With a "ding," the elevator came to a halt, and its doors slowly slid open.
A cold wind rushed in, carrying a metallic stench.
Erich pushed the food cart out of the elevator. Before him lay an extremely long corridor. Cold-toned light poured down from overhead, illuminating the entire hallway as bone-white. There were no rooms on either side of the corridor; instead, the walls were covered in relief sculptures, one after another, protruding outward as if trying to break free from the stone.
On the first relief, a giant-like man was tearing a frail figure in half. Blood splattered across the faces of the surrounding onlookers, yet they wore smiles.
On the second, the same giant sat atop a pile of corpses, holding something up to his mouth to eat.
The third, the fourth... every single relief depicted scenes of sheer brutality, without exception.
The grooves of these reliefs were filled with a dark brown substance—dried blood, layered upon layer, so thick in some places that it nearly filled the carvings to the brim.
Erich pushed the food cart to the side of the wall and left it there. The chef's corpse still lay in the elevator. The food on the cart emitted the aroma of meat.
The aroma made Erich frown. He pushed the cart a bit further away, then turned and walked alone toward the end of the corridor.
His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. Erich seemed to hear a sound in his ears—a low, oppressive melody played by some kind of wind instrument.
He listened closely, but heard nothing, yet the feeling was undeniably there. It was just like in a video game: a corridor leading to a boss room, complete with pre-battle music to let the player prepare, check their gear, save the game, or go use the restroom.
Since the atmosphere had been set, Erich unfastened his black robe, revealing the form-fitting uniform underneath. He then did a few stretches, warmed up his neck and wrists, and finally went ahead and performed a full set of radio gymnastics.
With his warm-up complete, he continued forward.
At the end of the corridor stood a massive double door. Exquisite patterns were carved onto its surface—intricate vines and beasts interwoven, with a giant skull motif at the center.
The door's original dark gold color had been covered by layers of dried blood, and the original hue could only be faintly discerned from a few worn edges.
Erich reached out and pressed against the door. The two panels slowly swung open with a heavy, grinding sound, and a thick stench of blood rushed over him.
Behind the doors was a colossal room, far too spacious to seem like the top floor of a tower. The vaulted ceiling was extremely high, and the stone pillars supporting the room were wrapped in reliefs of the exact same style as the corridor. The room was illuminated by torches mounted on the walls, their flickering flames casting an orange-red glow that painted the space in shifting shadows.
At the deepest part of the room, directly facing the entrance, stood a massive throne cast from some dark metal, its backrest embedded with sharp spikes.
A colossal figure sat on the throne, holding a piece of something in his hands, head lowered as he gnawed on it, juices dripping down his chin and onto his chest.
Garein.
His physique was even more massive than when Erich had seen him in the tavern. His muscles bulged, knotted veins mapping his arms, and his dark gray skin was covered in old scars. He was bare-chested, his chest covered in steel-needle-like hair.
Several food carts were piled in front of him, some with their covers thrown open, the food inside gnawed to pieces, bones scattered all over the floor.
Hearing the sound of the doors opening, Garein raised his head, his cloudy yellow eyes fixing on the entrance:
“Where is my dish?”
Looking at the mountain of food carts and the bones on the floor in front of Garein, Erich suddenly thought of a question.
How did this guy get here so fast?
Erich had spent so much time traveling from the City of the Undead to this place, yet Garein seemed to have returned long ago, already polishing off several carts of food.
But it didn't matter anymore. Either way, this answer would be buried in the grave along with Garein.
Erich raised his hand slightly. Guided by his mana, the two large doors behind him slowly closed with a heavy thud. He casually unclipped the staff from his waist and drove it into the ground behind him.
With empty hands, Erich took step after step toward Garein:
“What a pity. I threw your dish away. As compensation, I've decided to send you to meet the great Lord of Death.”
Garein finally realized that his visitor harbored ill intent. He slowly stood up, reaching behind his throne to pull out a massive spiked club. The weapon was covered in rusty iron spikes that gleamed with a dark red luster under the firelight:
“A mage, throwing away his staff to walk toward me. I wonder if eating your flesh will lower my intelligence.”
The mana inside Erich's body accelerated its flow, pouring savage strength into every corner of his limbs, causing his muscles to swell and his blood to boil.
Garein slung the spiked club over his shoulder, his massive body leaning forward slightly like a giant beast about to pounce on its prey.
The two lunged forward at the same time.
Their footsteps overlapped into a single sound in the empty hall. One tall and one short, one giant and one slender, the two figures collided.
Boom!
Rate on N.U.
