I continued to climb, one step after another, leaving behind the darkness and blood.
My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but one thing was clear: I wouldn't stop until I reached my goal.
And nothing would prevent me from succeeding.
The stairs seemed endless, each step another test of my endurance.
My heart pounded in my chest, but my determination was unwavering. Finally, I reached a massive door. I pushed it with force, and it opened with a sinister creak.
Sunlight filtered through the opening, illuminating a fenced courtyard.
I stopped for a moment, blinded by the light after so much darkness.
But I didn't have time to adjust: a figure stood before me, their face covered by a helmet.
It was one of the examiner's men.
Before I could react, two more men appeared at his sides.
They were armed and ready to stop me. My heart sank. The way out was blocked, and I had no choice but to face them.
The first attack was quick and deadly.
I managed to parry the blow with my dagger, but the impact made me stagger back.
The other two men advanced, and I realized I couldn't take them all on at once.
I had to find a way to survive.
I launched a desperate attack, striking one of the men on the arm.
He screamed in pain, dropping his sword. But the other two didn't stop.
One of them struck me on the side, causing me to lose my balance.
I managed to recover just in time to avoid another lethal blow, but I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.
A thought crossed my mind: I had to go back.
I had no other choice. I turned and ran toward the stairs, the three men close behind.
I could hear their labored breathing behind me, but I didn't stop.
I had to find another way out, or it would be the end.
I reached the dark passage again and slipped inside, heart pounding.
My pursuers were still close, but the narrow corridor played to my advantage.
I kept running, ignoring the searing pain in my side. Each step was a struggle against despair and fatigue, but I couldn't afford to give up.
Finally, I reached a fork.
I chose the left path, hoping it would lead me away from my pursuers. The corridor widened, revealing a series of rooms.
I slipped into the first open door I found and hid in the shadows.
I held my breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
I heard the footsteps of my pursuers approaching, then passing by.
I waited a few moments longer, then cautiously stepped out of my hiding place.
I had to find a different way out, a way to escape this nightmare. Darkness enveloped me again, but my determination didn't waver.
I wouldn't stop until I found my freedom. And nothing, not even the deepest darkness, would prevent me from succeeding.
I continued to explore the labyrinth of corridors, my heart heavy with hope and despair.
Every corner could hide a danger, but I had no choice.
I had to keep going, I had to find a way to get out alive.
Finally, I found a door that looked promising.
I opened it cautiously and found myself in a familiar room.
It was the torture chamber.
A wave of despair washed over me, and the weight of the situation hit me even harder.
I approached the torture devices and chains hanging on the walls.
Every detail of that room seemed to confirm that there would be no way out.
But I refused to give up.
I had to keep looking.
I began to search every corner of the room, hoping to find a clue, a secret passage, something that would help me escape this nightmare.
Minutes passed, and the anxiety grew more intense.
Every stone I lifted, every device I examined, revealed nothing useful.
Finally, frustrated, I sat on one of the cold metal beds.
The thought that everything I had faced was in vain hit me with unexpected realization.
Then, a memory crossed my mind: the prisoner's words.
"Look behind the executioner's armor," he had said.
Maybe that was the key to my salvation. I stood up abruptly and ran to the corner of the room where an ancient, rusted armor was hanging.
With trembling hands, I began to examine the armor.
It was heavy and cumbersome, but I found nothing strange.
I tried dismantling it piece by piece, but there was no result.
Finally, I realized that the information I had been given was false. The prisoner had lied to me, making me waste precious time and putting me in a difficult situation.
Anger welled up inside me, mixed with a sense of betrayal and despair.
I felt deceived, manipulated by someone who only wanted to save themselves at my expense. I had believed his words, hoping they would lead me to freedom.
And now I was trapped, in a room that reminded me only of suffering and deceit.
Finally, though, I came to a realization:
"I had been too naive. I hadn't even considered for a second that the true goal of this trial might be to test my loyalty."
I stopped to reflect on everything that had happened.
Every step, every decision, every word of the prisoner echoed in my mind.
Was it possible that all of this had been orchestrated not only to test my ability to extract the truth but also my loyalty and discernment?
Perhaps the examiner wanted to see if I would succumb to despair or blindly believe a desperate and manipulative man.
The torture chamber, with its menacing devices and rusted chains, seemed almost a symbol of my current situation: trapped, tormented, deceived.
I realized I had to stay clear-headed, remain calm, and analyze every detail carefully.
I approached the devices again, but this time with a new perspective.
Every detail could be a clue, every device a metaphor. I began to question the truth behind the events that had just transpired.