Step. Step. Step.
A lone echo spread from the many measured footsteps of the five intruders, they came to steal the most valuable treasure, the Sacrificial Crystal, from the Sinners like them.
"So you're saying their crystal is protected by a barrier and not by guards?" Gex stopped in front of a fork in the road.
There were three paths ahead - one led to a dead end, a ruined passageway that once connected the lighthouse to the temple. The second led directly to the guards and was a trap as the third was the room with the crystal.
Hygon slowly turned his head, his low voice echoing off the stone walls:
"If we go forward we'll run into guards, if we go to the right we'll be trapped by guards on both sides."
Lorana glanced at Gex. He was their leader, one of the few people Lorana was willing to obey.
"What will we do?"
Confidently, Gex stepped forward, swishing his long coat.
"You know the plan. We'll take the guards."
Gex pointed his thumb at Tron and Morbia without turning around.
"A barrier is on them."
Then, a sly smirk appeared on his face and his eye narrowed, shining like a ghostly lantern. Darkness itself seemed to thicken around him, emanating from Gex's shoulders like flames.
"Once we have the Sacrificial Crystal, it will be time for an escape, a risky but spectacular one!"
With arms spread wide, Gex slowly turned his head toward Morbia.
"You've prepared everything, haven't you?"
"Sure, there are two corpses, so we have plenty of time."
"Good. Very good."
They split up, each team choosing their path and for Morbia it was the perfect opportunity to test how good the Blank was in battle.
...
A dark and deep passageway, only the occasional torch met on the way, its unusual flames illuminating the moss-covered stones, the cracks in the walls, and the heavy layers of dust sitting quietly in the corners, no one ever bothering them.
Tron and Morbia said nothing. They only walked in unison.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Droplets fell from the ceiling, passing through cracks in the stone paving, creating puddles here and there, reflecting the dim lights burning on the walls.
Shivering.
A shudder traveled across the surface of the water as it passed through the walls, the shudder coming from the second passageway - the guards met the intruders. The battle was in an active phase, full of chaos, where the attackers had the advantage.
No one expected that during the blizzard, when even the Ghosts were inactive, someone would dare such a crazy, almost suicidal act.
A bright light came from the end of the passage, it seemed there was a treasure that was not far from the truth.
The two silhouettes walked serenely into a spacious dome-shaped room.
The stone slabs covering the walls were old, but in good condition not allowing water to pass through the soil, only reflecting the light from the many unusual blue torches illuminating the vault as bright as possible.
"The Sacrificial Crystal, here it is."
Morbia said looking at the stone pedestal in the center.
A purple crystal with a curved shape sat on the pedestal, a long tongue was hidden inside, as if it had been ripped out during a conversation, a few nerves sticking out, crimson drops of blood frozen in the crystal as an eternal memory of the brutal way the owner had lost his ability to speak.
A translucent sphere covered the pedestal, emitting a faint glow, unwilling to let anything, not even darkness, near it.
In front of the barrier, there was only one guard, he looked the same as the two in front of the entrance to the lighthouse.
He was a young male, with a strong body and a confident look, full of desire to follow the orders of their leaders to satisfy the expectations of their goddess.
"What...?"
The young man stared at the strangers, his eyes wide, he didn't understand how Tron and Morbia ended up here.
"Fuck! I have to report this!"
He snatched a round stone with a rune carved into it from his belt before he spoke loudly:
"Alert! It's Olan! I don't know how, but there are intruders! Hurry! We must surround them!"
But... only the sounds of battle, occasional shrieks of pain, and heavy sighs wavering with the clang of metal were heard in response.
Step. Step. Step.
Unhurried footsteps echoed through the vault, moving precisely toward their goal without distraction.
Olan's gaze turned only to see Tron heading for the barrier. His behavior baffled not only the guard but Morbia as well. She stared at Tron with a detached look, trying to figure out if this was a cunning plan or if he was a complete idiot.
"What the hell are you going to do!?"
Olan tried to sound threatening even though his legs were trembling with fear.
'It doesn't matter that I'm alone. I have to protect the crystal! I must fulfill the goddess's expectations or I am not worthy of life!'
Tron slowly turned around.
"Hmm? I want to take that crystal. We came here for it, but... this thing seems to be in the way."
Without feeling the least bit tense, Tron put his hand to the barrier, it wasn't hot or cold, but possessed an obscene hardness.
"I've never felt anything like this..."
Anger and shame reflected on Olan's face, the intruder wasn't even paying attention to him.
"Get your filthy hands off the barrier!"
"Why...?"
Step.
Deep in Olan's eyes, the flames of battle flared up, and he stepped forward confidently.
"You will only obtain the Sacrificial Crystal through my corpse! I will do anything to protect our treasure! To the goddess!"
In response, all he saw was an emotionless, serene nod.
"I see... How did I not realize it right away? I'm not used to this world yet. Fine, then I'll kill you."
A chill ran down Olan's back along with a shiver running through his body.
It wasn't what Tron said but how he said it. These were not the words of a bloodthirsty warrior, but of a man who understood what it took to achieve his goal.
No matter that this obstacle was another man's life, for Tron, for the Blank, it didn't have any meaning.
At the same time, an insidious smirk passed across Morbia's face. Her eyes narrowed as she bit her pinky finger, watching the scene with pleasure.
"Alright! I'll fight!"
Olan exclaimed despite his fear when particles of flame came out at his wrists. A few seconds later, bracelets appeared quickly covering his hands with flames.
It was only the Flash, as Olan was the Applicant.
"Come on! Attack!"
The flames enveloping Olan's hands were white, but not pure light, but a dirty, almost gray, full of impurities.
Tron didn't know how to fight. Everything he learned about combat he got during his brief training with Morbia, where she beat him up constantly.
Morbia achieved her goal, however, as Tron learned the most important thing of all: summoning the Flash.
Particles of flame reflected in Tron's serene black eyes, resonating with the color of his Flash, quickly covering his palms from the rings on his wrists.
The red thread only showed itself for a moment before getting lost, still maintaining its properties as a conductor of energy from Morbia to Tron.
Olan tore forward, his gaze fixed on Tron's chest. His steps were precise, calibrated actions to approach his target quickly.
Sure, there was truth in his words, Tron didn't know how to take a proper stance and was just trying to copy Morbia.
His right leg was set slightly forward, left leg retracted back half a step, torso slightly lowered to keep the muscles relaxed, left arm forward for a block, right arm next to his chest for a quick momentum attack.
It was the bare minimum that even a child could learn with a few tries.
Olan deserved praise. He acted through his fear of the unknown, wanting to fulfill his duty to his comrades and the goddess.
"Die stranger!"
With a fierce scream coming from his throat, Olan stopped abruptly, leaving a long trail on the ground, particles of dust soared upwards whizzing in front of him, only to be dispelled by the speeding attack, a palm covered in gray flames bursting through the wind currents, closing in on Tron.
For a moment, Tron's eyes went wide, he just did the same, trying to learn something from Olan.
His attack wasn't that fast, and Tron charged in with a tightly clenched fist.
Then, at the point of their collision, Morbia's grin grew even wider, savoring the scene.
A fist covered in black flames slammed into the palm.
In a heartbeat, streams of blood rushed outward from the cracks spreading across the palm, flesh splitting apart, peeling from the fingers to expose bare bones covered in veins.
The bone shattered, breaking into fragments along with chunks of fingers and flesh flying before Tron's serene eyes.
His fist following the black flame traveled further, destroying Olan's arm down to his elbow, leaving only a bloody stump.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Thick drops of blood dripped down in massive cascades, pooling into a puddle, Olan's pale face reflected in the crimson surface.
Bright pain flared through his body, only to disappear into the void of his mind, all Olan could think about now was the fear of death.
Tron's eyebrow twitched once.
"Hmm...? You're still alive?"
He was genuinely surprised as he thought Olan should die immediately, before this everyone died in one attack.
"Fine, then I should try to kill you again."
Without questioning his decision, Tron stepped forward, clenching his fists tightly.
His boots dipped in pools of blood, leaving thick footprints on the cold ground that was practically the only witness to the brutal massacre.
Morbia blinked several times, staring at Tron with astonishment, her eyes deep.
'Hah... You're a fucking monster who wants to live but doesn't understand the value of life. Hehehehe, what could be better?'