The ground trembled beneath Finn’s boots, faint at first—like a warning whispered through stone. Then came the fractures. Hairline cracks that spiderwebbed across the sanctum floor, growing wider with every passing second.

  The air buzzed with static, thick with the sharp tang of ozone. A familiar system prompt blinked in the corner of Finn’s vision.

  Environmental Hazard: Seismic Activity Detected.

  His pulse quickened. “No, no, not here...”

  A low rumble answered him, deep and ancient, like the world itself was waking up angry. Then, the sanctum floor exploded. Stone shards flew like shrapnel, and a thunderous groan echoed through the chamber as the earth split apart.

  Warning: Hostile Entity Emerging.

  From the gaping fissure, it erupted.

  A monster. No—a behemoth.

  Six limbs, the front pair shaped like gleaming scythes, snapped outward with a metallic screech. A mantis, grotesquely magnified, with serrated forearms built for rending steel and an armored exoskeleton that shimmered a sickly green under the sanctum lights.

  Its triangular head tilted unnaturally, multifaceted eyes glowing a murderous red.

  Enemy Identified: Juvenile Crusher (Sub-Boss).

  "What the hell?! This thing’s a sub-boss?!" Finn’s eyes widened as the creature rose higher, eclipsing even the grand sanctum columns. Its eyes—dozens of them—glowed a murderous red.

  Before Finn could move, Rylan launched forward like a missile, his Aetheric Blade already drawn. The weapon screamed as it cut the air, a silver blur hurtling toward the beast.

  Caution: Engaging the sub-boss is highly discouraged. Tactical retreat recommended!

  Finn flinched as Rylan’s steel met the chitin’s scythes. The resulting shockwave slammed into him like a physical blow, sending dust and debris flying. He stumbled, coughing, vision blurred by the force of the clash.

  The sanctum? In ruins.

  The floor? A cracked, uneven mess.

  His stomach? Trying to crawl up his throat.

  "This is a tutorial sub-boss?" Finn mentally screamed. “Alex beat this thing?!”

  Every instinct screamed run, but his legs didn’t move.

  His instincts howled—Run! Run now!—but his legs refused to move. Frozen. Trapped.

  Behind him, Kaelen's voice trembled, hands shaking ever so slightly as he tried to hide the panic. He forced out a shaky joke: “Well, this is just great, isn’t it? Now the walls are trying to kill us too!”

  It fell flat. Even Kaelen knew it. The humor cracked, revealing the raw fear underneath. His eyes darted to the broken floor, the massive fissures, then back to the insectoid monstrosity rising from the rubble.

  Kaelen swallowed hard, hunched forward as he drew his blade. “Your Highness! We have to get out of here! The whole place is coming down!”

  Lyra, positioning herself near Finn, shot a quick, almost imperceptible glance towards Kaelen – a silent acknowledgment of his attempt at levity in the face of sheer terror.

  The fractures widened again, now gaping like open maws. They were trapped—sealed in the inner sanctum, surrounded by the shattered bones of what used to be the courtyard.

  Then—

  Lyra appeared at Finn’s side, silent as a shadow, her dagger already in hand. Her eyes darted through the chaos with precision. Calm in the storm.

  “There,” she said, pointing to a rapidly widening crack in the far wall. “Your Highness. That way. Now.”

  Anya grabbed Finn’s arm—firm, grounding, her touch sparking with barely contained energy. The air around her shimmered as her power flared uncontrollably. A nearby stone vibrated, hovered for half a second, then slammed back to the floor.

  Not now.

  She risked a quick, worried look towards Silas across the chamber, hoping her unstable Aether wasn't interfering with his work again.

  Her eyes narrowed, sweat beading on her brow as she forced the wild Aether back under control. No time to lose. No room for a mistake.

  “Finn!” she shouted, her voice shaking with urgency. “We have to go. Now!”

  Across the sanctum, Silas crouched low, his face set in stone. He raised his gauntlet and let loose a volley of Aether-charged bolts. They screamed through the air and struck a small gap in the Crusher’s thick carapace.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Minimal damage.

  The behemoth barely flinched.

  “Tch.” Silas scowled. “My modifications aren’t working as intended.” His voice was calm, but the edge of frustration cut through. “These bolts are useless—they’re not doing the damage I calculated.”

  Still, he kept firing. Not to kill. Not yet.

  To distract. To observe.

  To learn.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The Crusher lunged for Rylan—and Silas angled his next barrage to draw its attention away.

  The ground groaned beneath them, the sanctum shaking like it was alive and dying all at once. Another massive crack split through the floor, and the air turned to dust.

  “This way!” Lyra shouted over the chaos, yanking Finn by the wrist. Her grip was firm. Urgent. No time for arguments.

  “The whole place is collapsing!”

  Rylan fought the Crusher, his Aetheric Blade a silver blur, deflecting blows that would have cleaved him in two. Each blow made his arm tremble, the muscles straining as the creature’s force landed.

  He ignored the graze on his cheek and the pain in his shoulder, analyzing that they were not a threat to his well-being, even if his body was clearly reacting to them.

  HUD: Rylan activated [Unyielding Guardian].

  HUD: Rylan receives a temporary buff [Defense Up ↑].

  HUD: Rylan and nearby allies receive a temporary buff [Strength ↑].

  Rylan knew the cost.

  [Unyielding Guardian] pulsed through his body, layers of protective Aether thickening around him like a second skin. Every activation burned through his reserves like wildfire—but it was the only thing keeping the team alive.

  A lesson paid for in scars.

  His movements grew sluggish. Breath shallow. Muscles heavy. Yet his eyes stayed sharp, locked on the towering insect that threatened to rip his friends apart.

  He wouldn't fall. Not yet. Not while they still had a chance.

  And then—the Crusher moved.

  It unleashed its ability.

  A flurry of death.

  Its scythe-like limbs became a cyclone of jagged motion, a blur of chitin and devastation. The sanctum floor was torn apart, gouged with fresh scars. The golden light surrounding him flared. Rylan’s armor screamed in protest, taking hit after hit.

  Still, he stood.

  “Go!” he roared, his voice echoing across the ruined sanctum. “I’ll hold it off! Get the prince out!” His Aetheric Blade flashed as he deflected a blow, a desperate fight for survival. "Lyra, Kaelen—get him out! I’ll keep this beast busy!"

  Lyra didn't hesitate.

  [Lyra – Agility Bonus: +10% – Quick Action Triggered]

  She shoved Finn toward the breach, her movements fluid and fast.

  Kaelen followed.

  [Kinetic Barrier – Activated]

  His barrier flared to life, shielding them from the rain of debris as they moved. “This way, Your Highness! Through the breach!”

  Behind them, steel screamed against carapace.

  A desperate symphony of survival.

  Rylan held the line with everything he had.

  Finn stumbled as Lyra and Kaelen pulled him forward. The breach had grown—a jagged doorway into uncertainty. He risked one glance back.

  Rylan stood alone—bloodied but unbowed, golden Aether blazing around him like a dying star.

  The glow was beautiful—but it wasn’t just protection.

  It was strain. A warning.

  He was burning through everything he had—pushing beyond his limit.

  His Aetheric Blade trembled, overclocked tech barely keeping up with the raw force it was channeling. Finn could feel it even from here—a hum beneath the chaos, an edge about to snap.

  He’s not going to last much longer…

  The sanctum shook again.

  Finn’s mind raced.

  Anya—losing control.

  Silas—struggling with ineffective gear.

  Kaelen—cracking under pressure, his humor paper-thin.

  Their fear was taking over.

  He had to think. Fast.

  Unite them. Rally them. Use their strengths.

  I have to help them, he realized. I have to pull them together.

  And then—everything went black.

  The darkness morphed into something unreal—a dreamscape where reality and fantasy blurred like ink in water.

  Finn stood in an endless void, where light and shadow danced in an eternal waltz. The ground wasn’t stone or earth, but it held him, soft and surreal, like walking on air. Around him, images flickered—battles fought, faces familiar and strange—each one vanishing like a breath in the cold.

  Then came the voice.

  Soft as a lullaby. Ancient. Gentle. Powerful.

  It resonated—not just in his ears, but in his chest, like a song he’d always known but could never recall upon waking.

  “Do not worry,” it whispered, warmth seeping into his bones. “I have been waiting for you.”

  The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, woven into the very fabric of the dream. Finn tried to follow it, to grasp its meaning—but it slipped through his thoughts like sand through open hands.

  Peace settled over him. Real peace.

  Like the embrace of a memory too distant to name, but too dear to forget.

  The dream itself was a living tapestry—shapes and colors flowing without logic, voices murmuring without words, all merging into a strange, serene symphony.

  Then the voice returned—less a sentence, more a feeling.

  “The path is yours,” it breathed.

  “Choose the Light. You will not be disappointed.”

  No explanation. No answers. Just a gentle promise and a trail of new questions.

  Why had it waited for him?

  Was this dream showing him the way? Or simply echoing the storm inside his soul?

  The colors around him began to unravel.

  The images turned to streaks of light.

  The voice faded—like the final note of a song.

  Yet something lingered. A hum in his chest. A vibration in his bones.

  Something had changed.

  Finn gasped, his eyes snapping open as the last echo of the voice faded into silence.

  Cold stone pressed against his back—cracked and dusted with debris. The sounds of battle were close, far too close.

  Rylan knelt beside him, bloodied and breathless, his Aetheric Blade still crackling faintly in his grasp.

  His voice was clipped, urgent. "Your Highness! Can you hear me? Report your injuries—now."

  “What… what happened?” Finn mumbled, the words thick on his tongue. “I... I had this dream… there was a voice...” He tried to sit up only to immediately flop back down.

  “You hit your head when you fell through the breach,” Rylan said, his voice tight, professional—classic Rylan. “You were unconscious for a few minutes.”

  Finn stared up at the fractured ceiling, the hum of Aether still lingering in his bones, the taste of dream-speech fading like morning fog.

  "...Right," he said slowly. "Good talk."

  Rylan didn’t answer. He was already scanning the perimeter again, blade half-raised, posture coiled.

  Finn swallowed hard. Whatever that voice was—vision, delusion, something else entirely—it had marked him.

  And the battle wasn’t over.