The humming within the chamber deepened.
The black mist suspended above the centre of the formation no longer drifted aimlessly.
Instead—
it slowly rotated.
Like a vortex patiently waiting to awaken.
The five elders simultaneously withdrew their hands.
Only slightly.
Not enough to interrupt the ritual.
The masked elder slowly lifted his gaze toward Draven.
"...You said..."
"...you would serve as the anchor."
A brief pause.
"...The formation has reached that stage."
His voice remained steady.
"...It is time."
Draven gave a slight nod.
"...Mm."
He lowered his gaze toward his shoulder.
The little slime remained quietly attached to him.
Without a word—
he reached over.
Gently picked it up.
Then tossed it toward Kaelira.
She instinctively caught the little slime with both hands.
"...Huh?"
She blinked.
Looking from the slime...
...to Draven.
"...Is this my job now?"
She held it up in front of her face.
The slime wobbled happily.
"...I'm already looking after your cloak..."
"...your ring..."
"...your gloves..."
"...your earring..."
Her eyes dropped back to the tiny slime.
"...And now this little guy too?"
Aldric glanced over.
"...Looks like you've been promoted."
Kaelira puffed out her cheeks.
"...I'm not a caretaker."
She looked sternly at the slime.
"...You'd better behave."
The slime simply bounced once.
"...Puru..."
Kaelira sighed dramatically.
"...Great."
"...Even it ignores me."
Draven had already turned away.
The little black cat remained comfortably perched atop his head.
Its tail lazily swayed behind him.
The masked elder slowly raised one hand.
"...Stand here."
He indicated the exact centre of the ancient formation.
"...Do not move..."
"...unless instructed."
Without hesitation—
Draven stepped forward.
Every eye within the chamber followed him.
His footsteps echoed softly across the ancient stone.
He stopped at the centre of the formation.
The countless glowing runes surrounding him immediately brightened.
Ancient symbols shifted beneath his feet.
Responding to his presence.
The masked elder slowly raised both hands.
"...When instructed..."
"...release your mana."
"...Slowly."
"...The formation will bind itself to your mana..."
"...using it as the anchor that stabilises the Breach."
Draven nodded once.
"...Understood."
Silence settled over the chamber once more.
The five elders exchanged brief glances.
Then—
they resumed.
Mana surged from all five simultaneously.
The ancient formation erupted with crimson light.
Layer after layer of runes rotated beneath Draven's feet.
The entire chamber trembled.
The masked elder's voice echoed clearly through the underground hall.
"...Now."
Draven slowly closed his eyes.
Within his body—
the endlessly folding mass of Abyssal mana continued compressing without pause.
It never stopped.
Not even for an instant.
He carefully separated a portion of it.
Then guided it outward.
Thin strands of mana flowed from his body.
Gentle.
Steady.
Perfectly controlled.
The instant they touched the formation—
the ancient runes responded.
One after another—
they ignited.
Crimson light spread rapidly throughout the countless inscriptions.
The black vortex suspended above the formation shuddered violently.
The chamber itself shook.
The ritual had entered its final stage.
**RUMBLE...**
The entire underground chamber trembled.
The vortex above Draven accelerated.
Its slow rotation became faster.
Then faster still.
The countless runes carved throughout the chamber blazed brighter than ever before.
The masked elder's eyes narrowed.
"...Maintain the flow."
"...Do not increase it."
Draven remained perfectly still.
"...Mm."
The strands of mana flowing from his body neither increased nor diminished.
Not the slightest fluctuation appeared.
His control was absolute.
The elder standing opposite him frowned beneath his mask.
"...His control..."
Another quietly muttered,
"...Not even a ripple."
The masked elder spoke without looking away from the formation.
"...Continue."
The remaining four elders immediately poured more mana into the ancient array.
One circle beneath Draven began rotating.
Then another.
Then another.
Layer after layer awakened.
Each activating the next in perfect sequence.
The vibrations beneath everyone's feet steadily intensified.
Ryke stared.
*...This pressure...*
*It's getting heavier...*
He instinctively retreated another step.
Breathing had become noticeably more difficult.
The mana saturating the chamber had grown so dense that every breath felt heavier than the last.
Pythia quietly observed the formation.
"...The anchor has been accepted."
"...The ritual is proceeding normally."
Kaelira looked between Draven...
...and the swirling darkness overhead.
"...So..."
"...We're almost there?"
Pythia nodded.
"...The pathway is beginning to form."
"...Once the boundary weakens sufficiently..."
"...the Breach will manifest."
Aldric folded his arms.
"...About damn time."
He glanced toward the elders.
"...You rats work even slower than I expected."
None of the elders acknowledged him.
Every one of them remained completely focused.
Sweat slowly gathered beneath several of their masks.
Maintaining such an enormous formation was clearly demanding.
The humming throughout the chamber deepened once more.
The swirling darkness above the formation gradually contracted.
Compressing itself.
Again.
And again.
Until—
it was no larger than a clenched fist.
Then—
space itself distorted.
A tiny crack appeared.
No larger than a fingernail.
It hung silently above Draven.
Pitch black.
Utterly soundless.
The instant it appeared—
everyone in the chamber felt it.
An indescribable chill spread throughout the room.
Ryke's face immediately turned pale.
*...It's here.*
*The Abyss...*
*That's...*
*That's the Abyss...*
The crack remained perfectly still.
No mana escaped.
Not yet.
The masked elder's expression became solemn.
"...Do not lose focus."
"...We are not finished."
The five elders simultaneously altered the flow of mana.
The tiny crack quivered.
Almost imperceptibly—
it widened.
Only by the width of a single hair.
Then—
a faint thread of dark violet mana seeped through the opening.
The very instant it entered the chamber—
Draven moved.
Without the slightest hesitation—
he released another strand of his own mana.
It intercepted the escaping Abyssal mana before it could spread.
The two streams intertwined.
Rather than allowing the corruption to disperse—
Draven immediately drew both strands back into himself.
The Abyssal mana obediently followed.
Flowing directly into his body.
Veins slowly surfaced across his neck.
His jaw tightened.
The muscles beneath his skin visibly tensed.
Yet he never stopped.
Not even for a heartbeat.
The elders watched in complete silence.
One of them unconsciously whispered,
"...He's really doing it..."
Another stared at Draven as though witnessing something beyond reason.
"...He's using himself..."
"...to stabilise the Breach."
The masked elder never looked away from the opening.
"...Maintain it..."
"...Just a little longer..."
The tiny crack trembled once again.
This time—
it did not stop.
Something answered.
Far beyond the boundary—
deep within the endless darkness of the Abyss—
an ancient presence stirred.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As though something unimaginably old...
Had opened its eyes.
The pressure within the chamber multiplied.
The tiny crack emitted a low...
Grinding...
Almost painful sound.
Like reality itself was protesting.
Then—
from the other side—
came the unmistakable sensation...
That something...
Had noticed the opening.