While Luca stepped into silence and Tarin was swallowed by illusion, the scarred man walked a different road. His name was Karn.
Karn's boots crunched on gravel as he came to a large, looming warehouse. Unlike the cold void of the tower, this place seemed real. Heavy wooden doors stood half-open, almost inviting. A faint, strange light pulsed from within.
He stepped inside.
Shelves lined the walls, stacked with bottles of every color, bright blues, burning reds, pale greens. Each one had a tag, with neat writing describing effects: Strength Beyond Flesh. Eyes of the Hawk. Skin Like Stone.
Karn's breath quickened.
His hands flew across the shelves, grabbing bottles, reading labels. "Strength," he muttered. "Power. Real power."
Without a second thought, he popped the cork on one glowing red potion and drank. Heat rushed through his body. His muscles tightened. The veins in his arms swelled. He clenched his fists and laughed.
He swung his arm once through the air.
The sound cracked like a whip.
He laughed again, louder now. "Kid," he growled, thinking of Luca, "you're done. I'm going to skin you alive."
He stalked deeper into the warehouse, where weapons were displayed like treasures. Swords that shimmered like starlight. Axes so sharp they hummed in the still air.
"All mine," Karn whispered.
He glanced toward the back of the warehouse, thinking of the other two he came with. "They'll want a share," he murmured. His face twisted. "I'll deal with them too."
He reached for the largest sword on the rack, its edge glinting like ice. He grinned and lifted it high.
But the moment his hand closed around the hilt, something changed.
The blade rusted.
Before his eyes, the shining steel corroded into brittle brown scrap. Bits of metal flaked off and drifted to the floor.
"What?" He dropped it.
Around him, one by one, every weapon twisted, bent, and blackened. The glow of magic flickered, then died. Blades turned to old iron, handles cracked, tips crumbled to dust.
"No," Karn whispered. "No, no—no!"
Then the potions changed.
Colors darkened. Bottles cracked. The once-glowing liquid inside thickened, turned grey. Worms writhed inside the sludge. A sour, rotting stench filled the air.
Karn stumbled back, gagging.
He fell to his knees, clutching his gut.
"Why?! Why is this happening?!" he shouted.
Then it came. The laugh.
The same low, crawling laugh Tarin had heard. It slithered through the air like smoke, curling around Karn's ears.
"Who's there?!" he screamed. "You did this! I'll kill you!"
But his words cut short.
A bolt of pain shot through Karn's stomach like fire coiling through his insides. He cried out, clutching his middle as his body began to contort. The warehouse floor, once a solid foundation beneath his feet, now seemed to writhe and twist like a living thing.
Karn's vision blurred, and his head spun. He tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. He fell hard, the impact jolting through his body like a crack of thunder. The pain intensified, spreading like wildfire through his veins.
His skin felt like it was on fire, his muscles burning with an otherworldly agony. Karn's screams echoed off the warehouse walls as he rolled onto his side, foamy spittle bubbling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes bulged, and his face contorted in a grimace of pure torment.
Then a shadow fell over him.
A figure stood there, wrapped in black.
Karn tried to speak. To beg. "S… save…"
But as his eyes met the figure's face, the same face, like burnt wax, his words died.
There was no mercy in what he saw.