Ape of the Wilds

The mirrored chamber had shattered, but the feeling it left behind lingered like a sickness. Kuro could still hear the echo of his own distorted voice, still feel the way his reflection had grinned, how it had moved just half a second too late—as if the illusion had struggled to mimic him in real-time.

He flexed his Duskrunner Claws, rolling his shoulders, shaking the feeling off. It was gone now.

But the ruin wasn't finished with them.

The door at the end of the corridor groaned open, revealing a path that led even deeper, disappearing into blackness that seemed thicker than shadow.

None of them spoke.

There was nothing to say.

They moved forward, because there was nowhere else to go.

The tunnel twisted downward, the air growing denser with each step, pressing against their lungs. Kuro moved in a way that felt instinctive, his hands and feet both touching the ground, his ape-like body moving in a way that felt natural in this space—like this was the way these corridors were meant to be traveled.

Kota followed closely, his steps silent, but his daggers drawn. The tension in his frame never left him. He wasn't the type to relax until he was sure nothing else was going to try and kill them.

Sia walked with her bow half-drawn, the arrow resting lightly on the string. She had fired too many shots tonight at things that should have died, but didn't.

Boru and Ruka took up the rear, their footfalls heavy, their bodies tense but ready.

Varek was quiet, his grip on his spear tight, his eyes flicking toward Kuro every now and then. Not with fear, but with understanding. He had seen something in that mirrored room, something Kuro didn't fully understand yet.

The path continued to spiral down, deeper, until the air grew stale, ancient, filled with a scent that was not just decay—but something older than decay.

Then the passage opened.

They stepped into a vast chamber, its walls lined with faded carvings, older than the ones before. The symbols were less structured, more primal, like they had been carved with desperate hands rather than tools.

And at the far end—

A gate of black stone stood, untouched by time.

It was wrong, not because of its size or shape, but because of the way it did not belong.

The ruins around it were cracked, eroded, faded by the weight of centuries.

But the gate?

It was flawless.

No dust. No cracks. As if it had just been built yesterday.

Kuro felt it before he understood it.

This gate wasn't part of the ruins.

It had been placed here after.

And it had been waiting.

Kota exhaled, sheathing one dagger, then running his fingers along the surface of the gate.

"No hinges. No handles." His voice was calm, but laced with something else. Not fear. Not yet. But close.

"It's not supposed to open," Sia said, stepping beside him, her fingers brushing one of the symbols lightly.

It was cold. Too cold.

Kuro crouched, placing one hand on the ground, pressing his weight against the stone. Feeling. Listening.

There was nothing behind the door.

Nothing he could hear.

But he could feel it.

Something was waiting.

Varek tapped the butt of his spear against the ground. "Then why does it feel like we're supposed to open it?"

Kuro's fingers curled into a fist.

"Because someone wants us to."

Boru grunted, arms crossed. "So we don't open it."

Kuro almost agreed. Almost.

But something about that thought felt wrong.

If this place didn't want them here, it would have killed them already.

Instead, it had been guiding them deeper.

Through the mirrored room, through the cold, through the guardians.

They weren't prisoners.

They were meant to be here.

And the only way forward was through that door.

"Look around," Kuro said. "There's something we're missing. A key. A mechanism. Find it."

They spread out, moving carefully through the chamber, scanning the walls, the carvings, the floors.

Sia was the first to notice.

"The carvings," she muttered. "They're not just stories."

Kuro moved beside her, following her gaze. The symbols closest to the gate were different—not warnings, not records, but something else.

A ritual.

A method of entry.

Kota knelt beside a circular pattern on the ground, brushing away the thin layer of dust that had gathered there.

"A seal," he murmured. "We're supposed to stand here."

Kuro's jaw tightened.

"Or something is supposed to stand here."

The room waited.

The gate did not speak, did not glow, did not react.

But it was watching.

Kuro stepped toward the seal, feeling the weight of the choice settling on his shoulders.

This wasn't just a door.

This was a threshold.

Once they crossed it, there would be no turning back.

He glanced at the others, measuring their expressions.

Sia's fingers were tight around her bow, but her eyes were steady. She was ready.

Kota's stance was loose, relaxed, but the tension in his arms betrayed his anticipation.

Varek simply nodded once.

Boru cracked his knuckles. "If something jumps out at us when this thing opens, I get first swing."

Ruka sighed. "Fine. Just don't break it before we see what's inside."

Kuro stepped onto the seal.

And the gate began to move.

The symbols on the walls flickered, their blue light pulsing once, then twice, before fading entirely.

The chamber shook as the black stone groaned, splitting vertically down the center, its two halves peeling away like the mouth of a great beast, revealing the darkness beyond.

The air changed instantly.

The cold was gone.

Replaced by something else.

Something old.

Something alive.

For the first time, Kuro hesitated.

For the first time, he wondered if this was a mistake.

Then he took the first step forward.

And the ruin swallowed them whole.

The black gate had opened, but what lay beyond was not darkness.

Not in the way Kuro had expected.

Darkness was supposed to be empty, a lack of light, a void that swallowed all things.

But this?

This was something alive.

The air beyond the threshold was thick, not with mist, but with something older than dust, heavier than time. The space ahead wasn't just a passage—it was a place that had been sealed for a reason.

And now, it was awake again.

Kuro felt the shift the moment he stepped forward. His fur bristled, his knuckles grazing the cold stone beneath him, his body moving low, instinctively prepared to react.

The jungle was dangerous. He had lived with that truth his whole life. But this ruin, this place…

This wasn't natural danger.

This was something that had been deliberately buried.

And now he had to unearth it.

The others followed, silent, cautious.

Kota was the second to step through, his movements fluid, his daggers gripped loosely in both hands—ready, but not rigid. His golden eyes flicked to Kuro once, then to the space ahead, scanning it like a predator watching unfamiliar territory.

Sia moved next, her bow still drawn, an arrow already notched—a hunter preparing for the worst. She barely made a sound as she stepped into the sealed chamber, her breathing slow, controlled.

Varek followed, his grip firm on his spear, his body tense but composed. Boru and Ruka came last, their footfalls heavier, the natural weight of warriors built for close combat.

The moment they were all inside, the gate behind them rumbled closed.

The sound was final.

Kuro's claws flexed slightly.

There was no going back.

The chamber was vast.

Unlike the previous ruins, this one was untouched by time. The carvings along the walls weren't worn, the symbols weren't faded with age. The air smelled sharp, fresh, unbroken by decay.

And at the center—

A massive monolith stood, its surface carved with intricate patterns, pulsating with a dim, golden glow. Unlike the cold, unnatural blue of the previous symbols, this light was different.

It felt alive.

But it wasn't the monolith itself that held Kuro's attention.

It was the thing standing in front of it.

A figure, taller than any Maw'Tanu or Tzalik, clad in tattered robes, its head covered by a cracked, elongated mask, its hands clasped over the hilt of a massive, ritualistic blade, its posture statuesque, unmoving.

It had been waiting.

For them.

A moment of silence passed.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the figure lifted its head.

A deep, echoing voice filled the chamber, but it did not come from the figure's mouth.

It came from the walls themselves.

"You walk where you should not."

The voice was layered, distorted, as if many voices were speaking at once, overlapping, whispering beneath the words.

"You stand before the gate of the forgotten. The door that was meant to remain closed."

Kuro's jaw tightened. His stance didn't change, but his fingers tensed slightly, his muscles coiling in preparation.

"What is this place?" he asked, his voice steady.

The figure did not move.

"A tomb. A prison. A warning."

"And yet, you have come."

"Why?"

The words didn't feel like a challenge.

They felt like a test.

Kuro glanced at the others, then stepped forward.

"We came because the jungle is changing," he said. "Because something was buried here. And now it's waking up."

A pause.

Then, the figure's head tilted slightly.

"You are correct."

"And now you must decide what comes next."

The monolith behind the figure pulsed brighter for a moment, and with it, the air changed again.

The heavy stillness shifted into something else.

Expectation.

Choice.

Kuro's muscles tightened.

This was the moment.

Whatever came next—it wouldn't be easy.

The figure finally moved, stepping forward with slow, deliberate weight. The ritual blade scraped against the stone as it was lifted, the motion elegant, ancient, practiced.

"You seek to understand what was lost. To reclaim what should have remained forgotten."

"Then prove you are worthy of the knowledge."

The golden glow of the monolith flared, and for the first time, Kuro felt the weight of the ruin's will pressing down on him.

This wasn't just a battle.

This was a trial.

The figure raised its blade, and Kuro moved to meet it.

The others did not step forward.

They could not.

This fight was his alone.

The blade descended fast, faster than Kuro expected, cutting through the air with a low, resonant hum.

Kuro dodged right, his knuckles grazing the stone as he rolled, his tail flicking out to maintain balance.

The blade shattered the ground where he had stood, sending cracks spiraling outward.

No hesitation.

Kuro launched himself forward, his Duskrunner Claws flashing, swiping toward the figure's midsection—

But the guardian twisted effortlessly, its movements impossibly fluid, its blade already swinging in a counter-strike before Kuro had even finished his attack.

Kuro barely managed to block with his forearm, the impact sending a shockwave through his bones.

-30 HP (Blocked Heavy Strike!)

Kuro: 115/170 HP

It was fast.

But so was he.

Using the force of the impact, Kuro pushed off the ground, flipping backward, landing in a low crouch. His breath was steady, his mind clear.

The guardian watched him, its mask expressionless, but its stance adjusted.

It had learned.

This fight wasn't just about strength.

It was about adaptation.

Kuro exhaled sharply, flexing his claws.

"Alright, then," he muttered.

"Let's see who learns faster."

The guardian moved again, its blade a blur of motion, cutting through the air in precise, controlled strikes.

Kuro didn't dodge this time.

He closed the distance instead, stepping inside the guardian's reach, his hands latching onto the arm holding the blade.

For the first time, the figure hesitated.

Kuro twisted sharply, using his own weight to pull the guardian off balance, forcing it to stumble for just a moment.

Just enough time.

Kuro's knee snapped upward, slamming into the guardian's chest with crushing force.

The impact rang through the chamber, sending the guardian skidding backward, its boots scraping against the stone.

+40 XP (Staggered the Guardian!)

Kuro: 460/600 XP Needed to Level Up

The figure regained its stance, lifting its blade once more.

It wasn't finished.

But neither was Kuro.

And as the guardian stepped forward for the next exchange, Kuro grinned, baring his fangs.

This was the fight he had been waiting for.