Elion walked, his legs feeling like they might give out. He had climbed up and down for days, descending deeper with every step. At first, he tried to keep a mental image of the terrain based on the maps he had memorized, but at some point, everything stopped making sense—like the ground itself was shifting.
A few days back, someone fell slightly behind. Their light had vanished into the dark. It took several seconds before anyone noticed. Everyone was too exhausted.
That person was never seen again.
Even Bright Light, usually unreadable, looked uncertain, now. He radiated power and confidence, yet there was hesitation in his eyes. Yeri kept poring over the maps, her brow furrowed, tension rising among the newly Unlocked.
"Do they even know where we're going?"
"Shhh, keep your voice down, Sir Bright Light wouldn't fail. It must be a temporary setback."
"If you say so… but I still can't get over Yel's disappearance yesterday…"
Idiots. They put way too much faith in another human.
Elion would be lying if he said he didn't want to leave things entirely to Bright Light—to trust blindly in someone stronger—but he knew better.
Now, he was searching for Eshrod and Farha, the two he considered strong enough to be useful in a crisis. The ones he somewhat trusted.
Well, at least he believed they trusted him.
He spotted Eshrod's general position in the formation—her group was close—but Farha was still nowhere to be seen. He was starting to wonder if she was even with them.
Elion shook his head.
No, she's here. She has to be. She needs to find the First Finger too.
Joart caught up to him, wearing his usual fake smile. It disappeared quickly when he saw Elion wasn't buying it.
"Did you feel the shift in the air?" he whispered.
They weren't exactly close, but they'd exchanged some idle conversation along the way. Elion had figured out early on that Joart was mostly fishing for information about Eshrod since he knew the two had been close back in S33.
"Yeah, something's coming," the young cook replied, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
Bright Light halted the expedition with a quiet gesture. The First Fingers moved into formation around him, ready for combat.
But something was terribly wrong this time. The subtle drop in temperature. The way the world seemed to blur, as if bending to someone's—or something's—will.
"Shit!" Elion hissed as the Voice of God whispered in his ear:
[Class: V]
A gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth appeared, putrid saliva dripping in long strands onto the stone. The thing approached the edge of their light slowly—its horrible features becoming clearer with each step.
Elion's breathing turned ragged. His heart struggled to keep beating.
The creature's face—if it could be called that—was a sickly grey, stretched into something resembling a twisted grin. Four blank white eyes stared forward, unblinking. One of them rolled inward, revealing a single black dot that locked onto Bright Light's glowing silhouette.
It dragged itself forward with arms like massive pillars. Patches of matted dark fur clung to its diseased skin. As it closed in, more eyes rolled into place, all focusing on their radiant leader.
Still cloaked in shadow, the abomination lunged. Its muscles writhed beneath the hide, shifting like a nest of parasitic worms.
A colossal limb crashed down where Bright Light stood, the impact thundering through the air and kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
Flashes of white light erupted in the haze, and one word pierced the chaos:
"Run."
That single word shattered Elion's paralysis. But most of the newly Unlocked remained frozen, their faces locked in expressions of pure dread.
As he moved, he felt a stabbing pain in his foot, piercing straight through his boot. He looked down, his face paling more than it already was.
A long and serpentine creature was latched onto him, its sharp fangs piercing the though leather of his boots, leeching blood. Worse—a tide of them writhed closer from the dark.
The Voice of God marked them all as Class V. It was safe to assume they were part of the larger abomination Bright Light was fighting.
Elion slashed downward, bursting the leech in a spray of blood, but he already felt faint.
Gunfire cracked in the distance.
Impossible. None of the First Fingers caried firearms, I would've noticed if they had. It must've been a newly Unlocked…
But there was no time to think. The tide was already nearly on them.
Elion sprinted toward Eshrod, Joart trailing close behind. Screams echoed from the rear, mixing with the chaos at the front.
When he reached her, things were already falling apart.
"We need to run!" he shouted.
"Thanks for the warning, genius. And how exactly do you suggest we do that?" she snapped, plunging her sword into a leech trying to take a bite out of her leg.
"We cut through left. It's where they're thinnest."
He would know—he'd used his ability to see it, earning himself a throbbing headache. Even if he'd grown more tolerant of it, gazing at multiple things at once was never kind to his mind.
Eshrod looked toward the path he indicated and nodded.
"Alright. Let's go."
Joart, Elion, and Eshrod charged the left flank, carving through the mass of leeches. Some latched onto them, biting deep, but they moved too fast for any to cling for long.
A few lucid Unlocked caught on to their strategy and joined them. Together, they hacked a brutal path toward whatever safety, if any, lay beyond the swarm.
Elion noticed Eshrod's sword arm had turned pitch black, writhing with unsettling energy. Her strikes grew faster, more violent and cleaved through the horde like a whirlwind.
Even so, it wasn't enough. The creatures kept coming. Their injuries mounted. And worst of all—the radiant flashes from Bright Light's fight were dimming.
It's a miracle they've lasted this long against a Class V.
Elion risked a glance back. His eyes widened in horror.
Yeri's body lay twisted on the stone, her lower half gone. One hand reached forward, fingers trembling, as blood spread in a widening pool. Bright Light still stood, but his right arm was missing. His green uniform was soaked in dark red.
The abomination he faced bore scorch marks—but they were shallow and insignificant.
A massive limb came crashing down toward the weakened leader. Elion turned away before seeing what happened, focusing instead on the carnage ahead. The only thing he noticed was the light—once strong—now growing weaker, devoured by the gloom.
At that moment, he felt it. An unfathomable pressure crushed him. The Class V had turned its attention toward their group.
It was as if its gaze alone could erase their will to live.
It's over… I'm dead.
Elion swung his sword numbly, blindly.
"Get yourself together! This isn't over!" Eshrod shouted.
Then, gunfire lit up the darkness once more. A graceful figure rushed past him, her wavy black hair streaming behind her. She didn't say a word. The muzzle of her rifle flashed repeatedly as she cleared a path through the creatures.
Her presence turned the tide, giving them just enough of an edge.
They ran.
Elion's entire body screamed in agony. Fear clawed at his chest. The only thing he could do was run. That's when he heard a noise, the low roar of rushing water.
Behind them, the creature's approach shook the earth.
And in front of them there was nothing.
The ledge dropped off into an open void. Only the sound of water echoed from below.
Elion's heart seized.
Every instinct screamed to stop—but instead, he shouted:
"Jump!"
His feet left stone, and the abyss swallowed him whole.