The cold stillness of the Common Area was a stark contrast to the nerve-wracking anticipation that gripped everyone inside. Erhling stood by one of the tall, stone pillars, his eyes scanning the room. The medieval ambiance of the place gave an illusion of peace, with its high vaulted ceilings, flickering torches, and long wooden tables. But beneath the surface, the contestants' unease was palpable. The labyrinth's oppressive atmosphere clung to everything like a shadow, reminding them that even in a place meant for respite, they were never truly safe.
Erhling found himself drawn to a girl across the room. She had sharp, determined features, her eyes constantly moving, taking in everything around her. Her movements were deliberate, cautious. She wore a simple brown tunic and leather bracers, her hair cropped short like a fighter prepared for battle. Her name was Kara, and there was something about her that called out to him—not physically, but on a deeper level, one that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
For the first time since the Cull, he felt a pull that wasn't his own. It was Demiurge.
"Hmm....interesting."his voice was low but audible.Though it was in his mind
Erhling blinked, trying to push Demiurge's voice back into the shadows of his mind. But it lingered. Was it Kara's innate strength, or something more cosmic that Demiurge sensed within her? Whatever it was, Erhling couldn't ignore it. In a place where alliances could mean the difference between survival and death, perhaps she was worth keeping an eye on.
The thought lingered as he observed her from a distance. Kara moved with a confidence that contrasted with the nervous fidgeting of the other contestants. She appeared unfazed by the uncertainty, as if she knew more than she let on.
_"You should speak to her,"_ Demiurge's voice insisted.
Erhling clenched his fists, feeling the nebula symbol on his backhand thrum with power. It had appeared shortly after the Cull—a reminder of the Architect's influence, and the power that now coursed through him. But power came with risk. He'd seen it earlier when one of the contestants collapsed, choking on his own inability to handle his sponsor's overwhelming energy. Too much power could break you.
Before he could decide on approaching Kara, the tranquility of the Common Area shattered.
The ground trembled. From above, the distant echo of a bell rang through the stone hallways. The sound was low, but it carried with it an ominous weight, as though it were signaling the arrival of something ancient and deadly.
And then they appeared.
Out of the shadows that flickered in the corners of the room, black, wraith-like figures began to emerge. At first, they were almost indistinguishable from the dim light, their forms shifting and unstable. But as they drew closer, the room grew cold—unnaturally so. The air became thick with dread, and whispers began to fill the silence, chilling words in a language that no one understood.
The creatures' bodies were shrouded in flowing, tattered black robes that swirled as if caught in an invisible wind. Their faces were hollow, empty voids where eyes should have been, but still, they stared with a malevolent intent. Their movements were slow and deliberate, each step a calculated moment of fear. As they moved forward, the very air around them seemed to darken, swallowing the light.
"They're here..." someone whispered in fear.
**Phantoms.**
Erhling had heard of them during his brief time in the labyrinth. They were not living beings, but fragments of lost souls, twisted and bound to the labyrinth's Tower. The Tower itself was an enigmatic structure that dominated the landscape of this floor, an ever-present reminder of the labyrinth's cruelty. Within its walls, the Phantoms thrived, feeding on fear and despair, preying on the weak. It was said that those who died within the labyrinth sometimes didn't truly leave—it simply absorbed them, turning their essence into these spectral creatures.
The first Phantom struck.
Its hand, long and clawed, lashed out at a contestant near the door. The contestant—barely out of his teens—let out a strangled cry as the creature's hand passed through his chest. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony, his body convulsing as if his very soul was being drained.
Chaos erupted.
Contestants scattered in every direction, but the Phantoms were everywhere, emerging from the walls, the floor, even from the shadows cast by the firelight. The Common Area had been breached, turning what was supposed to be a sanctuary into a killing ground.
Erhling's heart raced, but his instincts kicked in. Gripping the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, he drew it in one fluid motion, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. He couldn't sense these creatures with his eyes—they were too elusive, too fast. But he felt them in the air, in the way the energy shifted around them.
Across the room, Kara had her back to the wall, her own blade drawn, eyes scanning for an opening. She wasn't panicking, though. Her movements were calm, deliberate. Demiurge had been right—there was something different about her.
Before Erhling could move toward her, another figure burst into the fray beside him—a tall man with a shock of unruly blond hair and a wild grin. He wore leather armor that was battered and worn, but his posture was relaxed, almost too confident for the situation.
"You'd think they'd let us catch our breath before throwing us into the fire, huh?" the man said with a chuckle as he slashed at a Phantom, his blade passing through its form but having little effect. "I'm Karl, by the way. This your first trial too?"
Erhling gave him a curt nod. "Yeah. Seems like it's going to be a long night."
Karl's grin widened. "Oh, it's gonna be fun."
Before they could exchange more words, the Phantoms surged forward again. One of them reached for Karl, its clawed hand aiming for his chest. Karl sidestepped smoothly, kicking a chair into the creature's path, causing it to falter. He twirled his blade and slashed again, this time aiming for its core—the area just below the hollow void where its face should be. The Phantom let out a high-pitched wail and disintegrated into a cloud of black mist.
"Hit them in the core!" Karl shouted, grinning as if he had just figured out the world's greatest secret.
Erhling followed suit, focusing his energy. His sword gleamed brighter as he channeled the power granted by Architect. With a swift motion, he cleaved through the core of the nearest Phantom, watching it dissipate into the air.
The tide of Phantoms was thinning, but they were still overwhelming in number. Bodies of fallen contestants littered the floor—some slashed by the creatures, others simply drained of life. The air was thick with the scent of death, and the whispers continued, feeding on the despair of those still standing.
In the distance, a bell tolled again.
And just like that, the Phantoms began to retreat. One by one, they faded into the shadows, leaving the survivors to catch their breath and take stock of the carnage.
Erhling lowered his sword, panting. Around him, fewer than twenty contestants remained, most of them wounded or exhausted. Kara was still alive, though she had a cut across her cheek. She wiped the blood away without a word.
Nes, the guide who had introduced herself earlier, appeared from one of the side doors. Her cheerful demeanor was gone, replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.
"This was not supposed to happen," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "The Phantoms weren't meant to attack this soon."
Karl scoffed, sheathing his sword. "You think?"
Erhling looked at Nes, his jaw clenched. "What were those things?"
Nes looked at him, her gaze impassive. "They are the remnants of those who failed the labyrinth. Some are contestants, others... merely souls unlucky enough to be caught in its grip. They exist within the Tower, feeding off the fear and despair of those who enter. Normally, they do not attack in such numbers, but something has disturbed them."
"Something?" Erhling pressed.
Nes smiled, but it was a smile devoid of warmth. "You will find out soon enough. The Tower is not kind, and neither are its inhabitants. Consider this your first trial."
Erhling's fists clenched. He could feel the power from Architect stirring again, the nebula on his hand pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The trial hadn't even officially begun, and they were already facing death.
He glanced at Karl, who gave him a lopsided grin. "Well, looks like we're in this together, huh?"
Erhling nodded, but his thoughts drifted to Kara once more. He could feel Demiurge's interest growing. Something about her potential tugged at him, but for now, the trial—and their survival—came first.
As Nes walked away, the survivors gathered, their eyes filled with grim determination. The first trial had begun, and the labyrinth had already claimed its first victims.