I didn't move.
Not because I was brave.
Not because I was smart.
I didn't move because every instinct in my body had locked up at once, like something inside me had pulled an emergency brake and snapped it clean off.
The thing that had slammed the hallway moments earlier was still there. The creature it launched destroyed some of the functioning lights in the hallway. So–
I couldn't see it.
But I could feel it.
The air felt suffocating. The longer I looked in its direction, the harder it was to breathe. My skin prickled, and the hair on my arms stood up.
Then–
Something scraped against the stone.
A low, grinding sound rolled through the corridor, vibrating faintly through the bars of the cell. It sounded like metal plates scraping against each other, as if something heavy were changing position.
Its movement made some of the remaining lights flicker weakly. I stared through the bars, eyes wide and unblinking.
As the lights steadied, the sound of shifting faded.
I saw it clearly then.
At first, it looked like a mound of overlapping plates, uneven and tightly packed. The dim corridor lights caught on the spines along its surface, throwing brief flashes of reflected light.
It was curled in on itself.
The shell twitched, plates flexing slightly as if something underneath was adjusting its position. Dust slid down its surface in thin trails. A few loose stones skittered across the floor when it shifted its weight.
That thing had rolled through the corridor.
That thing had hit the creature outside my cell.
And the creature it had hit… hadn't gotten back up.
The realization hit me late.
The hallway was quiet now.
The shuffling, groaning thing that had been trying to pull me through the bars earlier was likely killed in one hit.
I swallowed, throat dry.
The Tyrant uncurled slightly.
Not enough to reveal everything—but enough for me to see movement beneath the shell. Thick limbs folded inward, then extended again, joints bending in ways that made my stomach twist. It didn't rush. It didn't seem frantic.
It was checking.
Its head emerged next.
I forced myself not to flinch.
The face was… wrong. Pale, stretched over bone, with large, dark eyes that reflected the light dully. No nose — just ruined flesh, like it had been chewed off where one should have been. Its ears, not human, twitched faintly, rotating as if tracking sound.
Its eyes moved.
Scanning.
'Fudge'
It could see.
It lifted its head higher, eyes sweeping across the corridor and past me. It didn't give me a second look.
I realized then that it wasn't looking at me.
It was looking for movement.
For prey.
My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would give me away, but the Tyrant didn't react. Its gaze passed over the bars of the cell, over my crouched form frozen in place.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Some part of my mind, distant and barely functional, clicked together the pieces.
It attacked the other creature because it moved.
Because it made noise.
Because it acted.
Right now, I was just a shape to it.
Not prey. Yet.
The Tyrant's head tilted.
Its attention shifted—not to me, but to the warped iron bars. The ones bent and twisted from the earlier impact. The metal still groaned softly, settling back into place with faint, stressed creaks.
The sound echoed down the corridor.
That was enough.
The Tyrant turned toward it.
Lowered its body and charged.
The impact came without warning.
Iron screamed.
The bars didn't just bend this time—they tore free from the wall entirely. Stone exploded outward as metal anchors ripped loose, chunks of masonry flying across the corridor.
The force hit me a split second later.
Something slammed into the bars, into the wall, into me.
I was thrown backward, my feet leaving the ground as the world spun violently. The floor rushed up to meet me, hard and unforgiving, knocking the air from my lungs in a sharp, painful burst.
I hit the ground and skidded.
White-hot pain flared along my side, but my brain barely registered it.
Shock drowned it out completely.
I lay still.
Incapable of moving.
The Tyrant loomed where the bars had been, massive and unhurried. It didn't charge again. Didn't roar. Didn't celebrate.
It simply stood there.
Watching.
Waiting for it to move.
My chest burned. My ears rang. Somewhere nearby, bits of stone and iron settled with soft clicks and scrapes.
I didn't move.
Didn't groan.
Didn't scream.
The Tyrant's eyes swept the cell again.
Slowly.
They passed over me.
I was still just a shape to it.
A thing on the floor.
Not moving.
Not making noise.
Not alive enough to be interesting.
The Tyrant moved forward.
Until it was right on top of me.
Looking straight at me. Waiting.
Seconds stretched for an eternity. My limbs tingled, with pins and needles. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, in my ears, in my fingertips—but the world outside my body remained silent.
Finally, the Tyrant seemed to lose interest.
It turned its head to the right, toward the darker stretch of corridor leading away from the cell. Its ears twitched again, catching distant echoes — something else moving. Something else alive.
Without another glance at me,it left the cell and began to curl in on itself. Plates slid into place.
Then it spun — and the ground cracked as it shot down the corridor.
Heavy grinding sounds echoed from the hallway, growing fainter and fainter.
Then silence.
Only then did my body start to shake.
Not violently. Just small, uncontrollable tremors as feeling slowly returned to my limbs. The pain in my side bloomed fully now, sharp and deep, stealing my breath all over again.
I curled slightly, biting down hard to keep any sound from escaping.
The Tyrant was gone.
But the Nightmare Spell hadn't ended.
And I had a very bad feeling that staying perfectly still wasn't going to save me a second time.
—---
30 minutes later
I still hadn't moved.
I didn't know exactly when the shaking stopped — only that at some point my muscles went stiff from holding themselves too tightly for too long. My back ached where it pressed into the stone. My jaw hurt from being clenched. Even my eyes burned from staying open without blinking.
Thirty minutes.
I counted my breaths instead of time. To ignore the pain and stop any noises from forming unconsciously,
The Tyrant didn't come back.
The corridor stayed empty.
No footsteps.
No scraping.
No rolling thunder of something impossibly fast.
Eventually, the silence stopped feeling like a pause… and started feeling like an absence.
I swallowed.
Carefully, I shifted one finger.
Nothing happened.
Another breath.
Then, very slowly, I pushed myself up.
The moment I did, the world lurched.
A wave of nausea slammed into me so hard I barely had time to brace myself before I bent over, gagging violently. My stomach twisted, convulsing like it was trying to empty itself all at once.
Nothing came up.
Again.
And again.
Just harsh, dry heaves that burned my throat and left me gasping for air, sour bile stinging my mouth. My head swam. Black spots crept into the edges of my vision.
I dropped to one knee, one hand pressed against the floor, the other clutched tight against my ribs.
Something there was definitely broken.
Sharp pain flared when I breathed too deeply, radiating through my side and up into my arm. I hissed softly through my teeth, immediately freezing again at the sound.
Too loud.
I forced myself to stillness, riding out the nausea until it finally eased enough that I could breathe without retching.
Slowly.
Quietly.
I ignored the pain.
I had a feeling acknowledging it too much would make it worse.
When I finally stood again, I did it inch by inch, careful not to scrape my feet or shift too suddenly. Every step sent a jolt through my ribs, but I kept my breathing shallow and controlled.
The place where the bars had been was open now.
Jagged stone. Twisted iron. The cell wasn't a cell anymore.
I crept forward and peered out, hoping nothing moved.
Nothing moved.
The corridor was empty.
My shoulders sagged slightly before I caught myself and froze again.
Lights flickered faintly along the walls, some shattered, others barely holding on. Dust still hung in the air from the earlier impact, settling slowly onto the floor.
Then I noticed something strange.
Near the wall — where the Tyrant had slammed the creature — small pebbles were shifting.
Just barely.
At first, I thought it was dust settling.
But then one stone rolled aside.
Then another.
My breath caught.
There was no way.
Nothing should've survived that.
Still… I wasn't stupid enough to assume.
I scanned the floor and spotted one of the iron bars that had torn loose from the wall. It was heavy, bent at one end, but solid enough. I dragged it toward me as quietly as I could, the metal whispering faintly against the stone.
A weapon.
Or at least… something to keep me standing.
Keeping my steps light, I approached the pile of rubble and stopped a few feet away. I crouched slowly, wincing as pain flared through my side again.
I used the bar like a pole, reaching out and nudging one of the stones.
Nothing.
Another.
Still nothing.
Then, as I pushed a larger chunk aside, I saw it.
A hand.
Misshapen fingers twitched weakly, scraping faint lines into the dust.
My stomach dropped.
It was still alive.
That realization sparked something else — not fear this time, but opportunity.
'If it is still alive… then killing it might give me a memory to help me survive this.'
I pushed more debris aside, revealing the creature's body bit by bit. Most of it was broken. Bones jutted out at wrong angles, piercing through its own flesh. Its torso was crushed, caved inward like it had been folded in half.
And yet…
It was breathing.
Slow. Shallow. But unmistakable.
I uncovered its head last.
The skull was partially collapsed, one side dented inward, the face slack and ruined — but its eyes fluttered faintly, rolling weakly in their sockets.
So even that wasn't enough.
I stared at it for a long moment.
'So hitting you in the head isn't a guaranteed kill,' I noted grimly.
Carefully, I tested a few spots with the iron bar — ribs, shoulder, neck. Some areas gave slightly. Others felt disturbingly tough. I didn't trust the results. The damage it had already taken made judging its real durability impossible.
Enough testing.
Not killing it soon feels like a mistake.
I raised the bar with my uninjured arm and aimed for its eye.
At the last second, the face went flat on the floor, its eye slipping out of reach.
The bar struck its forehead instead.
Thunk.
The impact left a mark — a shallow dent — but nothing more. The creature twitched, fingers spasming weakly.
I frowned.
"Harder than expected," I muttered under my breath, immediately wincing at the sound.
This time, I drove the bar straight down into the collapsed part of its skull, using both hands. The metal bit in with a sickening resistance. I twisted it slightly, grinding.
The body jerked once.
Then again.
Then went still.
I held the bar there for a few seconds longer… just in case.
Finally, I stepped back.
Silence.
Only then did a familiar, unwelcome presence make itself known.
[You have Slain a dormant beast, The Remnant of Hubris.]
[You have received a Memory…]
The Nightmare Spell's voice echoed in my head.
'I got one' I thought as I closed my eyes briefly, breathing through the pain in my ribs and the lingering sickness in my stomach.
Hopefully whatever this memory is will get me through this.
Since the Trial continues at this pace.
And I will need all the help I could get.