District 10 smelled of burnt grease and damp, as always. Rheell walked a step ahead of Lumis, dodging the puddles of dirty water that glittered in the dim light of the gas lamps. They carried a rag-wrapped package—Mareth's vegetables for Old Dalk—and a message the midwife had whispered conspiratorially:
— "And if the grumpy old man protests, remind him that the last time I brought him meat, he ate it all in one day and then couldn't stop complaining about his stomach . "
Lumis laughed softly, repeating Mareth's words aloud, but Rheell just frowned. Something in the air made him feel alert, like the instinct that drove him to hide when hunters prowled near the nest.
They arrived at the bar "The Last Sigh"
The place was crowded and noisy, filled with smoke and harsh laughter. In one corner, Dalk raised his mug of beer as he told a story—that of a hunter who had lost his sanity after seeing "the eyes of the Abyss" on Level 6.
" Hey, you little devils! " the old man called out when he saw them, his voice hoarse from the alcohol. "Did you bring anything other than those withered leaves? "
Lumis handed him the package with a mischievous smile:
— Mareth says that if he wants meat, he should buy it for him. And don't even think about asking him for another bottle of brandy .
Dalk grunted, but accepted the vegetables with an exaggerated gesture of resignation. As always, he ended by inviting them to sit down. Rheell settled on the edge of his chair, restless, as the old man began another story. This time he spoke of the chants from Level 7, which, according to him, "weren't sounds, but something living that got into your head . "
" How do you know so much, old man? " Rheell asked, leaning forward.
Dalk was silent for a moment, looking at his prosthesis—a crude thing of wood and abyssal bone—before answering:
— Because I survived, kid. And sometimes, that's worse than dying .
As they left the bar, the cold hit them hard. Rheell stopped dead in his tracks when he heard hurried footsteps and the scraping of chains. From the shadow of an alley, they saw three hooded guards pushing a group of emaciated people.
" Faster, scum! The Elevator won't wait!" one shouted, while another, younger one, nervously adjusted his hood.
Lumis grabbed Rheell's hand, squeezing tightly. She didn't understand. Why did humans cage other humans? Weren't they supposed to be a pack, like hers in the Abyss?
—"Come on, trash! To District 4!" —the soldier spat.— "The New Village on Level 1 awaits you… That's where you belong".
Rheell squeezed Lumis's arm, hidden among the barrels of salt pork, and then they left.
Later, they arrived at their new home: Mareth's house, which was small and warm, with cracked wooden walls and the smell of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. The midwife was mending a shirt when they entered.
" Mission accomplished! " Rheell announced, imitating the soldiers they saw on the streets.
Mareth laughed, but his joy faded when Lumis jumped into his arms:
— "Mom Mareth! We saw guards taking people to the Abyss!"
Mareth's smile froze.
"Oh my God," she whispered, paling. "Are we being thrown away like garbage now too? " Her fingers tightened around her apron, as if trying to grasp something solid. " Listen carefully: If you see that again, run and tell me. Understand? "
That night, Mareth tucked them into their beds—planks covered with patched blankets—humming a song that smelled of burnt bread and old tears. Outside, the wind howled like an omen.
The next day, the morning sun was filtering through the cracks in the roof when Rheell woke up. The smell of burnt bread filled the small house. From the kitchen, he heard Mareth laugh—a warm laugh that no longer sounded tired—and Lumis protest:
— "It's not my fault the fire is treacherous!"
"Little girl, even the water boils slower when you're cooking!" Mareth playfully took the wooden spoon from her hands. "Look, like this... slowly, like you're petting a kitten."
Rheell stood in the doorway, watching. Lumis, the former Abyss larva , was now biting her lip in concentration, mimicking Mareth's movements. It was strange : her fingers no longer ended in gelatinous shapes, her skin no longer gleamed in the light, but she was still her. As if she had always been human.
Mareth looked up and smiled at him.
"What are you doing standing there like a statue? Come try Lumis's 'stew,'" he said, making quotation marks with his fingers.
The taste was horrible —salty like the sea and bitter like rotten roots—but Rheell swallowed it without complaint. Mareth looked at them with eyes that were no longer empty.
That afternoon, in the alleys of District 5, Tobin was waiting for them, jumping over the rubble of a collapsed building.
"Slow as slugs!" he shouted. "Were you praying to the gods of the Abyss or something?"
" Almost, " Rheell muttered, rubbing his stomach. "Lumis poisoned us with her cooking ."
As they played "Abyss Hunters" —a tongue-in-cheek game where Tobin played the human and they played the beasts—Rheell sniffed the air. That smell of metal and rancid leather : the same guards from the night before.
" Wait here for me ," he said to Tobin and Lumis, slipping into the shadows.
The guards weren't wearing official uniforms, just faded District 9 clothes , but Rheell recognized their scent: nervous sweat and cheap gunpowder .
" What if they rebel? " a younger man asked, adjusting his cloth mask.
" With what? With your nails?" the leader spat. "Level 1 will soften them up fast ."
Lumis appeared at his side, silent as a sigh:
— "Tobin says there's a parade at the Market... Shall we go?"
Rheell shook his head.
" Let's follow these first ."
The District 4 Market was teeming with people . Lumis climbed onto Tobin's shoulders to look over their heads:
— "Look! Horses in armor!"
They were the Warriors of the Dawn , Aetherion's elite. Among them, Ashur strode forward like a living mountain. His sword, "Fang of the Fallen Star ," hummed with bone-rattling energy. At his side, a young woman with white hair and a fierce smile— Camille —waved to the crowd.
" She's his sister," Tobin whispered. "They say she killed a Nix-Terath with her bare hands ."
For a moment, Rheell forgot his mission. Ashur was a legend: the human who had faced a Noctis and survived. His bare back bore scars that shone like constellations in the sun.
—"Rheell !" —Lumis pulled him by the arm—. —"The guards!"
Following the guards, they reached the Level 1 Elevators . Rheell felt the air thicken, thick with salt and rust . Tobin, pale, clutched his sleeve.
— "My dad says they send the ones no one misses here…"
The elevator creaked as it descended. Lumis, for the first time since they left the Abyss, was trembling .
" Do you think there are still Kharis here? " he asked, unconsciously touching the tail hidden beneath his fur.
Rheell didn't reply. Level 1 was waiting for them .