Kael, exhausted and out of breath, finally used what little strength he had left to stand up with immense difficulty.
His legs were abnormally heavy.
He gritted his teeth, grabbing the walls on both sides, his fingers sinking into the brittle stone.
He first pushed with his arms.
Nothing.
Or almost nothing.
His body trembled, but remained low, as if his own weight refused to obey him.
So he forced himself harder.
His arms, his shoulders, his legs.
His entire body contracted at the same time.
He pushed again, slowly, through a terrible effort, until he felt his muscles vibrating under the pressure.
And that was when…
A dull sound.
Kael let out a cry.
Heavy.
Deep.
Powerful.
Finally…
It had taken him time, but he had truly believed he would remain trapped forever inside this tomb.
Now that he was finally outside…
*What should I do…?*
*Damn it…*
*I can't see anything…*
*I'll have to wait for my eyes to adjust to this darkness…*
…
*Why aren't my fingers moving anymore…?*
*What the…*
Kael slightly forced his hand.
CRACK.
…
*The stone…?*
His fingers were buried inside the wall.
His breath stopped briefly.
*What the…*
He instinctively tried to move one foot.
Nothing.
Or rather—
A weight.
Heavy.
Abnormal.
And that was when he finally realized that his feet had also sunk into the ground.
Kael first tried gently.
He thought that by slightly moving his feet, he might be able to free himself from this hold.
But nothing.
None of his attempts brought even the slightest solution.
Kael clenched his jaw.
His teeth ground together.
The muscles in his legs tightened under the effort.
But still nothing.
And then…
Something cracked inside him.
The screams returned.
Cries straight from hell itself.
They echoed, as if banshees were screaming from every side around him.
They tore through his ears.
Their laments seemed to want to pierce his skull.
They screamed.
Again.
And again.
Waiting for him to give up.
Kael fell to his knees.
Curled up on himself.
His hands gripping his head.
The pain was unbearable.
He begged for it to stop.
A prayer.
No matter who it was addressed to.
To God.
To the Devil.
To an angel.
To a demon.
To anyone.
He would have accepted any help.
Any entity capable of ending this suffering.
But no one came.
And deep down, he already knew no one would come.
So he focused on his breathing.
The pain was still there.
But simply following that breathing allowed him to endure.
To not sink into madness.
With a sharp movement, he punched the ground with his fist.
Then stood back up.
The pain immediately returned.
So he did it again.
Again.
And again.
Without really understanding why.
But in a strange, almost instinctive way, the pain inflicted on his body allowed him to lessen the one tearing through his skull.
...
Morpheas, who had taken the lead, followed by Halmir, left the meeting room and walked through the partially open corridors overlooking the inner courtyard.
He was not in a hurry.
Anxious.
Slightly impatient.
After a while, they arrived in a darker corridor, decorated with two lit torches whose light made their shadows dance across the walls.
Morpheas briefly glanced around.
He noticed a few cracks on the wall, without really paying attention to them, then continued moving forward.
They finally both arrived at the training ground.
This time, the considerable number of cracks on the ground caught his attention.
But a heavy wave could be felt, immediately diverting his focus.
Something must have gone wrong during his awakening.
This aura.
This pressure.
This bloodlust.
They awakened within him the memory of old wounds.
But his curiosity was no longer the problem.
The safety of his people was.
Halmir, on the other hand, was mostly captivated by the sight before him.
But despite his high level, he still had to take measures to resist this aura.
The soldiers, the instructors, the staff…
All of them were on the ground.
Without exception.
Unable to move.
Breathing with difficulty.
Some tried to speak, but no words seemed able to come out.
Only one thing was understandable to Morpheas:
The plea for help visible in their eyes.
They were at their limit.
They couldn't do anything.
Nothing, except wait.
And pray for it to stop.
...
Kael, still curled up, hammered the ground with his fists.
But no injuries appeared.
His skin healed faster than the impacts.
The only evidence left was the traces of blood on his hands.
Blood began flowing from the edges of his eyes and ears.
*I can't take this anymore…*
*Please, make everything stop…*
*Stop this!*
*What did I do?*
*Why are you doing this to me?*
*Please, stop!*
*Why me?*
*Why?*
He was on the verge of breaking.
That was when he felt something.
A presence.
Not close.
But not too far away.
Something familiar.
Almost warm.
He didn't know who, or where.
But he could perceive a direction.
He stood back up, focusing on that hope.
The only one he had left.
Step after step.
Tremor after tremor.
Each foot sank into the stone.
Behind him, only rubble remained.
His hands struck the air.
Searching for a wall.
Something to support himself.
After a few meters, his hands finally touched a stone wall.
He slowly followed it.
Trying to follow this presence.
Praying it wouldn't disappear.
He was terrified.
Every scream.
Every cry.
Tore through his soul.
And it brought back fragments of memories.
He didn't know if they were memories.
Nightmares.
Or hallucinations.
Deformed monsters.
Horrors.
Deceiving demons.
Entities resembling abominations straight out of hell.
But one thing united them all:
They wanted only one thing.
Kael's life.
All of them, without exception.
...
Morpheas looked intensely at the soldiers on the ground.
Worried for his men.
Anxious.
But at the same time unable to suppress his curiosity toward the current situation.
— We need to hurry.
His gaze quickly moved across the soldiers.
— I don't think they'll last much longer. Follow me, if you haven't changed your mind yet.
Morpheas and Halmir quickened their pace.
A few meters further, after a turn, they finally arrived in front of the vault.
An ancient chamber meant for rare artifacts, temporarily arranged to allow Kael's recovery.
But there…
Morpheas stopped.
Silent.
His gaze traveled across the walls, the ground, the slab.
The cracks.
They were everywhere.
Like chaotic roots spreading from a single point.
The vault.
The walls were barely holding together, some parts were already beginning to crumble.
Even the enormous slab sealing the entrance was crossed by a deep crack that almost split it in two.
*What happened here…?*
*Kael…?*
*No.*
*That doesn't make sense.*
*He was supposed to be recovering.*
*Hypnos warned me he could be disoriented when he woke up.*
*Maybe unstable.*
*But he never told me about a possibility like this…*
And at that exact moment—
BOOM.
The cracks violently expanded.
Pieces of stone broke away from the walls of the vault.
A second crack appeared on the already weakened slab.
Morpheas remained still.
Surprised.
He didn't understand.
Where did that tremor come from?
The aura was becoming denser.
Heavier.
But something didn't add up.
He couldn't feel any foreign presence.
No creature.
Nothing that could cause such damage.
He briefly glanced toward Halmir, who also seemed lost.
Then—
BOOM.
Again.
Followed by another.
BOOM.
This time, Morpheas understood.
…
The silence returned.
Complete.
Even the wind seemed to have stopped.
Morpheas remained there.
Anxious.
But still guided by this curiosity he couldn't ignore.
His gaze was fixed on the slab.
On this entrance that seemed seconds away from collapsing.
Behind him, Halmir felt his instinct screaming at him to leave.
He swallowed.
Looked at Morpheas.
Then slowly turned his attention back toward the entrance of the vault.
A few faint creaks echoed.
Small pieces of gravel began falling one by one from the cracks.
Halmir stared intensely at the entrance of the vault.
That was when he noticed something.
The slab sealing the entrance was covered in runes.
But what he noticed most…
was the crack.
The last tremor had created a new fracture that slowly spread across the slab, gradually moving down toward one of the runes.
Halmir hesitated.
He looked at Morpheas.
The timing was probably wrong, but something deep inside him screamed at him to mention it.
So, gathering his courage, he tried to say a few words.
But that was when he realized.
No sound came out of his mouth.
Fear.
He slightly raised his trembling hand and tapped Morpheas on the shoulder.
The latter turned toward him, looking confused.
— What is it?
But Morpheas quickly understood that something was wrong.
He saw Halmir.
Sweating.
Pale.
His eyes trembling.
His finger pointing toward the slab engraved with runes.
And only two words finally managed to leave his mouth.
— Rune…
— Crack…
Morpheas suddenly turned around.
And he instantly understood.
His gaze landed on the slab.
On that crack.
Weak.
Small.
Almost insignificant.
But despite that…
It was only a few millimeters away from touching one of the runes.
A few millimeters before the destruction of the seal still containing the vault.
And at that moment…
Morpheas had a reaction very few people had ever seen throughout his life.
Fear.
Yes.
That primal emotion.
Because he had just understood.
What had pinned his men to the ground until now…
Was only a residue.
A simple leak escaping through the cracks.
The tomb's seal was still holding back the majority of this aura.
This energy that was trying to get out.
And the moment Morpheas wanted to turn around to tell Halmir to run…
The crack reached the rune.
…
The slab exploded.
Pieces flew through the corridor in a deafening crash.
Several fragments passed only a few centimeters away from Morpheas.
Before he could even truly understand what had just happened…
It was already too late.
A surge of aura was released.
A bloodlust.
A torrent contained for far too long.
It spread through every corner.
Every corridor.
Every room.
Halmir remained frozen.
His hair standing on end.
His gaze almost empty.
He no longer knew how to react.
He was petrified.
*What is happening…?*
*Was all of this planned…?*
*Is this normal…?*
But Morpheas couldn't even hear Halmir's voice anymore.
His gaze was fixed straight ahead.
On that cloud of dust now hiding the entrance of the vault.
He could barely make something out.
A silhouette.
Motionless.
And in the middle of that dust…
Two red eyes.
But this bloodlust…
It wasn't targeting anyone.
It wasn't directed toward them.
No.
What Morpheas felt through it…
Wasn't only violence.
It was distress.
And fear.
Yet one thing was certain.
What had just come out of this tomb…
Was not the Kael they were expecting.