A Scene To Die For

The group huddled at the base of the towering rock wall, their faces etched with exhaustion after the arduous climb to the summit. 

As they finally descended onto the open expanse at the mountaintop, a mix of annoyance and grief clouded their expressions, stemming from the recent loss of the crippled man. The bulky man, in particular, seemed burdened by guilt, venting his frustration by pounding the ground beneath him.

Wary of the muscular man inadvertently causing the floor to give way, Crim stepped forward eager to stop the floor from cracking.

  He patted the distraught man's head to offer some comfort and then directed the group towards the next part of their journey. 

Their path led to a small clearing nestled inside the mountain, but they faced a new obstacle - a rickety palisade, worn by time and unstable, dribbling stones and moss.

The mother and her child found this challenge particularly daunting. 

Both already fatigued from the journey, the young girl was also battling her fear of heights. She hesitated, gingerly getting over her fear as she tapped her foot on the rocks. 

Crim couldn't help but grimace, a stark reminder of his own limitations. If only he could use his magic, even a tiny spark or a brief boost of power, he could have conjured a bridge in mere seconds to ease their passage. However, the domain's rules forbade any magical intervention.

Adding to their troubles, the ever-present threat of the colossal giants loomed.

  Even the slightest movement from one of the giants on the rocky path could spell disaster, leading them into the abyss, a fiery end in the embrace of a monstrous, blind titan. Crim contemplated the strange circumstances and wondered how he might explain such an unusual death in the afterlife.

  Succumbing to a towering, fiery illusion created by a man with horns in the hands of a burning giant Breaking a bridge in the said illusion was a most perplexing fate to ponder.

Crim had been stood tired, laying his back on a nearby bush-sized boulder, the hero kid had been hanging onto his mom's back for the entire time, and the other just laid exhausted, the only one who had been full of energy had been the overly excited woodcarver.

*** 

In the dire moment of their rest:

The young man leaned against the unyielding surface, studying his iron sword with a scrutinizing gaze. A creeping unease had begun to take root in his mind, as he contemplated the very real possibility of meeting his end in this unforgiving domain, much like a fragile and powerless soul. His surroundings offered no aid, and he was acutely aware that his survival hinged solely on his own abilities.

Summoning his resolve, Crim rose to his feet, his steely gray eyes scanning his immediate surroundings as he advanced with resolute and resonant strides toward the formidable palisade. His impassive expression puzzled the onlookers who had been observing the knights' movements.

"Now or never," Crim thought, his heart racing.

With calculated precision, he turned his feet sideways and began navigating the treacherous path to the other side, each step causing the ground beneath him to shift and squirm. Every eye remained fixed on him in a mixture of awe and trepidation, as the end of the perilous journey drew closer with each step. Crim's hazel eyes blazed with determination, his brow furrowing with intense focus.

In that precarious moment, there was but one thought that consumed his fragile mind: survival.

  It was akin to an instinctual impulse that compels one to seek rest when fatigued or nourishment when hungry, a primal drive urging him to endure. He likened his own determination to that of a mating season for a rabbit, that same fervor to continue one's lineage, but in this context, it was a battle for survival in the heart of this nightmarish ordeal.

Soon, the woodcarver followed suit, advancing cautiously and utilizing his knife as a stabilizer to mitigate the risk of striking a precarious rock and triggering a cascade of catastrophe.

As the two of them reached the halfway point, the remaining members of the group summoned their courage and inched forward, fearful of being left behind in this dire situation. The children clung desperately to the Brutes and Mothers, their wide-eyed faces reflecting their terror, while the adults struggled to find words of reassurance amidst their own mounting fear.

Meanwhile, the Knight's fear had dissipated.

Crim's eyes widened in awe as he gazed upon the breathtaking panorama that stretched out before him. Far from the anticipated horror, his senses were filled with an overwhelming sense of beauty.

"…" He stopped.

Clinging to the rocky edge, the young man marveled at the picturesque landscape that unfolded like a priceless masterpiece, a sight so exquisite that no modern earthly wealth could ever hope to match its allure.

A gossamer mist cloaked the towering trees, lending an air of enchantment to the already wondrous scene. Lush bushes and verdant leaves danced on the canvas of the aqua-blue sky, their vibrant colors blending harmoniously with the backdrop of nature's grandeur. The once gloomy and ominous calls of crows were replaced by a symphony of birds of various species, filling the woods with their melodious chirps.

The puffy clouds kissed the tips of the majestic trees, their branches cascading down like the tendrils of a botanical waterfall swaying gently in the breeze. The air was imbued with a soothing freshness, offering a reprieve from the trials of their ascent.

Overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all, the young boy could only sum up his feelings in one word: Paradise.

His eyes had achieved a new sense of enlightenment as its burn of hazel sizzled out back to his usual gray and void eyes, the road had ended and he stepped his malicious foot on the rocky clearing that had a path downwards.

Sitting and watching the view as he waited for the others, and growing sense of hate brewed. And this time he couldn't curse his way out of that weird tingle.

He felt extremely tired.

At times, Crim displayed a peculiar transformation, and this moment was one such instance. He gazed down at his hands, bewildered, attempting to recollect the blurred memories of the past few days.

This place was far from ordinary; it felt as if it was draining his mana, leaving him on the brink of cognitive collapse before he could complete the trial. This was the only logical explanation Crim could come up with, as his memories grew increasingly elusive, exacerbated by his mana depletion. The absence of magical energy within the domain further reinforced his theory.

The Stakes had been raised, and the time limit started closing in.