The upper layer—the surface of the chasm—was a distraction. What nestled beneath the ground was a far more harrowing disaster.
The depths stretched wide, a pit swallowed by the heaps of countless bones piling over the edge. With the Chasm Dweller's unraveling, much of the ceiling had collapsed, yet the sheer number of bones still managed to block most of the dim light filtering down from the dark sky.
That eerie luminescence cast a subtle glow, allowing his vision to pierce through the gloom. Beyond that, the darkness wasn't nearly as suffocating as it used to be when he was younger.
He could see—at least to a degree.
The underground lair of the Dweller was a macabre place, seemingly formed by natural means yet littered with nothing but bones.
Calling the damn creature gluttonous would have been an understatement compared to the grotesque reality before him.
Among the remains, Auren noticed torn and shredded garments, their fabric aged and brittle from the dry winds of time. He picked up a few pieces, tying them together in an attempt to improvise a shirt.
The cold, even in this underground expanse, gnawed at his skin. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would be once he stepped outside.
Managing to fashion something resembling a cloak—or at least a poor excuse for one—he draped it over his back and tied it at his neck. Though ragged and barely worth a glance, the makeshift covering still managed to shroud most of his exposed skin, its tattered ends swaying as he moved.
He walked forward, surveying his surroundings, but found little of interest—except for a brown, weathered bag, long abandoned.
Someone else had been here.
Someone who had probably been thrown down like he was.
Auren's mind drifted back to the two knights.
Could they be responsible?
'They must have a higher chain of command—a chain they were trying to deliver me to.'
Speaking of chains…
Auren finally spotted something that might help him break free. Sitting against the wall was a long stone hammer, and beside it, what looked like an anvil.
Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the space again.
To the north, embedded in the cavern wall, a smaller chasm yawned slightly—its edges weathered and darkened like the surrounding stone. The same charred blackness stained the hammer, the anvil, and the walls enclosing the depth.
Auren had spent a lot of time around smithies. His love for swords extended beyond wielding them—he was fascinated by their craftsmanship, often sneaking out of his father's estate to watch blacksmiths at work.
That was why, even at a glance, he recognized what this was.
The ruins of a forge.
A place that had once thrived but had since been reduced to nothing—charred, blackened, and swallowed by unforgiving flames.
Auren sighed and took the hammer. For a moment, its weight threatened to drag his arms downward, forcing him to instinctively tighten his grip and channel more strength into his hold.
He planted one foot onto the anvil, stretching the chain to its absolute limit.
Then, he hoisted the hammer and brought it crashing down on the middle link of the chains. The impact sent a brutal vibration through his body, rattling his bones. For an instant, his skin gleamed with a dark, metallic sheen—fleeting, almost imperceptible.
Pain flared through his limbs, but he sucked it in and struck again.
And again.
And again.
The relentless blows echoed through the cavern until—finally—the chains snapped apart with a sharp, metallic crack.
But something strange happened.
[You have gained a Shard.]
'Huh?' His brow furrowed. 'I didn't kill anything, though.'
Auren grimaced as he watched the broken chains dissolve into a rain of black sparks. A shudder crawled up his spine as he realized—he could feel them now, lingering somewhere deep within the cursed depths of his soul.
Still, he shook off his unease. He wasn't free yet.
Tilting his head slightly, he extended the remaining chains still shackling his wrists. Now, he had to wield the hammer with one hand.
It would be harder, but the anvil made the process easier. A sword wouldn't have been able to do the job—he was lucky to have found this forge.
Exhaling slowly, Auren lifted the hammer again.
He brought it down.
A shudder rippled through his body, raw force nearly jolting him off balance. The black metallic sheen flickered across his skin once more, vanishing in the same instant.
But he ignored it.
He kept striking.
Blow after blow, relentless as the cold.
Until, at last, the chains shattered.
The moment the metal broke apart, the same words appeared before his eyes.
[You have gained a Shard.]
Auren tilted his head, rubbing his reddened wrists before summoning the runes tied to these new Shards.
The first inscription materialized before him.
[Shard]
Name: [Shackles of Depravity]
Type: [Unknown]
Grade: [Abyssal]
Level: 0
Description: These chains once bound the hands of a Forger of the Celestial Railways. But he was cursed, and he fell into depravity.
Auren shifted slightly, his expression tightening in puzzlement.
Summoning the next rune, he read it carefully.
[Shard]
Name: [Shackles of Depravity]
Type: [Unknown]
Grade: [Abyssal]
Level: 0
Description: These chains once bound the legs of a Forger of the Celestial Railways. But he was cursed, and he fell into depravity.
'Why am I gaining shards without lilling any cursed creatures?'
Something about this felt… off.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it. Not yet.
Finally, free. He had to go out of the chasm, and most importantly, he had to survive and finish this trial.