The oppressive weight of the Lost Vault bore down on Duran and his remaining soldiers as they descended deeper into the ancient ruin. The air grew colder and heavier with each step, the walls narrowing as the flickering torchlight cast twisted shadows across the stone. The hum of magic that had been ever-present since they entered the Vault pulsed stronger now, vibrating through the stone walls as if the very earth was alive with it.
They were down to less than half their original number. The battle with the stone guardians had claimed the lives of six of their men, and the remaining soldiers were visibly shaken. Even the summoned soldiers, loyal and unwavering in their obedience, could not hide the strain of the battle from their faces.
Duran's own heart weighed heavy with the knowledge that more lives might be lost before they reached the Heart of Oryn—if they even survived to find it.
Kellan, his most trusted Swordsman, walked alongside him, his eyes scanning every corner of the corridor. "This place is worse than I thought. What do you think's next?"
Duran didn't answer immediately. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as they passed another section of wall carved with worn, cryptic runes. The deeper they went, the more the Vault seemed to resist their presence.
"There's always more," Duran finally muttered. "This place wasn't built to welcome us."
A New Threat Emerges
As they continued down the narrow corridor, the ground suddenly shifted beneath them. A low rumble echoed through the Vault, and the walls trembled. The air seemed to thicken, becoming harder to breathe, and then, as if in response to their presence, the floor beneath their feet cracked open.
"Move! Get back!" Duran shouted, but it was too late.
The ground split beneath two of the Spearmen, and with a cry, they plunged into the dark chasm below, vanishing in an instant. The remaining soldiers scrambled for stable ground as jagged stone pillars erupted from the floor, cutting off their path and separating the group into smaller clusters.
"Damn it!" Kellan cursed as he narrowly avoided being skewered by one of the pillars. "It's a trap!"
Duran clenched his teeth, frustration rising in his chest. The Vault was fighting them at every step. He could see the divide between his soldiers, the jagged stone walls too high and unstable to climb.
"We need to regroup," Duran said, scanning the area for a way forward.
But before he could make a move, a new sound reached his ears—a low, guttural growl that echoed through the chamber.
Out of the shadows, from cracks in the walls, creatures emerged. They were twisted, malformed things, their bodies hunched and skeletal, with claws that scraped across the stone floor as they skittered toward the soldiers. Their eyes glowed with the same unnatural light that had filled the stone guardians.
"They're coming!" one of the Archers shouted, raising his bow.
"Hold the line!" Duran ordered, his voice commanding. "We can't let them surround us!"
The Battle in the Vault
The creatures attacked with terrifying speed, their claws flashing in the dim light. Duran swung his sword, cleaving through the first that lunged at him, but more were already rushing forward, relentless in their assault. The remaining Swordsmen formed a defensive line, while the Archers fired rapidly into the horde.
"Watch your flanks!" Kellan shouted as he parried a blow from one of the creatures, barely managing to push it back.
Duran fought alongside them, cutting down one creature after another, but they just kept coming. The air was thick with the smell of blood and dust, the sounds of metal clashing with bone and stone filling the chamber. The soldiers fought valiantly, but the creatures were too many, and their numbers dwindled with each passing minute.
Another Spearman fell, a clawed hand tearing through his chest before he disappeared in a flash of light. One of the Archers cried out as a creature knocked him to the ground, ripping into him before he could rise. His form flickered and vanished, leaving only a pile of bloodstained arrows.
Duran barely had time to process the losses before one of the creatures struck him from the side, its claws raking across his armor. The blow sent him crashing into the stone wall, pain flaring in his side as the world spun. His vision blurred, and for a moment, everything went dark.
Injury and Isolation
Duran groaned as he forced himself to stand, his body screaming in pain. His side was torn, blood seeping from a deep gash where the creature had struck him. His vision swam, but he gritted his teeth and focused.
The battle raged on, but it was clear they were losing. More soldiers fell, their numbers dwindling to the point of desperation. Kellan fought like a madman, his sword flashing as he cut through another creature, but even he couldn't hold back the tide for long.
"We need to fall back!" Kellan shouted, his voice strained with effort.
Duran staggered forward, trying to rejoin the group, but the stone pillars that had erupted from the ground blocked his path. The chasm that had opened up during the initial tremor now yawned between him and the others, too wide to cross.
He was separated from his men.
"No," Duran muttered under his breath, panic rising in his chest. "I can't leave them."
But the creatures were relentless, and as Duran tried to find another way around, he felt the ground shift again. The floor beneath him trembled, and before he could react, a section of the chamber collapsed, sending him tumbling into the darkness below.
Trapped
Duran hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. He lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, his body aching from the fall. The sounds of the battle above were distant now, muffled by the stone and earth that separated him from his men.
When he finally managed to stand, he realized with growing horror that he was alone. The chamber he had fallen into was narrow, its walls pressing in on him from all sides. The only light came from the faint glow of the runes etched into the stone, casting eerie shadows across the ground.
He was trapped. And worse—he was cut off from the rest of his team.
"Damn it," Duran cursed, clutching his side as pain flared through his body. He looked up at the ceiling above, but there was no clear way back to the surface. The only way out was forward, deeper into the Vault.
For a moment, Duran considered waiting for the others to find him, but he knew that wasn't an option. The creatures had overwhelmed his men, and he didn't know if any of them had survived. If he stayed here, he would only be waiting to die.
With a deep breath, Duran tightened his grip on his sword and began to move forward. His steps were slow and unsteady, his mind racing as he navigated the narrow passage. The walls seemed to close in around him, the oppressive weight of the Vault pressing down on him from all sides.
He was alone, injured, and lost in the depths of a ruin that seemed determined to kill him.
And the Heart of Oryn still lay somewhere ahead.