Chapter 12: The Fierce Battle

At that moment, I unexpectedly calmed down. I quickly considered my options—clearly, neither the path ahead nor behind was worth trying. Time was running out; the walls on either side were closing in faster now, so much so that I could only move sideways. Glancing upward, I saw no ceiling in sight. I immediately began to climb, keeping my body balanced as I pressed against the narrowing walls. The pressure actually helped me gain purchase, and in no time, I’d scaled several meters. But when the gap shrank to the point where I could barely breathe, I realized just how high I’d gone. Was I truly about to be crushed to death here?

Unwilling to accept such a fate, I forced myself to keep climbing until the walls pressed so tightly against me that I couldn’t even move my arms. My chest felt as if it might collapse under the mounting pressure. I desperately wanted to shrug off my backpack, but in that suffocating space, I was utterly unable to move.

It struck me as a truly pitiful way to die—squeezed into oblivion, left nothing but a flattened lump of flesh. Just then, I suddenly felt something yank at my foot. With so little room to move, I couldn’t see what it was, but the force was tremendous—it pulled me downward, sliding me back a short distance.

My heart pounded with terror and confusion as that unseen force dragged me down. The walls were closing tighter and tighter, but as I was pulled further, I felt a strange sense of release. Was this how it would end?

I could barely breathe now; every organ felt compressed, my bones protesting under the strain. But suddenly, my legs were free of the crushing pressure. I realized I was being dragged into a hole—could there really be an exit here?

With that hope, I let the force pull me downward. Soon, most of my body had slipped into the opening, and just as the walls above sealed shut, I was entirely inside.

It was only then that I wondered why I hadn’t noticed this hole before. Maybe I’d been too panicked to see it. I barely had time to feel relief at my escape before another thought struck me—what exactly had dragged me in?

A hot breath washed over my back. I whipped around in alarm, and what I saw nearly made my heart stop. Some kind of creature loomed before me. It resembled a gorilla, but was even larger, its body covered in coarse brown hair. Drool hung from its slightly parted lips as it stared at me. That hot breath—I realized—must have been its saliva.

Now, with my flashlight shining on it, the beast lowered its head and let out a guttural sound. It looked for all the world like a giant ape. I’d seen illustrations in books of similar creatures—great apes, perhaps. But what was one doing here? Or was this something else entirely, a species I’d never heard of?

I certainly didn’t believe it had pulled me in to save me. The way it eyed me, I was clearly dinner in its mind. As it grew accustomed to the flashlight, its eyes met mine, and it slowly raised its massive hands, preparing to attack.

Oddly, I felt no fear. After all the suffocating pressure I’d just endured, I was practically ready to explode. Facing this monster was almost a welcome chance to vent my frustration. But I didn’t know what it was capable of, so I held back from attacking first.

I drew my black-gold dagger and held it before me. My pistol wasn’t suited for close quarters; if I failed to kill it in one shot, I’d only make things worse.

As soon as I braced myself, the beast lunged. The cramped space left me no room to dodge. I bent my body forward at a sharp angle, avoiding its claws, then kicked off with both legs, sliding past it. My dagger sliced along its chest, but its hide was thick—the wound was shallow.

I slid beneath its legs and came up behind it. Before it could react, I kicked it hard into the wall. By now, the wall had closed behind us, leaving only the hole as an exit. The beast whirled, eyes blazing red with fury. I set my flashlight on the ground to keep the space well lit.

Blood trickled from the gash on its chest. Not deep, but enough to enrage it. With a wild roar, it charged again. I knew better than to take it head-on. I was human, it was a beast; I couldn’t afford to overestimate my strength.

Sidestepping, I slashed at its left arm, driving the blade deep. My left fist smashed into its face, and my knee drove into its chest. As it staggered back, I twisted the dagger in a cross pattern, shredding its right arm—likely severing an artery.

I understood one thing: in a place like this, faced with a monster that saw me as food, mercy was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I prided myself on being rational and ruthless when necessary. While it reeled from its wounds, I pressed the attack, using its own momentum to throw it off balance. My dagger stabbed three times into its chest, then I spun and kicked it hard.

Its vitality was astounding. Even after losing so much blood, it huddled against the wall, gasping for breath—finished, but not yet dead.

Only then did I notice a corpse nearby, torn to pieces—little remained but bones. Clearly the beast’s handiwork. When I looked closer, a shock ran through me. The tattered remains of modern clothing hung from the body, and something seemed familiar about it. Then I remembered—the style matched the man I’d glimpsed in the passageway. Were they companions? But hadn’t his journal said he was the last survivor?

My mind spun. I hurried to examine the body. It had been there a long time, now mostly bones. If I’d seen the carnage fresh, I might have been sick.

As I searched through the scattered belongings, I felt a sudden chill behind me—the beast, somehow still able to resist, was making one last attack. Instinctively, I sprang up, legs bracing on either side of its shoulders. In a twisting motion, I locked its head between my thighs and wrenched hard. Its neck snapped with a sickening crack, spinning 360 degrees. It slumped, dead at last.

All this happened in a flash. I slid off its back and surveyed the scene. The dead man was almost certainly the companion of the man I’d read about. He must have suffered the same fate, but had been torn apart before he could kill the beast.

Finding nothing else of use, and no other clues, I set aside thoughts of these unfortunate souls. They were all dead now. Whatever had brought them here a year ago was no longer my concern.

Moving forward through the tunnel, I found the passage growing wider and wider. Was this, perhaps, man-made? The thought troubled me.

It occurred to me then—could the feeling of being watched since I entered have come from that creature? Clearly, this place was more complicated than I’d hoped. I would have to be careful.

Not much farther on, the tunnel ended at a sheer drop. Peering over the edge, I saw a vast structure below—an altar of some sort, carved into the heart of the mountain. The sight was awe-inspiring. The entire mountain had been hollowed out to create this enormous chamber, dominated by the altar. From above, it formed a perfect geometric pattern, with broad steps on all four sides. To my amazement, pinpricks of starlight filtered down from above. When I focused my wolf-eyed flashlight to its narrowest beam, I realized those “stars” were actually thin shafts of light—tiny holes drilled through the rock, allowing daylight to seep in.

The silence here was profound, almost suffocating. I guessed this was the resting place of the ancient King of Li. That altar below must be his tomb. From above, the altar’s size was staggering. I would have to explore it further—a solution to the curse was likely hidden here.

Deep down, a question gnawed at me. For countless generations, why had none of the tribes sought the secret of the curse? Was it fear? That seemed unlikely. For the dying, fear should mean little—at least, that was how I felt.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. With only a few years left to live, what did I have to fear?

The drop to the altar was high, but not impossible. The rough, uneven walls would be perfect for climbing. I had a coil of nylon rope in my backpack—just what I needed for safety.

I fastened one end of the rope to a protruding stone and tied the other securely around my waist. It wasn’t professional climbing gear, but it would have to do.