Free Web NovelChapter 22: The Whispers of Amazias
The panic was immediate, like an icy wave that swept through the group.
Gabriel had to silence his mind for a second. He had faced extreme difficulties in the streets and the darkest alleys of the game... This time wasn’t so different.
Holding his breath, he directed a coldly analytical gaze toward the strategic positions of each remaining member.
The sky-blue drops hung threateningly from the vaulted ceiling, swaying like ripe, poisonous fruits.
They fell seemingly at random, but every impact caused an explosion that splattered organic fragments.
The situation was serious, but not hopeless. Until he saw strange black wines emerging from the walls, guided by an invisible mind.
They twisted with primitive intelligence, trying to obstruct the group’s movement and drag down the slowest members.
At that moment, the leader acted. He drew from his cloak a gleaming silver blade covered in complex inscriptions.
For a second, both the weapon and the man moved with inhuman speed. Six successive slashes rang through the air, clean and precise, severing the roots that tried to reach them.
Black pieces fell to the ground, writhing like dying snakes.
"Quickly, split into two groups of four! Right wing and left wing. Cover the blind spots. I’ll clear the front. We advance or we die here!" he ordered in a firm voice that allowed no argument.
The members obeyed instantly. Their lives depended on that decision.
Gabriel joined the left wing with three others. He was surrounded by a close-combat fighter and two wand-wielding mages.
For the first time, he drew the one-handed axe he kept hidden, feeling its familiar weight.
In his left hand, he gripped his curved dagger.
At that precise moment, an ancient whisper resonated in his mind, deep and possessive:
Live to tell the tale. Live to kill. Live to command.
Gabriel had no time to question it. He focused on cutting and dodging.
The sky-blue drops continued to fall. Each explosion lit up the hall with a deadly flash.
Gabriel cut roots with his axe while using the dagger to defend against those trying to entangle his legs.
The advance was painfully slow. The leader, in the center, moved like a deadly dancer. His silver blade flashed with every turn, cutting through dozens of roots.
Suddenly, a louder explosion sounded on the right wing.
A muffled scream, a dull thud.
Another member had died. The vines had held him in place long enough for a drop to fall on his shoulder.
His companions cursed through gritted teeth, but they didn’t stop. Moving forward was the only option.
Fatigue was building. The mages tried to cast spells, but the chants took too long in such a chaotic environment.
Their wands glowed weakly before the roots interrupted them.
Their progress was due mainly to Gabriel and, above all, the leader.
Gabriel fought with street-honed agility and instinctive precision, while the leader seemed like a force of nature.
A drop fell dangerously close to the left wing group.
"Get back!" Gabriel shouted.
He rolled across the floor just in time. The explosion splattered him and burned part of his arm.
When the group of four was forced apart by the blast, a sharp vine surged from one side and pierced the chest of one of the mages with a horrible wet sound.
The roots swelled, rapidly absorbing blood and vital energy while the man convulsed.
In that moment of shock, Gabriel heard another whisper, clearer and hungrier:
Absorb.
He felt a pull inside him. Part of the dying mage’s blood energy flowed toward him like a warm thread.
He recovered slightly.
Without wasting time, he swallowed one of his cheap health pills. The effect was minimal, but enough to keep going.
They continued advancing. The hall seemed endless.
The roots spread and the drops never stopped.
During a fatal lapse—caused when the leader turned his attention to the right wing to save them, two thick vines grabbed Gabriel’s left foot and left arm, immobilizing him with brutal force.
In that instant, he was exposed.
A small sky-blue drop detached itself and fell straight toward his head. His instincts screamed.
With a desperate effort, he hurled his one-handed axe upward.
The weapon spun through the air and struck the drop midway. The explosion went off above him, showering him with painful fragments.
His two remaining companions immediately rescued him, cutting the vines with sword and knife. Gabriel fell to his knees for a second, panting.
That moment repeated obsessively in his mind.
But, fortunately, that was the end of the trial.
They left the Hanging Garden with three fresh corpses behind them.
Of the group that had entered Round 2, only seven living members remained. They stopped in an adjacent chamber, breathing heavily.
They tried to recover by drinking potions and herbal pills. Some cultists sobbed silently beneath their masks.
This was not the glorious ascension they had imagined, but they clung fiercely to life.
The rest was short. The atmosphere of the Door pulsed with perceptible changes.
Gabriel saw his interface update with bloody letters:
[Final Round: The Guardians’ Trial]
They found themselves surrounded by enormous statues of ancient knights and warriors, arranged in a circle like silent judges. The setting was a vast ruined coliseum.
The objective was clear: survive. Their enemies would be the Shadow Guardians.
All the remaining members tensed. This trial was direct, prolonged close-quarters combat.
The enemies emerged from the shadows of the statues. They were faceless creatures wearing armor from different forgotten military orders.
Heavy shields, broad swords, spears, and axes. They possessed great endurance and brute strength, moving with primal coordination.
The battle erupted.
The leader did most of the work. With precise strikes, clean cuts, and superhuman agility, he eliminated wave after wave. His silver blade left luminous trails as it sliced through armor like paper.
The sole surviving mage chanted nonstop, launching fireballs and columns of flame that incinerated the guardians.
Gabriel was the second to stand out. Using his familiar pair of daggers, he moved with precision and vampiric lightness.
He entered a combat frenzy where his thoughts became pure instinct. An elegant but sadistic voice resonated in his mind, guiding him with clear, ordered instructions:
Calculate and strike.
Observe how it moves.
Find its weaknesses.
Annihilate them. free𝑤ebnovel.com
It was the voice of Amazias Von Tepes.
Gabriel followed the instructions as if they were his own.
He dodged, stabbed joints, severed tendons, and finished with brutal precision. Each kill made him faster, more efficient.
The waves of guardians did not stop. The ground became covered with faceless bodies, armor, and discarded weapons.
Time seemed frozen.
Twice they were nearly overwhelmed, but the leader and Gabriel formed a core that held the line. freeweɓnøvel.com
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last wave fell.
The bodies of the Shadow Guardians piled up in absurd numbers around them. Surprisingly, there were no losses.
All six survivors were still standing, exhausted but alive. Mainly thanks to the leader’s overwhelming skill and, to a great extent, Gabriel’s lethal frenzy.
A gigantic gate nearly 18 meters tall opened with a deep rumble before them. Beyond it waited a colossal chamber.
It was not another round. It was the end of the Door.
In the center rose a giant statue of an indescribable being, worshipped by a multitude of winged creatures frozen in time as sculptures.
Ancient, vibrant paintings adorned the circular walls, depicting life and death. The air was thick with dense, almost tangible power.
Gabriel felt a deep shiver. This was what the Order sought.
The center of their relentless search. The place where they would drink the truth.
The leader took a step forward, his eclipsed sun mask reflecting the strange light of the chamber.
"We have arrived," he murmured, his voice reverent.
"Now... we will behold what few have seen."
Gabriel tightened his grip on the daggers still in his hands. The cold in his fingers had disappeared, replaced by a dangerous heat.
His eyes remained fixed on that enormous statue.
