Meanwhile, as Mr. Valen stepped through the wall, he felt a sickening warmth assail him, the seamless darkness beyond disappearing in an instant.

The moment his feet touched the ground on the other side, the world dissolved and reformed in another instant and what lay before him was an impossible, sprawling labyrinth.

Walls of angry red, breathing flesh rose to impossible heights, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic, "Badump! Badump!" And at that moment he heard the faint voice call out again, its voice bouncing against the walls. 'Help. Me.'

The 'road' beneath his feet was a tangled mess of thick veins and bloody sinew, pulsing and pumping blood through the gaps.

The air smelled of thick, rotten blood and undercooked meat, a stench so strong that it forced its way up his nostrils and into the back of his throat.

At this instant, Mr. Valen shook his head as a low, sub-audible hum vibrated in his teeth, disorientating him. 'What is this ghastly place?' he thought as he took a single assessing step forward, a faint squishing sound accompanying his movements.

Suddenly, {Tsk,} a familiar demonic voice snickered, the sound like a razor blade dancing inside his skull. {You can speak, Valen, I will not penalize you here.}

He nodded in response, his breath light in the new environment.

{We have to traverse this?} The Whisper Stalker's voice then boomed in his mind, dripping with contempt. {How… demeaning that I must be put to a test despite my goodwill. I would have you turn back at once, but I know you lack the competence to break this simple illusion. Hands on the floor; I shall assist.}

Mr. Valen at these words did not respond. He merely stood still, his face scrunching at the noise.

After a moment, he spoke again, "I do not want your help. This place is fascinating, it'd be a shame if I couldn't explore it. I'll find a way out on my own."

{You will die. Left, right, center? It matters not.} The Stalker responded. {They all lead to the same end. This is not a garden path for a stroll. But by all means,} it sneered, {take your pick. Let us play this dull game. Perhaps I will enjoy watching you become lost.}

At those words, Mr. Valen sighed, his face expressionless as he reached out and pressed his palm flat against the wet, warm wall of flesh to his right.

{That's better,} the Whisper Stalker quipped, its mockery replaced by a flicker of gravity. {Do not panic.}

"Badump!" Mr. Valen felt his heartbeat increase at those words pounding against his ribcage, and in an instant, his right arm turned pitch black.

But unlike the other times he had transformed before, it was only his right arms, his tails did not sprout, and his mind was clear.

"Bam!" An audible pulse of energy seeped into the wall, and in response it shattered immediately, strangely, creating a chain response in the solitary labyrinth.

The space around him did not just crumble or break apart, no, it simply folded in on itself, the towering walls of flesh dissolving into motes of black light, the sinewy floor evaporating into mist.

The oppressive hum that disordered him was also cut off abruptly, the transition so swift and absolute that it left no trace. One moment, he was in a hellish labyrinth; and the next, he was standing on coarse, grey sand.

Yes sand.

The air was now unnaturally still, cold, and utterly quiet.

Mr. Valen looked to the sky, as one might yearn for salvation, yet all he saw was a dull gray void stretching into eternity

Before him, stretched a still, black sea similar to the one outside, and yet, its waters were calm, reflecting nothing.

And he was not alone.

In the center of the small, barren island, perhaps twenty paces from the water's edge, stood a large cross.

The cross was of the same polished black colour as the sea, its form jagged and twisting as if carved from obsidian specifically to inflict maximum agony on its victim

On this cross was a Skilion, crucified by thick dark nails, black blood leaking from its form, some bones jutted out from its side as though its body, accustomed to hunching, had been forcibly straightened

Its long, winding arms trembled, and its claws appeared to have been ripped out, exposing raw, bleeding flesh and golden blood that dripped unendingly.

The top half of its bat-like face twitched, its huge black bulging eyes peering at Mr. Valen with no visible emotion.

'How grim,' Mr. Valen frowned as he looked to the bottom of the cross.

At the bottom of the cross were people, or at least malnourished things that looked like people. They moved faintly, creating the illusion of vitality, but they were better off dead, as was the look in their soulless eyes.

Walking closer, Mr. Valen saw that their mouths were stitched permanently open, allowing for the droplets of blood drip into them.

Each time they consumed a droplet, a visible, powerful golden wave would pass below the grey sand and into the sea.

Strange runes and inscriptions littered the ground in the form of a circle, but just as Mr. Valen was about to step within the bounds of the circle, the Skilion spoke, its outward-facing teeth widening. "Stop, mother or it will imprison you too."

Its voice was like the cry of a child, heavily sympathetic, and the whisper stalker within him seemed to share in its sentiment. {How vile, to think they would use my people like this!}

Mr. Valen raised a brow at those words but did not speak a word.

«Aren't these Skilion's killed on a daily basis? What's so different about this?»

Keeping his distance, Mr. Valen then spoke, his voice loud. "What do you want?"

"Me. Not. Want. Anything. He... He," the beast struggled to speak, its voice cracking.

«He? Who is this he?»

{Ask it if it's in pain,} the whisper stalker urged in his mind, prompting Mr. Valen to raise a brow again. 'Aren't these Skilion's killed every day, what difference does this make?'

There was a brief stillness in his head after those words, (a feeling Mr. Valen missed, but the feeling was short-lived). {It is better for a Skilion to die than to be subject to such a fate. Look at its wounds, look at the humans below; how long have they been here? A hundred years? A thousand?}

At the Whisper Stalker's words, Mr. Valen did indeed look at the wound and noticed that it was constantly healing.

'That's interesting,' he thought, his brows relaxing. 'But I still find your current sentimental state unsightly.'

"Are you in pain?" Mr. Valen then asked, his voice calm, uninterested but he was heard.

"Y-yes," the being stuttered in response, its head falling slightly.

"On a scale of one to ten, how high would you rate the pain?" Mr. Valen inquired further.

"T-ten," the being responded immediately, this time, but then suddenly a golden flash broke through the sky, temporarily blinding Mr. Valen, who did not so much as flinch; he merely squinted his eyes.

"Forgive my delay, Valen," a more refined voice said, and as the light calmed, Mr. Valen noted the Skilion, but this time its black eyes had turned golden.

Noting this obvious change in demeanour, Mr. Valen asked. "Who are you?"

"I have only one name," the being responded immediately, its tone light, as it added. "So you have integrated the power of that being into yourself. What a fascinating situation. I struggled to believe that you could achieve something so bizarre."

"You have yet to answer my question," Mr. Valen spoke again, his face expressionless. "Identify yourself. State your purpose for summoning me."

"I simply wish to warn you, since you are the one who is most likely to succeed," the Skilion spoke, tilting its head. "You are currently the weakest of your siblings. When you arrive at Verdina, you will be killed by one of them. We can't have that now, can we?"

As the thing spoke, it suddenly trembled and a flicker of golden light appeared before Mr. Valen, streaking into his chest much faster than he could react.

The feeling was warm and invasive but not particularly bad. "Our time is running out, take that it might help you survive."

With those words, the golden light in the Skilion's eyes dimmed and it lay there, unmoving.

Suddenly, the world flashed before Mr. Valen's eyes, and he suddenly found himself back at the flesh labyrinth, but by now he was used to the rapid change.

'Care to explain why you suddenly grew quiet?' Mr. Valen thought of asking the Whisper Stalker a direct question.

After a brief moment, the Whisper Stalker responded, its voice grim. {I had to, I fear that if I had gone quiet in time, we would both have been dead, nevertheless, we have company.}

'Yeah, I know,' Mr. Valen thought, looking towards a turn in the fleshy path, where the shady footsteps of a being could be sensed approaching.

«I seriously do have to expand my knowledge on magic; I find my repeated passivity on the topic distasteful.»

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Alright, so I'm kinda rambling here because I accidentally posted the wrong chapter earlier. And Webnovel, in its infinite wisdom, has this absolutely bonkers rule where your edited chapter can't have a lower word count than the previous one. I am NOT about to slap 400 words of meaningless filler into the story my artistic integrity (and my dignity) refuses. So, consider this a very chaotic, very meta author's note instead.

Let's see… hmmm. If you're reading this from anywhere that isn't Webnovel, then you're probably a pirate. You should be wearing an eye patch and everything, maybe even have a parrot on your shoulder. Squawk! Please be kind enough to sail your ship over to the original website; the author (me) gets paid in exposure and vague feelings of validation.

Also, a heads-up: my update speed is going to slow down for a bit. I believe I'm coming down with something. (I've always wanted to say that dramatically.) You never truly know how mentally draining writing can be until you're actually doing it. It's cool though, I'm not dying, just temporarily deflating.

I should also take this random opportunity to mention that I'm working on another project called The Primordial Predator And His Harem Of Monsters. It's really dark and has R18 sensual content. (It's porn.) It most certainly is not… unless…? No, I'm kidding. Anyway, it's about this emotionally detached MC named Mr. Valen. I know, lazy naming, but I just like the name Valen, okay? The guy was kidnapped as a child and raised by a serial killer, which, unsurprisingly, messed him up real bad. Now he's trying to be normal, but he's basically a primal thing that had to hunt other things, and he ends up dragging everyone along with him on this horrifying joyride where everything just keeps getting worse and worse…

That is such a poor, utterly inadequate way to describe the swirling chaos I'm writing, but hey I'm rambling! How is this not four hundred words yet? It is so much easier to just type whatever nonsense comes into my head; I do say so myself. There, that should do it. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.