Yue hovered just above the cracked stone floor, her voice soft and distant, as if carried by the air itself.
"This… is the main hall of the temple."
Kael's eyes narrowed. The air felt heavier here—like something pressing on his chest, a presence older than death.
He swallowed hard.
"So what exactly happens here?" he asked, his voice low.
In the distance, the rest of the group moved cautiously, fumbling with the torches embedded in the cold walls.
Flames flickered to life one by one, casting long shadows that twisted and danced like things trying to escape the light.
Yue didn't answer right away. Instead, she floated closer to him, smile faint and unreadable.
"Name the temple, Kael."
Something inside him turned cold. His breath caught.
He didn't know how he remembered it. He just did.
"…Temple of ...Sacrifice," he said.
The words hung in the air like a curse.
Then came the scream.
"Aaaaaaa—!"
It echoed through the hall, tearing the fragile calm to pieces.
Torches clattered to the floor as everyone turned to face the horror revealed by the flickering light:
A massive figure stood at the center of the hall.
Headless.
Its severed head cradled in one arm like a grotesque offering, the face hidden behind a demonic red mask.
In its other hand—it held a blade as long as a man was tall, jagged and stained black with time.
Beneath its feet lay bones. Countless bones. Shattered ribs, twisted spines, skulls split in two. A guillotine towered behind the figure, its blade suspended as though waiting for a signal.
The wood beneath it was soaked with something dark that had long since dried but never faded.
And beyond it all…
A statue.
Half-collapsed, yet unmistakably divine in form. But not a god of life. This was a god of endings. Its eyes gouged out. Its mouth sewn shut.
Its hands raised in either benediction—or mockery.
Kael took a step back.
Then a scream pierced the silence—shrill, panicked.
"Oh my gods—what is that?!" one girl shrieked, stumbling back.
"Is that a head?!" another gasped, clutching her mouth.
"Stay back! Don't go near it!" someone shouted.
"It's holding its own damn head!"
Yue's voice echoed like a death bell in the vaulted silence.
"The final trial," she said softly. "The Blood Trial begins here."
Kael's breath caught in his throat. He turned to her, the flickering torchlight casting hollow shadows across her face. She looked calm.
He wasn't.
Suddenly—a sound.
Bones.
All of them.
They twitched.
The pile beneath the guillotine shifted like something exhaling after centuries. Then came the rattle.
Subtle at first.
Then louder.
Bones scraping against stone. Hundreds. Thousands. A rising storm of death.
Screams.
One girl stumbled back as a skeleton dragged itself forward, half-shattered ribs clacking with each jerky movement. Its hollow eyes locked onto her.
Closer. Closer.
"Move!" Adam shouted, stepping forward with confidence. He raised his hand, muttered an incantation, and blasted the skeleton with a bright pulse of fire.
Bones scattered.
"See?" he smirked. "just with rank 1 sp...."
Then the bones pulled back together.
The skeleton stood again.
Behind it, more were rising. Limbs snapping into sockets. Skulls twisting on necks. Weapons drawn from the dust as if the grave remembered their purpose.
Adam's smile died.
"Oh no…" he breathed.
From the altar, the headless being remained still—but its shadow stretched.
Then the skeleton lunged.
"RUN!" he roared, his voice cracking as he turned on his heel.
Panic detonated.
Screams erupted in all directions.
"Get away from it!"
"They're everywhere—gods, they're everywhere!"
"Don't look back, just GO!"
Yue's voice cut through the rising panic.
"It's begun."
Kael turned to her, his grip tightening on Dreamweaver. His voice was tense, low.
"Yue, what is happening? Please. Just tell me."
She looked at him—truly looked—and for a moment, Kael saw something behind her eyes.
A weight, ancient and bitter.
She sighed. "This is what I've pieced together… from the murals, the carvings—this entire place."
Her gaze drifted to the blackened altar and the looming guillotine.
"A long time ago, this temple belonged to a dark god. One worshipped by a noble bloodline—the Morvains. Powerful, proud. And deeply devoted."
Kael stayed silent. The other students in the hall were still trying to keep the skeletons at bay, torchlight trembling with every breath.
"One day," Yue continued, "a priest of this temple found a scroll. Old magic. Forbidden. It detailed the creation of a Rank 8 spell."
Kael's breath hitched. "A Rank 8?"
She nodded grimly.
"But the price was steep—108 sacrifices. All of Morvain blood. All within a single eclipse night."
Kael felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"The priest, mad with ambition, summoned every priest and priestess for a 'celebration.' And when night fell—he started the slaughter."
Her voice lowered, reverent and cold.
"One by one, he killed them. Blood soaked the stone. Screams echoed through the chamber. And when he was done… "
Yue continued, her voice barely above a whisper,
"He counted… and the number was wrong."
Kael listened, unmoving.
"He had killed… 107."
Yue's voice dropped to a hush.
"And in that moment, standing ankle-deep in blood and ash, he realized—one had escaped. One."
"The ritual demanded 108 of Morvain blood. The scroll was clear."
"Once begun… it must be completed."
Her eyes narrowed, and Kael felt his chest tighten.
"Or it becomes something worse than death."
Kael felt the cold settle deep in his bones.
Kael's mouth went dry. "So what did he do?"
She looked toward the guillotine, where the headless figure stood silent and still, blade in one hand, his own severed head in the other—mask still fixed in an eternal scream.
"So," she whispered,
"He offered himself. Made himself the final offering. The 108th."