The cavern widened into a cathedral of stone and light. Jagged pillars jutted upward, wrapped in veins of crystal that pulsed faintly, as though the mountain itself had a heartbeat. The glow spilled across Jinwoo's face, sharpening the angular shadows beneath his tired eyes.
He paused near the entrance, brushing a hand along the damp rock, careful not to touch the glowing shards. Every flicker of light carried meaning to him—patterns, rhythms, data waiting to be decoded.
Then came the echo of footsteps.
Measured, steady, not rushed. Whoever approached was confident, or skilled enough to feign it.
From the far side, a figure emerged. His cloak was worn but not tattered, his staff crowned with a shard that shimmered like trapped lightning. The man studied Jinwoo, his expression calm, assessing.
"You move like someone who knows where the Abyss hides its teeth," the stranger said, his voice smooth, carrying easily across the cavern.
Jinwoo adjusted the strap of his satchel, his tone flat but edged. "Or like someone who doesn't want to die screaming in a hole. Take your pick."
The stranger's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Ravien," he said simply, tapping the butt of his staff against the stone. Sparks of violet rippled outward, skittering across the crystals. "Explorer. Scholar. Occasionally, survivor. And you?"
Jinwoo let the silence stretch before answering. His eyes flicked to the staff, then back to the man's face. "Names are debts. I don't hand them out to strangers."
"Prudent," Ravien acknowledged with a faint nod. "The Abyss doesn't forgive the careless."
The two men stood in the glow, the crystals thrumming between them like veins of thought.
Finally, Ravien tilted his head. "You've been reading the patterns here, haven't you?"
Jinwoo's brow arched. "Reading?" His lips curved faintly, almost mocking. "The Abyss doesn't write in words. It shifts, it hums, it breathes. I interpret."
Ravien chuckled softly, his tone dry. "Semantics. Still—most walk blind. You… you notice."
"Noticing is cheaper than bleeding." Jinwoo's gaze flicked to the cavern floor, where faint scorch marks trailed toward a collapsed passage. He pointed with a gloved finger. "Someone bled there. Recently."
Ravien followed his gesture, his expression sharpening. "A party of three. Two days ago. Thought the crystals stored raw mana they could harvest. They cracked one open."
"And?"
"They screamed for an hour before the Abyss swallowed them." Ravien's voice carried no sorrow, only the weight of someone who had seen such things too often.
Jinwoo studied him carefully. Ravien's eyes didn't flinch, didn't waver. He was telling the truth—or he was an exceptional liar. Either way, Jinwoo filed it away as data.
"You don't look shaken," Jinwoo observed.
"I learned early not to mourn fools," Ravien replied, stepping closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. "Survival in this place isn't about strength. It's about clarity."
The two locked eyes, silence stretching between them until the crystals hummed louder, as though the Abyss itself were listening.
Ravien broke the quiet. "You're not here by accident. People who stumble this deep don't walk with your composure."
"And you don't ask questions you don't already know the answers to," Jinwoo countered. His voice was calm, almost bored, but his hand brushed the pouch at his belt, where glass vials clinked faintly.
Ravien noticed. His smirk returned. "Poisons? Or remedies?"
"Depends who drinks."
The staff bearer laughed softly, the sound bouncing strangely in the chamber. "Good. I prefer companions with teeth. Too many would-be allies collapse the first time the Abyss bares its jaws."
"I didn't say I was your companion," Jinwoo said.
"Not yet," Ravien agreed easily. "But perhaps you should be. The paths ahead are not meant to be walked alone."
Jinwoo's gaze swept the glowing pillars. Each crystal vein pulsed in uneven rhythms, flickering like a heartbeat under stress. Something about them was wrong—subtle shifts he hadn't noticed until now.
"What are they?" he asked, more to himself than to Ravien.
The man tapped his staff lightly, and the crystals shivered in response. "Veins," Ravien murmured. "Not of stone. Of memory. The Abyss stores echoes here—traces of what it consumes."
Jinwoo's jaw tightened. "Echoes."
"You can hear them, can't you?" Ravien's voice dropped, almost conspiratorial. "If you listen too long, the whispers seep into your thoughts. They twist them, bend them. The three who bled here? They didn't just shatter stone. They shattered silence."
A faint vibration crawled up Jinwoo's spine. He exhaled slowly, steadying his mind. He had heard something—faint, like voices carried from far away, but not in any tongue he knew. A pattern, irregular, unfinished.
He masked his reaction behind a flat stare. "If this place whispers, then why linger?"
"Because whispers carry knowledge," Ravien said. His eyes gleamed in the violet glow. "Dangerous, yes. But knowledge is always dangerous. It's the only kind worth having."
Jinwoo studied him again, weighing risk against utility. Ravien was dangerous—confident, informed, and unshaken by horror. But dangerous tools were sometimes the most useful.
Finally, Jinwoo said, "If you slow me down, I leave you."
Ravien's smirk widened into something sharper. "Fair. And if you betray me, I'll kill you quickly."
The cavern seemed to pulse with their words, as though acknowledging the bargain.
Neither man offered a handshake. In the Abyss, pacts were made in words, not gestures.
They moved deeper together, silent but alert. Crystals pulsed along the walls, their glow dimming as though retreating from their steps. The air thickened, heavy with unseen weight.
After a long silence, Ravien glanced at him. "You never gave me a name."
"Jinwoo," he said finally. His voice was low, but steady. "Remember it, if you live long enough."
Ravien grinned. "I intend to."
And the Abyss whispered, faint and hungry, as their footsteps carried them into its throat.
The tunnel narrowed as they descended, the glow of the crystals fading until the only light came from the shard on Ravien's staff. The air grew colder, carrying a metallic tang that clung to the back of the throat.
Ravien broke the silence first.
"Most who come this far die long before they see veins this deep. Tell me, Jinwoo—what keeps you moving? Curiosity, greed, or desperation?"
Jinwoo adjusted his pace, eyes scanning the uneven floor. "None of those. I don't chase things. I dissect them."
Ravien's brow lifted. "Dissect?"
"You look at the Abyss and see a mystery. I see a patient on a table, waiting to be cut open. Every organ, every secretion, every infection—something to examine, catalog, and use."
A low chuckle slipped from Ravien. "Cold words, but honest. You sound like the Abyss itself."
Jinwoo didn't answer. His eyes caught movement—thin filaments dangling from the ceiling, shimmering faintly like strands of glass. He raised a hand. "Stop."
Ravien obeyed without question. "What do you see?"
"Threads. Don't touch them."
The scholar tilted his head, studying the strands. "Ah. Webs. Not natural."
Jinwoo crouched, pulling a small vial from his satchel. Inside, a dark liquid sloshed softly. He dipped the tip of a needle and flicked a single drop onto the nearest filament.
The thread sizzled. The entire web quivered, vibrating outward into the darkness.
Ravien's grip on his staff tightened. "You've woken it."
"Better me than it," Jinwoo muttered, sliding the vial away. He rose smoothly, eyes fixed on the shadows ahead.
From the dark tunnel came a chittering sound, sharp and layered, like hundreds of knives scraping bone. Then the first glint appeared—many eyes, reflecting the shard's light.
A massive shape unfolded from the ceiling, its body segmented, armored in plates that shimmered faintly with the same crystal hue as the cavern walls.
Ravien inhaled sharply. "Chasm Weaver."
The beast dropped, legs striking the ground with a sound like cracking stone. Its mandibles opened, dripping iridescent fluid that hissed where it struck the rock.
Ravien lifted his staff. Lightning crackled along the crystal shard, ready to strike. "We fight, or we flee?"
Jinwoo's lips curved faintly. "Fight. Always fight. Fleeing is information lost."
The Weaver lunged.
Ravien unleashed a bolt of violet lightning, striking the creature's side. The blast left blackened scorch marks but didn't pierce the shell. The Weaver shrieked, its voice splitting the air, and swung a leg the size of a spear toward them.
Jinwoo rolled aside, smooth and precise, landing on one knee. His hand darted to his belt, pulling free a glass tube filled with pale smoke. With a flick, he hurled it at the Weaver's face.
The tube shattered. Smoke burst outward, clinging to the creature's mandibles. The shrieking turned to a distorted rasp, its movements jerking erratically.
Ravien's eyes widened. "What—?"
"Disruptor gas. Attacks the nerves," Jinwoo said quickly, already reaching for another vial. "It won't kill. But it'll make the next cut easier."
The Weaver staggered, striking walls in wild arcs. Shards of crystal rained from above, cracking against the floor.
Ravien pressed forward, staff glowing brighter. "Then I'll carve the cut."
He slammed the staff down, sending a surge of energy through the cavern floor. Crystals along the walls pulsed in answer, releasing jagged bursts of light. The Weaver shrieked, momentarily blinded.
Jinwoo darted in, a knife flashing in his hand. Not a blade of steel—thin, surgical, curved to slice with precision. He drove it into the gap between the Weaver's plates, just under the joint of its front leg.
The creature convulsed violently. Jinwoo twisted the blade, then pulled free, black ichor spraying across his coat.
"Now!" he barked.
Ravien lifted the staff high, chanting words that resonated like thunder in the ribcage. Lightning speared downward, slamming into the wound Jinwoo had opened. The ichor ignited, burning with unnatural blue fire.
The Weaver let out one final, fractured cry before collapsing, its armored body splitting with sharp cracks. The smell of scorched chitin filled the air.
Jinwoo stepped back, wiping ichor from his face with a cloth, movements steady, unfazed. "Not efficient, but effective."
Ravien lowered his staff, chest heaving slightly. He studied Jinwoo, his expression unreadable. "You don't just fight. You prepare. Every move calculated."
"I don't like improvisation," Jinwoo replied simply. "Improvisation is sloppy. Sloppy gets you killed."
Ravien gave a short laugh. "Then perhaps we'll both live longer than most. My power, your precision—it's almost poetic."
Jinwoo ignored the compliment, crouching near the Weaver's carcass. His gloved hands pressed against the still-warm plates, prying open one of the wounds. The ichor dripped steadily, pooling into the cracks of the stone.
"What are you doing?" Ravien asked, curious.
"Harvesting." Jinwoo pulled out a small container and began siphoning the black fluid. "This venom burns crystal. Could be useful later."
"You treat monsters the way others treat livestock," Ravien muttered, both impressed and disturbed.
Jinwoo sealed the container. "Everything that breathes can be broken down into parts. Parts have value."
The cavern trembled faintly then, as though the Weaver's death had disturbed something deeper. Dust fell from the ceiling. Cracks widened across the crystal veins.
Ravien stiffened. "We need to move. Quickly."
Jinwoo stood, slipping the container into his satchel. His eyes gleamed faintly in the staff's light. "Then lead the way, scholar. Let's see if your knowledge is more than just words."
Ravien's answering grin was sharp. "Careful, Jinwoo. I thrive on being underestimated."
Together, they pushed deeper into the narrowing path, the sound of the Abyss shifting around them like a living thing.