The Stellate Vortex

Keith had salvaged the undamaged armor from the statues and spent days piecing it together. He now had a makeshift suit to protect himself, though it was far from perfect. He'd mapped out the entire castle, but most of it contained useless items—broken furniture, crumbling books, and odd relics with no apparent purpose.

Today was the day. He had no choice but to face the beast. Either he killed it and escaped, or he died trying.

As he lay resting, she came to him, her small frame bouncing with energy.

"Papa, story!" she demanded, sitting down next to him.

He blinked. This might be the last time I ever tell her a story, he thought grimly. A lump formed in his throat, but he forced a smile. "Alright, sure."

She smiled brightly, leaning closer as he began.

"Once, there was a boy," he started, "in a world filled with magic. But he didn't have any magic of his own. Everyone mocked him for it."

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Well," he continued, "because he was different. People didn't like that he didn't have magic."

"Oh," she said softly.

"But he didn't give up. He kept practicing, and eventually, he learned magic—snow magic. It wasn't very strong, but it was magic. He thought people would finally accept him, but they didn't."

"Why not?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"That's the thing about people," Keith said. "If you don't have something and later gain it, they don't like it. They want the weak to stay weak."

She frowned but stayed quiet, listening intently.

"Still," Keith went on, "the boy didn't let it break him. He went on adventures, faced dangers alone, and along the way, he found people he could trust—and people who trusted him."

"But… didn't they hate him?" she asked.

"Yes, many did," Keith admitted. "But not everyone. Even when you think everyone hates you, there will always be people who love you for who you are."

The girl looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she shook her head. "This bad story."

Keith blinked, surprised. "Huh?"

"Boring," she declared before getting up and going back to play with her rocks.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Tough critic," he muttered.

Deciding to leave when she was asleep, Keith joined her, playing along with her games. For hours, they chased each other around, stacked rocks, and even roleplayed some of her favorite strange scenarios.

Finally, she began to tire, her small frame swaying with exhaustion.

"Papa?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hm?"

"Will you go to work?"

He froze, the question hitting harder than he expected. He couldn't lie to her. Not fully. "Not yet," he said softly.

"Okay." She smiled and nestled into her makeshift bed. Moments later, she was asleep.

Keith sat there, watching her for twenty minutes. His thoughts raced, doubts creeping in with every second. But in the end, he had no choice.

He stood, geared up, and secured the patched armor to his body. The crude pieces felt heavy, but he would need every ounce of protection. He glanced at the sketches of the tiger again.

I have to win.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

As he walked down the hallway, the sight of the collapsed statues brought a faint, bitter smile to his face. Each pile of broken armor was a reminder of what he had overcome—and what was still to come.

Keith stood before the massive door, its weathered surface towering over him. He took deep, steadying breaths before pushing it open. Despite its enormous size, it creaked open with surprising ease, revealing a cavernous room within.

His eyes landed on the giant tiger sprawled in the center of the room. It looked... frail. Its ribs jutted out beneath its once-majestic fur, and its massive frame was gaunt. For a moment, he thought it was dead.

"What the…" He muttered under his breath, cautiously stepping forward. "Oh, wait. Of course, it probably starved."

The room reeked of decay. Bones littered the ground, some broken, others gnawed clean. Among the remains, a rusted sword caught his eye. Keith knelt beside it, the weight of the scene pressing down on him.

"This could be her real mother..." he murmured, clasping his hands together. He bowed his head and silently prayed. "May you find peace."

The moment of reverence was cut short as the ground trembled beneath him. His eyes shot open, and he spun around just in time to see the tiger lunging at him.

Keith barely managed to raise his arms, the beast's jaws snapping down on his armored forearm. The metal groaned under the pressure, threatening to break. Gritting his teeth, Keith slipped his arm free of the armor and stumbled back as the tiger bit down, crushing the metal.

It spat the mangled piece aside, growling hungrily, its desperation clear.

"It's not dead after all…" Keith muttered, gripping his weapon tightly.

The tiger charged, its emaciated frame deceptively fast. Keith met its charge, diving low and driving his rusted sword upward. The blade sank into its belly as the tiger soared over him. It let out a guttural roar, blood splattering across the floor.

As the beast thrashed in pain, Keith retrieved his flail, swinging it with all his might. The spiked head struck the tiger's skull, blinding it in one eye. Seizing the opportunity, Keith darted toward its blind side, but the tiger reacted faster than expected.

With a swift turn, it lashed out with a massive paw.

The blow sent Keith sprawling, his armor tearing under the tiger's claws. He gasped, looking down to see three deep gashes across his torso. Blood seeped through his bandages, staining them crimson.

The tiger circled him, its one good eye gleaming with predatory intent.

Keith coughed, struggling to his feet. His breathing was shallow, his mind racing.

I can't die here because of hannibal… but then again, if this beast is part of the sacrifice Amun was talking about, maybe it's the one thing that is supposed kill me.

The tiger pounced again, its movements fueled by primal desperation. Keith narrowly evaded, trying to buy himself time.

Gripping his sword tightly, he struck again, aiming for the tiger's exposed side. But the beast met his attack with its claws, deflecting the blade. Keith slid beneath it, attempting the same tactic as before, but the tiger leaped high into the air, avoiding his strike.

The moment it landed, it dashed at him with terrifying speed. Keith barely had time to react as it slammed into him. His patched-together armor absorbed most of the impact, but the force still left him breathless.

Struggling to his feet, he discarded the bent pieces of metal, his body aching from the repeated blows. The tiger, though clearly weakened, still moved with a feral ferocity that defied its emaciated state.

Keith's gaze darted around the room until it landed on a fallen spear. Without hesitation, he grabbed it.

The tiger charged again, its speed a blur. Keith braced himself, planting the spear. As the beast lunged, the spear struck true, piercing its chest.

The tiger howled in agony, its movements frantic as it tried to dislodge the weapon. Keith's breath was ragged.

He snatched his sword, ready to deliver the final blow. But the tiger, despite its injuries, refused to go down easily. It twisted and began to dart around the room, staying just out of reach.

"YOU LITTLE—STOP RUNNING, YOU BASTARD!" Keith bellowed, his frustration boiling over as he gave chase. His grip tightened on the sword, each breath feeling heavier than the last.

Keith was chasing the tiger when a faint creaking sound caught his attention. His head snapped toward the noise, and his heart sank. The door to the room was opening.

Standing in the doorway was the girl, her small frame illuminated by the dim light. She looked around, her voice carrying an innocent curiosity that chilled him to his core.

"Papa?"

Keith's eyes widened in sheer panic. "WAIT, NO!"

He turned to the tiger. Its head had already swiveled toward her, and with a deafening roar, it charged. That sudden burst of speed—it was happening again.

The girl stood frozen, her tiny frame no match for the giant beast. She didn't even seem scared, just confused, her eyes fixated on the tiger she had never seen before.

Keith's mind raced, desperation clawing at him. She was going to die. Just like her mother. He couldn't reach her in time. Or could he?

"SWAP PLACES!"

In an instant, the world shifted. Keith's body replaced hers, and the tiger's massive jaws came crashing down. He managed to angle his sword upward as its teeth closed around his left arm. The blade pierced the tiger's mouth, but its teeth sank deep into his flesh, the pain white-hot and blinding.

The beast flailed in agony, its blood spilling across the floor. Keith held on, his adrenaline overpowering the excruciating pain. With his right hand, he grabbed the spear embedded in the tiger's chest and drove it deeper into its gaping maw.

The tiger roared, its screams reverberating through the room. But Keith's own screams were louder, fueled by pain, fury, and determination. He thrust the spear again and again, each blow sinking deeper until the tiger's movements slowed.

Finally, with one last groan, the tiger collapsed, its body lifeless. Blood pooled around Keith as he yanked his mangled arm free from its jaws.

"Papa hurt!" The girl's voice broke through his haze. She was running toward him, her face filled with panic.

Keith clutched his bleeding arm, trying to steady himself. His voice thundered, louder than he intended. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING COMING HERE?"

The girl froze, tears welling up in her eyes. "Papa was not there…"

"If I'm not there, then I'm at work! DON'T FOLLOW ME!" His voice cracked, raw from the adrenaline and fear.

Her lips trembled, and she sniffled, her voice barely audible. "But… but I heard scary sound…"

Keith's anger dissolved as he saw her tears. The guilt hit him harder than the tiger's claws ever could. He knelt down, wincing as the pain in his arm flared. Gently, with his good arm, he pulled her into a hug.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice soft now. "I was scared…"

Scared for her. Scared for a child who wasn't his. Scared for someone who didn't owe him her trust.

She buried her face in his shoulder, her small hands gripping his shirt as she sobbed. She didn't seem to care that his blood was soaking through her clothes.

Keith held her tightly, his own fear giving way to a fragile sense of relief. She was safe. That was all that mattered. For now, they had survived.

After some time, Keith stood up, his body aching, and glanced around the room. His eyes fell on the altar where the tiger had rested before the battle began. It was intricately carved, weathered by time, and at its center sat a box—a treasure chest that seemed ancient.

He approached cautiously, his hand trembling slightly as he opened the box. The chest contained treasures: glittering gold, ornate jewelry, and gemstones that sparkled even in the dim light. But one item caught his attention immediately—a white cloak.

Keith picked it up, its fabric impossibly smooth and shimmering faintly. Recognition sparked in his mind. This was the cloak from the illustrations in the papers. The researchers had been looking for it, calling it an artifact that could grant invincibility.

"This could save me… a lot of times," he muttered to himself.

But then he paused, looking down at the girl. Without hesitation, he bent down and draped the cloak around her small frame.

The moment he fastened it, glowing words appeared faintly across its surface: Invincibility – 10 chances left.

He had been right. Keith smiled faintly, though his exhaustion showed. The girl blinked, her puffy eyes from crying earlier now wide with curiosity as she admired the beautiful white cloak.

"It's pretty," she said softly, running her fingers along the fabric.

Keith nodded.

He rummaged through the chest again but found nothing else of immediate use. Setting it aside, he pulled out some bandages and began wrapping his wounds. The makeshift bandages wouldn't stop the bleeding entirely, but they slowed it enough for him to keep moving.

Just as he was about to leave, his eyes fell on the tiger's corpse. His grip tightened around the spear. Something felt off. He stepped closer and plunged the spear deep into the tiger's side again.

The beast roared suddenly, a guttural sound of pain that echoed through the room before it collapsed completely. It had been barely alive, clinging to its final breaths. Now, it was truly dead.

Keith stood in silence, catching his breath. Then, an unexpected sound broke the quiet—a deep hum.

He turned sharply to see a glowing void forming behind the altar. It shimmered with a strange light, its surface swirling with shapes that resembled stars. The air around it was cold, and the sheer sight of it was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

"What's that?" the girl asked, clutching his hand tightly.

"I don't know," Keith admitted, his voice low. He approached cautiously, the spear still in hand, and extended it to touch the strange portal.

The moment the spear made contact, the void pulled it in with an irresistible force. Before Keith could react, the portal's pull grew stronger, dragging both him and the girl inside.

He gripped her tightly as they were swallowed into the unknown.

The world spiraled around them, a swirling chaos of light and shadow. Keith held her close, shielding her small frame as best as he could. The sensation was disorienting, like being caught in a whirlpool of stars.

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