The scythe pulsed once in my hands before I let it go.
Not dropped—dismissed.
It dissolved the way it had formed: quiet, seamless, like smoke folding into air.
Miyako stood nearby, her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.
We didn't speak right away. No need.
Then, finally—
"It's almost time," she said. "Second floor won't wait forever."
I exhaled, tension slipping off my shoulders like it had been waiting for permission.
"Figured as much."
There was no fanfare. No signal. Just that slow pressure tightening the air.
A hesitant shuffle behind us.
"…I, uh… I'm supposed to go too, right?"
Kade's voice cracked a little, like he already regretted asking.
I turned to look at him.
He was trying to hide it—shoulders up, jaw set—but his hands gave him away.
Tense. Shaking slightly.
Like he wasn't sure if he could even stand when the time came.
I stepped closer, rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "You are."
He didn't flinch. But he didn't nod either. Just stared at the ground, waiting for something to make it easier.
"I know what fear feels like, Kade," I continued. "Real fear. The kind that doesn't come from monsters or magic. The kind you wake up to."
I could feel Miyako's eyes on me now. Still. Silent.
"When I was a child, I used to count the floorboards between my room and the hallway," I said.
"Every night. Because I needed to know how many steps it would take before he got to my door."
Kade looked up at me, confused at first. Then he realized.
"My father used to beat me until I'd forget what day it was. Not out of anger. Not because he was drunk. Just because he could."
I saw the shift in Kade's face—like the floor had tilted under him.
"Fear taught me how to read footsteps. How to breathe shallow so the bruises didn't ache as much. How to disappear in a room I was still standing in."
Miyako didn't speak. But something about her posture changed. Tighter.
There was a flicker in her eyes—not pity. Not even sympathy.
Just pain, sitting in silence.
"So trust me," I said, squeezing Kade's shoulder, "if I can walk into hell again and again with that kind of history clinging to my back—then you can take a step with us."
Kade didn't speak right away.
He just stood there, taking it in—like my words had rearranged something inside him. Something important.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
His shoulders straightened. Not by much. But enough.
I gave him a sharp, approving look. No smile. Just resolve.
"Good. This place only respects the ones who move forward."
I turned toward the door without another word.
Behind me, I heard the quiet footsteps—Kade and Miyako falling into step.
"Let's find out what the Plateau thinks we're worth."
——
I led the way through the grass, the air sharp in my lungs.
Kade and Miyako followed behind—quiet, focused, each carrying the weight of their own thoughts.
We reached the clearing near the center of the plateau—the same place where silence felt like a challenge.
I stepped forward alone.
I reached for it again.
The scythe answered—pulling itself from memory into matter, humming with intent.
Like it wanted blood.
It wasn't a blade you swung—it was a weight you guided, a storm you pointed in the right direction and hoped it didn't turn on you.
I moved through the clearing, body low, strikes fast. The arc of the weapon blurred with each twist of my torso, each pivot of my heel.
Wide, brutal motions that cut the wind and set the branches trembling.
There was no elegance to it. Not really.
It was violence dressed in rhythm.
Each slash came close to overextending.
Each reversal skirted the edge of control. But that was the point. The style I was building—if you could even call it that—was meant to end fights, not win them politely.
I pivoted again, dragging the blade in a tight circle around me before snapping it upward in a vertical swing that cracked the air.
Air stalled inside me. My pulse spiked.
The scythe came to a halt behind my shoulder, humming with aftershock.
This wasn't practice.
This was survival, stylized.
And soon, it wouldn't be just me relying on it.
After a few repetitions,
I lowered the scythe slowly, breath shallow, arms aching with motion that bordered on violence. But I didn't stop. Not yet.
I moved through another set—slower this time. More controlled. Letting the weapon guide me as much as I guided it.
Behind me, I heard the sound of paper shifting.
Kade had settled cross-legged near the edge of the clearing, his grimoire spread open in his lap. He muttered softly under his breath, lips moving with half-shaped syllables, eyes locked to the page like it might start glowing if he looked hard enough.
It didn't glow.
But he did.
Just barely. A quiet shimmer began to ripple from the Plateau itself. Like it was acknowledging him for the first time.
Then—his eyes.
They lit a deep cobalt blue.
Not flames, but depth. A color that didn't shine—it spoke. Of cold intellect and ancient things whispering beneath the skin of the world. His breath caught.
{Verse I –Glyphborne…
Let silence shape the tongue.
Let symbols bleed from thought.
Inscribe the air with your will—
and let the world obey.
Where lines converge, power waits.
Where intent speaks, creation kneels.}
Suddenly, a magic circle bloomed around him.
No bang. No flare. Just inevitability.
Runes curled outward from his feet—threads of light etched into the bones of language.
They pulsed once. Then held.
The air bent.
Chains then rose upward—ten of them. Spell-forged. Sleek.
Ten in total—long, liquid arcs of spell-born force, shaped like steel but humming with arcane intent.
Their surfaces shimmered, laced with threads of magic that pulsed like veins of starlight. Each tip ended in a spearpoint—too precise to be metal, too sharp to be real.
They coiled upward as if unbound from gravity, swaying like vipers awaiting command.
Miyako let out a low whistle from the edge of the clearing.
"Well, look at you," she said, voice laced with mock awe. "One whole spell and you haven't exploded yet."
Kade didn't respond.
At least not verbally.
In an instant all ten chains snapped toward her in a blink—the tip of the spears stopping just short of her, hovering in the air like question marks carved out of tension.
Kade stood, eyes glowing, his voice calm yet there was a slight hint of satisfaction.
"Is this better?"
Miyako didn't flinch. Just blinked once, eyes flicking to the nearest chain hovering a few inches from her nose.
Then she raised an eyebrow.
"Well," she said dryly, "at least you're learning boundaries."
She reached up—and with one casual tap of her finger, the spear-tip cracked like glass.
The entire chain snapped with a sound like shattering crystal and vanished in a ripple of fading light.
Kade froze.
"…Wait, what—?"
Miyako smirked. "Your magic's coming along. Not bad for a beginner."
He looked at the spot where the chain had hovered.
Then at her.
Then back.
He cleared his throat, trying to salvage what was left of his pride.
"…Just a demonstration."
Miyako turned, already walking away. "Next time try flowers. Less murder-y."
A moment after,
Kade let the remaining chains dissolve, one by one, their light bleeding gently into the air. The runes beneath him faded last—lines of power vanishing like footprints in wind-swept sand.
I glanced at him, then at Miyako.
She gave a short nod, expression unreadable—
but there was something in her posture that hadn't been there before.
Approval. Maybe even trust.
"Alright," she said.
"That's enough warm-up."
No one argued.
We turned together, moving in unspoken sync—through the grass, past the wind-swept stones
and gnarled trees. The Plateau watched, but it didn't follow. It just… waited.
Ahead, the courtyard rose into view—stone worn smooth by time and memory. And at its center, the altar waited.
Low. Simple. Silent.
But not empty.
A faint glow hummed from within the cracks of the stone, veins of dim light tracing the shape of something ancient and restless beneath its surface.
The second floor was listening.
And it was time to answer.
Miyako stepped forward without a word.
Her hand rose, slow and deliberate—fingers outstretched like she was reaching for a thread only she could see.
The air responded before she touched anything. It pulled taut. Hummed with pressure.
Then it tore.
A seam split the world open.
Same as before—an impossible hue that defied definition, more void than color. Reality peeled back like torn cloth, edges fraying in that unnatural ripple, space folding in on itself until the rift yawned wide.
Miyako turned to face us, the glow of the rift haloing her in unnatural light.
Her gaze locked onto mine.
"This one's going to be worse," she said plainly. "The Plateau doesn't do repeats. It adapts. It escalates."
Then she glanced at Kade.
"Especially now that we've added a new variable."
Kade shifted under her stare.
"The floors react to you. Your power. Your intent. Your numbers. So expect it to hit harder. Twist sharper. Hurt more."
She let that hang.
"Whatever's waiting down there—it already knows you're coming."
Kade stood at the edge of the courtyard, staring into the rift as if it was daring him to move or like it was sizing him up, waiting to see who blinked first.
He swallowed hard.
"…No pressure, right?" he muttered, trying for humor but landing somewhere closer to dread.
Then he squared his shoulders, jaw tightening. The glow in his eyes had faded, but something steadier remained in its place.
"I'm ready," he said. "I mean—I have to be."
I stepped up beside him, calm, composed. My voice was low, but it carried—like the Plateau itself might be listening.
"We're not going down there to survive," I said. "We're going down to prove we deserve to."
I glanced once at Kade, then Miyako.
"Let's move."
—-
I stepped through the rift.
The world bent around me—pulled, folded, then snapped. Light fell away, sound flattened to a hum, and for a moment there was only pressure. Then I landed, steps striking stone.
Dark.
Not pitch-black, but dim—lit by a faint, flickering glow bleeding from cracks in the ceiling above. Cold air rushed past me, heavy with the scent of metal and damp stone.
A dungeon.
I barely had time to register it before a blur moved at the edge of my vision. Fast. Sharp.
I spun, scythe already in hand—and met claws with steel.
The force of the hit skidded me backward across the stone. I planted my heel, dragged the blade low in a defensive arc as the thing lunged again—tall, lean, vicious.
At least three meters high, humanoid in shape, but barely. Its limbs were too long. Arms ending in blade-thin claws that looked built to sever, not grab. Muscles strung taut beneath gray skin. Its mouth split into a ragged grin of serrated teeth.
Another lunge.
Another clash.
The dungeon floor rumbled with each strike.
And not a moment later—
Kade stumbled through the rift behind me, breath caught in his throat.
He barely had a second to take it all in.
Me locked in a blur of movement. The creature looming like a nightmare in motion.
Stone hallways branching behind us like veins. And that pressure—the Plateau's judgment—already coiling tight around our necks.
He froze.
Then he heard it.
Not from in front of him—but behind.
A scrape. Slow. Deliberate.
Stone shifting beneath clawed feet.
Kade turned, breath caught high in his throat. Another one. Just like the first—same sickly gray skin, same unnatural length to its limbs. It stalked forward from the shadows,
ducking beneath a crumbling archway like it had all the time in the world.
Yellow eyes locked on him, unblinking. Unrushed.
Hunting.
Kade didn't move. Couldn't.
Fear rooted him.
The creature stepped closer. Each step echoed like a countdown.
The air seemed to thicken, pressure folding in from every angle—the Plateau was watching him, weighing him, asking a single question:
What will you do?
Behind him, I slammed into the first beast again—steel clashing against claw in a burst of sound that cracked the air.
Sparks burst off the impact. My scythe hissed through the dark like it was hunting something it hated—but the creature didn't slow.
Neither did I.
Every strike landed hard, but not clean.
Every swing was met with resistance—bone, sinew, motion too fast to read. I pivoted, barely dodging a raking swipe that would've opened my ribs to the spine.
I was fighting a knife with a heartbeat.
Sharp. Fast. Intent on cutting me apart.
I planted my foot, drove the haft of the scythe into its torso, forced space between us—but it didn't stagger. It just grinned, rows of teeth twitching like it enjoyed the pain.
I gritted my teeth and reset my stance.
This wasn't a fight I could win in seconds.
This was going to take everything I had.
Kade still hadn't moved.
His feet were rooted to the stone, breath shallow, eyes wide—just a pale boy standing in the mouth of hell, watching death unfold on both sides.
And death was getting closer.
The second creature didn't lunge. It walked. Slow. Deliberate. Like it knew Kade wouldn't run.
Its claws scraped faint lines into the stone walls as it closed in, one step at a time.
I saw it.
Even through the chaos in front of me—claws, sparks, air splitting under my swings—I saw it.
"Kade!" I shouted, ducking under a swipe and arcing my scythe upward, catching this grinning bastard in the chest, but it didn't slow.
Another lunge—I barely turned it aside.
"If you want to live—move!" I snarled, parrying again, sparks flying as claw met steel.
The creature roared. I shoved back with everything I had.
"If you want to make it out of here alive—do something now!"
A claw scraped past my cheek, close enough to sting.
"Because if you don't—that thing's going to tear you apart!"
The words hit Kade like a blade to the chest.
His breath caught.
Then something changed.
The fear didn't vanish—but it bent. Hardened. Became something sharp.
Light sparked at his feet. At first, only a flicker—then it bloomed wide, radiant and alive. Lines spun outward, weaving a circle of glowing script…symbols clicking into place like a lock turning. Magic. Ancient and alive.
Ten chains erupted from the circle—each one of spell-forged light, sleek and sharp, spearheads already angled toward the creature stalking closer.
The monster paused. Just slightly.
Bad move.
His eyes glowing cobalt once more. Voice quiet. Controlled.
"Back off."
The chains fired like lightning.
lunging through the air like predators.
The creature moved like it had seen it all before.
It ducked one, twisted past two more, claws flashing in precise, impossible angles. Every chain was dodged, deflected, parried. The air snapped
with magic and motion, but nothing landed.
Not one hit.
In less than a few seconds, it was through—rushing Kade with all the elegance of a blade drawn in rage.
Too fast.
But Kade didn't move.
Didn't need to.
The creature was already inside the trap.
Its head tilted—just slightly—as if it sensed it.
Then it looked up.
Too late.
Another circle had bloomed above it, silent and perfect—etched into the ceiling like divine geometry.
Twelve new chains erupted from its heart.
They didn't wrap—they impaled.
The spear tipped chains punched through the creature's limbs, chest, even its jaw—driving the beast down into the stone floor with such force the stone tiles cracked beneath the weight. Magic flared, the chains anchoring like divine nails.
The beast writhed once, a scream gurgling out of its ruined throat.
Then it stopped moving.
Kade stood still, hand extended, breath coming hard—but steady.
His eyes dimmed, but didn't fade.
He'd done it.
But the Plateau doesn't care who wins. Only who bleeds next.
It waits until your guard drops—then it sends more teeth.
Kade turned, still catching his breath, the burn of magic cooling beneath his skin. He started moving towards Averic —just a few steps.
Behind him, the shadows shifted enough for the Plateau to smile.
And that's when it moved.
Not from above.
Not from in front.
From the corridor he'd already passed.
A blur—not seen, just felt. It slipped between thought and instinct.
Too fast to scream.
Too fast to dodge.
Claws, long and gleaming, pierced clean through Kade's side—
lifting him off the ground in one brutal motion.
His body arched with the impact, a strangled choke ripping from his throat—cut off halfway as blood surged up and stole the sound.
The creature stood tall behind him—Another one. Taller. Grinning.
It's arm still impaled through Kade's side—like it was forged to end promises.
"Kade!" I roared.
My voice didn't echo.
It ripped through the dungeon like a war cry.