Chapter 336: Ravik’s Hell [ 1 ]

The Crimson Jackals stumbled into the suffocating darkness of the tomb, their ragged breaths echoing off the stone walls.

Each boot struck the ground with an uneven rhythm, the sound mingling with the hissing of torches that barely held back the oppressive shadows pressing in around them.

At the front was Ravik, his jaw clenched tight as he fought against the silence.

He had already lost too many men,too many traps, too many lifeless bodies left in his wake.

But he pressed on, fueled by pride and a desperate hope that the treasure waiting ahead would make all this suffering worthwhile.

As they entered a vast chamber, its size took their breath away.

Smooth walls framed rows of statues carved from black stone, each one resembling a soldier frozen in place.

They stood at attention on either side of the room,dozens or perhaps even a hundred, each holding a crossbow aimed straight down the path.

At first glance, they appeared to be mere lifeless guardians.

But Ravik’s instincts screamed otherwise.

“Hold,” he growled, raising a hand to stop his men in their tracks.

The torchlight cast flickering shadows over the statues’ blank faces, making them seem unnervingly alive.

The polished surfaces of their crossbows glinted ominously as if they were made of metal rather than stone.

“What is this place?” one soldier whispered, his voice trembling.

Another scoffed dismissively. “Just statues.”

“No,” Ravik snapped sharply. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the floor for danger.

Faint grooves crisscrossed the stone tiles beneath them,thin seams outlining squares running across like an intricate grid.

Pressure plates!

Ravik clenched his fists tightly. “The floor is rigged! One wrong step and those bastards will fire!”

Nervous glances exchanged among his men revealed their fear; sweat dripped down their temples and soaked their collars as they shifted uneasily between statues.

One young recruit with trembling hands suggested softly, “We can go around… hug the wall?”

Ravik shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “The walls are death too! You think these Azurians left any blind spots?”

A heavy silence enveloped them,a silence thick with dread.

Finally, Ravik stepped forward decisively. “Stay on my marks! Step where I step! No hesitation!”

They followed cautiously behind him, boots scraping against stone like whispers of impending doom.

Every movement felt perilous,as if walking on glass could lead to instant death. Their breaths quickened in unison; anxiety filled every corner of that dark chamber.

The first few meters passed without incident; relief began to creep into their ranks until one soldier inadvertently shifted his foot too far onto an edge plate.

A low click echoed ominously through the air.

Then chaos erupted!

All at once, the statues unleashed hell. Dozens of bolts whistled through the air like angry hornets, a storm of steel slicing through the darkness.

The first volley struck with bone-shattering force.

Three men dropped instantly, their screams drowned beneath the thuds of arrows punching into flesh.

One bolt buried itself deep in a skull, snapping the head back in a spray of crimson mist.

Another ripped through a soldier’s throat, blood gurgling out as he clutched his wound before collapsing to his knees.

The third was skewered through the chest, ribs cracking like dry twigs as he was hurled backward into another man’s arms.

Chaos erupted in the chamber.

“Move! MOVE!” Ravik bellowed, shoving the survivors forward like cattle fleeing a predator.

But those cursed statues reloaded with an eerie precision, their mechanical rhythm unbroken.

Another volley unleashed,bolts tore through shoulders and stomachs, piercing lungs and livers with ruthless efficiency.

One man’s arm exploded in a gruesome mess as an arrow punched straight through it.

Another was lifted off his feet and pinned against the far wall like some grotesque trophy on display.

The survivors screamed in terror. Blood sprayed across the floor, splattering tiles and pooling between pressure plate seams.

“Run!” someone shrieked. “Run or we’re all dead!”

They sprinted in uneven lines, their frantic escape overshadowing any thought of strategy or safety.

Arrows chased them like hunting hounds, striking with relentless precision. Each bolt carried the weight of perfect engineering,no wasted shots, no mercy given.

One Jackal tripped; he barely had time to lift his head before three bolts tore through his torso simultaneously.

His body jerked and convulsed before lying still, bolts quivering from impact.

Another tried to shield himself with his pack the first arrow ripped right through it as if it were made of paper.

The second pierced his gut, spilling intestines across the floor in a horrific display.

The chamber reeked of iron; blood steamed in the cold air,a macabre perfume that filled their lungs with dread.

Ravik ducked low, rage burning fiercely within him.

He swung his blade wildly at one statue in frustration; sparks flew as metal met stone, but it was useless against its cold exterior. The statue didn’t flinch.

He snarled defiantly, “Forward! Don’t stop!”

Half his squad lay broken already; terror widened their eyes as they obeyed him without question.

Another volley rained down,a chorus of agonized screams filled the air.

One soldier’s jaw was torn clean off; another’s spine snapped under brutal force as a bolt punched through his lower back.

They collapsed like marionettes cut from their strings,their weapons clattering helplessly on the floor.

By the time Ravik reached the far end of the chamber, only a handful of his squad remained.

He dove behind a low rise in the floor,a makeshift alcove providing a brief moment of cover.

The men collapsed beside him, panting and bleeding, their eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

Silence enveloped them.

But silence didn’t mean safety.

The statues had ceased their relentless barrage; the mechanical grinding of their reloads faded into an eerie stillness.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of death, making it hard to breathe.

Half of his squad lay broken across the chamber.

Blood splattered against the walls like macabre artwork.

Bodies twitched weakly where bolts had pinned them down, some begging for help with voices that faded into pitiful gurgles.

Ravik’s surviving men turned to him with hollow eyes, despair etched deep into their faces.

“This place is cursed,” one soldier muttered, trembling like a leaf in a storm. “We’re finished.”

In a flash of anger, Ravik slammed him against the wall, pressing a blade to his throat.

“Shut your mouth! You think I came this far just to die here? Do you really believe I’ll crawl back empty-handed?”

The soldier whimpered and nodded desperately.

Ravik shoved him away, rage twisting his scarred features into something fierce. “We push forward! We take what’s ours,no matter what it costs us!”

Suddenly, a deep rumble rolled through the chamber as stone slabs shifted ominously in the far wall, sealing off their escape with a thunderous slam.

The way back was gone.

The Crimson Jackals froze; their last glimmer of hope shattered like glass underfoot.

One soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his head in disbelief. “No… no way back… we’re trapped…”

Ravik’s chest heaved as sweat dripped into his eyes.

His fists trembled,not from fear but from unyielding fury. “Then we move forward!” he growled, voice hoarse with determination.

“If this tomb wants a fight, then by all means, let’s give it one!”

Yet deep inside him lurked a chilling truth: he had lost nearly everything and this tomb had only just begun to take its toll.

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