Arzael's steps came to an abrupt halt right at the jagged edge of a bottomless, blackened cliff. The earth beneath his boots felt rough and dry, brittle like burnt bones.
From the void below, thick coils of smoke curled upward in slow, hypnotic swirls, twisting into shapes that almost resembled the breath of some ancient, slumbering monster hidden deep within the abyss.
The stench was acrid, metallic, and heavy, clinging to his lungs with every breath.
"Gatewalk…" he murmured under his breath, his voice nearly swallowed by the oppressive silence around him. His eyes lowered to his palm, fingers curling slightly as if trying to feel the faint, invisible pulse of the skill.
It was only at level one, an infant stage. The information he had was scarce, almost useless. All he truly knew was its singular, frustrating limitation: he could only teleport from the Overworld to Layer 1.
His mind itched with the possibilities. If it reached level two… maybe I could pierce through to Layer 2? he thought, the idea blooming like a faint spark in darkness, only to be snuffed out by doubt.
A slow, heavy exhale escaped him, his breath mingling with the hot, sulphur-tainted air rising from below.
"Or… do I need to defeat the ruler of Layer 1 to unlock access?" His question, though spoken aloud, found no answer in the still, suffocating emptiness.
He let his gaze wander across the dark horizon, eyes narrowing against the red glow bleeding from the sky. Layer 1 stretched endlessly in all directions, no signs of life, just an oppressive expanse under a sky the color of fresh blood.
"If even the boss is nowhere to be found, I won't find it even until doomsday…" he muttered, his voice carrying the subtle weight of frustration.
Drawing a slow breath, he looked down into the abyss once more. The smoke below churned restlessly, like something alive and watching.
"What is really happening here?" The question echoed in his thoughts, lingering like an itch he couldn't scratch.
For several long moments, he simply stood there, still as stone. The oppressive air pressed against him, and the faint vibration beneath his feet made the silence feel louder. Eventually, his resolve crumbled, and the decision came easily.
"Enough," he whispered. "Let's return to the Overworld first."
He raised his hand with a slow, deliberate motion. Space itself seemed to ripple, and a blackish-red portal bloomed above him like a wound tearing open in reality.
[Gatewalk – Activate]
The dark mist crawled over his body, coiling around him like chains made of shadow.
His form grew indistinct, edges blurring, until he was swallowed whole by the darkness, vanishing from the Underworld like a candle snuffed out in a storm.
Night had already claimed the Overworld. It was a deep, velvet silence broken only by the occasional distant creak of wooden beams settling in the cold. Arzael materialized in the modest inn room in a faint shimmer of dim, black glow that quickly faded into the shadows.
The oil lamp in the far corner flickered weakly, its flame trembling with every slight draft, casting restless shadows that danced along the rough stone walls.
His gaze shifted to the bed, soft, inviting, and already claimed. Seraphina lay on her side, her silver hair spilling across the pillow like moonlight frozen in silk. Her breathing was steady, a quiet, rhythmic sound almost like a lullaby.
Arzael's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, followed by a sigh. "…Alright then."
He didn't bother disturbing her. Instead, he lowered himself to the cold floor, the chill of the stone seeping into his bones almost instantly. The day's exhaustion, battles fought, distance crossed, and the toll of moving between worlds, dragged at his consciousness. His eyelids grew heavy almost immediately.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to push away the weight pressing on his mind. "Why do I have to keep being like this?" he whispered into the darkness.
Seraphina shifted faintly in the bed, but no words followed. The silence returned.
Morning arrived quietly. The first sensation that roused Arzael wasn't light or sound, but warmth, an unfamiliar, almost soothing heat spreading across his chest.
Blinking his eyes open, he found Seraphina kneeling beside him, her pale fingertip resting lightly against the wound he had carried from the night before.
That same wound, which had burned and throbbed only hours ago, was sealing itself shut before his eyes.
The raw skin knit together, leaving behind a faint, silvery scar that faded more with every heartbeat.
"Seraphina?" His voice was rough, tinged with disbelief. "How is this possible?"
She looked at him with a calm, almost blank expression. "I don't know. I woke up, saw you injured. When I touched… your wound just closed."
For a moment, Arzael said nothing, simply staring at her. Then a small smile tugged at his lips. "Oh, really? Maybe because I'm also… a curse, your effect actually heals me."
Tilting his head with a half-joking tone, he added, "Buying you wasn't in vain."
Seraphina only gave a slight nod. "If so… good." Her reply was short, and without lingering another second, she rose to her feet, her movements smooth and unhurried.
Arzael's brow furrowed faintly. "You really are mysterious, Seraphina."
She met his gaze evenly. "Mystery keeps distance."
He let the words sink in before nodding slowly. "Then I will keep trying to understand."
Later, they sat at a small wooden table in the inn's modest dining room. The air was warm with the scent of fresh bread and boiling soup. In front of them sat simple plates, slices of wheat bread and bowls of steaming broth.
Arzael spooned soup lazily, eyes drifting to her. "You saved someone's life, but your face stays so expressionless?"
Seraphina looked back with an unchanging gaze. "Am I supposed to smile?"
He grinned faintly. "Well… so it doesn't feel like eating with a statue."
Her brow lifted the slightest fraction. "If I smile, will you stop teasing me?" she asked softly.
A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Maybe."
She gave a small nod, almost imperceptibly pleased.
"Okay, okay… a beautiful statue is still a statue," he said, shaking his head with a faint laugh.
When breakfast was done, they stepped outside into the heart of Eterna Kingdom. Morning sunlight poured down like molten gold, gleaming off the white stone rooftops and casting crisp shadows across the cobbled streets.
The market was alive with activity. Merchants stood behind stalls draped with colorful cloth, their voices loud and persistent as they hawked fruits, fabrics, trinkets, and spices.
Different races mingled seamlessly, some bargaining loudly, others strolling leisurely.
The smell of grilled meat mingled with the sweet scent of fresh pastries, while somewhere in the distance, the soft strumming of a lute floated through the air.
Seraphina kept close to him, her shoulders slightly tense, her head turning just enough to take in the bustle without making it obvious.
"You're not used to crowded places, right?" Arzael asked, glancing at her.
"I… have never been outside to places like this," she admitted without meeting his eyes.
He studied her quietly. They shared more than a passing resemblance, perhaps even similar scars in their pasts.
Though her expression was as still as always, her eyes betrayed a subtle shift, a flicker of curiosity breaking through her practiced detachment.
"Then today…" he said with a faint smile, "we'll walk until you get used to it."
Her brow arched slightly. "For what?"
"So you won't be this stiff tomorrow," he replied easily.
Seraphina's gaze returned to the crowd, but she nodded softly.
They moved through the market at an unhurried pace, pausing now and then to examine the wares. Sometimes Arzael would buy her a small snack, a honey-dipped pastry, a skewer of roasted meat, a handful of candied nuts.
Each time, she accepted in silence, studying the food for a heartbeat before eating, as if committing its taste and texture to memory.
"You hold onto every little thing very carefully, don't you?" he observed.
She gave a small shrug. "Sometimes, little things are the only things I can hold onto."
Arzael smiled faintly at that, feeling an unspoken truth in her words. There was something in Seraphina, something hidden far deeper than the world would ever notice at a glance.