The spark that had erupted from within him was no ordinary fire. It hadn't burned the leeches in the way flame should. It devoured them in an instant, not consuming their flesh entirely but something deeper. Like it had torn through their souls.
Elian stared, stunned. The numbness that had taken over his body shattered and he jolted upright, breathing hard.
His limbs were still sore, and blood leaked from the wounds, but it wasn't gushing anymore. The flame… it had seared the bite marks closed.
The damage remained, but the bleeding had stopped. Even his shoulders that were torn open by teeth, was scorched shut.
He rubbed the spots where the leeches had latched on. The skin was tender and half-burned, but it was better than dying.
He let out a long shaky breath.
"This is the worst day of my damn life," he muttered to no one.
Not even life in the slums had been this brutal. At least there, he'd known what to expect. This place—this cursed Grave Realm—was madness beyond anything.
And the so-called teachers back there? they were almost useless. Every one of them. They came and spoke just a little knowledge, and never bothered to tell them anything real. No one ever said the Grave Realm would be like this.
About a minute passed before Elian pushed himself to his feet again. He could move now. Still weak, but the crushing fatigue had eased—just enough.
"Maybe that fire helped me recover a little. I don't know what it was… but it saved me." he thought.
He glanced down at his body again, at the wounds sealed by the red flame. Then turned toward the large dark arch of a door.
No answers would come now. So he kept walking.
He entered the shadowy passage beyond, a tunnel carved in cracked stone and choked with dust. His pace was uneven, limping slightly, but he pressed on with his sword held tight in one hand.
Eventually, the tunnel opened up. Broken pillars flanked the path and crumbled walls split wide to reveal the outside once more.
He stepped out and felt the cold air brush his skin.
Looking up, Elian gritted his teeth.
The sky was no longer that surreal spectrum of colors he had seen before. Now, it was red—deep, swollen red, like a sky drowned in blood.
Midnight had come. This is called The Red Mist Hour.
"Shit…"
He cursed under his breath and started moving again, faster this time. He spotted another intact corridor ahead and rushed toward it.
Around him, distant screams echoed through the ruins. Some sounded human.
Then came another sound. It was the sound of metal clanking and heavy footsteps dragging across ashen ground from the left.
Elian dropped to the ground instantly and buried half his face in ash, using one arm to cover the glow of his chest crystal.
The steps drew closer, slow and deliberate, each one followed by the scrape of iron.
The shape moved into view.
"That's not human," he thought, heart hammering.
No one else taking the Trial wore full armor like that.
And now he could see it clearly. A towering humanoid over three meters tall, wrapped in pitch-black plate armor. A massive greatsword rested across its shoulder, chipped and rusted with age. Its eyes burned red.
One glance, and Elian knew that it was another Grave Realm monster. A deadly one.
He didn't move or breathe too loud. Just kept still, his face pressed into the cold ash.
Then the creature stopped walking.
It dropped to one knee beside something—a small corpse.
A child. A boy, limp and lifeless.
The monster leaned closer and muttered something in a hoarse guttural tongue. Elian couldn't understand it. But the moment the words ended, the boy's body stirred.
The child opened his eyes, his expression blank. Then he nodded.
And together, they vanished into the shadows silently, like wraiths fading into mist.
Elian didn't rise for a long time. Only lay there, breath shallow.
"What the hell was that…?"
After making sure the armored giant was nowhere in sight—and no other monster stirred nearby—Elian pushed himself up from the ash. His legs trembling slightly. He then broke into a sprint toward the tunnel ahead.
His thoughts raced. That thing—whatever it was—if he hadn't spotted it in time, he would've been cleaved in half by that giant sword.
He didn't stop running until the darkness swallowed him again.
Inside the corridor, he slowed down and caught his breath, each step echoing along the stone walls. For a while, there was nothing but dust, silence, and the faint throb of pain in his shoulder.
Then he felt it.
A pull.
It came from the right. Subtle at first, like a whisper tugging at the edge of his thoughts.
He turned his head and saw another massive door looming just beyond a split in the corridor wall.
The pull grew stronger. It wasn't violent. It didn't feel like a trap. In fact, his instincts didn't scream danger.
But he still moved with caution.
Elian stepped through the doorway, hand tight on his sword. What greeted him on the other side was unexpected.
The chamber was huge, shaped like a personal sanctum that was clearly not built for a human.
It was lit from above by a gaping crack in the ceiling, where the crimson sky leaked its glow into the room. The faint red light bathed everything in the same oppressive hue.
And at the far end of the chamber stood a high-backed chair carved from black stone. Smooth and imposing. Too large for any man.
He moved closer, checking every corner and shadow. Making sure no monsters lingered in this place.
When he finally reached it, something in him stirred again.
His fingers rose on their own and he touched the chair.
Flames suddenly erupted.
A dark orange blaze swallowed the stone chair in an instan and engulfed his hand and body.
Elian gasped, expecting pain. But it never came.
The fire crawled across his skin, licking his arm and chest. However, it didn't scorch him. The heat was there, but it was soft, warm, and calming.
He stared, stunned, as the fire continued to burn along his body.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
---