The path, once adorned with polished rocks, now unveiled a grimy and dilapidated entrance crafted from cracked stones. Five pillars stood ominously nearby, etched with crimson runes, and each showed ominous traces of blood splatter. Crim sighed as he gazed upon this sinister sight, realizing that the time had come.
"Too bad, I guess," he mused silently, beginning to draw his sword. He had surmised much earlier that the exit from this accursed place could only be unlocked through an act of slaughter, a gruesome expectation set by the madman who slumbered beside an ocean of corpses, the same madman who had condemned them to this nightmarish realm.
As Crim took a decisive step forward, he muttered to himself, "What's that?"
The other captives, the sacrificial lambs in this grotesque scenario, turned their heads toward the eerie shrine. Their curiosity overcame them, and the Brute and Poisoner cautiously approached, reaching out to touch the invisible barrier. As they did, the barrier shimmered crimson, repelling their attempts.
Meanwhile, the young hero and the frail girl circled the mysterious pillars, their young faces filled with awe and excitement. Their naivety grated on Crim, knowing all too well what he must do next.
With a single swift movement, he stepped back and unsheathed his sword. Before he could blink, a swish of chains severed the heads of the unsuspecting captives with a grove of blood.
Crim froze, his gaze fixated on the musky woodcarver who wielded the gruesome whip chain. The chains ended in wicked, double-bladed tips, each one molded seamlessly into the metal, allowing the woodcarver to retain full control with both hands-free.
"Interesting," Crim noted, admiring the weapon's deadly flexibility.
"Now, knight, what are you gonna do-" the woodcarver began, only to stop abruptly, bewildered by Crim's actions. He had prepared a speech to initiate a battle, but Crim's lack of remorse left him disoriented. "What are you doing?!?"
Crim calmly placed the severed heads, one by one, upon the pedestals, much to the woodcarver's astonishment. With cold detachment, he spoke,
"I'm going inside the shrine. What made you think these pillars or whatever required blood splatter? To be honest, I should thank you for making my life easier. I don't have to feel any guilt about killing innocent children.
So, come at me."
As Crim locked eyes with the woodcarver, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade. The severed head lay at their feet, a gruesome testament to the impending battle. The murderer raised his weapon, his chain whip with a wicked stench of blood, and the blade-tipped end with fresh blood left from the prior massacre the man committed.
In response, Crim assumed a low stance that guarded his face, his muscles taut and his fists clenched, ready for the clash.
The woodcarver wasted no time, the whip uncoiling with a sharp hiss. The metal blades at its end gleamed malevolently as it lashed out, aiming for Crim's throat. Quick on his feet, Crim dodged to the side, the whip narrowly missing him. The young man countered with a swift punch aimed at the woodcarver's face, but the seasoned fighter anticipated the move and jerked his head back.
Their dance continued a deadly ballet of dodges and strikes. The woodcarver's chain whip was a weapon of precision and reach, but Crim's bare fists were fast and unpredictable. The woodcarver attempted to lash Crim's legs, but the young man leaped, his body becoming a blur of motion as he avoided the attack.
Suddenly, Crim made his move. He lunged at the woodcarver, a ferocious energy radiating from him. With speed and precision, he landed a blow to the woodcarver's midsection, winding him. The chain whip fell slack as the man gasped for breath. Seizing the opportunity, Crim delivered a devastating uppercut to his adversary's chin.
The woodcarver staggered, his eyes glazing over as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. Crim didn't let up. He sent the woodcarver sprawling to the ground with a final powerful punch, his chain whip clattering away.
As the dust settled, Crim hoped on the unconscious murderer, clumping away at his face and drowning it in blood, he opened his swollen lips and begged for mercy, "Please stop"
After hearing this Crim grinned, Delivering a swift and dynamic punch on the man's face.
Once again he was reminded that his body in this world was overpowered, he could feel strength tense through his muscles, but he still felt sad about his lack of magic.
The young man snatched the rusted blade from the screeching corpse, momentarily leaving the lifeless body. He took the broken hilt that the man had severed and improvised, binding the loose ends. With the weapon in hand, he lifted it high into the sky, twirling it to shake off the bloodstains.
"I like how this feels," he remarked with a nod before hopping back toward the dying man. "What was this called again? I mean, I like the way it feels. Could you tell me its name? It's quite impressive."
The Woodcarver stood in awe. Before him, a man who had almost beaten the life out of him stood asking about the name of the weapon he had taken, his demeanor nonchalant as if inquiring about the origin of a simple toy from a friend.
'This some bullsh*t' The Woodcarver preached.
Crim smiled and tilted his head, the woodcarver caved in, unable to curse the man who didn't even use his sword to beat him. Was he really this weak?
"Find it yourself," he snarked.
Pissed off Crim finished him off, stabbing him with the blade. Patting his tattered pants he got up back to the shrine with the faces that had started to melt into the pedestal, ignoring the phenemon he entered the Shrine.
Crim's heart raced with excitement as he crossed the shrine's threshold, excited to get out of here and get revenge. The world around him seemed to shed its color, much like a snake shedding its skin, leaving a monochromatic void. This peculiar void bore an eerie resemblance to the skill the madman had employed before plunging him into a deep slumber. With every step he took deeper into the shrine, the ambient sounds faded, eventually vanishing entirely, leaving him in an unsettling silence.