Hope stood still for a few moments, the echo of the battle behind him still ringing in his chest.
His breathing was steady now, his wounds completely gone, but his mind felt like a stirred pond—murky and full of ripples. That man… Michael. His image lingered in Hope's mind like a brand. Calm smile, blinding suit, hands behind his back, a slap that killed a corrupted devil in a single instant.
Hope had always known there were levels to power, but this... this was something else entirely.
"Hope," Massa called softly.
He turned his head slightly, watching her motion toward the water.
Nefer was already near the edge, crouched down and peering into the mirror-like surface of the small pool. Without a word, she dove in. Massa followed next, a quiet splash vanishing behind ripples.
Hope hesitated for half a breath longer, casting one last glance at the bloody battlefield behind them. Then, with a sigh, he dove in too.
The cold struck immediately—an all-consuming chill that wrapped around his body like icy vines. But the water wasn't murky—it was clear, unnaturally so. There were no fish, no plant life, no signs of anything alive. Just rock, cold pressure, and silence. It was unsettling. Almost reverent.
They swam downward, deeper and deeper, following the faint trail of bubbles Nefer left in her wake.
Time distorted underwater. It felt like minutes had passed, yet they were still diving. The pressure built in his ears, but he forced himself to focus.
Then he saw it—an opening, a black, jagged mouth in the stone.
A cave.
The water flowed toward it in a subtle current, and the trio followed, swimming through the narrow entrance and deeper into the hidden passage. The space began to widen, and soon Hope felt something hard beneath his feet.
Land.
They surfaced, gasping slightly, dragging themselves out of the water and into the hidden cave beyond.
Hope stood, water dripping from his body, and blinked against the dim light filtering in through the far end of the cave.
Then his eyes widened.
There it was.
A wall—no, a fence—that dominated the horizon beyond the cave's mouth. Towering, ancient, and vast, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. Iron and stone. Reinforced with power. It exuded presence like a sleeping giant. Guarded. Protected. Sealed.
It wasn't just a barrier.
It was a gateway.
Massa stepped up beside him, water still streaming from her green hair. She grinned, her breath catching a little.
"It seems we made it," she said softly. "Now our chances of conquering the Veil… they just shot up."
Nefer simply nodded, face composed but eyes sharp with resolution.
Hope sighed. He didn't know whether to feel relief, exhaustion, or growing dread.
Still, he followed as the three of them stepped out of the cave.
The fence seemed close, deceptively so.
But as they walked, minutes turned into nearly an hour. The dry, cracked ground beneath them crunched underfoot. The sun was dimmed here, shrouded in a perpetual haze, and the landscape was barren—rocky outcrops, patches of gray grass, a silence that felt watched.
Eventually, the massive gate came into focus. Dozens of awakened milled about near it—some coming, some leaving, others standing in line. The gate itself was a monstrous structure of black stone and mechanical constructs, operated by guards who bore weapons twice the size of normal greatswords. Their armor gleamed with runes and scars of battle.
As they approached, one of the guards—a burly man with a broad face and a sword as tall as he was—stepped forward.
He looked them over, eyes lingering briefly on Hope's empty belt.
"No soul core," he grunted. "No entry. One per person."
Hope's face twitched. He opened his mouth to explain, but stopped himself. Nefer glanced at him briefly, and Massa groaned under her breath.
Hope had traded his own soul cores to Nefer earlier in exchange for training. At the time, it made sense. Right now? Not so much.
Before anyone could argue, Massa stepped forward, her face hardening with annoyance. She raised her hand, palm up.
Three glimmering soul cores shimmered into existence—one for each of them.
The guard inspected them briefly, then gave a grunt of approval. "You're clear. You're newcomers, I take it?"
Hope nodded once.
"Register with the Citadel before nightfall," the guard instructed, gesturing toward a squat, square building just off the main road beyond the gates. "No registration, no rights. You'll be driven out before midnight."
Hope sighed again, but they nodded in unison and stepped past the towering gate.
The interior of the Citadel was nothing like the barren wastes outside. It was a sprawling fortress-city—a compound designed with brutal utility in mind. Metallic structures reinforced with dark stone. Training grounds. Forgebound shops. Market stalls. Barracks. Everything inside radiated discipline, survival, and hierarchy.
Hope could feel it instantly.
This wasn't just a stronghold.
It was a hub of power. A core where the strongest gathered. And soul cores—those shimmering crystals of absorbed strength—were clearly the blood that kept it alive.
They walked to the building marked Registration Center—a clean, rectangular structure with reinforced doors and a sigil carved into the frame that pulsed faintly with light.
Inside, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The walls were plain. The air was cold. Others were present—newcomers, like them—but none spoke. All stood in silence, waiting their turn, their expressions either weary or wary. Hope didn't like it.
At the front stood a woman behind a metal desk.
Yellow hair. Sharp, symmetrical features. Eyes like dull silver.
She didn't smile.
Didn't greet them.
Didn't care.
"We're here to register," Nefer said bluntly.
The woman gave a slow, silent nod, then picked up what looked like a pen—but it wasn't. Hope squinted. It shimmered, not with ink, but with memory. The aura around it was unsettling, like it had recorded a thousand names and every fate that followed.
"One soul core each," the woman said flatly.
Hope's eye twitched. Again?
Massa groaned audibly. "We just gave three to the guards."
"That was for entrance," the woman replied without even looking up. "Registration is separate. If you don't register before midnight, you'll be driven out."
She said it like she was discussing weather. No care. No emotion. Just fact.
Hope muttered under his breath, "Shameless…"
Massa gritted her teeth, but again, she stepped forward and summoned another set of three soul cores.
The woman accepted them wordlessly.
And finally—finally—she smiled.
Hope stared at the change in expression like she'd just morphed into a different person.
That smile wasn't warm.
It was transactional.
The Citadel had made one thing clear.
Here, soul cores were more than strength.
They were currency.