The unsettling realization took firm root in Irene's mind. She was certain that the master of the estate already knew of their presence, yet the complete absence of any movement on his part was deeply unnatural.
Under normal circumstances, an enemy would act immediately—either attempting to subdue them or ensuring they could never leave the facility alive to report what they had found. They certainly wouldn't watch quietly from the shadows unless they were entirely confident that no signal could escape these walls.
They possessed total faith in their preparations, believing that their intruders were already trapped beyond hope.
Irene pulled out her communicator, inspecting it closely. It was standard-issue Inquisition gear, designed specifically to maintain contact across unstable environments. It was supposed to function almost anywhere, yet right now, the display was completely dead—rendered utterly useless.
While signal dropouts could occur in complex terrain, Irene found it impossible to believe that a simple underground fortress could naturally disrupt a military-grade device. The master of this place had meticulously engineered their isolation long before they stepped inside.
Tightening her grip on her weapon, Irene shifted closer to Jeanne and Skadi. She was well aware that she was the weakest combatant in this group, but even if she couldn't match their immense strength, she was determined not to hold them back.
The four of them advanced down the passage in silence. The heavy quiet made their footsteps echo with unnerving clarity. Ahead, illuminated by the dim, flickering light of Irene's lantern, the narrow tunnel opened up into a cavernous, subterranean chamber.
Stepping inside, they immediately noticed deep, jagged claw marks tearing through the stone walls, accompanied by a faint, metallic scent hanging in the humid air.
Blood.
All three immediately raised their weapons, their senses sharpened to a razor's edge.
They didn't know what function this chamber had served, but the dark, dried crimson stains crusting the floorboards—alongside the heavy odor of decay—told them everything they needed to know. Something horrific had taken place here.
As the oppressive silence dragged on, Jeanne felt a dozen unseen eyes watching them from the shadows. Refusing to wait for an ambush, she unsheathed her sword and summoned a bright burst of holy flame, casting away the darkness.
The blaze illuminated a vast, hollow plaza. Standing near the far side was a structure built like an ancient temple, grand and solemn in design, though clearly erected in recent years.
The floor surrounding it was strewn with dark stains and countless sharp white fragments. Jeanne knelt and picked up a piece, realizing it was a splintered bone, though it was impossible to tell what creature it had belonged to.
"This place..." Jeanne murmured, her brow furrowing in disgust. "It looks like a site built entirely for ritual sacrifice."
She inspected the surrounding ruins, but whatever entity had presided over the space had already fled.
Stepping forward, Jeanne delivered a powerful kick to the central structure. With a violent crash, the corrupt altar collapsed into a heap of shattered stone and dust. The creature had retreated long before their arrival.
"If it knows to fall back, then it is undoubtedly a Seaborn," Skadi said, her expression grim as she kept her greatsword ready. An entity capable of strategic retreat possessed high intelligence—making it far more dangerous to deal with.
Jeanne stared down at the dried blood and bone splinters. Though she lacked direct proof, she knew in her heart that these remains belonged to the missing villagers. Why was the creature consuming so many people?
"Do Seaborn normally possess an appetite this massive?" Jeanne turned to Skadi. "If my guess is right, every single missing person from the neighboring settlements ended up in this thing's maw."
"No," Skadi answered, looking at the gory scene with equal doubt. "Seaborn do not share the wild, insatiable hunger of lesser sea beasts. Feeding is no longer a driving instinct for them."
Skadi's mind raced. Was the entity lingering here truly a pure Seaborn, or had it mutated into something far more bizarre? A true Seaborn had no reason to feast on human flesh in such vast quantities.
"I don't care what kind of monster it is," Irene said, her face pale with cold fury. "I only care about where it fled! I won't let a single one of these abominations leave this place alive."
Every instinct as a judge demanded justice for the slaughter before her. Even if the dwellers of this estate weren't formal members of The Deep Sea Church, they were just as rotten to the core.
Overcome by anger, Irene quickened her pace. But just as she stepped past a shattered pillar, an eerie sensation shot up her spine.
Instinct taking over, she swung her sword in a swift arc behind her. A soft, wet thud echoed as a misshapen, writhing entity was sliced clean in two, collapsing limply onto the cold stone.
"Something's creeping up on us! There's more than one!" Irene called out, backing toward the group as she wondered where the creature had dropped from.
The three looked up toward the ceiling. Suspended high above in the darkness were clusters of translucent, jellyfish-like creatures. Awakening one by one at the intrusion, they began to pulsate, preparing to swoop down.
"Well... now I know what they were feeding those villagers to," Jeanne said, a wave of revulsion washing over her. The sheer sight of the floating, pulsating swarm massed together on the ceiling was a grotesque assault on the eyes.
What stunned her most was their ability to hover. Defying all natural laws, these bizarre jellyfish drifted through the air, spewing streams of corrosive fluid down toward the group.
Jeanne had no intention of letting the fight drag out. Sweeping her sword through the air, a wall of brilliant flame erupted, engulfing the ceiling.
Having never adapted to intense heat, the floating entities were instantly scorched black, dropping from the ceiling like clumps of melted jelly. Plunging to the ground, they began squirming slowly toward Jeanne's party, moving like sluggish, malformed blobs.
"Have you ever seen Seaborn like this before?" Jeanne asked, casually roasting another cluster of slithering jelly with her flames while turning to Skadi. "How are they floating in midair? And honestly... their actual fighting capability seems remarkably weak."
"I have never encountered this specific form," Skadi replied, holding her massive blade at the ready. Her massive sword was far less suited for clearing hordes of soft, small targets than Jeanne's wide-area fire, and swinging it here risked caving in the underground tunnel. "However, Seaborn adaptations are limitless. This is likely a newly evolved strain adapted for a specific task."
Jeanne nodded silently. The scorched creatures showed no sign of stopping, stubbornly dragging their blackened bodies across the stone floor toward them, though their crawling speed was slower than a snail's.
"These things clearly sacrificed all their physical strength and durability just to gain flight," Irene observed, cutting down a squirming blob near her boots. "Pathological specialization... but what could possibly be up in the air that attracts them so much?"
If these creatures had maintained their aerial advantage rather than being brought down by Jeanne's flames, fighting them in the dark would have been a nightmare. Their flight made them difficult targets for melee weapons—a sharp reminder that she needed to request ranged equipment from the Inquisition once this was over.
"So the cultists were secretly breeding these abominations down here?" Irene mused aloud, severing another writhing tendril as she processed the scene. "What is their ultimate goal? How long has this operation been running under our noses? Why didn't the Inquisition pick up on any warnings about this estate? Why..."
Mid-sentence, a sudden, sharp spike of danger shot through Irene's mind, sending her internal alarm bells blaring.
Without a second thought, Irene raised her lantern—the specialized catalyst crafted by Iberia specifically to channel Arts against Seaborn. At the same time, she dropped her shortsword, her left hand darting to her belt.
She drew a hand-cannon—a firearm produced during the era of close cooperation between Iberia and Laterano, renowned for its formidable stopping power.
Though her marksmanship with firearms was merely proficient compared to her refined rapier technique, the sheer threat approaching compelled her to abandon her sword in favor of raw, explosive force.
"Jeanne, Skadi, heads up! Something big is coming!" Irene shouted, raising her hand-cannon and opening fire into the shadowy passage ahead.