The God's Deceit - The Web Begins

As I stepped into the third chamber, I was struck by the sheer size of the space. My breath caught as I took in the vast, open room before me. At the center stood a massive vertical slab of rock, towering like a monolith. The walls around it were lined with protrusions—ledges and handholds jutting out like an invitation to climb. The rough stone seemed to absorb the dim light, making the space feel even more cavernous. The air was cool and still, thick with the scent of damp earth.

I realized then that this may be the final challenge of this test. It wasn't just about finding a path—it was about making the climb. The scattered entrances around the chamber's upper walls seemed to confirm my suspicion. They weren't paths to choose from, but rather where anyone who had solved their version of the second test would end up. We were all meant to converge here, facing this daunting wall. I could only imagine how many people died here as they faced off with each other for the prize awaiting them at the end. Did friend betray friend, were persons made to fall from up high. I looked around again and was thankful that I was the only one here.

My eyes traced the ledges, imagining the journey upward. Each handhold seemed strategically placed, some closer together, others far apart, mocking me, daring me to ascend. The weight of what lay ahead settled in my chest like a stone. This wasn't just a physical test—it was a test of my will, my endurance, and my resolve. I had to reach the top, but at what cost?

Fear began to creep in, but it wasn't the same fear I had felt at the beginning. Back then, I feared the unknown, the lurking shadows. Now, it was different. Now, I knew exactly what lay ahead, and the climb was as steep as my doubts. The thought of falling loomed over me like a dark cloud, but I knew I had no choice.

As I stood there, staring at the rock face, I felt something else growing within me—determination. Even so, the climb before me seemed impossible. Each ledge, each handhold appeared deliberate in its placement, like the entire wall had been designed to test not just my strength, but my patience. There was a mockery in the layout, as if daring me to quit before I even started. My eyes flicked across the rock face, searching for some pattern, some route that might offer an easier ascent, but there was none. The wall was a blank, unforgiving canvas, one that demanded everything I had.

The weight of that realization settled heavily on my chest, almost crushing. This wasn't just about climbing a wall—it was about facing every fear, every doubt I had carried with me since the beginning. And that weight threatened to pull me down before I even began.

I had come this far, faced so many challenges already, and each one had changed me in ways I hadn't even noticed until now. I wasn't the same person I was when I started this journey. I wasn't scared anymore. I was ready.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight in my chest lighten slightly. The tightness in my throat eased as I focused on the first ledge, just within reach. My hands felt clammy, but I forced myself to grip the handhold and pull myself up. The rough surface bit into my palms, sharp and unrelenting, but I welcomed the pain. It reminded me I was alive—that I could do this. I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was fighting back, step by step, hold by hold.

At first, determination fueled me. The fear blended into resolve, pushing me higher. But as the minutes passed, that resolve began to waver. What had started as a fierce flame was now barely flickering. After twenty minutes, my muscles screamed in protest with every pull, my fingers raw and burning from gripping the jagged rock. The higher I went, the more I found myself desperately searching for the top, but all I saw was more stone stretching endlessly into the darkness.

I had told myself I wouldn't give up, that I was stronger than this. But now? Now, all I wanted was for it to be over. My body was begging me to stop, to rest, but the relentless rock face offered no mercy. I glanced down, and my stomach lurched. The abyss below yawned open, waiting for me to fall. The realization that there was no going back hit me like a wave of cold air. If I let go now, I wouldn't survive.

Whenever I found a small ledge to rest on, I collapsed against the stone, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My muscles throbbed, my hands trembling, barely able to hold on. But I couldn't stay long. The wind was growing stronger with every meter I climbed, howling around me like a living thing, trying to tear me away from the wall. I pressed my forehead against the cold rock, trying to gather the strength to continue. One wrong move, and the wind could send me plummeting into the abyss.

There was no room for pride anymore, no place for the confidence I'd once felt. All that mattered now was survival—finding the strength to keep going, inch by inch. My body was failing me. The burning in my arms spread down to my legs, my fingers numb and unresponsive. My feet slipped against the rough stone more than once, but I managed to keep climbing. Still, the fear gnawed at me, and the higher I got, the more it took over.

But something deeper, something primal, refused to let go. It wasn't determination anymore. It was survival.

The wind battered me from all sides now, threatening to peel me off the wall. Each movement felt like it required every ounce of strength I had left. My fingers were numb, my muscles quivering, but I forced myself onward. I cursed under my breath, kissing my teeth in frustration as I pulled myself up, only to be met with more rock, more climbing, more pain.

Then, it happened.

I reached for the next ledge, but my fingers, weak and trembling, slipped. My heart lurched as I felt my grip fail. Panic shot through me, adrenaline flooding my veins as I flailed, desperate to catch myself. My other hand shot out, but it missed the ledge by a fraction of an inch.

And in that terrifying instant, I fell.

The sensation hit me like a punch to the gut, my stomach flipping as I dropped. Air rushed past me, the wind screaming in my ears. I flailed, my mind racing, searching for anything—anything—to save me.

My fingers brushed against cold stone, and by some miracle, I caught a ledge. My grip locked onto it with a strength I didn't know I had left. I hung there, frozen in place, my heart pounding in my throat. I didn't dare move. I didn't even dare breathe. One slip, and I'd be gone.

The wind howled, but all I could focus on was the ledge beneath my fingers. I didn't look down. I couldn't. My legs trembled, my arms quaked from the strain, but I held on, refusing to let go. The reality of what had just happened slowly sank in—I had nearly fallen.

I was alive. But I was spent. Completely spent.

For a long moment, I couldn't do anything but cling to that ledge, gasping for breath, too terrified to move. But I couldn't stop here. I couldn't let this be the end. I hadn't come this far to fail now. With everything I had, I forced the panic down, swallowing the fear and exhaustion. I had to keep going.

I gathered my strength and started to climb again.

The wind was relentless, battering me from all sides, trying to tear me away from the rock. But I pushed against it, forcing myself upward, inch by agonizing inch. My fingers, raw and trembling, barely held on. Every muscle screamed for me to stop, to give in. But I couldn't. I wasn't just climbing for survival anymore. This was more than that.

This climb—this final push—was about proving that I wasn't the same person I was when I entered this place. I wasn't climbing just to get out. I was climbing because I had to prove to myself that I could be more. I wasn't the same scared, uncertain person who had stumbled into this nightmare. Each handhold, each painful pull upward was a step away from the person I used to be. I was fighting to become someone new—someone stronger.

The climb wasn't just a physical struggle anymore. It was mental. It was about letting go of the part of me that had always been afraid, the part that had always doubted my worth. The climb was the only thing standing between who I had been and who I needed to become. I couldn't fail now. I couldn't let the fear win.

Just when I thought the climb would never end, my hand found something solid—something different. My fingers brushed against it, and with a jolt, I realized it was the edge. The top.

I had made it.

But as soon as I realized I had reached the top, my body gave out. I collapsed onto the cool, rough surface of the rock, too exhausted to move. The wind, which had been my enemy for so long, now felt gentle as it glided over me, as if congratulating me for surviving. I lay there, gasping for breath, my body trembling with exhaustion. The climb was over, but I couldn't bring myself to stand.

The coolness of the stone seeped into my skin, my eyes fluttering shut. The pounding of my heartbeat echoed in my ears, my vision fading in and out. Black spots dancing in the corners of my eyes. The world around me seemed to tilt and sway, the exhaustion overwhelming my senses. Every part of me screamed to just close my eyes, to give in to the darkness, but something wouldn't let me. I fought to keep my eyes open, to stay awake, though I wasn't sure why. The climb was over, but my mind refused to let me rest. It kept replaying the ascent, every near-slip, every brush with death.

The fear, the uncertainty—it lingered. I had reached the top, but what now? What if this was just the beginning of something worse? What if this test, this climb, was only a prelude to something far more terrifying? The thought gnawed at me, my pulse quickening again despite my exhaustion. I wasn't safe yet. Not by a long shot.

I tried to lift my head, but I was too weak. Just as darkness threatened to swallow me, I caught a glimpse of something—movement, a shadow shifting at the edge of my vision.

Someone—or something—was watching.

And then, before I could react, the darkness took me, and I passed out, too drained to fight it.