CHAPTER 30 — THE GATE TO THE DEPTHS
---
The bluish-gray crystal floated ahead of them like a small lantern that never went out. Its light was not very bright—just enough to illuminate a few steps ahead—but sufficient to keep them from tripping over tree roots or small stones on the path. The thin string tied to the crystal extended to Kyoichiiro's right hand (his left, since his right arm couldn't move), and each time the crystal turned, he felt a gentle tug in his palm.
Like someone was guiding them. Like someone cared.
But Kyoichiiro didn't want to think too deeply about that. That mysterious woman—whoever she was, whatever she was—had helped them once. That was enough. No need to owe more gratitude than that.
They walked slowly. Very slowly. Kyoichiiro's poison-affected leg—now his entire right leg had turned a deep purple, and that color had already spread to his waist, his stomach, his chest—he could barely feel. Each step was a guess. He didn't know if his foot was touching the ground, if he was stepping too far or too short, if he would fall at any moment.
Aetheria: (Beside him, one hand at Kyoichiiro's waist, the other holding his arm) "Slow down a little, Kyoichiiro-san. Don't rush."
Kyoichiiro: (His voice flat, but his breath ragged) "We don't have much time. That boy—"
Aetheria: (Cutting in, her voice firm though gentle) "That boy is already gone. He'll survive. But you—you won't survive if you keep pushing yourself."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just kept walking, his eyes fixed on the floating crystal ahead.
Aetheria sighed. She knew Kyoichiiro wouldn't listen. He never listened when it came to himself. But Aetheria couldn't stop reminding him. Couldn't stop worrying. Because if she stopped worrying, that would mean she had given up. And she wouldn't give up. Not on Kyoichiiro.
Aetheria: (To herself, her eyes watching Kyoichiiro's pale profile) He's too hard on himself. He thinks about everyone except himself. I have to protect him. Even if he doesn't like it.
Amura: (Ahead, occasionally glancing back to make sure they were still following) "We've been walking for about twenty minutes. Maybe more. I'm starting to see changes. The trees are thinning out, and in the distance... it looks like buildings."
Kyoichiiro: (Looking ahead, his eyes narrowing) "Buildings? In the middle of the forest?"
Amura: "Not a forest anymore. Or maybe... remnants of an old settlement. I don't know. But we're almost at the edge."
They kept walking. Another ten minutes. Or fifteen. It was hard to measure time when every step felt like a struggle.
And finally, the trees began to open up. Not suddenly, but gradually—like a curtain being pulled aside, revealing a stage long hidden.
Before them stretched an empty lot. The grass was tall, dry, and brown—a sign that no one had cut it for years. Surrounding the lot stood old houses. Not one or two, but dozens. Maybe more.
The houses were made of wood and brick, with roofs collapsed in several places, cracked walls, dark windows with no light from within. Some houses were nearly ruined, propped up by rotting wooden beams. Others still stood straight, but looked empty—so empty, like corpses waiting to be buried.
No sound. No birds, no insects, no wind. Only total silence. A silence so thick they could hear their own heartbeats—dum, dum, dum—like war drums calling them forward.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice barely audible) "What is this place...?"
Amura: (His eyes moving quickly from house to house) "An abandoned settlement. Probably decades without inhabitants. But..."
He didn't continue. There was no need. Everyone could see. These houses weren't just abandoned. They had been abandoned in haste. There were clothes still hanging on windows, plates still scattered in yards, children's toys lying on the ground—a tattered cloth doll, a broken wooden ball, a picture book whose pages had blown away.
As if the villagers had suddenly vanished. Or been made to vanish.
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, his eyes scanning the surroundings) "Let's keep going. Don't stop."
They walked across the empty lot, past the silent old houses, past the remnants of lives long dead. Kyoichiiro felt something in his chest—not pain, but pressure. As if something was pressing from inside his chest, trying to get out. The poison? Or something else?
Negative energy, he thought. Amura said he felt it. I feel it now too. This place... is full of bad memories. Or maybe... something more than memories.
---
AMURA'S POV — UNENDING VIGILANCE
Amura walked in front, his cracked sword drawn in his right hand, the shattered hilt still tucked into his left belt as a reminder. His eyes never stopped moving—watching every shadow, every gap between houses, every sound that shouldn't be there.
No sound, he thought, and that made him even more alert. A truly silent place is never safe. In a dungeon, silence means a predator is stalking. Here... I don't know. But it feels the same.
He remembered the purple wall that had nearly killed them. The wall his sword couldn't break, even with the power he hid. The wall that could only be penetrated after a mysterious woman—whom only Kyoichiiro could see—showed the way.
Who is she? Why can only Kyoichiiro see her? What is her connection to this place?
Amura didn't know. But he knew one thing: Kyoichiiro didn't lie. If he said there was a woman behind that wall, then that woman existed. Amura had been with Kyoichiiro long enough to know that he never lied about important things. He might hide his feelings. He might not say everything he was thinking. But he didn't lie.
And I trust him, Amura thought, and for a moment, he smiled—a small, almost invisible smile. Strange. I don't trust people easily. But he... is different.
He gripped his sword hilt tighter.
That's why I'll protect him. Even if he doesn't ask. Even if he thinks he's worthless. I'll protect him.
---
AETHERIA'S POV — UNSPOKEN WORRY
Aetheria walked beside Kyoichiiro, one hand at his waist, the other holding his arm. Each shaky step Kyoichiiro took made her heart beat faster. Each ragged breath he took made her eyes glisten.
He's pushing himself too hard, Aetheria thought, her lower lip bitten tight. The poison has spread everywhere. The purple on his neck has almost reached his chin. Soon it will reach his brain. And I... I can't heal him. I'm not strong enough.
She pressed her palm against Kyoichiiro's back—not to heal, but to feel his heartbeat. Dum, dum, dum. Still steady. Still strong. Still there.
But for how long?
Aetheria: (To herself, her voice nearly crying) I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose anyone else. Please... please don't take him from me.
She didn't know who she was praying to. Not to the gods of this world—she didn't believe in them. Not to fate—fate had never been kind to her. Perhaps only to herself. Or perhaps to that mysterious woman who had saved them.
Whoever you are, wherever you are... please, protect him. I'll do anything. I'll go anywhere. I'll give anything. But please... don't let him die.
---
KYOICHIIRO'S POV — DOUBT AND DETERMINATION
Kyoichiiro walked with difficulty. His numb legs felt like two sticks forced to move. Each step was a guess. Each step was a risk of falling.
But I can't fall, he thought. If I fall, Aetheria will struggle to get me up. If I fall, Amura will lose focus. If I fall, we'll stop. And if we stop...
He didn't know what would happen if they stopped. But he didn't want to find out.
He glanced at Aetheria. The girl walked beside him, her face pale, her eyes swollen, but she didn't complain. Didn't say she was tired. Didn't say she wanted to stop.
She's exhausted, Kyoichiiro thought, feeling Aetheria's slightly trembling hand at his waist. She helped Amura carry that girl. She healed my wound. She's walked this far. And now she has to support me.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice soft, almost a whisper) "Aetheria. Are you... are you alright? Can you keep going?"
Aetheria: (Turning, smiling—a forced smile, but still warm) "I'm fine, Kyoichiiro-san. Don't worry."
Kyoichiiro: "You're exhausted. I can see it from the way you—"
Aetheria: (Cutting in, her voice firm though gentle) "I said I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me. Focus on yourself."
Kyoichiiro fell silent. He wanted to say that Aetheria didn't need to lie, that he could see how tired she was, that it was okay to admit fatigue. But he didn't say it. Because he knew Aetheria wouldn't listen. Just like he wouldn't listen when she said he was pushing himself too hard.
We're both stubborn, Kyoichiiro thought, and for a moment, he almost smiled. Maybe that's why we're still alive.
---
PASSING THROUGH THE RUINS
They walked past the silent old houses. Kyoichiiro counted—eleven, twelve, thirteen houses. Some no longer had roofs, only walls remaining, like skeletons of humans long dead. Others were still intact, but their windows were dark, their doors tightly shut—or wide open, like yawning mouths, ready to swallow anyone who entered.
Amura: (Whispering, without turning) "I don't like this place. Too many places to hide. Too many shadows."
Kyoichiiro: (Flat) "We won't go into those houses. We're just passing through. Focus ahead."
Aetheria: (Nodding, but her eyes kept moving—left, right, left, right—unable to stop scanning)
After about nineteen minutes—or perhaps more, Kyoichiiro had lost count—they left the empty lot and re-entered the forest. But this forest was different. The trees were denser, darker, taller. Their leaves weren't green, but grayish, as if covered in dust or rotten. The ground beneath their feet felt damp, but not the usual dampness—a sticky dampness, like earth that was holding onto something.
And the temperature. Much colder than before. A bone-piercing cold, a cold not only felt on the skin but also within. As if someone was stabbing his chest with needles of ice.
Amura: (Shivering—something rare for him) "Negative energy... is very thick here. I can feel it. Like... like thousands of whispering voices I can't hear, but I know they're there."
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, feeling the same even though he didn't have Amura's magical sensitivity) "Let's keep going. Don't stop."
They walked faster—as fast as possible given Kyoichiiro's weakened condition. Aetheria helped support him, but she herself was exhausted. Sweat dampened her forehead, even though the air here was cold.
And in the distance, between the thinning trees, they began to see something.
A rock. A large rock. Unlike ordinary rocks—this one was irregularly shaped, but looked deliberately carved. Or perhaps naturally formed? Kyoichiiro didn't know. What he knew was that the rock resembled a cave mouth. Dark. Yawning. Ready to swallow.
Amura: (Stopping, his eyes fixed on the rock) "Is that... the entrance?"
Kyoichiiro: (Also stopping, his eyes narrowing) "That boy said the entrance was like a big stone that opens like a cave mouth. This might be it."
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice trembling) "We're... we're going in there?"
Kyoichiiro didn't have time to answer.
Because at that moment, from behind them, came the sound of flapping wings. Thousands of flapping wings. Loud. Fast. Approaching.
The three of them turned simultaneously.
From beyond the trees, from the direction of the old houses they had passed, a flock of birds took flight. Not dozens, but hundreds. Perhaps thousands. They filled the sky—black, dense, like a cloud moving swiftly. The sound of their wings was like thunder, like heavy rain falling on dry leaves.
The birds were flying away from that place. Away from the cave. Away from them.
And within seconds, they had vanished beyond the trees, leaving behind a silence more oppressive than before.
Aetheria: (Still staring at where the birds had gone, her voice barely audible) "What... what happened?"
Amura: (Also staring in the same direction, his eyes wide) "They... they were fleeing. From here. From... from whatever is inside that cave."
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, his body covered in goosebumps—not from the cold, but from instinct telling him they were in danger)
He stared at the cave. That yawning stone mouth. Dark. No light from within. No sound. Only thick darkness that seemed to stare back.
Is this a warning? he thought. Do those birds know something we don't? Do they sense a greater danger than we realize?
He didn't know. But he knew one thing: they couldn't stop. Not after coming this far. Not after facing everything they had faced.
Amura: (Turning to Kyoichiiro, his voice firm but with a note of hesitation within) "Kyoichiiro-san... do we go on?"
Kyoichiiro: (Didn't answer immediately. He looked at the cave. Then at Aetheria's pale face. Then at Amura, whose hand was already on his sword hilt.)
We've come this far, he thought. We've faced monsters, thugs, invisible walls, poison, and an entity underground. What difference does this cave make?
He took a deep breath.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice flat, but firm) "We go on."
Aetheria: (Biting her lip, but not arguing)
Amura: (Nodding, sighing, then turning forward) "Alright. I'll go first. Aetheria, watch him. Don't let him fall."
They walked toward the cave. Kyoichiiro held the crystal's string, still floating ahead—its bluish-gray light now looked dim, as if it too was afraid. Or as if it was conserving its energy.
The closer they got to the cave, the thicker the negative energy in the air. Kyoichiiro could feel it on his skin—like millions of tiny needles pricking him from all directions. Amura felt it more strongly—he bit his lip, trying not to show his pain. Aetheria felt it as deep nausea, like her stomach wanted to expel whatever remained inside.
But they kept walking.
And finally, they stood before the cave mouth.
---
THE GATE TO THE DEPTHS
Up close, the cave looked larger than they had thought. Its height was perhaps three times Kyoichiiro's height, its width enough for three adults to walk side by side. Its walls were of rough, uneven stone, with black moss growing in the crevices.
And inside... darkness. Thick darkness. Darkness that light couldn't penetrate—even the crystal's light floating ahead of them wasn't enough to illuminate more than a meter forward.
Amura: (Igniting a fireball in his palm—small, just enough to see their feet) "I'll go in first. You two follow behind. Keep your distance."
He stepped inside. Kyoichiiro and Aetheria followed.
Inside the cave, the air felt different. Damp, but not the usual dampness—a sticky dampness, as if something was clinging to their skin and refusing to leave. The smell of wet earth and something rotten—not as strong as in the previous drainage channel, but more... pervasive. As if the smell had become part of the air itself.
They walked for about ten meters—or perhaps twenty—when Amura stopped.
Amura: "It's here. The floor... changes."
Kyoichiiro approached. Ahead of them, the cave's stone floor ended, replaced by an iron cover. Rusty old iron, circular in shape, with a handle in the center. Like a manhole cover, but larger. Heavier.
Kyoichiiro: (Crouching—though difficult, as his body was already very weak—and touching the iron surface) "Cold. Very cold. Like... this iron is absorbing heat from its surroundings."
Amura: (Trying to open the cover with his bare hands) "Heavy. I need help."
Aetheria: (Releasing her hand from Kyoichiiro—carefully, making sure he wouldn't fall—and helping Amura) "I'll... I'll try."
Together, they pulled on the iron handle. The cover creaked—loud, long, like a lament from something waking from a long sleep—and slowly moved aside.
Beneath the cover, darkness. Not the cave's darkness, but a deeper darkness. A darkness that seemed to have mass, to have weight, to have will.
And from that darkness rose a smell. A smell they couldn't forget. The same smell as in the previous underground passage. The smell of damp earth, old iron, dried blood, and something rotten.
Aetheria: (Covering her nose with her hand, her voice muffled) "Drainage... channel."
Amura: (Sighing) "Yes. But there's no choice. We have to go down."
He made his fireball larger, illuminating the hole below. An iron ladder could be seen—old, rusty, but still sturdy—attached to the wall of the shaft, descending downward. Its end was invisible.
Kyoichiiro: (Standing at the edge of the shaft, looking down) "I'll go first."
Amura: (Immediately cutting in) "No. I'll go first. If there's danger below, I'm better equipped to face it than you, half-dead as you are."
Kyoichiiro: (Not arguing—because Amura was right) "Fine. But be careful."
Amura nodded. He sheathed his sword—because on a narrow ladder like this, a sword would only get in the way—and began descending the iron ladder. One rung. Two rungs. Three.
Amura: (From below, his voice echoing) "All clear. Come down."
Kyoichiiro turned to Aetheria.
Kyoichiiro: "You go first. I'll follow."
Aetheria: (Hesitant) "But—"
Kyoichiiro: "If you're below, you can catch me if I fall. And you can heal me if I'm hurt." He paused for a moment. "I can't let you stay up here alone. Too dangerous."
Aetheria bit her lip, but finally nodded. She began descending the ladder—carefully, because her long dress was a little cumbersome, but she managed.
After Aetheria was about five rungs down, Kyoichiiro started to descend.
His left hand gripped the rusty iron railing tightly. His right hand hung limp at his side—still purple, still immobile. Each step was a struggle. Each rung was a risk.
One... two... three...
He counted in his head, not because he needed to know how many rungs, but because it helped him stay focused. Far below, the light from Amura's fireball illuminated the damp stone walls. On those walls, there were scratches. Not ordinary scratches. Deliberate scratches. Writing? Symbols? Kyoichiiro couldn't see clearly.
Four... five... six...
The ladder creaked beneath his feet. The old iron groaned, but didn't break. Not as long as they were careful.
Seven... eight... nine...
The air here was colder than above. A piercing cold, a cold that made his hair stand on end. And the smell... the smell grew stronger. A fishy smell, a metallic smell, the smell of something dead.
Ten... eleven... twelve...
Kyoichiiro didn't know how many rungs they had descended. Dozens? Hundreds? This ladder felt endless, like the staircase in the old house, but longer, deeper, darker.
Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...
And finally, after descending more rungs than he could remember, his foot touched the bottom.
Not earth. Not stone. But water. Murky, cold water, ankle-deep. A drainage channel. They stood at the bottom of an underground drainage channel, with brick walls to the left and right, and a low ceiling overhead.
Amura: (Whispering, his voice echoing in the narrow passage) "We've arrived."
Aetheria: (Looking around, her voice trembling) "Same... same as under the empty house. But... older. Darker."
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, feeling the cold water around his feet) "Yes. But this is the place. This is where that boy was held. This is where they hide the other slaves."
He stared ahead, into the dark passage stretching before them. No light. No sound. Only darkness and cold water flowing slowly between their feet.
Kyoichiiro: (Exhaling, his voice firm despite his exhausted body) "Let's go. Let's finish this."
They walked forward, into the darkness, toward whatever awaited them at the end of the passage.