CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

THE FALL

The entire forest floor collapsed beneath their feet — but instead of falling into darkness, they were pulled in all directions.

Reality warped like stretched rubber.

They didn't fall down.

They fell apart.

SPLIT SEQUENCE

— Shojiro

He lands in a narrow stone hallway, muscles tensed. His voice echoes when he shouts.

> "Leone? Max? Anyone!?"

Silence.

— Leone

She hits the floor in a crouch, eyes darting. She immediately checks her hands — still glowing faintly.

"Yggdrasil's connection is... fuzzy. Damn it."

She peers down a twisting corridor of impossibly smooth stone.

— Karl

Metal screeches against rock as his chassis scrapes to a halt. Nanites ripple over his arms.

"Diagnostic error: No signal from team. This is bad."

He extends a drone, which immediately glitches out.

— Alex

She floats slightly above the ground, her eyes narrowed. She tries to link minds.

"No good... blocked. Like something's jamming me."

The walls seem to pulse — not alive, but aware.

— Zans

He appears alone in darkness, except for a single torch embedded in the wall behind him. Shadows swirl at his feet.

"Great. I'm in a horror movie."

He turns to move — and the torch vanishes.

— Enme

She braces herself as she falls, landing softly on a conjured barrier platform.

"...Maze-type enchantment. Obvious."

She looks up and around. The sky is gone.

Morgz

He slams into a stone floor and immediately summons water from the walls.

"Is this some kinda trap?! Where is everyone?!"

Dripping echoes around him like distant whispers.

— Max

He lands with a grunt and stands up, already readying an arrow.

"Okay. I know a trap when I see one."

He draws his crossbow as his steps echo through a seemingly infinite hallway.

Each Chosen stares down a different corridor of the same cursed maze.

Same construction. Same silence.

But they are utterly alone.

"The Maze of Stillness had opened its jaws. And it had swallowed the Chosen whole."

Scene: Leone's Fracture — The Statue Maze

Her bare feet padded against the cold stone. The maze was silent—too silent. The trees were gone. The sky was gone. Just wall after wall. Stone, unbreakable, towering. No wind. No echoes. Just… breath. Her own.

"Hello?" Leone called softly, the word swallowed by the silence.

She wandered, arms hugging herself. The quiet pressed in, like a scream she couldn't hear.

That's when she bumped into it.

A statue. Tall. Pale. Its expression was blank, its eyes lidless.

"Didn't see you there..." she whispered, trying to laugh it off. She moved around it, her form brushing the edge of its unmoving hand.

The corridor behind her felt too dark.

Something shifted in the air.

She turned her back—just for a moment.

CRACK.

A flash of searing agony burst behind her eyes as her neck twisted sharply—violently. Her vision spun. She couldn't move her arms. Couldn't scream.

Her body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

Her mind didn't go immediately. She was still there, trapped inside the dying shell.

("No… no, no—Not like this—")

Yggdrasil pulsed.

Her second life ignited.

Ghoul Form: Fury and Fear

Her hair turned ash-white, her skin greyed, her eyes glowed.

Regeneration surged through her veins.

And with it—rage.Her body twisted and morphed—bones stretched, muscles hardened, her eyes glowing with spectral green. A feral roar tore from her throat as she crushed the statue's face in a single blow.

"You… piece of SHIT!"

"I'm not dying here."

She lunged.

Crushed the first statue's skull.

Second—shattered its arm.

Third—sent it flying.

Victory?

Another crash. And another.

No.

The statues rose.

Unbroken.

And then… they closed in.

But then she saw it… the stone was reforming.

"No..."

She slammed her fist into a statue—it barely flinched.

Three fell.

They stood back up.

She tore one in half.

It pulled itself together.

Her claws dug into another's throat.

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!"

It started as a fight.

Then it became survival.

Then it became punishment.

And then…

It became sport.

They didn't want to kill her.

Not yet.

They wanted to hear her break.

She fought.

Fought like a beast in a cage.

But each swing drained her.

Each burst of strength bled her stamina dry.

And for every blow she dealt…

They gave ten back.

Her shoulder dislocated.

It healed.

Her spine cracked.

It healed.

Her jaw shattered.

It healed.

They let her regenerate.

And then they'd start again.

She stopped screaming after the first hour.

She started pleading in the second.

"Stop—please just stop—"

"I'm sorry—whatever I did—please—just—"

She whimpered beneath a hail of fists.

Behind her—movement. Statues were surrounding her.

One. Two. Three. Four. All staring.

They were surrounding her—more of them. All of them facing her now. Watching.

She backed up slowly. Her claws scraped the stone. "Stay back. I mean it."

They didn't move.

She blinked.

That was all it took

She tried to run.

Hands grabbed her legs, her ribs, her arms. Cold, lifeless stone fingers digging into her muscles and bones. She thrashed, but it didn't matter.

Hands—cold, jagged—wrapped around her legs and yanked her backward.

"No! LET GO!"

Her body healed again—ribs clicking back into place.

Then one statue ripped them out.

Again.

She vomited blood.

"Please—stop… please I—I can't—I can't anymore—"

Her knees gave in.

One statue grabbed her leg. Snapped it at the knee.

It healed.

They did it again.

"Why… why are you doing this?!"

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—please, just let me go…"

Another statue bashed her hand into mush.

It regrew.

Another broke her teeth.

They came back.

One dislocated her jaw just to watch her scream soundlessly.

"I'll do anything! I'll crawl—I'll obey—just don't—don't hurt me anymore—!"

She wasn't a warrior anymore.

She was a girl crying in the dark,

smeared in her own blood,

pleading with rocks that had no hearts.

Statues' POV

They did not speak.

They did not think as humans do.

But they understood her.

They heard her pleas.

And they chose not to listen.

They could've ended her.

They didn't.

The Statues' Silent Delight

She was strong.

They liked that.

Because the strong always take the longest to scream.

They could feel it in her soul: the pride, the legacy, the belief that she was unbreakable.

So they broke her slower.

Held her down longer.

Pulled her fingers out of socket, one by one.

Tore at her stomach with jagged, stony claws.

She healed.

They did it again.

Because watching her suffer—

Watching her crawl back up again and again

Watching her hope, and then crush it—

That was the entertainment.

To them, she wasn't a warrior.

She was a toy that bled.

A song of agony on repeat.

And they wanted to hear the last note.

Her claws raked the ground, leaving long red lines as her body was pulled into the darkness. The statues weren't just dragging her.

They were smiling now.

She screamed.

They began to crush.

Her ribs bent inwards with wet cracks. Her arms were pinned, her regeneration working in overdrive—but every healing cell just prolonged the pain. Bone snapped. Muscle shredded. Her scream became a wet, guttural sob.

"Stop… I-I don't want to die like this…"

They didn't care about pain. They didn't bleed. They just crushed. Slowly.

"Agh—!! I—STOP—PLEASE!!"

Bones cracked. Regeneration tried to keep up—but it only prolonged her agony. Her organs twisted. Her spine bent the wrong way. Her body didn't shut down. It kept healing.

She howled, biting one of the arms—but it didn't flinch.

Another statue grabbed her jaw and began pulling her mouth open. Too wide. Too far.

"MAKE IT STOP!!" she screamed.

But the maze didn't listen.

Her claws shredded her own arms as she tried to break free. Her regeneration only prolonged her suffering—bones cracked and healed and cracked again.

She had no strength left.

Her claws were broken.

Her healing slowed.

Her ghoul form flickered.

One statue placed its heel on her head—not to crush—just to hold.

Another twisted her arm slowly, deliberately.

She sobbed into the floor.

No screams left.

No fight left.

Just words.

"Please… please, just let me die…"

"Please kill me…"

"Please…"

Her voice was barely a whisper now.

She wasn't regenerating fast anymore.

She wasn't resisting.

She just wanted it to end.

And Leone whispered—

"Please… just kill me…"

"KILL ME ALREADY!!" she shrieked.

They didn't.

They just broke her slowly.

A hundred deaths in one. Her screams became sobs. Then whispers. Then silence.

She was screaming so hard she couldn't even hear herself.

Eventually, she couldn't scream at all.

Then: silence.

Her heart burst. She was still alive. Her brain refused to shut down.

Then…

No scream.

No light.

Just tears.

The statues obliged.

The statues circled.

And this time, they did not play.

They ripped her in two,

slowly—mercifully.

She died weeping.

Her last breath was a thank you.

Her body stopped healing.

And then they tore it apart for the last time.

Her second death came not with pain—

But with the mercy of silence.

Black.

Spectre Form: Last Stand

She awakened to silence.

She didn't scream this time. She didn't move.

Her eyes blinked open and stared into the maze's suffocating dark.

"…please," she whispered. "Not again…"

Her body was light. Translucent. Spectre Form. Her final life.

She stood, shakily, floating above the blood-soaked ground. The ghoul inside her was gone—burned out. The muscles no longer pulsed. The bones no longer ached.

One last chance.

Her soul shimmered back into being—ethereal, translucent. A living spirit of vengeance.

She was glowing now. Her presence lit up the entire maze corridor, revealing hundreds of statues in perfect rows… waiting. Layered behind one another. A sea of death.

Now it was just the cold.

But it was merciful.

For a time.

Leone clenched her fists.

"If you're gonna kill me again—come and f***ing try."

She hovered through the halls, her spectral chains drifting like ribbons, glowing faintly purple. Wherever they touched, the walls lit up—and the statues froze. Dozens of them. No longer creeping. No longer inching closer.

She hurled her chains forward, divine constructs that tore the air itself. They whipped around the nearest statue, compressing it to dust. Light flared around her, weakening the effect of the cursed constructs.

She smiled. A smile broken by exhaustion.

"You're scared of the light… good…" Her voice cracked.

But the light—her light—wasn't infinite.

It flickered.

The light was fading.

"No. No, no, please no…" She looked at her arms. They were glitching—flickering in and out like static.

Her time was running out.

She clenched her fists. "Just a little longer… Please… just let me make it out this time."

But the walls didn't listen.

A whisper behind her. Stone grinding.

She spun—a statue blinked.

The light had dimmed just enough.

It was moving again.

"PLEASE!!" she screamed, raising her chains and wrapping them around herself, trying to glow brighter. Trying to hold onto that form a few seconds more.

The statue lunged.

Another blink.

Two more were behind it.

Then ten.

Then—

Her foot touched stone and her chains flickered out.

"No no NO—!!"

She tried to run. Her leg vanished mid-step.

"MOVE!" she screamed at her own body. "Please, just one more second—!"

Too late.

Her light vanished.

The statues surged forward all at once.

The Spectre form was tearing away from her, limb by limb, as the statues closed in.

"I'M STILL ALIVE!! I'M STILL—!!"

They grabbed her again.

Her voice cracked, not with rage, but with pure, childlike terror.

"Don't hurt me anymore… please don't hurt me anymore…"

A hand pressed against her face.

The last thing she saw was a frozen wall of stone eyes… watching.

Then, darkness.

She gasped.

"No, no—please—not now!"

Her form grew dim. Her feet hit the ground. Her legs turned solid.

All around her, statues twitched.

Revival

In the distance, Yggdrasil's roots stirred beneath the earth. One pulse. One heartbeat.

"Your story is not done yet."

A glimmer of light shined from Leone's chest.

Her soul would return. Her pain would fade.

But the memory of that moment—the absolute helplessness, the suffocating terror, and the feeling of being torn apart while alive—would never leave her.

Not even after she rose again.