The darkness swallowed us whole.
The iron doors slammed shut behind us, the sound like the tolling of a death knell. The air grew colder, heavier — and the silence was absolute. Even our footsteps seemed muffled on the stone floor.
I kept my sword raised, my senses stretched thin. Beside me, Yoon-Hee moved with the quiet grace of a shadow, her injured arm tucked close to her side. Blood still seeped from the gash, but her face remained calm.
"We shouldn't have followed him this far," she whispered.
"We didn't come this far to turn back," I said. "We survive. That's what we do."
A faint sound echoed ahead — a hiss, low and drawn out. The temperature dropped further, and I felt it again: that oppressive weight, that cold killing intent.
Something was waiting for us.
We kept moving. The corridor twisted and turned, the walls narrowing until they pressed close around us. The air stank of damp stone and blood. And then —
The corridor opened into a vast chamber.
It was a pit. A massive, circular cavern, the floor far below us — and every inch of it writhed. Serpents, thousands of them, coiled and slithered over one another in a nightmarish sea of scales. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness, and the sound of their hissing filled the air like the whispering of the dead.
At the far end of the chamber stood a stone platform. And on it — a figure.
The Fang Master.
"You have come far," his voice echoed across the pit. "But resolve is not measured in battle alone. It is measured in choice."
He raised a hand — and the floor beneath us shifted. A stone bridge began extending toward the platform, narrow and treacherous.
"There is no turning back," the Fang Master said. "Cross the bridge — if you dare. But know this: only one of you may reach me."
Yoon-Hee's eyes snapped to me. "He's trying to turn us against each other."
"He'll fail," I said.
We moved forward together — and the serpents below began to stir.
The first one struck like lightning, launching itself from the pit with a shriek. I cut it down before it reached the bridge, its body falling back into the mass below.
Another followed — then another. They came faster, a relentless tide of scales and fangs. Yoon-Hee's dagger flashed, and my sword carved a path through the onslaught.
But the bridge was narrow. Too narrow.
One slip, one misstep — and the serpents would drag us under.
"We're not going to make it like this!" Yoon-Hee shouted, slashing through another attacker.
"Then we stop playing defense," I growled.
I surged forward, cutting down anything in my path. Yoon-Hee followed close behind, her movements a blur of speed and precision. The platform drew closer — but so did the Fang Master's presence.
And then the bridge began to collapse.
The stones crumbled behind us, falling into the pit in a cascade of debris and serpents.
"No!" Yoon-Hee gasped, her balance wavering.
I grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Go!" I shouted. "Don't stop!"
We ran. The bridge fell away behind us, but we didn't slow. The platform was within reach — just a few more steps —
The Fang Master raised his hand.
A serpent larger than any we had seen rose from the pit. Its body was as thick as a tree trunk, its scales black and gleaming. Its eyes glowed with cold malice.
It struck.
I pushed Yoon-Hee forward. "Go!"
The serpent's jaws closed around me.
Pain exploded through my body — but I didn't let go of my sword. With a roar, I drove the blade upward, into the roof of the creature's mouth.
The serpent convulsed — and then fell.
So did I.
The last thing I saw was Yoon-Hee reaching the platform — and the Fang Master's mask turning toward me as the darkness swallowed me whole.