The translator sat silently on a cold bench across from the tunnel's reinforced steel door.
The flickering light above barely pushed back the dimness that clung to the room like a damp blanket. Her eyes didn't leave the door, not because she expected anything, but because she knew the moment would come when she had to accept that nothing would return through it.
Her wrist shifted slightly, and a pale blue glow illuminated her skin. The holographic band around her wrist projected the time in clean, sterile digits. 23:59.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
'One more minute...'
One more minute until the lock would cycle, until the entire passage would be sealed. If anyone was still inside, they would be lost forever in the darkness beneath the earth. She had kept her face expressionless all day, but now, now she allowed the tiniest crease to form at the corner of her eyes.
The final chime came like the toll of a bell, soft, but final.
00:00.
Her shoulders sagged. She exhaled quietly and muttered something in her native tongue, half prayer, half apology.
"May the cold take you gently."
With a gesture, she signaled the guard beside her. His heavy boots echoed as he moved to the control panel and began the shutdown sequence. She turned away, already composing herself for the report she would give, when the sound reached her.
A faint scrape.
Too irregular to be machinery. Too… alive.
Her head slowly turned toward the door.
Through the narrow viewport, she saw a flicker of movement. Her brows knit. At first, it was only shadows, then shapes emerged from the gloom, wavering and unsteady.
Her breath caught.
Two figures, walking slowly. Supporting each other. And in one of their arms, an unmoving body.
The dim torchlight they carried revealed their faces.
Gray. Lira.
And between them… Adel, unconscious, head lolling against Lira's shoulder.
Smoke clung to them, curling in faint tendrils that carried the sharp, acrid scent of fire. The translator's eyes widened fully now, the icy mask breaking for the first time. She spun toward the guard mid-seal and barked, "Stop! Open it—now!"
The man didn't question her. Alarms chirped softly as the door cycled open with a grinding hiss. Guards moved quickly, taking Adel from Lira's arms and laying her gently onto a stretcher. Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave a faint, crooked smile.
"Guess… I didn't die this time," she rasped, before coughing into her arm. Someone rushed to her side and pulled her onto a stretcher, they quickly hurried her toward the infirmary.
The translator's gaze shifted back to Gray. Lira looked tired but mostly unscathed, her armor scraped but intact. Gray, on the other hand, was coated in grime, blood, and something that looked disturbingly like tar. The smell of burnt chitin clung to him.
But something else caught her eye.
For a moment, the edges of the chamber seemed to… ripple. The darkest corners stirred, like smoke shifting in a breeze that wasn't there. And Gray's eyes, normally a dull, weary grey, were pitch black. Cold, fathomless black.
Then, in a blink, they returned to normal.
Something about him had changed, something big.
She swallowed, pushing down the unease. "Did you… destroy the nest?" she asked quietly.
Lira nodded, voice flat with exhaustion. "The beast in the main chamber… it's dead too."
The translator's pulse jumped. Beneath her calm expression, disbelief fought with a strange, hollow relief.
She nearly didn't believe them but there was nothing else in the tunnels that could hurt them this badly.
She stopped herself from asking how, the look in Lira's eyes told her she wouldn't get the full story.
A guard suddenly appeared at her side, whispering something urgent. Her expression didn't change, but she replied briskly in her own language, and he hurried off. Turning to Gray and Lira, she said, "After you've rested, the Kaan will want to speak with you."
Lira nodded silently.
They were offered stretchers, but both shook their heads. Gray's steps were slow but steady; Lira's gaze lingered on him a moment too long before following.
The underground streets were hushed, their footsteps echoing faintly on the cobbles. Word must have spread, the few townsfolk and nobles still out stopped to stare. Some murmured quick prayers under their breath. Others simply stepped aside, giving them space as though afraid of brushing against something dangerous.
A stuffed bear tumbled from somewhere above and landed in front of Gray. He paused, stooping to pick it up. The worn stitching and faded fabric tugged at a memory, distant nights in Ironhold, when toys like this meant safety, not loss.
He crouched and held it out to a small child peeking from behind his mother's skirt. The boy hesitated, then snatched it and bolted, only to be scolded sharply by his parents, who tossed the toy aside as though it carried plague.
Gray straightened, his face unreadable, and kept walking.
By the time they reached their quarters, the settlement had gone quiet. Inside, only their group was awake.
Orrin sat at the table, hands clasped beneath his forehead in what might have been prayer. Renn paced restlessly, glancing at the door every few seconds. Korr sat cross-legged on the bed, his injured leg stretched stiffly before him.
When the door opened, all three froze.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Renn surged forward, voice breaking. "Gray—!" He slammed into him, arms wrapping tight.
Orrin rose slowly, a faint smile breaking the stoicism on his face. Korr grumbled from his corner, "Nobody's gonna say hi to me? And where's Adel?"
"She's hurt, but she'll be fine," Gray answered.
Renn clung harder. "You… I thought—"
Gray chuckled tiredly, resting a hand on his head. "Crybaby." It was a heartwarming scene, it restored some of their humanity.
They all quickly sat after that, and Lira began to recount the mission. Her voice painted each scene, the endless swarm of smaller spiders, Adel's mist that had hidden them in the shadows, the sudden ambush in the main chamber. She told of Adel's desperate fight, how she had destroyed one of the sacs on the monster's back before being knocked out cold.
Her voice faltered. "After that… Gray broke free. I couldn't… see much after. My vision was webbed."
All eyes turned to Gray.
He leaned back, voice casual. "I fought it. Took a few arms off, but… couldn't really damage it much. Got hit by that back arm of its. Then...Adel distracted it, and I destroyed the last sac. We tricked it into stabbing itself in the head."
Everyone but Lira nodded in approval. Korr smirked,
"We should've bottled your luck Gray, might come in use in the future." Korr joked.
"Not luck, skill. Something about Gray has always been unique." Orrin countered his joke.
Korr went silent.
'So much for a joke...'
Then Gray's chest tightened.
The sensation was sharp but deep, like something coiling around his heart. He stood abruptly. "Bathroom," he muttered.
Lira's eyes narrowed as he left.
Inside, the walls felt too close. Sweat prickled at his neck as he stripped off the damaged armor, then his shirt.
His breath hitched.
Where the old wound had been, where his heart should be, was now something else. Not a hole. Not scar tissue. Darkness. It pulsed faintly, tendrils stretching outward in vein-like lines beneath his skin.
His skin had seemingly "regrown" but now there was something where the gaping hole used to be.
And it was… growing.
His fingers brushed it. The skin was warm, normal, but every instinct screamed that it wasn't.
His gaze dropped to the floating notification in his vision.
[Corruption: 7%]
'It...rose?' He nearly whispered the words out.
He didn't know why it was rising. Was it the Wither Vyre? The golden apple? That strange deity-like being? He couldn't know. Not yet.
Gray's fingers curled loosely around the worn fabric of his shirt as his mind wandered back to the moment he bit into that golden apple, the Apple of the Waning Dawn. It was what had revived him, yet something about it was suspicious. It drew him towards him. It felt like an addicting poison.
He swallowed his saliva.
The taste still lingered on his tongue, a sweetness tinged with something bitter, almost like ash. He didn't understand why that apple existed in that void, why it grew from a withered tree, yet glowing with such strange vitality. It was as if the fruit itself was caught between life and death, fading yet persistent.
'The Waning Dawn...Sounds...Familiar.' He tried to remember where he had heard it from but failed to recall the past.
And then there was also the Wither Vyre coursing through his veins, the dark energy that now pulsed beneath his skin. It was unlike anything he had felt before: raw, hungry, and unpredictable. Unlike the usual blue Vyre, which was empty and waiting to be shaped, this was a corrosive force that gnawed quietly at his core.
He recalled the teacher's words, Vyre was an empty canvas, waiting for his will to paint upon it. But what happened when the paint itself was stained with decay? Could he truly control this withering power, or was it slowly consuming him from within?
The Wither Vyre could absorb Vyre, but was Vyre itself. Gray however, refused to tap into such power.
But questions gnawed at him. Where had the apple come from? Why did that godlike being offer it so easily? A "gift" which could revive people was something millions would die for. And hw had obtained it so easily.
Gray swallowed hard, forcing his doubts aside and opened up his system status screen.
He instantly noticed changes.
His Evolution Threshold had jumped from 28% all the way up to 39%. The encounter with the Pale Maw and the monster from the cavern had increased it a lot.
He also focused on his affinity.
[Affinity: Darkness]
He smirked faintly, remembering when it was empty.
'Who needs talent?'
However something caught him off guard.
'No new skill...'
This puzzled him. He was sure that he had unlocked a new skill. Buy maybe shaping Vyre into armor didn't count as unique enough to be a skill. Or maybe it was missing a requirement which he was unaware of.
He closed the status screen. He was still missing his passive trait but was satisfied with his rewards.
But anxiety still clinged to his heart. The corruption in what he assumed was his body, was slowly rising. And from what he had learnt. Corruption wasn't so great.
He sighed, storing his questions and chaotic thoughts away.
'If i make it out of here I should try and figure out as much as I can regarding all of this.'
And finally his thoughts flickered to the man in the endless sky realm. The memory was oddly blurred, but he whispered his thanks anyway. A promise formed silently in his mind: he would never be weak again.
'He said I was too weak.. makes sense but... how will I meet him again?' He pondered deeply.
He caught his reflection. As he looked at himself he noticed something. His muscles were sharper now, more defined. The beginnings of a six-pack traced his abdomen.
The door creaked, and Lira's voice slid through. "You alright?"
He quickly tugged his shirt on in a panick."Yeah."
He looked at himself one last time before walking out.
When he stepped out, Orrin and Korr were at the table, a bottle between them. Korr had hooked an arm around Renn, laughing as the younger boy protested.
'Aren't we...and where the hell did they—'
"Hey Gray! Come have a drink for celebration!'
Gray waved them off when they offered a seat. "Gonna rest." He dropped his gear nearby and walked away.
Lira followed his lead, and the door closed softly behind them.
In the dark, he thought again of that realm above the clouds, and the voice that had reached him there.
But in his sleep, words repeated and clinged to the back of his mind.
Vh'laen… dosk thrynn… ashaar…