A torrent of flames engulfed the area as Elion lunged with his onyx blade. The foe was a Class III, its body constantly shrouded in thick shadows that even Kellta's fire couldn't chase away.
A column of darkness coiled before striking, as if too many limbs were winding up at once. The blow slammed into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and flinging him back.
To his left, Eshrod rushed in without hesitation. Her black arms seemed to devour the shadows as they did the light. She thrust her hand forward, reaching into the abyss to stop the creature from bringing down the finishing blow on her favorite cook.
Her fingers closed around something just as Elion got up and dashed again. This time, his sword met flesh—or what passed for flesh in such an elusive creature.
"Leo, now!" the Gremlin shouted as a bolt of lightning cracked the air, passing right next to her face and into the shadows.
It struck true, but lacked the power to kill.
"I've had enough of you, you invisible bastards!" Leonard snarled as she barreled forward, dead set on finishing the Class III with her sword.
Before she could connect, claws clamped around her neck, lifting her into the air. Elion, who had made it to her right, swung his sword, guided by his ability, hoping to sever the arm—but another blade got there first.
Farha's curved sword cleaved through the limb holding the Zeus wannabe.
Leonard didn't waste a moment. She thrust her weapon with the precision of someone who could sense her target while Eshrod wrestled the other shadowy limbs away from her partner. But her sword wasn't as well made as Farha's or Elion's—it left a mark, but not a fatal one.
The Mute Demon reached into the void, stepping back from the fray and tossing her the warhammer.
"Hell yeah, Thor time!" Leonard grinned as lightning arced up the weapon.
She used efficient footwork to make enough space and slammed the crackling hammer of doom into the shadowy mass of flesh and claws. The strike echoed through the cavern as Eshrod staggered back.
The shroud of shadows dissipated, revealing a body: dark, oily skin; an unnerving abundance of limbs ending in twisted, claw-like appendages. Mostly tentacles intertwined together—and now blood.
And that's what we get to eat for the next few days… great.
They'd exhausted their food supply during their travels. This hunt was meant to fix that, though judging by the look of their kill, it wouldn't be pleasant.
Eshrod hummed an upbeat tune as she began butchering the Class III. Elion turned to Leonard.
Claw marks scored her neck, but the wound didn't look serious. She was staring at her forearm. Noticing his gaze, she raised her thumb and smiled.
Now that they'd taken care of the Soul Integrity problem, they could push onward. The next kill would have to go to Hela, though that one would be trickier—she had little combat experience and her ability was useless in a fight. The group would need to immobilize their prey for her to claim the kill.
If they could find a Class II, it might work. But lately they'd been lucky just to encounter Class IIIs. The deeper they went, the more dangerous the creatures became, and the faster Soul Integrity dwindled under Entropy's influence.
Elion could usually spot the beasts from far enough away to choose their fights. The memory of their last encounter with a Class IV was still burned into his mind—the gap between III and IV was enormous. Hunting the latter was possible only with months of study and preparation.
Even then, the strength of newly Unlocked fighters was rarely enough to pierce their hides. Winning was simply out of the question. They'd have to stick to Class IIIs…
Elion grilled tentacles over the flames. He had no idea how to prepare them. The only way to save the taste was to nail the temperature—but even that was a challenge. The meat was too alien. He didn't know whether to overcook it or undercook it.
Maybe just treat it like any other meat?
One look at the sizzling lump on his stick answered the question.
Better cook it longer… I'd rather eat coal than whatever that is.
In the end, it tasted awful.
"Not your finest work," Eshrod said dejectedly.
"Look at what I have to work with. It's a miracle it's even edible."
The Gremlin took another bite and grimaced.
"I almost regret the ration bars."
Elion ignored her and walked toward Lumos, who sat alone in a corner, studying the runes glowing on his body.
The young cook offered him some food.
"Eat, at least."
The sorcerer stared at it, took it tentatively, and smiled weakly.
"Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll get over it."
"I'm not worried," Elion replied, turning away.
Farha watched him silently, her face unreadable.
After more travel, they decided to move closer to the river. The landscape was still devoid of light, no sign of lantern trees. Kellta's flame lit a rocky terrain.
Occasional crystals cast faint light with their black lightning. The void above was as dark as ever; the blue plasma was long gone.
Elion scanned their surroundings with his ability, restricting its use to short bursts. His Soul Integrity was still high, but with the growing danger of hunts, he didn't want to waste too much.
Eventually, their island of light revealed a drop ahead. The darkness in front fused with the void above, ending in an abrupt cliff.
As they neared the edge, the surroundings came into sharper focus. It was a perfectly straight cliff face. Some stones were chipped, but the line itself was too precise to be natural. It stretched as far as the eye could see. No bottom in sight.
The river beside them plunged into a roaring waterfall, throwing mist into the air before vanishing into the abyss.
"How the hell are we supposed to get down there?" Eshrod asked with a deadpan expression on her face.
"The King's Envoys made the journey," Elion said. "There must be a way."
They moved left, since the river blocked the right and none of them wanted to cross it.
The straight cliff stretched on for a while. Nothing in the abyss betrayed any signs of a way down.
How is it so perfect?
There was no clue as to why, as if the world had simply been cut by a higher will. As if a part of the world had been ripped out and dragged into the… Depths…
Of course. Why didn't I think of that?
It all made sense. The massive skeleton, the uncharted river, the ruins with old scripture written in Terask. Even the time loop. It happened on the surface, why would it be down here now?
The only explanation was that part of the surface had been dragged into the Depths long ago. Just as the God of Memories and Time had frozen a battlefield in time, the Earth God had dragged an entire region into his realm.
But why?
No clear reason came to mind—perhaps just an ego trip. Too little was known about this god to be sure.
Still, the implication was staggering. If the Earth God could swallow such a massive area and drag it kilometres underground for no apparent purpose, how had he even lost the Great Holy War?
Well… the Sun God wasn't exactly weak either. He'd rendered the surface uninhabitable, birthing an entirely new concept: Scorn.
In a way, things were balanced. The Earth God manipulated Entropy—a concept born from infinity—while the Sun God wielded Scorn, the soul-eroding power of the divinity of the sky.
Both were incredibly powerful.
Both were gone, swallowed by oblivion.
The concepts the two gods wielded were rendered unrestrained after their death, leading the world into chaos. Because of that, humans were forced to live in the center of it and recreate a fake sun to chase away both heavenly concepts.
It was an achievement—holding back the power of two gods. Nexus stood as the pinnacle of human ingenuity, a technology born at the crossroads of two ages.
Elion was pulled from his endless pondering about the past when he spotted, against the cliff, a precarious wooden structure.
It was nailed into the stone, reinforced with metal bindings—clearly built for ascending and descending the cliff. Probably the work of the Dwellers of the Depths.
"Here's our way down," Elion said, approaching the rickety frame.
"You sure it's safe? Looks like it'll fall apart if I sneeze on it," Eshrod said.
"It's safe. Trust me. I'll go first, you guys follow."
His ability also worked on inanimate objects, just as it had when he first used it. Everything was made of threads of chromatic light—chairs, walls, weapons.
Mundane items had a simple weave, just a single thread revealing the material's stability and composition.
Mystic items, on the other hand, harbored a lot more intricate designs.
Elion's onyx sword, for example, was a masterpiece of interwoven light. He'd tried and failed to decipher its meaning. Even his mask carried a modestly complex weave.
The wooden structure had such a weave—far from mundane. Likely stronger than most human-made alloys.
Elion stepped onto it and began his descent under the group's wary gazes.
"See? Stable as can be," he said—right before almost slipping on the wood.
They still looked unconvinced but followed anyway.
Using what could almost pass as a ladder—it looked more like an odd scaffolding than anything—they climbed down into the Depths.