The moment Thorne stepped through the ancient stone door, an overwhelming chill ran down his spine. The dim torchlight barely reached past a few meters, swallowed by the dense darkness of the cavern ahead. The air was thick—not just with dust, but with something unseen, something waiting.
He took another cautious step forward, his newly awakened Eye of Perception scanning the chamber. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—just a narrow stone path suspended over a seemingly endless abyss. But then, his vision flickered, revealing faint, almost invisible lines crisscrossing the bridge.
"Traps." His voice was barely a whisper, but his pulse pounded in his ears.
The bridge looked solid, but with his ability, he could see it for what it really was—a death trap. Certain stones shimmered under his sight, their edges razor-sharp, likely ready to collapse at the slightest pressure. Other sections were laced with a strange, pulsing energy, almost like pressure-triggered mechanisms.
He had no doubt—one wrong step would send him plummeting into the abyss or worse, activate something even deadlier.
The system spoke.
[Trial Activated: Cross the Deathwalk Bridge.]
Thorne exhaled sharply. "Of course, it couldn't be easy."
He tested the first step, pressing lightly against the stone. Stable. He moved cautiously, eyes darting between the glowing lines marking danger zones. Step by step, he avoided the treacherous stones, weaving between safe spots with precision.
Halfway across, the bridge trembled.
His body tensed as the sound of grinding stone echoed from the cavern walls. His Eye of Perception flared to life, detecting movement above.
A foreboding chill ran down his spine. Danger was imminent.
Before he could react, a whistling sound cut through the air. He twisted his body just in time—an ancient rusted spear slammed into the stone where he had just stood, cracking the bridge.
His eyes snapped upward. Shadows flickered along the cavern's ceiling. Skeletal archers, clinging to the jagged walls with claw-like fingers, nocked another volley of arrows. Their hollow sockets flared with ghostly blue light as they released in unison.
A rain of death.
Thorne dove forward, narrowly dodging the barrage. A sharp sting grazed his arm as one arrow nicked his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he rolled to a crouch, his eyes scanning for the next move.
The skeletal warriors on the far end of the bridge were already charging toward him, their rusted weapons raised. Trapped between a collapsing bridge, archers above, and warriors ahead.
His grip tightened around his blade. He had no choice. He had to fight.