The underground passage ended abruptly.
A massive gate stood before them, ancient and imposing. On either side of the corridor, blue-flamed torches burned steadily, their light cold and unnatural. The flames did not flicker, nor did they consume the air around them. They simply existed—as if time itself had forgotten to extinguish them.
The group slowed, shock settling in.
"This place…" the princess whispered. "How old is it?"
No one answered.
Sylas's eyes narrowed. The passage was ancient—older than kingdoms, older than memory. And yet the torches still burned, defying decay. That alone told him this place was not meant for the living.
Then—
A sound echoed from behind them.
A deep, distorted roar.
The Tier Six monster.
It was still coming.
Panic surged instantly. The captain tightened his grip on his weapon, eyes darting toward the darkness of the passage they had just escaped. The princess stiffened, fear flashing openly across her face.
That thing is relentless, Sylas thought grimly. It's not giving up.
His instincts screamed at him.
Danger lay ahead.
Not the kind that tore flesh or shattered bone—but something deeper, older, more irreversible.
Yet turning back was impossible.
The monster was behind them.
The only hope was forward.
"Run!" the captain ordered.
They moved.
Sylas forced himself onward despite the pain exploding through his leg. The fall earlier had left it badly injured—every step sent agony tearing through his body. Blood soaked into his torn clothing, but he clenched his teeth and endured.
Pain is temporary, he told himself. Death is permanent.
The passage opened suddenly into a vast hall.
They skidded to a halt.
At the center of the chamber stood a throne, carved from dark stone. Upon it sat a skeleton, ancient and unmoving, its hollow eye sockets staring endlessly into nothingness.
Above the throne floated a strange stone sphere, suspended in midair. The surface of the sphere shimmered faintly, as if something inside was sealed—alive, waiting.
To one side of the hall stood a massive, unfamiliar instrument, its design alien and complex, clearly meant for experimentation. Ancient runes were etched along its surface, pulsing faintly.
The captain and the princess stared in awe.
"An ancient relic…" the captain murmured. "A treasure, perhaps."
They stepped forward instinctively, drawn to the floating stone.
Sylas did not move.
His urge to approach the sphere burned fiercely in his chest—but he suppressed it. Reckless action here meant death. He was still weak. Still expendable.
If I reach for it, he thought coldly, the captain will kill me before the monster ever does.
Instead, Sylas stayed back, scanning the chamber carefully. His eyes traced the walls, the ceiling, the shadows—searching for exits, for traps, for anything that did not belong.
That was when he saw it.
Writing.
Half-hidden beneath centuries of dust, etched deeply into the stone wall.
Sylas limped toward it and brushed the dust aside.
The words emerged slowly.
"Each being is granted one awakened skill.
Why not two?
The Dome awakens only one—
because each soul carries only one skill.
But if a human can contain two souls…
can two skills awaken?"
A chill ran down Sylas's spine.
His breath caught.
Two souls.
His head throbbed violently.
The headaches.
The memories.
The pain that had followed him since birth.
This place…
This trial…
Realization slammed into him like a blade.
Before he could move—
Before he could speak—
The captain reached out.
His hand touched the floating stone.
Sylas's voice echoed through the chamber, sharp and urgent, tearing through the silence.
"STOP—!"
The word rang through the hall like a warning bell.
And the stone began to react.