Chapter 37: Hairline Fracture
Atlas shivered through the dark night, every muscle tense, his senses stretched thin. Deep down, he knew struggling against that creature was futile—it was Ivan who had saved him. Only Ivan could.
As dawn broke, they left the cave. The first thing Atlas noticed was the silence. Absolute and suffocating, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The second thing he noticed was the blood—thick, smeared across the ground, painting a grotesque mural to some forgotten god.
Flesh, monstrous and unrecognizable, was strewn across their path in ragged chunks.
Atlas shuddered, a cold knot forming in his chest. It could have been them.
The silence was broken by a wet, guttural sound. Ivan was coughing up blood, his steps growing more sluggish as they walked. Aether flickered around his wound, its vibrant purple battling tendrils of sinister black. The two colors clashed and coiled like serpents, neither willing to relent.
It was clear—the injury wasn't going to heal easily.
Atlas felt a strange mixture of gratitude and unease. Ivan had thrown himself between Atlas and that creature, allowing him to seize the key. But even now, some instinct warned him not to fully trust the man. There was something Ivan wasn't saying—something lurking behind those tired eyes.
Their destination wasn't far now: a massive waterfall that thundered like an endless drumbeat. It cascaded into what looked like a sea of clouds below. Lightning crackled above, threading through the heavy storm clouds that refused to leave the sky.
Ivan kept quiet for most of the journey. His silence was a heavy shroud draped over them both until nightfall arrived once again.
Before the sun fully disappeared and the creatures of the dark began to stir, Ivan acted. Muttering about fate and gods, he knelt and began scratching intricate symbols into the dirt. The markings glowed faintly with Aether, their meaning lost on Atlas.
Ivan gestured for him to step into the center of the circle. As Atlas obeyed, Ivan raised his uninjured hand, and a dome of shimmering Aether enveloped them. The world outside turned gray and distant, and the air grew thick, almost syrupy, with power.
Ivan exhaled sharply, his face drawn with exhaustion.
"This, my dear vessel, is where we shall sleep tonight. After that… thing… We were blessed to survive. Hiding in caves won't work again, not against something like that."
He sat down heavily, his breath uneven.
"I've carved out a crude pocket of safety here. If anything touches this barrier, it'll shatter instantly, and we'll be exposed. But let's hope fate is kind tonight."
With that, Ivan lay on his side, eyes slipping shut almost immediately.
Atlas sat down as well, staring into the gray void beyond their fragile sanctuary. Thoughts came unbidden, flowing like poison into his mind.
It was too much.
When he first entered the trial, he had tried to simplify things: survive, kill, move forward. His actions had been cold, calculated—he'd murdered without hesitation, manipulated without remorse. But with every passing day, that persona was cracking. He felt it in every shaky breath, in every moment his hands trembled without reason.
The trial was eating him alive.
He had become something unrecognizable, paranoid, ruthless, hollow. Was this who he truly was? Or was it just a frightened child's coping mechanism in a world where weakness meant death?
Somewhere in the fog of his thoughts, he noticed movement.
A small creature scuttled along a branch above. A squirrel, or something like one. Its fur was obsidian black, its eyes glowing crimson. Tiny fangs protruded from its mouth, gleaming wetly in the dim light.
Before Atlas could react, the air shattered with sound, a sharp crack, followed by a ringing hum.
The squirrel was gone. A smear of blood remained where it had been moments ago.
Atlas froze.
A few meters away, hunched over the remains of its prey, stood it. The same creature from the temple. Its long, jackal-like legs flexed with unnatural power, its skeletal frame wrapped in flowing shadows. Its horns twisted skyward, and its pure white eyes scanned the surroundings with a predator's precision.
Atlas didn't dare breathe.
The creature turned, its hollow gaze locking onto him.
Atlas' heart stopped.
It took one step forward. Then another. Its long, clawed hand dragged lazily along the ground, leaving deep gouges in the dirt.
Atlas squeezed his eyes shut, his breath caught in his throat.
For a brief, eternal moment, there was only silence.
Then—CRACK.
The air split again as the creature vanished, leaping into the night with impossible speed.
Atlas gasped, lungs desperate for air.
His body trembled as he lay down, forcing his eyes closed. That thing wasn't just a monster—it was an apex predator. Its speed, its awareness, its hunger… it was something he couldn't fathom.
And Ivan… Ivan had stood in its way.
Atlas felt something break deep within him—a hairline fracture along the brittle surface of his sanity.
This trial wasn't just about survival. It was about endurance. And he wasn't sure how much more he had left to give.
Come morning he wanted to escape this hell with Ivan back into the ocean, but who knows what horrors lay there they could merely be escaping into something more horrifying.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone