Later...
The thin mattress yielded beneath Kin's body, a sigh escaping his lips as the day's exhaustion pressed down like a physical weight. Darkness didn't crash over him, but rather seeped in at the edges of his awareness, blurring the corners of the small, sparsely furnished room, muffling the distant, indistinct sounds of the keep. His eyelids grew heavy, twin curtains descending on the waking world, the pull of sleep an undeniable tide drawing him under.
And in that liminal space, that soft, grey border between wakefulness and slumber, something came. Not a conjuring of the tired mind, not a fabrication of fancy, but an echo dredged from the deep, silted well of forgotten time. A memory, unexpectedly vivid, surfaced like a bubble rising from the depths.
Sunlight, thick and warm as fresh-baked bread, drenched a patch of uneven, sun-scorched grass. A much smaller Kin stood there, perhaps only four summers old, chubby legs planted wide in a determined stance. His prized possession, a wooden sword carved with more love than skill, scythed through the air in earnest, clumsy arcs. Whish! Thwack! it cut, striking only yielding air, battling invisible legions. But the silence that followed each blow felt hollow, the lack of a responding clang or a worthy opponent leaving a small, sharp ache in his chest. He lowered the sword, its tip dragging momentarily in the dirt. His small brow furrowed. "I Need... someone to practice with..." He squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting into a mask of profound concentration, tiny fists clenching at his sides as if trying to physically pull a partner from the ether. "Think! Think! Who...?"
A ripple disturbed the air before him, like heat haze shimmering reflecting off stone on a blistering day. It coalesced, drawing ambient shadows towards it, weaving them into a form that was both intimately familiar and utterly alien. A silhouette materialized, stark black against the bright backdrop of the memory, perfectly mirroring Kin's diminutive stature. It possessed no discernible features, save for two points of intense, unwavering white light where eyes should be – cold, steady pinpricks burning in the void. Its edges weren't solid but seemed to constantly bleed into the surroundings, shedding thin, undulating tendrils of luminous white mist, like ethereal steam rising from frozen darkness. It was a void that had been given shape and substance.
Awe, not fear, widened young Kin's eyes. A delighted, smile spread across his face. his wooden sword still clutched tight, and lifted his hand. "'Hi! I'm Kin.'"
The shadow offered no greeting, no acknowledgment. It merely shifted, its movement unnervingly fluid, and from the smoky, insubstantial material of its arm, an identical sword flowed into existence. Forged of solidified shadow and captured light, it drank the sunlight around it, a perfect, light-absorbing replica of his simple wooden toy. With an economy of motion that spoke of impossible skill, it lifted the shadowy blade, the tip aimed squarely at his chest. A silent, undeniable challenge.
Kin's smile didn't fade, but understanding dawned in his bright eyes. "Oh," he breathed, a puff of childish wonder. "You just wanna train?" He gripped his wooden sword tighter, instinctively mirroring the shadow's ready stance, his small body thrumming with sudden, pure excitement. "Okay! Ready!"
Then, as if connected by an invisible, vibrating string, they moved simultaneously. Tiny bare feet padded forward on the grass; indistinct shadowy appendages glided over the ground. Wooden sword raised high, ready to strike; shadow blade poised perfectly to intercept... the clash was imminent, the impact a breath away—
KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound wasn't merely heard; it was felt – a hard, percussive intrusion that shattered the fragile reality of the dreamscape. Kin's eyes snapped open. The rough-hewn beams of his window swam blearily into focus. Beneath his eyes, the skin felt tight and papery, the bruised purple smudges underneath testifying to a rest that had offered no real restoration. A dull, persistent ache pulsed behind his temples. Yet, despite that a sudden urgency propelled him upright, banishing the last vestiges of the memory. The knock came again, louder this time, insistent.
He scrambled off the bed, the cool stone floor shocking his bare feet, and yanked the door open just a crack. Master Tiren stood there, his weathered face stern, flanked by Tiren and Sye. Their expressions were set with grim determination, and the polished leather straps and burnished metal plates of their exploration gear gleamed dully in the stagnant crystal lights of the corridor. They were geared up, poised for descent. Ready.
"'One minute!'" Kin's voice was a rough, sleep-thickened croak. He shut the door with a decisive click, frantic scramble erupting within him.
The next sixty seconds descended into a comical ballet of groggy urgency. Adrenaline surged, battling valiantly against the clinging tendrils of sleep inertia. He snatched his undershirt, yanking it frantically over his head... only to find his face pressed against the rough, irritating back seam, the tag scratching insistently at his nose. A muffled groan of frustration escaped him. He wrestled the offending garment off, stumbling slightly, nearly tripping over his own feet as the fabric twisted around his arms like an angry linen serpent. Round two: shirt on correctly, breath coming in short pants. Next, the padded tunic – he jammed one arm through the correct hole, then flailed momentarily, searching for the other, momentarily convinced the tunic had developed a sudden, malicious sentience and sealed the opening shut during the night. Found it. Boots. He hopped precariously on one foot, pulling on the left boot, lost his precarious balance, and staggered sideways with a wince, bumping his shoulder against the stone wall with a soft thud. He glared at the innocent boot as if it were personally responsible. The right boot went on with slightly less drama. Straps and buckles, usually simple, now seemed like intricate puzzles designed by a mischievous god. His fingers felt thick and clumsy, fumbling with a clasp, dropping it with a soft clink, snatching it up, and finally securing it.
He paused, chest heaving slightly. Took a deep, steadying breath, the cool air sharp in his lungs. Ran a hand through his wildly sleep-tousled hair, attempting to impose some semblance of order. He gave his belt a final, reassuring tug. The heavy fog of sleep was rapidly receding, burned away by the cold focus of the impending mission. The dream, the fatigue – pushed aside. He was ready.
Kin swung the door open wide, meeting the waiting eyes of his companions.
The heavy wooden door of Kin's quarters shut with a dull thud behind them, sealing them into the hushed anticipation of the corridor.
They gathered in the illumination streaming from luminous crystals set into the walls, reaching the main door, a persistent cool glow that painted their gear in definite lines, static pools of shade behind them onto the polished wooden floor.
They moved towards the descent point, their purposeful strides creating a rhythmic counterpoint to the cavern's ambient resonance. The elevator stood ready. They stepped inside, the smooth floor cool beneath their boots. As the doors began to whisper shut sealing them within the confined space, Tiren turned his attention to the Master. The older man was already reaching for the control panel set into the wall, his finger moving towards the smooth, dark button designated for the shaft's base level – labeled simply, 'G'. Just before the Master pressed it, Tiren pitched his voice discreetly, ensuring it wouldn't carry beyond the car. "Will Senen be coming?"
The Master's answer came without hesitation, his attention fixed forward. "He needs more time." A brief beat. "He'll meet us later, further down."
The response settled the matter. Reaching the first layer of Sky City, Tiren gave a minute nod. Sye's expression was already distant, her mind clearly on the task ahead. Kin felt the last vestiges of his dream dissipate, replaced by the undeniable pressure of the mission. A unified, unspoken agreement rippled through the group. They reached the archway, a passage carved directly into the dungeon's fabric leading to the 26th floor, and proceeded through.
Immediately, the pervasive thrum of Sky City began to recede, absorbed by the immense stone and increasing distance. The background sounds of the metropolis lessened, fading into a profound subterranean quietude.
broken only by the granular crunch of their boots on the trail, the startlingly clear plink of water droplets falling from atop Sky City. The air grew denser, cooler, carrying the clean scent of mineral deposits and damp rock, unlike the circulated air above.
The crystal light sources here seemed more isolated, placed at greater intervals. This created elongated stretches of darkness between pools of visibility, making their own forms stretch and reform as they passed through the light. They navigated the familiar route until reaching a raw split in the tunnel wall. They maneuvered through the tight gap sequentially, the rough stone grazing their equipment, immersing them in a moment of profound blackness before they stepped out into another tunnel system. The feel of the air here was subtly altered, the quiet even more complete.
Kin blinked, letting his vision adjust to the illumination levels. "That was quick" he commented, glancing back towards the constricted opening.They continued onward, the path tilting downward before expanding. A disagreeable new element tainted the cool air – a musty, feral odor blended with something biting and acidic. An involuntary ripple of unease went through Kin an instant before the source revealed itself.
The tunnel disgorged them into the dungeons main pathway. And occupying the center, effectively obstructing further progress, was a hulking terror. It stood upon six thick, articulated limbs ending in lethally pointed claws that scored the rock floor with each minor shift. Its hide, a discolored patchwork of grey and unhealthy green, seemed stretched taut over bundles of roiling muscle. Two distinct, serpentine necks twisted, allowing the twin reptilian heads to survey the newcomers independently. Their jaws, bristling with needle-fine teeth, parted in tandem, releasing strings of viscous drool that sizzled faintly upon hitting the stone. Across the two heads, four pairs of small, crimson eyes burned with a cold malevolence. The creature's sheer physical volume seemed to compress the air in the cavern, radiating waves of possessive fury and base hunger.
Tiren and Sye instantly adopted guarded stances, their readiness evident in their posture, hands near their weapons. However, the Master appeared completely at ease. A quiet expulsion of breath, bordering on amusement, escaped him. "So," he observed, his voice level, almost conversational, "the 31st floor greets us..."
His attention remained entirely on the dual-headed monstrosity, his eyes narrowed in assessment. A slight, knowing smile touched his features. He began to ease out of his heavy outer coat, the tough material rustling softly. He offered it to Kin, his gaze never breaking contact with the beast. "Hold this for me."
Kin had barely registered taking the coat when the Master advanced, placing himself squarely between his team and the snarling creature. He rotated his shoulders, the motion fluid, generating soft articular pops in the tense atmosphere. Then, with deliberate care, he moved his head – chin dipping to his chest, then tilting back to stretch his neck, followed by slow lateral tilts, ear towards each shoulder. The movements were almost meditative. A final, distinct crackle sounded as he returned his head to neutral, now comfortably inside the monster's immediate reach, the faint, unsettling smile still present.
"Alright," he murmured, the word carrying clearly beneath the wet, guttural growls of the beast. "I guess it's my turn."
The Master didn't stalk or charge; he glided forward, closing the distance with an unnerving, fluid grace. The twin-headed beast, initially poised to rip and tear, visibly faltered. Its guttural snarls caught, the reptilian brains clearly struggling to reconcile the sheer, predatory confidence radiating from the small figure approaching with the lack of any overt threat display. Instinct screamed danger, but the Master's calm was a confusing counter-signal.
Then, action exploded. Faster than the eye could comfortably track, the Master surged the final few feet. He didn't strike upwards; instead, his hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in the coarse, matted fur below one chin. With a violent, twisting yank, he dragged the struggling head downwards, forcing it towards his level with astonishing strength.
WHACK!
The sound wasn't a mere slap; it was a thunderclap condensed, a brutal report that shook the dungeons walls. His open palm connected with the side of the first head with contemptuous force, snapping it sideways, eyes rolling back momentarily.
CRACK!
Before the first head could even process the blow, his hand reversed its trajectory in a vicious backhand, striking the second head with equal, shocking power.
The beast staggered, stunned, both heads momentarily dazed by the sheer audacity and power of the assault. Before it could recover, in that split second of disorientation, the Master didn't release his hold but shifted it. His fingers, lightning-quick, slid from the fur beneath the first chin to clamp down firmly on the tough, scaled hide at the back of the first head's skull. Anchoring himself with this brutal grip, his body went low and then exploded upwards. His knee drove skyward in a perfect, devastating lift, powered by the leverage gained from pulling the beast's head down towards the impact. It connected savagely with the underside of the first head's jaw – the one he'd initially pulled down. A crunch of shattering bone resonated through the cavern. The head was thrown back at an unnatural angle, jaw clearly broken and hanging slack, useless.
As the Master descended, balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet, the second head, shaking off its daze with a furious hiss, lunged. Jaws wide, needle-teeth aimed for his throat, driven by primal pain and rage.
The Master's hand moved with blinding speed, seizing the tough, pointed flap of the beast's ear. His other hand, flattened into a rigid blade, chopped down with brutal finality onto the exposed vertebrae at the base of the skull.
SNAP!
The sound was sharp, definitive. All four pairs of crimson eyes went instantly dim. The immense body seemed to deflate, all tension vanishing in an instant. It crashed to the stone floor with the sodden thud of a dropped side of meat.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint sizzle of the beast's saliva on the stone.
Tiren, Kin, and Sye stood frozen, mouths slightly agape, eyes wide with disbelief. They had seen the Master fight, known his power, but the sheer, disdainful efficiency of the dispatch – the raw speed and power delivered with such nonchalant ease – was breathtaking.
The silence was broken. From the deeper darkness ringing the cavern, a cacophony erupted. Low, guttural roars, identical to the fallen beast's, echoed from multiple directions. Shadows detached themselves from the deeper gloom, resolving into more hulking, six-legged forms. Pairs of hateful crimson eyes ignited in the blackness, multiplying – three, five, then seemingly countless more, pressing in from the cavern edges.
The Master didn't flinch. He didn't even glance back at his stunned companions. Instead, the faint, calculating smile already on his lips widened, blooming into a grin of genuine, predatory delight. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp against the rising growls.
He took a single, deliberate step forward, towards the encroaching tide of monstrosities, disappearing willingly into the thick of the advancing shadows and snarling jaws.