After deciding on their next destination, the group spent the following day preparing as thoroughly as they could. Supplies were gathered, strategies debated, and contingency plans laid out for every scenario they could imagine. Each of them spoke openly about their strengths and weaknesses, ensuring that when battle came, no one would be caught off guard.
Back in the city, the new arrivals struggled at first to accept the presence of ghosts. Yet the serene beauty of the restored streets, along with Leo's assurances that they were safe, gradually eased their fears. The fruit-bearing trees that now dotted the city provided further comfort, offering a new source of food and a symbol of life's return.
When the time came to depart, Arlasan chose to accompany Leo and his companions, bringing with him two of his strongest men. Alina wished to go as well, but after much insistence, and the sober reminder of her limited strength, she reluctantly agreed to remain behind. The safety of the city and its people was entrusted to her care.
As the clock marked the new day, the companions assembled at the edge of the road leading out of the city. Leo and the others waited in silence as Arlasan gave his final instructions to Alina and the elders. With farewells spoken, he joined the group, and thus the journey of ten companions began.
For three days they pressed onward through the oppressive shadows. Their only guide was the Goddess herself, revealed to Leo alone, whose quiet directions carried them across the desolate lands. On the fourth day, the silhouette of a ruined city finally appeared before them. Though veiled in darkness, the weight it exuded was unmistakable. A creeping dread settled over them all, growing heavier with each step they took toward it.
Near the ruined gate, a monster larger than anything they had faced before thundered toward them with a bone-rattling roar. Its legs ended in massive hooves, its upper body twisted with grotesque protrusions of flesh and bone, more corruption than beast, a mockery of life itself.
Arthur stepped forward, blade in hand, while the others readied their spells. But as the creature drew close and its face emerged from the veil of carrion, the entire group, save for Arlasan and his two men, stiffened in shock.
They knew that face.
"It's him," Leo muttered. "Archmage Hakkan."
"So, they really did come here," Luciana said coldly. "And they were defeated… or consumed by something worse," she added, voice low.
Arthur raised his sword. "Then let's put him to rest."
Hakkan's roar split the air, shaking the very ground. From the soil around him, abominations clawed their way free, misshapen horrors, half-rotten, half-shadow, hundreds of them. With another thunderous roar, the horde surged forward.
Arthur charged to meet them. His first swing cleaved through ten at once, but as the bodies fell, they burst in clouds of noxious green gas. The stench was suffocating.
Arthur held his breath, a golden light suddenly wrapping his form as he leapt back to safety. "Poison gas!" he warned.
With a whisper, the same golden light spread to the others, shielding them.
Briva and Edgarth split to opposite flanks. Briva's bow sang, raining explosive arrows from above, while Edgarth hurled a vial filled with seething orange liquid. Twin blasts erupted, painting the battlefield with fire and burning flesh.
The rest of the abominations pushed forward, only to be caught by Elna's shadows, lashing from beneath the earth like blades, severing limbs with each strike. Beside her, Luciana's blood-forged bullets tore through flesh, riddling their enemies with countless holes.
Arlasan and his men, wrapped in an extra shield of blood conjured by Leo, plowed into the tide of abominations. Their blades carved a path, opening the way for Leo to advance.
With the road clear, Leo charged straight toward the corrupted shell of Hakkan.
Sensing the danger, Hakkan began to react, but before he could move, thorned branches erupted from the ground around him, locking him in place. In an instant he was pinned in a cruciform stance, arms and legs stretched, locked helpless in place.
Leo didn't hesitate. Thorn flared crimson in his grip as he poured his power into it. He brought the blade down in a single decisive strike, Blood Slash, zero point.
The blow carved through Hakkan's skull and body, cleaving him neatly in two. His halves collapsed with a sickening thud.
But the battle wasn't finished.
All around, the abominations screamed and then collapsed, their rotting flesh and twisted limbs being pulled as if by invisible strings. Chunks of meat, bones, and sinew swirled together, dragging themselves toward Hakkan's severed remains.
Leo leapt back, narrowly avoiding the pull.
The heap merged into something far worse: a grotesque mass larger than a three-story house. It had no true form, only a pulsating mountain of corrupted flesh straining to stay alive.
Mouths split open across its body, dozens of them, all howling in unison. The sound wasn't just noise, it was despair. A wave of weakness crashed over the group, draining strength from their limbs.
The monstrosity lurched forward, supported by too many legs bent at unnatural angles. It took a single step, then froze.
A line of golden fire ignited from within, searing up its grotesque body. Flames spread outward, splitting it clean in half. The corruption writhed, screamed, then collapsed in on itself as divine fire consumed it from the inside.
On the monster's back, Arthur stood silently.
He stepped down, calm and resolute, his voice steady. "Let's go."
Without another glance, he turned and began walking toward the shadowed city.
…
The city stretched before them, a labyrinth of jagged spires and crooked towers, their blackened silhouettes clawing at the sky. The cobblestone road twisted like an open wound, vanishing into a pall of fog that clung low and thick, carrying the stink of rot. Lantern poles lined the street like gallows, their glass shattered, their rusted frames jutting upward like bones. The buildings leaned as though they wished to collapse, their stonework split and groaning, as if even the city itself fought to stay standing.
No light stirred in the windows. No breath, no voice, only silence. It pressed in on them, smothering, heavy enough to quicken the heartbeat. And overhead, the jagged towers rose like a crown of fangs, a skyline that seemed built not for the living but for prey.
This place was not abandoned. It was condemned.
Their boots struck the stones, each step too loud in the hush. The fog slithered away from their feet like something alive, recoiling at their presence. There was no trace of Archmage Aran, as if he had been swallowed whole and erased from memories.
"Stay sharp," Arthur said, his voice cutting low through the air. Another golden sword coalesced in his hand.
Each of them kept their spells ready. Then, a flicker. Candlelight, soft and warm, pulsing behind the glass of a leaning house.
Zinfir one of the elven with them, was the first to notice. "There, someone inside!" His voice was too quick, too hopeful.
"Careful," Arlasan warned, but the elf was already moving.
He pressed close to the warped glass, peering inside. His eyes widened, and he turned back with a trembling smile. "A family! they're sitting down to eat. They're alive!"
And before anyone could stop him, he rushed to the door.
"Zinfir, wait!" Leo's voice cracked across the silence.
But the door yawned open. Zinfir stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind him like a coffin lid.
Leo sprinted forward, lungs tight. Through the window he saw it clearly, Zinfir sitting at a table, laughter spilling from his lips. A child reached for him with small hands. Parents leaned close, smiling, faces too soft, too kind. The flicker of candles painted it all in a warm glow.
Leo's fingers dug into the wood as he pushed the door open.
And the warmth shattered.
The house was empty. Hollow. The floor bowed beneath his boots, covered in centuries of dust. The air stank of mildew and age. No table. No chairs. No family. Not even Zinfir. It was as though no one had ever lived here.
A chill drilled through his bones. He staggered two steps back when a hand pressed firmly onto his shoulder. Arthur's.
"Don't look into the windows. Don't set foot inside," Arthur said, his voice like iron. "Whatever's here… it's luring us in."
Leo swallowed hard and forced himself to turn back toward the glass.
The illusion was gone. The window now reflected only the barren ruin of the room.
No trace of Zinfir remained. He had been erased, swallowed whole by the city in a single breath.
Together, they walked the winding street, their eyes fixed on the massive spire looming in the distance. Its jagged tip pierced the sky, always visible… yet no matter how long they walked, the gap between them and the building never seemed to shrink. It was as though the city itself stretched and bent, keeping them at bay.
"An illusion?" Luciana muttered, her voice tight.
"It shouldn't be," Edgarth said, pushing his glasses up. "Four illusionists among us, one of us would have broken it already."
"Or maybe you're not strong enough," she muttered.
Edgarth glare cut at her, but there was no real fire behind it.
Leo exhaled slowly. "What if we layered another illusion over it? Maybe it'll disrupt the trick."
"I can try." Ryan stepped forward, shutting his eyes. Mana rippled out of him in a wide sphere, washing over the city like a tide. For a moment, color bled back into the world, the cracked buildings straightened, lamps flickered with warm light, and flowers unfurled along the broken cobbles. The city looked alive again. Almost safe.
But then—
A wave of shadow surged from the city's heart, translucent but heavy, sweeping through them like a gale of rot. Ryan's illusions shattered instantly, the false world peeling away to reveal the jagged black husks of reality.
They barely had time to register what happened before a second wave came crashing.
Arthur's light spell flared around them, but it felt thin against the oppressive dark.
Leo thrust his hand forward, Blood Aura writhing into shape—
And then, everything shifted.
With a single blink, the street, the others, the spire, all of it was gone.
Leo staggered. He was standing in a room. Empty. Black walls pressed in on all sides, wooden but unnatural, and a single door waited ahead like a mouth in the dark. His pulse raced in his throat. Fear gnawed at his chest, not the ordinary kind but something invasive, something that slithered under his skin and coiled in his thoughts. His spells did nothing. The more he tried to smother it with illusions like Calm, the more the dread festered.
He clenched his fists, Thorn sprouting from his palm with an audible crack. 'If I'm here… then the others are trapped too.' His breath hitched. One name surged above the rest. 'Elna.'
'I have to find her… this place is worse than I thought.'
A whisper slid through his mind, soft but steady. 'Calm yourself.'
Ilandra.
He inhaled, steadying, the storm inside him slowing just enough to think.
'What is this?' he demanded inwardly.
Her voice echoed like it came from far away. 'This place is steeped in the Mad God's power. He's shaped it into a small Maze of Madness.'
Leo's eyes widened. 'A Maze of Madness.'
The fear inside him twisted sharper at the name, but his mind was clearer now. He scanned the room again, the suffocating dark, the wooden walls that seemed to breathe, the lone door ahead waiting like a threat. Slowly, he layered every protective spell he could over himself.
And then, he moved toward the door.
As his fingers brushed the handle, a sound rattled through the silence.
Knock.
He froze, hand jerking back as if burned.
Another came.
Knock. Knock.
Leo's vision spells flared to life, threads of light and shadow weaving across his eyes. Behind the door stood a childlike figure, its outline blurred, unnaturally still.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound pressed harder, but Leo stayed silent. In a place like this, even answering could mean death.
Then, without warning, the knocking erupted into a frantic pounding, as though the thing outside was trying to break the door down.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Leo exhaled through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. This isn't some horror movie, he told himself.
Drawing on his illusion and blood arts, he crafted a phantom, shaping it from his own blood until it was more than an image, more than a trick. A living shadow, pulsing faintly red.
The clone drifted forward like a bodiless wraith, seeping through the cracks of the door.
The child's head turned. Its neck bent too far, too sharp, fixing on the phantom. Then it bolted, running with a speed that made Leo's skin prickle.
The sound followed, light, hurried footsteps slapping against the unseen floor. But they didn't fade. They circled. Back and forth, faster and faster, like the thing was running in impossible loops just beyond the walls. Sometimes the steps were near the door, almost right beside him. Other times they shot upward, echoing above, as if the child were sprinting on the ceiling.
He couldn't see through the phantom's eyes, but he felt through it. His blood clouded outward from the clone, spreading like fog, each ripple mapping shapes in the dark. It was the safest way to explore, let the phantom take the risk, not him.
He summoned two more, the air heavy with their presence, then finally reached again for the handle. This time, he pulled the door open.