As Atlas and Lilim made their way back to the portal, their resolve hardened — they would enter this so-called "dungeon" the mortal had spoken of and see for themselves what kind of realm it truly was.
Lilim lifted her hand ever so slightly, releasing the faintest fraction of her divine power — just enough to part the crowd without causing harm. People staggered aside as if pushed by an invisible wave, their bodies compelled to move even when their minds screamed in confusion.
Murmurs rippled through the air. Heads turned. The crowd's attention shifted entirely from the ominous dungeon entrance to the two figures walking through it.
Atlas and Lilim didn't bother hiding their presence; the weight of their divinity rolled off them like an unseen tide. No one could meet their gaze — not because of fear alone, but because their very souls felt pressed under an incomprehensible pressure.
With steady steps, Atlas and Lilim reached the portal. Its surface shimmered like rippling obsidian water, the air around it vibrating with unstable energy. Without hesitation, Atlas took the first step forward, his figure swallowed by the darkness beyond.
Lilim followed immediately behind, her expression calm and unwavering in her loyalty. Yet, just as she was about to step through the portal after Atlas — it vanished. The shimmering gateway collapsed in on itself like liquid glass, leaving behind only still air… and silence.
Atlas was gone.
Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face before it was swiftly replaced by something far more dangerous — panic.
For the first time since she had give herself to Atlas, she could not feel her master's presence within her divine perception.
He was nowhere in her range. Her heart skipped a beat, and the faint glow of her irises began to distort, trembling with divine instability.
A pulse of energy erupted from her without warning. It was unintentional — a byproduct of the sheer terror that seized her divine core. The people around her didn't even have time to scream.
The slightest brush of her raw divinity crushed their fragile bodies instantly, their souls evaporating like mist under the sun. They fell where they stood — silent, lifeless, insignificant.
The world itself shuddered beneath her divine panic and wrath. Glass fractured, the air warped, and the structure of the mall groaned under the weight of her uncontrolled aura.
Only when every living being in the mall lay dead did Lilim manage to wrestle control over herself. She took a trembling breath, her crimson eyes flickering as realization struck her — she had broken her master's command.
"Don't kill anyone without my permission," he had said.
Her lips quivered slightly as she whispered to herself, "I… I didn't mean to disobey, Master…"
But her worry for him gnawed deeper than her guilt. The connection between them was faint — too faint. That alone terrified her more than the consequences of her disobedience.
She clenched her fists, torn between two devastating choices: to obey her master's words and maintain her suppression, or to release it entirely and search for him through divine perception.
She knew what would happen if she released it — her divinity, unrestrained, would rip through this fragile mortal realm like a celestial storm. Mountains would crumble, oceans would boil, and reality itself might fracture.
And yet… the thought of doing nothing, of not knowing where Atlas was, hurt infinitely more.
Her body trembled as the divine energy within her core surged against its seals, yearning for release. The air crackled with tension as she whispered to herself in anguish, "What do I do, Master? I can't… I can't stay still while you're gone…"
The light around her dimmed and flickered — the calm before a potential cataclysm.
---
Atlas stepped out into an entirely different dimension. The air was thick and heavy with energy, humming faintly like a living thing.
The ground beneath his feet pulsed in rhythm, as though the world itself possessed a heartbeat. A strange pressure filled the atmosphere — not divine, yet not entirely mortal either, something in between, something unsettling.
Weird… I can't feel Lilim's presence… Atlas thought, his eyes scanning the strange horizon. He turned to his side, expecting to see her standing beside him as always — but there was no one there.
Before he could call out to her, a mocking voice echoed from behind him.
"Are you looking for your fellow divine companion?"
Atlas spun around instantly. Standing about five feet away was a man — or rather, something resembling one. He was roughly Atlas's height, perhaps slightly taller, with skin the color of dark iron and eyes that gleamed like molten silver.
His ears were long and sharp, unmistakably elven, but his aura carried none of the grace typical of their kind in fantasy books. Instead, it emanated malice — calm, deliberate, poisonous.
"Who the hell are you?" Atlas demanded, his tone sharp and venomous. "And what did you do to Lilim?"
The dark elf smirked, his expression a picture of mocking amusement. "Don't worry about your female friend," he said lazily, "she's in a better situation than you. Trust me."
Atlas's eyes narrowed, rage flashing behind them. "You still haven't answ—"
Before he could finish, the dark elf vanished. A blur — a flicker — then suddenly, he was right in front of Atlas.
A fist crashed into Atlas's abdomen with the force of a meteor.
The air left his lungs in an instant, pain exploding through his core. Even for someone who had endured torment, this blow felt different — it wasn't just physical; it carried a strange energy that disrupted the flow of his divine essence.
"Goodness," the dark elf said with a mocking grin, watching Atlas stagger back, clutching his stomach. "You're weak. I thought a Mid-Tier Deity would at least make this entertaining. But this… this is pathetic."
Atlas coughed, his breath ragged, fury burning in his eyes. "Fuck you," he growled through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, yeah," the dark elf replied dismissively, his grin widening as he lifted his leg — then drove a brutal kick into Atlas's stomach, sending him flying several meters through the air.
Atlas crashed into the pulsing ground, skidding across it as the soil cracked beneath him. The impact sent a dull vibration through the strange dimension.
The dark elf chuckled, lowering his foot, his glowing eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. "Come on, 'Deity'," he said coldly, his tone dripping with mockery. "At least give me a worthwhile warm-up before I devour your essence."
Atlas coughed violently, crimson spilling from his mouth and staining the ground beneath him. The dark elf tilted his head, amused — but then his grin faltered. He could've sworn he saw something strange… the blood on the ground moved.
"What the hell is wrong with your blood?" the dark elf asked, a note of confusion breaking through his arrogance. But Atlas didn't respond.
When was the last time my blood reacted like this…? he thought grimly. Not since… I was tortured by Corvane.
"Oh, now you're quiet?" the dark elf mocked, his grin returning. "Well, it doesn't really make much of a difference — you're going to die either way." He laughed — a harsh, hollow sound that echoed through the dim dimension.
As Atlas tried to push himself up, his body trembling, the dark elf vanished again — reappearing in front of him with terrifying speed.
"Uh-uh," he said with a smirk, "stay down."
His foot crashed into Atlas's face, the impact sending ripples through the ground. Then came another — and another. The dark elf began stomping Atlas's head repeatedly, each blow more vicious than the last.
"Yes… yes… yes, yes!" he shouted manically, laughing between strikes. "Feel it! Feel the pain!"
The ground cracked beneath the weight of his brutality. After what felt like an eternity of savage stomping, the dark elf finally stopped, breathing heavily. He tilted his head, admiring his "work."
But what he saw made his grin vanish. Atlas's face — the one he had just crushed beyond recognition — was whole. Each bruise, each fracture, each drop of blood was gone. His flesh had healed completely.
The dark elf's expression darkened. "You bastard," he hissed. "Who gave you the right to heal yourself?"
Then, as if struck by inspiration, a cruel smile returned to his lips. "Let's see if you can heal from this."
He extended his hand toward Atlas's head. The air crackled, twisting unnaturally as black fire gathered at his palm. A bolt of dark flame burst forth and struck Atlas square in the face.
There was no explosion — no blast — only the silent, merciless roar of burning agony.
"AHHHH!" Atlas screamed, his voice echoing through the realm. The dark flames weren't like ordinary fire; they didn't just burn his flesh — they tore through his soul, devouring both body and spirit in a torment that defied description.
The flames clung to him endlessly, devouring everything they touched, yet his body kept regenerating. Each time his flesh reformed, the dark fire consumed it again, trapping him in a nightmarish cycle of pain and rebirth.
Atlas's blood began to boil — not from rage this time, but from pure, excruciating pain that dug into the core of his being.
"Now that's godly resilience," the dark elf said mockingly, his eyes narrowing with sadistic delight. Then, with a wicked grin, he unleashed another series of dark flame bolts.
Each one collided with Atlas, layering over the last, until his entire body was engulfed in the writhing inferno. Yet still — still — Atlas's form regenerated, his divine essence refusing to break.
The dark elf's amusement twisted into fury. "Why won't you die!?" he roared. "I said DIE! So I can devour that high-quality essence of yours!"
He raised his foot again, his expression now that of rage and madness, and slammed it down on Atlas's head — over and over — the sound like a hammer driving a nail into stone.
The dimension trembled with each impact, the ground cracking and bleeding with light beneath them, as the cruel struggle between flesh and divine resilience continued without end.