As he ascended to the fourth floor of the temple, the man found himself in a silent hallway, flanked by open doors leading to other rooms. He felt an eerie calm in the air, sensing no immediate threat. Carefully, he began to explore the first entrance, the flickering shadows from the torches on the walls casting long, dancing silhouettes.
In the center of the room, a flaming sword was embedded in a stone, its flames casting a warm, hypnotic glow. The man approached the sword and sat down in front of it, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The light within him spoke softly, "You've reached a silent place, the first entrance of the fourth floor. You can rest for now."
Sitting there, the man was reminded of Edmund and the camp of the flaming sword, recalling the small, peaceful camp in the forest where they had once found respite. As he rested, he asked the light, "I wonder how Edmund is now."
"I have no answer for that. I don't know," the light replied, its tone solemn.
The man sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his blood-soaked armor. Every nail in his body continued to bleed, and the iron mask pressed painfully against his face. "I'm hungry and thirsty," he murmured. "Since I emerged from that death, I've been hungry and thirsty. Now, it's worse."
The light within him began to glow, radiating from the chest plate of his armor. As the glow intensified, the man felt an unexpected sensation of fullness and his thirst dissipated. "What just happened?" he asked, bewildered.
"I have made you full and not thirsty," the light answered simply.
Grateful, the man stood up, his hand gripping his sword of thorns. Despite feeling satiated, the pain from the nails and the iron mask persisted, a constant reminder of his suffering.
He continued to explore the first entrance, his steps echoing softly in the silent halls. Eventually, he came across a set of double doors. Pushing them open, he found himself on a bridge that connected to a second entrance. The bridge seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness, but the second entrance was clearly visible at the far end.
"There it is!" he exclaimed, rushing toward the second entrance. However, his progress was suddenly halted as hollow skeletons, fifteen in total, emerged from the shadows, wielding menacing scythes. Their empty eye sockets seemed to fix on him, and a cold, malevolent presence filled the air.
Before he could react, a giant woman appeared beneath the bridge. She was a grotesque and horrifying sight, her skin a sickly pale green, covered in oozing sores. Her eyes were sunken and hollow, her mouth filled with jagged, broken teeth. Long, matted hair hung in filthy strands around her face, and her limbs were twisted and malformed.
The man steeled himself for battle, gripping his sword tightly. The light within him flared, casting an eerie blue glow over the scene. The skeletons advanced, their scythes swinging in deadly arcs.
With a swift motion, the man deflected the first scythe, the blade glancing off his armor. He countered with a powerful slash, cleaving the skeleton in two. Bones clattered to the ground as he moved to the next enemy, his sword a blur of motion. The light within him seemed to guide his strikes, each one precise and deadly.
As he fought, the giant woman beneath the bridge let out a bone-chilling scream, shaking the very foundation of the structure. She began to claw her way up, her long, twisted fingers reaching for the man. He glanced down, his heart pounding at the sight of her grotesque form climbing steadily toward him.
The skeletons pressed their attack, and the man spun to face them. He struck down another skeleton, its bones shattering under the force of his blow. One by one, they fell, but their numbers seemed endless. He fought with a fierce determination, his movements a blend of grace and brutality.
Suddenly, the giant woman reached the bridge, her massive form towering over him. She swung a gnarled fist, aiming to crush him. The man barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side as her fist slammed into the stone, cracking it. He sprang to his feet, slashing at her hand with his sword. The blade bit deep into her flesh, and she let out a howl of pain, recoiling.
Blood, thick and black, oozed from the wound. The man pressed his advantage, hacking at her arm with all his might. Each strike sent shockwaves of pain through her body, but she was relentless. With a roar, she swung her other hand, catching the man off guard. He was thrown across the bridge, slamming into the wall with a bone-jarring impact.
Dazed, he struggled to his feet, his vision swimming. The skeletons closed in, their scythes raised for the killing blow. Summoning his remaining strength, the man unleashed a flurry of attacks, cutting down the nearest skeletons. He fought with a desperate fury, refusing to let them overwhelm him.
The giant woman lunged again, her claws scraping the stone as she tried to grab him. The man ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding her grasp. He slashed at her legs, his sword slicing through sinew and bone. She screamed, staggering back, but she did not fall.
With a final, desperate effort, the man drove his sword into her chest. The blade pierced her heart, and she let out a bloodcurdling wail. Her massive body convulsed, then crumbled to the ground, lifeless.
Panting heavily, the man pulled his sword free and turned to face the remaining skeletons. They hesitated, their bony hands trembling. Sensing their fear, he pressed the attack, cutting them down one by one. Bones clattered to the ground, and soon, the bridge was littered with the remains of his foes.
The battle finally over, the man stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood dripped from his sword, pooling around his feet. He took a moment to catch his breath, then continued toward the second entrance.
As he crossed the bridge, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. The light within him spoke softly, "You have done well. Rest now, for there are more challenges ahead."
The man nodded, grateful for the brief respite. He reached the second entrance and pushed open the doors, stepping into the unknown. The darkness closed in around him, but he stood tall, ready to face whatever horrors awaited him on the next floor.
His journey was far from over, but he knew he had the strength to see it through. With a final, determined glance back at the fallen enemies, he pressed onward, his sword glowing with a fierce blue flame. The silent hallways awaited, filled with untold dangers and unimaginable horrors. But he was ready, his resolve unbroken.
– – –
Proceeding to go inside the second entrance, he saw it was silent again, but there was no flaming sword now. The man then felt a foreboding presence; devils lurked in the next room. The light within him sensed the danger and ignited his sword in a vibrant blue flame. He pressed forward, stepping cautiously into the next chamber.
There, he saw the devils. They flew, crawled, and walked, grotesque beings with leathery wings, sinewy limbs, and eyes burning with malice. The man had no choice but to fight his way through, for in the distance, he could see the third entrance. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on his sword and stepped into the room.
The devils ceased their horrid activities of grinding human flesh and tormenting the damned, turning their malevolent gazes towards him. "I just want to reach the ninth floor," the man said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. The devils roared in defiance, abandoning their tasks to rush at him.
The first devil lunged, its claws outstretched. The man sidestepped and slashed with his sword, the blue flame searing through the creature's flesh. It shrieked in agony, black blood spraying as it fell. Another devil, this one crawling on all fours with a maw full of jagged teeth, pounced. The man brought his sword down in a brutal arc, splitting the devil's skull.
Flying devils swooped down from above, their wings creating gusts of wind that threatened to throw him off balance. He dodged and weaved, his sword a blur as he struck at them. One devil managed to rake its claws across his back, but he twisted around, driving his sword through its heart. It fell to the ground with a final, gurgling scream.
A particularly large devil, towering over the rest with horns spiraling from its head, stepped forward. It wielded a massive club, swinging it with terrifying force. The man ducked just in time, the club smashing into the stone floor, sending shards flying. He rolled to the side and sprang up, slashing at the devil's leg. The blade cut deep, and the devil roared in pain, staggering.
Taking advantage of the opening, the man leaped and drove his sword into the devil's chest. The blue flames engulfed the creature, burning it from the inside out. It collapsed in a heap, its body disintegrating into ash.
But the battle was far from over. More devils poured into the room, a seemingly endless horde. The man fought with every ounce of strength, each swing of his sword more desperate than the last. He decapitated one devil, its head rolling away as its body crumpled. Another he split in half with a powerful overhead strike.
He was relentless, his movements fueled by adrenaline and sheer willpower. A flying devil slashed at his face, but he parried and countered, severing its wings. It crashed to the ground, where he finished it with a swift thrust to the throat.
Despite his skill, the devils continued to come. He was growing tired, his breaths ragged, and his muscles aching. The light within him flared brighter, giving him a second wind. He summoned all his strength and launched into a flurry of attacks, cutting down devil after devil.
Blood and gore splattered across the floor, the air filled with the stench of death and the cries of the fallen. The man fought on, determined to reach the halfway point of the second entrance. He kicked a devil into a wall, its bones shattering on impact, and spun around to decapitate another that had leapt at him.
Finally, the tide began to turn. The remaining devils hesitated, their ranks thinned. Sensing their fear, the man pressed the attack, driving them back. He dispatched the last few with swift, brutal efficiency, his sword leaving a trail of blue flames in its wake.
Panting heavily, he surveyed the carnage. The room was littered with the bodies of the slain devils, the floor slick with their blood. He wiped his brow and sheathed his sword, the blue flames extinguishing.
The light within him spoke softly, "You have done well. Rest now, for there are more challenges ahead."
The man nodded, grateful for the brief respite. He reached the halfway point of the second entrance and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He knew this was only a temporary reprieve. The path ahead would be filled with even greater dangers, but he was ready to face them.
As he rested, he thought of the dark heavenly castle, the Great Divine Lifter, and the archbishop. These thoughts fueled his resolve. He would endure whatever trials lay ahead, for he was determined to reach the ninth floor and beyond.
After a few moments, he stood tall once more, his strength renewed. He tightened his grip on his sword and stepped forward, ready to continue his journey through the temple. The silence of the hallway enveloped him as he moved deeper into the darkness, ever closer to his ultimate goal.