Return of the god races

Ymir moved without a stop . His steps were light as feathers, yet their weightlessness betrayed his attempts to remain unnoticed. Tension clung to him like a shadow. The emptiness around him was deceptive—an illusion. A false calm in a place that should have been brimming with danger.

Who knew what kind of nightmare would appear next? It could take any form and shape. Every turn, every twist might bring him closer to his grave—or something even worse.

Horrors—boundless, unfathomable, immeasurable.

Ymir didn't dwelled on the nature of his enemies. He simply moved forward. Deeper. Further.

Desperation had a way of twisting those under its influence , making drained souls feel jaded and hollow. Panic didn't matter anymore. It was a mere itch beneath skin—distracting, but no longer crippling.

As he wandered the labyrinth, Ymir encountered more monsters. He slipped past them like a ghost, half-present. His breathing was unnaturally steady, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within.

The longer he lingered, the more the maze sought to erode his mind and soul. It was changing him. One of them. That's what he was becoming. Less human by the minute. A cog in this cursed trial. The corruption wasn't born from the maze or its horrors. It came from within—from his own faltering heart. The urge to give in. To stop fighting. To abandon plans and forget purpose. His mind no longer resisted. He had become a vessel, functioning on instinct alone.

A boy who only knew how to obey.

And it was easier—letting go. Like casting off a heavy weight that had dragged him down. What replaced it was freedom in its rawest, purest form. A strange nostalgia washed over him, cooling his spirit and soothing his pulse. Invisible shackles broke. A faint smile tugged at his lips—peaceful, yet laced with mischief.

When you have nothing left—when every step feels like one closer to death—why struggle? Why fear?

For the first time since entering the maze, Ymir was enjoying himself.

No more worrying. No more obsessing over what lay ahead. He wasn't haunted by thoughts of lurking monstrosities or the ever-watching eye. He was indifferent to it all. The trial, its consequences, life or death—they all felt distant. He believed—no, assumed—he was already dead. His smile widened. A whisper escaped, a faint, half-dulled murmur. "Let's have some fun before the game ends."

Recklessness.

That was his answer to hours of unseen threats and mental anguish. He felt alive—perhaps more than he had in months. Maybe this tightrope between life and death suited him. He had seen death, witnessed masacares , caused it coping with adversities, and carried guilt for it. But this raw sensation—this reckless clarity—felt like an escape from the endless loop that had been his life. Less like a fall and more like flight.

A thought crept into his mind. A strange epiphany. A breakthrough.

Maybe life was the veil hiding the truth behind the covenant. And death… death was how you pierced through that veil. But did one really have to die to grow stronger? How could life itself hold someone back?

For a fleeting second, Ymir's dull eyes lit up. A puzzle piece clicked into place. A piece of something larger, whole.

A different side of him awakened. He was curious now. On the brink of death, he glimpsed meaning behind the rite of enlightenment—even if it came too late.

Acceptance offered a strange comfort.

But desire crept in, gentle but insistent. To learn more. Discover. Reach . In his eyes, this death trap no longer felt like a prison—it had become a trove of hidden truths.

His steps suddenly halted. Echoes of combat filled the air—snarls, screeches, and heavy blows.

Peering around a corner, he caught sight of the chaos.

Small, dragon-like creatures covered in obsidian scales, their bodies etched with glowing turquoise runes, battled fiercely. Their large, expressive eyes and powerful limbs gave them an ancient, regal air. They were locked in combat with—

"That damned alien freak again." Ymir's voice dropped into a low, annoyed growl. "Tearing them to pieces."

One of the obsidian beasts was down—lifeless. Blue blood stained the snow beneath its mangled body.

The rest were struggling. Slashed, wounded, barely clinging to life. The aberration meanwhile hadn't bled a drop. Black smoke hissed from its wounds. It was hollow. Empty. Not alive. How do you kill something that doesn't seem to be breathing ?

Ymir didn't know. But if anything had a shot, it was these dragonkin.

Something in him softened. He hated it. He shouldn't care. But he did. He knew the creature's weakness—it relied entirely on sound. Exploit that flaw, and it was helpless.

Why did Ymir want it dead? Pity. Disgust. The way it looked at him back then. Or maybe, because those obsidian creatures looked... innocent. Ymir felt a pang. Apparently, he had a soft spot for anything cute.

If small gremlins were like green-eyed humanoid infants, then these creatures were like pets you'd risk everything to protect. Their runes glowed like beacons, warm and inviting. Familiar.

He glanced at his hands. The runes etched there glowed faintly. Same shape. Same song. They were calling to him.

Either way, he had made up his mind.

He crouched, scooped up a fistful of snow, and shaped it into a ball. Peeking from behind the corner, he studied the battlefield. His aim was simple—distract the larger beast. Buy time.

He threw.

The snowball landed with a dull thud, close enough, pulling its attention. Seizing the opportunity, the dragons leapt. Jaws wide. Teeth glowing blue in their mouths. The alien reeled back—not in pain, but in reaction. Then frost spread. Rapid, ruthless. Ice encased its neck, side, and right hindleg. A screech echoed through the labyrinth. The vine made walls shook. Snow tumbling down.

Ymir cried out, hands clamped over bleeding ears. His eardrums nearly raptured "By the gods—my ears...!"

The sound persisted for a while. Soon enough silence returned, Ymir glanced back. What greeted him was surreal, leaving him awestruck.

Then he noticed the runes. Flickering brighter now. And they were calling again—inviting.