The dungeon echoed with the heavy breaths of Bell Cranel as he clutched his sword. The Minotaur towered before him, its massive form blocking the only exit from the narrow passageway. Bell's hands trembled, his heart racing wildly, the fear of certain death consuming him. His blade felt like a useless weight in his hand, the blood dripping from his arms making it harder to maintain his grip.
The Minotaur snorted, its deep, guttural growl shaking the very walls of the dungeon. It charged forward with terrifying speed, swinging its axe toward Bell. Instinctively, Bell raised his sword in defense, but the blow came too fast. He barely managed to deflect the strike, his feet skidding backward, the sheer force of the blow leaving him breathless.
His mind screamed at him to run, to flee, but his legs wouldn't obey. His gaze flickered briefly to the floor, then back up to the terrifying monster. It was hopeless. He was going to die here.
But then, a sudden blur of motion interrupted his despair.
With a brutal clash of steel, the Minotaur's advance was stopped. The beast howled in pain as a massive sword, glowing faintly with dark power, slammed into its shoulder, forcing it back.
Arbaal, the towering warrior from the Khorne Familia, stood there, his face a mask of anger, his red eyes locked onto the Minotaur. His massive, spiked mace gleamed with an unnatural intensity as he swung it through the air with terrifying precision, striking the beast's ribs with a sickening crack.
Araveena was close behind him, her blade flashing in the dim light of the dungeon. Her elven features were grim, her eyes fierce with the desire for battle. She moved like a shadow, her long silver hair trailing behind her as she swiftly closed the gap between herself and the monster. She thrust her blade deep into the Minotaur's side, twisting it with deadly accuracy, before pulling it free with a sickening wet sound.
"Stay back, coward," Arbaal growled at Bell, his voice deep and guttural. His fierce, red eyes never left the Minotaur as it staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound on its side.
Bell, still in a daze, stumbled backward, his legs giving way. His sword felt like a useless weight in his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. Something deep inside him stirred, a raw hunger to fight, to survive, to prove he wasn't the coward that had nearly lost his life in the face of this monster.
With a roar, the Minotaur charged again, swinging its great axe. Arbaal blocked the blow with his massive shield, the force of the strike sending a shockwave through the air. Araveena was already on the move, her lithe body darting to the side as she closed in. Her eyes were cold and calculating, every movement precise as she waited for her moment.
And then it came.
The Minotaur's attention shifted slightly as Arbaal swung his mace to knock the beast's weapon away, leaving it open for Araveena's strike. With a speed and grace that seemed almost unnatural, she dove under the beast's swing, positioning herself perfectly behind it. In one fluid motion, she sliced her sword across its legs, severing the tendons and causing it to stumble.
The Minotaur roared in fury, but before it could react, Ais Wallenstein—always calm, always deadly—appeared beside them, her sword raised high. With a single, fluid strike, she cleaved through the beast's exposed neck, the sharp edge of her blade effortlessly severing the flesh. Blood sprayed from the wound, staining the dungeon floor as the Minotaur collapsed with a final, guttural scream.
The three warriors stood over the monster's lifeless body, their breathing heavy, their bodies covered in blood and gore. Arbaal gave the Minotaur's corpse a swift kick, ensuring it was truly dead before turning to Araveena, his gaze unreadable.
"Well fought," he muttered. His voice was less harsh than usual, a hint of respect in his tone. "But don't get used to me saving you."
Araveena, wiping blood from her face with the back of her hand, shot Arbaal a knowing look. "You only saved me because it was Khorne's will," she replied, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable edge. She then turned her gaze toward Bell, who was still crouched on the ground, visibly shaking.
"You," she said, her tone a mixture of curiosity and disdain, "what are you doing here?"
Bell's heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he pushed himself to his feet, his gaze still fixed on the lifeless Minotaur. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in the way," he muttered, his voice shaky. "I... I was scared."
Ais stepped forward, her blade now sheathed at her side. She regarded Bell with a gaze that was soft yet firm. "Fear is normal," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "But you cannot let it control you." Her gaze flicked to Arbaal and Araveena. "And you—what are you doing in the Dungeon?"
Arbaal sneered, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "None of your concern, sword princess," he growled. "We are here to spill blood for Khorne. That's all that matters."
Ais frowned but said nothing further. She had seen many adventurers before, but there was something about these two that made her uneasy. Their power, their rage, their overwhelming presence—it wasn't like anything she had encountered before.
Araveena was no stranger to conflict. She was used to the bloodshed, the screams of dying foes, the unending call for more war. But there was something in the Dungeon, something in this place that felt... off. Bell's fear, his hesitation, it unsettled her. She had never known fear in the way he had, never allowed herself to be weak.
"You're a fighter, then?" she asked Bell, her voice cold.
"I'm... trying to be," Bell replied, his eyes flicking to her sword, then to Arbaal's. "I want to be strong. But I don't know how to—"
"Strength comes through battle," Arbaal interrupted, his voice low and harsh. "It's not about how many times you swing your sword. It's about how much you're willing to bleed. How much you're willing to sacrifice. The weak die in battle. The strong rise from the blood."
Bell's heart clenched at his words. He could see the truth in them, raw and unforgiving.
Araveena, hearing Arbaal's words, felt a deep, almost primal urge stir within her. She was part of the Khorne Familia for a reason. Khorne demanded blood, and she would give it, in abundance. There was no other way forward.
After a few moments of silence, Arbaal's voice cut through again. "We've done what we came here for. The Minotaur is dead. But don't think you're safe." His eyes flicked to Bell. "You will be tested. And when that time comes, you will know who the true warriors are."
As Arbaal and Araveena turned to leave, Araveena glanced back at Bell one last time. "Strength is earned, coward. And I will be watching you."
Bell, still trembling, nodded silently. His encounter with them had shaken him to his core, but it also ignited something within him—a fire that refused to be extinguished.
As the trio left the Dungeon, the sound of their footsteps faded into the depths. Bell was left standing amidst the carnage, the blood-soaked floor reflecting the brutal reality that awaited him.
Back at the Khorne Familia's Fortress
Later that day, Araveena stood before the spire of the Khorne Familia's fortress, her sword now clean and gleaming in the light. The bloodlust had not left her—it never did—but her thoughts lingered on Bell. She had seen something in him, something familiar, a flicker of hesitation that she too had once known.
Her training, her entire existence, had been forged through the chaos of battle, but it was only with Khorne's blessing that she had truly begun to understand what it meant to fight with purpose. She was strong, but she could be stronger still. The whispers of the Blood God echoed in her mind.
"Khorne demands blood," Araveena whispered softly, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "And I will deliver it."