathew wasn't. Joey spent his days poring over runes and theory, detached from reality. Mathew had fought enough battles to recognize the signs. Everything here, the attack angles, the efficiency, the lack of collateral damage screamed human.

And not just any human. Jacob Skydrid.

The bastard had the nerve to arrive late and now was stealing his kills, walking ahead unseen while Mathew and Joey were left to wander through his aftermath. The thought made his blood boil. He clenched his fists, a quiet growl rising from his throat, but all of that anger evaporated the moment they reached the fork.

Here, everything changed.

The air was still, unnaturally so. He couldn't sense mana coming from either path; both felt equally empty, equally silent. Yet he wasn't without guidance. From beneath his robes he pulled out a small, faintly glowing object, a treasured artifact, one he had borrowed at great cost for this exploration. Its sole purpose was simple: to guide its wielder toward areas of greatest reward.

For two days he had been following its subtle pull, a faint ringing at the edge of perception, like a whisper threading through his thoughts. But now, standing at this intersection, that whisper had become a scream.

The ringing had grown unbearable, crashing through his skull like waves of sound. His temples throbbed, his breath caught, and yet a wide grin spread across his face.

They had found it. Whatever lay beyond this point was extraordinary, dangerous, yes, but promising beyond measure.

'Right… it's definitely towards the right,' Mathew thought, his pulse quickening as the artifact's pull intensified. Without a second thought he broke into a run, boots echoing off the stone walls as he charged down the dim corridor. The ringing in his head grew louder the further he went, a high, shrill sound that bordered on painful yet also seemed to shield him from something, something he couldn't perceive, some unseen corrosion pressing faintly at the edges of his thoughts.

And then he saw it.

The corridor opened into a vast, silent chamber, and standing at its center was a statue that left him frozen in place. Its presence was impossible to describe, heavy, radiant, commanding, almost holy in how it seemed to reject the decay surrounding it. The stone surface was smooth and unweathered despite the age of the place, the lines of its sculpted form still sharp, immaculate.

Two figures were caught within its design: one, a smaller man being observed like a specimen, his body twisted mid-struggle as though captured at the very moment of defiance; the other, standing tall upon the creature's hand, glaring upward with such hatred that Mathew could almost feel the heat of it sear through the air. But what drew his eyes most was the lantern.

The book cradled in another of the statue's hands caught his attention for a moment, it was oddly lifelike, its texture wrong for stone, but compared to the lantern it was nothing. The lantern seemed to glow, though it was carved entirely from rock, and the faint light spilling from it stirred something in him, a pulse of recognition he couldn't explain.

He didn't know what he was sensing, only that it felt powerful, ancient, and important, like the knowledge had been placed directly into his mind.

Desire took hold of him before he realized it, his body moving almost on its own as he stepped closer to the statue. But the moment his foot struck the floor, he heard another step beside his own.

He turned sharply and saw Joey approaching beside him. Their eyes met, each recognizing the same restless hunger in the other, both trying and failing to mask it. Mathew's hands twitched at his sides, his expression hardening.

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"Don't you dare try and touch that lantern," he said quietly, voice edged with warning.

"The book is mine," Joey replied at the exact same moment.

For a brief second, silence followed. Then both men blinked, confusion cutting through their tension. Mathew exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with a faint, uneasy chuckle.

"Why in the world would you want an unreadable book?" he said, his tone loosening slightly. "You had me worried there for a moment."

Joey's shoulders eased, though the tightness in his eyes didn't vanish entirely. "And why would you want a lantern? It doesn't even look special apart from the fact that it glows."

Mathew shrugged and turned back to the statue, his earlier irritation returning in a faint wave as his eyes drifted again to the book Joey seemed so fixated on. He studied it for a moment, trying to find what his companion might have seen in it, but it was nothing more than a weathered, grey volume, old, unfamiliar, written in a script neither of them would ever understand. Whatever it was, it didn't hold his interest for long.

'I should just take the lantern before he changes his mind,' he thought, the decision forming quietly but firmly. Without another word he stepped forward, his eyes locked on the faintly glowing object.

A sound split the silence.

Screech.

A shrill, piercing cry tore through the chamber, sharp enough to make his ears ring. Mathew had no time to react before something cold and powerful seized him by the throat, clinging to his back. His breath caught in his chest, air cut off in an instant, genuine fear filled his thoughts.

'How… didn't I sense it?' His mind raced as his hands clawed at the unseen grip, his aura flaring instinctively to reinforce his neck. The invisible pressure faltered slightly against the barrier, but not enough to free him.

'Where's Joey?' He twisted his gaze sideways, panic flashing across his face as he caught sight of his companion, and felt his fear curdle into anger.

"Son of a bitch," he rasped under his breath. Joey was climbing the statue, not running to help but scrambling up its stone arm, reaching greedily for the book as if Mathew weren't even there.

The hand on his throat tightened. His vision flickered at the edges as he swung his katana wildly, the blade slicing through empty air. The creature's body was hidden in the shadows, its grip unyielding, its presence heavy and suffocating.

Then, just as Joey's fingers brushed the edge of the book, something moved, a flicker of motion, a blur of darkness that passed over him. In the next heartbeat, Joey was flung from the statue, crashing hard onto the floor below. The impact forced a rough moan from his chest as he rolled onto his side, staring up in dazed confusion.

Another figure loomed above him. A second creature, its form barely visible, had already launched itself toward him before he could even recover.

At that same moment, Mathew felt a sharp, searing pain spread across his neck. His eyes darted down, and his stomach turned at the sight of the creature's hands, its skin was split open, thick dark green blood leaking out and eating through his aura like acid. The protective layer around his throat hissed and dissolved where the blood touched it.

'They're using their own blood as a weapon,' he realized with horror.

Panic clawed its way up his chest as the burning sensation intensified. His aura was failing, fragmenting under the corrosive touch. A few more seconds and it would reach his skin.

Mathew scrambled backward. He threw himself onto his back in desperation, his weight crushing the monster beneath him for a brief instant before it started to thrash. Its claws dug into his neck as he rolled and struggled, the two of them twisting violently across the ground, both fighting to survive in the dim, flickering light of that unholy chamber.

The more Mathew struggled, the weaker the monster's grip became, until finally, with a violent twist and a burst of strength, he tore its hands away from his throat. Gasping for air, he staggered back, his lungs burning, and in the same instant raised his katana. The blade sliced cleanly through the creature's chest in one swift motion, the strike accompanied by a dull crack and a low, wet sound that echoed faintly across the stone floor.

He didn't relax. His breath came in uneven bursts as his eyes darted about the dim room, his body tense, senses sharpened to their limits. That vigilance was the only reason he noticed movement, a flicker of shadow on the edge of his vision, and was able to react when two more figures lunged out from the darkness.

The first came from the left, claws slashing through the air. Mathew pivoted sharply, raising his katana just in time to block the blow. Sparks of aura flared at the point of contact, the impact reverberating through his arms. Before the second creature could strike, he lashed out with his leg, kicking it squarely in the chest and sending it tumbling back into the shadows.

He focused on the first one. The monster swung again, faster this time, but Mathew bent his katana to the side, letting the attack slide harmlessly past him before stepping in close and driving his fist forward. Aura enveloped his hand as he struck its face, and he felt the solid crunch of bone giving way beneath his knuckles. The creature flew back, crashing against the wall with a heavy thud.

Without hesitation, he turned to the second one. Its movements were sharper, more controlled, it didn't hesitate. It leapt forward, both arms raised, and as it swung, he noticed a narrow slit open across each of its palms. From those openings, streams of green blood erupted, flinging outward like liquid blades.

Mathew threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the splatter as it hissed against the ground, eating through the stone with an acidic crackle. He was just about to rush forward when the world was swallowed by light.

A blinding flash of yellow erupted across the room, sudden, harsh, and disorienting. His vision vanished under its brilliance, pain stabbing behind his eyes. He stumbled backward, disoriented, instinctively retreating from the unseen threat, heart hammering in his chest.

Then came the sound, wet drops striking the floor around him, the faint hiss as they burned through stone. Each drop that touched his skin seared like fire, the pain sharp and immediate, forcing a grimace onto his face as he tried to suppress the urge to shout.

He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing, letting his other senses take over. The faint gurgles of creatures filled the silence, footsteps scraped softly against the floor, and something heavy shifted nearby.

He waited.

And when the sound drew too close, when the footsteps became a low, thunderous beat in his ears, he moved. His katana cut through the darkness in a clean, fluid arc, aura flaring dimly along the blade.

The monster didn't even have time to react. Its head separated cleanly from its body, the strike so smooth that the corpse stood still for a heartbeat before collapsing.

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