Date: January 8, 2018 | Time: 11:45 PM
Location: The Hollowed Veins - Deep Cavern (Near Aethelgard)
Perspective: Lucas
The fire was green. Not a "magic" green, but a "we're-burning-weird-moss-because-we-ran-out-of-wood-six-hours-ago" green.
It crackled with a wet, hissing sound that echoed off the damp cavern walls, casting long, jittery shadows that danced around us like the ghosts of the sixteen dungeon bosses we'd murdered in the last forty-eight hours.
My back was against a stalagmite that was surprisingly ergonomic, but my stomach? My stomach was staging a violent revolution.
"Hey, Sis," I whispered, staring into the emerald flames. "Do you think rocks have nutritional value if you chew them long enough?"
Celia was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire, meticulously polishing her ring with a piece of cloth. She didn't look up, but her crimson eyes narrowed just a fraction.
"If you eat a rock, Lucas, I'm not carrying you. I'll leave you here as a landmark. 'Here lies the Honored One, defeated by a pebble.'"
"It's not a pebble," I muttered, picking up a smooth, grey stone from the ground and weighing it in my hand. "It's mineral-rich sustenance. Besides, my wisdom says high-level sorcerers can metabolize anything."
「 System: Correction: I said you could eat it, but the resulting internal blockage would likely kill you in a very uncool way. Also, search results for 'Can humans digest granite' yielded zero positive outcomes. I suggest you reconsider. 」
I mentally sighed. Thanks, Clanker. You're a real beacon of hope.
「 You are welcome. Would you like me to google 'Edible Cave Moss' again? The last search result mentioned hallucinogenic properties. It might make the starvation funnier. 」
Pass.
We were exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-heavy exhausted. Since leaving the Guild, we'd been on a tear that would make even S-rank adventurers sweat. 16 quests. Two days. No sleep. We'd cleared three B-rank nests and a hidden dungeon that wasn't even on the map.
My mana pool felt like a dried-up well, and my molecules burned with a dull, constant ache. But...
I looked at my hands. They were covered in grime, soot, and the dried blue blood of a Frost-Basilisk, but they felt steady. Stronger.
Level 38.
Three levels in two days. That was impossible for normal people. For us? It was just Tuesday.
"We're monsters," I said, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Did you see that last crawler? The way you decapitated the heads at once while I blinded the main one? That was poetry."
Celia finally looked up, a small, tired smirk playing on her lips. She stopped polishing the chain and leaned back.
"It was sloppy," she critiqued, though her tone lacked its usual venom. "You were half a second late on the flashbang. If I hadn't ducked, I would have been singed."
"Details, details," I waved a hand dismissively. "The point is, we won. And we looked good doing it."
"You looked like a frantic firefly," she countered, tossing the cloth at me. It hit me square in the face. "And now you look like a starving beggar."
"I prefer 'fasting ascetic,'" I said, peeling the cloth off my face. "It adds to my mystique."
I leaned forward, my stomach growing loud enough to rival the crackling fire.
Seriously though. System, give me the inventory count again. Don't lie to me.
「 Inventory Count:
- 16x Frost-Basilisk Fangs (Inedible)
- 4x Hydra Scales (Inedible)
- 1x Broken Mana Potion (Empty)
- 0.5x Stale Ration Bar (Flavor: Sawdust and Rock) 」
"Wait," I sat up straighter. "Half a ration bar? You said we were out!"
「 I was saving it for a darker moment. But seeing as you are contemplating eating a rock, I believe we have reached 'Rock Bottom'. 」
A small, wrapped package materialized in my hand. It was pitiful. A crumbled, half-eaten bar of compressed grain that looked like it had been in a war zone.
I looked at it. It was beautiful.
"Celia," I said, my voice grave. "I have procured a feast."
I held up the half-bar like it was a holy relic.
Celia's eyes widened slightly. She uncrossed her legs and leaned in, her hunger momentarily overriding her dignity.
"Where did you get that?"
"Magic," I lied smoothly. "Also I have big pockets."
I broke the half-bar into two even smaller quarters. I tossed one to her. She caught it out of the air with a reflex speed that would have shamed a ninja.
We ate in silence. It tasted like dry chalk mixed with old cardboard, but in that moment, it was the best thing I'd ever eaten.
"It's... flavorless," Celia mumbled, chewing slowly to make it last.
"It has the flavor of victory," I said, swallowing my piece in one go. "And dust. Mostly dust."
We sat there for a while, the fire dying down to embers.
"Hey, Lucas," she asked, her voice soft.
"Yeah?"
"Where are we?"
I blinked. That... was a good question. We'd chased a Loot-Goblin into this cave system about four hours ago and hadn't seen the sky since.
"Uh... System? Where are we?"
「 Loading Map... GPS Signal Weak... Triangulating via mana density... Found it. 」
「 We are currently in the 'Hollowed Veins'. It is a subterranean network connecting the Northern Wastes to the hidden settlement of Aethelgard. 」
"Aethelford?" I repeated out loud.
"Aethelgard," Celia corrected, looking at me weirdly. "You said Aethelford."
"Close enough. It's nearby."
「 Additional Context: Aethelgard is known as the 'Gear-City'. It is a neutral zone that imports rejected Dwarvian technology and retrofits it. It is technologically advanced compared to the surface. Think 'Steampunk mixed with magic'. 」
Steampunk? Rejected tech? System, are you telling me there might be... gadgets?
「 Yes. And possibly pizza. Though I cannot confirm the existence of cheese in this timeline. 」
I stared at the blue text, a stupid grin spreading across my face. Gadgets. Pizza. Civilization.
"We're going to be rich, Sis," I whispered, closing the notification. "We're going to be so rich we won't even look at quest boards unless they're S-rank."
Celia didn't share my enthusiasm. She was looking at me with that intense, unblinking stare that usually meant she was analyzing my soul or checking if I was edible.
"You're weird," she stated flatly. "You get excited over 'gadgets' and 'pizza,' but when we killed the Hydra, you looked bored."
"The Hydra was work. Pizza is a lifestyle." I leaned back against the stalagmite, crossing my arms. "Besides, we need the upgrades. If we're going to hunt Primordial Beasts, we can't be scraping by on rocks and rusty daggers."
The air shifted. The mention of 'Primordial Beasts' always did that. It was the goal. The big one. The reason we were sleeping in caves instead of soft beds.
Celia stopped polishing her ring. "You talk about them like they're just bigger goblins," she murmured, tracing the red gemstone.
"They are the ends of worlds, Lucas."
"And?" I shrugged.
She looked down, a shadow passing over her face. "Yeah they are nothing..."
"Exactly." I poked the dying fire with a stick.
"We don't know much about each other, do we? I mean, I know you're a terrifying queen of curses, and you know I'm the handsome, charismatic leader—"
"Delusional leader," she corrected instantly.
"—but we don't know the origin stories. The 'why'." I looked at her. "You don't fight like someone who learned in a academy. Your fighting style is pure violence and murderous intent."
Celia went quiet. For a moment, I thought she'd ignore me.
"I grew up in a village," she said finally, her voice small. "A tiny, boring speck in the middle of nowhere. Mud roads. thatched roofs. Neighbors who knew exactly how many chickens you had."
"Sounds... peaceful," I offered.
"It was stifling," she spat, her fingers tightening on the cloth. "They looked at me like I was fragile. A porcelain doll. 'Oh, look at Lia, she's such an angel.' 'She's so sweet.' They wanted me to be a flower that just sat there and looked pretty."
She looked up, her eyes flashing with that chaotic red light.
"I wasn't an angel. I was a curse waiting to hatch. And when I finally left... I promised myself I'd never be 'weak' again."
"I'd be the thing people feared, not the thing they protected."
I whistled low. "So, the 'Angel' was actually the Daughter of the Devil. That explains the horns. Metaphorically speaking."
"Shut up," she huffed, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"What about you, 'Honored One'? Let me guess. You were a street rat who stole bread to survive?"
I laughed. "Opposite. Exact opposite."
I leaned my head back, looking at the glowing moss on the ceiling. "I was born in the Asura Empire. High nobility. Silk sheets, servants, the whole 'Young Master' package. My family... they were big deals. Generals. War-mages."
Celia blinked. "You? A noble? You eat food off the floor."
"Hey, the five-second rule is universal. But yeah. I was 'Kamla' back then. The disappointment."
"The one who didn't have the 'Killer Instinct'. They wanted a weapon; they got a guy who liked to read and nap."
"So you ran away?"
"I left for a reason," I corrected. "Left the inheritance. To fulfill and bring my family back..."
Celia stared at me for a long time. Then, she let out a short, sharp snort.
"A runaway prince and a fallen angel. We sound like a bad novel."
"I think we sound like a bestseller," I grinned. "The 'Twin Calamities'. Has a nice ring to it."
"Don't call us that."
"Too late. It's canon."
The fire popped, sending a shower of green sparks into the air. The heavy atmosphere had lightened, replaced by something warmer.
"So," Celia said, putting her cloth away. "Since you're a former noble, I assume your hobbies are tasting wine and judging poor people?"
"Close. My hobby is sleeping. High-quality, uninterrupted naps. Competitive napping, if that were a sport. I'd be Grandmaster."
She stared at me. "That's not a hobby. That's laziness."
"It's energy conservation! What about you? What does the Queen of Curses do for fun? Knit sweaters out of souls?"
"I clean," she said simply.
"Clean?"
"My weapons. My clothes. The camp." She picked up one of her daggers, inspecting the edge.
"There's something... satisfying about removing the grime. Scrubbing away the blood until the steel shines again. It's like... erasing the mistake of the person who tried to kill me."
I stared at her. "Okay, that went from 'domestic' to 'serial killer' real fast. You realize that's a red flag, right?"
"It's hygiene, Lucas. You should try it sometime."
"I'm the cleanest person you know!"
"You look like a beggar."
"Whatever. You're just jealous of my rugged aesthetic."
We bickered back and forth, the insults flying as easily as breathing. It wasn't the polite, guarded talk of strangers anymore.
It was the comfortable, messy noise of family.
"Hey, Lucas," she said after a lull, her tone shifting. It wasn't teasing anymore. It was sharp.
"What?"
"Why do you talk to yourself?"
I froze.
"I... I don't know what you mean. Sometimes I just think out loud—"
"No," she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "You don't think out loud. You argue. I've seen you. You nod, you shake your head, you wince like someone just insulted you. And sometimes... you use words that don't exist."
She leaned forward, counting on her fingers.
"Yesterday, you pulled a cup of tea and biscuits out of a tissue paper. Last week, you knew the exact weakness of a monster we'd never seen before. And just earlier... you laughed at a joke no one told."
"Even knew were close to Aethelgard from nowhere..."
She stared at me, her gaze piercing through the dim light.
"And your combat style... it's weird, Lucas."
"Every time you win, you get stronger. Sharper. It's not just practice. It's like you're... leveling up in real-time."
"You don't adapt; you evolve. Endlessly."
I swallowed. The silence in the cave felt heavy.
「 Warning: She is onto us. Suggestion: Tell her you are haunted by a very cool ghost. Or initiate distraction protocol: 'Look, a cockroach!' 」
Shut up, System.
I looked at her. Really looked at her. She wasn't looking at me with suspicion or fear.
She was looking at me with... curiosity. And concern.
Trust has to start somewhere.
If I wanted her to trust me with her back against a Primordial Beast, I had to trust her with my brain.
"I'm not crazy," I said, my voice quiet. "Well, maybe a little. But I'm not talking to myself."
I tapped the side of my head.
"There's a... voice. A system. It lives in my mind."
Celia didn't blink. She didn't laugh. She just waited.
"It tells me things," I continued, feeling the weight lift off my chest with every word.
"Stats. Weaknesses. Maps. It gives me quests. It's annoying, it roasts me constantly, and it thinks it's funny. But... it's the reason I'm strong. It's the reason I survival."
I looked down at my hands. "It can do a lot more. It can analyze magic, predict attacks... it's like having a library and a general in my head at the same time."
I looked back up at her, waiting for the skepticism. The laugh. The 'you need a psychiatrist' look.
"I know it sounds insane. You probably don't believe me—"
"I believe you," she said.
I blinked. "You... do?"
"Why shouldn't I?" She shrugged, picking up a stone and tossing it into the fire.
"You're my brother. The only brother I've ever had."
She looked at me, a small, genuine smile softening her sharp features.
"Remember when we first met? In Rinascita? We fought like enemies. You annoyed me, I wanted to kill you. But... adventures change things. Fighting together changes things. If you say you have a voice in your head, then you have a voice in your head. As long as it helps us win, I don't care if it's a god or a mental problem."
Did she just say mental problem?
She raised her hand.
I stared at it for a second, then grinned. I raised my hand and slapped hers in a crisp high-five.
"Thanks, Sis."
"Don't mention it, Bro. Just tell your voice to be useful."
We sat in silence for a moment, the warmth of the fire finally seeping into my bones.
But there was one more question. One that had been nagging me since we began adventuring.
"Hey, Celia?"
"Hm?"
"Why Kaiser?"
She froze.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... the obsession," I said, treading carefully. "I respect him. He's powerful. But... I don't know him. I don't know the guy. And neither do you, really. We know surface-level stuff."
I looked at her.
"But you... you look at him like he's the only thing in the world. Why?"
Celia went very still. Her eyes fixed on the fire, the red light reflecting in them like pools of blood.
"I don't know him either," she whispered. "Not fully. I know he's strong. I know he's smart. But that's not it."
Her hand went to the red ribbon in her hair, gripping it tight.
"He is all mine, Lucas. I can't let him go. I won't."
"But why?" I pressed gently. "Is it just power? Is it just because you love him?"
She shook her head slowly.
"He is the reason I felt safe," she murmured. "For the first time."
She looked up at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes was terrifying. It wasn't the look of a monster.
It was the look of a scared little girl.
"When I didn't have power..." she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Back in the village... and after... I was hunted. I was assaulted. Tormented. People didn't see a person. They saw a target. Or a toy."
The fire crackled, but the sound felt miles away.
"I was weak. And because I was weak, I was hurt. A lot."
I went quiet. I didn't need to ask what she meant. The "Assaulted. Tormented." part hung in the air like a guillotine.
"Most of them..." she continued, her voice hollow.
"They just wanted the money. But some... some wanted to play. They saw a defenseless girl and thought it made me less than human. A toy to be touched."
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the fire.
"I fought. I always fought. I bit. I screamed. I used every strength I had. But when there were 5 of them... or more..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
I felt a cold, jagged rock form in my stomach. It wasn't pity. It was rage.
A dark, boiling anger that made my mana flare up, causing the green fire to spit sparks.
I wanted to find them. Every single one of them. And I wanted to burn them until there was nothing left but ash.
"Celia," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't," she whispered. "I never told anyone. Not even Kaiser."
She looked up, wetness gathering in her red eyes.
"They hurt me, Lucas. They'd beat me when I resisted. They'd tear at my clothes. And eventually... the pain would be too much. I'd black out. I'd think... this is it. This is where I die. This is where I break."
A tear slipped down her cheek, glowing in the firelight.
"But that's the thing," she said, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper.
"Every time I lost consciousness... every single time I thought it was over..."
She leaned forward, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
"I'd wake up."
I blinked. "You... woke up?"
"Hours later," she nodded. "In a forest. Or a cave. Miles away from where they took me. And the men? Gone. Vanished."
She touched her arm, where a scar should have been deeper.
"And not just that. My wounds... they were bandaged. My clothes were fixed. I was... clean."
"There was one time..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the embers. "One time I didn't pass out right away."
"Celia..." I started, but she shook her head, her eyes distant.
"I need to tell you," she insisted, her fingers digging into her arms.
"So you understand why... why he matters."
She took a shaky breath, and the cave around us seemed to dissolve.
1.5 Years Ago
Location: Hunter's Encampment - Underground Cellar
Perspective: Celia
The smell was the first thing. Mold. Stale beer. Sweat. And blood—so much old, dried blood that it coated the back of my throat like dust.
I was huddled in the corner of a damp, stone cellar, my knees pulled to my chest. My wrists were raw where the iron shackles bit into my skin, and my left ankle throbbed with a dull, sickening heat from where they'd broken it to stop me from running.
Above me, the heavy wooden trapdoor creaked open, spilling a rectangular beam of harsh yellow light into the darkness.
Laughter drifted down. It wasn't happy laughter. It was wet, thick, and ugly.
"Pass the bottle, Zandis! You're drinking like a dog!"
"Shut up, Kraven. I'm celebrating. Do you know how much the Church pays for a 'Cursed One'? This girl is my retirement fund."
"Three days, though," a deeper voice grunted—Vor.
"Contact said the transport won't be here for three days. That's a lot of time to sit around staring at a wall."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
Then, footsteps. Heavy boots on the wooden floorboards above.
"Well," Kraven's voice slurred, a smirk audible in his tone. "Why waste it?"
My breath hitched. I pressed myself harder against the cold stone, trying to disappear. Trying to become nothing.
Please. Please don't come down. Please just leave me alone.
"She's a pretty thing," Zandis mused. "Scrawny, sure. But those eyes... exotic. I bet she screams real nice."
"She's merchandise, idiots," Vor growled. But then he paused.
"Although... the contact didn't say she had to be in perfect condition. As long as she breathes, we get paid."
"Exactly!" Kraven laughed. "Think of it as... punishing her. Teaching the little weak-child her place."
The trapdoor slammed fully open.
Three silhouettes appeared against the light. They looked huge. Distorted monsters made of shadow and malice.
"Hey, Sweetheart!" Kraven called down, his voice dripping with mock affection.
"Why don't you come up and join the party? It's cold down there."
I didn't move. I couldn't. My body was shaking so hard my teeth chattered.
I was 15. I was alone. And I was terrifyingly, paralyzingly weak.
"Shy, huh?" Zandis chuckled. He dropped a rope ladder. "Go get her, Kraven. Bring her to the table."
Kraven descended. He smelled like sour wine and unwashed leather. When his boots hit the stone floor, the sound echoed like a gunshot in my ears.
He walked over to me, towering over my curled form.
"Come on, darling," he sneered, reaching down. His hand was rough, calloused, and hot.
"NO!"
I scrambled back, kicking out with my good leg. My heel connected with his shin.
"You bitch!"
He didn't stumble. He just laughed—a cruel, sharp bark.
He grabbed my hair, pulling me up. A scream tore from my throat as he dragged me toward the ladder. I clawed at his arm, my nails digging in, leaving red welts, but he didn't stop.
He was stronger. So much stronger.
He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of grain and climbed.
"Let me go! Please! LET ME GO!"
I was sobbing, the words tearing at my throat.
He dumped me onto the wooden floor of their main room. It was littered with bottles, weapons, and food scraps. Nine men sat around a long table, their eyes turning to me instantly.
Hungry eyes. Predatory eyes.
"Feisty one," Vor muttered, taking a bite of an apple. He looked at me like I was a piece of meat he was deciding how to cook.
"Tie her to the chair. Let's see if we can't teach her some manners."
Kraven hauled me up again. I bit his hand. Hard. I tasted copper.
SMACK.
The back of his hand hit my face with the force of a hammer.
My head snapped back. White light exploded behind my eyes. The taste of blood filled my mouth, hot and metallic.
"Resisting makes it worse, girl," he whispered, his hot breath against my ear making my skin crawl.
"Or better. Depending on how much you like pain."
He shoved me into a chair, tying my hands behind it with rough rope that burned my wrists.
I looked around the room. Nine of them. All laughing. All watching.
"Please..." I whimpered, my vision blurring. "Just kill me. Just kill me now."
"Kill you?" Zandis walked over, sliding a dagger from his belt. He used the flat of the blade to trail down my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw.
"No, no. That would be a waste."
He leaned in, his eyes dark and empty.
"We're going to have so much fun first."
I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears leaking out, hot and burning. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Someone... anyone...
Lyla... God...
Save me.
But the room only answered with laughter.
"Look at those eyes," one of the men at the end of the table—Mal—snickered, leaning back in his chair with a cup of ale. "Like a demon's. But pretty. Real pretty."
"Pale as a ghost, too," another, Thrak, added, his gaze raking over my trembling form. "Bet she bruises easy. Like a peach."
He tossed a chicken bone onto the floor, wiping his grease-stained mouth with the back of his hand. "Exotic. That's what the buyers like, right? Something... rare."
"She's just a kid," a younger one, Lorne, muttered, though his eyes lingered on my legs. "Skinny."
"Skinny means sexy," Mal shot back, and the table erupted in low, guttural chuckles. "Besides, look at that figure. She's young, but she's built for work."
I tried to speak, tried to find a voice that wasn't a pathetic squeak.
"Please..." I choked out. "Just let me—"
Slapped.
They just kept talking, their voices overlapping, a wall of noise that buried my existence.
"How much did Vor say she was worth again?" Garrick asked, sharpening a knife.
"Enough to buy this whole tavern and burn it down for fun," Thrak grinned.
"Wait," I tried again, louder this time. "Please! Just listen—"
Slapped.
They kept on slapping me when I spoke….
Then, Bane stood up.
He was huge, a bald brute with scars crisscrossing his scalp. He picked up a knife from the table and walked over to a wooden chair in the corner—a different one, heavier, with straps.
He started wiping it down. Slowly. Deliberately.
"Time to clean up," he grunted, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in the floorboards.
He looked at me, his eyes dead and cold.
"Time for the merchandise to be... inspected."
"Undress," he commanded. "Let's see what we're working with. Hmm?"
The air left my lungs.
No. No, no, no.
"Just to make sure she's not damaged," Zandis laughed from the table. "Standard procedure."
"Start with the dress, girl," Bane said, tossing the rag aside. "Or I'll cut it off."
"NO!" I screamed, thrashing against the ropes. The wood bit into my skin, tearing it, but I didn't care. "GET AWAY FROM ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!"
The laughter at the table stopped. Not because they were scared. But because they were amused.
"She's got lungs on her," Mal grinned.
"Make her scream louder," Thrak cheered, raising his cup.
Bane didn't smile. He just reached out.
I kicked him. I screamed until my throat felt like it was bleeding. I begged words I didn't even know I knew.
Please god please god please someone anyone—
SMACK.
Kael, who had been silent until now, stepped in and backhanded me. It wasn't angry. It was casual. Dismissive. Like swatting a fly.
My head snapped to the side. The room spun.
SMACK.
"Loud," Kael muttered, rubbing his hand.
SMACK.
The table erupted in cheers. "That's it! Tame the dog!"
SMACK.
"Again! Hit her again!"
SMACK.
I was sobbing now, deep, heaving gasps that racked my entire small body. Panic was a cold hand squeezing my heart until it stopped. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
Then, the chair at the head of the table scraped back.
The room went instantly silent.
Ryker. The leader.
He hadn't spoken a word since I was brought up. He was massive, a mountain of muscle and scars, with eyes that looked like they had seen hell and decided to move in.
He stood up, his shadow stretching across the floor, swallowing me whole.
He walked toward me. Slow. Heavy. Inescapable.
"Please..." I whispered, the word barely a breath. "Please..."
He didn't stop. He didn't blink.
He reached down, his hand wrapping around my throat. It was big enough to crush my neck like a twig.
He lifted me. Not the chair—me. He ripped the ropes from the wood with a sickening crack, leaving my wrists bound but free from the seat.
Then, he slammed me down onto the table.
CRASH.
Bottles shattered. Plates flew. Pain exploded in my back, threatening to shatter my spine.
He pinned me there, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. His face was inches from mine, smelling of tobacco and death.
I tried to scream, but only a wheeze came out.
"Quiet," he rumbled.
It wasn't a request.
My vision started to blur. Black spots danced at the edges of my sight. The pain was fading, replaced by a cold, numbing darkness.
He used the knife to cut my dress. Touching my stomach and… moving up…
I'm dying. I'm actually dying.
My eyes fluttered closed. The tears leaked out, hot trails on my cold skin.
Someone…
He touched and squeezed my breast…
"Aww its growing—" Ryker started to say, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
A sound tore through the air.
It was the sound of metal being ripped apart by something... monstrous.
Then, silence.