The stench seared my nostrils. Decay snaked in and wrapped around my senses. A corrosive miasma embraced my skin and wormed its way into my lungs. The sewers beneath Duke Stormwraith's mansion were vile and mocked my imagination. My guts twisted with every breath I inhaled. Each step felt like trudging through sickness. Cold water pooled around my boots, chilling me down the blood in my veins as I waded to our destination.
Ahead of me, Nycro and Marshall moved with ease I could only envy, as if it were a familiar stroll through our own base. Nycro's calculating gaze flicked through the shadows. Marshall's hulking frame loomed beside him. An unreadable face subdued his boisterousness.
"What's the matter?" Marshall's voice drifted back to me, low and laced with a smirk. "Don't like getting your boots a little wet, eh?"
I forced a grin. "Just saving my strength, you know. Can't afford to waste energy down here."
The words felt flimsy, even to my own ears. The air thickened with the weight of something unseen. Shadows didn't fill the tunnel, but they seeped into my thoughts. They brought with them threads of doubt and fears I'd buried long ago. But I shoved them down and clung to the certainty that we were here together. No matter what, I could trust the two beside me.
Yet that solid trust felt thin and fragile as the sewers twisted and turned, pulling us deeper into the mansion's endless bowels. Nycro moved with quiet precision, his footfalls barely a whisper over the waterlogged stone while Marshall's silhouette hovered like a protective shadow. I didn't realize how far we'd gone until the oppressive darkness swallowed the faint radiance. The juxtaposition riddled my perception.
Luminio could be truly deceiving, I told myself.
A sudden, piercing scratch towed me away from my thoughts. It was faint but unmistakable. A rasping, sinister noise echoed from ahead. My pulse quickened, and I shot a glance at Marshall, but his face was still, his hazel eyes fixed forward. Just as I began to wonder if I'd imagined it, the walls around us shuddered. Something massive surged from a crevice, emerging from the shadows with a hissing screech.
A scorpion, scraping the vaulting roof, loomed before us. Its pincers snapped like guillotine, and the armored body glistened with a sable sheen. I swallowed an anxious gulp, fingers itching for my guitar. However, Marshall's voice cut through my instinct.
"Hold it," he murmured, his tone hardened, stripped of its usual warmth.
In one swift movement, Marshall lunged forward. His giant axe flashed as it dug deep into the scorpion's exoskeleton. Nycro moved like a shadow beside him. His blade located the creature's weak spots with ruthless precision. A slimy fluid splattered, dark and thick, mingling with the stagnant sewer water in a nauseating swirl. The scorpion collapsed. Its limbs jerked in spasms as Nycro drove his dagger deeper, ending the struggle with one brutal twist.
I drew my guitar, the familiar weight steadying me, and took a step forward. But Marshall's glare halted me mid-stride.
"Save it, Russell," he snapped, a hint of annoyance in his expression. "This one's just an appetizer."
Before I could respond, another scorpion slithered from the indecisive darkness. Venom oozed from its stinger. It locked onto me before it lunged. I dodged, feeling the rough scrape of its pincers lined with serrated edges like curved knives. It skimmed my shoulder, knocking me off balance. Nycro moved to my side, his blade a glint of silver in the dimness as he leapt onto its head and penetrated it with a series of fatal strikes.
I took a moment to catch my breath, but there was no sense of relief in this hustle. Instead, a strange unease gnawed at me as I watched Nycro and Marshall dismantle the flood of arachnids that followed with a lethal efficiency.
We moved forward, deeper into the winding sewers, every turn bringing with it a thicker darkness, a stifling weight that settled in my ribs like a vice. Roots jutted from the walls, tangling around our feet, while debris cluttered the path, forcing us to move with greater caution. Every so often, Nycro would consult a small, glowing map that flickered in his hand, its surface shifting with each movement of his finger, revealing paths and passages I couldn't see.
"How do you know this map's any good?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Nycro didn't look up. "It's enchanted," he replied, his tone cold and dismissive. "Trust it, or turn back. Your choice."
I bit back a retort, suppressing the frustration that simmered in my throat. We kept moving, and I forced myself to trust Nycro's guidance.
Finally, after what felt like hours, we reached a narrow staircase, its stones slick with moss and grime. Marshall moved ahead, testing each step before signaling for us to follow. The stairs groaned under our weight, but they held it. In a few seconds, we found ourselves in a narrow corridor, the stench replaced by the cold, musty air of the mansion's cellar.
Nycro led us to a concealed doorway, nearly invisible beneath layers of dust and shadow. With a curt nod, he gestured for us to enter. I stepped through, and immediately, a chill crawled down my spine.
The room was a nightmare.
Glass containers lined the walls, filled with murky green liquid that sloshed and bubbled as we entered. Cages held twisted, skeletal forms, their hollow eye sockets fixed in expressions of eternal agony. Strange machines and dark vials littered the tables, alongside instruments that looked more suited to torture than science. And standing at the room's center was an ominous figure. His gaze swept over us, lingering on me with a twisted smile that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Ah," he purred, his voice soft, almost mocking. "I was wondering when I'd get a chance to meet you."
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to keep steady as I seethed. I glanced at Nycro and Marshall, expecting them to move forward and confront Sion. But they remained still, their expressions barren, as if this moment meant nothing to them.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice barely concealing the anger quivering beneath. "Where are the captives?"
Without a word, Sion's smile widened, and he looked at my comrades. His eyes glinted with a sly glimmer. Without a word, he approached the table beside him and pulled a heavy, jingling bag. He tossed it to Nycro, who caught it midair and nodded.
Realization hit me like a blow to the abdomen.
"Nycro?" My voice wavered, disbelief tightening around my throat as I looked at him. I searched for a sign of explanation, of reason. But Nycro's gaze was empty, a hollow stare that pierced my belief.
"Trust," he murmured with pleasure, almost to himself. "A fool's virtue."
The words sliced through the air, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. Desperation overwhelmed me as I reached for my guitar. My fingers trembled as I tried to summon its power, to unleash the sound that might be the only solution. I struck the strings. However, the air remained silent, as if my finger slipped over the cords and offered nothing in return.
"That won't work here." Sion said. "This lab nullifies the Resonance of Death."
"What the -!"
Before I could react, Nycro moved. In an instant, he slid beside me, his hand striking a nerve in my shoulder with a rapid chop. Pain shot through my arm, leaving it limp and useless as I stumbled back. The guitar slipped from my grasp, clattering on the floor.
I turned to Marshall, searching his face for the friend I thought I knew. But his eyes were cold and distant, as if he were looking through me rather than at me. A faint smirk played at his lips, void of his usual warmth, and he let out a low, mocking chuckle before turning away.
"Nycro!" I gasped, struggling to breathe, the betrayal clawing at my insides. "Why you son of a--!"
Nycro leaned in close, his voice a venomous hiss that shredded through me, sharper than his dagger. "Because you believed in us."
The words shattered whatever illusion I had latched my faith onto. Nycro and Marshall turned their backs on me, their footsteps fading into the shadows as they left me alone and helpless. I tried to force my limbs to respond, to chase after them and make sense of another callous trial. But my body refused, my strength depleting with each passing second.
Sion's gaze fixed on me, his smile widening into a vile sickle as he approached. A sick pleasure twirled in his eyes. "Don't worry," he whispered, his voice soft, tender yet cruel. "I have plans for you. You'll be... quite useful."
The doors behind slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the suffocating stillness. The sound lingered, pressing against me as Sion loomed closer. His twisted smile was the last thing I saw through the narrow slit of my eyelids.