Fallen From The Heavens

The abyss had tested their spirits and bodies beyond reckoning. The mastery of the Second Key—the watery depths of illusion, resilience, and regeneration—was hard-won, but it was only a precursor. The path ahead was darker still.

Kazin's voice was grave as they emerged from the Abyss of Reflection.

"The Third Key of Nature is a passage through shadow and death. It demands strength forged in pain, minds sharpened by fear, and wills hardened beyond despair."

Oni and Rain exchanged glances, their marks pulsing faintly—a reminder of the powers they'd claimed and the greater battles yet to come.

"This key is bound to the realm of Shafu," Kazin continued. "A place where the veil between life and death thins, and monstrous beings claim dominion over the shadows."

The Guardians of Shafu

Kazin's hand traced ancient runes in the air, revealing spectral images of the beasts Oni and Rain would face.

The Werewolves — Stalking the darkest corners of Shafu, these feral creatures blend savage strength with predatory cunning. Their howls echo in endless night, and their claws rend flesh like paper. They are the first trial—a test of survival in the shadows.

The Minotaur — The gatekeeper of the Underworld's threshold, a towering beast of muscle and rage. It stands as the brutal wall Oni and Rain must break through to claim passage deeper into Shafu. Strength alone will not suffice; cunning and endurance will be tested.

Cerberus — The Underworld King, a monstrous three-headed hound that guards the gates of death itself. Its jaws crush souls and its presence twists reality. Oni and Rain must overcome this final guardian to claim the Third Key's power.

The Nature of the Third Key

Kazin's eyes darkened.

"This key is about embracing darkness without losing yourself. It is about control—over rage, fear, and the primal instincts that lurk beneath."

The Third Key's magic would focus on the balance between bestial fury and disciplined strength. Oni and Rain would learn to harness ferocity without surrendering their minds.

They would train to channel the wolf's savage instincts, the bull's unyielding endurance, and the Cerberus's lethal precision and overwhelming power.

The air grew cold and heavy, thick with the scent of earth and decay as Kazin led them toward the Shafu Realm. Shadows lengthened and deepened with every step.

Oni and Rain braced themselves for the horrors and lessons that awaited.

The Third Key of Nature was not just a test—it was a crucible.

"To survive the Werewolves, you must tame the beast in your marrow.To defeat the Minotaur, you must become the labyrinth itself.To face Cerberus… you must die once in spirit and rise reborn in wrath." -Kazin

The world changed when they stepped through the veil.

One moment, Oni and Rain stood on the moss-choked stones of the Abyss's exit, the damp air of the Second Key still clinging to their skin. The next, Kazin drew a single rune in the air—a curl of darkness that swallowed the light—and the world bled into black.

Cold air knifed into their lungs. The scent of damp soil and rot replaced the salt and mist of the watery realm they had left behind. Shadows stretched longer than they should, and even the sound of their own breathing seemed swallowed by the oppressive silence.

"This is Shafu," Kazin said, his voice steady and grim. "The realm between life and death. Few mortals walk here and return unchanged."

The landscape ahead was a twisted forest of blackened trees, their skeletal branches clawing at a starless sky. Wisps of mist curled around gnarled roots, and in the distance, the faint howl of a wolf broke the silence. It was long and mournful… and close enough to make the hair on Oni's neck rise.

Rain's hand instinctively touched the mark on his forearm, the sigil of the Second Key faintly pulsing. "It feels like the shadows are… watching us."

"They are," Kazin replied simply, beginning his slow walk forward. "Shafu has no patience for the weak. You will either earn its respect… or be consumed by it."

[The First Lesson: Fear Is the Gateway]

That first night, they did not rest. Kazin forbade it.

He led them deep into the skeletal woods, where roots jutted like broken bones and the ground seemed to squelch with unseen decay. The deeper they went, the more they felt it: a weight, pressing on their minds, a darkness that wasn't simply the absence of light but something alive, reaching with cold tendrils.

When they reached a small clearing surrounded by stones that glimmered faintly with runes, Kazin stopped.

"This will be your sanctuary for the first month," he said, pointing to the perimeter. "Step beyond the stones at night, and Shafu will devour you. The werewolves smell fear, and in this realm, fear is a beacon brighter than fire."

He turned to them, his cloak rippling in the cold wind. "Your first trial is simple: survive the wolves for thirty nights. You will learn the instincts of the hunter and the hunted—or you will die."

As if on cue, a distant chorus of howls erupted, layered and guttural. The boys' hearts quickened. Oni clenched his fists, jaw tight, while Rain swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the treeline.

"They're already here," Kazin said with a faint, humorless smile. "And they already know your names."

Night Hunts and Hollow Eyes

The first week was a blur of exhaustion.

Sleep came in shivers and fragments, and every whisper of wind felt like a predator's breath on their necks. The wolves rarely attacked in the open; instead, they circled the clearing, their glowing yellow eyes flickering in and out of the darkness.

Kazin's training was merciless.

"Close your eyes," he commanded one night, as howls rose in the distance.

"Are you insane?" Oni hissed, keeping his gaze on the shadows.

"If you cannot feel the wolf without your eyes, you are already dead," Kazin said, his voice a whip crack. "The beast does not see the way you see. It listens to your breath, smells the tremor in your blood. To master the Third Key, you must become the beast without losing the man."

So they knelt in the dirt, hearts hammering, and closed their eyes.

At first, it was only fear—sharp, icy, prickling at the edges of their thoughts. But gradually, other senses crept in: the rustle of leaves as paws brushed past, the faint snap of a twig behind them, the musk of wet fur carried on the wind.

And then—movement. Fast.

Oni's eyes snapped open as a shadow lunged from the treeline. Instinctively, he rolled to the side, feeling the rush of air as the wolf's spectral claws scraped the ground where he had been.

"Good," Kazin said, utterly calm as the phantom wolf evaporated into smoke. "But if it were real, you'd have lost an arm."

[The Primal Awakening]

By the end of the second week, their senses had sharpened.

Rain could hear the difference between wind brushing branches and the soft pad of paws stalking in darkness. Oni learned to smell the iron tang of blood before an ambush, to taste adrenaline in his own mouth like a warning.

Kazin's exercises became harsher. He released shadow wolves—illusions laced with Shafu's dark magic that could still wound. He forced the boys to split up, each hunted alone for hours.

It was during one of these solitary hunts that Oni felt it for the first time.

A presence in his chest.

A low, thrumming heat, pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

The beast within.

He crouched low as a wolf lunged, and instead of fear, a savage grin split his face. He met it head-on, tackling the shadow to the dirt, fists swinging with raw, instinctual fury. The phantom dissolved, leaving him panting, but exhilarated.

Rain's awakening was quieter. His came on the edge of panic, cornered between two stalking wolves. He felt his mind steady—not through rage, but through focus. He sidestepped the first lunge, ducked under the second, and slipped into the treeline like smoke, moving with a predator's patience.

By the third week, Kazin finally nodded with a glimmer of approval.

"You are starting to hear it," he said as they stood in the moonless night. "The rhythm of the hunt. The wolves no longer see only prey when they look at you."

[Breaking the Human Shell]

Survival was only the first step. The fourth week pushed them into feral combat training.

Kazin stripped them of weapons and forced them to spar using only their bodies. At first, it was clumsy—Oni's raw strength and Rain's agility clashing like mismatched gears. But Kazin's drills were relentless: wrestle, bite, grapple, break free.

"Humans rely too much on tools," Kazin lectured as he threw Oni into the dirt with a single shoulder sweep. "The beast survives with tooth and claw, because that is all the world gives it. You will learn to survive the same way."

They crawled through mud, leapt between jagged rocks, and learned to strike with elbows, knees, and teeth when necessary. Kazin had them fight each other for hours, then sprint into the woods to stalk phantom prey.

By the end of the month, their bodies were bruised, cut, and hardened. Their senses were alive in a way they'd never experienced.

On the thirtieth night, the wolves came in force.

A pack of six shadows breached the perimeter stones, eyes glowing like embers. Oni and Rain stood side by side, shirtless and smeared with dirt, their breaths steady.

The first wolf lunged—Oni caught it midair, twisting and slamming it into the dirt with a roar that wasn't entirely human. Rain spun low, sweeping a second wolf's legs before leaping onto its back, driving an elbow into the phantom skull.

They moved like predators, not prey.

By the time the last shadow dissolved into mist, the clearing was silent again, save for their breathing. Kazin stepped forward, the faintest smile on his scarred face.

"You have survived the first month," he said, voice low. "You have tasted the wolf, and it has not devoured you. Remember this night… for the trials only grow darker from here."

The Crucible of Shafu

{Month 2 – Blood and Bone}

The first month had stripped away the last remnants of comfort.

The second month would strip away the rest of their humanity.

Kazin began the morning of the thirty-first day with a simple command: "Follow."

There was no explanation, no pause for food or rest. Oni and Rain—aching, mud-streaked, and still raw from the final night's wolf assault—rose and obeyed.

The sun did not shine in Shafu. Time here was measured in the rise and fall of the mist and the cycles of the wolves' howls, but Kazin knew when each month ended as if the realm whispered it to him.

They followed him through the black forest until the trees gave way to a broken canyon, its jagged walls streaked with shadow. The ground was uneven, cracked, and slick with moss. It smelled of wet stone and iron—like an old battlefield.

Kazin turned to face them.

"The wolf awakens your instincts. But instinct without strength is a cub's snarl before the hunter's spear. This month, we forge your bodies until they are weapons in themselves."

Oni's fists clenched unconsciously, his sore knuckles brushing the bruises along his ribs. "Stronger than we already are?"

Kazin's lips curled slightly, a ghost of amusement. "Stronger than you believe you can be. Blood and bone will become your teacher now."

[The Burden of Stone]

The first exercise was deceptively simple.

Kazin led them to a clearing littered with monolithic black stones, some taller than they were, others barely larger than a man's head. He gestured to the heaviest.

"Lift it."

Rain's jaw tightened. He crouched, fingers slipping on the wet surface, and heaved. The stone barely wobbled. Oni grunted and tried as well, his stronger frame giving him a few inches of movement before the stone slammed back into the dirt with a thud that vibrated through his arms.

"You will carry these stones through Shafu's forests," Kazin said. "They will break you, bleed you, and bury your pride. But by the end, your bones will be as iron, and your muscles as cords of steel."

So began the burden runs.

Day after day, Oni and Rain lifted stones, carried them on shoulders, pushed them up slopes of moss and mud. When their legs trembled and their spines screamed, Kazin added more tasks: climb cliffs with the stones strapped to their backs, crawl through shallow, freezing swamps with stones dragging them down.

Every fall drew blood. Every failure earned only one response:

"Again."

Kazin never raised his voice. He didn't need to. The weight of Shafu itself seemed to demand obedience.

[Feral Combat]

When the stones were set down, training didn't end.

By the second week, Kazin began the feral combat trials. Shadow wolves returned—but this time, Kazin gave them physical form through his runes. They bled, bit, and broke bones if the boys faltered.

"You will not defeat the Minotaur with swords or spells alone," Kazin said, standing atop a ridge as Oni and Rain circled three snarling wolf-beasts. "You must learn to survive the crush of muscle and the weight of rage. Bite, claw, break, endure."

The first fights were chaos.

One wolf lunged for Oni's shoulder, and the impact sent him sprawling. Another pinned Rain to the ground, its claws raking across his arm before he could shove it off with a desperate kick.

They bled. They limped. They cursed.

But night after night, fight after fight, their movements sharpened.

Oni learned to use his raw strength like a weapon, seizing wolves mid-lunge and hurling them against trees.

Rain became fluid and precise, sliding under attacks and striking the throat or joint with lethal efficiency.

By the end of the second month, the shadow wolves no longer left with victory howls—they dissolved into mist, defeated more often than not.

[The Hunger Trials]

Halfway through the month, Kazin added a cruelty that nearly broke them.

He stopped feeding them.

"You will eat only what you can hunt with your hands," he said as he scattered the contents of their meager packs into the black mud. "The Minotaur will not wait for you to be rested and fed. Hunger is part of the forge."

Oni and Rain spent days prowling Shafu's dead forests, scouring for prey. Most creatures were phantoms—illusions that vanished at a touch—but some were real enough to bleed.

Oni snapped the neck of a horned, goat-like thing after a brutal chase, eating its raw meat over a meager fire. Rain learned to trap serpent-like creatures in the roots of black trees, their flesh bitter but sustaining.

Hunger stripped them of hesitation. Hunger taught them the truth Kazin wanted them to understand:

The beast survives because it must.

[The Trial of Falling Blood]

As the second month waned, Kazin prepared their final test.

He led them to the Canyon of Skulls, where a thin waterfall of black water cascaded down stone walls littered with old bones. The air was colder here, and the mist clung to their skin like icy fingers.

"You will fight each other," Kazin said, his tone like carved obsidian. "Not to the death—but close enough that you will taste it. Blood and bone are nothing until tested in battle."

Oni and Rain exchanged a long, silent glance. They had fought side by side for weeks, bled together, survived together. But Kazin's eyes brooked no argument.

The fight began in silence.

Oni lunged first, fists swinging in a blur of raw power. Rain ducked and rolled, landing a sharp elbow into Oni's ribs. The impact jarred his bruises from the wolf fights, but Oni didn't falter. He grappled Rain to the ground, fists pounding the dirt inches from his face.

Rain responded with precision, jamming his knee into Oni's side, twisting free, and sweeping his legs. They rolled in the mud, striking, dodging, snarling like the very wolves they had been fighting for weeks.

It ended with Oni pinning Rain, blood dripping from a cut above his eye, Rain's breath ragged beneath him. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, and in their eyes was not hatred—but recognition.

They had both become beasts.

Kazin nodded from the edge of the clearing. "Good. You are blooded now. Month two is complete."

He looked up to the shadowed sky, where no sun shone and yet the mists seemed to shift as if marking the end of another cycle.

"The next month is the hardest for the mind. The wolf and the body are strong, but the labyrinth will break your spirit if you let it. Prepare… for the third month."

{Month 3 – The Labyrinth of Mind}

The third month began in silence.

No wolves.

No stone burdens.

No commands from Kazin.

He simply led them into the forest's heart, where the trees grew so tightly packed that almost no space separated their blackened trunks. Mist clung to the roots like grasping hands, and the air smelled of rot and wet iron.

When they reached a clearing dominated by a spiraling formation of stones, Kazin finally spoke.

"Month one made you hunters. Month two made you weapons. But a weapon is useless if the mind that wields it breaks in the dark."

He drew his hand across the air, and the stone spiral shifted, bending into impossible geometry—a labyrinth of shadowy corridors that pulsed like a living thing.

"Welcome to your next trial. The Labyrinth of Mind. Shafu will show you your nightmares, your failures, and the parts of yourself you try to bury. There is only one way to survive: walk through the fear without letting it own you. If you break… you will never come back."

The mist thickened. The stones pulsed with faint, blood-red light.

Oni felt a prickle along his spine. Rain swallowed, his throat dry.

"What happens if we fail?" Rain asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Kazin didn't answer. He only gestured to the entrance.

"Step inside."

[The First Descent]

The labyrinth swallowed them in absolute darkness.

The air was heavy and wet, carrying a faint coppery tang. Every sound—their footsteps, the drip of unseen water—echoed in unnatural ways, as if the stone corridors bent sound back toward them.

"Stay close," Oni muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah, no shit," Rain whispered. His voice cracked with unease.

They followed the narrow path, the walls slick and cold under their fingertips. After a few turns, the path split into three, each corridor identical.

"Which way?" Rain asked.

Oni shrugged. "Middle, I guess—"

Slam.

The walls closed, cutting them off from each other.

"RAIN!" Oni's voice boomed through the darkness, met with silence.

"Goddammit, no! Oni?!" Rain's voice came from somewhere distant, distorted, like he was underwater.

The labyrinth had separated them, and the game had begun.

(Oni's Path: Rage and Regret)

Oni pressed forward, fists tight, breath sharp. His pulse hammered in his ears.

The first hallucination hit him like a sucker punch.

The corridor expanded, and suddenly, he was standing in his old village, the night it burned. The screams of his family filled the air, and the smell of smoke and blood choked him.

He turned, and his mother was there—eyes hollow, skin blackened by flame.

"Why didn't you save us, Oni?" she whispered. "You were strong… but not strong enough."

"Fuck… no… this isn't real," he muttered, backing up. He knew it was the labyrinth. He knew.

But then a charred hand grabbed his arm, and the burning houses lit up in a roar of fire. His chest seized with panic.

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT REAL!" he bellowed, punching the specter. His fist went through ash—but the guilt remained, gnawing like teeth.

(Rain's Path: Fear of Helplessness)

Rain's corridor twisted like a serpent, and soon the ground turned to water. He was chest-deep in a freezing river, and the stone walls dissolved into an endless flooded cavern.

He heard screaming—his own voice echoing back at him. Then he saw them: The faces of those he'd failed during past fights. Phantom allies dragged beneath the black water, hands reaching for him.

Oni, gurgling and sinking, eyes wide with betrayal.

"No, no, no, fuck this, fuck this—" Rain's voice cracked as he splashed forward, but the current dragged him under.

Freezing water filled his nose and mouth. He thrashed, but spectral hands clung to his legs. He could feel every ounce of that helpless terror he'd buried deep in his chest—the fear of being too weak to save anyone.

[The Whispering Shadows]

Days—or what felt like days—passed in this mental prison. There was no food, no water, no sense of time.

The shadows whispered in both boys' ears: "You will die here."

"You are weak."

"The beast will devour your soul."

Sometimes the walls breathed. Sometimes the floor became teeth, snapping at their feet. Sleep was impossible; even blinking invited new horrors.

Oni began talking to himself, muttering curses and affirmations to stay grounded.

Rain screamed once, a raw sound that ripped from his chest as a vision of Oni's corpse taunted him, throat torn out by wolves.

They were breaking. And Shafu knew it.

[The Breaking Point]

The labyrinth's final cruelty came on the twenty-second night.

Oni and Rain stumbled into a vast, circular chamber at the same time, from opposite sides. They were filthy, cut, trembling—shadows of themselves.

In the center stood Kazin, or at least… something wearing his face.

"Well done," the figure said. "The final trial is simple. Only one of you may leave this chamber alive."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Oni growled, his voice raw from days of screaming at phantoms.

"Kill him," the fake Kazin said to Rain. "Or he will kill you. The Key demands blood."

They hesitated. Their bodies shook. Their minds, frayed and bloodied, almost believed it.

Then the shadow Kazin morphed, sprouting wolf heads and Minotaur horns, jaws gnashing.

Rain fell to his knees. "I can't—fuck, I can't—"

Oni roared, primal and defiant. "FUCK YOU!" He charged the shadow and tore into it with his bare hands, clawing and punching until it dissolved into smoke.

The labyrinth collapsed.

[Emergence from the Mind]

When they crawled out of the spiral stones, seven days had passed in reality.

Kazin was waiting, arms crossed. His gaze swept over their hollow eyes, trembling hands, and mud-caked skin.

"You walked through your own hells," he said softly. "And you crawled back out. Good. Now… the Minotaur will not break you with fear."

Oni spat blood into the dirt. Rain wiped his face, voice hoarse: "Next time… I swear to fucking god… I'm punching you in the throat, Kazin."

Kazin smirked faintly. "If you survive the Minotaur, I will allow it."

Month 3 was over. But something in their eyes had changed forever. Part of them would always be trapped in that labyrinth.

[Month 4 – The Minotaur's Shadow]

The labyrinth had left them wrecked—hollow-eyed, trembling, and smelling like wet corpses.

Kazin gave them one night to sleep on the cold dirt. One night.

By the next "morning"—though Shafu never had mornings—he was kicking their ribs.

"Up," he said, voice flat as stone.

Oni groaned, face half-buried in mud. "Goddamn it, Kazin, I just fuckin' died in my head for a week. Can't I get—like—a half-day?"

Kazin crouched beside him. "Would you like me to tell the Minotaur that you need a nap?"

Oni stared at him, deadpan. "…You're a bitch."

Rain wheezed a laugh, though it ended in a cough. "I second that. Certified bitch."

Kazin's mouth twitched—just barely. "Good. If you still have the strength to insult me, you're ready to train."

[The Minotaur's Domain]

They hobbled after him, bodies stiff and scabbed, until the trees thinned and the ground became cracked stone. Ahead loomed a cavern mouth, massive and jagged like a wound in the earth. A foul wind blew out from it, carrying the scent of wet fur, old blood, and rot.

Kazin stopped at the edge. "This is where the Minotaur roams. It is not an illusion. It is not a phantom. If it hits you, you will die."

Rain blinked, voice a rasp. "…We're not actually fighting it yet, right?"

"Not yet," Kazin said. "But you will live in its shadow. Train in its echo. Survive its rage before you ever face its horns."

From deep in the cavern came a rumble, like a boulder rolling. Then a sound that vibrated in their bones:

HNNNNGGHHHHHHHHH-ROOOOOAAAAR.

The ground shook. Dust fell from the cavern roof.

Oni muttered, "Fuck me sideways… That's a cow?"

Rain wheezed. "Big-ass cow. Big-ass cow that can turn us into meat paste."

[Training Under Terror]

Month four was pure physical hell.

Kazin strapped weighted chains to their shoulders and had them run the jagged, uneven ground outside the Minotaur's cavern. They sprinted, climbed, and crawled until their bodies were raw.

Every so often, a distant roar would rumble from within the cavern, vibrating through the stone.

"The Minotaur can smell weakness," Kazin said one day as Rain stumbled to his knees. "You must learn to move even when every part of your body is breaking. If you stop, it will find you. And it will crush you."

Sometimes, rocks would suddenly shatter along the canyon walls, as if something massive inside had slammed against the stone. Once, a horn—long as a spear—jabbed out from the darkness, testing the air.

Oni stared at it, sweat dripping into his eyes. "…I swear to fuck, if that thing comes out right now, I'm just lying down and accepting death."

Rain groaned. "Same. I'll just ask it to make it quick."

Kazin didn't smile. "The Minotaur doesn't kill quickly."

"…Well, fuck."

[The Boulder Drills]

Kazin's next invention was cruel enough to make the wolf trials seem like summer camp.

He had them push boulders—each the size of a small hut—up the cracked stone slopes, bare-handed. Their shoulders bled. Their palms tore. Their backs screamed.

Whenever one of them paused, Kazin would slice a rune in the air, sending a ripple of sound into the cavern. The Minotaur would roar in answer, and the ground would shake beneath them.

" Fuck, fuck, fuck, go, GO!" Rain shouted as the tremor nearly knocked him over. "I'm too young to be turned into bull st!"

"Push, damn it!" Oni bellowed, veins bulging as he shoved the rock. "If that thing comes out, I'm throwing you at it first!"

"Bitch, it'll just use me as a fuckin' toothpick!"

The humor was bleak, desperate—but it kept them sane. Every laugh was half a scream.

[First Blood with the Beast]

On the twenty-third day of the month, Kazin decided they were ready for a taste.

He led them into the outer tunnel of the cavern. The stench was overwhelming—blood, dung, and wet fur. The walls were clawed and scarred, and massive hoofprints dented the stone floor.

"Do not run," Kazin warned. "Running triggers the charge. If it charges, you die."

Rain whispered, "Cool. Love this. Ten outta ten experience."

The air vibrated before they even saw it. Then… it appeared.

The Minotaur lumbered into view from the shadows:

Fifteen feet tall, muscles like knotted tree trunks.

Horns jagged and chipped, smeared with old blood.

Eyes glowing faint orange, locking onto them with predator focus.

It snorted, a blast of hot, rancid air washing over them.

Oni's voice cracked. "Oh, fuck me."

Rain whispered, "Nope. Just nope. I'm already pissing myself."

The Minotaur charged.

The ground split beneath its hooves. The walls quaked.

"KAZIN!" Oni bellowed.

"Move!" Kazin barked.

They dove aside, rolling in the filth as the beast thundered past. A single horn grazed Oni's arm, slicing a line of fire into his flesh. He screamed, "AHHH—FUCK!"

Rain grabbed him, yanking him behind a boulder. "Holy shit, holy shit—WE'RE GONNA DIE!"

The Minotaur wheeled, sniffing the air, then slowly backed into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood and gouged stone.

Oni clutched his arm, panting, blood dripping between his fingers. "We are… so… fucked."

Kazin's shadow loomed over them. "Good. Now you understand why this month exists. Next time, you will not dodge—you will endure."

Both boys groaned.

Rain muttered, "I'm gonna haunt your ass if I die here."

Kazin almost smiled. "Then make it interesting."

[The Shadow of Death]

The rest of the month was relentless:

Dragging chains through mud while the Minotaur's roars echoed in their bones.

Learning to brace against shockwaves by planting their weight like stone.

Letting smaller shadow-illusions ram into their chests, forcing them to roll with the impact rather than break.

By the final night, they were walking bruises, bodies hard as steel but quivering with exhaustion.

Kazin stood at the canyon's edge, arms crossed.

"You are starting to understand the Minotaur," he said. "Next month… you will face death itself. Cerberus waits. And it does not roar—it devours."

Oni spat blood. "…Cool. Can't wait."

Rain groaned, "I hate this key so fucking much."

[Month 5 – Death's Breath]

The fourth month had taught them how to survive in the shadow of rage.

The fifth month would teach them how to die.

[The River of Corpses]

Kazin led them deeper into Shafu than ever before, to a canyon split by a black river that flowed like thick oil. The stench hit them first—rot, wet bone, and sulfur. Mist rose from the surface in lazy tendrils, and sometimes, in the dim light, it looked like hands reaching up from beneath the water.

"The veil between life and death is thinnest here," Kazin said, his voice carrying a weight that cut through even their exhaustion. "The air itself will taste like grave soil. You will drink it. You will choke on it. And you will come back changed—or not at all."

Oni stared at the river, his jaw tight. "Changed how?"

"You will die," Kazin said simply. "Not in body. In spirit. The part of you that clings to the world will tear. Cerberus will smell it on you. If you fear death, you are already its meal."

Rain's eyes flicked to Oni. "…I suddenly miss the fucking Minotaur."

"Yeah," Oni muttered. "At least it's honest about trying to kill us."

[The Breath of Death]

The first exercise was breathing the river's mist.

They knelt at the bank while Kazin inscribed runes in the air. "Inhale," he commanded.

The first breath burned like acid in their lungs. Both boys choked, gagged, and clawed at the dirt as the mist clawed cold fingers down their throats. Their vision swam.

Rain fell to his side, coughing violently. "Holy… fuck… are we… dying?"

"Yes," Kazin said calmly. "Again."

Hour after hour, they inhaled death until their lips turned blue and their chests rattled. The world began to warp—colors inverted, shadows writhed, and the forest seemed to lean closer, listening.

Then the hallucinations began.

[The Parade of the Dead]

By the fifth day, Oni and Rain couldn't tell if they were asleep, awake, or somewhere in between. The riverbank crawled with phantoms—men, women, and children, their skin gray and sloughing off, eyes hollow.

One waded from the river, jaw hanging loose, and pointed at Oni.

"You let me die."

Oni's gut twisted. He recognized the man—an ally he'd left behind during an old ambush. His voice cracked. "This… this isn't real."

The ghost shrieked, its jaw splitting wider than humanly possible, and lunged, sinking phantom teeth into his shoulder.

Oni screamed and fell back, flailing. His fingers passed through mist—but the pain was real, radiating to the bone.

Rain had his own demons. He saw his younger brother—face waterlogged, eyes crawling with worms—stumbling toward him through the mist.

"You didn't save me, Rain. You never save anyone."

"Fuck you!" Rain roared, throwing a rock through the phantom's skull. The head popped like a soggy melon, spraying black mist that clung to his skin. He gagged and vomited bile onto the dirt.

Kazin watched from the bank, arms folded, his silhouette sharp against the endless mist. "Good. Let it in. Let it carve the fear out of you. Only those who die in spirit can face the King of Death."

[The Drowning Ritual]

After two weeks of this living nightmare, Kazin escalated the trial.

He led them waist-deep into the river. The water was thick, cold, and alive, sliding against their skin like a nest of snakes. Dead fish floated belly-up, some with human faces that mouthed silent screams.

"Now you will drown," Kazin said.

Oni froze. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Rain's voice cracked. "Drown? Like, actually drown?"

"In spirit," Kazin clarified. "You will inhale death until your mind crosses the veil. If you cling to life, your heart will fail. If you surrender, you will walk among the dead and return."

Before they could argue, he shoved Oni under.

Oni thrashed, eyes wide as black water invaded his mouth and nose. He tasted rot and blood, felt fingers caress his tongue, and something squirm down his throat. His chest seized. His mind screamed—animal panic, primal terror—but slowly, he forced himself to let go.

The world went silent.

And he was standing on a shore of skulls.

The sky was gray and streaked with black veins. The river here carried bodies, some screaming, some whispering. A towering black gate loomed on the opposite shore, and before it… a three-headed shadow slept, its chains rattling with every breath.

Cerberus.

Even in dreams—or death—its presence crushed him, pressing on his chest like a mountain. One head twitched, sniffing the air, and Oni knew it smelled him.

Rain followed soon after, dragged under the black water by Kazin's hand. His passage through the veil was worse.

He landed in a flooded wasteland where drowned corpses clung to his legs, whispering his name. One head rose from the water—a corpse with his own face, bloated and purple.

"You'll die in this river too," it hissed.

Rain screamed and kicked free, stumbling onto the bone shore beside Oni. They both stared at the sleeping titan in the distance, its three heads twitching, chains rattling in a rhythm like a heartbeat.

"Holy… fucking… shit," Rain whispered, teeth chattering. "That's… that's him. That's Cerberus."

Oni's voice was hoarse. "…We're so fucking dead."

[Rebirth in Wrath]

When Kazin finally pulled them from the river, they vomited black water and blood, shaking violently on the bank. Their skin was pale. Their eyes looked… older.

"You've crossed the veil," Kazin said. "You've smelled the King of Death. Month five is complete. From this point on, you are ghosts wearing flesh—and ghosts fear nothing."

Rain spat blood and mud, coughing. "…I hate you so fucking much, Kazin."

Oni lay flat on the dirt, staring at the black sky. "If I survive this… I'm eating a whole cow. Raw. Just to spite this place."

Kazin allowed himself the smallest smirk. "Good. Hold on to that hunger. Next month, you'll need it."

{Month 6 – The Feral Symphony}

By the time the sixth month began, Oni and Rain were barely human anymore.

Their eyes were sunken, their muscles roped with corded strength, their skin a patchwork of scars and scabs. They smelled like the forest floor and moved like predators.

The moment Kazin woke them by tossing a wolf carcass onto their sleeping forms, Oni didn't flinch. He just sat up, grabbed a chunk of raw meat, and started chewing.

Rain groaned from his nest of leaves and mud. "Goddamn it, man. Can we at least cook it?"

Oni grunted through a mouthful. "Fire's for pussies."

"Fuck you. My stomach's for, like… non-parasites."

[The Pack Awakens]

Kazin watched them devour the carcass with something almost like pride.

"You are finally ready to fight like predators," he said. "Not men. Not soldiers. Predators. Month six is about the hunt. You will learn to move as a pack, to kill as one, and to turn the instincts of Shafu against itself."

Rain wiped blood from his chin. "You mean… we're becoming wolves?"

"No," Kazin said. "You're becoming apex wolves. The kind the other wolves have nightmares about."

And then he whistled.

From the trees came a chorus of howls. Shadow wolves poured into the clearing—ten, fifteen, twenty. Their eyes glowed sickly yellow, their fur matted with mud and blood.

Oni's lips peeled back in a grin. "Oh, I missed these ugly motherfuckers."

Rain cracked his knuckles. "…They're not gonna like what we've become."

[Feral Combat Ascendant]

The first fight was carnage.

The wolves lunged, snarling and snapping. Oni caught one mid-air, snapped its spine over his knee, and hurled the limp body into two more. Blood sprayed across his chest, and he howled—not in fear, but in exhilaration.

Rain ducked under a leaping wolf, slashing its throat with a jagged stone. He kicked another in the ribs so hard it collapsed, then spun with a grin that was more teeth than joy.

"Holy shit, Oni—" he yelled over the chaos. "—we're actually fucking monsters now!"

Oni ripped a wolf's jaw apart with his bare hands. "HELL YEAH WE ARE!"

By the end, the clearing was a butchered nightmare. Blood soaked the dirt. The stench of copper and wet fur clung to their skin. Oni and Rain were painted in gore, panting, grinning like lunatics.

Kazin descended into the clearing, stepping over corpses. "Good. But wolves are only the first note in this symphony."

[The Minotaur Drill, Part Two]

The next phase was a return to the Minotaur, but this time, Oni and Rain weren't prey—they were hunters learning to endure its world.

Kazin's "exercise" was simple:

He drew the Minotaur out with a rune that sent a sonic pulse into its cavern.

Oni and Rain had to stay within striking distance of the beast for an entire hour without dying.

The first attempt was chaos.

The Minotaur thundered out of the cave like a living avalanche, horns goring the air. Oni and Rain scrambled along the rocks, dodging sprays of stone and dirt as its hooves shattered boulders.

"FUCK ME, IT'S FAST!" Rain screamed, diving behind a jagged outcrop as the Minotaur's horns grazed stone, showering him in shards.

Oni was laughing—full, manic laughter—as he vaulted over a boulder. "I FUCKING LOVE THIS!"

"You're insane!"

"HELL YEAH I AM!"

By the fourth attempt, something had changed. They weren't running scared anymore—they were circling, staying just out of reach, learning the rhythm of its charges, the tremor in the earth that gave away its weight shift.

They became predators studying prey, even if the prey could crush them like bugs.

[The Feral Hunt]

Week three of Month 6, Kazin released them into the deepest part of Shafu, where the shadows birthed creatures worse than wolves.

Six-legged panthers with bone spines along their backs.

Serpent-limbed boars that squealed like dying children.

Eyeless bears that hunted entirely by the sound of your heartbeat.

It was a blood symphony.

Oni crushed a boar's skull with a rock the size of his torso. Blood and brain matter splattered his face, and he just wiped it off with a feral grin.

Rain slid under a panther's leap and shoved a sharpened stick through its throat, twisting until it gurgled and went still.

At night, they feasted on raw meat, sitting beside a fire Kazin begrudgingly allowed for cooking.

Rain chewed a strip of something's leg and muttered, "If I survive this, I'm never eating salad again. It's meat forever. Fuck plants."

Oni tore a tendon with his teeth. "Plants are for weaklings. Real men eat things that tried to kill them first."

[The Symphonic Kill]

By the end of the month, Kazin orchestrated the final feral test:

A full hunt against an Alpha Shadow Wolf, a creature the size of a horse with eyes like burning coals and a maw full of dagger teeth.

The hunt was poetry in blood:

Rain lured it into the open with taunts and thrown rocks.

Oni ambushed it from above, slamming onto its back and stabbing its neck with a jagged bone.

It bucked and howled, tearing gashes into Oni's leg. Rain dove in and jammed his arm down its throat, holding the jaws open while Oni snapped its neck.

When it hit the dirt, the boys were soaked in blood, panting and grinning like lunatics.

Rain coughed, spitting red. "We… are… fucking legends."

Oni raised a bloody fist to the black sky. "FERAL KINGS, BABY!"

Kazin stepped into the clearing, eyes gleaming. "Good. Month six is complete. Now… you are ready to face the King of Death."

They didn't cheer this time. They just grinned, teeth blood-stained, eyes wild.

They weren't men anymore. They were weapons.