We found a relatively quiet corner of the Sanctum Antechamber and claimed a section of polished marble floor against one of the curved walls.

  The chamber's vastness made our little group seem insignificant, like ants beneath the towering dome with its celestial frescoes. We waited as minutes turned into hours and more people filled the area.

  "At least we can catch our breath here," Nebula said, sinking gracefully to the floor and leaning against the wall. Her silver-white hair, mostly hidden under her hood, was matted with dust but didn’t look dirty.

  Lilian remained standing, her posture alert as she scanned the room. "There are a lot of people here. Most look pretty beat up."

  She wasn't wrong. The chamber held a diverse collection of survivors.

  A group of grizzled adventurers huddled near one of the archways, comparing notes and showing off their battle scars. Several Waybound students had formed a protective circle, their academy uniforms torn and dirty, but their eyes bright with the excitement of having made it this far. Mercenaries prowled the edges of the room, sizing up potential threats with practiced eyes.

  "Look over there," Solara sounded excited as she nudged her chin toward a lone student sitting against the wall. "Isn’t that senior Zahra Al-Zahiri? They say she once survived three days in the Ashlands with nothing but a chipped dagger."

  I looked at the dark-skinned woman, a 4th-year student. We’d met before, with Solara, during our very first dungeon exploration under Professor Katheran.

  It seemed people still didn’t know that she was the illegitimate daughter of the Erebian Emperor. I wonder how long it’d take for that to leak in this world.

  Likewise, there were many big names around. I also spotted Selthira Duskbane hiding in the shadows, thanks to my Demonic Sphere. Nobody else seemed to have noticed her.

  I sharpened the focus of my Demonic Sphere, carefully scanning the gathered participants.

  If there were cultists among them—and I was certain there were—they'd be difficult to identify. The Outer God Cult wasn't known for wearing convenient identifying marks.

  "Victor's here," Nebula said quietly, inclining her head toward the far side of the chamber.

  Sure enough, Victor Seraph stood surrounded by his usual entourage, looking remarkably unruffled compared to most participants.

  His uniform was barely wrinkled, unsurprising for someone of the Black Tortoise bloodline. He wore the same smug expression I'd come to despise. Several students orbited him like planets around a sun, hanging on his every word.

  The Crown Prince, the Elven Prince, and many other important people could be seen around us.

  We didn’t get the chance to observe for any longer.

  "Young master," Lilian nudged me, "your friends are coming."

  I turned to see Ha-Yun approaching, her pink eyes lighting up with recognition despite my mask. Alaric and Selene followed close behind, all three looking weary but intact.

  "There you are!" Ha-Yun called out, her voice carrying across the space between us. "We've been looking everywhere for you after you left us in that creepy place. You promised to come back, but what’s this?!"

  Alaric offered his hand in greeting, diplomatic charm never failing even in these circumstances. "Quite the disappearing act, Mister Cheonma. Had us worried for a while there."

  I clasped his hand firmly. "The feeling was mutual, Your Highness."

  Selene hung back slightly, her blue eyes studying me with a penetrating gaze. "Did you find anything else about those creepy writings on the wall, and generally what could have happened?"

  Lilian and Solara exchanged quick glances at our interaction while Nebula remained impassive. "My apologies for the abrupt separation," I said, addressing all three. "The maze's walls shifted unexpectedly. I tried to find you, but the paths kept changing."

  "The dungeon is weird like that, yes," Lilian interjected. "We got lost twice ourselves."

  "Three times, actually," Solara corrected. "Remember that corridor with the floating candles?"

  Nebula snorted softly. "To be fair, we all got turned around there."

  Their banter lightened the mood momentarily, but I couldn't let it distract from the gravity of our situation.

  "As for your question if I found anything… Yes. I'm afraid something dark is unfolding within this maze," I said, my voice dropping lower. "Something that threatens more than just our chances at winning this trial."

  Ha-Yun's expression immediately sobered, recognizing the seriousness in my tone. "What did you find?"

  "It's better if everyone hears this at once," I replied. "Trust me when I say this concerns us all."

  Selene's fingers twitched, pale blue divination magic flickering around them like static electricity. "He's right," she murmured. "There's a shadow hanging over this place that wasn't here before."

  Before anyone could respond, a hush fell over the chamber.

  All conversations died mid-sentence as a column of light materialized in the center of the room, bright enough to cast long shadows across the marble floor.

  The android administrator appeared within the light, her holographic form showing translucent skin laced with metal lining, looming over us. She floated tall and regal, her metallic features catching the light in ways that made her seem almost alive.

  "Greetings, survivors of the Maze of Whispers," her voice resonated throughout the chamber. "You represent the most resourceful, the most determined, and the most fortunate of all who entered. One hundred participants stand before me—exactly as designed."

  She spread her arms wide, her expression serene as she surveyed the gathered participants.

  "The tradition of Nevaramis demands a final challenge before the 2nd Phase truly ends, and we can move onto the 3rd Phase. It’s a battle against the Whispering Overseer, a guardian whose strength scales with the collective power of those who face it. This creation of my makers will test the—"

  “Forgive the interruption," I stepped forward, breaking away from my group. I called out, my voice carrying across the sudden silence, "but there's something more urgent than your trial that demands attention."

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Some participants looked annoyed at the delay, others curious about who would dare interrupt the administrator. I felt Ha-Yun’s eyes on my back along with my girls, supportive but wary.

  The administrator paused, her expression unreadable as she turned toward me. "Speak, participant Cheonma. What could be more pressing than the culmination of these trials?"

  I looked around for a moment and then addressed both the administrator and the gathered participants.

  "There are cultists among us—devotees of an entity they call Xohr'Veskhaa, who seems to be an Outer God according to what I’ve gathered. They've been conducting rituals throughout the maze, sacrificing participants to power a portal that would allow this entity access to our world. I’ve encountered two such portals, and no doubt missed a bunch of others."

  As the words left my lips, the chamber erupted with reactions—gasps of disbelief, muttered curses, nervous laughter. Some participants instinctively backed away from others, suspicion clouding their faces.

  "As you can see from people’s reaction, they too must have encountered suspicious stuff. My companions and I discovered one particular ritual in progress," I continued, raising my voice above the growing chaos. "After killing poor participants, the cultists were willing to sacrifice themselves, jumping into the portal and being vaporized instantly. This is not the behavior of simple treasure-hunters or glory-seekers—this is religious fanaticism."

  I still couldn’t forget the energy's alien nature or the whispers that had reached into my mind.

  "Whatever lies beyond that portal doesn't belong in our world," I concluded. "If it crosses over, I doubt Nevaramis will survive the transition, let alone the rest of us."

  I turned my attention fully to the administrator, meeting her impassive gaze. "This trial needs to be suspended, and you must deal with the infiltrators. We need to locate these cultists and stop their ritual before it's too late."

  The android's holographic form flickered slightly, as if processing this unexpected information.

  The chamber fell silent, all eyes on the administrator as they awaited her response.

  "...It matters not to me who claims Nevaramis," she finally said, her voice neutral, almost indifferent. "Be it a Hero, a Demon King, or Outer God Cultist. As long as a group or person is worthy enough to complete the trials, they can claim it. My creators intended—"

  "I understand that," I cut her off, "but an Outer God is trying to descend into your city. That would certainly destroy the entire place. Did your creators intend that too? For you to watch this precious city’s destruction without doing anything?"

  The administrator fell silent, her expression unreadable.

  The tension in the chamber grew as seconds stretched into a full minute of silence. Participants exchanged nervous glances. Some began whispering among themselves, debating the truth of my claims.

  "This is absurd," Victor's voice cut through the murmurs as he stepped forward. "Part of me says he’s trying to disrupt the trial for his own advantage, but I did encounter weird things in the maze too..."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Yes, let’s think it through," Prince Orion said, "what if he's right? The risk seems too great to ignore."

  The debate spread through the chamber, factions forming based on who believed the warning and who dismissed it. I stood my ground, aware of the skeptical glances thrown my way but equally conscious of those who seemed genuinely concerned.

  Finally, the administrator raised a hand, silencing the growing arguments.

  "...Since things have turned out this way," she said, her voice subtly changed, more serious than before, "the best I can do is speed things up. I apologise, but this is the only compromise I can make within my realm of influence.”

  “What?”

  “There is no need for a boss fight in Phase 2. Phase 2 ends here."

  She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing unnaturally throughout the chamber.

  "Let us begin Phase 3."

  A brilliant light erupted from beneath our feet, the floor transforming into a massive portal of pure energy. Panic spread as participants realized we were about to be transported.

  "Stay close!" I shouted to my companions, reaching for Nebula's hand.

  "What is she doing?!" Nebula's voice was sharp with alarm.

  "Young master, I don't like this!" Lilian pressed against my side, her eyes wide.

  Solara's wings flared instinctively, but I shot her a look to hide them immediately. "Brace yourselves!" I said.

  The light intensified until it was blinding, and the sensation of falling overtook everyone in the chamber. My stomach lurched as reality seemed to fold around us, and then—

  The light faded, revealing an entirely new location—a massive Roman-style colosseum under a brilliant blue sky.

  Participants stumbled, disoriented by the sudden transition. Some fell to their knees, others spun around in confusion.

  I steadied myself, quickly checking that my companions were nearby and unharmed.

  The colosseum stretched around us in a perfect circle, its stone tiers empty of spectators but no less imposing. The architecture was both ancient and impossibly pristine, as if it were built yesterday yet designed millennia ago.

  Above us, floating in the center of the arena, the administrator's form had changed—more solid, more present, her eyes glowing with an intensity not seen before.

  "Welcome participants, to Nevaramis proper," she announced, her voice ringing across the colosseum. "Phase 3 will be a tournament battle among you all."

  The participants looked around in awe and apprehension, realizing we'd finally reached the legendary floating city itself.

  I narrowed my eyes behind my mask, scanning the crowd for any sign of the cultists among them.

  The android administrator must have done this to end the trials as soon as possible, before the cultists finish their preparation.

  But by doing so, had she acted to prevent the Outer God's arrival… or merely accelerated its coming?

  That remained to be seen.

  ****

  Ralian Lunewolf paced the cramped confines of the abandoned Merasca warehouse, the scent of stale dust and Munera Obsidian’s cloying stillness grating on her nerves.

  It was absurd, this alliance.

  A Moon Wolf Matriarch in line, working alongside the current Matriarch of the Obsidian Vampire, their ancient enmity temporarily shelved by a shared, primal fear.

  Motherhood, Ralian thought bitterly, makes the strangest compromises. Seven days they'd been doing this, chasing whispers and shadows while their daughters remained trapped on that cursed floating island.

  Well, the island itself wasn’t cursed, but the situation made it so.

  Munera, sitting unnervingly still on a stack of crates, projected an icy calm that Ralian found unsettling in an annoyed manner. The vampire’s efficiency was undeniable, but her detached expressions contrasted sharply with the fierce, clawing worry that gnawed at Ralian’s gut.

  It was bothersome how well she could manage a facade so calm, even amid all the mess. The first day had been pure chaos in Merasca since just a few hours after the initial mass deportation, a second one followed.

  Although this one had apparently been done by the participants’ own choice. People materialized haphazardly across Merasca, confusion turning to panic as the legendary island remained stubbornly inaccessible, shimmering high above with barriers blocking any new entry.

  Ralian had watched powerful mages, Guild Masters, even a grim-faced representative from the Church of Light, hurl spells against Nevaramis’s invisible barriers, only to have their efforts dissipate uselessly.

  The stark reality settled quickly. Their children were stuck there for the foreseeable future, caught amid something far deadlier than the advertised trials.

  So their investigation of the cult began immediately.

  They secured this derelict warehouse on the city's edge as a base, far from prying eyes. Information gathering fell into an uneasy rhythm.

  Munera, with a pragmatism that bordered on ruthless, utilized a network of informants Ralian hadn't known existed—she first turned humans into vampire thralls, their eyes vacant but their ears sharp in the city's underbelly. Ralian disliked the method, her lips tightening whenever Munera gave orders to her newly sired minions, but necessity trumped distaste. Thralls were a great asset.

  Ralian, meanwhile, relied on her formidable senses, tracking the faint, corrupted tang of unfamiliar magic through crowded market streets. Her nose led her down alleyways where shadows lingered too long.

  Slowly, disturbingly, a picture emerged.

  The Outer God Cult wasn't just on Nevaramis as they’d expected; its tendrils reached deep into Merasca itself. They heard whispers of dockworkers vanishing without a trace, found records of black market vendors selling bizarre ritual components—obsidian dust, preserved organs of unknown creatures, scrolls written in languages that made the eyes water.

  Faint traces of corrupted mana clung to abandoned loading docks and forgotten storerooms, fading signatures of profane rites. Their skills complemented each other disturbingly well.

  Ralian, guided by scent, cornered a terrified, low-level cultist attempting to blend into the midday throng. Later, Munera extracted fragmented details about local meeting points from another informant, her voice a velvet rasp that promised subtle horrors, perhaps backed by a hint of vampiric compulsion. Ralian chose not to examine too closely.

  But the leads were scattered, the information fragmented. Days bled into a week, and Ralian’s frustration mounted, morphing into a cold dread.

  This cult was organized, widespread, and its purpose remained terrifyingly obscure. They had a ritual going on… but for what? Ralian didn’t know.

  Every dead end, every fading trail, amplified her fear for Lilian.

  Trapped on that island, facing fanatics wielding powers beyond comprehension… The thought of her daughter, so young, so fierce, confronting this darkness alone—or worse, relying solely on that strange boy, Iskandaar—made Ralian’s claws ache to rend something apart.

  This threat felt bigger than Nevaramis, bigger than Merasca. It smelled like the beginning of something world-altering, and her daughter was caught in the heart of it.

  Ralian stopped pacing, her blood-red eyes locking onto the vampire across the room. Munera watched her, swirling a glass of dark liquid—wine, Ralian hoped, though with vampires, one could never be certain.

  "This is getting us nowhere fast, Obsidian," Ralian growled, the controlled energy of her werewolf form thrumming just beneath her skin. "We chase shadows while our daughters are trapped with fanatics preparing... who knows what."

  Munera took a slow sip, her expression unreadable. "Patience, Lunewolf. Hasty actions attract unwanted attention. We are exposed here."

  "Patience?!" Ralian slammed her fist against a wooden support beam, the wood groaning under the impact. "My daughter is in there! Yours too! This 'Outer God' sounds like world-ending trouble. We can't handle this alone. We need to do something, but nothing is working.”

  Munera hesitated, swirling the contents of her glass. “There’s something,” she said. We can warn the Academy, Chancellor Duskleaf, and perhaps the Principal, too. If they come, things might be easier to deal with."

  That wasn’t too bad an idea. Currently, Munera and she were the strongest in the city, and neither of them was in the 8th Ascension. So having two 8th Ascensions would help.

  Ralian didn’t mind. But contacting Waybound was a gamble for Munera. It meant revealing their presence, their knowledge, exposing secrets Munera clearly guarded closely. Werewolves weren’t as hated as vampires, and the little they were could be disregarded if she introduced herself as the daughter of the Beast Hero.

  So it all depended on Munera.

  The faint tightening around the vampire’s eyes betrayed a shared fear. "Thing is, as you can guess, contacting Waybound... exposes us both," she conceded, her voice a silken thread. "But Nebula's safety is paramount. Very well. The risk is necessary."

  Munera rose gracefully from the crates, producing a device from within her dark robes. It wasn't metal or crystal, but something organic and unsettling—polished black chitin inlaid with pulsating veins of crimson light. It felt wrong.

  "Katheran," Munera stated, more than asked. "He was present among the students before he, along with the rest of the professors, got deported. He might listen."

  Ralian nodded curtly. Katheran was sharp and powerful. Good choice. Plus his commoner background made him easier to work with non-humans. He didn’t have the prejudice of the nobles.

  Munera placed the artifact on a dusty crate.

  With precise and economical movements, she touched specific points on its surface. A drop of her own blood sizzled as it contacted the chitin, causing the crimson veins to pulse brighter. A low hum filled the warehouse as a holographic interface flickered erratically above the device before stabilizing, displaying complex, swirling patterns. Munera’s fingers danced across the interface, inputting commands Ralian couldn't decipher.

  Finally, the patterns resolved into a familiar, stern face—Professor Katheran, looking very surprised at the unexpected situation.

  “Please don’t be shocked,” Munera said, her voice smooth as ice. “I stole a drop of your blood before. This is important.”

  …..

  Days later, silence descended in the alleyway they were hiding.

  Ralian paced around slowly, the worn cobblestones cool beneath her boots. She clenched and unclenched her fists, the familiar urge to shift, to hunt, rising within her.

  Patience was a virtue she possessed, hard-won over decades, but waiting while Lilian was in danger felt like chewing glass. Munera still showed unnervingly calm as she leaned against the alley wall, eyes closed, although she too was definitely worried.

  The change came subtly.

  A faint tremor vibrated through the soles of Ralian’s boots, too rhythmic to be a simple cart passing on the main street. The air pressure shifted abruptly, making her ears pop.

  Then came the sound—a low, powerful thrumming, almost below the range of hearing, felt deep in her bones. The fading sunlight filtering between the buildings seemed to intensify, taking on an unnatural, molten gold hue.

  Ralian and Munera exchanged a look, moving simultaneously to the mouth of the alley. They peered cautiously toward the sky above Merasca’s rooftops.

  What descended wasn't subtle. It was magnificence made manifest, terrifying in its scale. A dragon, immense and golden, broke through the clouds. Each scale shimmered like a thousand suns, catching the light as colossal wings beat the air with thunderous downbeats that echoed through the suddenly silent city.

  The sheer presence of the creature was overwhelming, a wave of near-divine power washing over Merasca.

  With impossible grace for its size, the golden dragon angled its descent, heading for a large, open plaza near the city center, visible from their vantage point.

  Amelia Duskleaf, Chancellor of Waybound, landed with a controlled impact that nonetheless sent a tremor rattling through the alley walls.

  Dust plumed outwards from the landing site. Even from this distance, Ralian could see the intelligence gleaming in those immense, red eyes as they surveyed the city. Trailing behind the dragon, like jagged forks of captured storm, streaks of lightning followed, grounding themselves near the plaza.

  That caught both Ralian and Munera off guard.

  That old man, with locks of white hair and a beautiful beard, framing his wise, bright eyes, was someone very famous in the Empire.

  The Lightning Duke, ruler of the Waybound City.

  Ralian let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, relief warring with awe. "Looks like Katheran managed to convey the seriousness of the situation."

  Munera tilted her head, a flicker of something unreadable in her crimson eyes as she watched the settling dragon and the dissipating lightning.

  “Hah. Two 8th ascension… I know we basically invited them, but this makes me feel uneasy. Hey,” she turned to Ralian. “What do you say about helping me get to 8th Ascension? I’m a level behind.”

  Ralian glanced at the vampire. There was silence at first, but then a wry, almost incredulous expression crossed her features. “...What a coincidence. Same.”

  There was a lot to prepare for.

  Book 4 just started on Patreon! If you want to read the next 10 chapters, the end of Book 3, the start of Book 3, you can visit my Patreon! Don’t forget to check out our Discord too, where you can hang out with us.

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