Ape of the Wilds

The chamber was unnaturally silent, the only sound the soft rustling of dust as the armored figures moved forward, their forms shrouded in shadow.

Kuro stood at the front of the group, knuckles pressed against the stone, his body low, coiled, ready. His fur bristled at the eerie presence of the warriors emerging from the depths of the ruin.

They weren't alive, yet they moved with purpose. Their armor was ancient, blackened with time, its surface covered in engraved runes that pulsed faintly. The helms they wore had no slits for eyes, just empty voids where faces should have been.

And still—they watched him.

The tallest of the figures stepped forward. Its presence alone felt heavy, as if the air itself bowed under its weight. In its right hand, it gripped a long, curved blade, the edge slick with something dark, though it had yet to strike.

Kuro felt its gaze, even without eyes to see.

It knew him.

And it was waiting.

Kuro didn't hesitate.

He launched forward, knuckles scraping the stone, propelling himself toward the closest warrior. The moment he closed the distance, he swung his Duskrunner Claws in a diagonal arc, aiming for the gap between its breastplate and shoulder guard.

The impact was solid—but wrong.

His claws didn't sink into flesh, nor did they strike solid metal. It was like hitting something hollow, something that should have crumbled under force but didn't.

The warrior barely flinched.

Then it moved.

Faster than Kuro had expected, the armored guardian pivoted, its blade flashing in a smooth, fluid motion—a strike that aimed not to kill, but to break.

Kuro twisted, barely evading the razor-thin edge, but the shockwave of the swing grazed his fur, the force alone sending a sharp sting across his ribs.

-25 HP (Glancing Blow!)

Kuro: 145/170 HP

From the corner of his eye, Kota slipped through the shadows, moving like a whisper of wind. His daggers found the gap beneath a warrior's ribs, the metal slicing through the empty space between armor plates—

Only for the warrior to twist unnaturally, catching his wrist mid-strike.

Kota's eyes widened a fraction before the guardian hurled him backward, sending him crashing against a pillar with a sharp grunt.

Sia loosed an arrow, her fingers barely twitching before the projectile was airborne. The shaft struck true, embedding deep into the largest warrior's chest—

But the thing didn't stop moving.

The arrow shattered inside its armor, as if whatever remained inside had already forgotten the meaning of pain.

Varek let out a low curse, his spear spinning in his grip before he launched it with deadly precision. The weapon pierced through the side of a guardian's helmet, the impact strong enough to bend metal.

And yet—

The guardian simply reached up, gripped the spear by the shaft, and pulled it free with a slow, deliberate motion.

Then it turned its head toward him.

The message was clear.

Weapons wouldn't kill them.

Boru and Ruka, undeterred, charged as one. Steel and muscle meeting shadow and steel.

Boru's massive arms swung wide, his strength enough to send lesser men flying—but the guardian caught his punch with one hand, stopping his momentum cold.

Ruka, taking advantage of the moment, brought his spiked club down onto its exposed shoulder, the impact resonating through the chamber.

The guardian's stance shifted, but still, it didn't fall.

And then, as one, the others began to move.

The guardians pressed forward, their attacks fluid, synchronized—not like mindless husks, but like trained warriors who had fought together for centuries.

Kuro ducked under another sweeping strike, his hands pressing against the stone as he launched himself upward, gripping onto the twisting roots lining the ceiling. He swung himself above the battle, scanning the fight with quick, sharp glances.

They were losing.

Not in numbers—but in attrition.

The guardians weren't slowing down. Their movements weren't faltering.

They could fight forever if necessary.

And Kuro couldn't.

From above, he saw Kota move again, slipping into the blind spot of one warrior, using its own stance against it, stepping inside its guard and slashing upward—

Only for the blade to pass clean through empty space beneath its helmet.

The thing had no head.

Kota barely had time to pull back before the guardian's gauntleted fist struck him in the ribs, sending him skidding across the floor.

Kuro gritted his teeth.

This wasn't working.

Then, from the depths of the ruin, something shifted.

The temperature dropped.

The air became thicker. Heavier.

And at the far end of the chamber, a door began to open.

Kuro's eyes snapped to the opening door, the darkness beyond it somehow deeper than any shadow he had ever seen.

A way out.

But something waited beyond it.

And that meant a choice.

He dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch beside Kota, who was already rising to his feet, breath ragged but sharp.

"They don't stop," Kota muttered, wiping blood from his lip. "They're not alive. We can't kill them."

Kuro glanced at the others. Sia was still firing, but her arrows weren't doing enough. Varek's spears were only slowing them down. Boru and Ruka were locked in a battle of raw strength that had no end.

They couldn't win this.

Not here.

Kuro turned toward the newly revealed passage, his muscles tensing.

"The door," he called. "Move."

No hesitation.

Kota took off first, slipping between two guardians, his form melting into the shadows as he dashed toward the exit.

Sia followed next, her movements quick, calculated, her final arrow loosed mid-run, not to kill, but to force a guardian to hesitate just long enough for her to slip past.

Varek threw one last spear, aiming not for damage, but to pierce through the gap between two warriors, forcing them to shift their stances, blocking the others behind them.

Boru and Ruka fell back last, their massive frames keeping the guardians occupied for a few extra seconds before they finally turned and ran.

Kuro was the last to move.

He waited until the moment the guardians advanced, their weapons raised—

Then he twisted his body, grabbing onto a nearby pillar, using his momentum to swing himself sideways, bypassing the warriors entirely.

The instant his feet hit the ground, he sprinted for the door.

And as soon as the last of them crossed—

The chamber sealed behind them.

They stood in complete darkness, the only light coming from the faint blue glow of symbols along the walls.

The passage stretched ahead, deep into the unknown.

And at the far end—something waited.

They had escaped the guardians.

But they had stepped exactly where the ruin wanted them to be.

Kuro exhaled, his fists clenching.

No turning back now.

They had to see this through.

The door sealed behind them, shutting with a deep, resounding finality. The silence that followed was thick, like the jungle itself had ceased to breathe.

Kuro stood at the head of the group, his knuckles resting lightly on the stone floor, body low, poised, ready. The space they had entered was narrower than the chamber before, the walls closer, pressing inward.

The glow of faint blue symbols flickered along the rough stone, stretching down the corridor, guiding them forward like dying stars in an endless night.

But the deeper they stared into the tunnel, the more the light twisted.

Not physically—but something about it felt unnatural, like it was shifting when they weren't looking directly at it.

Kuro exhaled slowly, his ears twitching as he listened to the space around them.

No movement.

No sound.

But something was watching.

Kota adjusted his stance, his daggers resting lightly in his hands, though the tension in his grip was slight—controlled, measured. He was always the first to notice when something wasn't right, and now was no exception.

"That door closing wasn't a trap," Kota muttered, his golden eyes flicking to Kuro. "It was a test. And we passed."

Ruka ran a hand along the wall, frowning as his thick fingers traced the carvings. "If this is a test, I'd like to know what we're being tested for."

Sia, who had been watching the blue symbols carefully, adjusted her hold on her bow. "Survival. We weren't supposed to make it this far. The ruins are reacting to us."

Kuro said nothing, but he agreed.

The guardians hadn't been there to kill them—at least, not directly. They had been there to separate the unworthy from the ones meant to step deeper.

Which meant—this place wanted them here.

The thought made his fur bristle.

They moved carefully through the corridor, their footsteps soft against the ancient stone. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, not in a natural way, but as if the warmth was being pulled from their bodies, drained away.

Kuro felt it first, the tingling sensation in his muscles, the slow numbness creeping into his fingers. It wasn't enough to hinder him—yet—but it was noticeable.

A test of endurance.

Kota shifted his daggers, the movement slight, but telling. He had noticed it too.

Varek exhaled slowly. "Magic." The single word left his mouth like an observation rather than a concern.

Boru rolled his shoulders. "If it's trying to slow us down, it's doing a piss-poor job of it."

No one responded, but they all felt it.

It wasn't just the cold.

It was something deeper, something pressing into them, weighing them down.

Kuro could feel it in his bones, in his breath, in the way his limbs seemed just a fraction slower, as if the ruin itself was pulling them into its grasp.

Not enough to stop them.

Just enough to remind them that they weren't welcome here.

The corridor finally widened, opening into a larger space, though the shape was wrong. It wasn't a room in the traditional sense—it was a hallway of shifting reflections, as if the walls had been built from polished blackstone, reflecting warped, distorted versions of themselves.

Kuro took one step forward, watching as his own reflection flickered, the image trailing behind his real movement, just a second too slow.

Sia frowned. "I don't like this."

Varek studied his own reflection, his fingers twitching slightly as he shifted his stance. "It's delayed. Not just a mirror, but… something else."

Kota exhaled sharply. "I hate magic."

Kuro wasn't focused on the reflections. He was focused on the way the air changed as they moved. The sensation was subtle, but undeniable—like stepping into thicker air, a space that resisted movement in ways that it shouldn't.

A test of perception.

The moment he thought it, the reflections moved—without them.

It was subtle at first.

A flicker.

A hesitation in their mirrored selves.

Then, in unison—the reflections turned to look directly at them.

Not at their real counterparts.

At them.

Kuro's breath steadied, his body shifting slightly, lowering his stance. He was ready for anything, but this… this was unnatural.

The reflection of himself tilted its head. The eyes were wrong, just a shade too bright, the shadows beneath them deeper than they should be.

Then—it grinned.

Not a smirk.

Not an expression he had ever made.

A slow, creeping grin that split too wide, baring too many teeth.

The grin of something that had been waiting for him.

Kota's voice was sharp, controlled. "Kuro—"

The reflection moved before he did.

It lunged from the mirror, a blur of twisted movement, its claws flashing toward Kuro's throat.

Kuro reacted instantly, his own Duskrunner Claws flashing upward, intercepting the attack. The impact was jarring, not because of force—but because it felt like striking nothing at all.

No resistance.

No weight.

And yet—it was real.

He twisted, slamming his knee into its ribs, but it barely faltered, its body shifting, flowing like liquid shadow, reforming instantly.

Kota's own reflection moved next, lunging at him with impossible speed, its daggers aimed at his ribs. Kota twisted, barely avoiding the first slash, but the second nicked his shoulder, cutting through cloth but missing flesh.

-15 HP (Glancing Cut!)

Sia fired an arrow straight at her own reflection's skull—but the copy caught it mid-air, twisting the projectile before hurling it back at her.

She ducked, barely avoiding her own attack.

Boru, never one for patience, swung a massive fist toward his double, the air cracking with force. The shadow copy caught the punch with both hands, but instead of blocking it—

It absorbed the impact, its form bending like mist, before reforming behind him, whispering something that made Boru freeze for half a second too long.

Kuro didn't have time to process it.

He was already moving, adapting, his instincts screaming that this wasn't a battle of strength.

This was a battle of self.

A test of identity.

They weren't meant to win.

They were meant to lose themselves.

And Kuro wasn't going to let that happen.

His claws flexed, his breath steady.

They needed to end this fast.

Breaking the Illusion

He saw it, then.

A flicker in the corner of the mirrored chamber, just for a moment—a crack in the reflection, a place where the illusion wavered.

The center of the magic.

The source.

Kuro dashed forward, ignoring his own copy, his feet moving before thought, his knuckles pressing against the smooth floor as he launched himself toward the crack in the mirror.

The reflection of himself screamed in rage, lunging to intercept—

But it was too late.

Kuro struck the weak point with all his force.

The moment his claws tore through the illusion, the chamber shattered like glass.

And the reflections vanished.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sia exhaled sharply. Varek adjusted his grip on his spear. Boru rolled his shoulders, as if trying to shake off the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

Kota looked at Kuro. "How did you know?"

Kuro exhaled.

"I didn't."

Then, from the end of the now-normal hall, a new door creaked open.

Inviting them deeper.