Chapter 337: Ravik’s Hell [ 2 ]

The silence that enveloped the chamber after the stone wall slammed shut felt heavier than a storm of arrows raining down.

It pressed down on the survivors like an oppressive weight, one they couldn’t shake off.

The Crimson Jackals staggered to their feet, battered and bloodied, their torches casting weak circles of light across the gruesome scene.

The floor resembled a butcher’s slab,bodies sprawled at grotesque angles, skewered and nailed to the tiles.

Pools of blood mirrored the flickering flames, transforming the entire chamber into a haunting reflection of crimson.

The stench was unbearable,iron mingled with sweat and the faint rot of ruptured organs.

One man leaned against the wall, his chest heaving as a bolt jutted from his side, blood dripping in a steady rhythm.

He tried to speak but only managed a desperate wheeze.

His comrades glanced at him briefly before looking away; no one wanted to help.

They were too busy holding themselves together.

“Gods…” another muttered, staring blankly at the bodies.

His hands trembled so violently he nearly dropped his weapon. “Half of us,more than half,gone. In one chamber. We’re finished! We’ll never get out.”

His words echoed ominously through the stillness like a curse.

Ravik’s eyes snapped to him, igniting with fury. “Shut it!” His voice cracked like a whip.

But the man continued muttering, rocking back and forth in despair. “Finished… all finished.”

In one swift motion, Ravik drew his blade,a single step forward and then slash! The mutterer’s throat opened in a gruesome red smile as he collapsed, twitching and gurgling on his own blood.

The others froze in horror.

Ravik didn’t flinch; he stood over the corpse with his blade dripping crimson.

His gaze swept over his comrades like a predator sizing up its prey. “Anyone else want to spread fear? Anyone else want to break?”

Silence answered him.

The chamber fell quiet once more except for the crackle of torches and faint groans from those dying on the floor.

Ravik sheathed his blade with labored breaths; his hands shook,not from fear but from rage and obsession.

He refused to let this tomb claim victory.

Turning toward the sealed wall at the far end, he clenched his jaw tightly as veins bulged along his neck.

“There’s always a way forward! Always! The Azurians built these halls to test us to weed out weakness and we are not weak! We will prove it!”

His men exchanged uneasy glances but dared not speak; their faces betrayed their doubt: they didn’t believe him.

One wounded soldier stumbled forward, clutching his bleeding stomach. “Captain… we need to fall back… find another way… we can’t…”

Behind them loomed that impenetrable wall, sealed and final.

The soldier’s eyes widened in horror as the chilling truth dawned on him.

His knees buckled, and he slid down against the cold stone wall, whimpering like a lost child.

Meanwhile, Ravik paced the chamber like a caged beast, his gaze darting over the silent statues that lined the walls.

Their crossbows were now still, their blank stone faces gazing forward with an unsettling indifference.

The floor glistened ominously, slick with blood,evidence of their desperate struggle.

He halted at the center of the room, lifting his chin defiantly. “This tomb won’t break me! Do you hear me? I’ll outlast it! I’ll rip its treasure from its very guts if I have to tear it apart stone by stone!”

Jarek finally stepped forward. His voice was low and cautious.

“Captain… we’ve lost too much already. The men need rest; they’re bleeding out. We need a plan,not another death march.”

Ravik’s eyes snapped to Jarek’s face. For a fleeting moment, madness and clarity clashed within him before he managed a thin, terrible smile.

“Rest? Here? Surrounded by corpses while this tomb waits to swallow us whole? No way, Veynar! The only option is forward!”

“But where?” Veynar pressed on, his hand trembling as he gestured around the chamber. “The walls are sealed tight! There’s no way forward!”

Ravik stepped closer until their noses nearly touched, his voice dropping to an intense growl. “Then I’ll make one.”

The remaining survivors watched in uneasy silence.

One soldier coughed up blood and slumped to the floor while another hastily wrapped a strip of cloth around his mangled arm,the fabric soaking crimson in mere seconds. With every heartbeat, their strength ebbed away.

But Ravik paid them no mind; he stalked along the edges of the chamber like a predator searching for prey,his hands tracing the walls for seams or cracks that might reveal an escape route.

His torchlight flickered across faint carvings,patterns twisting and curling like ancient vines,so worn they were almost invisible.

A puzzle….a cruel test.

He grinned wildly, unhinged by desperation and determination. “There! The way forward! This tomb thinks it’s clever hiding its path in plain sight,but I see it! I always see it!”

His men didn’t share his confidence; they watched with hollow eyes too drained to argue.

One whispered to another under his breath: “He’s losing it.”

Ravik heard every word; his head whipped around with blazing fury.

In an instant, his blade flashed again,a swift arc that severed the whisperer’s head from its body, sending it rolling across the floor before settling into a pool of blood that splattered against nearby stones.

The chamber was thick with a stench that clawed at the senses,copper, smoke, and an overwhelming wave of fear.

The remaining Jackals recoiled, their faces etched with terror as Ravik’s shadow loomed ominously over them in the flickering torchlight.

“Lose faith again,” he hissed, his voice dripping with menace, “and I’ll gut you myself.”

An eerie silence enveloped the room.

Ravik’s chest heaved as he fought to contain the madness swirling within him.

His eyes shone like feverish coals; the darkness had taken root deep inside him.

In its own twisted way, the tomb had triumphed,not through death but by dismantling his very essence piece by piece until all that remained was a relentless obsession and a thirst for blood.

He pressed his hand against the ancient wall, smearing fresh blood over intricate carvings while scrutinizing them intently.

His voice dropped to a near reverent whisper. “You think you’re stronger than me? You believe you can take everything? No way. I will outlast you. I’ll strip you bare until there’s nothing left. The treasure will be mine.”

Behind him, his surviving men sank to the floor in despair, their gazes averted from the haunting statues that surrounded them.

The faint sounds of the dead groaning filled their ears,a chilling reminder of what lay beyond.

Then came a low groan from deep within the chamber itself, almost mocking them.

The carvings pulsed faintly in response to Ravik’s vow, as if they were alive and listening.

The men flinched at this eerie display while Ravik only grinned wider,a predator savoring his moment.

The tomb was listening.

And Ravik was prepared to spill every last drop of blood to answer its call.

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