As the team went deeper, the surrounding darkness gradually began to erode the safe zone lit by their torches.
Along the way, they had seen towering, massive pillars carved with intricate patterns, still standing firm after countless years. They had seen walls worn down by time, their murals so faded it was impossible to tell what had once been drawn.
Chief Colin Iliad's expression never wavered. He did his best to instill confidence in his team.
During the journey, Annis and Anthony discovered a few things that looked useful. After going through the tedious identification procedures, some could still be used, but most had lost their function.
The unusable ones were either Beyonder materials that had already decomposed and been carried off by unknown creatures, or items with side effects too severe for the team to carry.
They had already taken several rests. With no clear distinction between day and night here, they had no idea how much time had passed. The deeper they went, the more intact the ruins became. The surroundings grew more luxurious.
"Giants usually built downward. The deeper the level, the higher the status. Tower-like structures couldn't support their massive bodies." Annis explained to the others. Though everyone knew this, it was worth repeating to keep it fresh in their minds. "Giants who owned six descending levels were nobles. We are currently heading to the sixth level, which means the former owner of these ruins was at least a noble of Sequence Five or higher."
"Of course, that doesn't guarantee there will be Sequence Five materials here. Don't get your hopes too high." Anthony added.
They arrived at an underground corridor, unusually well-preserved. Exquisite murals lined both sides, depicting giants battling dragons.
"Are there traps ahead?" Colin asked Borg.
Borg observed carefully for a while. "Doesn't seem so. My spirituality hasn't given any warnings."
Colin nodded, and the squad moved on.
Suddenly Borg spoke: "Stop." The short command carried top priority, second only to Colin's own orders.
Including Colin, everyone immediately froze in place. Even raised feet hung midair.
"My spiritual intuition tells me there's a massive danger zone up ahead—likely traps." Borg explained.
"How do we retreat?" Colin didn't backtrack blindly. He sought the professional's advice.
Borg tugged Annis back a step. "I, Annis, and the Chief can retreat. But the ones in front may already be locked by the trap."
No one spoke, waiting for him to continue.
"The trap will likely trigger if Stiyak steps back. I can't determine the exact effect."
Hunters often built "retreat traps"—prey sensing danger would naturally fall back, only to step right into the final snare. That was what they were facing now.
Colin stepped forward. "Tell me when to stop."
"Alright… stop." Borg called out.
Colin bypassed Anthony and Rat, reaching Stiac's side.
He drove his greatsword into the ground. From the blade, golden light spread outward like the first light of dawn, spreading across the ground, flowing past the three men in front and reaching Borg.
"Follow my command." Colin ordered flatly.
"Run!"
Stiac and the others immediately sprinted back. At the same time, the floor cracked open—but the golden light covering it held firm, preventing them from falling through.
Colin flashed behind the slowest runner, Anthony. At some point, the torch had passed into Rat's hands. In Colin's grip now was a second greatsword—deep crimson.
He braced his back against Anthony and kicked hard, launching him backward. At the same time, his crimson blade slashed down. Anthony tumbled through the air, rolling past Stiac and Rat, landing near Borg, who along with another quickly pulled him up.
Colin's sword clashed against a massive spiked meteor hammer that shot up from beneath the floor. Scarlet sparks erupted as golden light shattered. Colin was blasted into the air.
He reached out, and his first greatsword spun back into his hand. He swung downward, using the recoil to push himself higher.
But he quickly realized something was wrong. A small wind field had formed between him and the meteor hammer. A huge suction force was dragging him in—he had no foothold to resist in midair.
Rat threw the torch to Stiac. He stretched out both hands. With his left hand, he "stole" the distance between Colin and himself. With his right, he grabbed onto a thick, protruding spike of Colin's armor and yanked him backward. Colin was instantly pulled clear of the fissure and out of the meteor hammer's attack range.
The hammer adjusted, swinging straight down again.
"Left!" Rat shouted.
Everyone but Colin dodged left immediately.
Rat returned the stolen distance—right into the gap between the hammer and the left wall. The hammer was forced to shift right. Colin lunged forward, slamming his blade into the hammer's side.
Clang! The hammer was knocked off course, smashing into the right-hand wall and shattering the exquisite mural.
Borg, who had been leaning against the wall, suddenly felt something grab him. He immediately ignited his entire body in flames, wrapping himself in fire like armor. The sensation of restraint vanished, and he rolled forward on the ground before turning back.
His shadow—somehow—had come alive. It peeled itself off the wall. A pure-black, shadowy version of Borg stood there, burning with black flames.
At some point, the corridor itself had transformed into a grotesque mass of writhing flesh, black and scarlet intertwining, rotten meat squirming.
Eyes, oozing with pus, opened across the flesh. The cracked openings ahead widened into fang-filled mouths. The meteor hammer sprouted a dozen writhing tongues.
No wonder Borg hadn't sensed danger earlier—the entire corridor had long since been fused and polluted by the beyonder characteristics of its former owner, a being of demigod rank.
From deeper within came incomprehensible, maddening whispers. A massive head crawled out like a spider. It was so large it filled the corridor. Its neck trailed dozens of arms.
The head tilted back, gazing at them. It had only a single eye—huge, filling almost its entire upper face where two eyes should be. There was no eyeball, only writhing tentacles where the pupil should be.
Its mouth opened, and the whispers grew louder, maddening.
"Close your eyes!" Colin's voice was no longer calm—he roared.
Those whose bodies had already begun to warp from glimpsing the incomplete mythic creature forced their eyes shut and huddled together. The Guardian, closest to demigod level, layered protective armor over them. Anthony poured out everything he had in calming power.
They had been wrong. Yes, this underground structure belonged to royalty. Yes, it had once been the domain of a demigod.
But it had not belonged to a Sequence Four Demon Hunter.
It belonged to a Black Knight.
Anticipate it. Listen well. The giant hammer is about to strike! Let the bells of Preservation toll long and loud. Listen to the grand and tragic hymn. All shall be offered—to the Amber King!
(End of Chapter)