The stairway before them spiraled downward, its edges worn smooth by time. A strange luminescence traced the carvings on the walls, casting eerie shadows as Alex, Soren, and Nyssa moved cautiously forward. The air grew thick, heavy with the weight of forgotten history.
Nyssa ran her fingers along the inscriptions. "This place is older than we thought. The magic here… it's different."
Alex nodded. The closer they got to the heart of the ruins, the stronger the pull he felt from the relic. It wasn't just guiding them—it was calling something.
Soren halted suddenly, holding up a hand. "Something's waiting for us down there. I can feel it."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Then we'd better be ready."
They pressed on, the passage opening into a vast underground chamber. A massive altar stood at the center, glowing with runes of power. And at its base—
"A body?" Nyssa whispered, eyes widening.
The corpse, clad in tattered armor, sat slumped against the altar. But as they approached, its skeletal fingers twitched.
Soren drew his blade instantly. "That's never a good sign."
The remains stirred, ancient mana crackling around them. Slowly, impossibly, the figure lifted its head, empty sockets glowing with an eerie blue light.
"Who… dares…?" a voice rasped, reverberating through the chamber.
Alex stepped forward, his grip tightening on his sword. "We seek the truth. The truth about the Saints. The truth about what happened to our ancestors."
The figure let out a low, rattling laugh. "Truth…? You are not ready for it."
Without warning, a surge of mana erupted from the corpse, shaking the chamber. The walls cracked, debris falling around them as spectral warriors emerged from the shadows. Their eyes burned with the same eerie glow, and their weapons shimmered with deadly intent.
Nyssa cursed. "We have to fight!"
The first warrior lunged at Alex, but he was ready. Mana flared around him as he sidestepped the attack, countering with a burst of fire that consumed the spirit in an instant. Soren met another enemy head-on, their blades clashing in a storm of sparks. Nyssa danced between foes, her daggers flashing as she struck with lethal precision.
But the undead kept coming.
Alex's eyes locked onto the ancient warrior at the altar. If they wanted to end this, they had to take down the source.
He charged, mana crackling around his blade. "Tell me the truth, or I'll carve it out of you!"
The warrior lifted a skeletal hand, summoning a massive spear of raw energy. "Then prove you are worthy."
The relic in Alex's pouch flared to life, resonating with the warrior's mana. As their weapons clashed, a vision flooded Alex's mind—a glimpse of a time long past, of Saints and humans standing as equals before betrayal shattered their alliance.
His blood boiled. The Saints had stolen everything.
With a roar, he unleashed a surge of energy, shattering the warrior's weapon and sending the figure crashing to the ground. The spectral soldiers vanished, their magic dissipating.
The chamber fell silent.
The warrior looked up at Alex, his glowing eyes dimming. "Perhaps… you are worthy after all. The truth… is buried deeper. Follow the path… before it is too late."
With that, the figure crumbled into dust, and the altar's glow faded. A new passage revealed itself behind it—a gateway to even darker secrets.
Soren exhaled sharply. "Of course, it's never that simple."
Nyssa sheathed her daggers. "We keep going. No matter what's ahead."
Alex took a steadying breath and stepped forward. "Then let's finish what they started."