Smith's eyes widened in horror as he followed the tentacles to their source. A faceless creature loomed behind the attacker, its 13 tentacles writhing like living serpents. The beast's massive frame towered over Smith, its presence seeming to fill the entire chamber.
The creature let out a deafening roar, causing Smith's heart to skip a beat. With a surge of adrenaline, Smith pushed the attacker's lifeless body off him and scrambled to his feet.
The creature lunged at Smith, its tentacles snapping wildly. Smith dodged and weaved, desperate to avoid the beast's deadly grasp. He spotted the golden eye lying peacefully on the ground and made a break for it.
As soon as he picked it up, Smith turned to make his escape. But the creature was too quick. A tentacle slammed into Smith, sending him flying across the chamber. He crashed into the wall with incredible force, the impact sending shockwaves through his body.
"Fuck" he cursed.
For a few disorienting seconds, Smith's senses reeled. His brain struggled to process the chaos that had erupted around him. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. As his vision began to clear, Smith knew he had to move – and fast. The creature was already closing in, its tentacles snapping with deadly precision.
Smith stumbled to his feet, he hastily shoved the golden eye into his bag, its surface now smeared with his blood. The object's colour seemed to shift as if tainted by Smith's life force. With a newfound sense of urgency, Smith staggered forward, desperate to escape the clutches of the monstrous creature.
But the beast was relentless. One of its tentacles grazed Smith's leg, sending him crashing into the wall with incredible force. Smith's body crumpled, his vision blurring as he spat out a mouthful of blood. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes locking onto the creature as it loomed over him, its 13 tentacles poised to deliver the killing blow.
Smith closed his eyes, a wry smile spreading across his blood-stained lips. "So this is it?" he chuckled, his voice dripping with dark humour. "So this is the end of me?"
But fate had other plans. A brilliant golden light erupted from Smith's bag, sending a blast of energy that shattered the creature's tentacles and sent it stumbling backwards. The beast crashed into the statues, toppling them one by one as the chamber began to shudder and tremble.
Seizing the opportunity, Smith struggled to his feet. He knew he had to move fast, but his injured leg throbbed with pain. With a grimace, Smith ripped off his outer jacket and used it to tie a makeshift tourniquet around his leg.
The exit door was a distant speck, but Smith knew he had to reach it. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the agony that was to come. With a burst of adrenaline, Smith started to run, his injured leg screaming in protest with every step.
For a man who had faced death countless times without flinching, Smith felt a creeping sense of fear. He was afraid of dying, afraid of being consumed by the monster that lurked behind him. The thought sent a chill down his spine, but Smith refused to give in. He gritted his teeth and kept running, the door his only hope for survival.
As Smith sprinted towards the door, he could feel the creature's enraged roar echoing through the chamber. He flattened himself, squeezing through the narrowing gap just in time. The door slammed shut behind him, its impact sending Smith tumbling to the ground.
His leg buckled beneath him, weakened by the earlier injury. Smith winced, his mind reeling from the events that had just transpired. But he knew he couldn't afford to dwell on the past – not yet.
With a sense of urgency, Smith rummaged through his bag, his fingers closing around the golden eye. He breathed a sigh of relief as he confirmed the object was still intact.
Next, Smith turned his attention to his own battered body. His inner shirt was stained with blood, so he peeled it off, using it to wipe the blood from his mouth. From his bag, he retrieved a fresh shirt, which he quickly donned.
A towel from his backpack helped to dust off the sand and debris that clung to his skin. Though he looked a little more presentable, the acrid smell of blood still lingered. Smith's solution was to douse himself in perfume, the sweet scent overpowering the stench of blood.
"I'm good to go," Smith muttered to himself, shouldering his bag as he prepared to leave the restricted area.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, a sign that the team had received the evacuation order. As Smith emerged from the restricted area, he collided with Abigail.
"Hey, where have you been?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Her gaze swept over Smith's battered form, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the smell that still clung to him.
"Here and there," Smith replied, attempting to downplay his ordeal.
Abigail's eyes narrowed, her hand instinctively rising to cover her nose. "You're hurt," she observed, her gaze dropping to Smith's injured leg.
As she reached out to examine the wound, Smith jerked his leg back, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I don't think I can handle that expression on your face," he said.
Abigail's frown deepened. "I smell metal," she muttered, turning away. "You need a bath."
Smith fell into step behind her, his injured leg aching with every step. As they made their way back to the surface, Smith was intercepted by the medical team, who quickly loaded him onto a stretcher.
The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the excavation site. The team was busy packing up their gear, preparing to leave the site behind. As Smith was whisked away to the camp doctor, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much larger, more sinister adventure.