Ethan limped through the endless maze of tunnels, his legs screaming with every step. The dim glow of the runes offered just enough light to keep him moving, but it did little to ease the oppressive weight of the dungeon. Each breath felt heavier, each heartbeat slower. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant rumble of the beast that still hunted him.
The wound on his ankle throbbed, and his grip on the straps of his pack tightened. Supplies were dwindling; he had maybe one potion left, and it wouldn't be enough to carry him through another fight. His body felt like a collection of brittle pieces barely held together by sheer will.
His thoughts wandered back to the betrayal. Garret, that smug grin, the way the others had just watched as Ethan was shoved forward. Sacrifice the weak to save the strong—it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen. But this time, it was him.
The dungeon seemed endless. Time had become a blur of walking, stumbling, and occasionally hiding when the beast's distant roars drew near. His throat was dry, his body on the verge of collapse. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going.
The air grew colder as he descended deeper, the runes along the walls flickering as if they, too, were struggling to stay alive. Ethan's vision blurred, his steps unsteady. His mind screamed at him to stop, to rest, but he knew rest here would mean death.
At last, he reached a vast chamber, its walls lined with intricate carvings glowing faintly in deep shades of purple and black. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and atop it, something pulsed faintly like a dying heartbeat.
Ethan staggered forward, drawn to the light. His legs gave out a few steps away, and he collapsed to his knees, the cold stone biting into his skin. The object on the pedestal was a sphere, swirling with dark energy, its surface cracked but still emanating a faint glow.
His breaths came in shallow gasps. The beast's roars echoed somewhere behind him, closer now. Ethan clenched his fists, his vision narrowing. He'd come so far, only to die here, alone and forgotten.
No. He wasn't ready to give up. With the last of his strength, he reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the sphere. The moment they made contact, a surge of energy shot through him, searing and cold. His body convulsed, his mind flooded with a presence—ancient, powerful, and deeply unsettling.
"You seek power?" The voice was not spoken, but it echoed within his mind, deep and resonant. "You cling to life with such desperation. Do you accept the price?"
Ethan's vision darkened further, the chamber around him fading into nothing. He had no strength to speak, no breath to form words, but in his heart, the answer was clear. He refused to die here.
The core pulsed, and for a brief moment, its light flared brilliantly, bathing the chamber in its dark radiance. Ethan's consciousness slipped away, the last thing he heard was the voice's final declaration:
"Then rise, Forgotten One."