The crack in the obelisk widened, black mist pouring out like smoke, swirling and twisting as if it had a mind of its own. The whispers rose into a chaotic murmur, voices overlapping, words indistinct but heavy—oppressive—suffocating.
Then it stepped out.
A towering knight, clad in ceremonial armor, long since ruined by time. The plating was dulled, cracked, blackened, like it had been dragged through centuries of war and abandonment. A flowing red cloak trailed behind it, edges frayed, shifting in a breeze that didn’t exist.
And inside the battered armor, barely visible through the fractures and gaps—
A skeleton.
Bone bleached white by age and exposure, fused to the armor itself as if it had never been meant to come apart. Hollow eye sockets burned faintly with a cold, unnatural light, staring at us with a weight that made my stomach turn.
It wasn’t just a mindless construct.
It had been someone once.
Someone who had died here—and then kept going.
Its helmet tilted slightly, as if it were studying us.
And then it spoke.
Or maybe it didn’t.
The words didn’t come from its mouth—there was no breath to give them life.
They came from the walls, from the floor, from the very air pressing in on us.
The entire dungeon was speaking.
“You stand before judgment.”
The voice was low. Cold. Absolute.
Final.
“Prove your worth, or be forgotten.”
A notification blinked into existence above its head:
[Warden of Agony]
And just like that, the fight began.
 
Rez and Maria didn’t waste a second. Twin explosions of fire and lightning roared across the chamber, slamming into the Warden and lighting up the room in a flash of blue and orange. The force shook the ground hard enough that I had to brace myself against a pillar to stay upright.
For a heartbeat, it looked like it might have actually done something.
Hope swelled.
Then the Warden stepped forward.
Completely unfazed.
Rez swore under his breath. “That’s not great.”
Maria scowled, her hands already pulling together another spell. “Hit it harder.”
Another blast of flame. Another crackling arc of magic. The air fizzed and hummed with power, thick enough that it tasted like metal on my tongue. For a second, I swore I saw a hairline fracture split across the Warden’s armor.
Thorne rushed in.
Sword raised.
Teeth gritted.
No doubt.
She met the Warden head-on.
The clash was brutal—louder than thunder.
She slammed her blade down with all her weight—the Warden caught it mid-swing, an armored gauntlet clamping down on the steel like it was nothing. It twisted, jerking her off-balance, and its own massive greatsword came swinging toward her like a falling mountain.
Thorne barely managed to block, the impact rattling through her entire frame, her boots sliding back across the stone floor.
I moved. Fast.
The moment she was clear, I threw a dagger—then another—both hitting my target before flickering and reappearing at my belt, ready to throw again.
I kept moving.
Darting between pillars. Staying low. Staying fast.
Dodging the Warden’s massive strikes by inches.
Throwing dagger after dagger after dagger.
Each one landed.
Each one stuck.
And each one barely seemed to matter.
Rez fired off another magic blast.
This time, the Warden didn’t just tank the hit.
It dodged it.
Twisting, sidestepping, flowing with an unnatural grace no armor that heavy should have had.
Maria launched a searing wall of fire—
The Warden moved again, angling its body to avoid the worst of it.
And that’s when I felt my stomach drop.
Deep. Heavy. Cold.
It wasn’t just taking hits.
It was learning.
Studying us.
Adapting.
And at this rate?
We were running out of time.
 
Rez cursed, stumbling back, his breath ragged. “I’m running low on mana—”
“Yeah? Well, I’m pretty much out,” Maria shot back, her voice strained. Sweat dripped down her temple, her entire body tight with exhaustion.
That hit me like a punch to the gut.
They were running out of power.
And the Warden?
It wasn’t even tired.
It stopped attacking altogether, standing tall and still like some ancient executioner.
Then it raised one gauntleted hand.
The whispers surged, swelling into a deafening chorus that shook the walls. The ground trembled under my boots. The air thickened—oppressive, heavy, crushing down on my chest like a hand trying to smother me.
Then, with a sickening, bone-deep crack, something burst from the obelisk.
A black chain.
It lashed out like a serpent, impossibly fast, slicing through the air straight toward Maria.
Before she could react—before any of us could even blink—the chain latched onto her chest.
Maria choked, her eyes going wide, terror flashing across her face. Her body convulsed violently, hands clawing uselessly at the chain wrapped around her like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey.
Then another chain struck.
This one wrapped tight around Rez.
“No—!” I tried to move, tried to do something, but I was too slow.
Their bodies seized, their backs arching, muscles locking.
And then, their magic—their own magic—turned against them.
A pulse of fire and lightning erupted outward.
But instead of slamming into the Warden like every other time—Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
It folded.
Curled.
Twisted—
And surged straight back into Maria and Rez.
Maria screamed.
A raw, awful sound.
Rez let out a strangled gasp, his entire body trembling.
I lunged for them—daggers forgotten—reaching out like I could pull them free—
Too late.
Their bodies crumbled.
Not burned.
Not blasted apart.
They just… disintegrated.
Ash flaked into the air, fine and gray, their forms collapsing into drifting fragments that twisted on an unseen breeze.
One second, they were there.
Alive. Laughing. Bickering. Fighting.
The next?
Gone.
Just… gone.
The whispers receded, falling back into a dull, contented murmur.
Like the dungeon had just finished its meal.
I stood there, frozen, my breath trapped in my lungs, my daggers still clenched in white-knuckled fists.
I had never seen anyone die before.
Not like this.
Not like nothing.
And now there was no coming back.
 
Their ashes still floated in the air, carried by a force I couldn’t see, swallowed into the stone, into the dungeon, into the whispers that had been stalking us since the first step inside.
I wanted to scream.
Wanted to do something.
Anything.
But the Warden was still here.
And now, it turned to me.
Its hollow eye sockets burned with a cold, steady light as the ruined helmet twisted toward me, slow and deliberate.
Thorne was barely standing.
She was bleeding, her armor cracked and dented, blood seeping through the battered plates.
Her sword was still up. Her stance still ready.
But she looked one hit away from collapse.
And me?
I was the last real thing between the Warden and total victory.
The skeletal knight tilted its head farther, the bones of its neck creaking audibly, studying me like I was an insect pinned to a board.
Then it spoke.
Not through the whispers this time.
Not through the dungeon itself.
It spoke directly into my mind.
 
“What will you do, shadow-walker?”
 
The words pierced through me. Cold. Heavy. Final.
My heart slammed against my ribs, every instinct screaming at me to run. I had Fast Travel. I could flee. Make it home. Survive one more day.
But there was no running. I couldn’t leave Thorne.
There was only one choice now.
Fight.
Or die.
And I wasn’t planning to become another pile of ash in this cursed dungeon.
 
Something inside me clicked.
Everything I had trained for, every talent I had unlocked—they weren’t just words on a menu anymore.
They were alive.
Moving through me. Guiding me.
I felt it.
Opportunist. The second the Warden focused on me, its guard shifted, its balance wavered.
Shadow Step. Energy coiled in my muscles, thrumming through my legs, begging to be unleashed.
Quick Hands. My grip tightened around my daggers, every movement fast, fluid, instinctual.
I exhaled, slow and steady.
And then I moved.
The Warden’s greatsword came down in a brutal arc—a crushing, executioner’s strike meant to end me in a single blow.
But I was already gone.
Shadow Step.
The world blurred, reality bending around me.
In a blink, I reappeared behind the Warden. No hesitation, no second-guessing.
I threw both daggers, aiming for the vulnerable gap at the back of its knee.
The blades sank deep with a satisfying, jarring thunk.
The Warden staggered and lost its balance.
I didn’t wait to admire it.
I hit the ground running, my daggers snapping back into my belt with a shimmer of light, ready for the next strike.
Thorne saw the opening too.
With a roar that was more pain than anger, she slammed her foot into the ground.
A shockwave rippled outward, slamming into the Warden like an invisible chain, locking its movements for a heartbeat longer than it could afford.
It snapped its skull toward her instantly.
Focused. Locked on.
A taunt.
A sacrifice.
The Warden abandoned me completely, whirling toward Thorne, greatsword raised high.
And for a brief, perfect second—it left itself open.
I moved.
Ducking left, feinting right, weaving through the ruined chamber like a shadow peeled loose from the floor.
Then I saw it.
Beneath the cracked ribs.
The heart.
Black. Twisting. Beating slow and heavy, each throb sending a ripple of wrongness through the air.
The weakness.
I lunged.
Both daggers drove forward, plunging straight into the heart, sinking deep into the pulsing darkness.
The Warden shuddered violently.
The ghostly embers in its hollow eyes flickered.
And then—
The bones collapsed.
Piece by piece, the ancient skeleton crumbled, centuries of unnatural strength abandoning it all at once.
The greatsword clanged uselessly to the stone floor. The red cloak fluttered one last time—then lay still.
The whispers that had haunted us since the portal unraveled with it, fading like smoke in a dying wind.
The chamber fell silent.
Heavy. Final.
It was over.
I was still alive.
The dust settled slowly, falling like a grim snow across the ruined floor.
The last shudder of that cursed heart guttered out into stillness, until there was nothing left but silence and ash.
But I didn’t feel victorious.
I stood there, breathing hard, my daggers still clenched in aching, bloodied hands—but for once, it wasn’t exhaustion or fear filling my lungs.
It was guilt.
Sharp. Heavy. Inescapable.
I barely knew Rez and Maria.
We had met less than an hour ago.
I didn’t know where they were from, what they wanted from life, if they had people waiting for them back home.
What they fought for.
What they dreamed of.
And now?
They were gone.
Gone because I had said yes.
Because they needed a fourth.
Because I had been there.
I swallowed, my throat dry, staring at the empty spaces where they had stood.
Their ashes had already faded, scattered into the dungeon’s cold, hungry air like they were never even here.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
None of this was fair.
 
A voice broke through the silence.
Rough, low, but steady.
“You actually killed it.”
I turned, snapping out of the spiral.
Thorne stood a few feet away.
She looked like hell.
Her armor was battered, blood stained the seams, and her sword was planted in the ground, holding her upright.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were steady.
She studied me, unreadable for a long moment.
“Not bad for a level six,” she said.
I let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but caught somewhere on the way out. “High praise,” I muttered.
Thorne tilted her head slightly, considering. “See? You weren’t completely useless after all.”
I swallowed hard, flexing my hands around the hilts of my daggers. “Glad I could meet expectations,” I said, the words heavier than I meant them to be.
She huffed—a sound that might’ve been a dry laugh—and shifted her weight again.
Painfully.
“Rez and Maria were good fighters,” she said.
Not grieving.
Not mourning.
Just facts.
Cold. Brutal.
“They didn’t deserve this.”
I nodded stiffly. “No one does.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then she looked at me again, her voice quieter.
“But thank you. For keeping me alive.”
I forced myself to nod.
She meant it. I could see that.
And maybe that should have made me feel better.
Maybe it should have felt like a win.
But it didn’t.
Because Maria and Rez weren’t here to reap the rewards.
And they never would be.
 
The obelisk trembled, deep cracks splintering through its obsidian core. The surrounding air seemed to shudder, as if the dungeon itself was breathing for the first time in centuries.
Then, with a final low groan, the obelisk collapsed into ash.
And inside it—
A large treasure chest sat waiting.
Thorne and I stared at it.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Then, slowly, she turned to me.
“Take it.”
I blinked. “What?”
She gave a small, tired shrug. “It’s yours. All of it.”
I frowned. “Thorne, you fought just as hard as I did—”
“You saved my life,” she cut in, her voice steady. “This is my way of saying thanks.”
I hesitated, guilt gnawing at my ribs.
Rez and Maria were dead.
And here I was, standing in front of a literal treasure chest, as if this was just some game where we were dividing the loot before heading home.
It wasn’t fair.
But I also knew arguing wouldn’t change anything.
So I nodded. “Alright.”
I stepped forward and lifted the lid.
Inside, a few items gleamed in the dim dungeon light, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the largest one.
A shield.
Its metal surface was smooth and polished, despite having just spent who knows how long sealed away inside an ancient obelisk. Etched along the outer rim were intricate runes, faint but pulsing with residual magic.
A notification appeared.
 
Shield of the Ultimate Reflection – A Rank
This metal shield is capable of reflecting certain spells back at their casters.
Reduces damage from Magical and Physical attacks by 20%.
 
I let out a low whistle. “That’s… pretty ridiculous.”
I turned to Thorne, holding the shield out toward her.
She looked up, eyes widening slightly. “What?”
“Your current shield looks a bit rough,” I said simply. “This should be yours.”
For the first time since the fight ended, she looked genuinely surprised.
She stepped closer, fingers brushing over the polished metal, testing the weight as she took it from my hands.
A slow, impressed smile spread across her face. “I can’t even pretend to argue with this.”
She strapped the shield onto her arm, giving it a testing motion, and let out a satisfied huff.
“This,” she said, “is a damn good find.”
I grinned weakly. “Guess you get something out of this after all.”
Her expression softened slightly, but she didn’t say anything.
She didn’t have to.
 
I turned back to the chest, running a hand through my hair before reaching in again.
My fingers brushed against something soft, rough-textured. I grabbed it and pulled out a small brown sack that was heavier than I expected.
Curious, I loosened the drawstring and peered inside.
Gemstones.
Brilliant, cut stones of different shapes and colors glowed faintly in my hands. Deep sapphires, fiery rubies, shimmering emeralds. Each one was flawless, polished to perfection.
I let out a low whistle. “Okay. Now this? This is nice.”
I tilted the bag slightly, watching the gems catch the light.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
Thorne chuckled behind me. “Now those? Those are worth some serious gold.”
I glanced up, and she was watching me with an easy smile, leaning on her new shield.
She nodded toward the sack. “Take them. Please.”
I hesitated, but when I met her eyes, I could see she meant it.
I smiled, nodding. “Alright.”
I tied the sack shut and slipped it into my void bag, where it joined my steadily growing collection of things I never expected to own.
Finally, I turned back to the last item in the chest.
A small, ornate box.
Carefully, I lifted the lid—and found several glass vials neatly lined inside.
Potions.
I pulled one out, holding it up to one of the flickering torches. A rich crimson liquid swirled inside, thick and slow-moving.
A notification popped up.
 
Potion of Unbridled Healing
When consumed, this potion will restore 50% of the Chosen’s total health, regardless of their maximum HP.
 
I raised my eyebrows. “Well. That’s ridiculous.”
Without a second thought, I plucked one of the vials free and tossed it to Thorne.
She caught it easily, inspecting the bottle before letting out an approving hum.
Then she popped the cork and swigged it down in one go.
A faint golden shimmer passed over her skin, and her breathing immediately evened out. Some of the deep bruising along her arms faded slightly, and the exhausted slump to her shoulders disappeared.
She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. “Damn. I feel so much better.”
I smirked. “You’re welcome.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
I blinked. “It’s Felix, by the way.”
Thorne tilted her head. “Huh?”
“My name.” I gestured vaguely at myself. “Felix.”
She stared at me for a second, then let out a breath of laughter. “You’re kidding.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She shook her head, still chuckling. “After everything we just went through—dodging death, fighting statues, watching an animated skeleton try to murder us—and I never even asked your name?”
I blinked. “You know, now that you mention it… yeah. That’s kind of messed up.”
We looked at each other for a beat.
Then, at the same time, we burst into laughter.
Deep, tired, real laughter.
The kind that came when you survived something you shouldn’t have.
The kind that felt too loud, too real, too alive in a place that had tried to erase us.
The laughter faded into tired chuckles, and as the quiet settled over us again, I felt the exhaustion hit me like a freight train.
My legs wobbled. My hands ached.
But for the first time since stepping into this dungeon, I actually felt like we had won.