Belial knew that the top floor of the catacombs harbored a horde of monsters, all taking shelter in the vast, oppressive chamber. The real problem, however, was not just their sheer numbers—but the fact that both predator and prey species had gathered together, an uneasy truce born from desperation.
He recalled there being only a dozen or so creatures, a number he could handle, even in their weakened state. But as they ascended the final set of stairs and arrived at the top floor—the ground level of the catacomb—his heart sank.
He had been wrong.
The chamber was massive, stretching beyond the reach of their Bioluminecent light, and filled with far more creatures than he had anticipated. At least twice the number he had expected, and among them were Five Pentacores and several volatile fiends, their grotesque forms twitching in anticipation. But what truly unsettled him were the two additional monstrosities that loomed over the battlefield.
One of them had four massive horns—two rising vertically from its skull, the other two jutting outward like a beast prepared to gore anything in its path. It moved on four powerful legs, its muscles thick and corded beneath its dark hide. Jagged spikes—bone, or perhaps something more unnatural—jutted from its joints, while its tail ended in a barbed whip. Its glowing yellow eyes radiated an intelligence that sent a cold shiver down Belial's spine. But it wasn't the unknown that disturbed him most.
He knew exactly what it was.
A Trivium.
The second creature stood on its hind legs, towering over the others. Its singular eye was smaller than expected, sunken into a face stretched too thin, its mouth grotesquely oversized. Jagged, scythe-like fangs jutted out horizontally, protruding from either side of its jaw, their edges slick with gore. It swayed, moving with an unnatural grace, the low gurgling growl from its throat sending a pulse of dread through the air.
He forgot what the creatures name was. Lets just called them Scythes.
The monsters weren't just lurking. They were already slaughtering each other.
The chamber was a nightmarish arena, blood pooling in grotesque rivers along the cracked stone floor. The air was thick with the sickening stench of torn flesh, and the wet, visceral sounds of rending meat and snapping bone echoed through the cavernous space. Limbs twitched where they had been severed, and bodies convulsed even as they were consumed.
A volatile fiend shrieked as a Pentacore's tail impaled it, lifting the writhing creature into the air before smashing it into the ground with a sickening crunch. Meanwhile, the Trivium had engaged a pack of smaller beasts, its barbed tail lashing out and slicing them apart like an executioner's blade. The one-eyed horror stood motionless for a moment, its twisted mouth opening impossibly wide before it lunged forward, tearing a fiend in half in a single, grotesque bite.
Who wouldn't? Belial thought grimly.
Trapped together, starving, and desperate—this was what happened. Even monsters had survival instincts, and in this hellhole, only the strongest would remain standing.
Raven exhaled sharply beside him. "This… is a damn nightmare."
The young girlyoung girl swallowed hard, gripping her dagger until her knuckles turned white. "How… how do we even get through that?"
Belial didn't answer. He was still assessing, searching for a path, a strategy—anything that would get them past this bloodbath alive. But deep down, he already knew.
This was going to be a hell of a mess.
"We get through it by not dying," Raven said, his voice grim yet steady. The three warriors steeled themselves, knowing that charging recklessly into the chaos would only end in exhaustion—or worse, death. They moved with calculated precision, striking only when necessary, conserving their dwindling energy.
Belial gripped his curved longsword, Bloodfang, feeling its familiar weight in his hand. The weapon had been his companion through countless battles, its edge keen and thirsty for blood. Raven, clad in his full-body black armor, clenched his fists—reinforced with a material as tough as diamond. He had no need for weapons; his own hands were enough to crush bone and shatter armor. The young girl, the youngest of the trio, held her dagger close, her small but agile frame making her a deadly opportunist in the fray. She never struck first, only when she saw an opening.
They advanced carefully, their steps deliberate, watching as the monsters continued to tear into each other. It was a grotesque display of survival—limbs were torn, flesh devoured, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood. The weaker creatures were already being culled by the more monstrous predators, allowing the three to maneuver through the battlefield with minimal engagement.
A fiend lunged at Belial from the side, its elongated claws swiping for his throat. With a practiced motion, he twisted, bringing Bloodfang up in a clean arc. The blade met flesh, slicing through the creature's arm in one fluid movement. It howled in agony, but before it could retreat, Raven was there. A single, devastating punch caved its ribcage inward, sending the beast flying into a crumbling pillar.
Another surged toward The young girl, its jagged fangs snapping. She sidestepped with dancer-like grace, her dagger flashing in the dim light. A quick slice to its exposed tendon sent it sprawling, and Belial finished it off with a precise thrust to the throat.
More creatures turned their attention toward them, sensing easy prey. They were wrong.
Raven took point, his armored fists acting as shields and weapons alike. A monstrous brute twice his size swung a massive club-like limb at him, but he met it head-on, his diamond-reinforced gauntlets colliding with sickening force. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, and the creature's arm snapped like brittle wood. It let out a guttural roar before Raven ended its misery with a crushing blow to the skull.
Belial fought with lethal elegance, Bloodfang an extension of his own body. His strikes were precise, never wasted. A Pentacore lashed its whip-like tail at him, but he ducked low, slicing through the appendage before rolling forward and driving his sword into its belly. He wrenched the blade free just in time to parry another strike, his instincts razor-sharp.
The young girl moved between them, waiting for the right moments. When a beast staggered from one of Raven's devastating hits, she was there, her dagger slipping between its ribs with practiced efficiency. When Belial's opponent reeled from a deep slash, she darted in, severing an exposed artery before retreating just as quickly.
They continued forward, never wasting energy, never taking unnecessary risks. The monsters seemed endless, but they fought only those that engaged them directly, weaving through the chaos like specters of death.
Finally, they neared the exit—a massive door way, ancient and weathered. But in front of it sat a Pentacore unlike the others. It was larger, its body covered in thick, armored plating, its three tails coiled like serpents ready to strike. Its many eyes watched them, unblinking.
Belial exhaled. "Don't worry about that one just yet."
Raven and The young girl exchanged glances but nodded. If Belial said to leave it, they would.
Monsters—creatures with grotesque, jagged forms—were tearing into each other with astonishing ferocity, their savage claws and fangs ripping through flesh in an endless frenzy. The air reeked of blood and something fouler, something ancient. In the midst of it all, Belial, Raven, and the young girl stood frozen, their attention split between the chaos around them and the growing awareness that the monsters' gaze was slowly shifting toward them.
Then, two Triviums—a pair of sinuous, many-limbed creatures with elongated skulls and cruel, hooked talons—slithered forward, their abyssal eyes locked on the towering form of the armored Pentacore. The massive beast, plated in thick, obsidian-like armor, rose with a slow, deliberate motion. It exuded an aura of raw menace, its five gaping maws dripping with acidic saliva that sizzled as it hit the ground.
A sudden burst of searing light flooded the chamber, casting long, jagged shadows along the walls. The monsters recoiled from it but did not relent, continuing to tear into each other with unrestrained brutality.
A massive, horned beast lunged at another, its jagged tusks impaling the soft underbelly of its foe. A sickening squelch echoed through the room as the victim screeched, its massive bat-like wings flaring wildly before it retaliated with serrated claws, slashing deep into its attacker's throat. Dark ichor sprayed across the ground, sizzling where it landed.
To the left, a writhing mass of tentacles and eyes—an abomination of fused, screaming faces—wrapped its sinewy appendages around a towering, skeletal creature. The skeletal beast struggled, its elongated fingers trying to tear through the tentacles, but the abomination only tightened its grip, twisting bones with sickening cracks. The skeletal monster let out a soundless scream before its spine snapped in two, and the abomination dragged the corpse into its endless mass, consuming it whole.
Another battle raged between a six-limbed beast with chitinous plating and a pack of slithering, shadow-like entities with fanged maws stretching far too wide. The plated beast swung a massive, spiked limb, crushing one of the shadows, but the others darted around it, their distorted forms flickering unnaturally. One of them leapt onto the beast's back, sinking its dagger-like teeth into the exposed flesh between its armor. The plated beast roared and twisted violently, slamming itself into the stone wall, cracking it. The shadow-creature's body crumpled, but more swarmed in, relentless and hungry.
The floor was slick with gore, the ground trembling beneath the ceaseless combat. And yet, amid the bloodbath, the young girl's sharp eyes caught something—the faintest glimpse of an opening. An escape.
She tugged at Belial's arm, her voice urgent. "There's a way out!"
Belial, however, didn't move. His gaze, cold and calculating, remained fixed on the battlefield. His grip on her wrist tightened. "Not yet."
Before the girl could protest, a chilling sensation crawled up her spine. She turned her head, her breath catching in her throat.
Four of the Scythes—a nightmarish brood of creatures with elongated, skeletal limbs and scythe-like appendages for arms and teeth—had stopped fighting. Their eyeless, gaping maws lined their torsos, filled with writhing, needle-like teeth, dripping with saliva that hissed as it hit the ground. Their bodies trembled with anticipation as they turned their focus entirely to the three of them.
Then, they moved.
A blur of razored limbs and snapping jaws, closing in with horrifying speed.