A muscular man, panting heavily, swung his sword toward the gaunt man. In a split second of thoughtless action, even thick metal armor could not protect him from such a simple death.
A beam of light pierced the darkness. A single point of illumination stretched across the boundless expanse, from one edge of the curved horizon to the other, cutting through millions of dense dark clouds in the atmosphere that blocked all directions.
Some knights ignited their swords; others summoned defenses against supernatural attacks. Yet all their efforts were meaningless. Even if one pointed a sword at the threat without fear, the final outcome was inevitable. Hundreds were bathed in light brighter than the sun, their bones visible before blindness took them along with their brains shutting down.
Golden hair fanned out in the air as a figure plummeted through multiple layers of darkness. In the invaded darkness, nothing could stop the gaunt man. Tens of thousands of red eyes fixed their gaze through the gloom. Something colossal tried to pierce the fog with massive tentacles, but the gaunt man's fall was swift, descending like a falling star.
The radiant light blinded all life. Tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, of torches flickered in astonishment along stone stairways and ancient walls. Its speed burned through the air—one layer passed, ten layers, a hundred layers…
"I can hear it…! It's getting closer!!"
A frenzied spirit brought the light down to the icy stone floor thousands of layers beneath the earth. In the darkness without a glimmer, enormous tree roots twisted through the desolate, lifeless air.
"So this is the origin of humanity… It can't be here! It must be deeper, with something illuminating it. This is not the end… according to Nathan Heraj's records…"
Suddenly, an old man's voice rang out.
"You've read it, haven't you? Ancient records… ambition and progress… you must have heard a calling all along…"
The gaunt man turned toward the voice, his face pale. His body trembled, sparked by radiant light scattering in glittering bursts.
"You! The First Light of the Dungeon Organization!!!"
"Stars seek stars in space. The sun seeks the sun. Everything must reach its end. Halting the azure sky can never occur, and it is not something to challenge…"
The old man's body disintegrated into dust above the air. The death of a great man unfolded swiftly, leaving lingering thoughts within the gaunt man's mind.
Suddenly, armored men appeared from the darkness. Under the dazzling light, it illuminated their figures, revealing knights in armor and men in long cloaks—millions of them—surrounding the gaunt man. Even the spiral staircases along the edge of the chasm glowed with torchlight.
"They've been waiting all along… My situation is no different than a firefly flying into a flame…"
The gaunt man laughed madly, his left hand sweeping around, generating sparks of light.
…
The wide brick street lay empty and desolate under the moonlight, the sky at dusk turning dark and blending into purple layers. Restaurants were silent, shrouded in darkness. Occasionally, the sound of a covered wagon echoed, cloaked in mystery.
Alley Six was not far. At this point, he had not prepared a place to stay. Yet the university library, unguarded, could serve as a temporary shelter.
Each quiet step, he reflected on the stories he had read—grand yet peculiar. The disappearance of kings from all lands hinted at the terrifying underpinnings of this world.
His footsteps stopped at the dark alley. Victor glanced back, then veered away from Alley Six, crossing to the other side of the brick street. Footsteps echoed behind him but ceased as soon as his feet paused.
Only the dim lanterns lit the street. Pedestrians grew sparse until none remained. A chill spread across his lips. The cold atmosphere carried a sense of dread, punctuated by the drip of water and the caw of crows—the only remaining sounds at night.
Though the sky was overcast, above it revealed layers of purple and azure. No sliver of moon appeared, leaving only the dim lanterns along the streets.
Testing what he had read, Victor overstepped; knowing things he shouldn't could lead to an ugly end. In public transport, guards would be stationed across the republic, yet walking directly into Alley Six seemed the most effective way for him to avoid outsiders.
Yet men were sent to follow. This wasn't a game of capture or herding; it resembled observation or testing behavior.
Realizing this, Victor darted into a closed shop, knocking loudly and shouting,
"Sir! Could you open the shop, please? I really need a suit right now!"
The door creaked open, a thin, bearded man in long sleeves grumbling slightly. Upon seeing Victor, he smiled and clasped his hands together, laughing softly.
"Gentleman, at this hour… What is it you require?"
"I need a black, tailored suit for a party tomorrow. It's quite urgent."
"Oh! What party? I wasn't aware of any."
Victor cleared his throat.
"It's a private company event I'm attending."
"Apologies for my curiosity. We should measure you first; it might take time, and perhaps no suit will fit, but I assure you, my shop can provide what you need."
The owner led Victor inside. The shop displayed various suits and elegant dresses, finely designed. Victor asked to use the restroom to avoid prying eyes, going to the second floor. The living quarters were luxurious, with large animal-skin rugs and family portraits stretching across generations.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from below. Victor rushed to the windows but saw the streets outside filled with them. He froze, realizing they had been following yet not attacking—a test, not a hunt.
Victor hid in the bedroom, searching drawers and the wardrobe. Only tailoring tools and suits were inside. Heavy footsteps approached from other rooms; he had time but was sweating and tense.
The bedroom door burst open. A tall man, resembling Victor, carried a long rifle, each step shaking the wooden floor. Victor leapt, grabbing the barrel, diverting it, and stabbing with scissors. The blow caused pain but not a deep wound. The attacker staggered slightly.
Dazed, Victor lunged to wrest the rifle. Gunfire erupted multiple times; his ears couldn't process the sounds, and his vision blurred. The man succeeded in retrieving the rifle, striking Victor's face and pushing him to the bed's edge.
The man placed the rifle on his shoulder, removed the scissors, and drank a small vial. The wound healed miraculously. Victor froze in shock, staring at the surreal scene.
Regaining composure, he sat on the bed, bloodied but smiling.
"Wouldn't you like to negotiate first? I have nothing for you, and I don't think a fight is necessary."
The rifleman spoke,
"Reasoned discussion is the way of the wise."
"Exactly. We can agree on the source of what's happening."
Victor lowered his tone, attempting compromise.
"But I'm no wise man!! Ha!"
The man's laugh indicated Victor could not dominate intellectually; the outcome was predetermined. This was not robbery or a psychotic assault—it was a coordinated pursuit, meticulously planned. Ordinary reasoning would not solve this.
Victor stepped back to the head of the bed. The rifleman advanced slowly, a few paces away. Victor controlled his breathing, waiting, appearing like a trembling bird facing an eagle.
At the critical moment, Victor threw a blanket into the air, obscuring vision, and ran to the wardrobe, toppling it onto the man. Though brief, Victor had hoped it struck the head, but he underestimated the man's abilities.
As the man regained stance, Victor dashed down the stairs, opening the back door to the dark alley filled with pipes, trash, and puddles reflecting faint light.
The cold atmosphere returned. Hair swept back, he ran along his previous path. For ordinary escape, one must change direction to extend the chase's boundaries.
As he ran, darkness overtook the path. The icy stone gave way, and Victor fell into a large pit. Light illuminated sections of the area, ending with him in foul water within the sewer, lined with torch-lit channels.
'Where is this place?'
Victor looked up, finding no opening above. Strange events unfolded again. He quickly adjusted his clothing and checked his belongings. His notebooks and notes about the alleys were soaked, and he decided to leave them behind.
Exploration began. A large, wet, black-haired man carried a torch down the sewer. The flame flickered, unable to sustain light despite no wind.
At the far end, water drained into a vast lower area with intertwined pipes. Small lights below revealed a gathering of many people. Strong winds threatened to blow Victor into the endless water flow.
Briefly, a slender finger emerged from the murky water—a woman's figure, twisting into a radiant form beneath long, straight black hair. Victor stepped back in fear, but when he turned, the lights went out, and the surroundings became a single streak of darkness, as if transporting him from one point to another.
…