Chương 9: Crossing the Abyss

The lizard meat sizzled over the fire as Luke stared into the flames, though his focus remained locked on the system screen floating before his eyes. Name: Luke Level: 2 Race: Human Rank: F Class: Assassin (lvl 5) Profession: – Titles: – Health Points (HP): 190/190 Mana Points (MP): 35/110 Stamina: 65/90 Stats: Strength: 15 Agility: 23 Endurance: 9 Vitality: 19 -> 20 Perception: 16 Intelligence: 11 Free Points: 1 -> 0 He dumped his single free point into [Vitality].

A small edge, maybe useless, or maybe the difference between living and dying. Then he went back to eating. The meat tasted like nothing. It was tough, dry, and stringy, the kind of thing that took more patience than hunger. But that wasn't what bothered him. Even after days without a real meal, Luke wasn't truly hungry, not physically. The tension sat somewhere else, tight around his throat, the same cold feeling that always came before a mission. Then his mind went where he had been trying not to look.

Clara, with those stubborn, bone-crushing hugs every time he left the house. Martin, with his lectures that went on way too long, always followed by awkward apologies for pushing too hard. Noah, his older brother, trying to understand him, trying to get past the wall of silence Luke kept between them. And Lillian… that little girl who saw him as a hero, who always begged him to carry her home from school on his back even though she could walk just fine on her own. Luke swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I was a selfish idiot." He had lived with them for years, but he had never truly let them in. He had been afraid that if he let them in, he would forget his mother. Afraid that loving them meant betraying her. Now, though, he finally understood. He loved them. And damn, he missed them. You probably thought I hated you. I didn't. I just… didn't know how to let anyone in. Luke drew in a slow breath, watching the fire tremble.

"Guess you only realize what something's worth after you lose it." But this wasn't goodbye. Not yet. He wouldn't let that pain make him back down. He would use it to survive, to win. Luke stood. No more hesitation. He would steal that damn key, clear this dungeon, reach the tutorial, then go home and apologize for never being the son they deserved. He planted his feet firmly on the ground. His head was clear. His steps were steady.

"I'm clearing this challenge." Hours passed. Maybe a full day. Luke had lost track. He waited until his mana fully recovered, then stayed seated and motionless in front of the bridge, letting his stamina recover to full. From here on, he couldn't leave anything to chance. When he finally rose, he pulled in a slow breath and moved forward. Then he stopped. His eyes dropped. The abyss was worse than he remembered. Too dark. Too deep. Almost alive. It didn't feel like empty space. It felt like a presence.

Staring into it was like staring into the void itself: infinite, starless, soundless, with no way back. Luke closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked ahead. The bridge stretched through the darkness, far too long, sloping upward like a stone ramp suspended over nothing. One wrong step, one slip, and he was gone. Barefoot, he placed one foot in front of the other like a predator, like an assassin. Spine straight. Chin steady. Eyes forward. Mind blank. The world around him vanished.

Each step was light, silent, measured. Wind rose from the abyss and brushed his skin like a whispered warning. Then the bridge trembled. Luke swallowed, but he didn't react. He didn't stiffen. He didn't panic. He let his body move with it, shifting his weight with the sway like he was standing on a rocking boat. Then he continued. Each step became a small victory. Sweat ran down his face, but his focus didn't waver. The abyss gnawed at his thoughts.

The wind grew stronger, and the bridge shook again, harder this time. Luke hesitated. His balance failed for a fraction of a second, and his breath caught in his throat. He adjusted. Don't fight the bridge. Flow with it. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. But the path ahead changed, or maybe his mind did. The bridge was longer. Farther away. As if the destination retreated with every step he took.

Panic surged up all at once, and Luke dropped to his knees as the bridge lurched beneath him, twisting and swinging like a rope in the middle of a hurricane. Stone wasn't supposed to move like that. Reality wasn't supposed to bend like that.

"No…" he whispered, digging his fingers into the surface. The abyss seemed to reach for him with invisible hands, trying to swallow him whole. The bridge wasn't stable. It was alive, like the sea, like instinct. Luke forced himself back to his feet, unsteady and tense, his muscles burning. The moment he stood, the bridge calmed. He let the air out slowly. It's a test. Everything in that dungeon was. Wait too long, and the bridge punished him.

Move the right way, and it flowed beneath his feet, like a beast answering a predator's rhythm. Luke closed his eyes and pictured it again: a panther. Still. Silent. Lethal. When he opened his eyes, they locked on the end of the bridge. The chest. The throne. The temple. He moved, one foot after the other, pure instinct, light as smoke. Then a voice came from behind him, exactly like his own.

"You're going to fall." Luke froze. Every muscle locked. He wanted to look back, but something held him in place. He knew that if he turned, the bridge would react again.

"I told you… you're going to fall." Luke closed his eyes for one second, opened them again, and walked.

"Look down. Into the abyss. It's watching. Calling." The voice was low, barely a whisper, but it was his. His own voice. Luke didn't answer. He just kept walking as the wind rose, pressing against his chest as if the abyss itself wanted to shove him off.

"One wrong step… and you're dead. Idiot."

"Shut up," Luke muttered, eyes fixed ahead. The voice laughed, dry, close, mocking.

"You feel it, don't you? Your feet are slick. The stone's slippery. You already know how this ends… Taking off your shoes was a mistake." Luke's breath faltered, but he didn't stop. That sentence, that exact thought, had crossed his mind before he stepped onto the bridge. The same doubt. The same flash of fear. Maybe it was his mind trying to sabotage him. Maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter. Luke walked the way he had trained.

He imagined panthers in the jungle, silent and tense, muscles coiled beneath their skin, stalking prey for hours without making a sound, without blinking, without giving in. Their bodies weren't just muscle. They were weapons. Living precision. Killers by nature. Luke copied them. His mind became a still lake. No wind. No ripples. A panther crouched to drink, eyes always alert. The world disappeared. The wind vanished. The bridge fell away. Only the objective remained: the chest, the throne, the key.

The voice kept whispering behind him, spitting insults, doubts, and poison, but Luke ignored it like leaves scraping over stone. Then he felt it. Solid stone beneath both feet. The end of the bridge. A weight lifted from his chest. Relief hit hard enough to leave him unsteady. [Congratulations! You have completed the first challenge: The Path of Balance] Luke sucked in a breath. Only then did he realize he hadn't been breathing properly since halfway across. He had entered a perfect state of concentration.

I made it. He looked back. The bridge was calm, straight, motionless. No wind. No tremors. No voice. As if none of it had been real. But his body knew better. He had passed. Ahead, the floating island spread out before him. A small grove covered part of the island, and a stone path wound between the trees. Farther on, the temple waited. Luke moved lightly, silently. He carried no weapon in his hands. The holster was still stored in his inventory.

Along the path, kobolds stood like statues, eyes open, bodies frozen, caught in some kind of trance, asleep on their feet. None of them reacted. Luke didn't trust that, so he slipped past them without a sound. The temple rose ahead, vast and forgotten, heavy with age. The entrance yawned open like the mouth of something ancient, waiting. Inside, the air felt dense. Statues lined the walls, their stone eyes turned toward him. At the end of the corridor waited the throne. The boss.

A massive black figure sat there, motionless, with curved horns and a straight posture. Too still. Silent as death. At the foot of the throne stood the chest. Luke stopped. He didn't breathe. Didn't think. He could only stare. That next step was the hardest one yet. Fear crawled up his spine, but Luke held firm and fought it. There it is. The key. My only shot at getting out. Luke took one step forward. Then metal crashed down behind him. Luke turned, and his heart stopped cold.

A barred gate had dropped, sealing the temple entrance. The only way out had disappeared. A notification blinked before his eyes, as cold as the air around him. [Welcome to the second challenge: The King's Game] The floor trembled. Lines lit up under Luke's feet, forming a massive board. Rows and columns of squares spread across the entire temple floor. At the far end stood the chest, but Luke wasn't looking at it. His stare locked on the throne. On the boss. His pulse hammered in his ears.

The horned black figure remained seated and still, like a statue forgotten in an ancient tomb. Dead… or pretending. Luke couldn't tell. Then the voices came. Low. Whispering. Dissonant.

"Challenger." Luke turned. The statues along the walls had opened their mouths. They were speaking.

"The objective is simple: cross the board and win the [King's Game]."

"But be warned… one mistake will cost you your life." Some of the squares near Luke's feet shifted. Trapdoors. They snapped open, revealing a glimpse of pure darkness below. Not depth. Emptiness. The same devouring abyss he had crossed to get here. A second later, the squares closed, silent and subtle, as if they had never moved. And in that moment, Luke understood. I can't mess up. Not once. One bad step… and I'm gone.

"Good luck, challenger," the voices whispered.

"One step is all it takes."