Beast Evolution Forge

Chapter 135 Cain 4

Vell looked up at the stairs. They spiraled upward, disappearing into the darkness above. The air was also thick and heavy, pressing down on him like a wet blanket. He took a deep breath and started climbing.

The stairs were made of rough stone, worn smooth in places by the passage of time. As he climbed, he could feel the tower shaking slightly, as if something was moving inside it. He gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles white.

After what felt like hours, he reached a landing. A corridor stretched out before him, lit by flickering torches. The walls were covered in strange symbols, glowing faintly in what little light was available. He ran his fingers over them, feeling a faint hum of magic.

Suddenly, a noise echoed through the corridor. It sounded like a growl, low and menacing. He froze, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He listened closely, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.

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It came again, closer this time. He spun around, but there was nothing behind him. He turned back, and that's when he saw it—a shadow, moving along the wall. It was fast, too fast for him to see clearly.

He drew his sword, the blade humming as it left the scabbard. He crouched low, ready to strike. The shadow moved again, darting from one wall to another. It was playing with him, he realized, it wanted him to chase it.

He took a deep breath and focused. He could feel the magic in the air, swirling around him like a storm. He reached out with his mind, trying to sense the shadow's presence.

There it was—a faint flicker of energy, just below the surface of the wall. He lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air. The shadow let out a hiss and darted away, but not before he cut a piece of it off.

The severed piece fell to the ground, writhing like a living thing. He stepped back, watching it closely. It tried to reform, but the magic in his sword had weakened it. After a few moments, it dissipated, leaving behind a faint glow on the floor.

He sheathed his sword and continued down the corridor. The walls seemed to press in on him, the symbols glowing brighter as he passed. He could feel the magic in the air growing stronger, thicker.

At the end of the corridor, there was a door. It was made of dark wood, carved with intricate patterns. He placed his hand on it, and it creaked open slowly.

Inside was a large chamber, lit by a single chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. In the center of the room stood a table, covered in maps and diagrams.

He walked over to the table, his eyes scanning the maps. They showed the layout of the tower, with various rooms and corridors marked. He noticed a symbol on one of the maps—a circle with a dot in the center. It looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the room. "You shouldn't be here."

He turned around calmly and saw a figure stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadows. He was tall and thin, with a face like a skull. His eyes glowed red, and his voice was like the rustling of dry leaves.

The guardian's eyes widened as he was forced to divide his attention—stopping the chandelier with one spell while maintaining his page storm with another. The strain showed on his gaunt face.

"Your control is slipping," he taunted, pressing forward. The sword hummed louder, drinking in the ambient magic from the destroyed pages. "Tell me, guardian, what happens to all this knowledge when you lose focus?"

"You understand nothing," the guardian snarled. The remaining pages began to blacken and smoke. "These aren't just spells—they're memories. Lives. Power collected over ages." His form seemed to flicker, showing something ancient and hollow beneath the human facade. "And I won't let you—"

Vell didn't let him finish. He unleashed the sword's stored energy in a devastating wave, just as the guardian's concentration finally broke. The chandelier crashed down, the pages exploded into arcane fire, and the room descended into chaos.

When the dust settled, Vell stood among scattered papers and broken glass, the sword pulsing warmly in his grip. The guardian was on one knee, his robes smoking slightly. The bookshelves around them were scorched, but surprisingly intact.

"Not bad," Vell said, keeping his blade ready. "But I noticed you protected the shelves instead of yourself. Why?"

The guardian looked up, and for the first time, his red eyes held something like respect. "Because the knowledge must be preserved. It's all that stands between this world and what lies above."

He gestured upward, and Vell felt it—a pressure from the floors above, like something massive was pressing down on the tower. Something hungry.

[The power signature... it's similar to what we felt in Cain's true form.]

"How many tests must I pass?" Vell asked, though he already knew the answer.

The guardian stood slowly, straightening his robes. "As many as necessary to prove you're worthy." He waved a hand, and a section of the wall slid away, revealing another staircase. "Or until you die trying."

"Then I guess we're not done yet." He walked toward the stairs, but paused as he passed the guardian. "Those memories you mentioned—they're not just stored in books, are they?"

The guardian's laugh was hollow. "Clever boy. No, they're not. Everything in this tower remembers. Everything watches and hungers." His form began to fade like smoke. "The question is: what are you hungry for?"

He continued looking at the fading man and smirked, "power." He vanished and reappeared infront of the man, grabbing him by the throat.

"H-How... Y-you, what the hell are y-"

"Tasty mana, shall I move one now." He licked his lips, looking above, "wait for me, my next meal."