Crisis

The camp was quiet, with the only sounds coming from the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of the jungle. The rest of the group had settled in for the night, but David remained awake, sitting across from Marcus as the Grandmaster spoke in low, measured tones.

David had been absorbing everything Marcus shared, like a sponge soaking up water. The wisdom and experience Marcus conveyed were invaluable, and David could feel himself being drawn into the older man's orbit, trusting him more with each passing minute.

"You're a quick learner," Marcus remarked, his tone approving. "But there's still much you don't understand about this island, about the forces at play."

David nodded, eager to learn more. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect my friends and survive here."

"That's the right attitude," Marcus replied. "But you need to rest. You and your teammates will need all the stamina you can muster tomorrow. The Red Temple is far away, and the journey won't be easy."

David hesitated, glancing toward the tents where his friends slept. "I can stay up longer. Just to make sure—"

"No," Marcus interrupted gently but firmly. "Go to sleep, David. I've placed a barrier around the camp, one of the Red Temple's secret spells. It will last until morning and can stop any high-level magic for two minutes. It's not omnipotent, but with me here, it's more than enough."

Marcus gestured to the red line that encircled the camp. It glowed faintly in the darkness, a symbol of protection that held back the dangers lurking in the jungle.

David looked at the barrier with a mix of amazement and admiration. The power Marcus wielded was beyond anything he had ever seen, and it filled him with a strange sense of both security and awe.

"Go rest," Marcus repeated, his voice softer now. "You'll need your strength."

David nodded, finally standing up, though he still felt a nagging sense of responsibility. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I'll see you in the morning."

But just as David was about to turn away, a loud, piercing cry shattered the stillness of the night.

Both David and Marcus froze, the moment of peace obliterated in an instant. Without a word, they sprinted toward the source of the cry—the sleeping area where their tents were.

As they approached, the scene that greeted them was one of horror. Mark was lying on the ground, a black sword—a cursed weapon of the Black Temple—protruding from his back. His eyes were open, but lifeless, his HP bar drained to zero. Nearby, Mike and Emily were unconscious, their bodies motionless.

And then there was Lisa. She stood over Sarah, her eyes completely black, a dark aura swirling around her as she held the cursed weapon against Sarah's neck. Sarah, bleeding from a wound on her abdomen, looked up at David with pain and confusion in her eyes.

Lisa's face was twisted into a wild, feral expression, unlike anything David had ever seen before. It was as if the Lisa he knew was gone, replaced by something dark and monstrous.

David's heart plummeted, disbelief and anguish overwhelming him. "What have you done, Lisa? Why?"

His voice cracked with the weight of the betrayal, the pain of losing two friends in an instant—one to death, the other to darkness.

As soon as Lisa saw Marcus and heard David's anguished words, she sneered with a fury that seemed to consume her. "You!" she spat, her voice filled with venom. She viciously kicked Mark's dead body, her eyes wild and unrecognizable. "And this bastard!" she continued, her voice trembling with rage. "Both of you could have saved James. It's all your fault that he's dead!"

David's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Lisa he knew, the one who had fought alongside them, was gone. In her place was someone consumed by hatred and darkness. Her words cut deep, reopening the wound of James's death—a wound that had never truly healed.

"If I could have saved James, I would have done anything!" David's voice trembled with pain and disbelief. He had given everything in that fight. The idea that he had somehow failed, that he could have done more, was a dagger to his soul.

Marcus placed a firm hand on David's shoulder, grounding him. "Don't listen to her," Marcus said, his voice steady but urgent. "She's under control. Worse, she's already sold her soul to the Black Temple. This isn't Lisa speaking—it's the influence of a high-level master, or even a grandmaster, from the Black Temple nearby!"

But David barely registered Marcus's words. His mind was singularly focused on the scene before him—Lisa, her eyes devoid of the warmth he once knew, holding a blade to Sarah's throat. Sarah's life hung in the balance, and in that moment, David's world narrowed to a single, terrible truth: he had to save her, no matter the cost.

"Lisa, please…" David's voice was barely a whisper, pleading with whatever part of his friend might still remain. But Lisa's expression didn't soften. If anything, her grip on the cursed weapon tightened, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and madness.

"James is gone because of you," she hissed, her voice cold and unwavering. "Now you'll know what it feels like to lose someone you care about."

Before David could react, Marcus moved, his instincts as a Grandmaster taking over. He knew the situation was spiraling out of control, and there was no time for hesitation. But just as he began to channel his power, the air around them grew heavy with a dark, oppressive force—Namaah's presence closing in.

David could feel the weight of that darkness, the creeping sense of dread that accompanied it. But all he could see, all he could focus on, was the knife in Lisa's hand, poised to end Sarah's life.