Flashback. Izuku's Pov.
I've faced the brink of death more times than I can count. Even as a teenager, death seemed to shadow me relentlessly. Back then, I used to immerse myself in dark fantasy animes, captivated by its grim allure. But the idea of this job? In real life. It was terrifying—a concept I never believed could exist. That was until my family and I moved to Korea, a year after All Might crushed my dreams, telling me I couldn't be a hero without a quirk.
Not long after, I applied to become a hunter. My very first raid was a disaster. I got separated from the group and ended up stranded, completely vulnerable. E-Rank beasts attacked me, leaving me battered and hospitalized for weeks. Another time, I nearly starved to death, trapped in a labyrinth with no way out.
No matter how low-ranked the dungeon, it was always a fight for survival. Other hunters could afford decent gear, upgrading their weapons with the money they earned from selling essence stones. They grew stronger, hunting bigger beasts and reaping greater rewards. Meanwhile, all I could afford was a cheap knife. If it broke, I had no choice but to fight barehanded.
Day after day, I endured. Years of mockery and ridicule hardened me, so I stopped caring what people in Korea thought of me. This life-threatening job came with its twisted perks, but survival demanded vigilance. I trained myself to spot opportunities, to notice the tiniest details others might miss.
Perhaps that's why I first felt the priest's cursed gaze. Eyes of granite burned, a sudden blaze, their light a dagger through the haze. A chill unfurled, a whispered dread, As shadows danced where courage fled. I knew at once, no time to plan— The storm was here; the chaos began.
Flashback and POV Ends.
"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" Izuku's voice thundered through the hollow cavern, reverberating off the jagged walls. Without hesitation, he yanked Joohee to the ground as a searing yellow beam erupted from the priest's glowing eyes. The light slashed through the air like a blade, its intensity blinding. Most of the group—Song, Kim, Park, and others—scrambled out of its path, their movements frantic and desperate.
But not everyone was so fortunate. Those caught in the beam's trajectory disintegrated in an instant, their screams snuffed out as ash scattered into the stale air. The beam ceased, leaving behind a glowing trail etched into the ground, curving ominously before disappearing into the darkness.
A tense silence followed, broken only by the ragged breaths of the survivors. They exchanged shaken glances, each silently confirming the others were still alive. Then came the scream—a piercing, gut-wrenching cry from a woman kneeling over the charred remnants of a hand. Her voice cracked as she sobbed, her trembling fingers tracing the blackened edges of what was once a person.
"Joohee... Joohee..." Izuku's head snapped toward her. She was crumpled on the ground, her body quaking with uncontrollable sobs. Her hands clutched her head as if trying to block out the horror. "P-Please... no more... no more..." she whimpered, her voice barely audible over her cries.
Izuku's chest tightened, his breath hitching as he turned his gaze back to the priest. The figure stood motionless, eyes still ablaze with that unnatural yellow light, an aura of malice radiating from him. Panic clawed at Izuku's mind, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. "What's happening? How is this even possible? We're trapped. There's no way out. This is it. We're done for. Dead. We're all going to die." His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, each beat a grim reminder of the nightmare unfolding around them. "Just, what the fuck is that thing!"
The temple descended into chaos, a cacophony of panicked shouts ricocheting off the ancient stone walls. Fear clung to the air like a suffocating fog, making every breath feel heavier. "We need to get out of here!" someone shouted, their voice cracking under the weight of terror. It was the unspoken plea on everyone's mind.
"Are you insane?" another retorted, trembling visibly. "That's a death sentence!" The group splintered, lobbing frantic questions at one another like drowning sailors grasping for lifeboats.
"What the hell supposed to do now?"
"Is there another exit?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Two of us are already gone!" The words struck like a hammer blow, silencing the group momentarily. The atmosphere thickened, the oppressive weight of their situation pressing down as if the walls themselves were closing in.
Panic ignited like dry tinder, spreading uncontrollably. Eyes darted wildly, scanning for an escape route that didn't exist. Trembling hands gripped weapons that felt pitifully inadequate against the towering stone monstrosity casting its shadow over them.
During the chaos, Song stood his ground. His jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with determination. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, his chest rising as he summoned every ounce of strength. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, his voice slicing through the turmoil like a blade, silencing the room in an instant.
His gaze swept across the frightened faces, his tone sharp and commanding. "Stay down, all of you," he ordered, his voice low but forceful. "If you move, it'll strike again. Understand?"
No one dared to disobey. The memory of the statue's destructive beam lingered in their minds, freezing them in place. The pounding of their hearts filled the suffocating silence, echoing like a drumbeat against the cold stone walls. The air felt thick and tense, while shadows flickered and danced, giving the ancient carvings a sinister, almost malevolent life.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. The silence pressed down on them, broken only by the occasional whimper or shaky breath. Eyes darted nervously between Song, the ominous statue, and the lifeless remains of their fallen companions—a grim reminder of the razor-thin line between survival and death.
There was no escape, no reprieve. Their lives dangled by a thread, death lurking just a heartbeat away. Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath them, a low rumble reverberating through the chamber. Dust sifted down from the ceiling, and small stones skittered across the floor. The statue's eyes flared brighter, casting an eerie, golden-yellow glow over the terrified group.
"It's going to fire again," someone whispered, their voice trembling with fear.
Song's eyes narrowed, his voice a sharp hiss. "Nobody move. Not an inch."
The rumbling intensified, the walls vibrating with an unnatural, otherworldly energy. The oppressive silence was shattered by a soft, heart-wrenching sob. Joohee sat trembling, tears streaming down her face. "I can't... I can't do this," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. Beside her, Izuku stretched out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing hers. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though his voice wavered as he whispered, "We'll make it through this." He wasn't sure he believed his own words.
The statue's head began to move, its gaze sweeping across the room like a predator searching for its prey. Everyone held their breath, their bodies stiff with fear, silently praying they wouldn't be the next target.
As the glowing eyes passed over the group, Song's mind raced. There had to be a weakness, a way out of this nightmare. His thoughts churned, desperate for a solution. Sweat trickled down his face, his heart hammering in his chest. Every second stretched into eternity, the weight of the moment almost unbearable.
The statue's gaze continued its hunt, its deadly presence looming over them like a shadow of death. Song glanced at Izuku and Joohee, their fear written plainly across their faces. Determined, he began to crawl toward them, his movements slow and deliberate, his every action calculated. There had to be a way to end this. There had to be hope.
He reached the two and placed a firm hand on Izuku's shoulder. "Mr. Song!" Izuku exclaimed, startled.
"Joohee gets scared easily," Song explained, his voice calm but serious. "That's why she only participates in sample raids, even though she's a B-Rank Healer. And judging by the looks of this place..." His gaze shifted to the stoned priest looming before them. "...it's anything but simple. It only targets those who moved. Everyone who ducked, like you suggested, survived."
"Oh... I see," Izuku murmured, piecing it together.
Song's eyes narrowed slightly. "How did you know that would happen?" he asked.
"I just... had a feeling it might be dangerous—Mr. Song, your arm!" Izuku shouted, his voice rising in alarm. Song's arm was caught in the blast, blood seeping from the wound.
"I'll live," Song said with a strained but steady tone. "Just help me stop the bleeding." Fortunately, someone had bandages on hand and quickly wrapped the bleeding stump of the arm. "So, Midoriya... what's your take on the rank of that creature?"
"Most likely S-rank or higher," Izuku replied thoughtfully. "I'm just speculating since I've only encountered low-rank magic beasts before, but I'd wager even National Rank Hunters would struggle—or worse, perish—in this dungeon."
Song narrowed his eyes as he listened intently. "There's something I remember from the Commandments," he began. "It states: 'Thou shall worship the god. Thou shall praise the god. Thou shall prove thy faith. Those who fail to obey these commandments... shall not be spared.'"
Izuku's expression grew serious. "Mr. Song... are you suggesting that the 'God' mentioned on the tablet refers to that statue of the high priest?"
"Exactly," he replied. "But are you sure you'll be okay? Your arm is still bleeding."
"I'll manage," Song assured him. "Besides, Joohee is unavailable, and the squad's morale is at an all-time low."
Someone eagerly announced their induction into a major guild, boasting loudly about their newfound status. Brimming with confidence, they sprinted toward the double doors, certain their speed would carry them through. Instead, they disintegrated mid-stride, leaving only their feet behind as a grim reminder of their overconfidence.
"That priest will use that beam to instantly kill anyone who moves. If it misses, the gatekeeper by the doors can decapitate us. We're nothing but rats in a trap," Izuku thought, his eyes widening as they darted back to the tablet. "They attack in patterns... rules. The Commandments—they're the rules governing this temple."
Izuku suddenly stood, his abrupt motion drawing Song's sharp gaze. "What are you doing?!" Song hissed, panic lacing his voice.
"The Commandments dictate the rules of this dungeon," Izuku said, his tone steady and resolute.
"Have you lost your mi—" Song's retort died in his throat when he caught the unwavering determination in Izuku's eyes. A realization dawned on him. "He's not giving up. Not yet."
"They're not attacking just because we're moving," Izuku muttered under his breath, his sharp gaze fixed on the priest as it readied another strike. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees. The priest's glowing eyes flickered, dimming back to a muted yellow. "It only attacks if we're at a certain height," Izuku thought, his mind racing as clarity struck. "I've figured out the First Commandment."
"EVERYONE, BOW TO THE GIANT STATUE!" Izuku's voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"What?!" Kim barked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?!" Park shouted. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MARBLES, MIDORIYA?!" Kim added, his voice rising.
"HEAR THE KID OUT!" Song's voice thundered, silencing the others. His eyes locked on Izuku. "You've figured something out, haven't you?"
"Yes," Izuku confirmed, his voice firm. "It only attacks if we're at a certain height. If we bow on our hands and knees, it stops. 'Thou shall worship the god.' It's a literal command."
Without hesitation, Izuku bowed deeply before the towering statue. Song hesitated. "You're acting on a hunch," he said, his tone skeptical but tinged with hope.
"Yes," Izuku admitted, his voice unwavering. "But it's the only chance we have." As they bowed, the tension in the room was suffocating. Sweat glistened on foreheads, and hearts thundered in chests as all eyes remained fixed on the motionless figure, each person silently praying Izuku's instincts were right. Then, like a candle flickering in its final moments, the eerie glow in the stone high priest's eyes began to fade, dimming until only cold, lifeless stone remained.
But just as a collective sigh of relief began to ripple through the group, the unimaginable happened. The statue's face shifted. Its once-stoic expression twisted unnervingly, the rigid features softening into a smile. It wasn't a smile of kindness or peace—it was a vile, predatory grin, dripping with cruel anticipation, as though savoring their fear like a delicacy.
"That's... that's creepy as hell," Park murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His wide eyes betrayed the terror clawing at his insides as he stared at the grotesque transformation.
Izuku's sharp gaze locked onto the statue, his mind racing. "The expression—it changed," he muttered, his voice taut with urgency. Every detail of the statue's new visage screamed of danger, and his instincts screamed louder.
"It stopped attacking," Park added, his words tinged with a fragile relief. His shoulders sagged slightly, but the unease clung to him like a shadow, refusing to let go.
A cautious wave of hope began to spread through the squad. Muted whispers of gratitude and hesitant smiles flickered across their faces, the faintest spark of optimism igniting in the oppressive air. For a fleeting moment, they believed the worst had passed.
But Izuku felt it in his bones—something was wrong. His eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shifts in the statue's stance. The stone wasn't just still; it was alive, the rigid surface rippling as if muscles coiled beneath its rocky exterior.
And then it hit him, a surge of dread that sent his heart hammering. The statue wasn't done—it was preparing to rise. With mounting horror, he saw the massive form begin to stir, its hulking frame tensing as it prepared to rise.
"IT'S NOT OVER!" Izuku shouted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. Every nerve in his body braced for the nightmare about to unfold. The air grew dense, charged with a sinister energy that pressed down on them like an invisible weight. Whatever came next, it would be worse. Much worse.
The temple shuddered violently, ancient stone groaning under the strain. Dust and debris rained down from the cracking ceiling, creating a hazy veil in the air. The stone priest, once motionless, began to rise with agonizing slowness. Its movements were deliberate and menacing like a predator savoring the moment before it pounced on its prey.
"Midoriya!" Song's voice cut through the chaos, tinged with desperation. "Do you have any more ideas?!" His eyes darted between the rising statue and Izuku, hope and fear warring in his expression.
Izuku's mind raced, adrenaline sharpening his thoughts. "We already followed the first commandment!" he shouted back, his voice hoarse from the dust-filled air. "Next, we need to praise the god!"
The words had barely left his lips when a figure emerged from the shadows. A man, his face etched with determination, stepped forward. "I used to sing in the church choir," he announced, his voice steady despite the trembling ground beneath their feet.
Without hesitation, he began to pray, his rich baritone echoing off the chamber walls. The words, meant to be soothing, took on an eerie quality in the dim, dust-filled room. For a moment, it seemed as if his plan might work.
But Izuku's keen eyes caught something the others missed. The priest's stone face, once impassive, began to twist. What started as a smile quickly morphed into something far more sinister – a grotesque grin that sent chills down Izuku's spine.
"No!" Izuku's scream tore from his throat, raw with horror. "He's praying to the wrong god!"
His warning came too late. The statue, previously moving with glacial slowness, suddenly burst into action. Its massive foot rose and fell with terrifying speed, a boulder dropped from a great height.
There was a sickening crunch, a cut-off scream, and then... silence. Where the man had stood, there was now only a spreading pool of crimson, stark against the dusty stone floor.
The air hung heavy with shock and the metallic scent of blood. Izuku's heart hammered in his chest, his mind reeling from the sudden, brutal loss of life. The reality of their situation crashed down upon him with renewed force – one wrong move, one misinterpretation, and they could all share the same fate.
Chaos erupted as the statue continued its relentless advance. The air filled with dust and the acrid scent of fear as panic seized the group. They scattered like leaves in a storm, their screams echoing off the ancient stone walls.
Park's eyes were wide with terror, his thoughts a frantic jumble. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he gasped for breath. "I can't die like this!" he thought, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. "I've got family waiting for me!" The image of his young daughter's smiling face flashed through his mind, giving him a desperate surge of strength.
He spotted a shadowy alcove, a small recess in the wall that seemed to promise safety. Without hesitation, he made a desperate dash for it, his legs burning with the effort. "I should be safe over here, right?" he muttered, hope and fear warring in his voice. His fingers scraped against the rough stone as he pressed himself into the alcove, trying to make himself as small as possible.
But fate had other plans. The temple seemed to shift and groan around them, as if alive and hungry for blood.
Kim's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate warning that sent chills down Park's spine. "Hey, Park! Behind you!"
Park turned, his movement agonizingly slow. Time seemed to stretch like taffy, each second an eternity. His eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of the stone knight, its blank face betraying no emotion as its blade was already in motion. The torchlight glinted off the stone edge, mesmerizing in its deadly beauty.
There was a sickening sound of stone cutting through flesh, a noise Park never thought he'd hear. His world exploded into pain, every nerve ending screaming in agony. He felt a strange weightlessness as if he were floating. Then, mercifully, nothing at all.
"PARK!" Kim's anguished cry echoed through the chamber, a raw testament to the horror unfolding before them. The sound was primal, filled with grief and rage, bouncing off the walls and seeming to shake the very foundations of the temple.
Amidst the mayhem, Izuku's hand shot out, grabbing Joohee's trembling fingers with a grip that was both desperate and protective. Her skin was cold and clammy against his palm, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the chaos around them. He pulled her along with a force that spoke of urgency and determination. They ran, their footsteps reverberating through the cavernous chamber, the sound mingling with the cacophony of crumbling stone, panicked screams, and the guttural roars of the stone guardians. Debris rained down from above, sharp fragments slicing through the air, while the flailing limbs of panicked raiders created a deadly obstacle course.
Izuku's mind raced, a storm of thoughts crashing against each other as he tried to make sense of their dire situation. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, his chest heaving with exertion as he pushed his body to its absolute limits. "Praise God... Praise God..." he muttered under his breath, the words tumbling out like a mantra, though his tone was anything but reverent. His brow furrowed deeply, beads of sweat trickling down his temple and stinging his eyes as he wracked his brain for a solution. "What is there to praise about that thing?! It's basically a devil!" he spat, his voice tinged with frustration and fear.
A quick glance over his shoulder brought his heart to its knees. Joohee's face, streaked with tears, bore the weight of sheer terror. The salty rivulets carved clean tracks through the dust and grime that clung to her skin. Her sobs were uncontrollable, wracking her frail body and causing her to stumble with every step. Her wide, unfocused eyes darted around, searching for an escape that didn't exist. She looked like a fragile bird caught in a storm, her spirit teetering on the edge of breaking.
Despite the overwhelming danger, despite every primal instinct screaming at him to save himself, Izuku couldn't let go. The very thought of abandoning her was more horrifying than the monstrous stone creatures closing in on them. "I can't leave Joohee alone," he thought, the conviction in his mind steeling his resolve. He tightened his grip on her hand, feeling the frantic pulse in her fingertips that matched the erratic drumming of his own heart. It was a silent promise, one that said he would protect her no matter the cost.
As they darted through the chaos, dodging falling debris and the deadly swings of the stone guardians' massive weapons, Izuku's mind worked overtime. There had to be a way out, a solution hidden within the madness. The commandments—they held the key. He was certain of it. But could he decipher their meaning before death claimed them? His thoughts churned like a raging storm, every possibility and fragment of memory colliding in a desperate bid for clarity.
His eyes scanned the chamber, absorbing every detail with a frantic intensity. The towering statues, the intricate carvings on the walls, the scattered remnants of past adventurers—all of it could hold the answer. Then his gaze froze, locking onto a statue clutching an ornate lyre. Instruments. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the fog of panic. The commandments mentioned music, and harmony, and something about the "song of salvation" maybe a hint for the third commandment.
"Everyone!" Izuku's voice sliced through the chaos, sharp and commanding, carrying a weight that demanded attention. "To the statues with instruments!" His shout was a beacon of hope amidst the despair, though it was met with confusion.
Song, standing a few feet away, turned to him with a furrowed brow. Doubt and hope warred in his expression, his voice hesitant as he echoed, "Instruments?" Uncertainty threaded through his tone, but something in Izuku's unwavering gaze compelled him to act. He moved toward a statue clutching a trumpet, his steps cautious yet deliberate. As he approached, the cold, lifeless stone seemed to stir. The statue's lips parted, and a haunting melody began to weave through the air, soft yet piercing, cutting through the din like a blade.
"It's... playing?" Song whispered, his eyes widening in astonishment. The melody was otherworldly, its ethereal notes resonating deep within his chest. He turned to the others, his voice rising with urgency. "The statues with instruments—they're safe! They won't attack!"
A ripple of relief swept through the group, their faces lighting up with a glimmer of hope they hadn't dared to feel. They scattered, each person sprinting toward a musical statue as if their lives depended on it—because they did. The chamber came alive with an eerie symphony, the statues shimmering with an unearthly glow as their spectral music filled the air. The chamber pulsated with an eerie symphony, the statues shimmering with an otherworldly glow as their spectral music filled the air.
Izuku and Joohee dashed toward a statue gripping a massive drum, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. "Play!" Izuku urged, his voice taut with urgency. "Please—play your music!" But the statue remained still, its eyes dull and lifeless. Panic coiled within Izuku's chest, threatening to suffocate him. "Why isn't it working?" he thought frantically. "Is it because there are two of us?"
He turned to Joohee, and their eyes locked—his blue ones earnest, her expression frightened yet resolute. "Stay here!" he commanded firmly, reassuringly. Without waiting for her response, he bolted toward another statue, his footsteps thundering against the cold stone floor.
"Izuku!" Joohee's voice trembled with fear, her heart pounding as she watched him race away. Suddenly, the drum statue beside her came to life, its eyes ablaze with an intense blue glow. The low, resonant thrum of its drum joined the spectral orchestra, sending a shiver racing up Joohee's spine.
She gasped, her fear momentarily replaced by awe. "It worked..." she whispered, clutching her chest, her gaze tracking Izuku's retreating form as she silently willed him to safety.
Run. That was all Izuku could do as the high priest's gaze locked onto him, its stone eyes burning with malice. He sprinted forward, lungs burning, narrowly dodging a thunderous stomp that left a crater in its wake. The ground shook beneath him, nearly throwing him off balance.
"Wrong way!" Song's voice cut through the din, panic evident in his tone. "That's not an instrument!"
Izuku's eyes darted left, catching a glimpse of a statue of a woman with angelic wings. Hope flared briefly within him—could this be his salvation? But as he turned back to face what lay ahead, despair sank in. A statue wielding a shield loomed before him, its stone face twisted in a grotesque grin.
Before Izuku could react, the shield-wielding figure slammed its weapon down with a deafening boom, directly in his path. The impact sent him sprawling, his body hurtling through the air like a rag doll.
"No! Izuku!" Joohee's scream echoed through the chamber as Izuku's body skidded across the ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. The sight of his crumpled form sent a wave of despair crashing over the group, their faces pale with shock and fear.
Izuku lay there, battered and broken, pain radiating through every fiber of his being. "Instruments..." he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Instruments... If there is a god, please make it stop!" The words tore from his throat, raw with anguish and desperation.
As darkness began to creep into his vision, a strange sense of resignation washed over him. "Between life and death..." he thought, his mind growing hazy, "I've been playing this dangerous game of tug-of-war for so long. And now, I guess... it's finally over." His eyes fluttered shut, ready to surrender to the encroaching darkness.
But fate had other plans. Through the haze of pain and despair, a sound reached Izuku's ears—an angelic and serene voice calling to him from above. The high priest, poised to deliver the final blow, suddenly froze.
"Haha..." Izuku wheezed out a chuckle, a mixture of relief and disbelief washing over him. His eyes cracked open, searching for the source of the heavenly voice that had seemingly saved him from the brink of death.
"Are you alright, Izuku?!" a voice called out, laden with desperation, cutting through the thick haze of dust and tension. Joohee's voice cracked as she shouted, her words trembling with urgency. "Yeah... I guess," Izuku murmured, his words faint, fragile, barely audible over the pounding in his ears. His body swayed, unsteady, as if the very act of speaking had drained what little strength he had left.
Joohee dashed toward him, her boots skidding slightly on the uneven ground, but she froze mid-step. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened in sheer horror. Silent tears began to cascade down her cheeks, their path glinting faintly in the dim light of the chamber. "Oh no..." she whispered, her voice quivering, the words barely escaping her lips.
Izuku's gaze, sluggish and unfocused, drifted downward. His vision swam, but the grisly reality before him snapped sharply into focus. His breath hitched, his chest tightening as his eyes locked on the grotesque sight. Something vital, something intrinsic, was missing. "Oh..." he muttered, his tone hollow, almost detached, as if his mind refused to fully process the horror.
"Your leg!" Joohee choked out, her voice cracking with disbelief and anguish. The words seemed to echo endlessly in the cavernous space. His right leg was gone—severed cleanly just below the knee. The jagged edges of the wound were raw and bloodied, a stark contrast against the pale, clammy skin of his remaining limb. Joohee fell to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she hovered them over the wound. Summoning every ounce of her will, she began to concentrate on healing him, pouring the last remnants of her mana into his battered body. A faint, golden glow emanated from her palms, flickering like a dying flame.
Suddenly, Joohee's eyes widened, her pupils dilating in alarm. A violent cough wracked her frame, and crimson droplets splattered onto the dusty floor beneath her. Her body shuddered, her face turning ashen as the toll of her mana depletion became painfully evident. She swayed, barely able to remain upright, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
Before anyone could react, the ground beneath them began to tremble violently. A deep, menacing rumble reverberated through the chamber, shaking loose small stones and sending a chill down their spines. The group's attention snapped to the high priest, a looming figure whose stone visage remained cold and unyielding. Its massive hand, carved with ancient symbols, began to rise slowly but deliberately. The air around them grew heavy, crackling with an unnatural energy that made their skin prickle.
Before their astonished eyes, an altar began to materialize from the very earth itself. The structure emerged with an almost sentient purpose, its creation accompanied by a low, otherworldly hum. What rose before them was both mesmerizing and terrifying—a grand, double-ringed platform that seemed to defy the natural order. The surface of the altar was intricately carved with runes, their patterns pulsating faintly with an eerie, otherworldly light that shifted between shades of crimson and violet. The outer ring formed a broad, imposing base, encircling a smaller, elevated platform at its center. The entire structure was forged from a dark, polished stone that seemed to absorb the dim glow of the chamber, exuding an oppressive, shadowy aura that weighed heavily on the group's spirits.
The group froze, their movements stilled by a mix of awe and dread. Some instinctively stepped back, their breaths catching in their throats, while others leaned forward, unable to suppress their morbid curiosity despite the fear flickering in their eyes. The oppressive silence that followed was broken only by the faint hum of the altar, a sound that seemed to resonate deep within their chests.
"An altar," Izuku murmured, his voice barely audible but laced with unease. All eyes turned toward him, their gazes heavy with expectation and fear. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and steadied himself as he continued. "Throughout history and myth, altars like this have been used for sacrifices to the gods."
His gaze swept over his companions, noting the dawning horror etched across their faces. The weight of his words pressed down on them like a suffocating fog. "Blood sacrifices," he clarified, his voice gaining strength despite the pain coursing through him. "Animals—cattle, pigs, sheep... and sometimes, even humans."
A collective shudder rippled through the group, the implications of his statement sinking in like a lead weight dropped into still water. The oppressive air grew thicker, pressing down on them like an invisible hand, the tension almost unbearable. Shadows seemed to stretch and twist along the ancient stone walls as if the room itself recoiled from the truth being spoken.
Izuku's voice dropped lower, heavy with the gravity of his words, each syllable falling like a hammer on their ears. "Children, virgins... they were offered right on platforms like this," he said, gesturing toward the crumbling altar before them. "Their lives are given to appease or gain favor from the gods."
The silence that followed was deafening, a void filled only by the faint sound of their breathing and the distant drip of water echoing through the chamber. The air felt thick, charged with tension and unspoken fear, as if the very atmosphere rebelled against the horrors being unearthed. Izuku's gaze fell on the altar once more, his eyes narrowing as his mind raced to piece together the puzzle before them, the jagged edges of history cutting into his thoughts.
"And so," he continued, his voice quiet but intense, the weight of realization pressing down on him, "the third and final commandment is..." He paused, the words catching in his throat as the full implications hit him like a tidal wave. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, the enormity of the truth almost too much to bear.
Song, standing beside him, stepped forward with a grim determination etched into his face. His expression was tight, his jaw set as if bracing himself against the storm of understanding that had just broken over them. His voice, steady but laced with a foreboding chill, filled the heavy silence. "Thou shall prove thy faith," he said, the words hanging in the air like a blade poised to drop. The chill in his tone sent shivers through the group, the weight of the commandment sinking into their hearts like ice.
To be continued