Trouble is a finicky bitch. When ye don’t go seekin’ ‘er, she comes looking for ye.

~Goibniu, The God of the Forge and Brew

“I’ll go first,” Crow said before either of them could speak.

“You aren’t afraid we’ll kill you?” Hooligan asked.

“Two things come to mind. Are you sure you can? And if you can’t, what happens next?”

“We could bail on this challenge,” Munro said.

“You cannot,” a voice reverberated throughout the Shrine. “Either all pass or one dies. A warning so you can’t claim we misled you. The punishments are all survivable, but that’s assuming you do not choose the person’s weakness or if the two punishers do not choose punishments that augment each other.”

Crow knew the implied meaning was questioning how well they knew each other. If they chose an attack that appeared to be targeting a weakness, but the other person survived, the consequences were dire. The challenge was about trust, but this early in their search for the Shrines, it was likely they barely knew anything about each other. Crow and Munro were an exception because they grew up in the same place together, but that only held so much weight. After all, Munro was now using a mace and shield combo for his weapons, so he changed his areas of growth, and his weaknesses were no longer the same.

There was the potential that some sects gathered the wooden artifacts to send a group together. Crow doubted they would have planned for a challenge like this. Most likely, that kind of group would have sacrificed someone for the ‘greater good.’ Then again, maybe he was being cynical.

“What do I do?” Crow asked.

“Walk through the barrier ahead of you, and you’ll find a bridge that spans the Ghost River. Once you reach a hanging lantern, the other two will choose from a list of punishments provided. You could run to the end and take all ten punishments, but if you reach the next lantern before they choose a punishment on the previous one—we’ll randomize it.”

Crow shuddered and chose not to do that. Instead, he walked through the door, and the moment he did, the other two appeared in the sky above him. Each was in a glass box with a divider between them so they couldn’t see each other. However, they were both able to see him as he progressed.

The stone bridge was wide and honestly very majestic looking. Crow was in awe of its architecture. It only had a slight arch to it, and he could see the far side even in the gloomy atmosphere. Whatever made up the river was not water. He could sense a cold aura coming from it and quickly identified it since he had a set of skills that used Ghost Mana. The faint moans of souls in agony came from the blue-colored energy, and it gave off the same glow the lanterns did.

Crow stepped onto the bridge but stayed in the center, afraid of getting too close to either side. Once he reached the first lantern, he stood there and waited. From the right, the side Munro was on, the river stirred, and shortly after, the left side had a similar reaction.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when two spectral dragons raised their heads out of the water and stared down at him. Never had he felt so insignificant, and those two mighty looking beings glared at him with contempt as if looking at an insect.

What the fuck kind of punishment is this? Crow shouted internally, trying to shake off his fear. Munro’s dragon opened its mouth and spewed Dragonfire while the other expelled dagger-like sleet from its eyes. He recognized the spell as Razor Rain, which was terrifying all on its own. Crow stared at his impending death, but it never came. He realized the Razor Rain was melting before it could hit him, and the remaining ice wasn’t worth mentioning. The fire couldn’t get past the rain, so it didn’t even reach him, but the fire was the one thing he didn’t fear.

Steam surrounded like the warm mists of the showers back in Sanctuary. What was meant to kill him turned into a comfortable bathing experience.

Not bothering to stay there, he moved to the next lantern, and within seconds, a massive hand rose out of the water and grasped the side of the bridge. Its mighty inhuman strength caused the bridge to buckle and sway, which staggered him.

Bewildered, he glanced at the two people above and could see Munro’s creased brow. Hooligan looked calm, but nothing came out of the waters on the left side, which scared him even more. There was no more time to be bothered with her because his danger sense came from the giant.

Crow started weaving layers of vines together to create a barrier of sorts. Even if it were essentially garbage, any little bit would help. In fact, he made a few more barriers, especially when he saw a fist coming toward him. Its middle finger was taller than him, so the fist would squash him like a bug.

He took a step back to brace himself. Condensing the layers and slanting them, he hoped to deflect as much of the blow as possible. Crow watched everything in slow motion and saw the giant knuckles touch the first barrier. Unlike his expectation, the vines flexed and didn’t immediately tear. Instead, the more the layers bent into the one below it, the more resistance they gave. It might not seem like a lot, but the fist did shift off target.

His own barriers pressed down against him, and because of the angle, shifting bridge, and force of impact, he shot out to the side like squeezing a pea from a pod. Crow slammed against the side of the bridge and sat there stunned as he tried to regain his breath and bearings. By all rights, he should have been knocked into the river, but he landed almost three meters from the stone guard rail.

Barely a breath later, he realized why when an invisible monster’s camouflage faded. It looked like a lizard, but Crow quickly understood why the fist was deflected, and it had nothing to do with his flimsy barriers. The resistance was the beast’s upper half, which was now meat paste.

“What the fuck punishments are you choosing?” Crow shouted out, feeling wronged. Surprisingly, they could answer back.

“You will understand when you make these choices. They are as vague as can be. That giant’s fist was a test of might, which…” Munro shrugged, unable to explain how the simplest choices seemed even more horrifying than the other options.

“And you?” Crow asked Hooligan, realizing he might have overreacted, but he felt it was within reason.

“Perception.”

Crow sighed and stood up shakily. The giant’s fist might not have been so bad if he had Ghost Steps or Phasing. However, Vine wasn’t that great in this scenario. Its versatility wasn’t in question, but he was vulnerable until he learned the defensive parts.

Reaching the halfway point, Crow crested the slight rise of the bridge, he waited once more. Several long seconds went by, and nothing happened, so he looked upward only to find the other two were staring behind him.

It was a bad idea to turn around—he just sensed it. The cold chill going down his spine was a testament to how scared he should be.

A woman sobbed behind him, and her cold hands grasped his clothes. Struggling in her grasp, those fingers suddenly turned savage and shredded the flimsy pieces of clothing. Refusing to turn around, he continued to try and flee. His clothes were pieces of rags falling around him while she clung to his flesh like a damned leech. By now, they were both panting heavily. If the situation wasn’t what it was, the ambiguous sounds might be mistaken for some other indecent act.

“Hussssband,” she sobbed.

“Oh, fuck no.”