The climb was endless.
The man walked, each step being heavier than the last as the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him like chains.
The tower's spiral staircase stretched upward, winding through a space that seemed to defy sense—sometimes narrow and claustrophobic, other times vast, opening into hollow chambers .
The dagger burned in his grip, its white flames guttering weakly, as if reflecting his own dwindling strength. He had been fighting for what felt like hours.
The creatures here were relentless, twisting, forms that lashed out with clawed hands and gnashing teeth, their hollow faces shifting with barely recognizable features. They attacked in silence, save for the wet slithering of their movements and the occasional, distorted echoes of voices that were not his own.
He killed one. Then another. Then another. Each strike of the dagger cut through their forms, the white flames flaring briefly before the creatures dissipated into ashen mist.
But they were endless, and he was tiring. His movements slowed. His grip wavered. The cuts and bruises that littered his body throbbed with every motion.
One of them lunged from the side, catching him off guard. A claw raked across his arm, tearing fabric and flesh. He stumbled, hissing in pain, barely managing to bring the dagger up in time to drive it into the creature's core. The flames roared, consuming the thing instantly, but his balance faltered. He fell against the wall, his breath ragged.
He couldn't keep this up.
His eyes flicked up the staircase. The end was still out of sight, the stone steps disappearing into shadow. His legs screamed at him to stop, to rest, but he knew if he paused for too long, they would overwhelm him.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up and kept moving. One step. Then another.
The creatures did not stop coming. They slithered from the cracks in the walls, emerged from the shadows in the corners, always waiting, always watching. His swings became wilder, more desperate. A missed strike almost cost him his throat, the creature's claws barely missing as he jerked away at the last second. His own blood slicked the steps beneath him, making his footing unsteady.
At some point, he lost count of how many he had killed. It didn't matter. All that mattered was climbing. Surviving.
His vision blurred. His breaths were sharp and shallow. His arms felt numb. He wasn't sure if he was sweating or bleeding more, but neither boded well. And yet, through the haze of exhaustion and pain, the dagger's glow remained steady, unwavering.
A final set of steps loomed ahead, leading to a doorway bathed in pale light. The top?
He didn't have time to consider it. The largest creature yet pulled itself from the shadows behind him, a towering, amorphous mass of limbs, eyes and teeth. It let out a piercing shriek, so high pitched it was almost unaudible, the sheer pressure of its presence making his skull throb. His knees nearly buckled.
It lunged.
The man managed to barely avoid the attack by jumping away. As he felt his vision blurred from all the action and his blood loss he knew something had to be done. He quickly cauterized the wound using the blade of the weapon before continuing the fight.
Although this beast was much larger it was also slower , though one hit would probably end him. The man quickly thought of a strategy to get rid of it.
Suddenly, he staggered. His endurance was running out. He tried too fight it back, he didn't want to die in such a horrible place.
He felt a strange strength take hold of his body for a few moments later, its presence replenishing his body and filling it with renewed strength and warmth.
Im this instant He managed to dodge through its attacks.
He didn't think—he just reacted. He twisted, raising the dagger and driving it forward with all the strength he had left. The blade buried deep, and the white flames erupted from its torso, engulfing the creature. It writhed soundlessly, its countless eyes flickering like dying embers before it finally dissolved into nothing.
The force of the strike sent him staggering back. His foot met empty air. For a terrifying second, he thought he was going to fall—until his free hand caught the edge of the doorway. He barely had the strength to pull himself through before collapsing onto the cold floor beyond.
Silence.
No more creatures. No more stairs. Just the dull pulse of the dagger in his palm and the feeling of solid ground beneath him.
He had made it. Barely.