Mateo vs Minotaur and the Magic Within
The floor shook again not a tremor, but a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through the very soles of my worn boots, rattling the ancient, cracked stones of the dungeon.
I spun on my heel, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat echoing the seismic shifts around me, my gaze, already sharpened by hours of tense exploration, snapped to the source of the disturbance. And then I froze.
From the gaping maw of the cracked stone hallway, a towering silhouette emerged it wasn't just large, it was a mountain of muscle and malice, an unholy leviathan carved from shadow and fury.
Its colossal horns, thick as ancient tree trunks, scraped the crumbling ceiling, showering dust and grit onto the already treacherous floor.
Red eyes, like twin coals stoked in a furnace of hatred, burned through the dust-laden air, locking onto me with a chilling intensity with every thunderous step. Its hooves cracked the very stone beneath them, sending spiderwebs of fissures across the dungeon floor.
A Minotaur.
The realization slammed into me with the force of a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Twice my height, at least ten, maybe twenty, times my strength. And then, a sickening familiarity washed over me, a chill that had nothing to do with the damp dungeon air i knew that shape.
That impossible outline. That coppery, iron-rich scent of its monstrous hide, mingling with something else… something that ripped at the edges of my memory.
I staggered back, a strangled gasp caught in my throat, my body refusing to obey the desperate command to flee. The beast took another ponderous step forward, its glowing eyes unwavering. And then, it wasn't just a beast; it was a ghost.
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Flashback: 2 months and 25 days ago
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"Mateo, go hide!"
My father's voice, a whip-crack of urgency, cut through the crisp morning air. It was sharp, unyielding, unlike his usual gentle tone. I was barely seven, small for my age, and filled with a primal, childish terror I couldn't comprehend.
Weathered by countless seasons, groaned and creaked in the wind, a mournful sound that seemed to mirror the fear churning in my gut.
"Mateo, now!" he snapped, his voice edged with a desperation I'd never heard before.
I hesitated, my small legs rooted to the spot, my eyes wide with confusion and fear. Why did he sound like that? What was happening?
Then my instincts kicked in.
My legs were shaking uncontrollably beneath me. The image of his face, so stern yet so full of love, would be seared into my memory forever.
He shoved me, not unkindly, toward the old wooden shed. I stumbled inside, crouching low, trying to make myself as small as possible in the dusty shadows.
My fingers, still stained with the dirt from our morning hunt, gripped the cracked slats of the shed, my knuckles white.
I pressed my eye to a splintered hole in the wood, my breath held tight in my chest.
And I saw it.
The beast.
Its horns, long and wickedly sharp, glinted even in the dappled sunlight.
It snorted, a plume of hot air misting in the cool morning, and then let out a guttural roar that vibrated through the very ground.
The same impossible, burning red eyes. They were the color of spilled blood, and they held an intelligence that was terrifying.
My father, bless his brave, foolish heart, stepped forward. His axe, a tool he used for chopping firewood and hunting game, was clutched firmly in his hand.
Not a magic weapon, no enchanted steel or glowing runes. Just iron and the unyielding will of a man protecting his child.
They clashed.
The sound was sickening. Steel met muscle, a harsh, grating shriek that tore through the quiet morning. My father's movements, honed by years of manual labor and the occasional
necessity of defending our small homestead from wild animals, were fast, clean, and precise. The Minotaur howled, a sound of frustrated rage, but fought back harder, its immense strength a terrifying counterpoint to my father's agility.
A swing.
A dizzying dodge.
Another strike, meant to disable, to incapacitate.
But then I saw it. A glint of cruel, jagged metal. The Minotaur's blade, not an axe like its counterpart, but a crude, vicious slab of sharpened stone, edged with jagged teeth.
It plunged straight into my father's chest, a sickening squelch that made my stomach churn.
He gasped, a terrible, desperate sound that tore at my young heart.
Blood sprayed, a dark crimson fountain against the faded wood of the shed, against the green of the grass.
I nearly screamed, a primal sound of terror building in my throat, but my father's words echoed in my mind: "Stay quiet. Don't move until it's over."
He looked up, his eyes, now glazed with pain, found the small hole in the shed. Toward me.
And smiled. A weak, bloody smile, filled with a love that transcended the agony, a love that was a final, desperate assurance.
Then he fell. A heavy, lifeless thud against the dirt.
The Minotaur roared in triumph, a guttural sound of victory that clawed at my sanity.
But it was wounded.
Deeply.
Its massive flank was torn open, black blood oozing onto the grass, and its roars turned to gurgles of pain.
After a few more labored breaths, it too collapsed, its enormous body hitting the ground with a shuddering impact, dying from the injuries my father, with nothing but iron and courage, had inflicted.
Both of them lay there. Still. Two giants, brought low by a desperate struggle.
I didn't move for hours. Not until the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, did I finally crawl out from behind the shed, my small body trembling, my heart a raw, bleeding wound.
- - - -
Present
- - - -
The same red eyes.
The same beast.
The air in the dungeon crackled with the resurrected horror of that memory. My feet tried to move, to flee, to escape, but my body was stone, locked in a paralysis of terror. I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't even blink.
It lifted its axe, a weapon even larger and more menacing than I remembered, or perhaps my fear simply magnified it. The enormous blade caught the faint light filtering from the dungeon crystals, glinting with a deadly promise.
And then, instinct, raw and unthinking, finally took over.
I dove. A clumsy, desperate lunge, fueled by a primordial need for survival.
The weapon slammed down where I stood a heartbeat ago, sending shockwaves and radiating cracks through the Dungeon floor, the impact echoing like a thunderclap.
I rolled, the rough stone scraping against my armor, and scrambled up, my breath ragged. My eyes darted around the oppressive confines of the hallway.
I had no sword. No weapon of war, no enchanted blade to meet this titan.
Just a knife.
My gathering knife, the one I used to pry shimmering magic crystals from the pulsing cores of defeated monsters. It was small, sharp enough for delicate work, but utterly, ridiculously useless against a creature of this scale.
Against this beast, it was no more than a toothpick. But it was metal. And in this moment, that was something.
The Minotaur roared, a deep, earth-shaking sound that vibrated through my bones, and charged. Its hooves hammered against the stone, shaking the very foundations of the dungeon.
I sidestepped. Barely. The wind of its passing ruffled my hair.
But its massive elbow clipped my side. Pain blossomed, a searing agony that shot through my ribs, stealing my breath.
I fell hard, skidding across the rough floor, my armor screeching in protest.
I gritted my teeth, tasting blood, the metallic tang a sharp counterpoint to the coppery scent of the Minotaur.
Got up.
Ran. Blindly, desperately, propelled by the memory of my father's blood, by the raw fear that threatened to overwhelm me.
It roared again, a sound of frustrated rage, and chased. Each of its monstrous steps thundered behind me, a relentless drumbeat of impending doom.
The walls of the dungeon seemed to close in, the air growing thick with dust and the oppressive aura of the beast.
I reached the edge of a stone platform. A dead end. No way out. No stairs leading down, just broken walls and high shelves, too high to scale.
The air hung stagnant here, thick with the scent of ancient dust and the monster's predatory musk.
Trapped. Like a cornered rat.
I turned my back to the cold, unforgiving stone, my small knife gripped tightly in my trembling hand.
It charged again, axe raised high, its red eyes blazing with an almost joyful malice. This was it. The end.
I ducked beneath the descending axe, a desperate lunge that put strain on my already aching muscles, and, with a last, futile burst of defiance, slashed with my knife.
The blade scraped its hide like paper against steel, a pathetic, almost comical sound.
Nothing. Not even a scratch. The beast seemed to scoff at my futile attempt, its roar deepening with contempt.
I backed away, stumbling, my legs trembling violently. My fingers ached from the desperate grip on the useless knife. My lungs burned, starved for air.
"Come on…" I whispered, my voice raw, a desperate plea to whatever forgotten magic might still reside in this accursed place. "Come on, do something…"
The Minotaur paused, its colossal form filling the cramped space, its axe poised for the final, finishing blow. Its red eyes, full of triumph, bore into mine.
And then, just as the axe began its descent, something extraordinary happened.
Lightning.
A blinding flash, so sudden and brilliant it seared my retinas even through my eyelids. A crack in the air, sharp and resonant, like a whip lashing through the very fabric of reality.
Blue light, vibrant and alive, danced across the dungeon floor, arcing from the countless raw, pulsating Dungeon crystals embedded in the walls. They shimmered, pulsed, and hummed with a renewed, furious energy.
The knife in my hand sparked. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor at first, then a growing hum.
Metal.
The electricity surged through it, a jolt that nearly made me drop the blade. Then, in an instant, through me.
My body arched, a conduit for the raw, untamed power of the dungeon itself.
Pain. Excruciating, burning pain that shot through every nerve ending, every muscle fiber.
And then, something else. Power. A surge of exhilarating, terrifying energy that flooded my veins. My hair lifted, crackling with static electricity. My skin glowed with a faint, ethereal blue light, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
The Minotaur paused, its axe held mid-air, its red eyes flickering with confusion, its monstrous roar dying in its throat. It sensed the shift, the sudden, impossible influx of power.
I gripped the knife with both hands, my entire body a conduit for the surging energy, and screamed. Not a scream of fear, but a howl of primal fury, of unyielding rage, of desperate, defiant power.
"RRRAAAHHH!"
The lightning gathered at the tip of the knife, a furious, swirling ball of pure energy, and then spread over me, engulfing me in a crackling blue aura.
My body became the conduit.
My rage. The fuel. The memory of my father, his last brave smile, ignited a fire within me, a burning desire for vengeance that dwarfed the fear.
I rushed. Not a desperate scramble, but a deliberate, focused charge, every ounce of my transformed strength propelling me forward.
The Minotaur, recovering from its momentary confusion, swung its axe, a wide, sweeping arc meant to cleave me in two.
I slid beneath it, my armor sparking and whining as the raw magical energy arced from its surface, barely avoiding the deadly blade.
And then, with all the accumulated power of my grief, my rage, and the dungeon's unleashed fury, I stabbed the knife into its gut.
At first, nothing. Just the dull thud of metal against dense hide. My heart sank, a fleeting moment of despair.
Then the lightning surged. Not a mere spark, but a torrent, a flood of pure electrical energy, pouring from the knife.
Into the beast.
It jerked. Twitched. Roared, a sound of sheer agony and disbelief, its massive body convulsing.
Smoke poured from its nostrils, thick and acrid, smelling of burnt flesh.
Steam hissed from its back, as if its very blood was boiling.
Its enormous arms flailed wildly, its mouth foaming, red eyes wide with a terror it had never known. The dungeon's raw power, channeled through me, was tearing it apart from the inside out.
The lightning didn't stop. It flooded every inch of the Minotaur's massive body, burning it from the inside out, consuming its monstrous vitality.
Its red eyes flickered, the fiery glow dimming, then sparking erratically.
It dropped the axe, the heavy weapon clattering against the stone with a sickening thud.
Then, with a final, shuddering gasp that seemed to shake the very dungeon, it fell to its knees, its colossal form collapsing.
One last spark, a tiny, defiant flicker from its dying eyes.
Then silence.
The body smoldered, a grotesque monument to its own demise, cooked from within by the unleashed lightning. The air, thick with the scent of ozone and burnt hair, slowly began to clear.
I stood there, breath ragged, my skin smoking faintly, the blue light fading from my body. The knife, my humble gathering knife, was melted in my hand, a twisted, blackened lump of metal. It had given its all, just as I had.
I looked up. The dungeon was quiet. Eerily, terribly quiet. The humming of the crystals had subsided, the blue light faded back to a dull shimmer.
Too quiet. The battle was over, but the silence felt like a heavy shroud.
I turned and left, each step an effort.
My legs were weak, trembling with residual power and exhaustion. My body was sore, a symphony of aches and pains, but I walked. One foot in front of the other. Up the stairs, past the echoing halls of blood and stone, out into the glorious, blinding light of the surface.
Freedom.
Air. Sweet, clean, untainted air. I gulped it in, filling my lungs with the scent of green growing things, of life.
I stepped onto the surface, blinking against the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun. I looked up, saw the familiar blue sky, the drifting clouds. It felt like I had spent a lifetime in that dark labyrinth, but the sun was still high.
Only two minutes had passed since I entered the dungeon. Two minutes that had stretched into an eternity.
Then I saw him.
A boy. No older than me, perhaps a year or two younger.
Covered in blood.
Running.
Eyes wide.
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You know it's about to happen. The main character has appeared. yall already know I'm going to do it in the comments, so the people know what I'm going to do to be hard. but I'll make it happen hopefully
y'all have a nice day or night love you all