The Smiling Sword: Hunt for the Muri Khan

Chapter 2: The Echoing Steps



The blue stones beneath Aren's boots glowed brighter with each step, casting shifting shadows on the vine-choked walls around him. The air felt damp and heavy, carrying the scent of moss and something older;something that had been waiting in the dark for centuries.

He moved carefully now, blade drawn and ready. Though he often wore a grin, every muscle in his body was coiled tight, prepared for whatever might leap out of the gloom.After a few narrow turns, the tunnel widened into a vast chamber. Pillars carved with snarling beasts and winding serpents rose toward a cracked stone ceiling far above. Somewhere in the darkness, water dripped steadily, each drop echoing like a distant heartbeat.

In the center of the room stood a circular black platform, its edges lined with runes that glowed faintly with the same blue light as the stones he had followed. Aren stepped closer, studying the symbols.

A small inscription in the center caught his eye, nearly hidden beneath years of grime and moss. He crouched and brushed it clean with his sleeve.

"Speak the truth or be swallowed by silence."

Aren's brow furrowed. He stayed silent for a long moment, tapping the hilt of his sword against his palm as he thought.

Then, the ground beneath the platform began to tremble. Stone tiles along the walls shifted, revealing thin slits—traps ready to spring.

He drew in a steady breath. "Truth, huh?" His voice was quieter now, steadier.

"I'm terrified of failing. I hide it behind my jokes because if I stop laughing… I remember what it feels like to lose someone. To feel helpless."

His confession seemed to hang in the air, echoing against the stone walls. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the runes burst into brilliant light, flooding the chamber. Slowly, the slits in the walls closed, and the trembling ground fell still.

Aren let out a shaky exhale and lowered his sword. He glanced up, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

At the far end of the chamber, a narrow staircase carved directly into the rock revealed itself, leading deeper into the ruin.

"Guess that was enough honesty for today," he murmured, wiping sweat from his brow.

Without hesitating, he stepped toward the stairs. The air grew colder as he descended, and a low, distant drumbeat rose from below, echoing like a challenge.

His grip on the sword tightened, his eyes sharp and alert.

Whatever waited in the depths, Aren was ready.

This was exactly the kind of trial he had been born for.He relaxed his shoulders before answering: "Truth, huh?" There was a softness in his voice now. "I'm terrified of failing. I hide it behind my jokes because if I stop laughing I remember what it's like to lose someone. How it feels to be powerless."

A heavy silence followed, pregnant with his words. The stone walls were as silent as the winds, and the moment was everything.

Then the runes erupted into blinding light and the chamber filled with them. Grates set within the walls began to close slits slowly while the ground stilled its shaking.

Aren drew a breath and exhaled softly and shakily all at once. With the sword at hand, he relaxed his hold. As if detached from the profoundness of the moment, he looked up to the far edges of the chamber lit with soft glow of freshly kindled fire; a broad grin danced on his lips.

As if to mock him, he heard his own thoughts whispering challenges. A grin bloomed fuller upon his lips.

"Guess that was enough honesty for today," he said out loud and with head held high strode forward to the newly unveiled stairs. After taking the first few steps he literally felt the air around him shifting while pulses of a drum filled the still echo all around.

He could feel the edges of his tip warming to a hot embers while gripping onto the sword as if it were a lifeline.

Whatever awaited him at the bottom, he sharpened his gaze knowing he was perfectly prepared for this kind of challenge.


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