The group was getting harder to manage now that there were eight of them. Moving as a unit required more coordination, and their footsteps echoed faintly in the cavernous expanse. They ascended another set of worn stone stairs, each step coated in a thin layer of moisture that made footing treacherous. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet.
As they pushed forward, the passage opened into a vast chamber illuminated by clusters of bioluminescent plants. Ethereal blue and violet hues pulsed softly, casting shifting shadows along the rough walls. The sight was mesmerizing, the plants swaying slightly as if breathing in response to their presence.
Xin reached out, brushing his fingertips against the glowing flora, feeling the cool, waxy texture beneath his touch.
Xin plucked a few, tucking them away carefully, while Belial—now that he had pockets—grabbed some as well.
They pressed onward, the quiet crunch of boots against damp stone filling the space between them. Amidst the steady march, the girl's gaze kept drifting toward Xin. There was something about him that fascinated her. Even in this dim, otherworldly light, he had an almost unnatural beauty. His face, though streaked with dried blood, still held an elegant sharpness. His pale skin contrasted starkly with the grime of their journey, his luscious green hair although rugged still silky and though he looked malnourished, there was still strength in his posture, a gracefulness that couldn't be erased by hardship.
She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.
"Hey… you're her, aren't you? That music artist from Sylvania?"
Xin's steps faltered briefly. His emerald eyes glimmered with surprise, then softened. He let out a short, breathy dry laugh and nodded.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Not the best look for a celebrity, huh?" He gestured vaguely to himself—his torn, dirt-streaked cloak, the dried blood marring his cheek, the wildness in his disheveled hair.
"I used to listen to you a lot Still, even tin this mess you still look beautiful."
The words left her lips before she had a chance to second-guess them.
Xin blinked, caught off guard.
A faint flush crept onto his face, barely visible in the bioluminescent glow. Then, a small, genuine smile curved his lips. It wasn't the practiced expression of someone accustomed to cameras, nor was it the distant amusement he sometimes wore to deflect attention. It was real, warm, and touched with something soft and unreadable.
"Thank you," he said simply.
For a moment, the tension of their surroundings, the danger lurking beyond, seemed to fade. The cavern, the mission, the exhaustion—it all melted into the background, leaving only the fragile glow of connection between them.
Belial walked in silence, the heavy weight of his thoughts pressing on his mind.
There was something off, a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important. His boots echoed softly on the cold stone floor as he led the group through the winding catacombs. Raven, the silent sentinel, was a few paces behind him, positioned as the vanguard. The others followed in a loose formation, their footsteps deliberate, the only sound in the otherwise oppressive stillness.
The air felt heavier as they moved deeper into the catacombs. The narrow, winding passageways stretched on endlessly, but Belial couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. The absence of lesser mirror monsters—the strange, twisted creatures that normally lurked in these depths—was peculiar. He had expected them by now. Why hadn't they appeared? he thought, but the thought faded quickly as he shifted his focus forward. The only thing that mattered now was getting to the surface.
As they walked, the sound of their steps muffled by the stone, Belial glanced ahead. There were only a few more stairwells before they would emerge into daylight.
If I remember everything right from the game, he thought. We're almost there.
He felt the cool weight of the bioluminescent flowers in his hand, their faint glow hardly enough to light the path ahead. He couldn't remember what it felt like to be in the game. Was it like this? This overwhelming sense of déjà vu mixed with uncertainty? He thought back to the lantern he'd had in the game. Why didn't he have it now?
Slowly, Belial's pace began to slacken.
Something wasn't right.
The soft hum of the bioluminescent flowers gave way to an eerie quiet as the darkness around them thickened. The faint flicker of the lights from the flowers was all they had to guide them, but it barely pushed back the shadows that clung to every corner, every crevice. He took a step, then another, until his foot was brushing against something that didn't feel quite right.
Ahead, a narrow bridge appeared, half-collapsed, its stones jagged and precarious. The railing had long since crumbled away, and the abyss below seemed to stretch forever.
This can't be right, Belial thought, his breath catching in his chest. I don't remember this from the game. Was this always here?
His mind was whirling. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, but the only way was forward. His eyes darted to the others, who were still moving cautiously, unaware of the unease creeping into his bones.
The bridge felt flimsy beneath his boots, the stone creaking under the weight of his step. He shuddered, feeling the height more keenly now. The drop below appeared bottomless, an endless void that seemed to stare back at him with hungry eyes.
Just how big is this catacomb?
The thought ran through his mind again, and he couldn't help but compare it to the stories he'd read about long-forgotten oases, vast and towering, barely two floors tall. But this—this was different. This wasn't a place designed for life. It was a tomb, a prison, a labyrinth that sought to swallow them whole.
They passed the bridge in relative silence, the tension in the air almost tangible.
As they moved down the hallway that followed, Belial's mind raced. Every instinct told him something was coming, something terrible. He didn't know what it was, but it felt as if the very walls were closing in.
The group moved along the hallway, their right hands pressed against the cool stone walls. They moved with deliberate care, their footsteps barely audible. Belial didn't know why he had given that instruction—it had come from nowhere, like a reflex, a muscle memory from some far-off time. But as they pressed on, he couldn't help but notice how quiet everything had become. The usual hum of distant creatures, the soft shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of the wind—it was all gone. Only the sound of their breathing remained, ragged and shallow.
He raised the bioluminescent flower above his head, its glow illuminating a small circle in the thickening gloom. And then he saw it.
The abyss.
It wasn't just a void—it was something else.
As his flower's glow cast its faint light toward the edge of the abyss, the darkness shifted. It wasn't still, like the rest of the catacombs. It moved, undulated, as if something inside it was alive. Belial's breath caught in his throat. There was something down there. Something watching them.
Was it urgency? fear? his hand trembling as he pointed into the abyss.
His voice came out in a whisper, "Everyone, stop."
The others hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances, but obeyed his command. They turned to face the abyss, the edge of their bioluminescent flowers illuminating the dark depths below. But even with their lights, it was hard to see.
Then, the anxious man, a younger member of the group who had been trailing behind, stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. He lifted his own flower high above his head, but as soon as the faint light touched the abyss, he froze.
His face drained of color. "What—what is that?"
Before Belial could react, the anxious man stumbled back. His foot caught on a loose stone, and he collapsed, his body flailing wildly. The bioluminescent flower slipped from his hands, and for a brief, horrifying moment, Belial saw the light flicker as it tumbled into the abyss.
It was gone.
For a heartbeat, everything stood still. The flower's light had briefly illuminated the darkness below—and in that moment, Belial saw it.
The creature.
A figure, towering at least four meters, its monstrous form grotesque and lean. Its features were indiscernible in the darkness, but its sheer size and presence were undeniable. It didn't move. It just stood there, its gaze locking with Belial's direction, a silent promise of something terrible.
Belial's hand shot out, covering the anxious man's mouth before he could scream. His eyes widened in horror, the image of the monstrosity etched into his mind. The very air around them seemed to vibrate with the threat it posed.
"Stay quiet," Belial hissed, his voice low and shaky. But the man didn't respond—he couldn't, not with the terror that had gripped him.
Belial's heart pounded in his chest, the fear in his veins cold and sharp. There was no escape from this. There was no running.
They were trapped.