The applause was muted — respectful, but cold. The masked audience above watched without a shred of warmth, like they were observing a promising beast rather than a person. The defeated warrior was dragged away without ceremony, leaving a trail of blood on the stone.
I didn't watch him go. My eyes were on the woman in red.
She descended the steps into the arena with a slow, measured grace. I felt the weight of her gaze even through her mask. "You fight well," she said, her voice soft but carrying through the chamber. "But skill alone won't see you through the Serpent's trials."
"Then what will?" I asked.
She tilted her head. "We'll see."
The chamber's walls shifted then — a low, grinding sound of stone on stone. Doors I hadn't noticed before slid open, revealing a passage bathed in dim, flickering light. "The next trial awaits. If you're ready."
Yoon-Hee touched my arm. "This feels wrong," she whispered. "We should leave."
"We can't." My voice was low, but firm. "We came for answers. And I'm not leaving without them."
The woman in red gestured toward the passage. "Proceed, if you dare."
We walked forward.
The corridor twisted and turned, the air growing colder and heavier with every step. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the walls — serpentine shapes that seemed to slither when I wasn't looking directly at them. Yoon-Hee stayed close, her hand on the dagger at her waist.
"What kind of sect does this?" she muttered.
"The dangerous kind," I said.
We reached another chamber — smaller, this time, and filled with mist that clung to the ground like a living thing. In the center stood three figures. Their faces were obscured by ornate masks shaped like serpents, and their bodies radiated an oppressive aura of martial power.
"Your next trial," the woman's voice echoed behind us. "Survive."
The three figures moved as one.
The first came at me fast — a blur of motion, twin daggers flashing. I barely dodged the first strike, feeling the wind of the blade pass my cheek. The second dagger slashed toward my throat. I twisted, deflecting it with my sword, and countered with a quick, precise strike.
The dagger wielder vanished.
A flicker of movement behind me — too late. A kick slammed into my back, sending me skidding across the stone floor. I rolled to my feet just as the second attacker came at me — a staff whirling through the air with crushing force.
Yoon-Hee's cry split the air as she engaged the third attacker, her dagger flashing.
I had no time to check on her. The staff wielder pressed forward, relentless and precise. Every strike was meant to cripple or kill. I blocked, dodged, and parried, but the blows kept coming, faster and heavier.
Then the dagger wielder reappeared — a flicker of shadow on my left.
I moved on instinct. My sword lashed out in a tight arc, and I felt the blade bite into flesh. A cry — short and sharp — and the dagger wielder fell back, clutching their arm.
But I had no time to press the advantage. The staff cracked against my ribs, and pain exploded through my side.
I staggered.
Another strike came — aimed at my head. I ducked, felt the rush of air, and surged forward. My shoulder slammed into the staff wielder's chest, and we hit the ground hard.
I didn't give them a chance to recover. My sword flashed — a clean, decisive strike — and the staff went still.
Yoon-Hee shouted. I turned just in time to see her opponent go down, her dagger buried deep in their chest.
Only one left.
The dagger wielder watched us, their breathing ragged. Blood dripped from their wounded arm. But they didn't flee.
They attacked.
It was desperation — fast, wild, and unpredictable. But desperation makes mistakes.
I stepped into their strike, caught their wrist, and twisted. The dagger clattered to the ground. My sword's edge kissed their throat.
"Yield," I said.
The chamber fell silent.
And then the woman in red's soft applause echoed through the mist.
"Well done," she said, stepping forward. "You survive… for now."
But I could feel it — the trials weren't over. Not yet. And the worst was still to come.