CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

Maze Arc – Scene: Enme's Narrow Escape

Enme Seiko pushed herself up from the moss-stained floor, brushing gravel off her scraped palms. Her breathing was shallow, heart drumming in her ears — not from pain, but from the silence.

Too quiet. No Morgz. No Karl. Not even Zans' snarky jokes.

She glanced around.

Dead stone corridors stretched infinitely in all directions. Then she saw them — four statues, motionless, facing her like silent sentinels. Twisted humanoid shapes with expressionless faces… if they had faces at all.

Enme scoffed, wiping sweat off her brow.

"Creepy. But I've dealt with worse fans at airport terminals."

She turned her back on them confidently.

A whisper of movement. A breath of wind.

Then instinct screamed.

Her entire body snapped around — just in time to see a statue's jagged claw inches from her throat, mid-lunge.

She gasped, stumbled back. The statue froze again, its blade-like fingers poised mid-air, as if caught cheating at a game it was supposed to follow silently.

"Y-You were gonna—!"

She didn't finish. Her hands snapped together, forming her signature aetherial seal.

A brilliant green hexagon of light exploded into form, caging the statue in a transparent cube.

She exhaled hard.

"That was way too close…"

She forced a grin.

"But this is my game now. Go ahead and try—nothing breaks my barriers."

The statue remained still for a heartbeat.

Then — CRACK.

The barrier shook.

Enme blinked.

"Huh…?"

Another hit. Then another.

The statue's claws slammed into the inside of the barrier — over and over, each strike spider-webbing the glowing walls with fissures. The others moved too. Not lunging. Not running. Just walking, slowly, toward the barrier's edge, ignoring the rule entirely.

"Wait—no no no, that's not how this works. You're not supposed to move!"

She backed up a step, lips parted.

One statue raised both fists and smashed down, sending a ripple of cracks across her shield.

"What the hell are these things…?!"

The smug confidence drained from her voice. Her pupils shrank.

A low hum built inside her ears — panic.

"Barriers don't break! They don't break like this!"

CRACK! The cube flared and flickered.

Then, another step back. Her heel caught on a protruding stone. She nearly fell.

"Shit—think, think—!"

The statues loomed closer.

The only thing between her and that cold, merciless stone… was cracking.

And they hadn't blinked once.

Maze Arc – Scene: Enme's First Kill In The Maze

The barrier cracked again — louder this time. Like lightning splintering through glass. Enme's knees trembled, her body tensing to brace for the inevitable collapse.

"No... I'm not dying like this—"

Her eyes narrowed.

Then an idea sparked.

A mad, brilliant idea.

Her fingers moved on their own — forming a new array of seals with astonishing speed. The damaged barrier didn't shatter—it split. Six glowing shards detached and began orbiting her, shimmering like molten emeralds.

"Refracted Arsenal…!"

The shards shifted midair, elongating into gleaming barrier-forged spears. Like crystalline javelins, they hovered around her for a split second—

"Let's see how you like this, freakshow!"

She pointed. The air boomed.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The barrier weapons launched at breakneck speed, punching directly into the joints and limbs of the nearest statue. Its clawed arm was impaled straight through, snapping backward with a bone-cracking noise.

Another spear embedded into its knee. Another in the side of its neck.

"Now—cube mode!"

The spears morphed instantly, each one folding in on itself, transforming into perfect aetherial cubes that locked around their embedded points like traps.

Then—CRUSH.

Each cube contracted violently.

The arm disintegrated. The knee buckled inward. The neck snapped.

The statue twitched once… and then went still.

Enme stood frozen, chest rising and falling in disbelief. Her barrier aura slowly dimmed, leaving a faint shimmer across her skin.

"…No regeneration?"

She blinked again, stepping forward.

"Did I… Did I actually—?"

She kicked the shattered arm, expecting it to slither back.

Nothing.

"Y-You can be killed?"

She looked up at the other statues. They had stopped. Watching. Judging.

And for the first time — they stepped back.

Enme's lips trembled, a victorious smile forming as she laughed under her breath. It was a shaky, exhausted laugh, but there was power in it.

"You better run."

But deep down…

She knew this wasn't over.

The maze wasn't done with her.

Maze Arc – Scene: Enme's Streak of Victory Before the Spiral

The shattered remains of the first statue lay scattered like powdered obsidian.

Enme stood above them, chest heaving, barrier flickering like the last embers of a dying fire.

But her spirit?

Blazing.

"One down… Let's go."

She pivoted. Another statue approached. She didn't flinch.

The Refracted Arsenal bloomed again — seven crystal spears bursting from her shimmering shield. They hunted mid-air, darting toward their targets with surgical precision.

Another statue — crushed. A third — disabled. She sealed its legs, then decapitated it with a cube to the neck.

Enme was in a rhythm now.

Her eyes glowed like twin emerald stars. Every breath became a chant. Every movement, a melody of destruction.

"That's right. You're not divine. You're not invincible."

"You're mine."

She carved her way through a dozen statues. Her barriers danced around her like a blooming lotus — elegant, unbreakable, and beautiful.

But then…

She paused.

Her foot faltered slightly on the cracked stone.

"Huh…?"

A sudden wave of vertigo swept through her.

The shimmering barrier faltered for a fraction of a second, flickering like a dying bulb.

Her knees buckled.

"W-What's… going on…?"

She glanced at her palm.

The light was dimmer.

She opened her status interface.

VYTHRA: 14%… 13%… 12%...

Her eyes widened.

"Wait. Why is it dropping this fast…?"

She looked around.

And froze.

The walls of the maze… were moving.

From every corner, statues emerged. Dozens. No—hundreds.

Every corridor flooded with stony, unmoving eyes.

Some with swords. Others with scythes. Others still with faces too smooth, too wrong—features eroded like forgotten gods.

All of them... staring.

"T-That's not fair. That's not FAIR!"

She began conjuring again—this time shaky. Her cube conversion locked up. Her Refracted Arsenal sputtered.

"Come on… I-I'm not done yet…"

VYTHRA: 10%… 9%… 8%...

One statue leapt.

She reacted just in time — barrier!

But it cracked.

Another.

Another.

She crushed one's chest. It shattered.

But two more came from behind. She spun, impaled them.

7%... 6%...

More spears. More cubes.

4%…

"Just… hold on, Enme—!"

Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyes unfocused.

She tried to form another weapon—but only sparks flared from her fingertips.

"No no no no—"

A slash.

Her shoulder. Blood splattered.

She screamed.

Another barrier — too thin. It was shattered instantly.

The swarm advanced.

Her eyes darted around wildly, tears mixing with sweat and blood.

"WHERE IS THE EXIT?!"

None. Only walls. Endless, suffocating walls.

And statues.

Always statues.

"SOMEBODY—PLEASE—I DON'T WANNA—"

A dozen blades crashed into her barriers.

She dropped to one knee. Her breath hitched.

VYTHRA: 1%

"…I don't wanna die."

Maze Arc – Scene: Enme's Cracked Lullaby

She dropped to her knees, gasping — her hands trembling, fingertips cracked and bleeding.

VYTHRA: 1%

"Not yet… just one more barrier."

Her breath hitched.

A final dome, hastily cast — not elegant, not pretty. Just thick, dense, defensive. A perfect sphere sealed her inside. The glow was dull, dimming — but it was sturdy. For now.

The statues outside were furious. They slammed their stone limbs against the barrier, again and again. Cracks spread like spiderwebs — but the barrier held.

Inside… Enme broke.

"I'm going to die…"

Her whisper echoed.

Her vision blurred — not from blood or pain, but tears. Her lungs were tightening. Her fingers curled around her arms as she hugged herself.

The statues were still out there.

She knew what came next.

But inside that dome… she could finally breathe — or try to.

Her mind drifted. Desperately searching for something — anything — to ground her.

Then… a memory.

Shojiro smiling. Morgz juggling water balls. The fire. The laughter. That night.

That one night… when they asked her to sing.

"You've got a beautiful voice," Max had told her.

"Sing us something to calm our nerves," Karl had joked.

And she did.

A lullaby. A gentle one from the old world.

Her lips quivered. Her throat burned. But she sang.

Soft. Barely audible.

For no one but herself.

The tremors in her voice gave it a brittle, crystalline beauty.

Her barrier thickened. Strengthened.

Her breathing steadied… slightly.

But outside?

The statues had stopped moving.

They were listening.

Heads tilted. Fingers twitching.

Their hollow sockets were turned toward the dome, like predators lured by the scent of fragile hope.

Because they had heard her voice before — her cries, her gasps, her panicked screams.

And now… this lullaby?

It was divine.

They didn't understand music. Or mercy.

But pain that sang?

That… they understood.

And they wanted more.

They began pounding harder.

The barrier shook.

Cracks deepened.

And inside, Enme was still singing — now with tears dripping from her chin, falling onto the floor.

Her voice cracked. Her throat ached.

The barrier cracked louder.

The lullaby… was the last thing between her and agony.

And the statues?

They were waiting patiently for the encore.

Maze Arc – Enme's Ordeal (Scene: The Voice That Shouldn't Sing)

The sound of shattering light was the last defense she had.

Her barrier broke with a crystalline moan — beautiful, fragile… gone.

Enme fell to her knees. Her hands trembled. Her chest burned. She had 1% VYTHRA left — and nothing left to give.

She gasped, whispered to herself:

"They're just statues… statues… I can stall them, I can—"

Then they moved.

Not stomping. Not rushing. Just approaching, like they knew they'd already won.

Her last reflex was instinctual. A humming — the lullaby. The same one she sang long ago to calm the boys after battle.

"Sleep now, close your eyes… the pain can wait 'til light arrives…"

Her lips quivered as she sang it, trying to soothe herself.

The barrier grew thicker from her voice, and for a moment—just a moment—she believed it might hold.

The barrier finally cracked.

A sharp splinter of translucent light flickered, then fell apart — like glass rain breaking the final sky between safety and nightmare. Enme's breath hitched as she clutched her chest, sweat streaking down her pale face, lips trembling. Her last defense—born of desperation and a lullaby—was gone.

She backed up, still humming, still singing the gentle tune under her breath like it would keep her heart from collapsing.

Then they moved.

But they weren't after her life.

They were after the sound.

The statues didn't leap or sprint. They glided—slow, certain, like they already knew they had won. One reached forward and clutched her by the hair, yanking her head upward,lifted her off the ground like a prize, and dragged her out of her own spell.

She screamed. That scream…

The statues paused.

"N-No! Don't—please don't touch me!!"

Its stone fingers twisting her scalp with cruel reverence.

She screamed—more out of fear than pain—but it was exactly what they wanted.

They all leaned closer, like connoisseurs of a fine instrument.

One pressed its palm against her throat, not to choke, but to feel the vibrations of her fear.

And that's when the other statues stopped.

Tilted their heads.

Like they were… listening.

Her voice—raw and shaking—cried out, "Let me go! Please! I'm not your—!"

But they didn't flinch. Not even a blink.

One tilted its head, almost… curious. Another reached forward and dug stone fingers into her shoulder. Blood followed. Then another… and another.

Her scream echoed like a song—and the statues paused, absorbing the melody like a symphony they had long waited to hear.

"No… d-don't…" she whimpered, voice cracking. "P-please… d-don't make me…"

They didn't kill her.

They listened.

Each cry. Each sob. Each wail of pain.

"P-Please—n-not like this… I'm not—don't—STOP!"

Not to silence her… but to devour her music. Because to them, Enme wasn't a warrior. She was an instrument — and pain was the key that unlocked her perfect pitch.

Her voice cracked.

But the statues only leaned closer.

The first cut came. A jagged piece of stone dragged across her ribs — shallow, precise, enough to make her whimper.

Then another. And another.

A symphony of cuts. All measured. All designed to make her sing.

"S-Stop… stop, it h-hurts—p-please—"

Her screams turned hoarse.

Her lullaby was replaced by sobs and broken vowels.

"D-don't touch me! I-I-I c-can't—why won't you j-just k-kill me already…?"

But they wouldn't.

They were enthralled by her agony.

By the music her pain made.

"I-I used to… s-sing for the people I l-love," she sobbed, lips trembling. "N-Now I c-can't even hear myself anymore…"

Her voice began to die before her.

Once a siren of clarity — now a cracked bell, ringing in a mausoleum.

Every hour, a new cry.

Every cry, a new harmony.

"It h-hurts… it h-hurts so much… I d-don't want to b-be… music anymore…"

"M-make it stop… make me deaf… k-kill me if you have to… just don't make me sing…"

But they would not.

Not until her voice was fully broken.

Not until the only sound she made was silence.

Hours passed in the dark, with her voice their favorite soundtrack.

More statues emerged from the shadows. Chains made of petrified Vythra slithered along the floor like snakes. They chained her to the wall, thick bindings that burned and hummed, built not to restrain the body — but to amplify its pain. Before Enme could even summon a barrier shard, they had already wrapped around her wrists, ankles, even her throat, pinning her to a cracked wall like a crucifix of cruelty.Another statue reached out and grazed her throat, almost gently — like tuning a delicate harp.One statue took a small chisel — impossibly sharp — and pressed it beneath her fingernail, slowly twisting.

She screamed again.

Another dragged a blade across her side — shallow, surgical. Blood welled. A third pressed into her calf, etching slow symbols with a hooked tip, breaking skin but never deep enough to kill.

"AHH! P-Please! S-Stop!! STOP!! I-I'm not… I'm not something you p-play!!"

But they did not care.

Her agony became their orchestra.

Each scream a note, each sob a movement.

> "D-Don't m-make me do this! I j-just wanted to protect everyone…! I didn't… I didn't want to be prey—"

A particularly cruel statue opened its chest. Inside was a hollow cavity filled with ridges of stone, like a resonating chamber.

It recorded her cries, amplifying and replaying them in mocking loops, letting her hear herself scream over and over.

Her voice cracked.

Her lullaby was gone.

"I-I can't… I c-can't even hear myself anymore…"

"I… I hate my voice… I hate it…"

They struck again.

Her wrists were bent backward. Her shoulder pulled until it popped. Blood from her thigh was used to paint sigils on the wall behind her, making her pain part of their ritualized art.

She whimpered, voice threadbare.

"K-kill me… please… I c-can't sing anymore… I c-can't even cry…"

And then silence.

Not because they stopped.

But because her voice was gone.

Maze Arc – "Encore"

After her voice breaks

The chamber fell quiet.

Her head slumped, hair soaked in sweat and blood. Her lips trembled without sound.

The statues stood still — as if contemplating their next act.

Enme's barrier aura flickered, proof she was still alive. Just barely.

She hadn't passed out. Not yet.

The lead statue — its jaw eternally open in a silent, eerie scream — moved forward. It raised one long finger, almost reverently, and traced a single line down her neck. A pressure point. A nerve cluster.

"Ghhrk—!" Her body convulsed.

It was electrical stimulation. Crude. Brutal. Effective.

A second statue held her jaw open while the first inserted a needle-thin chisel beneath her tongue — not to damage it, but to stimulate it.

Pain surged. Not slicing pain — spasmodic pain, pain designed to jolt the body into making noise.

"N… no… please… please don't… I-I can't—I can't…"

"I can't scream anymore…"

A third statue dipped its hand in her blood, then smeared it in swirls across her chest — creating a sigil that amplified her nerve endings. A cruel spell. Designed to enhance sensation.

"AHH—!!! NNNH—!!"

"S-Stop it hurts—!! I d-don't want to be your i-instrument—!!"

Her cries began again. Hoarse. Raspy. But sound nonetheless.

The statues twitched with delight, stepping forward like musicians reunited with their violin.

Another statue opened its ribcage again — that cavernous sound-box. As she screamed, it recorded the new cries, and replayed them in dissonant, layered echoes.

"No… no more… not again… why do you like this so much?"

They didn't answer. They couldn't.

But their movements did. Every action was a conductor's baton.

They weren't killing her.

They were composing her.

When her voice failed again, one statue produced a tiny glass orb and gently pressed it against her throat.

Her voice was magically extracted — not to silence her, but to be used later. Preserved like a sample.

"I can feel it—y-you're pulling my voice out of me…"

Her breath hitched. Her body slumped.

"I want… someone to find me… please…"

But the statues weren't finished.

They turned her around.

Re-strapped her wrists.

And began again.

Maze of Still Death – Enme's Last Plea

Inside the pitch-dark depths of the maze, Enme Seiko trembled, her body bound by spectral chains of her own creation — now turned against her. Her body was bruised and battered. Her elegant uniform was torn, hanging loosely from her frame, baring skin and shame in equal measure. Blood smeared her lips from where she'd bitten back scream after scream.

Her voice — that once brought lullabies, comfort, and serenity to her companions — had become the very thing these creatures desired most… not for beauty, but for torment.

She was chained to a cracked marble wall like an ornament. The statues surrounded her silently, stone faces frozen in emotionless reverence — not for her dignity, but her agony.

One stepped forward. Its hand was jagged, sharpened like a chisel, coated with traces of her blood and shattered barrier fragments. It raised the hand again.

But this time, Enme screamed before the strike.

"Wait! Wait, please! I'll sing for you!" she gasped, voice hoarse and uneven, her throat on the edge of collapse. "No more pain… please—let me sing… I'll give you something beautiful! A lullaby. Just... no more—"

Tears poured from her swollen eyes. She dropped her head in defeat. Her once-proud posture, that of a noble Chosen and princess of sealing, was reduced to a collapsed girl making a last-ditch plea. "You want my voice, don't you? Just not like this. I can give it to you... gently. Willingly."

For a moment, silence. The statues didn't move.

It was as if they were... contemplating.

The one nearest to her stepped back. The others did not follow.

Hope sparked in her chest — a tiny, flickering thing.

"I'll sing," she whispered, licking the blood from her lips. "A song from my world. My mother taught it to me..."

She began humming — shakily — a lullaby. The same one she had once sung to Shojiro, Karl, Max, and Morgz around a campfire under starlight. Her voice trembled, haunted by sobs, but it was still hers.

A faint, delicate melody filled the air.

The statues leaned forward.

Their movements were slow. Intrigued.

One statue tilted its head, as if... listening.

Then.

CRACK.

Without warning, a blunt stone knee slammed into Enme's ribcage.

Her voice cracked. The melody shattered mid-note.

She screamed.

And the statues — every one of them — froze.

Not out of horror. Not out of guilt.

But in absolute, rapturous ecstasy.

To them, that was music.

Her cry of pain rang out louder than her lullaby ever had.

"No..." Enme sobbed, voice rasping. "You said you wanted... voice..."

A statue caressed her throat — its hand the same one that had crushed her ribs. Slowly, it trailed from her chin to her collarbone, then hovered above her neck.

They weren't here for beauty.

They were here for ruin.

"No, please—" she begged one last time, tears dripping down her jaw. "I can sing more. I'll try harder. I promise. I'll try—"

The statue raised a clawed finger. A glimmer of cruel curiosity danced behind its hollow eyes.

Then it reached for her neck…

Enme's Collapse – "Please… It's All I Have Left"

The moment that clawed stone hand hovered over her throat, Enme's breathing grew sharp and shallow — panic crashing through her like a tide. Her entire body was trembling, more from despair than pain now. Her barrier magic was long gone. Her energy nearly depleted. Her pride — shattered. Her dignity — stripped.

All she had left…

Was her voice.

And now they wanted that too.

She flinched back with the little strength she had left, her arms still bound high above her head. Her lips parted, shaking, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"No… not this…"

A cracked sob escaped her. "Please… it's all I have left."

The statues tilted their heads again, their faces frozen in an unnatural mockery of curiosity. They moved closer, slow and deliberate, as though savoring her unraveling.

"You already took everything," she whimpered. Her once-confident tone now reduced to the frightened cries of a girl who no longer believed rescue would come.

"I… I can't fight anymore. I can't even scream properly… what more do you want?!"

Her knees buckled, but the chains dug deeper into her skin, holding her upright like a broken doll strung for display.

"I only wanted to help people…" Her voice cracked.

"To protect… to protect my friends… to bring calm. Why won't you let me die already?"

A stone hand gripped her jaw firmly, lifting her face to meet its own cold stare.

Tears streamed down her face freely now.

"I'll sing… again," she begged, delirious.

"Please… I'll try… I'll try to sing for you… a real song, even if it hurts. Just don't—"

The hand moved to her throat.

She screamed, but the sound was dry — her voice breaking like shattered glass.

The statues did not flinch. One raised a jagged finger and slowly drew it across her vocal cords, not enough to kill…

Just enough to mark.

She gasped in horror.

They weren't going to silence her.

They were going to preserve her voice…

And use it however they pleased.

"NO—PLEASE!!" she wailed.

"I'll be good—I'll scream, I'll cry—just don't take it, please! That's the last thing I—"

She was cut off by a gurgled rasp.

Pain. Blinding pain.

Her body convulsed as the statue drove its hand into her throat, fingers curling around the tender, trembling muscles deep inside. Enme let out one final, guttural shriek — a sound that no human should ever make.

Then came silence.

The statues stepped back… one of them gently cradling a still-warm piece of her vocal cords in its hand like a prize.

Enme was left slumped against the wall, blood dripping down her chest. Still alive. Still conscious. But with no voice… no strength… and no tears left to cry.

For a moment, the statues simply watched her.

Studying her like an artist stares at a ruined canvas.

A broken instrument… no longer capable of screaming.

Enme's Disposal – "You Are No Longer Needed"

Her breath was faint.

Her voice — gone.

Her body — bloodied, bruised, and trembling from shock.

Enme Seiko, the once-proud princess of sealing, slumped in her restraints like a lifeless puppet. Her arms hung limp in their bindings, head drooped, eyes unfocused and glazed in silent horror.

The statues didn't celebrate. They didn't gloat.

They simply turned — as if her usefulness had expired.

The statue that extracted her vocal cords observed its prize in eerie silence. Its jagged fingers clutched the fleshy strand reverently, holding it up like a sacred artifact. Then, without hesitation, it inserted the blood-slick cords into its own throat cavity.

A dry, hissing rattle echoed through the air — not a voice, but an attempt.

It couldn't replicate her tone.

It didn't matter.

They had what they came for.

The other statues stepped forward without hesitation.

One grabbed her hair again, yanking her head up. Another reached for her legs. A third placed stony fingers on her abdomen.

They began to disassemble her.

Not swiftly.

Not mercifully.

Piece by piece.

Her limbs were wrenched from their sockets — not severed, but torn slowly, ligaments snapping one at a time like violin strings under strain.

One statue caved in her chest just enough to crush her lungs — a cruel echo of the beautiful voice that once came from deep within.

Another scooped out her eye — not for information, but curiosity.

They carved symbols into her skin, like ancient priests branding a failed offering. They debated, silently, where to preserve the remainder of her flesh. Her throat cavity was the most obvious. Others marked her ribcage. One statue even placed a piece of her broken barrier crystal where her heart had been, watching curiously as it flickered briefly… then died.

Through it all…

She stayed awake.

Barely conscious.

But fully aware.

There were no screams.

No strength left for them.

Just trembling breaths.

And soft, pathetic gurgles of soundless agony.

Then, with nothing left to gain — no more instruments to extract — the statues lifted her shredded body from the wall.

They looked at her for a long, dreadful moment.

And then—

They snapped her neck.

Like discarding a broken puppet.

Her body collapsed in a heap of blood and ruin.

Her blood soaked into the stone floor of the maze, pooling beneath her discarded limbs. The statues didn't even turn back. They walked away silently, taking her preserved vocal cords with them like an artifact, leaving her corpse to rot in cold darkness.