Arthev crouched in the narrow alley off Jadeheart Crossing, the faint glint of his vision tracing residual trails of light only he could see. His focus shattered as a sudden pressure bloomed behind his eyes.
A ruin filled his mind. Not a memory, but a presence. Moss-eaten stone, a forest's deep green silence, and a low, familiar thrum of power.
"Again", he thought. "It is happening again."
A guttural voice, old and impatient, grated in his consciousness. "What is it now? You look as if you have seen a ghost."
Arthev did not flinch."I do not know what it is, not exactly. But it feels like a relic. Something bound to a soul. It is calling. Again."
The vision vanished,leaving only a heavy, wordless hum in its wake.
In one fluid motion, Arthev rose. His cloak, dark and practical, swept behind him as he slipped from the alley. He turned not toward the city's heart, where Kael's endless dramas unfolded, but toward its wild edge. He was not answering a summons. He was following a whisper, something far older than any king's command.
------
The Jade Gate loomed, a barrier of ancient, cold stone. Arthev's gloved fingers brushed its surface, finding the familiar sigils. He focused his energy, a subtle probe into the stone's heart, searching for the lock's logic.
A deep hum vibrated through the corridor. A vine of pure, spectral energy lashed out from the stone, aiming for his wrist. His Shinragan flared, the world slowing. He sidestepped smoothly. With fluid motion his Sand Dominion erupted around his forearm, meeting the attack with a sharp hiss of grinding particles that dissolved the energy.
From within, Shukaku's voice was a dry rumble. "It fights back. Do you plan to ask for permission, or are we breaking it down?"
Arthev's eyes remained fixed on the runes, analyzing their sequence. "Force is a failure of comprehension," he said, his voice low. "This was made to be understood, not broken."
He drew the pendant from beneath his cloak. His energy flowed into it, and its engraved runes ignited with a soft, steady light. The gate answered, its own markings glowing in unison. A quiet click echoed in the stillness. The massive stone split down the middle, sliding open without a sound.
Beyond lay a dark corridor, descending into the earth. The air was thick with the smell of old jade and the metallic tang of latent power.
He stepped through. The atmosphere grew heavy, a pressure that made breathing difficult and raised the hairs on his neck. The light warped; the silence felt stretched thin.
"This place is a wound in time itself," he whispered.
He paused at the top of the descent, his gaze fixed on the darkness below.
"It remembers."
He took the first step down.
----
The jade steps spiraled downward, worn smooth by time. Pale orbs set into the walls cast a faint emerald light, just enough to see by. With every step, the pull from the pendant against his chest grew stronger, its rhythm syncing with his own soul power. His Shinragan cast a slow, crimson spiral on the walls, watching.
A low rumble began, a vibration deep in the stone that grew into a shudder. The walls trembled.
A sigil to his right flared to life.
Jade spikes erupted from both walls, shooting across the passage with lethal speed. Their tips gleamed with a dark, viscous liquid that hissed faintly in the air.
Time seemed to stretch. In the heightened perception of his Shinragan, Arthev saw every trajectory. He dropped into a low roll, his cloak whipping around him. A spike aimed for his shoulder was met by a sudden surge of sand that erupted from his soul ring. It intercepted the spike with a solid crunch. The venom sizzled against the grains, eating away at them with a sharp, acrid smell.
He rose to his feet, a fine layer of sand dusting from his sleeve. "Precise calibration," he noted, a clinical observation.
"Quit admiring the craftsmanship and move! "Shukaku's voice roared in his mind. "This is not an art gallery!"
Arthev didn't bother with a reply. He pushed forward, his perception extending through the roots of his Divine Tree soul, feeling the aware energy saturating the stone.
"The core is close," he murmured. "Its presence is warping the local energy field."
The corridor ended abruptly at a sheer ledge. A vast cavern opened before him, its walls threaded with veins of quartz that pulsed with a soft, captured light. The pendant at his chest flared, its runes burning like embers.
A wave of pure, potent power washed over him, so tangible it felt like a change in pressure.
Arthev closed his eyes, drawing a single, steadying breath.
Then, the world bent.
---
When the light faded, Arthev stood in a different place.
The cavern was immense, its scale beyond anything natural, carved with impossible precision. He turned slowly, his Shinragan activating,Its telescopic vision pierced the gloom, scanning every inch of the smooth, curved walls. No archways, no corridors. No way out.
"It is a sealed chamber," Arthev stated, his voice flat. "No visible entry or exit."
"You have a peculiar talent for getting locked in glowing tombs" , Shukaku grumbled in his mind.
Arthev did not reply. He focused, and the world shifted within his enhanced sight. Layers of illusion fell away. What had seemed like empty air now shimmered, revealing a perfect, circular barrier enclosing the entire cavern. It was seamless, humming with a low frequency that spoke of profound power.
His eyes widened slightly. "Not a tomb. A vault. This is a containment field, masterfully crafted. It is not merely to keep others out, but to keep something in."
The air grew dense, charged with a silent, watching presence.
A flicker of movement. Without turning, Arthev's 360° vision registered the threat emerging from the shadows above.
It dropped from the ceiling, hitting the jade floor with a thunderous thud.
"BOOOM!"
The impact cracked the jade floor. Arthev pivoted, his cloak whipping around him.
The creature rose from its crouch, standing nearly ten meters tall. It was gaunt and lupine, a construct of black muscle and obsidian scales. Pale veins glowed beneath its skin like trapped lightning. A bladed tail, tipped with bone, sliced the air. Its head was a featureless mask of carved sigils, from which a four-part jaw opened, dripping venom that sizzled on the stone. Curved quartz horns hummed with latent energy.
It scraped a single claw across the floor, carving a deep furrow into the jade. It had no eyes, but its entire form was fixed on him.
A low, primal energy coiled around it, a palpable threat.
Arthev's expression remained unchanged, his Shinragan silently analyzing its form, its soul signature, its connection to the chamber itself.
Behind him, the barrier pulsed once, softly.
The creature did not move. It just simply waited.
To be continued...