The ruins grew narrower as the Hero pressed forward, ancient stone corridors half-swallowed by roots and silence. Her boots thudded softly, dust rising in small clouds with every step. Sora trailed behind her, not close enough to touch her shadow, but never far enough to lose her.
Every movement she made pulled at him.
Every step he took reminded her something followed.
Neither acknowledged it aloud.
The passage opened into a wide chamber—pillars cracked and hollow, a collapsed ceiling letting in pale moonlight. Broken murals stretched across the far wall, faded images of warriors kneeling before a hooded figure. She approached them cautiously.
"Looks religious," she muttered, brushing vines aside. "Or political. Hard to tell."
Her voice echoed faintly through the chamber. Sora stayed near the entrance, trembling at the vastness of the open space. His core glowed dimly, pulsing in quiet waves as he studied her silhouette moving in and out of the moonbeams.
Her presence filled the room more than the ruins did.
As she studied the mural, her hand drifted unconsciously toward her sword—not in fear, but habit. Readiness. Alertness. Strength.
Sora didn't understand human instincts, but he understood the tension in her posture. The slight shift of her weight. The tightening of her shoulders. Something was here.
She sensed it too.
"Come out," she called—not loud, but steady.
The shadows answered.
A low hiss echoed behind the murals. A long shape slithered free. Scales scraped against stone, glimmering with oily darkness. Its body was serpentine, twice her length, its head crowned with bone ridges. Eyes glowed faint yellow—hungry, patient.
A ruin serpent.
Fast. Venomous. Silent.
She exhaled through her teeth. "Of course."
The serpent lunged.
Her blade flashed in an arc, metal singing against air. The serpent twisted midair, narrowly avoiding the slash. It struck again, faster—fangs snapping for her throat.
She bent backwards, the attack grazing her armor, and rolled away. Dust kicked up around her as she rose into a low stance.
Sora flinched each time the serpent struck, his body wobbling with each impact he imagined on himself. His instincts screamed to flee, but his core hummed with something stubborn—watch, don't look away.
The serpent coiled, tail flicking. Venom dripped from its fangs, sizzling holes in the cracked floor.
"Toxic," she muttered. "Great."
It lunged, this time aiming lower.
She blocked with her bracer, the force staggering her. Sparks flew. The serpent's tail whipped behind her, catching her side. She slid across the stone, boots scraping.
Sora jerked, his entire form jolting as if the impact had hit him.
The Hero pushed herself up, shaking dust from her hair. "Persistent bastard."
The serpent reared back for a final strike, mouth opening wide enough to swallow her head whole—
She moved first.
One step forward. One upward slash. Clean. Controlled. Deadly.
The serpent's head severed from its body, falling to the ground with a dull thud. Its body writhed for a moment, then went still.
Silence.
Her shoulders rose and fell with a slow, deep breath. She wiped her blade clean again, though less carefully this time, the weariness in her stance only slightly showing.
"You can come out," she said without turning. "If you're still there."
Sora hesitated behind the broken pillar he'd hidden behind. His gelatinous body trembled. Cautiously, slowly, he peeked out, wobbling into the chamber.
She finally looked at him.
Not with warmth. Not with kindness.
But not with hostility either.
Her expression was almost impossible to read—tightened jaw, narrowed eyes, breathing steadying. Like she was trying to decide what he was supposed to be.
A threat?
A nuisance?
A puzzle?
"…You really followed me all the way in," she said quietly.
He rippled once, unsure if it meant anything.
Her gaze flicked to the corpse of the serpent. "You saw that. You still coming?"
Sora slid a little closer, body quivering.
She sighed. "I don't understand you."
Her voice carried something beneath it—frustration, curiosity, something faint but undeniable. She sheathed her sword and stepped toward a staircase leading deeper underground.
Then she froze.
A crumbled statue beside the steps glowed faintly—etched symbols lighting up in soft blue as she approached. She stepped back instinctively, hand darting to her sword.
"…Magic traps," she muttered. "Old ones."
Sora vibrated sharply—startled by the sudden glow.
"Don't touch anything," she warned him automatically, then paused. "Not that you understand me."
But he did understand her tone. Caution. Danger. He stayed still.
She studied the glowing runes. "This wasn't random ruin debris. This place was sealed."
Her eyes flicked downward into the darkness below the stairs. Something in the air throbbed with power—distant, rhythmic, heavy.
"We shouldn't be here yet," she whispered.
For a moment, she stood quietly, thinking.
Then she turned to Sora.
"I'll clear the traps. You… do whatever you're doing back there."
She moved slowly down the steps, brushing her fingers over the runes, muttering under her breath. "Layered… old magic… dammit."
Sora stayed behind, watching. His core pulsed, sensing the heavy forces below. Even without words, without knowledge, he felt something ancient stirring under the ruins.
Something dangerous.
Something calling.
The Hero descended further, her light steps echoing. Sora inched after her, his fear battling the instinct that had defined his short existence so far.
Follow her.
And so he did.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, her voice drifted back up, quiet but sharp.
"…Slime. Don't touch the glowing stones."
Sora paused, then carefully edged around them.
When he reached her side, she no longer looked irritated or confused.
She looked troubled.
Because carved into the deepest wall of the ruin—glowing faintly with the same old magic—was a mural.
A hero standing above monsters.
A serpent, a wolf, a boar.
And at the bottom, a tiny shape—round, small, insignificant.
A slime.
Her jaw clenched.
"Of course," she whispered. "This world really does hate your kind."
Sora's body tightened, core flickering uneasily.
She looked down at him, exhaled slowly, and said in a low voice that wasn't cruel—but wasn't gentle either:
"…Stay close. This place is about to get worse."
Sora moved beside her.
And together—one warrior armed with steel, one tiny monster armed only with instinct—they stepped deeper into the forgotten dark.