The Chosen Pervert

Chapter 26: The Cavern's Call

Morning came too soon.

The sky was still that sickly blood-red, the sun hidden behind thick clouds of ash and smoke. The air tasted like sulfur and decay.

I woke to Aldric shaking my shoulder gently.

"Time to move," he said quietly.

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. My body ached from sleeping on the hard ground, and my mind felt foggy from too little rest.

Around me, the others were already packing up camp. Lyra was checking her bear's wounds from the imp battle. Torren and the other mercenaries were distributing rations—stale bread and dried meat that tasted like leather.

Rue was awake, sitting on the opposite side of the camp.

She wasn't looking at me.

I felt a pang in my chest.

She's avoiding me.

I understood why. After what Aldric had explained—the heat, the imprinting, the way her body had responded to me—she was probably mortified.

But understanding didn't make it hurt any less.

I wanted to go to her. To tell her it was okay. That I didn't think less of her.

But I stayed where I was.

Give her space, I told myself. She needs time.

Still, it bothered me.

It bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

We resumed our journey along the chasm.

The landscape was desolate. Barren. Oppressive.

Jagged black rocks jutted from the ground like broken teeth. The earth was cracked and scorched, as if the land itself had been burned from the inside out.

And the chasm—

The chasm stretched endlessly beside us, a gaping wound in the earth.

Every few minutes, those sounds would echo up from the void.

Low, guttural groans. Wet, slithering noises. The distant clatter of something massive moving far below.

It made my skin crawl.

"What the hell is down there?" Torren muttered, his hand resting on his sword hilt.

"Nothing good," Aldric said grimly.

Lyra's bear growled softly, its ears pinned back.

Even the animal could sense it.

Something's wrong with this place.

We walked in silence, the weight of survival pressing down on all of us.

We were exhausted. Battered. Running on fumes.

But we couldn't stop.

Not yet.

I kept glancing at Rue.

She was walking ahead of me, her posture tense, her ears swiveling at every sound.

She hadn't looked at me once since we'd started moving.

She's embarrassed, I thought. She thinks I'm disgusted by her.

But I wasn't.

I was confused, yes. Conflicted, absolutely.

But disgusted?

Never.

I just wish she'd talk to me.

I wanted to close the distance between us. To reach out and touch her shoulder. To tell her everything was okay.

But every time I took a step toward her, she seemed to sense it and moved further ahead.

Fuck.

Aldric noticed.

"Give her time," he said quietly, falling into step beside me.

"I know," I said. "I just—"

"She's processing," Aldric interrupted gently. "What happened last night was overwhelming for her. She lost control. That's terrifying for someone like Rue."

I nodded, my chest tight.

"She'll come around," Aldric said. "Just be patient."

Patient.

I could do that.

I had to do that.

But it didn't make it any easier.

We walked for hours.

The chasm never ended.

The sounds never stopped.

And the oppressive weight of this cursed continent pressed down on us with every step.

Then, in the distance, I saw it.

A mountainside.

Massive. Black. Jagged.

It rose from the wasteland like a broken fang, its surface twisted and unnatural.

And at its base—

A cavern.

The entrance was enormous, easily fifty feet tall and twice as wide. The opening was pitch black, swallowing all light that dared approach it.

The rock around the entrance was wrong.

It wasn't just black—it was corrupted.

Veins of dark, pulsing energy ran through the stone like infected blood vessels. The mana radiating from it felt twisted, malevolent, wrong.

The party stopped.

"What the hell is that?" Torren said, his voice uneasy.

"Nothing good," Lyra said, her hand on her bow.

Aldric stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the cavern.

"That's corrupted mana," he said quietly. "Dark magic. Old magic."

"Should we go around it?" one of the mercenaries asked.

"We should—" Aldric started.

And then I heard it.

"Wyatt..."

I froze.

My blood turned to ice.

No.

No, it can't be—

"Wyatt... please..."

It was her voice.

My mother's voice.

Faint. Distant. Coming from deep within the cavern.

"Help me... Wyatt, please... I'm so scared..."

My heart stopped.

"Wyatt?" Aldric said, his voice sharp. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak.

I couldn't breathe.

It's her.

She's in there.

She's alive.

"Wyatt... please... don't leave me here..."

Her voice was trembling. Desperate. Pleading.

She's suffering.

She's in pain.

She needs me.

I took a step toward the cavern.

"Wyatt, stop," Aldric said, grabbing my arm.

But I barely heard him.

"Wyatt... it hurts... please... save me..."

Tears stung my eyes.

Mom.

I'm coming.

I'm—

And then, another voice spoke.

It wasn't my mother's.

It was calm. Wise. Neutral.

And it spoke directly into my mind.

"Do not enter this place, child."

I froze again, my breath catching.

What—

"This is a trap. You know this. Do not let your grief blind you."

The voice was unlike anything I'd ever heard.

It wasn't male or female. It wasn't young or old.

It simply was.

And it felt... divine.

"Turn back. Walk away. Your mother is not here."

But even as the voice spoke, my mother's voice grew louder.

"WYATT! PLEASE! THEY'RE HURTING ME! PLEASE, WYATT, SAVE ME!"

My chest tightened painfully.

No.

No, she's in there.

She's suffering.

I can hear her.

"It is not her," the calm voice said. "It is an illusion. A lure. Do not fall for it."

"WYATT! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!"

My mother's voice was sobbing now. Screaming.

"THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME! WYATT, PLEASE!"

I couldn't take it.

I couldn't stand here and listen to her beg for help.

What if it's real?

What if she's really in there?

What if I walk away and she dies because I didn't try?

"Child, listen to me—"

"WYATT! PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME!"

I broke.

I ripped my arm free from Aldric's grip and ran.

"WYATT, NO!" Aldric shouted.

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

My mother was in there.

She was suffering.

And I was going to save her.

"WYATT, STOP!" Rue's voice rang out behind me.

I heard footsteps pounding after me.

The party was chasing me.

But I was faster.

I reached the cavern entrance and plunged into the darkness.

The temperature dropped instantly.

The air was thick, oppressive, suffocating.

I raised my hand, summoning a ball of light.

"Lux."

The orb flared to life, illuminating the cavern.

And I wished it hadn't.

The walls were wrong.

The rock was twisted, warped, shaped into unnatural angles and curves. Veins of dark energy pulsed through the stone like a heartbeat.

The mana here was corrupted.

It pressed against my skin, cold and slimy, like invisible hands trying to pull me deeper.

"Wyatt... I'm here... please... find me..."

My mother's voice echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the walls.

I ran deeper.

The tunnel twisted and turned, descending into the earth.

Behind me, I heard the others enter the cavern.

"WYATT!" Aldric's voice echoed. "STOP!"

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

She's here.

She's close.

I can feel it.

The tunnel opened into a massive chamber.

The ceiling was so high my light couldn't reach it. The walls were covered in those pulsing veins of dark energy.

And in the center of the chamber—

Nothing.

Just empty space.

"Wyatt..."

My mother's voice was right in front of me now.

"I'm here... please... help me..."

I spun around, searching.

"Mom?" I called out, my voice cracking. "Where are you?"

"I'm here, sweetheart... I'm right here..."

But I couldn't see her.

Where—

And then, the voice changed.

It deepened.

Twisted.

Became something else entirely.

"Welcome, God-Rank mage."

The temperature dropped even further.

The light from my orb flickered.

And from the shadows at the far end of the chamber, something moved.

Something massive.

A figure stepped forward.

Tall. Impossibly tall.

Clad in black armor that seemed to absorb light. A tattered cloak hung from its shoulders, swaying despite the lack of wind.

Its face—

Oh god.

Its face was a skull.

Not a mask.

A skull.

Bone-white, with empty eye sockets that glowed with sickly green fire.

The air around it shimmered with dark energy.

And when it spoke, its voice was like grinding stone and distant screams.

"I've been waiting for you."

My blood turned to ice.

No.

No, no, no—

Behind me, I heard the party enter the chamber.

"Wyatt!" Aldric shouted.

But I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

The figure took another step forward, and the ground trembled beneath its weight.

"You fell for it so easily," it said, its voice dripping with amusement. "The voice of your beloved mother. So desperate. So pathetic."

It tilted its head, the green fire in its eye sockets flaring.

"I am Karthax the Undying," it said. "Servant of the Dragon God. Lord of this domain."

It raised one skeletal hand, and the air around me grew heavy.

"And you, little mage," Karthax said, its voice a low, rumbling growl, "have walked willingly into my trap."

The chamber doors slammed shut behind us.

The walls pulsed with dark energy.

And Karthax smiled—a horrible, skeletal grin.

"Welcome to your grave."