The corridor became a storm.
Not behind them.
Around them.
Because the moment Draven moved, the entire passage came alive.
Magic circles bloomed across the stone like a spreading infection.
Walls.
Floor.
Ceiling.
Each one pulsed brighter than the last.
Then—
**BOOM.**
A blast tore through the exact spot Draven had occupied a heartbeat earlier.
But he was already gone.
A blur.
Chains snapped behind him like steel whips as he used them to pull, pivot, and redirect his momentum.
One foot struck the wall.
Then the ceiling.
Then stone again.
He didn't run through the corridor.
He ran with it.
Using every angle.
Every opening.
Every breath of space.
Ahead, Lucien's group was already nearing the end.
The corridor widened slightly in the distance, revealing a final threshold.
Freedom.
Lucien glanced back once.
His breath caught.
Because behind them, the walls were glowing.
All of them.
Every inch.
"…MOVE!" he shouted.
Tharic didn't need to be told twice.
The others were already sprinting.
No one held back.
No one hesitated.
Their feet slammed against the stone as they pushed harder.
Harder.
The exit was right there.
Just ahead.
Just—
The corridor behind them detonated.
A chain reaction.
Explosions ripped forward in sequence like a beast swallowing the path whole.
**BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.**
The force slammed into their backs, hot and violent.
Lucien gritted his teeth and pushed harder.
Tharic stumbled, then caught himself at the last possible moment.
The others lunged forward.
One by one, they threw themselves out.
Lucien hit the ground first, rolling hard across the stone beyond the corridor.
Tharic crashed beside him, gasping for air.
The others tumbled after them.
They didn't stop.
They didn't breathe.
They turned instantly.
Because the corridor behind them was collapsing into light.
A tunnel of fire and mana.
And Draven was still inside.
Lucien's eyes widened.
"…Sir—!"
Then a shadow broke through the light.
Fast.
Silent.
Draven slipped out of the corridor just as the final wave of magic detonated behind him.
**BOOOOOOM.**
The entrance collapsed inward.
Stone cracked violently.
Dust erupted outward in a choking wave.
The shockwave rolled past them.
Then, silence.
Heavy.
Sudden.
Dust drifted slowly through the air.
Lucien stared, still breathing hard, still trying to process what he had just witnessed.
Tharic looked worse. He seemed half-dead from fear alone.
"…That was…" he whispered.
"…What the hell was that…"
Draven didn't answer.
He stepped forward out of the settling dust.
Untouched.
Not a scratch on him.
Not even breathing harder.
As if sprinting through a corridor designed to kill him meant nothing at all.
His crimson eyes swept over the four of them once. Cold. Assessing. Confirming.
All alive.
Good enough.
Then he looked ahead.
Another chamber stretched beyond. Larger. Darker. Waiting.
And from somewhere above, the voice returned.
Amused. Interested.
"…Impressive."
A pause.
The words lingered, deliberate and clear.
Draven didn't look up.
No one had time to breathe. Not properly.
Because the moment they began to rise, still catching their breath and shaking off the shock of the corridor, the voice returned again.
"But…"
Soft.
Mocking.
Almost entertained.
"…You really shouldn't relax so soon."
Silence fell.
Then the darkness ahead shifted.
Subtle at first.
A flicker.
Crimson.
Draven's eyes narrowed instantly.
A flash of realization passed through him, too fast for the others to interpret.
His body moved before thought.
His hand shot out, grabbing Lucien by the collar and yanking him sideways with brutal force.
Lucien barely had time to gasp.
"…Wh—?!"
**BOOOOOOM.**
A massive blade tore through the darkness.
Not swung.
Launched.
Like a guillotine fired by a monster.
It carved through the exact space where they had been standing, stone erupting beneath the impact.
The shockwave blasted dust and shattered rock outward in a violent surge.
One of the two recruits didn't even get the chance to scream.
The blade struck him directly.
His body was split, crushed, obliterated instantly under the sheer force.
Blood sprayed across the floor and walls.
Chunks of stone and flesh scattered across the chamber.
The second recruit stumbled back with a strangled cry, face draining of all color.
Tharic was not as lucky.
The blade missed him by inches.
Close enough for the pressure alone to hit him.
It clipped his shoulder and sent him tumbling violently across the floor.
He struck the stone, rolling hard.
Gasping.
Eyes wide.
Breath ragged.
Lucien hit the ground beside Draven, still disoriented.
Then he saw it.
And froze.
Because ahead, in the darkness, something stepped forward.
Heavy.
Slow.
Each footstep made the floor tremble faintly.
Steam hissed from the shadows.
Then it emerged.
Massive.
Towering over them all.
A hulking orc.
Its body was a wall of brutal muscle and scarred green-grey flesh, corded with strength that looked less natural and more forged through endless slaughter.
Its shoulders were so broad they nearly scraped both sides of the corridor.
Its arms were thick as tree trunks, veins bulging beneath skin marred by cuts, burns, and old battle scars.
In one hand, it held the blade.
A monstrous cleaver of dark crimson metal, longer than a man was tall.
Its edge gleamed wetly in the dim light.
Its tusked mouth hung slightly open, steam rolling from between jagged yellow fangs with every slow breath.
Its eyes burned red.
Animal.
Hungry.
The surviving recruit whispered, broken.
"…What… is that…"
Tharic, still on the ground, trembled violently.
"…No…"
His voice cracked.
"…No… no… no…"
Lucien's jaw tightened as his heart slammed against his ribs.
Every instinct screamed at him.
Run.
But there was nowhere to run.
The corridor behind them was sealed.
Ahead, this thing blocked the only path.
The orc slowly dragged its cleaver upward, metal scraping against stone.
A long, grating sound.
Like death itself being sharpened.
The voice above sounded again.
Amused.
Delighted.
"…Meet your warden."
A pause.
"…Survive."
Silence.
Then the orc took one step forward.
The chamber shook.