Chapter 1: "The Temple of Meriodia"

The air was a blade, cold and sharp, slicing through Beya’s tattered cloak as he staggered through the Temple of Meriodia. 

The stench of blood and decay clung to every surface, thick enough to choke on. His breath fogged in the frigid darkness, each exhale a reminder that he was still alive for now.

This was no sanctuary. The temple was a mausoleum of horrors, its stone walls etched with glyphs that pulsed faintly, as if the structure itself breathed. 

Legends whispered of Meriodia, the goddess of hunger, whose appetite demanded blood. If her altars went unfed, she would rise from the earth’s depths and consume all life. 

For centuries, warriors had been sent here as offerings, chosen to fight, to bleed, to die. Beya was next.

His boots scraped against the cracked stone floor, echoing in the cavernous chamber. His right arm throbbed, blood dripping from a gash that soaked the hilt of his sword, making it slick in his trembling grip. 

The blade felt heavier with each step, his strength ebbing like a tide. He’d been fighting for hours maybe days. 

Time blurred in this cursed place, where the only constants were death and the endless horde of undead that guarded Meriodia’s altar.

“I can’t… keep this up,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the howl of the wind that seemed to come from nowhere. 

His knees buckled, but he caught himself against a pillar, its surface cold and slimy under his palm. “Not yet… I won’t die here.”

A low, grinding sound snapped him upright. It was like bones scraping together, a prelude to slaughter. From the shadows ahead, a shape loomed massive, grotesque. 

A wolf, its body towering as tall as an oak, its flesh rotting in clumps, exposing sinew and bone. Its jaw split wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed with an unnatural sheen. 

Its eyes burned with a sickly green light, locking onto Beya with predatory intent. It lunged.

Beya threw himself to the side, the ground exploding where the beast’s claws struck. Shards of stone stung his face as he rolled, scrambling to his feet. 

His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins like fire.“Getting… tired…” he muttered, tightening his grip on the sword. 

The wolf snarled, its massive head swinging toward him, jaws snapping inches from his throat. He ducked, the air whistling as teeth grazed his shoulder. “But I can’t stop!”

With a guttural roar, Beya swung his blade in a desperate arc. The steel sang, slicing through the wolf’s neck in a single, fluid motion. 

Black blood sprayed, hissing as it hit the floor, and the creature’s body collapsed in two halves, twitching before going still.

“Eighty-nine,” Beya panted, his voice raw. He wiped sweat and blood from his eyes, his vision swimming. “Eighty-nine down.”

The words were a mantra, a tether to keep him grounded. But his body was betraying him. His legs trembled, his wounded arm screamed with every movement, and the cold was seeping into his bones. 

The temple wasn’t just a battlefield it was a predator, draining him with every step. As if mocking his defiance, the shadows stirred. 

Shapes emerged from the darkness dozens of them. Undead soldiers, their flesh rotting, their armor rusted and broken. 

Some clutched swords, others notched arrows to warped bows. Their eyes were hollow, yet they moved with chilling precision, like warriors who remembered how to kill even in death.

An army. Beya’s heart sank, but he raised his sword, its blade trembling in his weakening grip. “If I die,” he growled, “I’m taking you all with me.”

The horde charged, a tidal wave of decay and steel. Beya met them head-on, his blade flashing in the dim light. He parried a rusted sword, its edge scraping sparks from his own. 

Another undead lunged, its blade slicing a shallow gash across his thigh. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and drove his sword through its chest. 

The creature didn’t flinch it kept coming, clawing at him until he twisted the blade and kicked it away.

“They’re dead,” he hissed, dodging an arrow that whistled past his ear. “But they fight like they’re alive.”

Another arrow struck, this one finding its mark. Pain erupted in his chest as the shaft buried itself deep, blood blooming across his tunic. 

He staggered, clutching the wound, his vision darkening at the edges. The horde closed in, their blades glinting, their hollow eyes unyielding.

“Screw it…” Beya’s voice was a ragged whisper. “I won’t die here.” His thoughts flashed to her the one waiting beyond this nightmare, the one he’d sworn to return to. 

Her face, her voice, her warmth it was a spark in the darkness, igniting something deep within him.

“I won’t stop!” he roared, raising his sword with both hands. The air crackled, charged with an energy that made the glyphs on the walls flare. “ENZAKIE!”

A blinding shockwave erupted from his blade, a torrent of searing light that tore through the temple. The undead shrieked, their bodies disintegrating into ash as the wave consumed them. 

The ground shook, pillars cracked, and the air grew thick with the stench of charred flesh.

When the light faded, Beya stood alone, his chest heaving, his sword glowing faintly with residual energy. The temple was silent, save for the faint drip of his blood hitting the floor. 

Ash coated everything, a grim testament to his power. “I didn’t want to use that,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. 

The light in his sword pulsed, veins of radiant energy crawling up his arms, his skin tingling with heat. It felt alive, hungry, as if the power itself craved more destruction. “But you forced my hand.”

He scanned the ruins, his eyes narrowing. “Where are they?” His voice was a desperate edge. “Where is she?”

He stumbled forward, his boots crunching over ash and shattered stone. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every flicker of light a trap. 

He needed a sign, a clue anything to guide him to her.Then BOOM!

The wall to his left exploded, stone and dust raining down like a storm. Beya threw himself to the ground, shielding his face as debris pelted him. “What the?!”

The ground trembled, a deep, guttural roar shaking the temple’s foundations. From the gaping hole in the wall, something massive slithered into view. 

Its body was a grotesque fusion of scales and bone, long as a river, its decayed flesh hanging in strips. Jagged spines protruded from its back, and its eyes glowed with a malevolent light.

“A Leviathan?!” Beya’s voice cracked, his instincts screaming at him to run. The creature’s jaws snapped open, revealing a maw large enough to swallow him whole. 

It lunged, its massive head shattering the floor where he’d stood moments before. Beya rolled, barely avoiding the strike. 

“I’m strong,” he muttered, gripping his sword tighter, “but one hit from that thing will end me.”

The Leviathan roared again, the sound like a thousand storms colliding. Its tail lashed, toppling a pillar that crashed inches from Beya’s feet. He didn’t hesitate. 

His sword flared, flames coiling around the blade like a living serpent. “Then I’ll end it fast!” he shouted, swinging with all his might. 

Fire erupted from his blade, spiraling into a blazing inferno that wrapped around the Leviathan’s body. 

The creature thrashed, its shrieks echoing as the flames consumed its rotting flesh. The heat was unbearable, the air shimmering with intensity.

BOOOM!

The Leviathan’s body exploded, fragments of bone and ash scattering across the temple. Beya staggered back, panting, his sword still glowing faintly. 

“What… was that thing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. The dust settled, revealing a figure emerging from the smoke. 

It was humanoid, but its body was clad in black scales, its long tail dragging across the stone. Its eyes glowed like dying embers, and a sharp, inhuman grin split its face.

“Ahhh,” it said, stretching its arms languidly. “That form was such a chore. I hate wearing it.”

Beya’s grip tightened, his blade humming with residual energy. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice steady despite the pain radiating from his wounds.

The entity tilted its head, its grin widening. “Oh, don’t bother with names. You’re going to die anyway. Why not make it easy?”

The words hit like a physical blow, but Beya’s eyes narrowed, defiance burning hotter than his wounds. “Doesn’t matter who you are,” he said, flames flaring around his sword. “I’ll burn you to ash.”

The entity laughed, a sound like shattering glass. “Bold words, little offering. Let’s see if you can back them up.”

The ground trembled as the creature lunged, its claws raking the air. Beya dodged, his blade meeting the entity’s scaled arm in a shower of sparks. 

The force sent him skidding back, his boots scraping against the stone. This was no undead soldier this was something else, something ancient and powerful.

“You’re fast,” the entity mused, circling him like a predator. “But speed won’t save you.”

Beya didn’t respond. He channeled his energy, the veins of light on his arms glowing brighter. 

The air around him crackled, the temple’s glyphs pulsing in response. “Bring it on!” he roared, charging forward.

Their blades clashed, the impact sending shockwaves through the chamber. The entity’s tail whipped out, aiming for Beya’s legs, but he leaped over it, slashing downward. 

His sword grazed the creature’s shoulder, drawing a hiss of pain.“Not bad,” it said, its grin never faltering. “But you’re running out of time.”

Beya’s chest heaved, the arrow wound burning with every movement. He could feel his strength fading, but he pushed it aside. 

“I don’t have time to waste,” he growled, raising his sword. “This ends now!” Flames erupted around him, a blazing aura that lit the temple like a sun. 

The entity’s eyes widened, its grin faltering for the first time. “What is this power?” it hissed.

Beya didn’t answer. He swung his blade, unleashing a torrent of fire that consumed the chamber. The entity screamed, its scales charring as it tried to shield itself. 

The temple shook, stones falling from the ceiling as the flames roared higher. When the fire died down, Beya stood alone, his sword planted in the ground to keep him upright. 

The entity was gone, reduced to ash like the rest. But the victory felt hollow. He was still trapped in this cursed place, still bleeding, still searching.

“Where is she?” he whispered, his voice breaking. He stumbled forward, his vision blurring. The temple seemed to pulse around him, as if mocking his determination.

Another sound a faint, distant cry. Beya’s head snapped up, his heart racing. “That’s… her voice?”

He forced himself to move, each step a battle against his failing body. The cry came again, louder, guiding him deeper into the temple’s heart. Whatever awaited him, he would face it. For her.

To be continued…