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Chapter 301 - Three Paths
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 00:00:08 +0000 UTCAyu’s eyes widened in amazement.
The structure before her was unlike anything she'd expected—tucked deep in a narrow crevice at the heart of the mountain range, far above the forested ground and well below the jagged peaks. Hidden beside a quiet creek, veiled by overgrowth and rock, it would’ve been impossible to find without Makoh guiding them. The entrance was barely a crack in the stone—narrow enough they’d had to slide through sideways, scraping their shoulders against the cold rock.
But once inside—
The tunnel opened into a hollowed chamber, unnatural in its symmetry. Thick metal walls glinted beneath the dust, their surface dull with age yet unmistakably foreign to the mountain’s natural stone. The air was dry, stale, tinged with the scent of oxidised metal and something older—something artificial.
Near the far wall, a massive gate loomed half-collapsed, its surface buckled inward like something had forced its way out rather than in. Jagged tears ran along its edges, the exposed inner layers revealing strange tubing and dense composite alloys.
And yet… there were signs of the beastmen too.
Simple torches had been wedged into cracks in the floor and wall, long extinguished but still faintly scented of herbal oil. On the right wall, someone had carved words into the blackened steel—old beastman script, stylised and careful.
One read ‘Awaken’. Another: ‘Life’.
Ayu turned slowly to Alonso, who stood beside her.
His expression mirrored her surprise, but there was something else beneath it—serious, almost guarded.
He noticed her gaze and nodded at her.
“It is similar, yes.”
She gave a slow nod back and continued forward, her thoughts racing.
She knew the story. Knew about Alonso’s fall into that strange Xayen ruin—an abandoned lab buried hundreds of meters beneath the ground, sealed and forgotten.
So this one… was it the same? Another fragment of that ancient, advanced civilization?
She didn’t voice it.
Instead, they followed Makoh through the metal corridors. The path was narrow, the walls scratched and slightly dented, but well preserved. Dust coated the floor in a light blanket, disturbed only by the prints of recent patrols.
Eventually, the passage opened.
Makoh stepped into the chamber first.
Ayu and Alonso followed.
Torches flickered to life along the walls, revealing a wide, circular room.
Large glass tubes lined the far side—some shattered, others intact, their interiors clouded with residue and dust. Wires ran between them like veins, threaded into steel pylons that rose from the floor. Each tube was fitted with a circular plate at the base, scorched and marked with concentric rings as if from long pulses of energy.
Strange consoles stood nearby, metallic and lifeless, covered in beastman etchings and ritual signs—offering bowls and old cloths laid respectfully atop them. The juxtaposition was surreal. Machine and tribal tradition. Cold alloy and reverent hands.
One of the things Alonso had said back then came floating to Ayu’s mind as she stared at the room, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.
Makoh’s voice suddenly broke the silence.
“I notice,” he said slowly, “that you are somewhat familiar with this structure.”
His gaze was fixed on Alonso.
Alonso didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he nodded. “This is a Xayen ruin, right?”
Makoh said nothing. He watched him in silence a moment longer, as if weighing something behind those old eyes, then turned to Ayu.
“Before heading out,” he said, “there is an offer I would like to make you.”
Ayu blinked, eyebrows raised, unsure. “An offer?”
Makoh walked further into the room, his tail brushing lightly over the still air. His silhouette passed between two of the large, silent tubes, and he placed a hand on one of the consoles, where carvings of old beastman script blended with lines too symmetrical, too perfect to have been etched by claw or tool.
“There is a boundary,” he said softly, “between what is born… and what becomes.”
He didn’t turn, didn’t raise his voice or explain himself. The words floated into the stillness like ripples across deep water.
“Some are shaped by time. Scar by scar. Step by step. Others are shaped by will alone. And the chisel of will—” his fingers paused, resting on the panel, “—cuts deeper than time.”
He turned then, slowly, his eyes not hard, not pressing, but calm.
“You were born with two hands, two feet, one name. But the mountain does not ask the wind where to go. It simply breaks. It becomes.”
Ayu stood still. Her feet didn’t move, but her chest rose slightly with each breath. The words slipped inside her, circling, not settling.
“This place…” she murmured, unsure if she meant it as a question or an observation.
Alonso sent her a pulse.
“It’s a DNA interface,” it said. “A wet-link controller. Xayen biotech. I remember it from the visuals. This is what they used to rewrite genetic code—modify genomes at the root. They grafted traits, spliced sequences, mixed lineages in search of the perfect organism they always sought after. But based on my memories, the one in front of us… this was used to turn men into...”
He didn’t finish, but Ayu knew.
She did not delay as she took a step forward and bowed.
“I appreciate the offer, Master, but… I would prefer to stay like this,” she said, voice low.
Makoh didn’t move.
“I understand, child. But perhaps you would care to listen to the three paths offered,” the Grandmaster said gently.
Three? Ayu looked at Alonso, but he shook his head. “Don’t know about that.”
After a brief pause, Ayu nodded. At the very least, she would hear him out.
“We beastmen… and the Ajnal to the West, and the Azcoyatl to the East, we were once one people. One root. One breath. Long ago, when the moon still saw the sea as its twin, we lived under the name of Xayen. A mighty people, wise in the ways of the world, with minds sharp enough to split storms and hands steady enough to build wonders.”
Makoh moved his hand slowly across the air, as if tracing a memory.
“But minds grow restless. As all fires do when fed too much. The Xayen sought more—stronger bodies, faster steps, greater power to rise above the wild and even the sky. And so they began carving flesh as they once carved stone. They reached into the threads of life, trying to reweave the pattern.”
He turned to face them fully now, voice neither bitter nor proud.
“From man and beast, we were born. Not all at once. Not cleanly. Many lives were lost in the trying—both human and animal. But in time, the thread held. The new body stood. The first beastmen walked. And they were strong.”
Ayu’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Strong, yes—but not whole. Strength alone breeds fire. Fire burns the mind. So, later, the Xayen changed again. They wove with different fibers. Balanced body with thought. Rage with stillness. And in time… they succeeded.”
“The Xok’al,” Alonso said.
Makoh gave a slow nod.
“Yes. The Xok’al. The last craft of the old ones. Their… final echo.”
A thick silence followed.
Makoh’s eyes found Ayu again.
“We no longer use what lies behind me,” he said, gesturing toward the device. “But we guard it, as our fathers did before us. A grandmaster remains, always. Not to wield, but to watch. It was left to me, as I will one day leave it for another.”
He stepped forward, tail low and still.
“And we were told… that one day, Outsiders would come. Those not of fur or fang, but still with the flame. If one such soul stood before us, and followed our way, they were to be offered a choice—three paths, with three conditions.”
Told…? Ayu’s gaze sharpened. The Tower. Of course. Her mind spun through the possibilities. Was this a trial? A hidden event? Something crucial to clearing the stage?
Makoh gestured to the room behind him.
“There are three threads here,” he said, “and none leave the soul and body unchanged.”
He stepped between two of the great broken cylinders and lifted one hand toward a stone pedestal near the wall, where a set of sealed vials lay embedded in a recessed tray—each filled with a faintly luminous liquid, softly pulsing within a tangle of old delivery tubes.
“The first thread pulls the flesh toward the wild. Your limbs will shift. Your skin may take scale or fur. Your voice may deepen into growl, and your eyes may shine like a beast beneath the moon. Strength will surge through your bones. Speed, reflex, power. But… the storm will touch your thoughts. The mind, too, will howl. You will walk faster—but with less clarity.”
He gave a small pause.
“To take this path, you need only our acceptance. That… you already carry.”
Ayu remained silent, clearly not interested in that one.
Makoh stepped toward the next pedestal, which held only a few vials.
“The second thread is one of balance,” he said. “The beast remains within, but sleeps lightly. A tail, perhaps. Keen hearing. A body faster than most, stronger than all. But your face will still be yours. Your voice will still be your own.”
He tilted his head slightly, the torchlight flickering against the grey of his fur.
“This path strengthens without consuming. It walks between instinct and thought. Yet to walk it, you must earn its right—by stepping into the Third Body State… and defeating a Master of our kind in open trial.”
Ayu’s brow furrowed.
"That’s… not something I’ve done," she murmured.
Makoh nodded once.
"There is a third path."
He moved no further, his steps ending calmly at the far end of the chamber, where a single, plain pedestal stood sealed within what looked like reinforced glass. Inside it rested a lone vial.
Ayu’s eyes were drawn to its colour—deep, vibrant—like something in her gut was quietly calling her toward it.
"One thread remains. One only. A thread untainted by the beast, and untouched by the wild."
His voice quieted.
“It does not change your face, nor your voice. It does not gift fur or claw. It reaches into what is already there… and sharpens it. It does not replace. It reveals. It pulls your inner self to its furthest edge, the edge the old ones once wished to touch.”
Ayu blinked, lips parting just slightly as her eyes stayed fixed on the glass-encased vial.
Now that—that caught her attention.
She didn’t care for all that ancestor-spirit-path-shit, and she definitely wasn’t looking to grow fangs or start sniffing people, but this… this was different. If what Makoh said was true, and this thing could make her powerful, without turning her into a walking furball, then hell, maybe it was worth thinking about. Because in the end, all she ever wanted inside this cursed Tower was the strength to fight, to win, to protect the few she gave a damn about, and one day—somehow—get the hell out.
Her fists clenched by her sides.
“And what’s the requirement for this one?” she asked, voice lower now, more serious.
Makoh didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, hands behind his back, still as stone while the seconds passed in that thick, unmoving air.
Then he finally spoke.
“There is only one thread of this kind,” he said. “One… and no other. When it is taken, it will not return. It shall be given only to the one who walks our path—not with mind’s fire, but with the strength of their body alone—and in doing so, defeats the Guardian set to watch this place.”
Ayu’s breath caught in her throat.
Wait—
“The Guardian…?” she muttered.
Her eyes snapped to Makoh.
No way.
“For now, only the first path remains open to you—one I can sense you do not desire. Yet all three will remain, and the final decision may wait. Though know this,” Makoh added, “the third path is unique, and only one soul may ever claim it.”
Ayu gave a small nod, the weight of it all sinking in.
She understood what he meant. If there were other Climbers aiming for it, then only the first to beat Makoh would earn that final reward. Nothing for second place.
Yet… did she even have competition?
So yeah, she had time. But that didn’t change the fact that the task itself was daunting as hell. Defeating none other than the legend himself.
The White Wolf of the West.
Her master.
How long would that even take?
“You’re thinking of aiming for that last offer?” Alonso’s pulse slipped into her mind.
Ayu stayed quiet for a few seconds, then gave a short nod.
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“It’s your decision, Ayu. I’ll support whatever you choose,” he said. “Just… not really into furries.”
Her lips curled into a faint smile.
Alonso stepped forward a moment later, his eyes on Makoh.
“Grandmaster, may I make a request?”
Makoh turned to face him, and beside him, Ayu raised a curious brow.
“Yes?”
“I noticed several Xayen digital recordings embedded in this room. Would it be possible for me to access and study them?”
