The ruins stretched deeper than any of them had expected. Cracked archways opened into narrow passages, vines dangling like curtains. Dust motes drifted where beams of pale light cut through the gaps in the ceiling. The group's footsteps echoed off the stone floors whivh were scarred with age.
They moved slowly, tired and wary. The lizard attack still clung to their nerves. Nobody wanted to admit it, but death had brushed close, closer than any of them had thought possible.
J whistled tunelessly as he trailed behind, twirling a dagger he had scavenged between his fingers. His grin was a little too wide, his voice too loud for the silence.
"Wow," he said, glancing up at a half-collapsed mural of snakes devouring men. "Talk about interior design. Real cozy. Ten out of ten. I would Airbnb again."
Ravi's absence hung like a ghost in the group, though no one mentioned it. They had all assumed he'd slipped away. J kept his mouth shut on that subject for once.
Maya walked near him, quiet as ever, her gaze flicking between shadows. J noticed the way she never strayed far from him now, though she said nothing.
The corridor spilled into a wide chamber, half swallowed by roots. Bones littered the floor some looked human and some where of creatures they had no idea of. Shattered shields leaned against walls, their insignias eaten away by time. Rusted swords, dented helmets, and broken spears lay scattered like the leftovers of a battle long forgotten.
And in the far corner, faint light glimmered from piles of corroded metal. Treasure or what passed for it.
The survivors surged forward, eyes wild, snatching at anything that looked remotely useful. A cracked breastplate,a bent spear, dull knives. It was chaos with grabbing hands, shouting voices, the scrape of metal on stone.
J leaned against a pillar, deadpan. "Black Friday sale in a murder dungeon. Real classy." Nobody listened.
He sighed, dragging his feet towards a pile the others had already dismissed. The good stuff, if there ever was any was gone. All that was left were scraps, rust, and dust.
That's when he saw it.
A scabbard, half-buried beneath collapsed rubble, so caked in grime it almost blended with the stone. J crouched, tugging at the hilt, it was wedged tight. He grunted, yanked harder and suddenly it came free, showering him in grit.
The katana inside was worse than junk. The blade was pitted with rust, the edge nicked, the once-proud steel dulled to brown. The wrapping on the hilt had long since frayed away.
A laugh bubbled up his throat thinking of his luck but then his breath hitched. Because when he pulled it free, something stirred.
For just a heartbeat, the world seemed to sharpen. The air hummed, the edges of the room too clear, too defined. A shiver ran through his arm and into his chest, like the blade was whispering directly into his bones.
J froze, staring at the katana.
What was that?
The moment passed, the hum faded. The blade looked like nothing more than scrap metal again. He swallowed, the seriousness slipping behind his grin as quick as a mask. He straightened, raising the sword high with a flourish.
"Behold!" he declared. "Rusty-Chan, breaker of tetanus and destroyer of immune systems everywhere!"
A few survivors glanced at him, snorted, and went back to their scavenging. Erik shook his head in disgust.
Maya, though, tilted her head. She had noticed the way he'd gone still when he first drew it.
She drifted closer as the others squabbled over dull swords.
"Why do you joke so much?" she asked softly.
J swung Rusty-Chan in a lazy arc, narrowly missing a dangling vine. "Because if I don't, I'll scream. And screaming makes people nervous."
Maya studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "…You're not as weak as you let them think."
J's grin flickered but held. He tapped his nose with the flat of the blade. "Shhh. Don't ruin my brand. I'm selling the coward package deal that comes with free sarcasm."
She didn't smile, but her eyes lingered. Like she knew there was more he wasn't saying.
Then suddenly the floor trembled. At first, J thought it was his imagination. But then torches flared at the far entrance. Boots pounded on stone.
Shadows spilled across the walls as armed figures poured in, fanning out with practiced ease. They weren't monsters. They were people, the other survivors. And they weren't friendly.
Within seconds, the chamber was surrounded. Shouts rose, weapons clanged. The scattered survivors froze, clutching their looted gear uselessly.
Then he came.
Marcus Kane strode into the chamber like he owned it. Tall, broad-shouldered, a scar cutting across his cheek, eyes burning with ruthless confidence. A jagged sword rested across his back, its edge faintly glowing with embers of Essence.
Every step radiated command. The room seemed smaller for his presence.
"Congratulations," Marcus said, his voice carrying like thunder. "You survived the first culling. That makes you useful."
He swept his gaze over them, calm and calculating. Survivors shrank back under his stare.
Maya stiffened, instinctively stepping back. Without thinking, J shifted forward, placing himself just a fraction ahead of her. It was subtle, almost casual, but Maya noticed.
Marcus's gaze landed on J last. On his ragged clothes, his dust-caked hair, and the rusted katana dangling loosely from his hand.
"…And you?" Marcus asked. "What's that with you? That katana has seen better days."
J raised the katana high, beaming. "Correction: premium antique katana. Limited edition, comes with free tetanus."
A few survivors stifled nervous snickers.
Marcus's lip twitched. A shadow of amusement, buried under contempt. "You're either brave, or stupid."
J winked. "Plot twist I'm both. Buy one, get one free."
A dark chuckle rolled from Marcus's chest. He shook his head. "Harmless."
The command came sharp and quick. His men surged forward.
"Bind them."
Ropes cut into their wrists. Survivors screamed and begged. One man tried to run, and Marcus burned him down without hesitation. That's a dangerous power which a bad man has.
The group froze. Resistance meant death.
Erik clenched his jaw, straining against his captors until one cracked him across the skull with a spear butt. He dropped to his knees, glaring at the fire.
Maya kept silent, steady despite the ropes.
J grinned as the bindings tightened. "Wow and here I thought this trip didn't come with amenities. What is this, bondage camp?"
The hooked-nose second-in-command sneered down at him. "This one's useless. Dead weight. I'll make sure he's first fed to the beasts."
J winked up at him. "That's Mr. Dead Weight to you."
The man raised his hand to strike him, but Marcus waved it off with a bored glance. "Not worth the effort. If he's weak, the Trials will kill him for us."
The second spat but stepped back, eyes still full of venom.
The chamber emptied under Marcus's command. Survivors were shoved into lines, marched towards the far exit where more soldiers waited. The ruins swallowed them in a tide of footsteps and torchlight.
J trailed near the back, Rusty-Chan dragging noisily across the floor behind him. They let him keep it thinking not even a butterfly could be killed with such a blade.
His grin never faltered. But his eyes lingered on Marcus's broad back, serious beneath the mask.
"…A tyrant, huh?" he thought. Fine, let's see how long before your empire of ropes turns into a circus act.
End