Level Up The Colony
Chapter 60: Bride

Chapter 60: Bride

Something inside Timothy had been tearing at him, two instincts colliding.

One begged for rest.

The other screamed to kill.

Now, silence filled the corridor.

The last echoes of chaos had faded.

Then, the statues began to reform.

Piece by piece, they knit themselves back together right before the group’s eyes.

Timothy collapsed completely, unconscious.

The black tint on his arms faded, leaving only his nails darkened.

Gray scuttled protectively in front of him, twitching its antennae with alert awareness.

The leader didn’t hesitate.

He sheathed his blade, raised his shield, and dragged Timothy’s limp body toward the next doorway.

The rest of the group followed, crossing through the massive double doors and leaving the nightmare behind them.

What greeted them was... a staircase.

A massive spiral staircase that descended four, maybe five floors down into darkness.

There was no visible light, just faintly glowing mana crystals clinging to the walls, casting a cold, serene blue that brightened slightly the further they went.

"Now I get it," the wind mage muttered.

"Why he didn’t use that ability earlier."

"And why no one’s survived this raid so far," the leader added, eyeing the endless spiral.

"We’ve lost ninety percent of our force. From one encounter."

"I still say they didn’t send their powerhouses," the fire mage, Felix grumbled.

"One hundred people, Felix," the leader said, tone flat.

"One hundred and ten if you count the camera operators. And we’re down to six."

"Seven," the wind mage, Okey corrected, glancing back.

Everyone turned to see Gray, the oversized termite, scuttling casually behind them.

Dried blood still stained its mandibles.

Okey reached out to touch it, curious or maybe amused but Miriam stepped in with a calm warning.

"I wouldn’t touch him if I were you."

They stared at her, then at the termite.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Okay," the leader ordered.

"Yes sir. What about the crystals?" Okey asked, nodding toward the glowing stones on the wall.

"You can take them... if you’ve got night vision," the leader shot back.

Their trek continued for another ten minutes before the spiral ended at an open doorway partially flooded.

A shallow pool stretched beyond it.

"Looks like we’ll be swimming soon," the leader muttered, cautiously stepping into the water.

No reaction.

No monsters.

Just a pool and another door ahead.

Gray immediately dove in and flailed helplessly, attempting to swim.

Miriam lifted him gently and cradled him in her arms as she followed the others inside.

"I thought you said it was dangerous," Okey whispered, wading in.

"To strangers," Miriam replied smoothly.

The deeper they went, the higher the water rose.

Soon they were floating, paddling forward to conserve energy.

Gray now perched on Miriam’s shoulder like a quiet sentinel, while the leader pulled Timothy along on the surface of his broad shield.

Below them, light glowed from beneath the water, casting luminous, rippling reflections across the walls.

The space around them widened into a massive submerged cathedral.

Half-sunken... the other half shrouded in high mist.

Towering arches and marble columns stood half-drowned in silence.

Then, from above, something drifted downward.

Red flowers.

Bouquets of roses, all of them crimson, fell silently through the mist.

A gentle, steady rain of red petals and blossoms.

No one spoke.

No one dared move.

The mood shifted instantly from calm to dread.

The water rippled.

From below, shapes emerged.

Brides.

Ghostly, translucent figures in soaked wedding gowns began rising from the depths.

Dozens of them.

Some were humanoid, others clearly monstrous serpentine forms with horns and tails, aquatic features, and inhuman grace.

All were faceless beneath translucent veils.

They wept soundlessly as they floated, passing effortlessly through columns and submerged pews.

The leader slowly raised a finger to his lips.

Silence.

They didn’t seem to perceive the group.

Or maybe... they chose not to.

As the spectral brides began drifting toward a massive door at the far end of the cathedral, the group fell in behind them, moving slowly and carefully.

One by one, they followed the procession.

Paddling.

Gliding.

At last, the group reached the door, lifting one another over the threshold.

As the last member passed through, the door slammed shut behind them.

A collective exhale of Relief.

The hallway ahead was narrow again, lit faintly by more mana crystals.

After a few quiet minutes, the last of the ghost brides passed ahead and disappeared through a solid wall.

"Want me to blow the wall down?" Felix asked.

"No, dumbass. You’d kill us all," the leader hissed.

He moved to the wall and tapped along the edges, pressing an ear against the surface.

A nod.

"It’s hollow. There’s space behind it."

He was just about to strike when they heard the movement of footsteps from the other side.

Whispered voices.

Then bam!

A fist punched through the wall from the other side.

Another strike.

Then another.

The wall cracked and crumbled inward until it gave way.

And from the rubble emerged... a fellow hunter.

Alive. Disheveled.

And just as surprised to see them as they were to see him.

"Oh? Leader, it’s survivors," the man said, stepping aside as someone walked up behind him.

A tall woman with dark hair emerged, sharp eyes sweeping over the battered group before landing on Timothy’s unconscious form and the massive termite at his side.

"I didn’t think there was another passage," she said.

"Which route did you take?"

Instead of answering, Timothy’s raid leader shoved the arrogant young scout forward, then stepped past him to face the woman directly.

His eyes scanned the open space, the other gathered hunters, and the ominous silence.

"We were the fifth team to enter."

"Then take your place," the woman replied coolly.

"We were the first to arrive. Don’t make any sudden moves."

She turned and walked back toward her team, leaving the leader to digest the quiet revelation.

His frown deepened.

Behind her stood a full squad unharmed, fully geared, and eerily composed.

But they weren’t alone.

Two other teams were scattered around the grand, temple-like space.

One was reduced to just a single man, their cameraman who sat on the ground with hollow eyes, visibly shaken.

Another team remained intact if only barely, made up of three people: two men and a woman who, by her attire, was likely a healer, her robe adorned in green.

Miriam, Felix, Okey, and the cameraman emerged from the passage next, Timothy still unconscious and draped over the leader’s shield.

The scarf barely hung on his wrist, and Gray crawled close by his side.

But no one moved an inch.

All eyes were fixed on the spectacle before them, an altar of dread and splendor.

Ghostly brides knelt in prayer-like positions, whispering silently, their veiled heads bowed in eerie synchronicity.

The room was silent, oppressive.

The sound of breath seemed sacrilegious.

Before the ghostly congregation stood their object of worship: a woman pale, blindfolded in blood-stained red silk, dressed in a tattered wedding gown.

She sat upon a throne of obsidian stone, impaled clean through the chest by a thick, shadow-wreathed spear that had fused with the throne over time.

Behind her, wealth beyond measure: mounds of gold, jewels, and relics shimmered in the faint light like wedding offerings to a forgotten goddess.

"What route did you take?" the woman from the full squad asked, glancing back at Timothy’s leader.

He cleared his throat, his voice low and measured.

"A long hall lined with statues. They moved when unobserved. There were creatures... sirens, I think petrifying, blind, and fast. We lost more than half of our people in the first ten minutes."

The room fell into silence as he continued.

"Then we found a spiraling stairwell that led down to what looked like a cathedral submerged in water. We had to swim. Eventually, we encountered the ghost brides... followed them through a sealed door. That led us here."

Felix stepped forward, eyes sweeping the room.

"This place... it’s like a sunken amphitheater," he said thoughtfully.

"Bridges of crystal, a dais in the center, relics everywhere like wedding gifts. Gold, pearls... All too staged. It’s like a tomb"

The tension thickened.

"Let’s just hope it’s isn’t ours"

"So what are we waiting for?" the traumatized cameraman snapped.

"Those things ghosts... brides whatever they are, they’re undead. Infinite. Eventually, they’ll come for us."

"That’s assuming we’re not already surrounded," the healer from the smaller team said.

"Question is... where’s the exit?"

Everyone’s gaze returned to the blindfolded bride.

Still as a corpse.

Pinned, regal, And silent.

"She’s the boss," someone muttered.

"She has to be. So... who’s brave enough to ask her where the door is?"

Timothy’s leader turned to the full team’s woman again. "How’d you get here?"

"None of your business," the arrogant youth replied.

She raised a hand, silencing him without a word.

They were calm.

Too calm.

That alone said volumes.

"You didn’t fight your way here," the leader stated, more than asked.

"We didn’t," she replied, offering no further explanation.

That confirmed it, there was a safe route.

Perhaps they’d uncovered something the rest hadn’t.

Valuable intel, the kind you sell to guilds or the government.

He noticed the official guild insignias on their jackets.

They weren’t freelancers like him.

They were professionals and that meant they had secrets.

Suddenly, the floor trembled.

A low quake rippled through the room.

And just like that, the ghost brides vanished in wisps of mist and silence.

From the far end of the temple, a crash exploded through one of the walls.

Dust and debris scattered as a man stepped through, bloodied but alive and quite healthy looking. Obviously, the blood wasn’t his.

A camera was strapped to his head, and in his hand, he held a long, ornate spear.

He looked every bit the knight, armored, confident, and unbothered by the blood dripping from his chin.

Everyone turned to him.

And then, golden letters began etching themselves into the stone wall behind the impaled bride, glowing faintly for all to see.