The ancient stone doors of the Lost Vault loomed over Duran and his men, their once-pristine carvings now worn and cracked with age. The relic they sought, the Heart of Oryn, lay somewhere inside, its power rumored to unlock hero units—legendary warriors with abilities that could change the fate of Kayl's kingdom. But Duran knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger. This wasn't just a simple mission; it was a gamble with lives at stake.
Behind him stood the summoned soldiers—10 Swordsmen, 10 Spearmen, and 5 Archers. Though they had only been with him for a few weeks, Duran had quickly learned to trust in their skills. They may have been called forth from the system, but their discipline, strength, and loyalty were real. They followed his orders without question, and now they stood ready to face whatever dangers lay in the depths of the Vault.
Still, there was something unsettling about leading these summoned men into the unknown. They were here because Kayl had summoned them through the system, but they had been called into a dangerous world. Duran couldn't shake the responsibility he felt for their well-being, even if they weren't real in the traditional sense.
"We stay sharp," Duran said as he stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "This place has been sealed for centuries. There's a reason for that."
The men nodded silently, their weapons drawn. They were prepared, but Duran could feel the tension in the air as the ground beneath them trembled and the massive stone doors slowly ground open, revealing a dark, ancient corridor leading deep into the earth.
Into the Vault
The air inside the Vault was thick with dust and the smell of decay. Their torches flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the stone walls as they descended deeper into the ancient structure. Duran led the way, his senses sharp, every step echoing in the silence.
"Watch for traps," Duran warned. "These ruins were built to keep something inside. We're not the first to come looking for what's hidden here."
They hadn't traveled far before the corridor opened into a large, circular chamber. In the center of the room, three massive stone statues stood on a raised platform, each one holding a different weapon—a sword, a spear, and a bow. Their eyes, though lifeless, seemed to watch the intruders with a quiet menace.
"What do you think?" one of the Swordsmen asked, his voice tight with unease.
"A test," Duran muttered, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Those aren't just statues."
Before anyone could react, the ground trembled beneath them. The eyes of the statues flared to life, glowing with a cold, eerie blue light. The stone figures began to move, their massive limbs grinding as they stepped down from their pedestals, weapons raised.
"Here they come!" Duran shouted, drawing his sword. "Form up! Defend yourselves!"
The Stone Guardians Strike
The first guardian, wielding a massive stone sword, charged forward with surprising speed, its blade crashing down toward the Spearmen at the front. The men barely managed to dodge the blow, but one wasn't fast enough. The sword connected with his shield, shattering it instantly and sending the Spearman flying back, his body crumpling against the stone wall.
"Regroup!" Duran barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The second guardian, armed with a spear, thrust forward, its weapon piercing another Spearman through the chest, lifting him off the ground before tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The summoned soldier vanished as his form dissipated into the air, leaving only the cold reality of their loss.
Duran cursed under his breath. These stone guardians were far stronger than they had anticipated. "Focus fire on the one with the spear!" he ordered. "Archers, aim for the joints!"
The Archers released a volley of arrows, their shots striking the guardians' joints and eyes, but the stone creatures hardly faltered. The Swordsmen and Spearmen moved in closer, trying to find weak points in the massive bodies, but each strike seemed to barely chip away at the stone.
Another Swordsman cried out as the bow-wielding guardian fired an arrow the size of a spear, impaling him where he stood. The soldier collapsed, his body disintegrating just like the others.
Duran gritted his teeth, dodging a swing from the sword-wielding guardian. The losses were piling up, and fast. Three soldiers already down, and they hadn't even made a dent in the guardians.
"Kellan!" Duran shouted, catching the eye of his most reliable Swordsman. "We need to bring these things down—target the joints!"
Kellan nodded, rallying the remaining soldiers. They shifted their focus, aiming for the weakest points on the stone bodies, but the guardians were relentless. The sword-wielding figure swung again, and two more soldiers fell under its massive blade, their forms disappearing as they hit the ground.
A Desperate Battle
By now, the group was down to just over half its strength. The Spearmen had been decimated, and the Swordsmen were barely holding the line. Duran knew they couldn't keep fighting like this—the guardians were too strong, and each hit from the stone giants was lethal.
He dodged another blow, rolling to the side as the sword-wielding guardian swung its massive weapon. His sword found purchase in the guardian's knee joint, chipping away at the stone until the leg buckled, sending the giant crashing to the ground.
"Now! While it's down!" Duran shouted, his heart pounding.
The remaining soldiers swarmed the fallen guardian, hacking away at the stone until it finally stopped moving, its glowing eyes dimming. But even as it fell, another guardian—this one with the bow—fired a massive arrow straight into an Archer, killing him instantly.
Six soldiers down. The weight of the losses pressed heavily on Duran's chest. These were summoned troops, yes, but their lives had meaning. Their deaths here were real, and each man who fell felt like a personal failure.
The surviving soldiers pressed on, coordinating their strikes as they finally managed to take down the second guardian. The last of the stone giants—armed with a spear—fell moments later, collapsing into a heap of rubble under the combined efforts of Duran and his men.
The Aftermath
The silence that followed the battle was deafening.
Duran stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily as he surveyed the damage. Six soldiers were dead, their bodies no longer scattered across the floor but vanished, leaving only their lost presence. The remaining men were battered and exhausted, their expressions grim.
Kellan approached, wiping blood from his face. "We've lost too many. This place… it's worse than we expected."
Duran nodded, his jaw tight. "We knew the risks coming in, but these losses… it's heavier than I thought."
Kellan didn't say anything more. There wasn't much to say. The mission had to continue, but the weight of those losses would stay with them. Duran had seen death before, but there was something about losing men under his command—even if they were summoned—that weighed on him in ways he hadn't expected.
He took a deep breath and stepped toward the center of the room, where a stone tablet lay revealed in the aftermath of the battle. The carvings on it were intricate, depicting the layout of the Vault and the path forward.
"The Heart of Oryn is further inside," Duran said, tracing the lines of the map. "We're close, but this is only the beginning."
The remaining soldiers gathered their weapons, their expressions hard. There was no turning back now. Whatever awaited them deeper in the Vault, they would face it—together.
"Let's move," Duran said, his voice firm despite the weight of the losses. "We finish this."