"Fuck."
I barely even stepped through the black door before it hit me.
Weightlessness. Like that first moment on a rollercoaster—but worse. I was falling.
Hard.
Fast.
I didn't even get a second to brace myself before gravity grabbed me by the gut and flung me straight into the floor. A clean five-meter drop. Landed wrong. Obviously.
I hit the stone like a sack of meat. I should have activated hardening midair. Too late now. I groaned and blinked the ground back into focus. Everything ached. I tasted iron in my mouth.
Breathed in. Sat up. Somehow not broken.
Shook my head. Shook it again. Started taking in my surroundings.
Tunnel. Underground. Artificial.
Stone walls. Damp. Big blue bricks stacked neatly like some overzealous mason had a lot of time and not enough friends. Moss creeping out of the seams, glowing faintly like it's been bathing in bioluminescence. Blueish fuzz. Looked wet. Felt wet.
Candles on both sides. Real flames. Flickering weakly but not moving. No air currents here. So... still.
That's when I saw it—blood.
Umar's trail, thick and red and recent, smeared along the floor. Leading deeper in. He was ahead of me. Of course, he was.
I didn't hesitate. Just followed. Activated my hardening ability underneath my shirt like a coward wearing chainmail to a knife fight. Not that I blamed myself.
No ambush. Yet.
I crept forward. Thirty meters. Maybe forty? My steps echoed, no matter how quiet I tried to be. Tunnel opened into a... space.
A cavern?
Grotto. Yeah. That was the word.
Strange jagged rocks hung from the ceiling like fossilized lightning bolts. The whole space was circular—maybe five times the size of my apartment. Same blue bricks on the ground. Same vibe. Cold. Still. Damp.
Three candles on a single stand lit the area. Not cozy warm. More like interrogation room warm.
Then I saw the altar.
Right in the center. Stone. Heavy. Covered in symbols that looked ancient and aggressive. Like whoever carved them hated the stone.
The surrounding statues? Snakes. Dozens of them. All twisted around like they were mid-strike. Gave me the creeps.
And Umar was standing smack in the middle. Right at home.
I swear he sneered at me. Or... maybe his face just looks like that. Hard to tell. Too stiff to be readable.
On the altar stood a weird black vase—like some sort of ceremonial incense holder you'd see in a cursed antique shop. Old and flawless. Glossy. Black as pitch.
That vase—it screamed danger.
I hated that I noticed.
Uriel's voice was almost laughable. His words hissed out like his teeth had been kicked in. "Feron Mornez... you came. Brave. Very brave. But... foolish. This is your end."
I blinked.
Was that a threat? Or a bad script read?
His whole vibe was textbook villain. I almost laughed—his tone was so try-hard dramatic it circled back around to embarrassing.
Still. I didn't let down my guard.
That vase still had me on edge.
"You shall witness Her power," Umar crooned, eyes gleaming with fever-dream fanaticism. "The Mother Goddess will consume you—body and soul! You should feel honored!"
Okay. So we're going full cultist now. Great.
Gone was the aloof Umar I followed down here. What stood in front of me now was a bonafide lunatic with a god complex and bleeding palms.
I regretted following him.
I didn't move. Watched. Waited.
Then he shouted, "Hahaha! Come! Come, Gift of the Mother!"
His left hand—still leaking blood—uncorked the black vase.
The hiss was instant.
Black mist shot out, thick and fast. Like steam from a dying train. It spilled across the altar. Heavy. Unnatural.
From within the fog, something moved.
A shape. A form. A line. It slithered down the altar like it belonged there.
My blood froze.
A snake.
Thin. Maybe as thick as two fingers. One and a half meters long. Pitch black. The scales looked soft and tight, almost like velvet. The triangular head left no room for doubt.
Poisonous.
Of course.
I shouldn't be surprised. But I was.
Still... it wasn't big. It didn't even look particularly scary.
But this... this was no ordinary snake. I felt it. In my skin. In my ribs.
This was a "Enigma."
Umar called it "a gift."
The "Mother of Snake and Mercury." Lovely.
Only certain mysteries belonged to gods. Rare ones. Weird ones. Deadly ones.
But.
No contract. No ritual. No potion. This thing wasn't bound. It had no host.
How strong could it really be?
Snake-type mysteries were usually about speed... and venom. My hardening ability happened to counter both. Lucky break?
I tried to convince myself.
Umar was practically drooling now. Whispering like he was praying to a lover.
"Oh Black Mamba... Servant of the Great Mother... grant me strength..."
Wait. Black Mamba?
Seriously?
I almost laughed out loud.
Was the snake gonna dunk on me next?
The Black Mamba lifted its head slowly, eyes—tiny black pits—fixating on Umar. Tongue flicked. Tasted the air.
Nothing happened.
Umar looked confused. Then frantic. Dropped to his knees. Begged harder.
Big mistake.
Faster than I could blink, the snake moved.
A blur. A gust. A flicker of motion too fast for the eye to follow.
It struck.
Then retreated.
My jaw dropped.
Had it—had it just—?
I stared.
Umar hadn't even flinched. Still kneeling.
Then... I saw them. Two pinprick holes in his neck.
Oh god.
Three seconds later, he noticed.
His eyes bulged. His hands shot up. The veins around the punctures turned black. Spread like cracks in glass. Across his skin. Webbing out.
He gurgled. Tried to scream. Couldn't.
His body twisted. Twitched.
Collapsed.
Dead.
Dead.
"What the hell...?" I whispered. Loudly.
I stood there. Frozen. Shocked.
He summoned the damn snake and got himself killed?
That can't be right.
Umar wasn't that stupid.
But I had no time to think. Because the snake—the Black Mamba—turned to me.
Its beady little eyes locked onto me.
I flinched. Panic rising.
I threw every ounce of black mist around my body. Covered my skin. My face. Even the parts I usually forgot about—like my wrists.
Activated hardening.
I braced.
But then... something strange happened.
The snake... didn't move.
In fact, it relaxed.
Slithered away.
What?
Wait—
Snakes don't see well, do they?
They smell heat.
Tongue-based thermal detection. That's what they use. To track.
So... the mist—my mist—was masking my heat signature?
I stared at it, wide-eyed.
Could that be it?
It had to be.
God. That changed everything.
I crouched. Watched it. Waited. It circled the room like it was lost. Like a blind thing searching for prey in the dark.
My heart slowed. Just slightly.
Opportunity?
I crept forward. Quiet as possible.
Shoe soles barely kissed the ground.
The Mamba twitched. Turned its head. Listened.
Paused.
Then... nothing.
It went back to its useless slithering.
I kept moving. Careful. So careful.
When I got close enough—just above it—I reached for its head.
That was the plan. Pin the weapon. Kill the threat.
Timing.
I struck.
But the wind from my hand must've tipped it off—
It darted.
I missed.
Caught part of its neck—just below the head. Not enough!
"Shit—got it wrong!"
Then—then it moved again.
Faster than before.
Black blur—
Coming right for me.