The roar hit the hall like a shockwave—deep, guttural, and powerful enough to shake dust from the vaulted ceiling. Lira stumbled back as cracks spider-webbed across the stone beneath their feet.
Arin turned toward the sealed entrance. "It broke through the passage… already?"
Lira's breath trembled. "That wasn't just the Watcher."
He knew she was right.
The Watcher did not roar.
It whispered.
It stalked.
It observed.
Whatever had screamed—a monster, a guardian, or something worse—had no intention of watching.
It wanted blood.
Another impact slammed into the sealed wall. The statues rattled violently, and the runes across the chamber flickered like dying lanterns.
Arin stepped in front of Lira, raising the Obsidian Vein.
The shard pulsed in response—brighter than before, like it sensed the incoming threat. The hum turned sharper, denser, pushing against Arin's ribs.
"Arin…" Lira whispered, "the statues… look."
He turned just in time to see dust falling off the nearest knight—its head tilted slightly, as if following the noise beyond the wall.
Not alive.
But listening.
"Stay behind me," Arin said.
The wall exploded inward.
Stone shards flew like shrapnel. A massive force barreled through, smashing into the floor and dragging deep trenches into the tiles. Arin shielded Lira with his arm as debris rained around them.
When the dust settled, the new threat revealed itself.
A hulking beast—twice the size of any creature they'd seen in the ruins—crawled forward on four obsidian-black limbs. Its hide shimmered like liquid stone, and its jaws were lined with teeth that curved backward like hooks.
But its eyes…
The eyes were wrong.
Each one glowed with the same pale light as the Watcher.
Lira gasped. "That's not a monster…"
"No," Arin whispered.
"It's infected."
Behind the beast, the Watcher stepped through the shattered wall, its slitted eyes fixed on Arin like a predator that had finally cornered its prey. Its limbs elongated, fingers sharpening into clawed tendrils that scraped the floor with a sound that made Lira flinch.
The Beast lurched forward.
The Watcher followed.
They moved in perfect sync.
A hunt.
Or a sentence.
Arin raised the shard, and its pulse suddenly aligned with his heartbeat—fast, sharp, desperate.
"Lira," he murmured, "run when I say."
Her voice shook. "I'm not leaving you!"
The infected Beast slammed its body into the hall with a roar, its claws tearing through stone. Arin dodged, pulling Lira with him as the creature's strike crushed the spot where they'd been standing a heartbeat earlier.
The ground split open from the force.
The Watcher glided forward, silent and deadly, its claws stretching toward Arin's throat.
The shard reacted.
Dark light erupted from Arin's hand—violent, uncontrolled—blasting outward in a shockwave that threw both creatures back several meters. The statues trembled from the energy, some cracking, others shifting position entirely.
Lira stared at Arin, stunned. "What was that?!"
"I… don't know," he said breathlessly. "But it won't happen again. I can't control it."
The Beast recovered first.
Its roar shook the hall.
Followed by—
click. click. click.
The Watcher's claws tapped rhythmically on the floor as its body twisted unnaturally, preparing to strike again.
They were done waiting.
The hunt was about to begin.
Arin grabbed Lira's hand and pulled her toward the stairway leading down into the throne chamber.
"We go," he said sharply.
"What about the creatures?!"
Arin looked over his shoulder.
The Beast lunged.
The Watcher followed.
The statues leaned toward the conflict like an audience awakening after centuries of silence.
Arin felt the shard burn in his hand, a warning—or a command.
"Down," he said. "Now."
They sprinted toward the spiral staircase.
The Beast roared.
The Watcher screamed.
And the Hunt for the Fallen One officially began.