The world twisted and warped around Zellrid, Aerovind, and Ordeon as they stepped through the shimmering portal. Colors bled together, reality bent, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, they existed everywhere and nowhere at once.
Then, with a sickening lurch, they slammed into solid ground.
Zellrid's eye snapped open, his body tensed for combat. Beside him, Aerovind retched, while Ordeon's fought to regain his bearings.
"Well," Aerovind gasped between heaves, "that was ...unique."
Zellrid grunted in response, his gaze sweeping across their new surroundings. They stood on a beach of black sand, each grain glittering like a tiny black diamond. Before them stretched a vast landscape, a patchwork realm where the four seasons collided.
To their far left, a snow-capped mountain pierced the sky, its icy peaks disappearing into low-hanging clouds. To the close right, a lush tropical jungle teemed with vibrant, almost unnaturally colorful life. Ahead, golden wheat fields swayed in an autumn breeze, while behind them, cherry blossoms rained down from trees in full spring bloom.
And at the center of the island, dominating the horizon, a massive volcano belched smoke and fire into the sky.
Ordeon's deep voice rumbled, tinged with awe. "By the shadows, this is new."
Before either of his companions could respond, Zellrid noticed something amiss. His hands flew to his sides, patting down his skin. "Our gear," he growled, a rare note of alarm in his voice.
"It's gone." Aerovind's yellow eyes widened as he realized the truth of Zellrid's words. Their weapons, their potions, their carefully prepared equipment all had vanished. All except... "Strange,"
Aerovind said, surprise flickered across his face as he patted the hilt of his sword, still firmly attached to his hip. "The Muramasa blade is still with me." Zellrid's eye narrowed. "How—"
His question was cut short as a soft chime echoed from their wrists. Zellrid looked down to find a sleek, black device materializing on his arm. It resembled a watch, but no watch he'd ever seen pulsed with such malevolent energy.
As one, the trio raised their arms. The devices sprang to life, projecting a shimmering hologram into the air before them.
A figure cloaked in shadow appeared, its features obscured save for a pair of gleaming, crimson eyes. When it spoke, its voice was a discordant symphony of screams.
"Welcome, champions," the figure intoned, "to the Purging Games."
The hologram flickered, displaying scenes of brutal combat and horrific bodies. The shadowy figure continued, its voice dripping with sadistic glee.
"You stand upon the Crucible of Chaos, where your mettle shall be tested, your souls weighed, and your darkest impulses set free."
The image shifted, showing a map of the island. Sixty pulsing points of light appeared across its surface.
"Scattered across this realm are sixty Fragments of Destiny. Collect them all, and the way home shall be opened. Fail, and this island becomes your eternal hell."
Zellrid's jaw clenched, his eye burning. Aerovind's usual smirk faltered, while Ordeon's massive frame seemed to shrink under the weight of their task.
The figure's crimson eyes narrowed, and its voice took on an even more sinister tone. "But first, you must understand the rules. Pay attention, for ignorance will not save you from the consequences."
What followed was a litany of regulations so brutal, so twisted, that even Zellrid hardened and felt his blood run cold.
Survival through killing. Daily point quotas. Forced aggression. Amplified pain. The prohibition of mercy. With each new rule, the reality of their situation became more horrifyingly clear.
As the hologram faded, the figure's final words echoed in their minds: "Remember: Survival is paramount. Fight, adapt, and remember... Good luck, Players."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, Aerovind cleared his throat.
"Well," he said, his voice strained as he fought to maintain his usual levity, "I don't suppose anyone packed a picnic basket? I'm famished."
Ordeon shot him a withering glare. "This is no time for jests, Aerovind. We're trapped in a death game with no food, no water, and—"
"And no clothes," Zellrid cut in, his gruff voice tinged with irritation. "We need to find shelter and figure out our next move."
As if in response to his words, a low rumble shook the ground. The trio tensed, eyes darting around for the source of the disturbance.
"There!" Ordeon bellowed, pointing towards the wheat field.
A massive shape burst from the golden stalks, sending grain flying in all directions. It was a beast straight out of a nightmare, a chimera of mismatched parts. The body of a lion, the heads of a goat and a dragon, and a serpent for a tail.
"Well," Aerovind quipped, drawing his sword with a flourish, "I suppose that answers the question of monster companions."
Zellrid's eye narrowed. "Aerovind, left flank. Ordeon, with me. Remember the rules, no quick kills."
They moved as one, years of training and shared battles evident in their fluid coordination. Aerovind darted left, his blade a red blur as he slashed at the chimera's flank. The beast roared in pain and fury, its dragon head spewing flame that Aerovind barely dodged.
Zellrid and Ordeon charged straight ahead, ducking under a swipe from massive lion claws. Ordeon, weaponless but far from helpless, landed a devastating punch to the creature's ribs. Bones cracked audibly, and the chimera stumbled.
Seizing the opportunity, Zellrid leapt onto the beast's back. His hands found purchase in matted fur, and he began to climb towards the heads. The serpent tail lashed out, fangs gleaming with venom, but Zellrid twisted away at the last second.
"Anytime now, Z!" Aerovind called out, parrying a bite from the goat's head. "This goat is a carnivore for god's sake"
Zellrid grunted in acknowledgment. With a final heave, he reached the juncture where the three necks met. His hands closed around the dragon head's horns, and he pulled with all his might.
The crack of breaking bone echoed across the field. The chimera let out an ear-splitting shriek of agony, thrashing wildly. Zellrid held on, gritting his teeth against the pain as claws raked across his back.
"Ordeon!" he bellowed. "Finish it!"
The giant warrior nodded grimly. He charged forward, ducking under flailing limbs, and drove his fist into the chimera's chest with bone-crushing force. The beast's eyes bulged, a final wheeze escaping its maw before it collapsed.
Zellrid rolled clear, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood trickled from a dozen wounds, but a fierce satisfaction burned in his eye.
Aerovind sauntered over, wiping his blade clean on a tuft of grass. "Well," he said, his voice light despite the tremor in his hands, "that mother fucker was hard. Even for a god slayer."
Before either of his companions could respond, their wrist devices chimed. A holographic scoreboard appeared, showing their names and a tally of points.
"It seems we've earned our keep for the day," Ordeon said, studying the display. "But tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow, we hunt," Zellrid finished, his voice grim. He cast his gaze across the chaotic landscape, taking in the snow-capped peaks, the steaming jungle, the smoldering volcano. "We find those fragments, and we get the hell out of here."
As night fell, they made camp at the edge of the wheat field, using sheaves of grain to fashion crude bedding and some underwear. The chimera's corpse provided meat, though all three grimaced at the taste.
"You know," Aerovind mused as they huddled around a small fire, "I once attended a banquet where the main course was kraken tentacles in demon blood sauce. I'd give my left arm for a plate right now."
Ordeon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Your stories grow more outlandish by the day, my friend."
"Oh? And what culinary delights did you enjoy in your days as the king's spy, oh large one?" Aerovind shot back.
Ordeon's face darkened. "Nothing I care to remember," he said softly. "Some costs are too high, even for a king's favor."
A heavy silence fell over the group. Zellrid stared into the flames, his mind wandering to Lyra, to Umbra, to all they had left behind.
"We should rest," he said at last, his voice rough with fatigue. "Tomorrow will test us in ways we can't imagine."
As they settled in for the night, Aerovind's voice drifted through the darkness. "Hey, Z? You never did tell me how you got your nickname, ' the hollow slayer'."