Leo crawled through the mountain's veins for what felt like hours.
The fissure narrowed—
scrape
widened—
hollow echo
narrowed again.
Sometimes he had to turn sideways and hold his breath just to slip through.
Other times the passage opened into pockets big enough to stand… but never long enough to matter.
The air changed first.
Thick.
Stale.
Tasting of stone and old blood.
No sunlight reached this deep.
Only the faint, sickly glow bleeding from his shadow-wrapped skin lit the way.
He didn't stop.
Stopping meant thinking.
Thinking meant remembering—
—the wet crunch of the larva's skull under the rockfall.
—its last eye still searching for him as it died.
So he kept moving.
The shadows moved with him.
Ahead of him.
Around him.
They whispered along the walls, showing him loose stone, sudden drops, hidden cracks.
He didn't ask.
They just obeyed.
And every time they did, the brand around his throat tightened—
not much.
Just enough to remind him.
He hated it.
He used it anyway.
Eventually the passage spat him out onto a narrow ledge overlooking a cavern so vast the far side was swallowed by darkness.
A thin, sourceless light bled from cracks high above, staining everything the color of fading bruises.
The cavern floor below was a frozen black lake—fractured, uneven, dead.
And in the center of it, something enormous lay coiled.
Leo's breath caught.
Not the Mountain King.
Not yet.
But big enough to be a nightmare.
A serpent carved from night, its scales like overlapping blades.
Five blind heads swayed on long necks, tasting the air.
Clear fluid dripped from each mouth—hissssss—burning tiny holes into the stone.
[Creature: Carapace Scavenger (Adult)]
[Rank: Awakened Demon]
[Tier: 3]
Leo pressed flat against the wall.
Three ranks above the larva.
He might as well have been holding a twig.
All five heads froze.
Turned.
Together.
Facing him.
Leo didn't breathe.
One head dipped low, tongue flicking.
Another reared high.
The center head opened its jaws—
—SKRRRRAAACH.
Metal tearing.
Then, slowly, all five heads drifted away.
Not uninterested.
Not oblivious.
Disappointed.
Leo realized the shadows had cinched tight around him, so tight he looked like a tear in the world.
They had hidden him completely—scent, heat, presence.
He waited until the scavenger curled back into its coil.
Only then did he exhale, shaky and thin.
He edged along the ledge, careful not to shift even dust.
Halfway around he found it: a rough staircase carved into the far wall. Ancient. Crumbling. Leading upward toward a glowing crack of light.
He started climbing.
The steps were too tall for anything human.
Whoever had built this place had not cared for people like him.
Leo had to haul himself with both hands, climbing step to step like a vertical cliff.
His arms burned.
His fingers reopened, bleeding.
The Shadow Shard was tied to his back with strips of ruined cloth.
Halfway up—
The mountain convulsed.
Not a rumble.
A violent, gut-deep EXPULSION.
Stone dust rained over him.
A step crumbled under his foot and fell away into the abyss.
Leo lunged—caught the next ledge—hung there by shredded fingertips.
Below, the scavenger uncoiled in a whip-crack blur, heads thrashing toward the tremor.
The Mountain King was coming.
Leo hauled himself up, climbing faster now.
Reckless.
Desperate.
The staircase ended at a vertical chimney that punched straight up.
He wedged himself inside and climbed like an insect, back braced against one wall, feet scraping the other.
Light glimmered somewhere far above.
Red.
Distant.
Behind him, the cavern screamed.
Leo didn't look down.
He burst out onto a windswept plateau just as the sun finally died.
Sky: black.
Stars: cold.
Air: razor-thin.
In the distance, the mountain's peak had split open.
Like an eggshell.
Something titanic pushed through, stone shedding in avalanches of fire and dust.
Leo didn't stop to admire it.
He ran.
The plateau sloped into a maze of toppled pillars, broken statues—remnants of a civilization that had begged the wrong god.
The wind howled, a living force trying to shove him from the mountain's spine.
He let the shadows cling to him, anchoring his feet, propelling him forward when his human body wanted to collapse.
Then—
—ROOOOOOOOOAR.
The Mountain King's voice tore the sky.
The sound hit him like a physical strike.
Leo staggered.
Blood spilled warm from his ears.
Then his Flaw turned against him.
Child of Shadows.
His knees buckled.
His head bowed.
Submission forced into his bones.
A king had spoken.
Slaves were meant to kneel.
Leo snarled, dragging himself upright through sheer hatred.
"Not yours," he spat. "Not yet."
He ran until the roar faded behind stone, until his lungs were nothing but knives, until his vision blurred to tunneling darkness.
Only then did he collapse behind the shattered torso of some ancient stone titan.
The voice returned—
calm, sterile, uncaring.
[First Nightmare: Stage One completed.]
[Preparing transition to Stage Two.]
Leo laughed.
Or cried.
Or both.
Stage Two.
Of course there was a Stage Two.
He wiped his face with a shaking hand and stared up at the alien stars.
"Fine," he whispered to whatever was listening. "Bring it."
The shadows rippled around him—
soft, eager.
Somewhere far away, something new woke up just for him.
Leo closed his eyes.
And waited for the world to break again.