The boy had his answer. He had the power to kill the thing sealed here.
He just couldn't survive it.
For a moment, he was quiet. Then, with no hesitation in his voice, he said, "I can kill it."
The words struck like a thunderclap.
He said it. Just like that.
Elixa stared at him in disbelief. He still didn't know what manner of monster lay beyond the Abyss Gate. He didn't know its name, its story, its horror. And yet he dared to say he could kill it?
"Madness," she thought. But she didn't say it aloud.
Because his eyes—despite the blindfold, despite the centuries—she felt them.Felt the truth bleeding through their silence.
He meant it.
He truly believed he could kill the thing she had spent a thousand years guarding against.
She tried to reason with him, her voice sharp and raw.
"Hey..." she said slowly, her voice taut with disbelief. "I don't know if you're just saying that to comfort me, or if you're actually insane. But what the hell are you talking about?"
She stepped forward.
"You didn't even know this place existed. You don't even know what it is I'm guarding. And yet… you stand there like you've already buried it."
She wanted to scoff. To call it bluff, madness, ignorance. But the silence between his words was louder than arrogance. It wasn't bravado. It wasn't delusion.
It sounded like grief.
Icariel didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe heavy.
The air shifted. A flicker of red passed through his void-black eyes like a spark behind smoke.
"I'm telling the truth," he said quietly. "I have that power. But using it would kill me too. And…" His voice dropped. "…I'm not close to anyone anymore to make that kind of sacrifice."
He raised a hand. Pointed toward her—toward the gate.
"I'll do it. If you give me a way to survive it. A skill. An item. Anything that guarantees I don't die when I burn it."
Elixa went still, stunned.
Such a power—enough to kill a godlike menace—was something she had never dared to dream of.
"A power strong enough to give your life for...?" she whispered.
He nodded.
Elixa shook her head. "Even if what you say is true... even a hundred lives together couldn't kill what's in there. And I don't have the authority to give you another reward. Not for my cause. Even if I asked the ones above me, they'd refuse. They'd call this madness."
"Then... I can't help you."
But before she could respond, her voice dropped lower. "There is something in the human world. A relic. A legend."
"What is it?" he asked.
"We call it Immortality. I don't know where it is, or who holds it. But I know it exists. It can't be destroyed. And when used, it grants the bearer five minutes."
"Five minutes?" Icariel echoed.
"Five minutes where death is impossible. No matter what you do. No matter what you face. You will not die."
"If you find it," she continued, "then yes—I'll open the gate. And if you succeed... I will grant you one wish. Anything."
He went silent. Thinking.
Her eyes, hidden behind her veil, watched him. But she couldn't see the ghost that flickered behind his expression.
He turned inward. "Voice... what do you think?"
The answer came like wind through a cracked door.
"It's beyond risky. But if she's telling the truth... and she gave you that skill from thin air... then it's worth it."
Icariel exhaled slowly, then raised his eyes. "I won't give you false hope. But if I find that item... I'll use it. For you."
The girl breath caught.
She felt it. No deception. No heroics. Just a simple, deadly promise.
"Not giving me hope, huh?" she whispered. "You already did that, human boy."
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Icariel."
She smiled. "Mine is Elixa. Then... we have a deal, Icariel."
She extended her hand. And he took it.
"If you succeed," she said, "I'll risk everything for you and grant that wish."
"How do I find you again?"
She hesitated.
"I'm not allowed to say too much. But you said you saw a white door and entered, yes? I don't know how you did it. Maybe it's your pure mana. Or maybe your eyes... see more than they should."
They see connections.
"Every dungeon has a door, and each door leads to one of the four Abyss Gates. They are marked by colors—black, white, red, and purple. I am the white gate. If you ever want to find me again... just find another white door."
She paused, then added, "The dungeon you entered to find me had no boss. I killed it and exchanged its soul for the skill stone I gave you. That's all it ever was."
As she raised her hand, a white door appeared behind Icariel. Light poured from its frame, humming with distant thunder.
"You can exit through there," she said softly. "You'll return to the dungeon entrance."
Icariel turned away from her.
Then, just before stepping through, he paused.
"Elixa," he said, glancing back, "when I see you again... I hope your eyes don't carry that look anymore."
She blinked. For a heartbeat, she forgot the weight of centuries.
Then smiled.
Not bitter. Not sad.
Just… soft.
"I hope so too, stranger boy. No—Icariel."
Icariel emerged from the dungeon, boots hitting the soft dirt like whispers of a war long buried.
Smoke still lingered from where the forest had been torn.
And waiting for him—
The girl with rust-red eyes. And five figures behind her.
The Dungeon Recovery Guild.
Each stood distinct in the dim forest light:
One, tall with silver-plated armor etched in jagged runes, carried a hammer large enough to crack boulders.
Another, hooded in deep green robes, his fingers stained with arcane ink—an inscriber mage.
A woman cloaked in black-red silk, with skeletal chains wrapped around her arms and necrotic energy flickering from her fingertips.
A younger man in burnished steel wielded twin curved blades, his stance loose, but his eyes deadly.
The last wore no armor, only cloth and golden bands around his wrists, but he radiated raw mana—like a broken sun.
The crack behind Icariel shimmered once—then collapsed.
The dungeon was cleared and sealed.
And now, all eyes were on him.
"Dare to explain what happened in there?" one of them demanded.
The red-eyed girl stepped forward, fury taut in her voice.
"I used the Emergency Flame. That signal's only meant for catastrophic breaches. A boli escaped. I killed it. Then you—you—entered the dungeon in the middle of the chaos. When I followed you… it was already cleared."
"The monsters were dead. Burned. Drowned. Some looked crushed from within. That was our dungeon claim. So I'll ask—who are you, and what the hell happened?"
Icariel stood silent.
He couldn't reveal his face. Not now. Not after what he'd gained.
Tch. He clenched his teeth. His cloak fluttered with the wind.
"Attack them," the voice whispered inside him. "Then escape. Most of them are mages. You can outrun them."
He stepped forward. The tension cracked like lightning.
"Speak," the red-eyed girl growled. "Tell us your name."
He raised one hand.
Water pulsed.
Not a stream. Not a sphere.
A tidal mass of water burst to life—larger than trees, like a mirrored dome swallowing the sky. It swelled, warping the forest air.
Then he hurled it.
Chaos erupted.
"Move—!" someone shouted.
"He's escaping—!"
"That speed—did you see that speed?"
"He cast it without a chant—what the hell kind of mage is he?"
But Icariel was already gone.
A blur. A phantom.
Spears of flame rained behind him like dragon's breath, igniting trees. Smoke rolled through the forest in angry waves. Screams echoed—not all human.
He didn't stop.
Didn't flinch.
He vanished deeper into the smoke until the inferno behind him was a memory.
"Where'd he go?!"
"We've lost him!"
"Use water spells—NOW! Before the fire spreads beyond the tree line!"
They scrambled to stop it. But the boy was already gone.
Far away, in the place no map could find, Elixa sat beneath the rose-leaf tree inside the white door.
The air there never moved.
But a voice echoed.
An ancient, crawling whisper. Older than time.
"Did that human boy truly stir your hope?
"Do you believe he can kill me?"
Elixa didn't turn. Her hands rested in her lap.
"No," she answered. "But I feel... something close to joy."
"Joy?" the voice scoffed. "Many have made promises before him. Spoken grand words. Claimed noble intentions. But he dared say… he could kill me?"
She smiled faintly. "He didn't make a pact. He didn't try to impress me. He simply said the truth. That if I didn't have a way to keep him alive after using his power, he wouldn't fight. That honesty. That—strangeness. You felt it too, didn't you?"
The voice replied. Less amused. More... wary.
"Yes. Strange. No human should carry mana like that—pure, unbroken, leaking from every pore like their body was built for it."
It paused.
"But stranger still... he was not alone."
"Not alone?" she asked, startled.
The Abyss spoke again, voice darker now. "Something else lives inside him…Presences. Plural. I could not see clearly. But he is more than he seems."
Her breath caught. But before she could ask—
"Such arrogance. To claim he can kill me. He doesn't know me. Hasn't felt me."
The darkness laughed. "Had he seen me—touched the weight of my power—he'd be nothing but ash.
"If he returns, I will unmake him—limb by limb, memory by memory. I will peel the mana from his marrow and string his soul across the sky."
Silence.
Then—Elixa's voice. Calm. Unshaken.
"You speak like he will return."
"…Hmph."
"You said I was the one hoping," she smiled faintly. "But it seems we both are."
The presence hissed. Withheld its response.
Then she asked—too softly for anything but eternity to hear:
"…What if he can truly kill you?"
Silence.
Deep.
Endless.
Then—
"He cannot."
"But if he could—"
"If—if—he truly has power to match his words… to kill me…"
The voice paused.
"Then it would change… everything."