The forest remained unnervingly quiet, devoid of any life but their own. They pressed on, their boots the only sound against the carpet of dead leaves beneath the strange, weeping trees. Then, ahead, the dense canopy thinned. Light bled through. They emerged from the trees and halted, a shared intake of breath between one another.
Before them, where the unnatural woods ended, stood a gate. It was immense, forged from black, gleaming metal, its entire surface a mass of intricate, coiling designs. Two figures guarded it, motionless as carved stone. Taller than any man, they were wolf-headed, their large forms encased in polished, dark armour. Gloved hands gripped tall spears, and cold, yellow eyes stared out from beneath shadowed brows, fixing on the newcomers.
Beyond this formidable entrance, a sweep of broad, white steps led upwards. There, a palace clawed at the cavern's dark roof. It was a structure of bone-white walls and rows of unlit, black windows, a fortress fit for a ruler.
They stepped from shadow into the bare space before the gate.
The wolf guards, moments before still as iron, jerked. Their powerful bodies went rigid, the hard gleam in their yellow eyes dimming to an unsettled light. One guard's ears pressed flat against its skull, its dark lips pulling back from its teeth in a silent, nervous show. The haft of the other's spear vibrated faintly in its grasp, a tremor running up its armoured arm. The strong sense of a threat became apparent. Now, only plain animal fear showed in their place.
Senen stepped forward. Though the wolf guards towered over him, they visibly shook as he approached. His presence seemed to unnerve them more than any open aggression. He faced them. "Does Kiichi live here?"
Both wolves gave short, jerky nods. Moisture beaded on their snouts. Senen reached for the gate. A light push, and one of the immense black metal wings swung inward. The Master moved to stand beside him, addressing the guards. A faint smile touched his lips. "We're just here for a visit." Kin, Tiren, and Sye filed in after them.
Senen pushed the great doors open. They stepped inside. A runner of deep crimson carpet flowed before them, cutting a path across a vast, polished floor. The floor itself gleamed with a cool, silvery light – platinum marble, so smooth it reflected the hall's immense height.
Light streamed through huge windows set in the walls, each pane larger than a man. Between them, the walls displayed scenes of strange landscapes and powerful, unknown figures, painted directly onto the stone with vivid detail and skill.
A line of tall, slender vases, perfectly spaced, stood like guards. They flanked a wide staircase that climbed into the shadows far above. The air was still. Their footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet, were the only sounds made in the grand hall.
Senen stopped at the foot of the wide staircase. His head tilted, just slightly. A current, unseen but strong, flowed from the upper reaches of the hall. He looked up into the shadows where the stairs vanished. Then, without a word, he began to climb. The others fell in behind him.
At the top, a single set of doors blocked their path. They were immense, seemingly crafted from solid gold. The polished metal gleamed, worked into intricate designs of sharp-beaked, predatory birds. The sheer richness of it was a bold display of power. As Senen reached for an ornate, bird-shaped handle, a voice sounded. It was smooth, unhurried, with a hint of dark amusement. "Don't be shy. Come in..."
They froze. The invitation clung to their minds and the unseen speaker on the other side had suddenly felt very real. For a long breath, no one moved. Senen glanced at the Master; an understanding passed between them in that brief, wordless exchange. Then, his hand closed firmly on the golden handle. He pulled the heavy door inward.
They swung open into a vast, circular chamber. At its centre, upon a raised dais carved from what looked like polished black obsidian, sat a figure. Slender, draped in flowing silks the colour of dried blood, with long, bone-white hair cascading around a youthful, blue elfin face. Its eyes, however, were ancient and unsettlingly bright, like chips of ice. They fixed on the humans.
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed the Royal's placid features. A delicate eyebrow arched. "Humans," the voice was light, melodious, yet carried an edge of cold steel. "How truly unexpected. But how exactly... where is my pet?"
The Master's voice was level. "Your pet?"
"Indeed." The Royal gestured vaguely towards the entrance they'd just passed. "The rather large, twin-headed dragon. He was meant to be ensuring... privacy."
Tiren stepped forward a fraction, his hand near the pommel of his spear. "We killed it." His tone was blunt, confident.
"Oh?" The single word was drawn out, imbued with a faint, amused curiosity. The Royal leaned back slightly, long fingers tapping once on the obsidian arm of the throne. "A pity. He was quite fond of shiny things. Still," a thoughtful pause, "since you've given me information, perhaps a... reward is in order for such capable individuals." The icy eyes gleamed. "Hmmm. I know." The Royal tilted their head. "Tell me, why do you suppose the creatures in this dungeon grow stronger and more cunning the deeper you go?"
The team remained still, their expressions tight. Only Senen and the Master showed no outward reaction beyond keen attention.
The Royal smiled, a slight, knowing curve of the lips. "You don't know? Ah, but it's quite simple, really." One slender finger, adorned with a single black ring, rose as if illustrating a lecture point. The Royal's heels, peeking from beneath the silks, bounced lightly on the dais. "Their burgeoning intelligence, their very capacity for thought, it all hinges on a single, rather specific thing..."
The Royal's voice dropped, hushed, for the final, damning words. "...Human brains."
The words landed, obscene and sharp. Kin flinched violently, his whole body jerking back as if to escape the sound itself. Sye gasped, a harsh, tearing noise, her knuckles pressing white against her lips. Tiren's jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped along his cheekbone; his features, moments before flushed with anger, now set into a rigid mask of revulsion.
"The nutrients, you see," the Royal continued, voice conversational, almost pleasant, "are unparalleled. They fuel an astonishing evolutionary leap. And through a delightful process of... selective consumption among their own kind, only the strongest, most adaptable specimens retain the lion's share of that consumed intellect."
The Master's gaze remained locked on the Royal, unblinking. Senen, beside him, was a study in focused stillness.
"We, of course, refined the collection method. Sending out lesser beasts, like my unfortunate dragon, to procure the raw materials was merely the first step." The Royal's smile widened, a hint of predatory delight in it now. "But we've since developed a far more efficient way to maximize the... cerebral potency." The air in the chamber seemed to thicken with the unspoken horror. "Once fully processed by a suitable host – digested, and then... excreted – the essence can be distilled into a rather potent elixir. A drink that propels further evolution in any who consume it."
Tiren's control snapped. His face was now a dark red. "Master!" He bit out, voice rough with fury. "I say we end this filth right here, right now!"
The Royal's amusement vanished. The youthful face became a mask of cold and indifferent. A pale hand, moving with deceptive slowness, dipped into the voluminous sleeve of a blood-red robe, while the other reached within the robe's folds. A small, dull black object, no bigger than a pebble, appeared between two fingers. "Die." The word was a whisper. With a flick of the Royal's wrist, the black object shot towards Tiren. It moved like a blur, too fast to track.
Before anyone could shout, before a single muscle could twitch in Tiren's defence, the object met him. There was no sound, no impact. Tiren, still fuelled by his outburst, seemed to stumble. Dark lines, like sudden cracks in porcelain, appeared across his ankles, his hips, his neck. For an instant, nothing else happened. Then, his boots stayed rooted to the marble floor as his legs, neatly severed at the ankles, buckled beneath him. His upper body, sliced clean at the waist, toppled sideways. His head, for a grotesque moment, seemed to float, before it too fell, rolling a short distance, the look of outrage still etched on its features. There had been no sound of impact, no spray of blood, only the soft, final thuds as the pieces of Tiren settled into a dreadful heap. It had all happened in the span of a single, stolen breath.
A raw, wordless cry tore from Kin's throat. For an instant, shock held him rigid; then, his face contorted with pure rage, and his sword rasped from its sheath. Sye stared at the pieces of Tiren, her face ash white. The Master's sharp intake of breath was almost a hiss. "Tch!" His eyes, hard as flints, darted from the fallen Tiren to the impassive Royal. The purple orb was already warm in his pocket. They were devastatingly outmatched. "Legions guild hall! Now!" His command cut through the horror.
As the familiar wrench of teleportation began to claim them. Their final glimpse of the chamber was of Kiichi, standing victorious on the obsidian dais, that slow, almost childlike smile stretching wider across that beautiful, terrible face.
Then, they were gone.
The vast chamber was pristine once more, abruptly silent. Kiichi stood alone. The Royal showed no surprise at their abrupt, all-encompassing departure. Instead, the smile deepened, the icy eyes glittering with a predatory joy. A soft, almost musical hum of contentment escaped those perfectly shaped lips. The cleanup had even been handled for them.
"Humans," Kiichi's voice, still melodic, resonated in the stillness, laced with an almost purring delight. "Such exquisite, fleeting entertainment." A delicate finger tapped against a silken chin. "And so considerate, too." A playful, considering pout. "Oh, I do believe I shall have to make one of them my new pet!"