Amukelo's wide eyes locked onto the Mountain Wurm as it lunged forward toward the golem with terrifying speed. The ground quaked beneath its massive weight, and the sheer size of the creature made Amukelo's knees feel weak. The golem, though seemingly sluggish when Amukelo had first seen it, suddenly moved with a shocking agility. It charged forward, its massive stone legs slamming into the earth like thunderclaps.
When the two titans clashed, the sound was deafening. The Wurm's obsidian-scaled body coiled around the golem's torso, its powerful tail lashing out and shattering the ground beneath it. The golem countered by slamming its enormous fists into the Wurm's body, chunks of hardened stone breaking off and scattering across the valley like deadly shrapnel.
Amukelo stood frozen, both awestruck and terrified. The raw power of these creatures was beyond anything he had ever imagined. He took an instinctive step back, but in his panic, he forgot about the cliff directly behind him. His boot caught on the loose rocks at the edge, and as the earth trembled from another clash of the titans, the ground beneath him gave way, and he fell down the cliff.
The sensation of free-falling stole the breath from his lungs. The wind roared in his ears as the jagged rocks of the cliffside blurred past him. His body twisted instinctively, trying to brace for the impact. He threw his arms out in front of him in a desperate attempt to break his fall. The collision was brutal. His left arm took the brunt of the impact, and the sickening crack of bone was drowned out by the agonizing pain that shot through him. He rolled across the rocky ground, his body battered and broken by the unforgiving landing.
When he finally came to a stop, he lay on his back, his breaths shallow and ragged. Every part of him screamed in pain. He coughed, and a spray of blood spattered onto the ground beside him. His chest burned, and he realized that some of his ribs had been broken, their jagged ends likely piercing his lungs. His left arm, twisted at an unnatural angle, throbbed with a pain so intense that it left him dizzy. He tried to lift it, but the limb was useless, hanging limply at his side.
"Is this my end?" he whispered hoarsely. His vision blurred, and tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks. "Why, God, why? Why is this happening to me?"
As his head lolled to the side, he spotted something behind him—a cave entrance carved into the cliff face. For a fleeting moment, hope flared within him. Perhaps there was shelter there. But before he could make any attempt to move, another thunderous clash echoed across the valley. Amukelo's head snapped upward, his eyes widening in terror as he watched the Mountain Wurm rear back, its coiled body tightening around the golem. The golem responded with a powerful swing of its massive arm, slamming its fist into the Wurm's head. The force of the blow sent chunks of rock flying in all directions.
Amukelo's heart stopped as he noticed one of the massive stones hurtling toward him. His breath hitched, and time seemed to slow as the boulder descended. He tried to move, but his broken body refused to cooperate. All he could do was watch as the rock crashed into the ground mere inches from where he lay. The impact sent a shockwave through the earth, and shards of stone rained down around him.
His chest heaved as he stared at the massive boulder beside him. "That could've… that could've been me," he muttered, his voice trembling. The near-death experience sent a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through his battered body.
Amukelo tried to push himself up, but when he leaned on his left arm for support, searing pain shot through him, and he collapsed with a cry. He glanced down at the limb, his blood running cold as he saw the dark discoloration spreading up his arm—the poison from the Cave Crawler's bite was advancing.
"I can't die here," he murmured, his voice shaking. "Not like this."
Gritting his teeth, Amukelo forced himself to roll onto his stomach. His right hand found the hilt of his sword, and he used it as a crutch to push himself up. His legs trembled beneath him, one of them twisted unnaturally, but he managed to stand. The world spun around him, and his vision blurred again, but he clung to consciousness with sheer determination.
Each step was agonizing as he limped toward the cave. The ground beneath him trembled again, and he stumbled, barely catching himself on his sword. Another clash echoed through the valley, and the air was filled with the sound of stone grinding against scales. He dared a glance over his shoulder and saw the titans still locked in their ferocious battle. The Mountain Wurm roared, its massive tail whipping through the air and striking the golem with enough force to send it staggering.
Amukelo turned away, focusing all his energy on reaching the cave. His breaths were shallow, and his body felt like it was on the verge of collapse, but he pushed forward.
He leaned heavily on his sword, the blade acting as a crutch to keep him moving forward. The broken ribs made every inhale a torment. His left arm dangled uselessly, the discoloration spreading further as the poison worked its way through his bloodstream.
Then another thunderous clash shook the ground beneath his feet. Amukelo stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the dirt. He turned his head back toward the source of the sound and saw, to his horror, that the cave's entrance was collapsing further. Rocks tumbled down in a deadly cascade, sealing off the path behind him. His breath quickened as panic began to claw at his chest.
"No… no, no, no…" he muttered desperately. The idea of being trapped in the darkness with nowhere to run sent icy tendrils of fear through his mind.
He forced himself to move, limping further into the cave, though every step felt like dragging his body through a pit of fire. Another crash echoed from the valley outside, and with it came a fresh wave of tremors. More rocks began to fall from the ceiling. Amukelo's movements became frantic as the walls and ceiling around him seemed to threaten collapse with every shudder.
His breaths came faster now, shallow and uneven as panic overtook him. "Will I... die here?" he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. "How pathetic… I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mom. I failed you. I failed my promise."
Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face, and his vision blurred as he limped forward blindly. He shouted again, not knowing whether he was screaming at himself, at God, or at the overwhelming darkness surrounding him.
The ground trembled violently once more, and more stones rained down behind him. His heart pounded as he quickened his limping pace, the sword trembling under the weight of his failing body. Just when it felt like he could go no further, the darkness gave way to a faint, almost imperceptible light ahead.
Amukelo stumbled forward, the light growing stronger with each painful step. Finally, he passed through a narrow tunnel that opened up into a massive chamber. The sight before him stole the breath from his lungs, even amidst the agony coursing through his body.
The chamber was enormous, the ceiling soaring so high above that it disappeared into the shadows. The walls were etched with intricate carvings, ancient and weathered with time. They depicted scenes of warriors, battles, and what appeared to be celestial beings—figures radiating light, locked in combat against creatures of darkness. The carvings glowed faintly, the light pulsing softly as if the room itself were alive.
At the far end of the chamber stood a set of massive doors, at least twenty meters tall. They were made of a dark, weathered stone, and their surface was adorned with ancient symbols that seemed to shift and shimmer when viewed from different angles.
Flanking the doors were seven statues, each one towering and imposing. Each statue was distinct, carved with incredible detail despite their immense size.
The first central statue was a short elf woman, her pointed ears angled slightly backward. She stood barefoot, with her hands gently cupped before her chest. Between them was a carved crystal emitting a faint, pale glow, though she held no weapon. Her long hair was flowing loosely behind her shoulders. She wore a plain robe, belted at the waist, without armor or ornament. Despite her size, the statue was placed higher than the others on a slightly elevated platform.
To her right, the second statue was a human warrior clad in layered plate armor. He held a longsword, that strikingly resembled Amukelo's sword, with both hands, the blade planted into the stone beneath him. His helmet had a narrow slit for the eyes, and his armor bore chips and dents. A cloak draped over his shoulders, stiff as if frozen mid-flutter.
The third statue was an orc, bulkier than all the others. He stood with legs apart, gripping a massive two-handed axe resting on his shoulder. His tusks were carved with rough precision, and a chainmail skirt hung down over thick leather boots. His muscles bulged beneath layered furs and armor plates.
The fourth statue depicted a male archer, lean and sharp-eyed, clad in fitted scale armor. He held a long, curved bow in his left hand, an arrow nocked and resting but not yet drawn. A quiver crossed his back diagonally, and his hood was pushed down behind his shoulders. His hair was pulled into a short, tight braid that reached the base of his neck, and a small scar was carved above his brow.
To the left of the central figure, the fifth statue showed a male swordsman with a broad, commanding stance. He wore a split coat of mail reinforced with layered plates across his shoulders and chest. His longsword was planted firmly in the ground before him, hands resting on its pommel. A worn cape flowed down his back, and his jawline was chiseled.
The sixth was a female mage wearing layered robes with armored pauldrons and a long staff held vertically in front of her, both hands resting on it. The staff's tip resembled a blossoming crystal. Her hair was tied into a single tight bun, and her face was stern and angular.
The seventh statue depicted a slender young girl, not older than sixteen. She held a tall, runed staff in her right hand, its base resting firm against the stone beneath her feet. Her robes were intricately layered. Her hair was long and straight, swept behind her shoulders.
Amukelo's knees buckled as he took in the sight. He collapsed at the center of the chamber, his sword falling from his hand. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as his battered body finally gave out. Blood dripped steadily from his broken arm, pooling beneath him, but for a moment, he barely noticed the pain.
He looked up at the statues and the massive doors behind them, awe and fear mingling in his tear-streaked face. His heart pounded as he whispered, "What… is this place?"