Filip didn't move.
Not because fear had frozen him—
—but because something finally, painfully, became clear.
The skeleton wasn't hunting him.
It was listening.
Its skull was tilted slightly upward, empty eye sockets fixed on the staircase spiraling above. Completely still. Waiting. As if even the smallest sound might trigger it.
Cold dread crawled through Filip's chest as the realization settled in. If Rio shifted his weight. If he slipped. If he made a single noise—
The skeleton would rush upward.
Straight toward him.
Filip's grip tightened around the sword without him meaning to.
Pain flared instantly.
His palms burned, raw and shredded. Blisters had burst long ago, skin split open and smeared with blood. The hilt was slick, difficult to hold, and every faint vibration from the blade sent sharp, stabbing agony racing up his arms.
His hands trembled.
Still, he forced the words out.
"No," he whispered hoarsely. "You're not going up there."
The skeleton moved.
Fast.
It exploded forward with terrifying speed, far faster than before. Filip barely managed to twist aside. The bony arm sliced through the space where his chest had been a moment earlier, close enough that the air itself seemed to tear.
He stumbled, boots skidding uselessly against stone. His tail lashed instinctively, throwing off what little balance he had left as his shoulder slammed hard into the wall.
Pain burst through his side.
Think.
Bones break.
Joints fail.
The skeleton attacked again.
Filip raised his sword—
CLANG.
The impact detonated pain through his hands. He cried out, almost losing his grip as white-hot agony ripped through his palms. Blisters burst under the force, skin tearing further as blood soaked into the hilt.
His fingers screamed.
But the skeleton staggered.
A thin crack spread across one of its ribs.
Filip sucked in a sharp breath.
"That… that hurt you," he gasped.
Hope flickered—fragile, but real.
He struck again, forcing his shaking arms to obey.
CRACK.
The knee joint shattered unevenly. Bone bent at an impossible angle as the skeleton lurched forward.
It faltered—
but it didn't fall.
With a grinding sound, bone scraping against bone, it straightened again and charged as if nothing mattered. As if damage meant nothing.
Filip's breath hitched.
It doesn't feel pain.
It doesn't get tired.
But I do.
The attacks came relentlessly.
Every block sent new waves of pain tearing through his hands. His grip slipped again and again. Blood dripped down his fingers, splattering against the stone. The sword felt heavier with every heartbeat.
Then—
Filip stumbled.
Not because the ground betrayed him—
—but because his tail did.
It caught against his own leg mid-step, ripping his balance away completely. He crashed hard onto the stone floor, pain exploding up his side as the air was torn violently from his lungs.
For a heartbeat, the world went white.
The skeleton raised both arms.
Filip rolled desperately.
Bone slammed into the floor where his head had been a second earlier. Stone cracked violently as dust burst into the air.
If that hit me… I'd be dead.
He forced himself upright, chest burning, vision swimming. His whole body screamed at him to stop.
Run.
The instinct roared louder than ever.
But his eyes snapped upward.
Toward the stairs.
"No," Filip growled through clenched teeth.
If it won't fall—
—I'll tear it apart if need be.
He stepped forward instead of back.
The skeleton swung.
Filip ducked beneath the attack, shoulder slamming painfully into bone as he passed. He twisted his body and slashed upward—
CRACK.
The elbow joint shattered.
The arm tore free and hit the floor with a hollow, lifeless clatter.
The skeleton shrieked.
A sound empty and furious, echoing unnaturally through the chamber.
Filip didn't stop.
Ignoring the agony screaming through his hands, he struck again—higher this time.
CRACK.
The second arm shattered at the shoulder.
The skeleton staggered wildly now, balance completely gone, its body twisting unnaturally as it tried to advance without limbs.
Filip's knees shook violently.
Blood dripped steadily from his palms, splashing onto the stone.
Just a little longer.
The skeleton rushed him blindly, throwing its weight forward in one last, desperate charge.
Filip sidestepped at the last possible moment and swung—
CRACK.
The spine split.
The skeleton froze mid-step.
Then it collapsed.
Bones scattered across the stone floor, clattering and rolling until they finally lay still.
Silence rushed back in, heavy and absolute.
Filip stood there, swaying.
The sword slipped from his numb fingers and hit the stone with a dull clatter.
He stared down at his hands.
Skin split open.
Blisters torn raw.
Blood smeared across his palms and fingers.
They burned.
They throbbed.
They barely felt like his anymore.
"…I won," he whispered, before his legs gave out completely.
Filip slid down against the cold stone wall, breathing shallow and uneven as his body began to shake uncontrollably. The adrenaline drained away all at once, leaving only pain and exhaustion behind.
He tried to stand.
But his body refused.
His eyelids grew impossibly heavy.
Rio is safe.
I stopped it.
That thought settled warmly in his chest.
Filip's head tipped forward.
And there, at the very bottom of the pyramid—
Filip slipped into unconsciousness.