Chapter 8: Sacrifice
Moments ago...
Adam studied the statues, then shifted his attention to the altar. His eyes narrowed as he traced the intricate carvings with his fingers, the cold stone beneath them rough and ancient. A flickering torch on the wall cast jagged shadows across the chamber, making the runes appear as if they were shifting, writhing under his gaze.
The markings were old—far older than anything he had encountered before. Most of them were indecipherable, their language foreign and arcane, but a few words stood out amidst the tangle of symbols:
"People... Sacrifice... Devil."
A chill crawled up his spine. The words didn't just suggest danger—they screamed it. The entire arrangement of the runes, the placement of the statues, the oppressive air in the chamber—it all felt too deliberate. It wasn't just an altar. It was something more.
Something wrong.
He took a step back, his body instinctively seeking distance. If something happened, if something activated—he needed a clear path of escape.
"Garrett," Adam called, his voice low but firm.
Garrett turned from inspecting the chamber walls. "What is it?"
Adam gestured at the statues, their unmoving faces carved in expressions of agony. "They weren't just guarding the altar," he murmured. "They were stopping something—or someone—from reaching it."
Garrett's expression darkened. "Then the real question is… why?"
Lucian, standing beside the altar, wiped his blade on his sleeve and let out a quiet chuckle. "Guess we're about to find out."
The air shifted. A low hum resonated through the chamber, a vibration that seemed to rise from the very walls. The runes on the altar pulsed with an eerie crimson glow, veins of fire spreading outward across the floor. The dust beneath their feet trembled, lifting into the air as if drawn toward the energy awakening around them.
Adam's instincts screamed at him. He didn't hesitate. He leaped off the altar.
Across from him, Garrett did the same.
A heartbeat later, a blinding red light descended upon the altar. A wave of energy exploded outward, slamming into Adam with the force of a hurricane. His body was flung across the chamber, pain lancing through his ribs as he crashed into the cold stone wall.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When the crimson light descended upon the altar...
A sound split the air—an agonized, bloodcurdling wail that echoed through the chamber, a symphony of suffering. It was not just one voice, but many, their cries intertwining in a chilling chorus. The very walls of the ruin seemed to tremble with their despair.
Bodies littered the altar.
Flesh seared. Blood pooled. The remains of their team—once strong, once alive—were reduced to nothing but charred husks, their faces frozen in terror.
The light pulsed one final time, then receded, drawn back into the runes as if it had merely borrowed existence for a moment before vanishing into eternity.
Silence fell over the chamber, thick and suffocating.
And in the center of it all, where the altar still smoldered, something gleamed.
A treasure.
Golden. Pulsating. Alive with an energy that did not belong to this world.
Lucian stepped forward, his boots crunching against the scorched remains beneath him. He ignored the scent of burning flesh, the acrid stench of death. His eyes locked onto the object, its glow reflecting in his irises like embers waiting to ignite.
He reached for it.
Then he hesitated.
A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision made him pause. Slowly, he turned his head.
Garrett.
The man was still standing, though barely. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone-white.
"They're all dead," Garrett muttered, his voice hollow, barely above a whisper.
Lucian exhaled sharply. "They were weak."
Garrett's eyes snapped to him, fury and disbelief clashing in his gaze. "Weak?" His voice rose. "You hired our team, Lucian. You led us here. To sacrifice people."
Lucian's fingers twitched at his side. "They were expendable."
Garrett took a step forward, his jaw tight, his body trembling with barely restrained rage. "That's what you think?"
Lucian's smirk didn't waver. "That's what I know."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was electric, charged with an unspoken promise of violence.
Then Garrett moved.
He lunged, a blur of motion fueled by fury and grief. His fist swung toward Lucian's face, but Lucian was faster. He sidestepped, grabbing Garrett's wrist and twisting. Bones cracked. Garrett gritted his teeth against the pain but didn't yield. Instead, he drove his knee upward, aiming for Lucian's ribs.
Lucian let go and leaped back just in time, avoiding the impact by mere inches.
Garrett didn't stop. He advanced again, this time drawing the blade at his waist, his movements fueled by raw hatred. He swung at Lucian's throat.
Steel met steel as Lucian blocked with his own blade. Sparks flew. The sound of clashing metal filled the chamber, drowning out the distant crackle of dying embers.
Adam, still slumped against the wall, groaned as consciousness clawed its way back to him. Pain radiated through his ribs, sharp and unforgiving, but his mind was sharper. He blinked rapidly, forcing the haze from his vision.
The sight before him made his breath hitch.
Lucian and Garrett were locked in battle, their movements deadly and precise. But more importantly—
No one was watching the altar.
No one was watching the treasure.
Adam's gaze flickered to it. Still glowing, still untouched.
He made his decision.
Ignoring the pain screaming through his body, Adam moved. Slowly at first, his breaths shallow as he kept his presence minimal. He slipped behind the remains of the statues, using them as cover, each step precise, calculated.
Lucian and Garrett fought, oblivious to him.
Adam reached the altar. His fingers brushed against the treasure, and the moment they made contact, a shiver ran up his spine. Energy surged through him, something ancient and powerful, something beyond comprehension.
He didn't hesitate.
He grabbed it.
And then he ran.
The shift in energy was immediate.
Lucian's head snapped toward the altar. His smirk vanished, replaced by something raw and violent. His gaze locked onto Adam's retreating figure, and rage twisted his features.
"You—!"
Lucian moved, but Garrett was already there, blocking his path.
"Go!" Garrett shouted, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Run, Adam! Tell the association what happened!"
Adam didn't look back.
He sprinted through the ruins, past the bodies of his fallen team, past the place that had almost claimed his life. He ran not toward the exit, but deeper into the unknown—because if Lucian was after him, there was only one thing he could do.
Disappear.