Chapter 14: The Call of Shadows
The pain was deafening, echoing through my battered body with each agonizing movement. But I clawed forward, inch by excruciating inch, through the rubble-strewn corridor. My fingers scraped against jagged stone, leaving bloody smears in my wake. Every breath was labored, every heartbeat a painful reminder of my fragile mortality. Yet I pushed on.
The light ahead grew brighter, pulsating with an unnatural, crimson hue. It wasn't warm or comforting, it was cold, sinister, and yet irresistibly magnetic. Something about it called to me, as if whispering promises just beyond the edge of comprehension. It didn't make sense, but deep down, I felt it, this wasn't just light. It was something alive, something ancient. I didn't know what it was, but I knew this: if I stopped, if I let the darkness take me now, my body would remain here, lifeless and forgotten.
My vision blurred, black spots creeping in at the edges. My body was screaming for rest, for release, but I refused to succumb. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself forward, dragging my broken form closer to the glow.
The narrow passage finally gave way to a vast, dome-shaped hall. Its walls were unlike any I had seen before; smooth and gleaming like polished obsidian, their surfaces etched with cryptic runes that seemed to pulse faintly in the crimson light. The air hummed with an energy that crawled under my skin, cold and oppressive. At the center of the chamber stood an altar, its design primal and ancient. A blade protruded from its heart, its dark steel almost absorbing the light around it, save for the crimson gleam of a crystal embedded in its hilt. The crystal seemed to pulse in time with my own heartbeat, as if tethered to my very soul.
This was it. This was what had been calling me.
The air was thick and heavy, pressing against my chest like an unseen weight. Each heartbeat felt like an eternity, and with every passing second, death's cold grip tightened. My vision wavered, and the world tilted as darkness began to overtake me.
"No," I whispered hoarsely, as if defying the void itself.
With the last remnants of my strength, I reached out. My torn, bloodied palm met the blade's cold steel. A jolt shot through me, and then, nothing. The world disappeared, swallowed by an infinite void.
I awoke to utter blackness. The air was still and suffocating, the silence oppressive. My body felt submerged in a thick, viscous liquid, its metallic tang unmistakable. I didn't need to see it to know, it was blood.
I shifted, the liquid rippling around me.
"Is anyone there?!" My voice rang out, desperate and trembling.
No answer. The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint sounds of the liquid sloshing with my movements. Panic clawed at my chest, but before it could take hold, a deep, resonant voice shattered the quiet.
"Thou art unworthy of wielding my fragment," it intoned, the words reverberating in the space around me. "Prove thyself in the Field of Blades."
The ground beneath me gave way suddenly, pulling me down into an unseen abyss.
A blinding light engulfed me as I plummeted, the sensation of falling disorienting but strangely painless. I hit the ground with a jarring thud, yet my body remained unharmed. As I pushed myself to my feet, confusion clouded my thoughts.
Before me stretched endless grasslands, their vibrant green an unsettling contrast to the sinister crimson glow of the blade. Hundreds of weapons jutted from the ground, their forms eerily lifelike but clearly carved from stone. They radiated an ancient power, as if each one carried the memories of battles long forgotten.
The grasslands were unnaturally still, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. The stone weapons emitted a faint hum, their vibrations barely perceptible but undeniably present. It was as though the entire field was alive, waiting, watching.
I stumbled forward, dazed, until something startled me, a translucent screen materialized before my eyes, hovering just out of reach. The words it displayed were stark and unnerving:
[Field of Blades]
[Completion Rate: 0/147]
[Details: Player may choose to challenge one trial every 24 hours. Player will inherit the fragment of ERROR upon completing all trials.]
The translucent screen flickered, its text unyielding and final. '147 trials.' My chest tightened. Each blade in this field was a monument to a challenge yet to come, a promise of pain and struggle.
What kind of madness was this?
The screen blinked, its faint glow casting a surreal light over the endless field. My heart raced as I glanced around, searching for answers, for an escape, for anything to ground me in reality. But there was nothing, only the blades, the screen, and the growing weight of uncertainty.