Fallen desperately searched for a way out as many of the branches slowly twisted into spears aimed at him.

‘Damn it, damn it,’ he frantically looked for anywhere to take shelter before his gaze was drawn to the ruby eye. It seemed to pulse with dark energy, prompting Fallen to wonder:

‘What is it?’

He gripped the hilt of his dagger, feeling the scars and the body of the carved man as it dug into his skin.

‘I have to think. Think! Think!’

He could see the long, sharp crimson branch-spears forming on the branch barricade, and if he didn’t calm down and think fast… they were going to kill him.

‘I should have known… Vulgar, why would he just let me roam around his home and find his heart so easily… There had to be a twist.’

He looked to the ruby eye, ‘His people are protecting him, whatever they are.’

The shrine’s atmosphere grew even more oppressive as the crimson branches finished twisting and contorting like serpents and morphed into sharp, deadly spears.

‘DAMN IT!’ Fallen gritted his teeth as his mind remained blank.

His body instinctively took a defensive stance, and he hurriedly untied the chain of his dagger from his waist, his hands shaking. Though the only professional combative weapons he knew were guns and machetes, he had to try his best to use this dagger. After all, it was all he had—probably a pity point from Vulgar too.

He stepped back, holding the dagger in his left hand and the end of the chain, a small black ball, in his right. The chain itself looked to be around 200 cm as it dangled slightly off the floor.

Fallen’s eyes frantically darted across the shrine as he tried his best to keep an eye on every fully formed spear, though luckily there were still only a couple… for now. His eyes widened in terror as the branches to his right, now spear-like, on the wall nearest to him, reared back and shot toward him with terrifying speed.

‘1, 2, 3, 4…’ The air was filled with the sound of whooshing and whistling as the deadly projectiles sliced through the air.

With every ounce of agility he could muster, Fallen dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the first spear that slammed into the ground with a resounding thud.

“Gar!!!” He could feel the rush of air as another spear whizzed past his head, grazing his ear and leaving a sharp sting in its wake. It pushed him back, and he almost fell but caught himself. Heart pounding, breaths heavy and grip tightened, he ducked and weaved, each movement a desperate attempt to evade the onslaught.

The spears came relentlessly—a practical barrage. More were formed, replacing those already fired. The sound of wood splintering and cracking filled the shrine as the spears struck the ground and walls with unerring accuracy.

Despite his best efforts, “Ah!!!” Fallen felt the sting of a spear slicing across his right arm, the pain sharp and immediate as he dropped his dagger, its clank echoing in the silence. Blood dripped from the wound as he panted and heaved, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. Every movement was a matter of life and death, and the relentless assault showed no signs of stopping.

The ruby eye watched with unblinking malice, its sinister glow casting an eerie light on the scene as its pupil tracked his every movement. Fallen’s breaths came in ragged gasps, but his determination endured as tears welled in his eyes from the pain.

He dodged and rolled, using every ounce of his strength to stay ahead of the deadly spears. “Arg!” A spear slammed beside his feet, sending him to the floor.

‘No! No!’ he desperately started crawling as more spears formed. He tried to get to his feet but immediately fell to his knees.

‘My ankle!’

‘No!’ He kept trying before his head instinctively snapped up to see another spear coming for him. He threw himself to the side, and the spear slammed into the floor, sending debris mere inches from his face.

He lay on the floor, panting, before pushing himself to his stomach and crawling toward the altar, his vision blurring and doubling, and his ears ringing.

‘I have… I have to make it,’ he crawled desperately.

The shrine bore the brunt of the relentless assault from the spear-like branches. The spears slammed into the ancient stone floor, leaving gouges and cracks that spread like spider webs. The sound of splintering wood and shattering stone echoed through the chamber as fragments of stone and debris littered the floor, creating a treacherous landscape.

The only thing that remained unharmed was the obsidian altar, which stood tall and unbothered as the ruby eye atop it glowed with intensity, casting shadows across the damaged shrine. The branches, now twisted and broken, lay scattered across the floor, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light. The gnarled trees appeared grotesque, their branches mingling and clinging to every wall of the shrine.

The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of splintered wood as small chunks of debris floated in the air, making it difficult for Fallen to breathe.

‘The… altar.’

Fallen crawled toward it with all his strength, though there was quite a distance between them.

“A-ah!” Fallen gasped.