The moment they jumped, everything blurred, and then—nothing. They didn't see the tunnel or the blood-red water, which they saw through the eyes of the infected. It was over before they knew it. Valcroy opened his eyes to see what had happened, and when he did, his eyes widened in disbelief, as if they couldn't open any further. The sight before him was something he neither expected nor wanted to see.
They found themselves standing in the middle of what appeared to be an enormous, ancient ruin, located seemingly in the middle of nowhere. All around them was a rocky landscape dotted with fragments of buildings that must have once encircled this colossal arena.
The structure around them was immense, with crumbling walls and towering arches reaching toward the sky. It seemed to defy the heavens, yet in return, had suffered their wrath, falling into disrepair. This place had clearly once been full of life and significance, but now it was merely a shadow of its former glory.
The ground beneath their feet was uneven, littered with broken stones, mostly remnants of the arena itself. It was barren, devoid of grass or weeds, as though the very earth had refused to spare one bit of vitality for this place. As they surveyed the area, they noticed the circular layout of the ruin, suggesting it had once been a gathering place for large crowds.
Rows of crumbled stone benches, arranged in concentric circles, climbed upward from the arena floor, forming tiered seating. These seats, once filled with spectators, were now cracked and broken, with large gaps where entire sections had collapsed, leaving behind only faint traces of their former purpose.
One side of the arena caught their attention—a raised platform that seemed more important in design compared to others. Upon it were several large, ornate thrones, each carved from an ancient stone different from the rest of the arena structure. Unlike the surrounding ruins, these thrones had weathered against the spell of time. They looked less worn, still giving out an air of authority, as if they had once been set aside for the most important figures of this lost civilization. The platform was elevated high above the arena floor, giving those seated there a commanding view of everything below, emphasizing its importance in the overall design.
What made these thrones even more striking was the way the surrounding stones seemed to cradle them, holding them firmly in place, like they were reluctant to let them go. Despite the decay and collapse that had overtaken much of the structure, the thrones remained unbroken and unyielding, as though the very earth which refuses to give anything to this arena had conspired to protect them from the ravages of time.
On the opposite side of the arena, where the ground was relatively clear, Valcroy and Erik noticed a path leading downward into the darkness below. The entrance to this underground passage was wide and imposing, framed by two massive pillars that had somehow withstood the test of time but not entirely as one can see cracks in them. The path seemed to invite them to a gateway to the hidden secrets lying beneath the surface of the ruin. This positioning of the underground passage allowed those seated on the grand thrones above to inspect and observe anyone emerging from it, which further added to the sense of authority and control revealed by the raised platform.
As Valcroy and Erik took in these details, two things attracted them more than anything. One of them made their gaze instinctively drawn upward. High above the ruined arena hovered a massive, circular ring, suspended impossibly in the air. The ring seemed to be made of a dark, metallic material that shimmered faintly in the crimson light, casting a long shadow over the arena floor. Four slender bridges stretched inward from the ring, meeting at the central platform that hung directly above the heart of the arena.
At the center of this platform rested a towering, inverted obelisk made of something that looked like black obsidian. The obelisk pointed downward, its surface absorbing all the light the world could provide it, creating an aura of foreboding. It was giving off a black mist that felt familiar to both Valcroy and Erik. Its sheer size and presence gave it an almost oppressive feeling, as if it were a sentient being watching over the ruins below.
Directly beneath this hovering platform, trying to intercept the black obelisk, was another obelisk—a stark contrast to the dark structure above. This one was rainbow-colored, its surface alive with shifting hues that danced and shimmered in the crimson light. The colors flowed like liquid, creating a mesmerizing display that stood out against the ancient stone scenery. The obelisk rose upward, reaching toward the descending black obelisk.
The two obelisks met in the middle, about ten meters above the ground, their tips nearly touching, but they didn't. Something was suspended between them that was glowing red. It seemed to have crystallized in an octagonal shape, or perhaps more. They couldn't tell from where they were standing. But the feeling it gave them was familiar, and with a red aura coming out from that crystal, it reminded them of the red aura they saw around each other.
'Perhaps.' Both of them thought of a possibility, but then shook the thought out of their heads.
Valcroy looked around to see where they were. They found themselves in a realm of chilling stillness, where the very air seemed to hum with an ancient and oppressive energy. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark, stormy clouds, with intermittent flashes of lightning casting eerie shadows.
As they looked around, their expressions differed, and Erik heard Valcroy mutter, "It wasn't a dream."
Erik knew what he meant as he glanced at the stormy clouds, through which a crimson light tried to penetrate, but the clouds held firm against it. This was the world Valcroy had found himself in when he had nearly died.
Erik looked at Valcroy and noticed that his appearance was the same as before, not the altered form he had taken when he first appeared in this world.
Although they were awed by the architecture of the colosseum, they didn't have time to admire it. They were standing out in the open, vulnerable to whatever might be lurking nearby. And from Valcroy's telling him about the inhabitants of this world, Erik didn't want to meet them, at least not yet.
"Hey."
The infected appeared before them, and Erik almost attacked until he saw Valcroy grinning and shook his head. How was this guy his squire? Still, they now had someone who could scout ahead, and they needed shelter, fast. The passage before them seemed to be the only option.
The infected walked forward, stopping at the edge of the passage that led underground. Valcroy touched the tall pillars still standing, and as he did, they began glowing, inscriptions appearing on their surface. The infected jumped back, eyes fixed on the glowing pillars, a sword in hand ready to attack, but nothing happened. He waited for a while but other than them it glowing, nothing jumped out. Which made him release a relieved breath.
Valcroy studied the inscriptions, finding them somewhat familiar for some reason, though Erik didn't recognize them. After a moment, the infected descended the stairs, and a whole new world unfolded before him.
The stairs below was made of smooth, dark stone, veined with a sickly green luminescence that pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat.
The underground structure was a blend of ruined magnificence and timeless corrosion, with crumbling walls and arches hinting at its former magnificence. As the infected descended further, he saw the remnants of grand arches and spires reaching for the ceiling, their silhouettes broken and jagged, as they attempted to pierce through it and tried to bask in the crimson light but failed.
The infected saw buildings stretching as far as he could see—an entire city was underneath the arena. These structures were made of the same dark stone and featured similar inscriptions they saw at the pillars, but they were in varying states of disrepair. Some were intact, their arches and columns still standing tall, while others had partially collapsed, their interiors filled with ancient relics and artifacts telling a whole different story. He navigated through the rubble-filled streets, passing many of these buildings.
Eventually, he arrived at what seemed to be the center, where all the streets converged. Scattered across this area were several stone altars on platforms, each bearing strange and magical objects—ancient weapons, glowing crystals, scrolls and many more. These artifacts hummed with their own power, creating an unsettling harmony, but a black mist, similar to the aura of the black obelisk, surrounded each platform.
The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of the infected's footsteps trudging through the rubble. He didn't approach any of the platforms; Erik and Valcroy both knew how effective the black mist was at protecting things.
Huuunnnn*
Erik and Valcroy looked up and saw the creature—the whale that had massacred the Alliance army—hovering above them in the sky. Without hesitation, they dashed into the passage. The familiar feeling from before was still there, but they didn't want to risk it, and greet its belly, even though they had taken the risk of coming here based on that very feeling.
As they passed through the pillars, they hummed with even more vigor, and before they could understand what was happening, their vision blurred once more, once more they were taken to some place else. And when the surrounding cleared a little, they found themselves in yet another unfamiliar location, but this time, they weren't alone.
They were in what looked like a hut, if they could see it from the outside, its location unknown. The windows and doors were shut tight, with the only light coming from a lamp hanging on the wall and a fire burning in the fireplace and smoke going through the chimney. But this was no time to take in the surroundings. They noticed hooded figures sitting around a table, someone standing in front of a bookshelf, another holding a kettle and walking toward the table, and yet another looking out through the closed windows.
Valcroy and Erik drew their weapons, as did the infected who had been teleported alongside them. They stood back to back, watching the hooded figures warily. Despite the drawn weapons, the hooded figures remained completely still, not reacting in the slightest.
Valcroy furrowed his brow in confusion as he observed the unmoving figures. "What's going on here?" he said to Erik, his voice tinged with unease. Erik didn't reply—he didn't know either. Just as they were both trying to figure it out, a voice broke the silence.
"They shall bring thee no harm."
They turned toward the figure sitting by the fireplace—the only person in the room who had moved beside them. The hooded figure motioned for them to come closer. Valcroy and Erik exchanged glances, then cautiously approached, the infected following with its back turned to them.
Valcroy tightened his grip on his weapon as he stood in front of the hooded figure, who was adding wood to the fire and watching it burn.
"Who are you? What is this place? How did we get here? And why are these people..."
"Frozen," Erik added the last part, his eyes on the hooded figure. He looked at their hands, they were covered by gloves, making it impossible to tell anything about them. Everything about the figure was concealed, making it impossible to even determine their gender.
The hooded figure didn't answer their questions. Instead, they simply said, "Pray, take thy seat, ye who art the promised."
Before Valcroy and Erik could refuse, they suddenly found themselves seated across from the hooded figure. The chairs they had been standing near now felt surprisingly comfortable beneath them. Valcroy's eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly tried to stand up, his hand reaching for his weapon again.
The hooded figure raised a gloved hand in a calming gesture. ""Be not afeard, for I bear thee no ill intent. Thou art safe within these bounds, I do assure thee.""
But how could they trust this person? Valcroy glanced at Erik, who also looked taken aback by the sudden change. But Erik didn't get up from the chair, which made Valcroy reluctantly stay seated, though their vigilance didn't waver.
"Who are you?" Valcroy asked again. "And why are we here?"