The Underworld, dark as ink.
Ian's figure became a streak of faint light, darting through the darkness. Gaga, too, melted into the shadows, concealing its presence.
Half an hour later, a faint Spiritual Fluctuation appeared at the edge of his Gravity Perception. It was like a candle in the wind, yet it burned with tenacity.
Ian slowed his pace. The rock formations ahead gradually grew more orderly, and signs of artificial excavation began to appear.
A rusted alloy gate appeared up ahead. A dim, yellow light seeped through the gap in the door.
Within the gate was a domed hall.
Roughly two hundred people were huddled in the corners. Most were sallow and emaciated, with purplish-black veins of corruption marring the backs of their hands and necks.
A few guards holding crude weapons stood watch before the gate.
"The Protective Array can only hold for another half a day, at most…" an old guard said, his voice hoarse.
