Seven's eyes darted around the dim room, his breath shallow and uneven.
Every inch of the space seemed to whisper secrets he wasn't ready to hear.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger as he tried to steady himself, each heartbeat a loud reminder of the danger that lurked just out of sight.
Steve was gone.
The skeletal figure had vanished without a sound, leaving nothing but a heavy, sinking feeling in Seven's chest.
He blinked hard, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, but the empty space where Steve should have been was real enough to make him shudder.
He pressed a trembling hand against the cool stone wall, feeling the rough texture under his fingertips.
It was as if the wall could offer some silent comfort in this bleak place.
The thought crossed his mind, what was the point of holding a dagger against shadows and bones?
But he knew better than to let that doubt take over.
The cold weight of the crystal in his pocket reminded him that he wasn't out of options yet, even if it felt like a curse more than a tool.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off the floor.
Every movement felt slow, as if his body were underwater, and he shuffled toward the balcony where the pale light of dawn struggled to break through the darkness.
The early light revealed long, jagged shapes on the ground, but no sign of life or movement stirred below.
No clatter of bones, no eerie laughter—only silence that pressed in on him from every side.
Still, he moved along the wall, stepping with care and keeping his eyes on the empty courtyard ahead and the dark archway behind.
Every step was a reminder of the danger he faced, and yet he couldn't afford to stop. Fear clawed at his throat, but he forced it down, swallowing hard and whispering to himself, "Breathe. Focus."
His mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. How did I end up here? What did that damn crystal do to me? Each question felt heavy with regret and confusion.
The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if his actions had sealed his fate.
There was a bitter irony in the way he had shoved that crystal into his pocket, as if hiding it could hide the consequences of his choices.
As he reached the top of the creaking staircase, he paused, torn between two choices.
Two doors stood before him.
The first, always avoided, was tightly closed.
Its interior whispered promises of horrors he wasn't ready to face.
He hesitated, feeling the old familiar dread rising up inside him. Today wasn't the day to venture there.
Instead, his eyes settled on the second door, the one leading to the underground chamber.
The air grew colder as he neared it, and a faint hum, like the distant murmur of a secret, reached his ears.
With a cautious push, he opened the door. Its hinges groaned in protest, echoing down the narrow stairwell that led into darkness.
Taking a deep breath, Seven stepped forward.
Each footfall echoed against the stone walls—tik-tak, tik-tak—a relentless beat that made him feel as though the darkness itself were counting him down.
His heart pounded so loudly he could almost feel it vibrating in his chest.
The air was thick and heavy, and he ran a trembling hand along the damp wall for support as he descended into the unknown.
At the bottom, the underground chamber revealed itself with an eerie glow.
The centerpiece was a suspended fireball, its flickering light throwing strange, shifting shadows against the walls.
Yet what caught his attention wasn't the mesmerizing flame, it was the sight in the middle of the room.
There, lying in decay, were the remains of the white panther beast. Once a creature of power and grace, it now lay broken, reduced to rotting flesh.
The stench of decay mingled with the memory of that fierce battle, and Seven's stomach churned with both disgust and a deep, aching sorrow.
It wasn't just the death of a beast; it was a reminder of the brutal fight he had endured against the mysterious entity.
He scanned the room, his eyes searching for any hint of movement or a sign that he wasn't alone.
But the chamber was empty, silent, and as unyielding as the darkness that filled it.
For a brief moment, relief washed over him, a small comfort in knowing that, at least here, he was safe from immediate harm.
Yet even as he exhaled slowly, the relief was quickly replaced by a nagging dread. Thoughts of Steve's disappearance, the betrayal that might have been, and the unanswered questions about the crystal churned in his mind.
How had everything come to this? How could he have trusted his instincts in such a cursed place?
Climbing back up the creaking stairs felt like an eternity.
Each step was a test of his will, his legs trembling with both exhaustion and the weight of his fears.
When he reached the top, he paused again to steady himself.
There were only two more areas to search: the pub room, once his refuge, and the exit stairs that led to the ground level.
The pub room was a place he rarely used to access the exit stairs, as it reeked of decay.
His mind worked in a frenzy, a mix of determination and anxiety.
If the monster isn't here, then where is it? he thought.
The possibility that it might be waiting for him at the exit made his stomach twist in knots.
With a final, resolute grip on his dagger, Seven steeled himself for what lay ahead.
There was no turning back now. Every step he took was fueled by a desperate need to find answers—and a burning resolve not to let fear rule him any longer.
As he moved toward the pub room, every creak of the floor and every whisper of the wind outside reminded him of the stakes at hand.
He was fighting not only against the darkness that surrounded him but also against the doubts within.
Reaching the exit stairs, he paused to listen.
There was only silence. Slowly, with his heart pounding, he began to descend.
At the bottom, nothing greeted him—just an eerie emptiness.
The door was left open, as if something had passed sometime ago.
His pulse quickened. Swallowing hard,
he shut the door and sank to the floor, breathing heavily. Yet, the relief was short-lived—fear still filled the room.
'Where did that damn Steve go?' he wondered.
Had Steve finally decided to betray him?
The thought almost made Seven chuckle, and a small smirk tugged at his lips. But reality hit him like a cold slap.
"Wait… what the hell am I doing?" he thought. This wasn't a joke. This was serious. His brow furrowed with unease. Why was he treating it like some joke?
His thoughts raced. Had he hit his head when he fainted, or had that damn crystal messed with his mind?
A chill ran down his spine as he felt the cold weight in his pocket. His fingers twitched, trying not to reach for it.
Now that he thought about it… why had he even put the crystal in his pocket? The more he tried to remember, the foggier it became. Why the hell would I—
"KNOCK KNOCK"
His heart skipped a beat.
The sound made the wood vibrate against his back and sent a shiver through his body. His breath caught in his throat as his face twisted with fear and confusion.
And then—silence.