Some time later, Yue and Kael sat shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the altar, staring into the middle distance like survivors of an awkward family reunion.
The sword rested across Kael's lap, still glowing faintly like it hadn't just cursed him into a lifetime of divine hit lists.
It resembled a katana forged in a fever dream—red, sharp, and radiating quiet judgment.
Kael should've felt powerful.
Triumphant, even.
But he mostly felt like someone had handed him a grenade and whispered, 'Good luck, hero.'
Beside him, Yue looked equally thrilled.
After centuries of brooding in an ancient tomb, you'd think being freed would be a net positive.
But here she was—soul-bound to a magician who probably couldn't light a candle without supervision.
They sat like that for a while.
No one spoke.
The altar glowed.
Not helpfully.
Kael finally opened his mouth, probably to say something noble or optimistic or infuriating.
Yue didn't even look at him.
"Don't. It's not reversible."
Kael made a sound.
Somewhere between a sigh and a mental breakdown.
Then, finally—he cracked.
"What in the ever-loving fuck did you do to get every god in the afterlife out for your blood?!"
Yue's eyes narrowed.
"Me? Oh no.
Let's talk about you.
A Rank 1 magician who somehow pulled off a Rank 5 soul-binding spell.
Are you possessed? Are you cursed?"
Their glares met.
Mutual regret shimmered between them like a fine mist of bad decisions.
Then they both exhaled—long, exhausted, not quite human sounds.
Kael leaned back slightly.
"Great. So we're both insane."
"Or cursed," Yue muttered.
"I vote cursed."
Silence again.
This time, it was existential.
Kael rubbed his temples, then blinked as a thought wormed its way into his brain.
"So… what exactly is this place?"
Yue sighed, the kind of sigh that carried centuries and poor life choices.
"The Temple of Sacrifice," she said, like it explained everything and nothing at once.
Kael blinked.
"Come again?"
She gave him a look—equal parts tired professor and annoyed babysitter.
"There are seven temples like this.
One on each continent."
Kael's brow furrowed.
Seven continents?
His mental map—already a bit wobbly—expanded like bad pastry.
He was on just one of them.
In a vast empire.
In a tiny kingdom.
As a minor duke's son.
How charmingly irrelevant.
He frowned.
"Okay, existential crisis later.
How do I get out?"
Yue pointed toward the center of the altar.
Only now did Kael notice the narrow, perfectly round hole carved into the stone.
It pulsed faintly.
"Insert the sword," she said flatly.
"It's a teleportation node. It'll take us to the surface temple."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"You're not tricking me, right?"
Yue groaned, rubbing her temples like a hen explaining quantum physics to an egg !!
"After a soul bind, I'm technically your sword spirit.
Which means… unfortunately... I can't lie to you.
Even if I wanted to."
He stared.
She looked genuinely offended.
He stared harder.
She looked genuinely hurt.
Kael asked silently,
'System, Is she telling the truth?'
[Affirmative]
"Alright then." He shrugged.
"Let's roll the dice."
Kael stepped forward, gripping the sword that had already ruined his life.
With one last glance at the bloody pool, he slid the blade into the socket.
The room buzzed.
Light surged from the floor like angry fireflies.
And just before the world twisted and vanished—
Kael saw something move.
A long, slithering shadow beneath the blood.
Then everything turned black.
As Kael landed with a grunt back on solid stone, the stale temple air welcomed him like an old, passive-aggressive friend.
But the memory still clung.
That shadow.
He turned to Yue.
"Hey… what was that thing in the blood?"
Yue didn't answer.
No smirk. No sarcastic comment. Not even a dramatic sigh.
Just silence.
Kael noticed, but didn't press.
Whatever it was, she wasn't ready to talk about it.
And honestly, he wasn't ready to hear it.
Not yet.
Besides… give it time.
Eventually, she'd warm up to him.
Or maybe even warm his bed—cough cough—spirit or not.
He cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to adjust his collar.
"Okay," he said, clearing his throat.
"Where's the exit?"
He was thinking about Selene now.
The sharp tongue. The sharper spells.
She was probably fine.
Probably lecturing some poor creature to death.
Still, the anxiety gnawed at him.
Yue glanced over, her tone clipped but not cruel.
"There are many ways to enter this temple," she said, drifting toward the far wall,
"But only one way to leave."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"That's… unnecessarily ominous."
"Welcome to ancient magic," she said flatly.
"Now follow me, Master."
Kael sighed and trudged after her.
###
After a while of running—and mostly complaining in his head—Kael finally heard something that wasn't his own breathing.
Voices.
Human ones.
He didn't jump out waving; instead, he ducked behind a crumbled pillar like a sketchy merchant with social anxiety.
Peeking out, he spotted a small bonfire.
Around it, a circle of weary students—what was left of the magic academy's bright future—sat roasting something large and charred over open flame.
Kael's gaze drifted to the unmoving corpse nearby.
The Crimson Devourer.
Dead.
Barbecued.
"Guess teamwork makes the meat work," Kael muttered.
"Probably ganged up on it"
He scanned the group.
A few familiar faces stood out—like bad memories given flesh.
Selene sat by the fire, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes distant.
Tense.
Probably thinking about him.
Her master.
Her possibly-dead-but-hopefully-not master.
Kael smiled faintly.
"Still alive. Still dramatic. Good."
Then he saw Adam and Elara.
Alive.
"How?" Kael thought, blinking.
Adam looked like a walking fruit salad—his face was red and swollen like he'd tried to flirt with a brick wall and lost.
Elara looked like she'd survived out of sheer spite.
Kael sighed.
"Great.
Now I've got witnesses to the whole 'surprise, I know magic'reveal."
Yue floated beside him, arms crossed like a very unimpressed bat.
"Why are you lurking in the shadows like a rejected villain?"
Kael didn't look at her.
"I'm observing.
Stepping in when needed."
She tilted her head.
"All I see is my master watching from the shadows, hoping someone else fights the next horror so he can collect the loot."
Kael looked at her and said, with exaggerated gravity,
"Lesson number one I want to give you as my slave:
Never reveal your master's motives.
And always praise him.
Loudly.
Even when he's catastrophically wrong."
Yue hovered lazily beside him, one brow arched.
"And if I don't?"
Kael hesitated.
She smirked.
He cleared his throat.
"I will… I will…"
She leaned closer, grin widening.
"You will what, oh mighty master?"
Kael's eyes darkened with sudden inspiration.
"I will polish this sword—with sandpaper."
A pause.
"And slowly."
Yue blinked, her smirk faltering.
"You wouldn't."
Kael's voice dropped, deadly serious.
"Coarse grain. No oil."
Yue's smile flattened completely.
"...Understood, Master."
Kael nodded with grim satisfaction, like a man who'd just won a duel using only a spoon and a bad attitude.
Kael resumed his very noble, very tactical peeking.
###
Eventually, Elara stood—slowly, like the air itself resisted her.
Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the murmurs with the clarity of finality.
"Let's move."
The others groaned—too tired to argue, too afraid to stay still.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, frustration slipping through the fatigue.
"Where the hell are we even going?"
Elara didn't answer him directly.
She just kept staring ahead—at the far wall, at the massive door carved with symbols that seemed to shift when you weren't looking.
"At first, we were scattered," she said.
Her voice was distant, as if narrating a story she hadn't agreed to be part of.
"But now we're here. All of us. That doesn't happen by chance."
Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed at the door.
The torches lining the walls flickered violently, casting long, jittering shadows across stone.
"It means there's only one way forward."
Silence fell—deep and tense.
Someone gasped.
Someone else whispered a prayer that went unanswered.
The door loomed ahead. Not as a passage. Not even as a barrier.
As a warning.
Still, they moved.
One step at a time, boots scraping on stone.
When they reached it, no one spoke.
They simply looked to each other… and pushed.
The ancient stone shuddered, groaned, then shifted—mechanisms grinding to life with a scream that echoed far, far down the corridor.
From the darkness beyond, a breath of cold air spilled out.
Thick. Dry. Unwelcoming.
One by one, they stepped inside.
And the shadows swallowed them.
Along the walls, torches flared weakly as they passed, their flames trembling like they recognized what waited beyond.
And behind them—silent, unseen—a shadow moved.
Kael.
He slipped in just before the door thundered shut behind him.
The sound was final.
Almost ritualistic.
Dust fell from above like a sigh from the stones.
None noticed him.
Just another ghost in a place built for them.
Above, drifting like mist no one could feel, Yue hovered silently.
Her faint glow cast no light, her presence barely more than memory.
She studied the space with calm, practiced eyes.
"This," she murmured, "is the main hall."
Her gaze narrowed, voice soft.
"The final trial begins here. The Blood Trial."
No one responded.
No one could.
Except Kael.
And the temple.