As soon as the group entered Purgatory, everything twisted. In a blink, they were split apart, each dropped into a corridor that stretched into the horizon like a forgotten wing of an ancient castle.
Massive stone walls loomed on either side, built from reddish-brown bricks that carried the scent of ash and decay.
The walls climbed so high into the sky that it was impossible to see the top—let alone scale them. There was only one path. Narrow. Oppressive. And leading forward into the unknown.
Lunara gritted her teeth and stepped toward one of the walls. Without hesitation, she summoned her Creation, coating her arms in a glowing sheen of power.
Her fists flared with energy as she punched the wall—once, twice, then launched a full barrage of strikes in quick succession. Dust shook from the surface, but the bricks themselves didn't crack, not even a little.
"Tch… not even a scratch," she muttered in frustration, withdrawing her hands and flexing her fingers.
"It's pointless," came a voice from seemingly nowhere.
Lunara's eyes widened. "Annie?" she asked, looking around.
The voice responded again, calm and steady. "This is likely one of their Creations. Some sort of confinement mechanism. Don't waste your energy."
The others—Sybil, Saphyra, Sylvara, and Zayne—also heard her. Despite being separated, Annie's voice reached them with perfect clarity.
Lunara blinked, then a slow smile curled on her lips. "That's my mom," she whispered proudly.
Annie continued. "During these ten months, I completed a project… a fusion of Creation energy with potion-based technology. What you're using now is a communication device.
Think of it like when I teleported you all to the medical room, or the sensor I placed on Garrick's neck. Same principle."
There was a collective silence from the others as the realization settled in.
"So what do we do now?" Sybil asked cautiously.
"Move forward," Annie instructed. "Follow the path. Don't stop. Defeat whatever comes your way. We'll regroup when the paths allow it."
Without waiting for another word, each of them began to run, the heavy silence of the corridors broken only by their footsteps and the distant, eerie sounds of the Purgatory realm.
Elsewhere in the underbelly of the castle, in a room cloaked in darkness, four figures stood together.
The first was Vel'Zorath, a short Purgatorist with a slender, balanced frame—neither muscular nor thin.
His skin was the deep red hue of the Purgatory realm itself, and his eyes were void-like black, matching the unkempt black strands of hair falling over his forehead.
"They've started moving," said quietly, turning to address someone behind him.
Hidden within the shadows stood Vel'Saekar, a presence cloaked in near-total darkness. Only his left eye was visible, gleaming faintly like a moon behind storm clouds.
Another voice entered the room.
"Good," came a smooth, emotionless tone.
It was Vel'Lucranis, the Purgatorist wielding the Wings Creation. Like the others, his skin and eyes were Purgatory-red and abyssal-black, respectively. However, his hair was a striking contrast—long, golden blonde that fell to his chest.
Draped over him was a white cloth that served as both a mask and garment, covering one side of his face, part of his chest, and half his stomach before trailing into black trousers.
In his hand, he gripped a long spear, the blade at its end curving to one side like a sickle. The side that wasn't bent ended in a razor-sharp point.
Vel'Lucranis unfurled his arms. "Wings Creation: Dove Wing."
With a soft fluttering sound, translucent wings formed behind him, pale and shimmering. He turned to Vel'Zorath.
"You stay here. Make sure they don't regroup. Isolate them. Wear them down."
Vel'Zorath gave a small nod.
Without another word, Lucranis lifted off the ground, gliding effortlessly with a flap of his wings as another figure rose to join him—Vel'Grothar.
Towering and broad, Vel'Grothar was a monstrous presence. His entire body was wrapped in thick, obsidian-black armor, layered with spikes that jutted from his shoulders, elbows, and knees.
A massive double-headed axe hung casually in his hands. The only part of his body visible were his glowing crimson eyes.
Both took flight, heading toward the castle above.
Zayne dashed through the corridor at blinding speed, a faint blur with every step. Thanks to his Speed Creation, no trap or illusion managed to catch him.
He zig-zagged, curved along the walls, ran along their sides, even briefly along the ceiling. Every inch of the corridor was a blur.
Eventually, the narrow corridor widened and opened into a cracked stone platform surrounded by walls of fire and flowing lava.
Standing in the center of this hellish space was Vel'Lucranis, his white veil fluttering in the heat.
His long spear rested against his shoulder, and the golden hair caught the flickering light in eerie contrast to his crimson skin.
"You're the first one to arrive," Lucranis remarked, voice calm and cold. "Not even the traps we spent weeks crafting managed to activate."
Zayne landed on the ground, breathing evenly. He smirked. "Wait, there were traps?"
"Yes," Lucranis said. "But if those didn't stop you… I will."
Zayne cracked his neck and drew his sword, the blade humming with energy. "You sure about that?"
Without waiting for a response, Zayne burst forward. In an instant, he scaled the side of the wall, using his speed and momentum to launch himself downward in a deadly arc, sword aimed for Lucranis's shoulder.
But Lucranis was already in motion.
"Wings Creation: Hawk Wing!"
His wings expanded, feathers transforming into hardened, metallic-like blades.
With a single powerful swing, he sent a gust of force that collided with Zayne mid-air, slamming him backward and sending him skidding across the stone floor.
Zayne grunted as he flipped up onto one knee.
Lucranis raised his head and shouted toward the distant corridor behind him.
"Zorath!—remove the castle!"
The moment those words left his mouth, the entire space around them trembled.
The walls of the corridor behind Zayne disintegrated like dust in the wind. In an instant, the structure around them dissolved—revealing the full, terrifying landscape of Purgatory.
Rivers of lava flowed between jagged rock formations. Smoke rose in thick, dark plumes from cracks in the earth. Fire danced across the sky like northern lights made of ash and ember.
Zayne looked around, tensing as the heat intensified.
The battlefield had changed. No more walls. No more corridors. Just him, Vel'Lucranis, and the infernal realm around them.
And somewhere nearby… more enemies waited in the shadows.