📜 CHAPTER 3

The First Clash: Alaric vs. Sythrak’s Guardians

Alaric's boots slammed against the cracked stone road, his cloak whipping behind him like a tattered flag.

Without hesitation, he plunged toward the path of the Golden Treasure — the road of strategy, patience, and hidden traps. 🛡️

He would not outrun the darkness.
He would outwit it.

The mist thickened into walls.
Only the faint shimmer of golden tiles beneath his feet guided him forward.

Behind him, the Shadowfang gave chase — a beast stitched together from greed and nightmare, its claws sparking against the stones, its jaw snapping inches from Alaric’s back.

But Alaric did not run blindly.

As he sprinted, he saw them—faint glimmers in the road: pressure plates, hidden vault doors, secret triggers.

He dove left, slapped his palm against a stone sigil, and—

WHAM.

A wall of spinning axes burst from the ground behind him, slicing the mist clean.
The Shadowfang screeched, skidding back just in time to avoid being cut in two.

It wouldn’t be so lucky next time. 🧠🛡️

Deeper into the labyrinth of Golden Treasure he ran, setting off trap after trap:

• Spears of light shooting from the ground.

• Nets of gold thread dropping from ancient arches.

• Glowing mines that exploded with dazzling force.

Each one chipped away at the Shadowfang’s strength.
Each one bought him precious seconds.

But the beast was clever.
With every trap it dodged, it grew more furious, more reckless, shredding the ancient vaults in its pursuit.

Alaric could feel the ground itself mourning with every destroyed treasure chamber.

This was not a battle to be won by force.
It was a battle to be won by precision.

At last, he reached the Vault of Final Trials — a massive golden gate carved with four familiar symbols:
⚡ A panda.
🛡️ A treasure chest.
✨ A swirling star.
🌙 A sleeping dragon.

And just beneath the carvings, etched in forgotten tongue:

"Only the true champion may spin the wheel of fate."

A stone pedestal rose from the floor, glowing faintly.

A wheel.
Not a sword.
Not a shield.

A spin.

Alaric understood instantly.
The fate of the battle—and his own life—would be decided by one spin, drawn from the ancient magic of the platforms.

The Shadowfang lunged with a roar that shattered the very air.
Alaric slammed his hand down on the pedestal—

The Wheel of Fate spun.

Gold. Silver. Fire. Stars. Shields. Swords.
Symbols flashed faster and faster, a blur of destiny.

The beast soared through the air toward him, claws aimed straight for Alaric’s heart.

Alaric drew his sword. Stood his ground.

And waited.

Waited for the spin to tell him who he must become.

The wheel slowed.
The world froze.

It landed on—

✨ Vblink: the Realm of Unseen Fortune. ✨

A surge of magic exploded around him.
The walls of the vault dissolved into shimmering portals.
Illusions multiplied.
For every one Alaric, ten more appeared.

The Shadowfang roared, slashing wildly at false images, losing track of the real warrior among the phantoms.

Alaric moved swiftly, silently.

One strike.
A real blade through real flesh.

The Shadowfang shrieked, stumbled, collapsed.

Its corrupted body dissolved into dust, leaving behind only a single silver token—an ancient piece of SlotLand’s stolen fortune. 🪙

Alaric bent down, picked up the coin, and tucked it into the folds of his cloak.

One victory.
One step closer.
But the true enemy still waited beyond the veil.

He turned toward the mist ahead, where the outline of Sythrak’s lair loomed faintly against the starless sky.

But he was not alone.

From the mist, whispers rose.

Another soul, stubborn and brave, had set out on the road to find him.

Taytum.

🛡️ TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4:
"Love and Loyalty: Taytum’s Dangerous Journey"

"As Alaric battles through the Borderlands, Taytum defies the kingdom’s warnings and begins her own quest. But the dangers awaiting her may be even darker than those her husband faces..."