The figure descending from the sky was an elderly man whose hair blazed like molten fire. Each crimson strand seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight, giving the impression that his very presence was a smoldering flame drifting down from the heavens.
"Humph." His voice was low, heavy with disdain. "No matter your talent, boy, you are but a toy before a true Magus. I may not be able to eliminate you directly… but there are other means. Your secrets will be mine soon enough."
The man—Erick—hovered in the air, his eyes narrowing on the mouth of the cavern where Zatiel and Sophia had vanished moments earlier. His face was twisted into a complex mask: anger, jealousy, and a faint shadow of regret all warred for dominance.
Zatiel was young, frighteningly so for the level of power he already wielded. If left unchecked, he could ascend to Magus status in the near future. Erick, by contrast, stood at the edge of his own decline. His hope of ever advancing to Rank 2 had long withered. Time was no longer an ally—it was a reminder that his prime had passed.
Although Clyde is a threat, if I erase all evidence of my involvement, he'll have nothing to use against me. The family patriarch won't allow him to harm me without proof.
His aura flared slightly at the thought, a reminder of the ruthless calculations that governed his every move. Erick had spent decades maneuvering pawns, sacrificing others for his benefit. This would be no different.
The Magi World was vast beyond comprehension, its depths rivaling its surface in scope. This was no simple crust and core—the world was layered, each stratum a realm unto itself. The surface was the most hospitable, home to the great towers, kingdoms, and the three dominant powers. But far below… life thrived in darkness.
These subterranean realms were home to civilizations entirely their own—human and non-human alike—many of whom had chosen exile beneath the earth to escape the dominance of the surface powers. Refugees, outcasts, and predators alike had carved out niches in the shadows.
To the surface dwellers, all of these depths were collectively known as the Underground Zone, though each layer bore its own name and character.
Zatiel and Sophia had entered through one of the wider surface caves, their destination the first layer of the Underground. The darkness within the cave was oppressive, yet neither was hindered by it. Zatiel's enhanced vision pierced the gloom effortlessly, while Sophia's own elemental affinity attuned her to the faint glimmers of light reflecting off the damp walls.
That coward wouldn't dare face me openly, Zatiel thought coldly. He's likely made arrangements with some of the creatures down here. As for how he knew I'd entered… there must be a mole in the tower.
The thought brought a flicker of genuine anger to his eyes. He had no patience for backroom scheming from those too weak to act directly.
Before, I simply intended to end you quickly, Erick. But now… perhaps "He" would enjoy the taste of a Rank 1 Magus.
Sophia's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "What's wrong?"
He glanced at her, momentarily puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"You've been… different since we came down here," she said. "Is something going on?" Her tone was careful, but there was real concern there—a flicker of unease that perhaps her companion had been compromised.
Zatiel let the tension ease from his expression. "Some matters are harder to leave behind than others. Don't worry. I'm fine."
She studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but chose not to press the matter further.
After several hours of travel, the cave widened, and they stepped into the first layer proper—known as the Wastelands.
It was a sprawling expanse of jagged terrain and fractured plateaus. Though they were far underground, the sheer size of the cavernous ceiling gave the impression of a boundless sky—if that "sky" were studded with clusters of luminous stone rather than stars. These glowing mineral formations clung to both the ceiling and the walls, casting a dim, cold light across the barren ground.
Here, the air was still and heavy. Life existed, but in harsher, leaner forms than on the surface. Most inhabitants of the Wastelands were weaker species—those unwilling or unable to venture into the deeper, far more dangerous layers.
"We'll need to gather certain materials from this layer before moving on," Zatiel said, scanning the terrain. "After that, we'll make contact with a few of the local tribes. Stay close to me at all times."
"I understand," Sophia replied. Her voice was steady now.
Satisfied, Zatiel activated the mental link to his A.I. Chip.
Use the Underground Zone data I acquired from the tower to chart the most efficient route for material collection and planned encounters.
He had spent considerable time studying before the descent, memorizing the geography and known hazards of this region. That preparation now paid off as the chip processed the information.
[Bip… scanning environment. Determining optimal route… Task complete. Displaying to host.]
A faint, glowing line appeared in his vision, tracing a path through the uneven terrain.
"Let's move," he said, and together they followed the line for several hours until the ground rose into a series of small mountains.
Narrow caves dotted their slopes, and at several entrances, figures moved—small, reptilian humanoids with scaly hides and elongated snouts.
Kobolds.
Their kind was infamous in the Underground—offspring of long-diluted dragon bloodlines, now reduced to petty tribal scavengers. They were territorial, aggressive, and highly suspicious of outsiders.
Most of these should be between Rank 2 and Rank 3 apprentice level, Zatiel noted, gauging their auras. And there are… roughly a hundred inside.
Sophia swallowed. "Are we… here to kill them?"
"No." Zatiel shook his head. "Our target is a mineral deep in those mountains. Killing them would be pointless. Despite their ancestry, their blood is too thin to yield even a drop of dragon essence. What I need are miners."
Her brows rose. "You expect them to work for you willingly?"
"They'll work," he said, his tone certain. "When the choice is between death and obedience, most creatures make the same decision."
She hesitated, imagining him storming the mountain alone. Even with his strength, the thought was difficult to picture.
Zatiel ignored her doubt and issued a new command. A.I. Chip, scan both of us.
[Bip… Analyzing host. Strength: 12.3. Physique: 14.8. Speed: 11.9. Abyss Aura: 15.7.]
His stats had risen dramatically thanks to his constant consumption of magical creatures and rune crafting. Reaching a Spirit Force of 15 was the threshold for a human apprentice to be considered a pseudo-Magus, ready to attempt advancement. For a Neo-Demon, however, the requirement was a full 20 points—a gap that demanded far greater effort and far richer sources of energy.
[Bip… Scanning subject: Sophia. Strength: 5.1. Physique: 4.6. Speed: 5.3. Spirit Force: 7.3. Body status: Severe deformation present. Advancement to Rank 1 life form unlikely due to contamination.]
So that's it… The contamination grants her unnatural physical strength without the training to match, but it poisons her energy and constitution.
He filed the knowledge away. There were ways to help her, but now was not the time.
"Stay behind me," he instructed, striding openly toward the kobold-guarded caves.
Sophia hesitated, then followed.
The kobolds spotted them instantly. Harsh, guttural cries rang out as they waved crude weapons and called to their kin. Within moments, a dozen warriors had gathered and were charging down the slope toward the intruders.
Zatiel did not draw a weapon, nor did he cast a spell. Instead, he let the full weight of his Abyss Aura roll outward, intertwining it with the crushing force of his magnetic field.
The effect was immediate.
The kobolds froze mid-stride, their bodies locking up as if invisible chains had bound their limbs. Fear flickered in their eyes—raw, instinctive, and unshakable.
As Zatiel advanced, the would-be attackers began to retreat, step by trembling step.