Lucian's eyes snapped open. For a moment, disorientation clung to him like a heavy fog, but then he saw the landscape surrounding him, and clarity returned. He was no longer in the prison.
The ground beneath him was cracked and damp, blanketed with patches of moss and mold that spread like rot over a decaying body. In every direction, gnarled trees stretched toward the sky, their branches tangled with thick strands of moss and parasitic growth. The air smelled of wet earth and decay, heavy and damp, and the sky above was pale and sickly green, streaked with stormy clouds that flickered with unnatural, erratic light.
In the distance, the Tower of Rebirth loomed, an impossible monolith that seemed to pierce the heavens. Its base was wrapped in twisting black vines, their edges faintly pulsing as though alive. The surface of the tower was smooth, metallic, yet rusted and pitted, as though time itself had worn it down.
Lucian pushed himself up, brushing off dirt and mossy leaves that clung to his body. His lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Well," he muttered, surveying the scene, "this looks exactly how the journal described it."
The thought barely had time to settle when a sudden, searing pain erupted on his neck, sharp enough to force a hiss through his clenched teeth. His hand flew to the spot, fingers pressing against skin that felt as though it were on fire. Beneath his palm, something began to rise, like lines or markings being branded onto his flesh.
Lucian's gaze darted around the wasteland, and his eyes caught the shimmer of a pond nearby, its surface unnaturally still. Without hesitation, he ran toward it, his breath coming in sharp bursts as the burning sensation intensified.
He dropped to his knees at the water's edge, his hands trembling as he reached down to scoop some into his palm, hoping to cool the searing pain. But just as his fingers hovered above the surface, a voice, sharp and feminine, cut through the silence:
"If you want to keep those hands of yours, I'd advise against touching that liquid."
The words were calm, almost casual, but carried a cold authority that froze Lucian in place. He straightened slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin before he even turned to face the source of the voice.
"One of the four guardians of the tower, already here." His voice was low, tinged with amusement. "I thought it would take longer, but I guess this pushes the plan ahead faster than I expected."
He turned, his grin widening as his gaze landed on the figure standing a few steps away.
She looked human at first glance: a tall woman with long, flowing blonde hair that cascaded down her back in perfect strands. Her armor was sleek and black, hugging her frame like a second skin, and it covered her entire body save for her hands and the upper portion of her face. But her eyes gave her away—pitch black, empty, like twin voids, and her presence radiated an unnatural stillness that set her apart from anything mortal.
"What's wrong with the water?" Lucian asked, his tone light, almost conversational. "If you don't mind me asking."
The woman didn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable, before she bent down and picked up a small rock from the ground. Without a word, she threw it into the pond.
The moment the rock touched the surface, the entire pool shifted, its clear water darkening to a vibrant, sickly green. A sharp hiss filled the air as the rock disintegrated on contact, vanishing into a puff of acidic vapor.
"That," the woman said, her voice steady, "is no true liquid." Her black eyes remained locked on Lucian as she continued. "That pond is alive. A predator that feeds on ignorant creatures like yourself."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, stepping back from the water's edge. "Good thing you stopped me, then," he said, his tone still calm, though the corner of his grin twitched with something unreadable. "But I imagine you didn't come all this way to warn me about hungry puddles."
The woman stood motionless, her gaze sharp and unyielding, as cold as the void itself. Lucian felt the weight of her stare like a blade pressed against his neck.
"It's my job," she said, her tone as flat and emotionless as her eyes, "to make sure any new arrivals to this realm find their way to the Tower of Rebirth. Some make it there. Some don't." She paused, letting the words linger in the air. "Whether they survive or not… depends on their luck."
Her lips barely moved as she added, "It seems today is your lucky day."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, his grin returning. "Well then, tour guide, what do we—"
Before he could finish, a gust of wind brushed past his face, cold and sudden. The woman was gone.
No—she wasn't gone. She was behind him.
The edge of a knife rested against his throat, so close that Lucian felt the sting of its tip biting into his skin. A warm trickle of blood slid down his neck, and the tension in her arm told him that a single wrong move would end him where he stood.
Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I'm not here to play games with you, boy."
The blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the soft snick of steel sliding into its sheath punctuating her words. Her grip on Lucian didn't lessen, though. With one hand, she grabbed him by the collar, her strength more than enough to lift him slightly off balance.
"Hey, easy there," Lucian said, trying to mask his irritation with feigned amusement. "I—"
She didn't wait for him to finish. Her free hand sliced through the air like a blade, and the space in front of them split open. A rift formed, its jagged edges crackling with faint, dark energy. The gap widened, revealing a swirling portal within, its colors shifting and writhing like an oil slick in dim light.
Before Lucian could react, she tossed him toward the rift with a single, effortless motion.
He stumbled through, the sensation of the portal like being plunged into freezing water, his breath ripped from his lungs. As he turned to look back, he caught one last glimpse of the woman standing on the other side, her expression unreadable.
"Good luck," she said, her voice calm but cutting.
Lucian hit the ground hard, the cold stone beneath him sending a sharp jolt through his body. He grunted, rolling onto his side, and looked back just in time to see the portal behind him snap shut. Its edges shimmered faintly for a moment before dissolving into nothingness.
Pushing himself to his feet, Lucian brushed off the dust clinging to his clothes and took in his surroundings. The room was vast and dimly lit, the flickering glow of torches casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. In the center stood a colossal door, its surface etched with intricate, shifting runes that seemed to hum faintly, pulsing in time with the flicker of the flames.
All around him, humanoid figures and grotesque creatures lingered, each of them silent and unmoving, as if waiting for something. Some were massive and hulking, their distorted bodies blending flesh and armor, while others were barely recognizable as living beings, their forms twisted and unnatural. Yet none of them moved toward the door.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. Why are they all just standing there?
He strode forward, weaving through the motionless crowd. His gaze landed on a figure that looked the most human—a giant of a man, his head nearly brushing the vaulted ceiling. The giant sat cross-legged, his hands clasped in a prayer-like position, his lips moving in a low, incomprehensible chant. Even from a distance, Lucian felt the oppressive weight of the killing intent radiating from the man's body, like a storm ready to break.
Still, Lucian wasn't concerned. He'd read about this in God's Journal. The safe zones in the tower had strict rules—no killing, enforced by the tower itself. The killing intent was likely a display, a warning meant to keep weaker challengers at bay.
Lucian stopped a few steps away from the giant, tilting his head to get a better look at the towering figure. He raised his voice. "Hey, big guy! Why's everyone standing out here instead of going inside?"
The giant didn't respond. He didn't even glance in Lucian's direction, his focus fixed entirely on his chant.
Lucian sighed and turned his attention to another creature nearby—a slime-like being that glowed faintly green, its gelatinous body swaying back and forth rhythmically. It was small, barely coming up to Lucian's knees, but its constant motion gave it a strange, unsettling energy.
"Hey, what's up with everyone here?" Lucian shouted, his voice echoing faintly in the cavernous space.
The slime didn't stop its swaying. It didn't even acknowledge him.
Lucian's patience began to fray. "Screw this," he muttered, shaking his head. If none of them were going to talk, he'd figure it out himself.
He turned toward the giant door, its towering height almost mocking in its grandeur. The air around it felt different, heavier somehow, and as he drew closer, the faint hum of its runes grew louder, resonating in his chest.
Lucian reached out and placed his hand on the cold, etched surface.
The reaction was immediate.
Every creature in the room turned, their heads snapping toward him in unison. Their movements were sharp, unnatural, and in that instant, hundreds of eyes locked onto Lucian, their gazes drilling into him like daggers.
Lucian froze for a moment, a strange, prickling sensation creeping up his spine. It feels like I've just painted a target on my back.
He glanced over his shoulder. The creatures hadn't moved, but their stares were unrelenting, their postures tense as though waiting for him to make his next move.
"Strange," Lucian muttered under his breath. Why does it feel like they're waiting for something?
Turning back to the door, he tightened his grip on its edge and began to push. The ancient mechanism groaned, the sound deep and grating, as the door slowly inched open. The faint glow of the runes intensified, spilling light through the widening gap.
Lucian ignored the stares burning into his back and stepped forward, letting the door's light wash over him as he pushed it open further.