A cold shiver ran down Kaladin's back like someone dumped ghost-flavored soda on his spine.
"S-So... let me get this straight. I just go inside this ancient murder-castle, find your special thing, and come out alive?"
He stared up at the massive doors, half-expecting them to creak open with a "WELCOME TO YOUR DOOM" sign hanging above.
Because yeah—this definitely felt like a trap.
Death chuckled.
"Ha ha, little Timmy, don't be so naive, baby gurl. This castle? Oh, sweet summer child… it doesn't have the thing you want or I want. No, no. This place is just a giant meat grinder with pretty curtains—a test to see which Champions are fit for this world, and which ones get yeeted into the failure bin."
Kaladin turned to stare at Death like he'd just been told the Wi-Fi password was a lie.
"A... culling machine?"
Gulp.
DING! DONG!
Another ominous bell rang, echoing through the air like a countdown.
Death clapped his hands together with glee.
"Chop-chop, baby gurl. We're on the clock. But before you dive headfirst into murder-palooza, here—one last gift from your dearest, most trustworthy, definitely-not-scammy friend..."
He raised the katana.
The same katana that had previously turned Kaladin into a human kebab.
Kaladin stared at it, then at Death's too-cheerful grin, then back at the sword like it was a dog turd wrapped in gift paper.
"That's—mmm…"
He bit his tongue. Arguing with this man was like punching fog—pointless and exhausting. So he took the katana with the enthusiasm of someone accepting a used sock.
"Thank you...most trusted dear friend. I... appreciate it."
"As you should, dear little Timmy. As you should."
Death gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder, like a coach sending his star player into a game of dodgeball where the balls were made of lava and shame.
"Alrighty, we can't waste any more time standing here like confused pigeons. Up you go…"
Death stepped behind Kaladin and gave him a gentle shove up the stairs, like a mom nudging her kid toward school on exam day.
Kaladin sighed and went along with it, shaking his head like a man walking into a dentist's office with no anesthesia.
"And while we walk, yours truly will bestow upon you some top-tier life advice."
Death said, his tone suddenly shifting from chaotic cult leader to wise old grandpa who's seen some things.
"One: Never trust anyone inside that castle. I don't care if they look like a lost puppy or a crying baby—they're not regular humans anymore.
"They've been juiced up by their sugar-daddy gods and come packed with Blessings. So keep your eyes open and your butt clenched, always."
Kaladin nodded slowly, licking his lips.
"Two: The castle's not a maze—it's a puzzle box from hell. It'll test your body, your mind, and probably your ability to not cry in public. So whatever you do, think before you act."
Kaladin raised a hand like a student in class.
"But can't you just tell me what's inside? Give me a cheat sheet or something?"
Death shrugged with a grin.
"Ha! Good question. But sadly, no. This world is magical—and I mean the kind of magical where logic goes on vacation. Every time a new batch of Champions arrive, the inside of the castle changes.
"So I got no clue what fresh nightmare is waiting in there."
Silence fell like a wet blanket. They were at the final steps now, the massive doors of the castle looming ahead like a rich uncle with bad intentions.
Kaladin's heart was pounding so loud it could've qualified as a drumline. Then Death gave him one last nudge, took his hand off Kaladin's back, and stepped away.
"Go on, little Timmy. I'll see you on the other side... if you don't get turned into magical soup first."
Kaladin took one shaky step forward—
RUMMMMBBBLE.
The castle doors creaked open all by themselves like some ancient automatic doors from a medieval Walmart. Dust puffed out like the place hadn't seen a vacuum in a thousand years.
He gulped hard enough to feel it in his knees.
Dark.
Pitch black. Like someone shoved him into the bellybutton of the universe and forgot to pay the electric bill.
He turned around for one last glance, squinting toward Death who was still standing dramatically on the steps like a gothic life coach.
"Wait—what exactly am I even supposed to be looking for?"
Death clapped his hands like a proud kindergarten teacher.
"Oh, don't worry your edgy little head. Everything you wanna know, you'll find out inside.One way or another. Just remember—everyone in there is also a 'Champion,' which means they've been spoon-fed a bunch of stuff by their own godly sugar-parents.
"So don't go believing everything you hear, okay? Salt it. Salt everything."
"..."
"..."
The silence between them was so thick it could've been sliced and served as mystery meat.
Kaladin inhaled the fresh evening air one last time, looked at the golden horizon, then back at Death.
He gave a little nod—the kind of nod a guy gives before diving headfirst into a swimming pool full of flaming piranhas.
He didn't understand what was happening. He didn't know why he was chosen. Or how any of this made sense. But he knew one thing:
This was his second chance.
And dammit, he wasn't gonna waste it. Not this time.
He straightened his spine like he'd just remembered he had one, tightened his grip on the katana and marched forward.
The doors slowly groaned shut behind him with a finality that sounded suspiciously like a coffin lid.
Death stood there for a moment, watching Kaladin's silhouette vanish into the dark like the intro to a very questionable RPG.
"Same story, different kid... always the same damn thing."
He sighed like a middle manager at the end of a 12-hour shift, stared at the sky like it owed him rent, and then—
Snap!
He disappeared like a magician who was so over this act.