《Awakening The Abyssal System》


 Chapter 1 - The Queens Order

    The tattered books from a certain library always seemed to follow a mysterious boy with messy hair. These books told heroic tales of long-forgotten people and deceitful romances that gave the false taste of being important to someone. And that was what the boy desired the most.


    Standing still, he found himself thrown amidst the garbage bags near the back door of a public library from which he had recently been expelled. His eyes, cloudy and weary, adjusted to the intense light of the security towers rising above him, fastened to the cave ceiling, beyond the clouds. He surveyed the dirty alley, infused with the malevolent soul of the industrialized city, its shadows deepened by the growing filth of machines and smoke.


    His cyan eyes, though in a deplorable state, gleamed like the flames of a star refusing to die. His disheveled hair, blacker than ebony, was stained with soot, and his clothes were made of cheap, old fabric, rented due to his lack of funds, for today was a unique day in his life.


    "They should have searched me before tossing me out the back door," he muttered, his voice a mixture of frustration and bitterness. "Idiots."


    He pulled a thin, dusty book from beneath his worn-out clothes. The title on the cover read: Children of the Abyss: The Offspring of Monsters. He had overheard a group of students talking about this book a few days ago. His curiosity about the subject led him to risk his health to acquire it, despite its seemingly trivial importance.


    He didn''t mind risking his life for something he so desperately desired to satisfy his curiosity¡ªnot out of madness, but from an understanding of his future. Today was the day he would be taken to the military camp, and he already knew that only one out of fifty candidates managed to arrive there unscathed. There were many rumors of participants who had to take their tests while carrying their own blood bags.


    For someone who had never left his city, as was his case, the world beyond was filled with mortal dangers¡ªmonsters lurking, and strange, ancient relics that should be avoided, especially by someone as slim and frail as him. However, that choice was no longer his.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Sitting on a bench in the industrial district, he finished the book. It was a truly intriguing story about the curious nature of those born within the Abyss alongside the monsters, apparently written by the same explorer who had excavated the main tunnel, now infested with creatures seeking to make the human territory their own.


    His desire to investigate the great discoveries of this author consumed him slightly; after all, he loved the idea of seeing things with his own eyes. It even gave him hope that if he survived the journey to his enlistment, there might be a chance to become an explorer of this beautiful world the adventurer had described in such an epic and passionate way, capable of touching even the most corrupted soul.


    I really wish I could know what that strange life form they call coral is like¡­


    A sharp yet angelic voice, commanding and assertive, reverberated behind him.


    ¡ª Indeed, it''s a great day for reading. It''s rare to see one of us literate, Buck.


    With the face of someone who had felt betrayed by his own story, young Buck placed his hands over the book''s cover and replied in a monotone voice:


    ¡ª ¡­The queen of the nest I was born in is still alive, isn''t she?


    ¡ª To your misfortune, I''m afraid so. Your nest wasn''t documented, so it''s possible she''s still alive. And as you know, if the queen is still standing, you could be controlled by her. And we certainly don''t want a rogue superhuman on the loose.


    Buck nodded and slowly looked over his shoulder, surprised by the sight. Despite her older voice, the agent appeared youthful and healthy. She wore a long, dusky gray coat adorned with numerous medals on her chest, and her long, dark hair, tinged with a hint of emerald, flowed down her back.


    If the queen of his nest were dead, they could expect a military convoy and, with some luck, reach the training camp before being attacked by any creatures on the way. Unfortunately for Buck, the queen of his nest remained intact.


    He couldn''t help but feel betrayed by his own fate. It was a feeling so cold and raw that his mind twisted, trying to cover itself with his own lies. And it showed clearly on his face.


    The woman standing behind Buck nodded at his emotions, having gone through the same ordeal when she was young. Many are unable to wake up as humans after synchronization and lose their personality and humanity.


    After a brief hesitation, her voice grew stronger, as if trying to offer some comfort.


    "Abyss Spawn number one hundred and one, Buccaneer, as a representative of the state military forces, I am here to initiate a forced synchronization with the current queen of your nest. Should you fail to expel her command from your system, I will also be your executioner. And I assure you, I will not allow her to lay a finger on anyone if you get controlled¡ªthat, I promise. So, fight¡­ and show her what we''re made of."

 Chapter 2 - Dying Star

    Normally, the Abyss Spawns have empty nests, as most of the creatures from the lower floors were wiped out during the War of the New World, which broke out shortly after the Abyss was discovered. They were either annihilated by creatures from the upper floors or by humans after the invention of firearms. Because of this, at the very least, the ruling queen is dead, if not all her offspring along with her.


    The mere fact that the queen''s nest remains alive after all this time shows that she is either strong enough not to have been killed or stealthy enough to deceive even the Abyss creatures. Neither option is ideal.


    ¡ª So, what should I do? Could I at least bring a weapon? Though, I doubt a pistol would be effective in a mental battle.


    A small laugh escaped from the lips of the tall woman, catching her off guard, revealing dimples on her cheeks.


    ¡ª Ha! Good to see you''ve got an exotic sense of humor. There''s no manual on this, but I''m sure it''s the crazy ones who survive the synchronization the most. And by the looks of it, you''re one of them.


    Did she just call me crazy? Crazy? Coming from someone who not only survived synchronization but also went into the Abyss herself and lived to tell the tale?


    ¡ª Well, I assume you''ve already said goodbye to anyone significant to you, right? Since you were waiting for the government''s answer right here in the plaza, outside the department building. If not, you''d better do it now¡ªit might be your last time seeing them.


    A significant person? Good one.


    ¡ª Please, follow me. We''re going to the room where you''ll get your chance to fight these damned beasts.


    In silence, he nodded and started walking behind the intimidating woman. Her rank must have been quite high¡ªnot only did the soldiers bow to her, but even Lieutenants and Captains, people who had fought creatures of at least Lower Classification from the first and second floors, which were dangerous enough to easily crack concrete walls with sheer force. Some of these creatures even resisted shots from smaller calibers.


    After passing through various areas of the police department, Buck was led to a room in the basement that seemed to have been used as a shooting range. Inside, there was only a medical bed and an IV bag where the targets should have been, near several bullet holes.


    ¡ª This city doesn''t have the full infrastructure to contain an Abyss Spawn, so I requisitioned the shooting range they used for target practice to be your temporary room. It might not be the house you wanted, but we''ve got a clean bed and a safe place for you.


    ¡ª That''s fine. I''m already surprised they''re giving me a real mattress, raised off the floor. I haven''t seen one of these since the first few weeks after the Great Abyss Rescue.


    Buck dressed in a strange white garment that resembled a skirt. He didn''t want to show it, but honestly, it hurt his masculinity a little. He imagined how everyone he knew would laugh at him if they saw him like this. Then he lay down on the bed.


    ¡ª I just want one thing before anything.


    The mysterious woman nodded, giving Buck her full attention.


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    ¡ª Don''t let anyone else enter this room besides you. Not even the department head. My life in this city is on the line if that happens.


    After all, I don''t want anyone spreading rumors about me wearing a skirt or anything like that.


    The figure, despite her confusion, agreed to the boy''s request and then prepared a box beside his bed filled with strange locks.


    Buck didn''t recognize it, as it was his first time seeing one, but the box was an Abyss containment relic. Little is known about how such an advanced society fell into ruin, but its items were buried and even used as a type of religious totem by the creatures throughout the Abyss.


    After removing all the locks, inside the box lay two items, preserved in a firm gelatinous substance that had been precisely cut to fit each relic. The most visually striking object was a small metal plate with a complex design. Though it was made of pure metal, it appeared fragile, yet heavy and highly decorated. Its outer part had several intricate pathways connecting every side of the piece, forming an indecipherable pattern for Buck.


    Even though it caught his eye, the object that left him most uneasy was the gigantic syringe filled with an unsettling blood-red liquid, thick in texture. Before he could complain about the size of the injection, the military agent, as if she had forgotten something, suddenly shouted in surprise.


    ¡ª Oh, right! I almost forgot something important; my brain is decaying with time.


    A hearty laugh escaped her lips.


    Something felt wrong. Buck didn''t know what it was, but his entire body¡ªespecially his instincts¡ªscreamed at him to run, as if the worst was about to happen.


    ¡ª Actually, I just remembered¡ªI haven''t said goodbye to the librarian who helped me with my books all this time. I think I should go before anything else.


    But before he could get up, a colossal, strong hand grabbed his torso, squeezing the air out of his lungs and leaving him immobile.


    ¡ª It''s truly a pity, but maybe you''ll survive, Abyss Spawn. This way, instead of saying goodbye, you could say you returned home safely¡ªas a new person. Less monstrous, more human.


    Before Buck realized it, his arms and legs were tied to the medical bed with thick ropes, burning his skin slightly as they tightened, causing him to let out a cry of agony.


    Is this the end? Did they think I was so weak they wouldn''t even give me a chance to fight the queen?


    ¡ª Please, listen! I''m sure I can kill that creature. Just give me a chance. Even if I fail, you can easily kill me, right?


    A confused look appeared on the powerful woman''s face, which then turned into a malevolent, predatory smile.


    ¡ª You got it all wrong, little brother of the Abyss. I''m still giving you your chance¡ªI would never take that from one of us.


    Buck, struggling against the ropes, reiterated with concern:


    ¡ª Then why am I tied up?


    ¡ª Because I don''t want you fighting the vaccine, of course! Look, Buck, it''s designed to make creatures like us human. It''s a vaccine that leaves us powerless to our own opinions¡ªand better yet, it gives us a higher chance of surviving synchronization. Isn''t that wonderful?


    Buck''s face turned pale as he realized that the drug could turn him into an empty shell, devoid of feelings and desires, moldable at the whim of his captor.


    The worst part for him wasn''t the eternal control but the fact that he would forget everything about himself and his surroundings, including the stories he had read and heard. All that would remain were the fragments they deemed necessary for a good soldier.


    ¡ª No, please, not that. Anything but that. It''s all I ask-


    He found himself in a dire situation, like a creature trapped in a cage with its natural predator, hoping for a clean, quick death but instead being devoured vigorously.


    As he struggled against the ropes and the hand pressing the air out of his lungs, a swift and precise injection pierced his neck, delivering the metallic red liquid into his system.


    From that moment on, he was no longer the boy he once was. He had become just another hollowed creature, deeply sedated. His world crumbled, and with it, his vision and dreams were swept away in a flood of forgotten memories and passions that had once belonged to him.


    His eyes rolled back, offering one last glimpse at the memories that would soon be lost. His entire life flashed before his eyes, as if in that moment, his true self had died. No family, no friends, no one to hold him as the cold arms of death embraced him.


    With a final, desperate scream that sent the titan''s hand flying upward, he awoke as a new being, almost like a newborn, though with just enough innate survival instincts. The first thing he saw now etched into his memory was a police shooting target poster shaped like a deer, with two bullet holes in its head and dozens that had torn through where its heart should have been.


    His eyes stared at the deer for hours until his screaming stopped, and he began to rest. His composure was shattered into countless pieces that would never fit together again, leaving him in a trance, awaiting a reaction from his environment. Searching for a purpose.


    A tall, old but graceful woman finally returned to his room, checking if he was ready for her to enjoy herself. She was now without her overcoat, revealing a buttoned-up dress shirt made of glossy black leather, from a creature of the Abyss.


    ¡ª And now, Soldier one zero one, who are you?


    ¡ª Piece.


    ¡ª What do you feel toward humankind?


    ¡ª Hate.


    A punch hard enough to break his cheekbone connected instantly with his face.


    ¡ª What do you feel toward humans?


    ¡ª Submission.


    ¡ª What would you give your life for, if necessary?


    ¡ª Orders.


    ¡ª And like a good boy, you will receive orders only from the federation, never from the Abyss creatures, little brother. Now, repeat after me.


    ¡ª ...Orders.


    ¡ª Immutable.


    ¡ª ...Submission.


    ¡ª Duty.


    ¡ª ...Piece.


    ¡ª Myself.

 Chapter 3 - Sols Hope

    Amidst the repetition, hours or even days passed. Now, the words had lost their sound; all that remained was their meaning, floating like dust within the room, inhaled into Buck''s lungs.


    Lying on a white gurney was the body of the past Buck, now known as Soldier One Hundred and One. Static and soulless, hollow.


    Beside him, a military agent, now wearing her open trench coat, held a golden tweezer, carefully gripping a curious object, slowly hovering above Buck''s chest.


    The relic was then placed upon his torso, and to the static boy''s surprise, it automatically sank into his flesh, like a stone thrown into water. Before he could react in fear, his body became immobile, his eyes blinded, and his nerves turned inside out.


    The fragile relic seemed to connect to Buck''s nervous system, causing excruciating pain that would have made him grind his teeth if he weren''t paralyzed by it. His spine felt as if it were exploding with pure electricity coursing through it, provoking various stimuli that rendered his body unstable.


    Then, suddenly, the world began to crack, not just that but also to melt, dragging Buck into a massive, cacophonous spiral, like a pool being drained.


    All he could do was think, and even that was becoming difficult. His sense of identity seemed to have been completely melted away and digested by something unknown that longed for his destruction.


    Something told him not to lose consciousness, but what reason was there to fight against his sleep? Had that command been given before he became paralyzed? He couldn''t remember.


    His last command had been to resist the queen; thus, he could not succumb to unconsciousness. After all, losing consciousness while synchronizing with a creature that wished to control his body by force was a terrible idea.


    And so began his struggle to maintain sanity. His mind seemed to agitate the liquid surrounding him, producing muffled sounds and images that distorted the moment they were formed.


    Buck no longer remembered who he had once been, but these images were drawn from his painful past, aiming to mentally break him.


    The situations he most feared had either happened or were about to happen, projected into his mind with horrendous and distorted images of what he had once loved or perhaps had loved at some point.Stolen novel; please report.


    Even unfamiliar with all the situations appearing in his head, the mere act of resisting an insane amount of information was slowly driving him mad, with memories being flung simultaneously in groups, lingering in his mind for hours before being replaced by the next batch.


    In panic, as if pleading for help, he unconsciously imagined the outstretched hand of the soldier who had saved him from the Abyss, but it twisted until its mouth revealed a maw full of sharp, malformed fangs. What had once been an antenna on his ear, a device meant to receive radio signals, had morphed into horns sprawling in all directions, greedily claiming everything for itself.


    After what felt like hours of psychologically crushing experience, he found himself kneeling and gasping, staring at the low ceiling of a cavern made of raw marble. The darkness didn''t scare him, as all could see within it, but it wasn''t exactly pleasant for his eyes after so long in a room filled with blinding yellow sodium lights. Moreover, everything was still a bit blurry, as there was no light nearby, making it difficult to distinguish shapes and colors.


    Writhing on the ground, suffering from a headache that would make anyone double over, he realized he could now move, and the mattress felt harder than the gurney he had been sleeping on and the hospital gown he used had disappeared, leaving him completely naked.


    Before he could fully process the complex layers of pain coursing through his body ¡ª and more importantly, where he was ¡ª something hidden before him startled him, so terrifying it made him forget all the pain he had just endured.


    In front of him, just a few steps away, the exit of that narrow cavern seemed to glow, not in a mystical way, but with a literal, blinding warm yellow light.


    Any sane person would fear such a bright light within a cavern, especially one so strong and intense. Lights of that caliber were produced by gigantic oceans of magma or even by insane creatures that used light to lure their prey. A light at this level could mean that the nest from which Buck came belonged to them, with hundreds, perhaps thousands of those monsters waiting to tear him apart the moment he exited the small cavern, before he even had a chance to see the queen and curse her with his last breath.


    Before he could run deeper into the narrow raw marble cavern where he was, trying to save himself from those lurking creatures, or from magma explosions that could sear his flesh, or even from something he didn''t even know existed ¡ª after all, the Abyss had never been fully documented ¡ª a cold breeze gently embraced his skin. It came from the blinding light that terrified him so much, bringing with it delicate objects he had never seen before.


    They were extremely light, floating in the air as if dancing to a calm, dramatic tune. Their shape vaguely resembled a star, as he had seen in a fairy tale book, though it was obviously not one. Their serrated geometry bore a yellow-orange hue, reminiscent of gold, yet opaque, with a certain transparency allowing light to pass through.


    Buck froze, wondering what such a creature from the Abyss could be ¡ª so delicate, yet capable of surviving in such a deadly food chain. He couldn''t help but compare himself to that being. After all, if something that appeared so weak could survive there, perhaps he could as well.


    Slowly, he approached and quickly grabbed one, reasoning that perhaps the creature would be swift and try to escape. But that was not the case. The thing remained still, moving slightly as the gentle gusts of wind brushed against it.


    Upon touching its exterior, Buck felt a sense of surprise. It was both firm and smooth, and somehow, it brought him comfort. The mere existence of something so beautiful made him come back to himself, reminding him that he had come to this place precisely to fight or die trying. And if fate had placed him in a precarious situation, he would make the impossible possible. For his survival would not only save him from disconcerting torture but also those in the police department, anxious to combat a possible Abyss Spawn controlled by a bloodthirsty queen.


    ¡ª Well, I think I owe you one now. I will give you a name, of course. It would be rude to keep calling you "creature", and confusing.


    An idea shone in his mind and lingered, as if it were an immutable name, unable to be replaced by any other.


    ¡ª I know! Your name will be Sol. In reference to the greatest star of the fairy tale!

 Chapter 4 - Version of Self

    Buck, sitting on the ground, now pondered how he could survive in this unknown area of the abyss. He had no companions capable of helping him, nor basic knowledge of the place, like where to find water pockets or weak creatures he could hunt.


    His first thought was to craft some kind of knife from broken stones that might be scattered around by erosion or earthquakes. He needed a way to defend himself or, at the very least, leave a mark on some creature¡ªsomething that might one day be remembered, a scar etched into its hide. But the marble caves here appeared to have been formed by water erosion. Channels of water shaped the geography, leaving the walls smooth, devoid of loose stones. Worse yet, the few stones that had been broken by tremors seemed to have been crushed by the creatures that once roamed through, leaving only tiny fragments behind.


    His stomach growled loudly, reminding him he hadn''t eaten in a long time. This struck him as odd¡ªhe distinctly recalled eating something with the officers before the synchronization, a banquet held to wish him luck.


    Of course, that was a false memory, a product of his subconscious trying to patch the gaps in his mind with warm, happy memories.


    Sweet lies for bitter hearts¡ªthat''s what he had learned in the past, living despised by everything and everyone. No matter how hardened the soul talking to you, blind kindness was like a pacemaker, forcing the heart to beat as it should. With a heart full of bitterness toward the world, Buck unconsciously lied to himself, crafting sweet memories so potent they''d make anyone diabetic. After all, he knew himself best¡ªor at least he used to¡ªand he knew his weaknesses.


    He imagined how he would starve to death before even getting the chance to spit in the face of that vile creature if things continued as they were.


    That''s when a memory surfaced in his mind: perhaps the fungi of the abyss were at least similar to those that grew in the outskirts of the city.


    Having lived on the streets and survived on his own, Buck had developed a decent knowledge of the local flora in the city. He had endured numerous food poisoning episodes and even encountered some toxins that would have been lethal to most. Through that, he''d devised his own techniques to determine if something was edible.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Finally, he glanced back at the large, glowing, yellow light at the tunnel''s end, from where Sol had appeared. If it really was a river of magma, he might even find some rock-eating mollusks living there, and the thought teased his taste buds. He imagined cooking a stew of mushrooms and oysters.


    Moving stealthily across the rough marble terrain, Buck crept closer, his heart pounding harder with each step, his throat tightening with fear. His breath grew ragged, and his sense of space grew distorted, causing him to stumble over his own feet with every step. At last, he reached the mouth of the small cave where he had been hiding.


    The light pierced his eyes, blinding him for a moment, leaving him vulnerable to any cave creature that might have been lurking nearby. But instead of danger, something else warmly awaited him: a massive forest of strange, colossal stalagmites, thicker than ancient books made from concrete slabs, and as tall as the watchtowers that loomed over the cities, their lights sweeping the streets. These giant formations were covered with creatures like Sol¡ªsome golden, others red¡ªthat exuded a feeling of grandeur.


    Yet what caught Buck''s attention most was the source of the light that had piqued his curiosity. A bioluminescent liquid flowed through veins in the ground, glowing a brilliant emerald green. As it reflected off the tiny creatures, it created a golden hue, forming a breathtaking, otherworldly landscape.


    In his mind, not even the most deranged author could have crafted such a pure yet complex beauty within this sedimentary rock biome. He was left speechless.


    As he walked slowly, awestruck, Buck accidentally tripped over one of the small veins of liquid, falling to his knees into it. For the first time since synchronization, he gazed at his reflection, finally answering some lingering questions.


    His face, though similar, looked different. His eyes no longer bore the pitch-black circles beneath them, his lips were more hydrated, free from cracks, and even his skin appeared healthier than ever.


    However, there were differences beyond just this, beyond the obvious point that this version of him was far more attractive¡ªlike a high-class gigolo that even men would pay for his services. The young man reflected in the water was muscular, like a sculpture, and his hair was an ivory color, loose, long, and well-groomed. His eyes were as sharp as a razor''s edge, slicing through the personalities of anyone he looked at, dissecting them into uniform pieces for study. In contrast, Buck''s own eyes were wide and filled with terror, like those of a creature at the bottom of the food chain.


    He touched his face as if unable to believe what he saw, wondering how he hadn''t noticed the drastically different length of his hair before. It seemed his senses still hadn''t fully returned. After all, he wasn''t anything like the angelic figure staring back at him from the water''s surface.


    He realised something dangerous had happened when he tripped.


    Oh, the liquid fell into my mouth.

 Chapter 5 - Hidden Danger

    Oh, the liquid fell into my mouth.


    A critical thought struck him. If it seemed that this body hadn''t gone through all the experiences he remembered, did that also mean his stomach wasn''t as resistant to toxins as before?


    In moments like this, Buck''s past experiences would have advised him to stay still and wait for the mysterious liquid to take effect. But he no longer had that luxury. His vision was already beginning to blur from dehydration, and his stomach growled louder with each passing moment, making a dangerous and echoing sound.


    Scarcity left him with no safe options. He would have to venture deeper into the central part of the natural labyrinth.


    Sneaking beneath stalagmites, Buck moved silently forward, careful not to step on loose stones or slip on the small streams of emerald liquid. His eyes were sharp, searching for signs of water or the tracks of any creature he could hunt¡ªor might need to flee from.


    But instead, he found something far more mysterious and veiled.


    A colossal, grey sepulcher pierced the flesh of the earth. Even from a distance, just gazing at its structure and eerie form filled him with an instinctive fear, a primal chill that crawled down his spine.


    He knew he shouldn''t go near that place. His body trembled in fear, as if warning him of the danger that emanated from the tomb.


    Whatever lay inside that sepulcher wasn''t friendly, and Buck was certain it wouldn''t disturb his own quest for survival. After all, he wasn''t suicidal. So, he slowly backed away.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    But something felt strange about the area surrounding the ruin. There were none of the Star Creatures here, only empty stalagmites.


    He knew it was wrong, but he might never get another chance to be so close to such a place. Perhaps the information hidden among that sepulcher could one day save him from certain death.


    As he examined one of the nearby stalagmites, he noticed numerous holes running from top to bottom.


    Did this mean that the small creatures were feeding on the stone to extract nutrients?


    He held the delicate Sol in his hands, thoughtful. It didn''t seem possible that something so fragile could break down and feed on such hard rock.


    Inspecting one of the groups of creatures clinging to the stalagmites, Buck used his hands to carefully pry one loose, surprised by how tough its shell was¡ªalmost as hard as calcite.


    Pulling one out slowly, Buck was startled. A sharp, long beak, like a needle, emerged from the rock along with the creature. It was different from the light and innocent Sol. On the contrary, this one was heavier, more frightening, and sturdier.


    As he fully dislodged it, a faint stream of bright emerald liquid oozed from it, to Buck''s amazement. It looked like the same liquid that trickled through the streams and veins of the labyrinth.


    Gazing at the heavy, still creature in his hand, Buck''s mouth watered. Could these things be edible?


    He had never considered the Star Creatures worth eating before, given how ridiculously light Sol was. But now, everything had changed.


    Stamping down on the creature''s outer shell with all his strength, he cracked the thin, keratinous casing. But inside, there was nothing¡ªjust dust.


    An empty shell. Had he been unlucky?


    Buck gathered a few more of the creatures, throwing them to the ground and stomping on them again with all his might.


    Empty.


    Something was gnawing at him, making him more and more anxious as he continued to break those hollow shells.


    What was the reason there was nothing left inside this biome but these creatures? And there were no tracks of anything else either.


    His strength faded with each passing moment. Hunger, and especially thirst, were weakening him further and further.


    Then a thought occurred to. Buck wondered why he had ended up in the Star Creatures'' nest. After all, it was the only place nearby where there were living creatures. Did that mean the queen he was supposed to subdue was really so weak? If that were the case, perhaps fate had finally taken pity on his continuous misfortune over the past seventeen years.


    But what if this wasn''t a nest of creatures, more like a place where they came to shed their skins, leaving their old husks behind? Did that mean they could grow larger and larger? What was the maximum size these creatures could reach, and how many of them were roaming the abyss?


    As if mocking his realization, a small stone fell from the ceiling of the enormous hall, landing right next to him.


    With everything he had discovered, Buck had never thought to look up.

 Chapter 6 - Last Cry

    As if fate itself were mocking his future, a small stone fell from the ceiling of the enormous chamber, landing right beside him.


    With all the discoveries he had made, Buck had never once thought to look up.


    And there, above him, as he strained his eyes to glimpse what lay hidden in the darkness, his legs gave way beneath him, and his once vibrant red skin paled into a lifeless hue.


    For an Abyss Spawn to break free from a Queen during synchronization, it was said, according to the scarce reports from those who survived, that one must kill one of the creatures under her control and use its body to inflict a wound on the Queen herself. For that reason, the number of people who had ever escaped synchronization could be counted on one hand, and they usually became central figures in their battalions afterward.


    But what Buck saw above him didn''t seem like an ordinary soldier.


    For God''s sake¡ª is that thing an Unstable?


    From various field studies, military intelligence had uncovered patterns among creatures killed on the first level during the war. They always seemed to be divided into evolutionary castes, like ants born with a specific job.


    But unlike ants, an extremely small number of these creatures were able to evolve into higher categories by absorbing the power of the creatures they hunted. This led to the creatures being classified into five tiers, where the closer a creature resembled a Queen, the more powerful it was.


    In this case, an Unstable was second-tier, and they were often even more dangerous than the class above them¡ªnot due to the amount of damage they could inflict, but because of how they acted.


    Second-tier creatures, as their name suggested, were "Unstable." With newfound power coursing through their bodies, they became overconfident and aggressive, killing not just out of necessity but for the thrill and to assert dominance.


    Above Buck, hidden in the darkness, a creature no one had ever lived to describe moved stealthily with razor-sharp legs that pierced the smooth vault of the cave. A colossal being crowned with the small star-creatures¡ªyet unlike the empty exoskeletons, these creatures still moved, undulating and glowing with vibrant light from their polished shells. The creature wearing the crown was grim, with a body riddled with deformed holes that created a concave illusion, its eight-legged joints bound together by the small creatures acting as bandages. Its four eyes rolled erratically, unable to focus on anything concrete, as if it wanted to eliminate any movement it detected.


    Buck''s worst nightmare had come true in that moment. The creature''s four eyes stopped rolling and focused together, locking onto the pale yet striking human below.


    The Sol''s Parasytes on its body bristled, shifting colors as if awaiting something in response, their chromatic bodies shimmering.


    Before Buck could fully grasp the myriad grotesque details of the creature, one of its massive legs scythed downward, aiming to slice him in two. Given the speed of the strike, his body was certain to be cleaved in half without effort.


    Lying on the ground, Buck had no other choice¡ªthe vertical slash was impossible to dodge.


    His mind raced through a flurry of memories: people, places, experiences, and, worst of all, the realization that he had never truly been recognized or loved by anyone throughout his entire life.


    He had suffered his whole life, ever since he was saved from the abyss. Even parental love had been neglected. So why, at the end of it all, did he still care so much for people?


    ...Ah yes, the soldier who saved me. He''s the reason I never gave up all this time.


    The image of a soldier telling wild tales around a campfire, wielding a chicken drumstick like a triumphant sword, expressive and bold, appeared before his eyes.


    That soldier always claimed he would one day be on the front pages of every newspaper and that even biographies of his life would become epic tales for future children.


    He would surely be disappointed if I died so young¡ªhe wouldn''t forgive me if I didn''t at least fight bravely, as he would have done without hesitation.


    But unfortunately, I''m not like that hero. I''m a coward, produced by the fear and hopelessness of the industrial city.


    Like a toad in boiling water, I''ve been cooking myself to the point where my legs are useless and my eyes are blind. In the end, my life was always meant to end like a tasteless meal with no sides or seasoning. Bland.


    That''s how I have expected to die. Right after coming of age, killed by abyssal beasts in a forsaken hole, thrown away never to be remembered by anyone.


    A massive fight-or-flight response surged through him. His consciousness had given up, but his body still fought back. He didn''t want to die¡ªhe would never submit to the fate that had been laid out for him since birth.


    Lines can be erased, but the stars of a constellation will still shine. A celestial body is not governed by the lines connecting it to others¡ªit decides where the lines are drawn. It determines its shape, color, position, and ultimately when it will disappear.


    After all, a star can only die by its own hands.


    And so, Buck used one of the stalagmites as support and leapt with all his strength, dodging the scythe that, upon striking the rock, created a deafening, almost metallic sound. The impact shattered the brittle stone, causing a cascade of emerald liquid to erupt, splashing over both bodies.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    His hands and feet were injured from the force exerted against the jagged rocks, and a burning sensation spread through his wounds as they came into contact with the liquid.


    Despite the pain, his adrenaline kept it at bay. In fact, he felt free, rejuvenated, alive. Is this how someone on the brink of death feels? Alive?


    The creature seemed pleased with the human''s sudden awakening, as if it had been awaiting a fight for a long time. But to its misfortune, the boy picked up the shard of stone and ran with everything he had, as if his life depended on it¡ªbecause it did.


    He had realized something crucial about this biome: the liquid geysers. For some reason, they erupted when under stress, meaning there was gas trapped near the source.


    Buck ran toward the place he least expected to approach¡ªthe great tomb¡ªusing the many stalagmites to his advantage, dodging the creature''s increasingly loud attacks. The beast was enraged, and it probably would have roared if it could.


    ¡ª Damn! I hope this tomb is strong enough!


    He ascended the steps, the structure appearing as if frozen in time. The dark-gray stone had not suffered the erosion the marble of the cave seemed to have endured, yet it held an opaque tone, unmarred by any deformities. Now, upon closer inspection, he could make out small carvings on the stone¡ªcompletely nonsensical and chaotic, as if representing unnatural forces. But all these engravings led to a single point: the interior of the mausoleum.


    The doors appeared heavy, made of solid rock, adorned with a blood-red crystal that had been crafted to resemble blood flowing from the inside of the mausoleum outward.


    Running with all his might, Buck braced himself to push the door, even just a little, enough to slip inside.


    But when he put all his kinetic force into the push, a crackling sound came from his arms, which had slammed against the rock. His forearms snapped, and he hadn''t even come close to opening the veiled tomb.


    Argh!


    Glancing behind him, the Unstable creature was closing in, its legs pounding aggressively against the ground, thrashing about like an enraged child throwing a tantrum at its parents.


    Buck was about to attempt something insane, and if he missed by even a millimeter, his life would end right there.


    He stood face-to-face with the monster charging toward him, making sure to position himself in the center of the doors. If his hunch was correct, the creature wouldn''t be able to strike him diagonally¡ªits joints seemed too rigid, incapable of attacks requiring moderate flexibility or precise motor actions.


    The Unstable came at full force, climbing the stairs with its elongated, scythe-shaped limbs, emitting a metallic sound like a pickaxe striking hard crystal, its legs sliding along the slick rocks of the tomb, causing it to lose control, unable to stop on its own.


    Its right scythe was preparing a downward, vertical strike that would cleave the boy in two effortlessly.


    But instead of the expected outcome, Buck sprinted beneath the creature, and the scythe embedded itself in the crack between the doors, lodged firmly by the sheer force of the blow. The monster was stuck.


    Of course, not without a cost.


    The speed at which Buck could react was nowhere near enough to save himself entirely. As he dashed towards the creature''s abdomen, several sharp legs were flailing aimlessly, desperately trying to latch onto something. It was at this moment that the young boy passed close to one of them. The sheer force of the scythe grazing him was enough to create a massive gash on his thigh, from which blood poured out like a red waterfall.


    But he had expected this since the begging. He had never thought this body would survive. All he needed was to hurt the queen with her own offspring, to break free from his synchronization. However, if the queen died, along with her entire nest, there would probably be nothing left to synchronize with in the first place. So he screamed:


    ¡ª You dumb beast! You think I''m just another toy for your amusement, don''t you? A weak insect not even worth the effort of a quick kill. But you should''ve killed me while I wasn''t watching. You played too long with your food, and now, I''ll make sure your nest burns down with me.


    Taking cover beneath the creature''s body, Buck hurled the fragment of the stalagmite with all his strength toward the doors, directly in front of the monster''s face. There, where the two rocks touched, a small spark flickered into the air, as if performing a delicate, dramatic dance. Its shape vaguely resembled a falling star, like the ones he had seen in fairy tale books¡ªthough, of course, it wasn''t one. It seemed to have come here to fulfill his wish. That was the purpose of a falling star: to give the weak one last chance to live.


    And as the spark descended into the darkness, the condensed gas within the biome''s concave structure ignited, following the path of the spark, producing a growing tail of fire, expanding with every millisecond.


    The gas escaping along with the liquid was flammable.


    And in a fiery explosion, the spark enveloped the chamber with its final glow, taking with it everything that had once been important to the creatures of that nest. The final sacrifice of the black lamb, driven by pure hatred and a refusal to be controlled by the queen.


    The entire level of the abyss trembled that day, mourning the star that had flickered out.

 Chapter 7 - Gardens Spawn

    The world stopped.


    So, this is what dying feels like?


    Buck now saw the creature slowly being consumed by flames. The sparks danced in front of its grotesque face as he lay beneath it, bleeding out, pale, shriveling, dying. His femoral artery had been sliced vertically, leaving him with zero chances of survival.


    The smooth stone beneath his feet, once freezing cold, now grew warmer as his blood pooled beneath him. His legs tingled with numbness, forcing him to collapse to his knees.


    Wait, I fell¡­ but the flames are still frozen in place¡­


    He dragged himself weakly toward the creature. His legs had grown too frail, and his head felt weightless, adrift from the blood loss.


    When he saw its face, the expression was priceless. The Instable creature wore a genuine look of fear. Pure, unfiltered terror gripped its features, mirroring those of any mortal facing death.


    In the end, monsters were living beings too¡ªand like all living beings, they feared death.


    Buck managed a sharp, wide grin.


    Ha¡­ I must be the first to see an Instable so afraid. Surely, that alone would earn me a heroic title. Maybe something like "The Terror of the Stars" or something equally dramatic.


    Of course, that would only happen if he lived to tell the tale. And in truth, he was dying alone. Not even "she" could stand by him now.


    He looked at his leg, at the gushing wound, and, like the creature, he felt a deep-seated fear of his lifeblood ceasing its flow¡ªbecause it would mean his undeniable, naked death.


    Why had he done all of this? He no longer remembered. The blood loss had muddled his mind beyond recognition.


    But something within him stirred¡ªa dormant feeling now clawing its way to the surface. A pure, primal hatred denied even the right to exist.


    Yet he couldn''t recall what he even hated. The vaccine injected into his body seemed to be working.


    At that moment, his blood began to move. Though it still poured from his body, it was also being drawn into the stone of the mausoleum beneath him, seeping into the cracks of its blocks, which now pulsed faintly as if alive¡ªbreathing anew.


    The pulsation grew stronger, sending a massive tremor across the biome of the abyss.


    [Destiny Synchronization with the Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora complete.]


    A voice? Who are you?


    Please, help me! I don''t want to die, not here, not now! I still have so much to do¡­


    [Request for activation authorized. Opening information window.]


    ---


    Name: Buccaneer


    Stardust: 10/10


    Succession: Lesser


    Bond: [ ]Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Singularities: [Mystic Vessel]


    Relics: [Synchronization Core], [False Blood], [Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora]


    Destiny: [The Failure of SOU]


    [Insufficient sacrifice detected. Forced consumption of owned relics and Destiny initiated.]


    The sepulcher glowed, revealing intricate golden lines hidden within its gray stone. Its once blood-red crystal now appeared molten, spilling over to further stain the mausoleum, deepening its taint with the blood and sacrifices it had claimed.


    Buck felt his soul slipping away, an all-too-familiar sensation from the beginning of the synchronization. But this time, there was no resisting it. The agony wasn''t merely physical¡ªhis soul itself seemed to be shredded by merciless claws.


    Every part of his being was painfully reshaped. Each cell became an instrument, and the relic was the composer, tearing them apart, rearranging, and evolving them.


    [Astral Body created. Welcome to "Starry Garden: Ruined"!]


    ["Before its Ruin, this place was a gift to a princess who craved the power of magic but could not wield it herself. Thanks to a trickster who sought to steal its power, the garden was corrupted and abandoned to an infinite void. All that remains is its fragmented structure and its starlit skies."]


    Buck''s body slowly reformed from a swirling dust that drifted toward the garden''s center, where a small podium stood. The garden was a blend of sandstone-carved platforms embracing lush flowerbeds, though blackened roots of a dark power spread everywhere, tainting the soil and fracturing the floating island amidst a starry void.


    He stood up, seeking answers. Though his steps felt like walking, it was as though his form¡ªnow mimicked by the dust¡ªdrifted toward his destination.


    [You have a choice- ce- ce- e...]


    The system of his Synchronization Core, usually crisp and reliable, faltered, its voice fading into static.


    Will I be trapped here forever without answers?


    Focusing on his body, Buck noticed the dust now flowing from his chest, while a red dust spilled from the wound on his thigh. Neither returned to him but instead drifted skyward, along with his Synchronization Core and something else he couldn''t yet identify. All of it was being drawn toward the garden''s heart.


    [You''re a resilient boy.]


    The voice changed, now higher-pitched and sinister, like that of an imp dripping with malice.


    [I''m resilient too. Perhaps we could help each other.]


    [Aren''t you tired of being used by everyone and unable to fight for your dreams?]


    [Right now, the relic controlling your memories is vanishing, along with your other synchronization relic.]


    [I am the solution to all of it.]


    ¡ª I don''t need a creature out of nowhere offering me help. I''m not stupid you see. You''re trapped here for a reason, and if so, you are a danger to some strong foes, since this place is quite... Extravagant.


    [I wasn''t trapped. I was made in this plane.]


    From the roots, a black powder emerged, swirling around Buck in a dark whirlwind.


    [Born¡­ shaped¡­ forged by this place. Denied the chance to live, created from the selfish desire of this garden to have a master. Even my creator failed me.]


    [We share that, don''t we?]


    His memories were still hazy. The vaccine''s shock was too intense to heal quickly, yet fragments began to resurface. Among them, a face stood out¡ªa woman who is a soldier and the architect of his shattered mental state.


    Buck began to say, with a heavy voice, full with frustration by everything that happenend in a course of a day.


    ¡ª I don''t know if you understand, but I''m trapped here too. Even if I agreed to your help, neither of us knows where the escape hole is.


    [I never said I didn''t know how to leave.]


    The black mist coiled, swirling toward the island''s edge, beckoning him to follow.


    Buck obeyed, stepping cautiously along the path. He passed flowers that thrived without water and statues shattered into pieces, each fragment hovering in defiance of gravity, as if refusing to touch the corrupted soil.


    At the island''s end, the path abruptly ceased. Below stretched the purest, most maddening void.


    Directly beneath the island loomed a colossal black celestial body, warping any light daring to graze its surface, devouring everything that strayed too near its core.


    [That... is your ''Escape Hole''. You only need me to shield you from the wild magic inside.]


    He stared into the endless abyss before him, contemplating the words of the shadowy entity.


    ¡ª So... the stars really exist. They''re not just fairy tales.


    His tone softened, tinged with awe.


    ¡ª Someone once wrote an epic about them. I wonder how they saw something so vast and lived to tell the tale... I owe that person a debt."


    [If someone had ventured here, I''d remember. That guy probably made it up and somehow got it right.]


    Buck said firmly, his conviction now unwavering.


    ¡ª No, I trust the one who told me that story. What he said is true. And if it isn''t... I''ll make it true. So, all I have to do is jump?


    [Yes. Together, we''ll be free.]


    With a leap of faith, Buck plunged into the infinite void. Not because he trusted the malevolent spirit, but because he clung to a soldier''s words echoing in his mind:


    "Trust your instincts. That''s how a little creature like you survives the abyss. Survive, boy, even if your destiny betrays you."


    The shadowy mist wrapped around him, constricting like an embrace, pulling him deeper into the unknown.


    Elsewhere, within the scorching desert of the abyss...


    An ancient, dust-laden tomb trembled as it received a colossal ray of light, its brilliance a symphony of golden yellow and violet-black.


    The beam struck a sphere etched with intricate, otherworldly patterns. It shimmered and ascended, reigniting the tomb''s long-dormant power.


    Golden mirrors, shaped like discs, reflected and amplified the light, directing it toward a central platform. The dais was crafted to command attention, encircled by spaces seemingly designed for an audience¡ªa divine stage for forgotten believers.


    As the twin-colored ray struck the platform''s core, its energy surged outward. From the heart of the radiance emerged a partially restored body, gasping for air.


    [True Resurrection of the ''Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora,'' corrupted by insufficient power.]


    Buck''s body bore the marks of his ordeal. Part of his neural tissue attempted to regenerate, but its complexity defied the process. What could not heal crystallized, forming black antler-like horns jutting from his prefrontal cortex¡ªan eerie, magical addition to his form.


    [Singularity ''False Incarnation'' created.]


    [Relic ''Abyssal Core'' synchronized.]


    He opened his eyes, disoriented but alive, reborn into a fractured destiny. Or into the lack of it.

 Chapter 8 - False Incarnation

    Rushing off the stage, stumbling over broken stones in the bizarre theater, a small, disfigured boy dashed away, utterly disoriented. The air around him was thick, carrying a strange metallic tang that burned his nostrils and made his shallow breaths even more ragged. His heart raced, pounding in his chest like the erratic beat of some forgotten drum, each step threatening to collapse beneath the weight of his fear.


    He ran aimlessly, climbing over random ledges only to fall from them moments later, scraping his hands and knees on jagged edges. Shadows danced on the cracked walls, twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to reach for him, mocking his futile escape. Panic surged through him as his feet skidded on the uneven ground, sending him sprawling into the dust.


    He stumbled forward again, his vision blurred with tears and sweat, until his face collided with one of the ornate golden mirrors. Its surface was etched with intricate, labyrinthine patterns, pulsating faintly with a cold, otherworldly golden light. The reflection staring back at him wasn''t entirely his own¡ªit twisted, fragmented, and reformed, showing fleeting glimpses of a distorted, monstrous visage. His breath hitched, and a sharp chill crept down his spine as he felt, for the briefest moment, that something behind the mirror was watching him.


    His bare body revealed skin marked by hypnotic spirals, evoking a sense of an addictive, tainted beauty. His face, though intact, now appeared more youthful than it had in his original form. However, what stood out the most were the crystallized black horns, tinged with a reddish hue, emerging from his frontal cortex.


    Still dazed, Buck recoiled from his reflection and struck the metallic mirror with his fist. The impact echoed like a gong, reverberating for hundreds of meters.


    The excruciating pain shot through his hand and spread across his nervous system. It reconnected disrupted pathways, restoring functions that had been scrambled during his incarnation into this body. Slowly, clarity returned¡ªor at least what passed for normalcy in his new state.


    ¡ª Argh! That old witch! I trusted her! She tampered with my memories¡ªmy memories! The knowledge, the most precious thing I had!


    His enraged screams reverberated for kilometers, raw with betrayal and fury.


    As his outburst subsided, leaving only the sound of his ragged breathing, a voice, neutral and absolute, spoke within him:


    [The ''Abyss Core'' hides from synchronization with the ruined ancient web.]


    [Your awakening has begun.]


    What does that mean? Did my synchronizer not get absorbed?


    Buck tried recalling the status window he''d seen earlier. Focusing on the thought, he was met with a peculiar sensation¡ªa vision not seen with his eyes but perceived in some other way.


    Symbols emerged, cursive runes shifting rapidly before stabilizing into the common alphabet, adapting to what felt most comfortable for him, as Buck''s eyes shines with it''s colours, letting a dim light to entry into the room.


    ---


    Name: Buccaneer


    Stardust: 0/0


    Awakening: Lesser


    Bond: [Starry Garden]


    Singularities: [Mystic Vessel], [False Incarnation]


    Relics: [Abyssal Core], [Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora]


    Destiny: ¡ª


    What is all this? Where did all these things come from?


    [Mystic Vessel] - Through a tenuous connection to ancient power, the user can produce various effects by manipulating Stardust. Sacrifices refine and temper these effects, making them less harmful to the user.


    At first glance, this ability might seem weak¡ªbut that assumption would be entirely wrong.


    Singularities, unique to each creature born in the Abyss, were often highly restrictive. Some could digest stones; rarer ones might generate fire or rock. Even then, such powers consumed immense Stardust and sacrifices, often injuring their users in the process. A flame-wielder, for example, might burn themselves as they summoned fire.


    By contrast, Buck''s Singularities hinted at limitless potential.


    Wait, do I not require sacrifices to activate my abilities? How is that possible?


    If true, this meant Buck could avoid hauling slabs of Abyssal meat or offering pieces of himself as tribute¡ªa common weakness among Abyss Spawns. His power seemed to defy these limitations.


    Yet the mention of harm to the user unnerved him. He couldn''t test the ability''s side effects just yet, but discovering them before a real battle seemed wise.


    Now, what about this second Singularity?


    [False Incarnation] - Through a ritual that shattered all taboos, your flesh and mind have been corrupted by your lack of proficiency with the relic. This maculated body and fractured mind interact strangely with Stardust, providing a glimpse of the relic''s true potential.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    This power seemed linked to his synchronization with the ''Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora'', likely granting regeneration capabilities.


    This is dangerous.


    Singularities that altered the body were the most common and often improved regeneration. But they came with severe drawbacks.


    Creatures with such powers would heal in erratic, unstable ways. Cuts became scars, which morphed into twisted flesh¡ªslowly pushing the creature closer to the Abyss Queen''s likeness. Madness always followed, consuming them entirely.


    If Buck''s regenerative power was too strong, it might thrust him into insanity after only a few injuries.


    And what about this blank ''Destiny''? Does that mean the relic devoured it?


    His memory blurred around the moment he had bled before the colossal tomb, but he recalled a voice mentioning the sacrifice of his destiny.


    Buck considered the implications of this paradox. Even dust has the destiny of being swept away; a being without destiny defied the most unyielding laws of the world. It was as if he were a smudge in the fabric of existence.


    What a way to tell me that even my creator have forgotten who I am. Maybe I should turn agnostic after this.


    Sitting there, doubting his faith, Buck absentmindedly touched his horns. They were solid yet sensitive, like fingernails. The sensation brought an odd sense of calm.


    I''d say my destiny is mocking me for giving deer antlers to a guy named Buck, but I don''t even have one¡­


    He began noticing the air¡ªa dry, suffocating heat unusual even for someone accustomed to working near molten lava at Farad-ay''s smelting plants. He wondered what place could be hotter than the searing metal rivers of that infernal factory.


    Well, I guess I need to get out of here before I dry out and turn into a crispy insect snack. It''s risky to leave without much information, even with my Singularities. They''re basically useless as long as I don''t have Stardust. I''m way too weak for this kind of thing. But I have no options.


    Rising from the stage, Buck steadied himself against nearby pillars and walls. Wherever his hands touched, faint glowing marks remained on the stone before fading away.


    As he wandered through the carved sandstone ruins, he realized this place was unlike the Abyss layer he had seen before.


    If this isn''t the Abyss¡­ then where am I?


    His hand caressed the intricate details on the stone, as if it were telling a story, while his insatiable eyes searched for answers at the end of the tunnel. The amount of light no longer seemed brighter but instead carried the familiar darkness of the caves, a comforting presence for him.


    Slowly, he became aware of his situation once again. Lost in an unknown place, unarmed, and utterly alone. Was leaving truly the best option? He questioned himself.


    But Buck knew there was little he could accomplish within an abandoned ruin.


    Suddenly, he stopped walking, struck by an idea that might mean the difference between life and death. There wasn''t much useful information inside an ancient ruin, but perhaps it held something far better than mere answers: relics buried in an uncharted place.


    Uncharted?


    Ruins were usually places that attracted creatures. If this one hadn''t been explored yet, it meant something was here, guarding it.


    His breathing grew more erratic as he slowly realized he hadn''t fallen into a safer part of the Abyss. No, he was in the worst possible place¡ªone that no one should venture into without a team of at least five Lessers. That was assuming he had landed on the safest floors. If not, much larger groups, composed of far more advanced Successions, would have been necessary.


    His eyes widened, trying to absorb as much light as possible from the surroundings, and his ears strained to catch even the faintest sound.


    He couldn''t afford to expose himself in the open. To do so would be sheer suicide¡ªthere was no outrunning a creature of the Abyss, let alone multiple ones.


    Quickly, he crept between the pillars and fallen stones that had once been part of the ceilings and broken walls. With every step, he became more aware of the pungent smell of ammonia that filled the place.


    Then Buck heard it¡ªjust a few meters behind him¡ªthe sound of hollow stones breaking and shattering. Not only that, but a deep, resonating noise, the unmistakable impact of lungs inhaling. Something was in there with him, and it was enormous.


    Slowly, he tried to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, praying it might be a creature he had heard of before. But as his eyes landed on the shadowy figure amid the dust, devouring massive bones as if they were nothing, he swallowed his prayers whole.

 Chapter 9 - Creature Visage

    Slowly, he tried to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, praying it might be a creature he had heard of before. But as his eyes settled on the shadowy figure amid the dust, gnawing on massive bones as if they were nothing, his prayers were swallowed whole.


    With large ears dripping dry, crusted blood, a gaping maw lined with jagged canines as hard as stone, and a grotesque, wrinkled nose tinted a lifeless red, the creature revealed itself¡ªa monstrous bat, feasting compulsively on a dead carcass in the middle of the room.


    Its skin was as black and lifeless as the void, yet the sparse fur on its body bore the color of sand, patchy and missing in random tufts. The exposed skin was riddled with punctures, cuts, and abrasions. Its claws, as sharp as its fangs, gouged deep marks into the sandstone as it scraped up bones from the ground. Its wings hung in tatters, riddled with holes, resembling ghostly, tattered fabric.


    A Cackling Nightwing? That''s suicide!


    Buck stared at the beast in front of him, contempt and frustration gnawing at him as he questioned the purpose of this second life. He couldn''t even run.


    He''d heard of these creatures before¡ªdeadly predators that hunted in packs, their senses of sight, hearing, and smell so keen that they could detect prey from hundreds of meters away. They were swift enough to dodge any weapon wielded by an unprepared agent.


    How did it not hear me coming?


    The biggest question pounding in his mind was how his earlier cries of rage hadn''t attracted a swarm of these beasts to tear him apart.


    Pulling himself together, he focused on the scene before him. He noticed something critical¡ªthe Cackling Nightwing was injured and appeared to be alone, separated from its pack.


    Even in its weakened state, it remained far too dangerous. Yet, Buck''s greed, the insatiable allure of killing an Abyssal creature, began to cloud his judgment, framing this reckless act as a necessary risk.


    It was true¡ªone bite from the creature could end him. Hell, it wouldn''t even need to bite; the sheer weight of the beast leaping onto him would crush him. But slaying an Abyssal predator came with rewards too great to ignore.


    Maybe¡­ it''s consumed a relic.


    Predators like this had a compulsive tendency to devour anything in sight, even rocks mistaken for prey due to their scent or appearance. This mindless gluttony often led them to consume creatures, people, or even relics they encountered while battling over ruins.


    The mere act of touching a relic could bind it to the creature, fusing it with its flesh due to their inability to properly channel Stardust.


    Then there was the Stardust itself.


    Stardust was a mysterious, luminous mist that emerged from any creature slain by another. It would unerringly seek out the one who delivered the killing blow, no matter where they were. Stardust was also generated when someone used relics or Singularities. In essence, it was pure power, present in everything born of the Abyss¡ªincluding Abyss Spawns.


    If Buck could manage to kill this creature, he''d gain Stardust to fuel his Singularities, pieces of the beast for various sacrifices, and possibly even a relic buried within its flesh.


    The risks were enormous, but the potential rewards whispered seductively in his mind.


    But he wondered how he could possibly manage it, without even a weapon.


    ¡ª Psst! You flying rat of a hag, your queen''s a shrew!


    The colossal bat seemed to ignore Buck''s failed insults.


    Ha. It''s really deaf.


    This gave Buck an idea¡ªone born of his mentally unstable mind, still slightly intoxicated with pure hatred.


    Slowly, he moved toward one of the large support beams, cracked and worn, near the pile of bones the creature was consuming.


    His eyes were wide open, fixated on every movement of the bat, not blinking even for a fraction of a second as he carefully stepped over the stones on the ground, now painful against his delicate foot that lacked the tough, natural sole he once had.


    Bloody hell! I need a shoe.


    As he reached the beam, the stench of the Abyssal creature''s body was palpable from the proximity. Buck was only a few meters away from the monster.


    With a few steps, he could stab it in the back¡ªif only he had a weapon.


    The creature seemed to be finishing off the bones, so he needed to hurry. Every second that passed increased the chance he would leave this place dead.


    Buck then gripped the pillar with both hands, putting all his strength into his legs, pushing with everything he had, making his face flush with the effort.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The ancient beam released small stones from its cracks, resisting the boy''s force. In a moment of failure, one of the tiny rocks fell under the pressure as Buck pushed the sandstone, causing his hand to slide and reveal a sharp stone shard.


    His hand started bleeding, and Buck immediately covered the wound with his other hand, but it was too late.


    While the monster devoured the carcass without mercy, its erratic movements suddenly froze, and a terrifying laugh began to escape from its toothy mouth, mimicking the grotesque sound.


    Without time to be paralyzed, Buck quickly tried to throw himself into the pillar, ignoring the pain it would cause. The sound of a collapse echoed just as the boy''s scream of pain rang out from his dislocated shoulder.


    But it was too late for a clean strike. With the scent of fresh blood flooding the creature''s nostrils, it went wild, hunting for the sweet taste of blood, far more appetizing than the rotten marrow of the bones. Because of this, the Cackling Nightwing veered away from the collapsing pillar¡ªbut not entirely.


    As it slid across the sandstone, colliding with surfaces in its frenzy to follow the scent of blood, the falling beam managed to land on one of the creature''s wings. The colossal bat unleashed an earsplitting roar so thunderous that Buck''s body vibrated, his ears filled with the deafening buzz of a thousand wasps, throwing him off balance.


    Clutching his dislocated shoulder, Buck hurled himself over the beam, taking advantage of the creature''s disorientation to escape its razor-sharp claws.


    As he landed, the creature immediately tried to snatch the Abyss Spawn clambering over its wing, its other arm swiping furiously. Instead, it tore a massive gash into the fragile membrane of its wing.


    Buck stumbled on the creature''s coarse, leathery skin, but he ran with everything he had toward the shattered bones scattered by the bat''s voracious feeding. His hands scrambled for a jagged shard about the size of his forearm, its sharp, bloodthirsty point glinting with potential.


    His bare foot scraped painfully against the rough ground as he charged forward, gripping the bone shard with all his might. The enraged creature, insulted by the human''s audacity to topple a beam onto it, lashed out. Its injuries, however¡ªespecially its wing pinned beneath the rubble¡ªrestricted its movements to slower, albeit powerful, attacks.


    The Nightwing''s descending claw sliced through the air with a whistling sound, deadly but delayed.


    Buck, his face etched with terror, sidestepped toward the buried wing. The claw gouged a massive trench in the sandstone where he''d just stood, narrowly missing him.


    With desperate determination, he clambered up the creature''s massive arm, using the bone shard as a climbing tool. Every puncture he made drew dark, viscous blood, and his free hand yanked at the creature''s sandy fur for leverage.


    Near the top, Buck knew he was out of time. He took a risky leap, propelled by sheer will.


    The creature''s gaping mouth lunged to snap him up, but it was too late. Before its teeth could close around Buck''s torso, the boy drove the jagged bone deep into its obsidian eye with all the strength he could muster.


    The instant the shard pierced the creature''s brain, its immense body convulsed violently. The force of its thrashing ripped its buried wing free from the rubble, severing part of its own arm in the process.


    Buck, clinging desperately to the creature''s head, was flung through the air, landing on the pile of bones with a sickening crunch. His back was punctured by dozens of sharp fragments.


    ¡ª Argh!


    The bat writhed uncontrollably, smashing its body against the walls and floor in a destructive frenzy.


    Buck realized with growing dread that if he didn''t finish it now, the collapsing ceiling would bury both the dying creature and himself, giving this ruined tomb it''s porpoise again.


    ¡ª Just die already you freak!


    He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain as he half-ran, half-crawled toward the thrashing creature''s head.


    Rising from his quadrupedal sprint, Buck gathered all his strength into a desperate kick, driving the bone shard deeper into the Nightwing''s skull. The creature''s massive body seized one final time, then fell still. A gust of air rushed past Buck as the bat''s colossal wing collapsed beside him, stirring his hair.


    [You have slain a Lesser Cackling Nightwing.]


    [The Stardust dances around you.]

 Chapter 10 - Butchering

    Amidst intense relief after the battle, Buck collapsed onto the creature''s body, lying down on its fur, panting and aching. His entire body felt as though it had been swept through a storm of blades. His left shoulder was dislocated, making it nearly impossible to use his left arm.


    His expressions bore the brunt of the ordeal. Horror filled his eyes, and his mouth gaped as he desperately tried to draw in as much air as his lungs could hold.


    Damn it! My left shoulder is really dislocated.


    Still breathless, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Buck bit into the creature''s wing and stepped on his own left hand to stabilize himself while teetering precariously. Pain surged through his fingers as they were crushed under his weight.


    It''s going to be okay. This happened all the time back at work¡ªpeople would dislocate their shoulders from sheer exhaustion. Putting my arm back in place shouldn''t be that different from what we used to do there.


    Life as a worker in Buck''s city had been hellish. As the capital of Farad-ay, a kingdom pioneering metalworking and mass production, the city demanded brutal labor. Dislocating one''s arm during the first week was practically a rite of passage. Especially for outsiders, it marked the moment coworkers began to acknowledge their existence¡ªif they were lucky.


    He recalled the dark factories, where the air reeked of molten metal and sweat, and every shift blurred into the next. The older workers spoke little, their expressions hardened by years of toil, while new recruits learned to suffer in silence. Injuries were common, almost expected, and medical attention was a luxury no one could afford.


    Taking a deep breath, Buck twisted his torso sharply, using all the strength in his core to push his shoulder back into place. His bones snapped and realigned with a jarring force.


    When his shoulder popped back into position, Buck let out a warrior''s cry, falling back to the ground. He bit down hard on the piece of leathery wing in his mouth, the taste wild and acrid, reminiscent of a predator. Tears of agony streaked his face as his pupils narrowed, trying to endure the pain.


    The pain far surpassed any previous injury he''d experienced. It throbbed through his arm like a cursed heartbeat, sending shockwaves of torment. Clearly, resetting his shoulder alone had been a terrible idea¡ªbut it wasn''t as though he had any other options.


    His shoulder was now inflamed, the skin around it reddened, marked by hypnotic spirals¡ªa trait unique to his altered form. Buck clutched his shoulder tightly as he struggled to his feet, careful not to bump into anything that might worsen his injuries.


    He couldn''t stop thinking why is it always like this? Why does the world feel so intent on breaking him? The thought echoed in his mind, bitter and sharp. He was no stranger to pain or despair, yet this ordeal was testing the very limits of his endurance. He had barely survived, yet it feels like death keeps chasing me.


    Though his body trembled with fatigue, Buck forced himself to move. Giving up wasn''t an option¡ªnot here, not now.


    What a wretched world. Why does everything want to kill me? Why have I faced death so many times in just a few days?¡ªHell, I even died once!


    The absurdity of his survival felt less like a miracle and more like torture. His memories were clouded, riddled with gaps. He had survived synchronization with the queen of his nest, but at a steep cost. He felt transfigured, no longer human. His body now belonged entirely to the Abyss.


    Not only had his memories been altered by a relic, but his entire being had been reshaped. What little humanity had remained in him was now gone. Abyssal offspring were only considered "people" because they were born from human wombs. But Buck''s body had been reborn through a relic, infused with the Abyss''s miasma.


    He was no longer a man but a creature. Even his system reflected this change, listing him as "Lesser" instead of "Private," the rank typically assigned to his kind.


    Bitter thoughts churned in his mind as he stared at the lifeless creature before him.


    What makes me any different from it now? If an Abyssal offspring killed me, would the system classify me as human¡ªor as one of them?


    Answers eluded him. The system didn''t speak to its users. It was enigmatic and emotionless, an entity that inspired fear in anyone who encountered it. The system wasn''t a friend¡ªit was a force with an incomprehensible purpose, seemingly indifferent to those who relied on its functions.


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    Lost in thought, Buck''s stomach growled loudly, like the roar of a thousand starving felines. Saliva pooled in his mouth before he even realized it. The creature''s body before him reawakened the hunger that had gnawed at him during his days trapped in the Forest of the Shrouded Aurora.


    But how could he possibly cut through the thick hide of the creature without an exceptionally sharp blade? Even in death, its body retained the formidable resilience of an Abyssal beast.


    Buck walked over to the pile of bones, searching for something solid and unporous. The remains were ancient and decayed, but he knew that one part of a skeleton often retained its strength, even after decomposition.


    Digging through the brittle bones with his left arm, Buck tossed aside the porous fragments of decayed remains. It was clear the skeletons didn''t belong to just one type of creature. The presence of a Cackling Nightwing in this area suggested that a fierce battle might have taken place, leaving behind a carcass for the victor to feast on.


    His hunch proved correct. Among the pile lay the massive skull of a Cackling Nightwing, its surface dried out but with a faint sheen glinting from its teeth.


    I knew there had to be one here. They''re notorious for not leaving carcasses behind¡ªthey''d never allow another creature to devour their prey.


    Using all his strength, Buck struck at one of the large canine teeth with his foot, hoping to dislodge it.


    To his relief, the sharp tooth broke free, tumbling to the ground.


    Yes! Finally, I''ll get to eat something! And it''s meat! I''ve grown so used to the taste of insects and fungi that I might die just from the sheer delight of eating real meat.


    He grabbed the tooth, carefully holding it by its unsharpened root, and hurried back to the creature''s body. His mouth watered uncontrollably, and the oppressive heat around him only added to his desperation.


    Gripping the creature''s thigh, he made an incision with all his might. The tooth bit into the dense fibers of the flesh, slicing through the skin clumsily but effectively. After some effort, Buck managed to carve out a hefty slab of meat¡ªenough to sustain him for four days.


    Now, he faced a dilemma. Should he leave the ruins to find a heat source to cook the meat, risking the attention of predators drawn to the scent of fresh blood? Or should he eat it raw and risk contracting parasites?


    I''ll have to roast it. I can''t afford to leave the ruins in this state¡ªand besides, I already have every parasite someone could possibly carry. It''s not as if¡ª


    A sudden realization struck him as a shot.


    If my body was reborn without even the calloused soles of my feet, does that mean I''m completely free of all the parasites and diseases I used to have?


    He slowly closed his mouth, pulling his teeth away from the slab of meat.


    You''ve got to be kidding me. I can''t waste this chance. My body is practically pure now, free of all that filth. People would consider me a treasure just for this fact. I could walk into any town naked and be treated with dignity! I need to cook this meat.


    Though his instincts screamed at him to tear into the flesh with his teeth, his discipline won out.


    Of course, he couldn''t leave the ruins completely exposed. His scent and appearance might attract more Cackling Nightwings lurking nearby. Using his makeshift blade, Buck began skinning the creature, intending to craft a crude cloak to camouflage himself and a sack to carry as much meat as possible.


    The process took hours and hours of labor. Lacking any skill in cutting or stitching leather, he used tendons and smaller teeth to puncture and sew the pieces together. The results were crude¡ªpatchy leather, still clinging to bits of flesh and untreated¡ªbut surprisingly durable. A work of art to a beginner


    The makeshift cloak was tied with uneven strips around his waist, accentuating his lean, slightly athletic frame. The lower edges of the cloak were jagged and riddled with holes, lending him a rough, intimidating air. A hood fashioned from the creature''s hide partially obscured his face, completing his makeshift ensemble.


    Damn it, I have no idea how to make pants. I''m wearing a dress again¡­ How could I betray myself like this.

 Chapter 11 - Desert Horrors

    Walking for hours, there was nothing around him but the reddish desert sand and the waves of heat, as intense as the furnaces of the industrial revolution. His ears caught the faint rumble of what seemed like a hallucination¡ªa symphony of voices singing and distorted instruments playing as he walked. And yet, despite the strangeness, it was beautiful.


    For me, it felt like my brain was malfunctioning. I started hearing voices whenever silence settled around myself. The part of my skull that hadn¡¯t regenerated seemed to have triggered some sort of mental illness.


    The voices chant in unknown gibberish, yet somehow, it all makes sense. It feels as if their words are intertwined with my emotions, like an extension of my own mind. They speak of how the desert craves blood, how my skin feels coarse and raw, and how my confusion and submission have brought me to this endless encore. To them, I must be nothing more than a trained dog, whining for mercy and waiting for its masters to give the command. What a pitiful, disgusting way to live.


    Unlike an average person, I was remarkably resistant to heat¡ªboth mentally, and before, physically as well. But look at me now, I¡¯m almost dying from the heat.


    Buck couldn''t fathom how anything could survive in this place, and he was almost certain the temperature alone could kill an ordinary person in a matter of days.


    But of course, for a worker of the furnaces, this environment might feel like home.


    He wondered if any of his former companions had noticed his sudden disappearance, but he quickly dismissed the thought. After all, he had been the youngest and the most troublesome of the group, contributing little in terms of brute strength and endurance. They were probably more worried that he''d fallen prey to some abyssal creature and compromised the city''s only protection against the horrors of the deep.


    Trudging through the desert with only leather to shield his feet from the scalding sand, his skin felt increasingly uncomfortable under the heat trapped by his clothes. All he wanted was to find the volcano responsible for generating all this heat¡ªif such a volcanic vein even existed in the middle of the desert. Meanwhile, the makeshift sack slung across his back felt unbearably heavy.


    His mouth cried out for water. Sweat poured relentlessly from his skin, slowly dehydrating him.


    Now he faced a new problem: he needed water before eating the dried meat in his pack. Without it, digestion would dehydrate him completely, leaving his overheated body collapsed in the desert. But with the temperature as it was, finding a liquid water source seemed impossible, and the ceiling of the cavern didn''t appear high enough to allow for the formation of rain clouds.


    I wonder where the creatures here drink water. Where in the hell could¡ª


    Buck abruptly tripped over something hidden beneath the sand, falling face-first into the ground and inadvertently tasting a bit of sand.


    Who leaves ruins lying around like this? Bloody hell!


    He spat out the coarse grains as he pushed himself up, glaring at the obstacle he''d stumbled over. But what he uncovered was far from what he had expected.


    Partially buried in the sand lay the corpse of a Cackling Nightwing, its decomposing body emitting a faint stench of rotting flesh.


    What struck him as odd, however, was that the body showed no signs of being scavenged. There was far too much meat left for a predator to have simply abandoned it.


    Scooping away some of the sand covering the creature''s face, Buck grimaced and nearly vomited. Nothing came out¡ªthere was nothing in his stomach to begin with.


    The creature''s face had been grotesquely twisted into a funeral spiral of exposed bones in the wrong places and dislocated features. At the center of this morbid spiral, embedded in flesh and veined with pulsating tissue, was a small, intensely radiant prism. The object radiated an overwhelming aura and was adorned with miniature screaming skulls, their flesh seemingly melted off their metallic, silver-colored surfaces.


    [Your Stardust is being consumed by an ownerless Relic.]


    Damn it! What? A relic?


    Fear took root in his heart. What if this relic did to him what it had done to the creature''s body? Relics were notoriously dangerous¡ªnot just to humans but to monsters as well.


    Relics were hostile to their surroundings. Upon the slightest contact with any animal life, they would attempt to fuse with their host, unless the host could control the relic''s energy beforehand. This parasitic fusion often led to horrifying transformations, as creatures stumbled upon relics while fleeing predators or navigating tight spaces.


    Backing away cautiously, Buck scolded himself for hesitating.


    Buck hesitated, his breath forming faint clouds in the cold air as he stared at the relic before him. It was a peculiar object, its surface gleaming like molten silver frozen in time. The aura it radiated was oppressive, almost tangible, pressing against his chest and quickening his heartbeat. Fear coiled within his thoughts, but something stronger pushed back¡ªa desperate need to act.


    He had witnessed horrors far greater than this relic. Memories of grotesque creatures with endless shadows stretching across the cavern walls flickered in his mind. Compared to them, this object, no matter how intimidating, seemed manageable¡ªan enigma to be unraveled rather than a nightmare to be feared.


    If such a powerful aura surrounded it, the relic must possess immense strength, perhaps even unimaginable potential. In this harsh and unforgiving abyss, power meant survival. Every hesitation, every moment wasted, could spell doom. A weapon like this could tilt the odds in his favor, offering a chance to stand against the monstrosities lurking in the darkness.


    The thought lingered, growing heavier with each passing second. Without this relic, the next encounter could be his last. The creatures of the abyss showed no mercy, and neither could he. Buck''s eyes sharpened, his breath steadying as he stepped forward, his hand reaching toward the artifact.


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    But if a Nightwing''s body couldn''t withstand synchronization, what chance did he have?


    Yet he was too unarmed to refuse the demonic artifact before him. His only weapon was a tooth¡ªutterly useless if faced with a fast and healthy creature in the desert. It would be suicide not to claim this relic.


    He approached the corpse of what had once been a mighty predator, its jaws capable of shattering every bone in his body with a single snap. Now, it lay lifeless, defeated by the small relic embedded crookedly in its jaw.


    Maybe I can use something...


    ---


    Name: Buccaneer


    Stardust: 10/25


    Awakening: Lesser


    Bond: [Starry Garden]


    Singularities: [Mystic Vessel], [False Incarnation]


    Relics: [Abyssal Core], [Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora]


    Destiny: ¡ª


    ---


    With his small reserve of Stardust, perhaps he could use his Singularities. The one he relied on most was [Mystic Vessel]. While he needed to test its full potential, he couldn''t afford to waste his diminishing Stardust on a second attempt.


    His plan was to use the decaying body of the creature to subdue the relic''s power, allowing him to touch it without undergoing forced fusion.


    It''s now or never. I only ask for luck this time.


    Placing his hands on the creature''s shoulder, Buck concentrated on activating his Singularity, uncertain if it would even respond to his desperate plea for help.


    [Sacrifice denied. You do not own this object.]


    What?


    Buck''s confusion was immense. He''d never heard of not being able to sacrifice something like this. He had always thought anything originating from a living being could be used as a sacrifice. He even remembered overhearing an Abyss Spawn negotiating the price of animal brains for its Singularity while haggling for a bag of salt at a nearby stall.


    What would even grant me ownership of something? Isn''t it just ''finders, keepers''?


    Distracted by his thoughts, Buck let his guard down¡ªat the worst possible moment.


    Quietly, a second Cackling Nightwing, buried in the sand near the corpse, emerged from its hiding place behind him. As it moved forward, human bones and skulls scattered across the red sand, revealing its ominous presence.


    The creature''s fur was stained a sticky, dried-blood red, and its face was speckled with sand grains clinging to the dried fluid, giving it a natural camouflage.


    It moved silently, its vacant eyes locked on the unsuspecting boy''s back as it navigated the bone-strewn ground.


    Then, in a sudden, ferocious attack, the ground beneath Buck erupted. A massive desert turtle emerged, its colossal jaws clamping down on the Nightwing''s neck. The force of the turtle''s lunge sent Buck and the corpse with the relic flying, as if they were nothing more than weightless rags.


    The colossal turtle, towering twice the size of the Nightwing, severed half the predator''s torso with a single, brutal bite. Blood sprayed in a vast arc, soaking everything within reach, including Buck, who found himself drenched in the sticky liquid.


    Lying on the ground, paralyzed by fear, Buck scrambled to put distance between himself and the savage reptile. But something felt off. His head seemed heavier, and to his horror, the weight wasn''t metaphorical.


    Scarlet crystallizations, resembling a pair of horns in Buck''s skull, had pierced through flesh, connecting his body to the decaying creature nearby. The softened flesh of the corpse had allowed the grotesque relic to burrow deeper, binding him in a gruesome embrace.


    Surrounded by carnage, Buck was caught between the decaying remains, the massive turtle, and the blood-drenched sand now teeming with chaos. Out of the red-stained haze, a pair of black antennae emerged, their movements slow and deliberate as a swarm of desert ants followed the scent of blood.


    The ants'' arrival brought a new layer of dread. The turtle, which had been reveling in its kill, roared in pain as the swarm descended on it, their mandibles slicing through its hardened shell with terrifying precision.


    The killing intent in the air was suffocating, even if it wasn''t directed at Buck. His instincts screamed at him to move, to survive.


    This was it. The most pure certain death.


    With no time to devise a better plan, Buck turned his focus back to the relic. He needed its power. He had no choice.


    Gripping his pack with trembling hands, he reached for the relic embedded in the Nightwing''s disfigured jaw. The moment his fingers touched it, an excruciating pain shot through him¡ªthe unmistakable agony of synchronization.


    It was the same searing torment he had experienced when the Captain had placed a relic in his chest for synchronization. This time, however, it felt more invasive, as if the relic were alive, burning its way through his veins with malevolent purpose.


    Through gritted teeth and a contorted face, Buck screamed internally, ignoring the chaotic sounds of battle around him and focusing only in one thing. His survival.


    I sacrifice all the meat in this pack! Just make this thing obey me!


    [''Mystic Vessel'' has enhanced synchronization.]

 Chapter 12 - Relics Carnage

    Near Buck, the sinful prism radiated a malevolent red aura, its intensity growing the moment it touched the lamb''s flesh. The air around him thickened, saturated with a dense and unsettling energy that clung to every breath.


    The once-whole body connected to the relic began to wither at an alarming rate. It was as though a stream was vanishing into the desert sands, the flesh dissolving until only the faintest traces of its existence remained. The prism not only drained the residual power within the corpse but also subtly siphoned the lifeforce of Buck and his meat-filled pack.


    His right hand, which clutched the relic, bore the brunt of its effects. The skin turned waxy pale, veins bulging grotesquely beneath the surface. Each passing second holding the cursed object drew him closer to an irreversible fate.


    [Synchronization with "Prism of Fear" completed.]


    The dead creature''s body, along with the meat stored in Buck''s backpack, began dissolving into a watery, grayish-orange substance. The liquid trickled into the sand as if the earth itself were eager to swallow it whole, freeing Buck''s horns from their makeshift prison in the process.


    Ahead of him, chaos raged unchecked. The battle between the turtle and the abyssal ants had turned the terrain into a war-torn wasteland. Blood and acid mingled, crafting a grotesque tableau of carnage where neither side showed signs of retreating.


    Buck realized he had a singular opportunity. With the relic in hand, he forced himself to his feet¡ªshaking but resolute. Staying here was suicide; facing the creatures head-on wasn''t even an option. He wasn''t a fighter. He lacked the training, the weapons, and even the nerve to challenge these monsters on equal footing.


    There was only one choice. He should flee for his life.


    Buck sprinted away from the conflict, keeping low and hoping to avoid notice. Frenzied thoughts raced through his mind as he calculated his odds of survival. His tattered cloak, stained with blood and sand, clung to him like a second skin. The now-empty backpack weighed him down, an instinctive burden he couldn''t yet bring himself to discard.


    The prism, once a palpable source of dread, now felt eerily silent. Yet Buck knew better than to trust this lull, it was merely the calm before the next storm.


    Then, the sound he dreaded most reached his ears. A crunch of sand followed by an unsettling hiss. Turning his head, he saw two colossal ants charging toward him. The earlier battle had consumed their attention, but now the scent of fresh blood and Buck''s frantic movements marked him as an easy target.


    He couldn''t fathom how the turtle had managed to stand against these creatures with such ease. Their shells gleamed under the abyss''s dim light, as impenetrable as polished black metal.


    Buck thought bitterly, a wry smile tugging at his lips as his feet sank into the sand with every desperate step.


    Why does life insist on rubbing my bad luck in my face?


    His fingers tightened around the prism. Perhaps it held some advantage, some hidden power that could save him. He racked his panicked thoughts for any recollection of the relic''s potential.


    [Prism of Fear] ¨C When fed with Stardust, the relic can emit an aura of terror.


    That''s it? Just fear?


    The revelation hit him like a blow. The sinister power he''d believed resided in the prism seemed nothing more than a cheap trick. A manipulative fa?ade.


    A frustrated scream clawed at his throat, but he stifled it. Making noise would only invite more predators. His desperation needed an outlet, and the only available target was the prism itself.


    Raising it defiantly, Buck channeled all his will into the relic.


    [Prism of Fear activated. Its ability "Fear" unleashed.]


    A burst of red light engulfed the surroundings, rippling outward in a suffocating wave of terror. The aura was dense, oppressive, like the cold hand of death itself.


    The fear was so unnerving that even Buck wasn''t immune. His breathing turned erratic, his eyes widened, and panic clawed at the edges of his mind. The relic''s power seemed to attack the core of his being, dredging up the darkest moments of his life.


    The weight of the aura caused him to stumble briefly, but his pursuers were not untouched. The ants hesitated, their mandibles snapping erratically as their bodies trembled. The relic forced them to reconsider their predatory instincts.


    Buck couldn''t afford to stop. Despite the growing dread within him, he ran, driven by an animalistic energy born of fear and desperation. He knew that if he faltered, he was as good as dead.


    The aura, however, wasn''t merely a shield against his enemies. It was a mirror to Buck''s own terror, amplifying his deepest fears. Memories of being ensnared by the Captain resurfaced, the helpless struggle to escape replaying vividly in his mind. His entire body shook, and his exhausted psyche teetered on the brink of collapse.


    Then he made a fatal mistake. His instincts betrayed him, and he glanced back.


    The ants, previously sluggish and hesitant, began moving again¡ªnot with the confidence of predators, but with the desperation of cornered beasts. Their multifaceted eyes gleamed dully, reflecting the crimson glow of the relic and the abyssal shadows.


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    Buck forced himself to focus. Shoving the prism into his belt, his trembling fingers ensured it was secure before reaching for the pointed tooth he had saved earlier. It was all he had to defend himself.


    The first ant lunged. Buck sidestepped just in time, plunging the sharp tooth into one of its glistening eyes. The impact produced a sickening squelch as yellowish fluid oozed from the wound.


    The creature convulsed violently before collapsing, its legs folding inward in spasms.


    [You have slain a Lesser Black Ant.]


    [The Stardust dances around you.]


    The brief relief was short-lived. The second ant wasted no time, spewing a jet of acid at Buck.


    The corrosive liquid struck his cloak, burning through the leather and searing remnants of flesh he hadn''t managed to discard. The acid bit into his skin, eliciting a silent scream as pain overtook him. He dropped the tooth, unable to hold it any longer.


    Despite the agony, Buck''s survival instincts propelled him forward.


    Ignoring the acid searing his left hand, Buck leapt desperately, landing atop the ant''s hard shell. His hands latched onto its thin antennae, gripping with every ounce of remaining strength as he yanked ferociously.


    The antennae tore free with a sickening snap, leaving the creature writhing in chaotic circles. It lashed out blindly, snapping at the air and tearing into the carcass of its fallen companion.


    But Buck knew he had no time to celebrate. His vision blurred, and his lungs burned as the adrenaline that had carried him this far began to wane. The prism''s aura dimmed, its oppressive energy receding into an eerie stillness. The silence that followed was no comfort; it was a reminder that the abyss was never truly safe.


    He scanned his surroundings, desperate for an escape. The battlefield behind him was a wasteland of destruction. The turtle''s massive shell lay abandoned, scarred, and hollow, its once-mighty presence reduced to a lifeless husk. The remaining ants regrouped, searching for new prey¡ªand Buck was next in line.


    He forced his aching legs into motion, each step feeling heavier than the last. His left arm throbbed where the acid had eaten into his skin, but he couldn''t stop. The desperation in his chest drowned out the physical pain.


    The landscape stretched endlessly, an oppressive expanse of crimson sand and faintly glowing trails of carnage. Every shadow, every flicker of movement on the horizon, sent fresh waves of fear coursing through him. The thought of escape felt as fragile as his own body, threatening to shatter under the weight of his exhaustion.


    Buck''s strength was fading. The adrenaline that had kept him alive was now betraying him, leaving him trembling and weak. He needed shelter, a place to hide and regroup.


    Then, in the distance, he spotted it: a small rocky formation rising from the flat terrain. Its jagged edges and deep cracks offered the promise of a temporary haven. It was his only chance.


    Summoning the last reserves of his energy, Buck staggered toward the formation. He stumbled, nearly falling several times, but sheer willpower kept him moving.


    Behind him, the surviving ants began to disperse. Some turned back toward the turtle''s remains, while others chased new sounds in the distance, burrowing into the sand. The reprieve was brief but vital, allowing Buck to close the gap to the rocks.


    Reaching the formation, he found a narrow opening between two jagged stones. Without hesitation, he wedged himself inside, ignoring the sharp edges that scraped his arms and sides. The small cavity beyond was barely large enough to crouch in, but it was enough.


    Safe in the darkness of the crevice, Buck finally stopped. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling in uneven heaves. The silence around him was oppressive, a stark contrast to the chaos he had just escaped.


    He glanced at his injured left hand. The acid had left deep burns, the flesh raw and inflamed. Every movement sent waves of pain coursing through him, but he had no means to treat it.


    His gaze shifted to the prism at his waist. Its faint glow mocked him, a constant reminder of the ordeal it had caused.


    "You almost got me killed," he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible in the cramped space.


    But deep down, he knew the truth. The relic had saved him. Without its terrifying power, he would never have repelled the ants or survived the battlefield.


    The overwhelming exhaustion finally took hold. Buck''s eyes grew heavy, his frantic thoughts dulling as sleep overcame him. Even as he drifted into unconsciousness, the fear lingered in his chest, a shadow that refused to leave.


    In the quiet of the crevice, Buck dreamed of stars. Points of light shimmered against a vast black canvas, forming patterns he couldn''t comprehend. The scene shifted, revealing a timeless garden beneath the cosmic display. It was an image of beauty and mystery, far removed from the horrors of the abyss.


    But the stars were fleeting, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Buck knew that when he awoke, he would still be trapped in this unforgiving world, surrounded by unimaginable dangers.


    Yet, amidst the fear and uncertainty, a faint spark of hope glimmered within him. He was alive.


    And in the abyss, that was all that mattered.

 Chapter 13 - Company

    Unconscious from the sudden relief of sleep, he disconnected from reality for a few moments, completely defenseless and relieved to simply be alive after everything. But, whether by luck or misfortune, those who rest easy without worries always end up in the clutches of something.


    He now found himself sitting in the small sandstone ravine where he had thrown himself, his vision blurry from waking up from a much-deserved slumber.


    The air carried the strange scent of something sweet, though devoid of sugar, like a natural perfume. For some reason, his heart pounded harder, and his brain roused him faster.


    In front of him, he noticed strands of leather that seemed to have come from the poorly cut patches adorning his cloak. Surprised by the sight, he tried to move his arms, only to discover that his right arm was encased in a rudimentary yet professional splint, made of bones and a faintly reddish white fabric, dirtied by the desert. Meanwhile, his left arm, which had been attacked by acid, appeared to be wrapped in a slimy, transparent material, then covered by the same fabric.


    His expression turned puzzled and slightly groggy from the morning drowsiness. He assumed he was alone; after all, it was exceedingly rare to encounter another spawn of the Abyss on the same floor, especially in the deeper levels.


    Why would I tear part of my cloak? My recent memories after the attack are¡­ fuzzy. And what is this slimy stuff on my arm?


    ¡ª It''s just petroleum jelly mixed with mineral salts on your arm. You''ll live.


    A voice echoed through the walls of the ravine.


    Near the opening between the rocks, words emerged from dry yet well-maintained lips. Her voice formed a subtle solo chorus with each word, delivering an intense, concise, yet careful vocal cadence.


    A lone spawn of the Abyss? Is she a scout from a battalion or something? Which floor are we on?


    This was far from good news. As far as Buck knew, he was the only spawn of the Abyss capable of overcoming the brainwashing injections somehow. If she discovered his peculiarities, it was possible her battalion would take him in for questioning¡ªor worse.


    While he pondered his options, it was clear as day that this deer was utterly stunned, staring into the bright light of danger ahead. His mouth was slightly open, revealing perfect teeth as he sweated profusely.


    Pulling himself together, he placed his splinted right hand on his face, trying discreetly to hide his features, hoping she might interpret his slow responses as mere trauma from the injuries.


    What am I doing? I''m a perfect actor! My behavior was so smooth that even veteran merchants couldn''t beat me in a game of cards. So why am I revealing so much of my panic?


    He blamed the past events for his lapse. If not, it would deeply wound his ego¡ªthe one thing he prided himself on.


    ¡ª Of course¡­ Thank you. Sorry for the sudden question, but you wouldn''t happen to be a spawn of the Abyss, would you?This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The young woman glanced back, now facing Buck, who was seated tensely on the ground. She took another quick look outside before leaping further down, revealing herself fully to the boy''s eyes.


    Her hair, rebellious like a feline''s mane, was impeccably cut with precise details and bore a silvery-gray tone deepened by hints of black pearl. Her body, lightly toned and athletic, resembled that of a casual athlete¡ªenough that even a mere photograph of her shadow could be framed as high art. She wore a Roman-style white tunic called a ci¨¤mide, typical of ancient Adora. While stunning, it bore the marks of time: faint, opaque stains from the desert''s red dust and subtle tears at the hem, revealing pale skin just above her knees.


    But it was her face where true magic resided. Framed by fair skin, her unique features included lips intensely pigmented, shaped with perfect curves like waves stirring emotions on the surface. Yet her eyes were lethal. A sky-blue so pure and vivid that even the most coveted diamonds would pale in comparison to the divine gaze they held. The dark shadows around her eyes enhanced her delicate freckles, and every movement of her gaze conveyed an indescribable depth¡ªimpossible to capture in words or mimicry. Not even the greatest dramatist could translate the emotional impact emanating from her figure to those daring to look.


    Buck''s heart pounded like prey about to be devoured, and his dry throat struggled to swallow invisible tension, attempting to regain composure while reading his future. His words could falter at even the faintest shift in her stance.


    She approached, close enough to be fully visible, and though she looked down at him, her cold eyes remained fixed on the upper part of his face.


    ¡ª This is a dangerous place for a lone bourgeois.


    Me? A bourgeois? This woman must be loaded in madness!


    He wanted to correct her¡ªsuch an insult was the harshest you could hurl at a street boy and lifelong worker in the grueling radical industries since childhood.


    All the emotions that had surfaced before now retreated, replaced by the sharp claws of his anger.


    But he couldn''t reveal his true feelings. His simple, peaceful life in a small home in a Bascari village would be completely destroyed. So, he controlled himself, clenching his teeth ever so slightly.


    Now that his head had cleared, he noticed several suspicious details about her. Small injuries and sturdy, black leather boots with metal-plated toes stood out starkly against her light, revealing white tunic¡ªa garment far too expensive and impractical for her rugged footwear. Buck knew this well, being a skilled young weaver of dresses and an avid user of various types. The outfit simply didn''t match. The tunic offered little protection, unlike her durable boots.


    ¡ª I ended up here by accident after being attacked. I didn''t intend to be in a desert alone. But what about you? Isn''t it dangerous for you to be in a place like this?


    Her subtle shifts in expression were almost imperceptible. She adjusted her hair and maintained her perfect posture, exuding a natural elegance that complemented her style and aura, as if her body was simply meant to carry itself that way.


    ¡ª Yes, it''s very dangerous for me too. If I were foolish enough to leave this small ravine alone, I''m sure I''d die. The desert is meant to be traversed in groups. You need a scout to test the sand as you walk, someone with sharp vision to spot airborne monsters and water sources, and specialized fighters for any creatures you might pass near their nests.


    Her gaze seemed to grow somber, though her features hadn''t shifted even slightly.


    ¡ª That''s why I saved you. I won''t be petty and keep this to myself¡ªI plan to use you to get out of here. I won''t die today. Just as you''ll use me to escape the desert somehow. After all, I''m your only chance.


    Shocked by her honesty, Buck''s mouth fell open again without him realizing it, his eyes wide.


    ¡ª You say all this like it''s nothing. Don''t you understand how easily you could be deceived? You''re an Abyss Spawn; you should be more paranoid about these things. And besides, what''s to stop you from throwing me to the creatures when things get tough?


    ¡ª If things get tough, I''ll throw you to the wolves, no doubt, just as you would with me. I''m from Sulfuria; I know all about slippery people¡ªthey''re everywhere. But I''d much rather have an ally to the end because that way, I''m sure my survival chances are higher. I just prefer to get this off my chest. It''s better to clear your mind if you want to think straight in moments like this.


    Buck stood, using the wall behind him and the strength of his legs to rise, avoiding contact with anything using his arms¡ªone of which throbbed with pain while the other was still healing from a severe chemical burn.


    The girl''s thoughts were precise but utterly reckless. Who in their right mind would say such blatant things at the start of a conversation about needing trust and an ally to fight monstrosities? All his strategies for playing roles had crumbled. Finally, there was an answer to what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. The object would have to surrender its nature for both to continue existing.


    And in this case, Buck was the immovable object¡ªto his misfortune.


    He couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of the girl¡¯s words settle deeper. The stark reality of survival in a world like theirs wasn¡¯t just about trust¡ªit was about strategy, manipulation, and knowing when to be a monster yourself. He hadn¡¯t thought he¡¯d meet someone so... pragmatic. It made him uneasy. Every word she spoke chipped away at the shell he had built around himself in all of these years living, knowing to not trust even an insect.


    Is this what it takes to survive in this place?

 Chapter 14 - Together Damned

    Buck stared in disbelief at the face that once held beauty, now irritating and unreadable in his eyes.


    He thought there must be something hidden between the lines, perhaps she was weaving intense truths with pretentious lies, trying to normalize her words over time. He was well-acquainted with this tactic, a favorite among the high-ranking managers he had dealt with.


    Buck considered crossing his arms but decided against it. Instead, he blew a strand of messy hair away from his face and locked eyes with the girl.


    ¡ª Before you fill this calm and peaceful ravine with your madness and impossible goals, could you at least tell me your name and which battalion you belong to?


    A genuine smile slipped from her lips, cracking the dryness and drawing a small cut that bled with the sudden movement.


    ¡ª I''m sorry, you just said something funny. My name is Akritene. But no, I don''t belong to any battalion. Here in Sufuria, it''s easy to escape the law thanks to the lack of structure.


    Buck''s confusion deepened, as if her words were a joke without a punchline.


    But something else caught his attention, more important than her tasteless humor. A fact that might be the solution to all his potential problems: he wasn¡¯t in a deep, unknown layer of the Abyss. He was in Sufuria¡ªa foreign kingdom but one where humans lived. That alone made it far better and likely easier to survive than any level of the Abyssal Hell.


    Noticing Buck''s sudden silence, Akritene furrowed her brows and looked directly at him.


    ¡ª Now that you understand we can''t get out of here unless we work together, I''d like to propose a temporary alliance.


    This was dangerous. It was hard to figure out what she was hiding, and even harder to suppress his own feelings. A strange, excruciating sensation lingered. But he had no choice.


    Given what he had witnessed earlier, surviving alone in a place like this was impossible. And Buck valued staying intact¡ªboth physically and mentally.


    An alliance would benefit them both and remain unbroken for some time. Even if she was concealing something important, Akritene had not only helped him recover but had spared his life while he was incapacitated. All he needed to do was prove himself more valuable than mere monster bait.


    Besides, she had basic knowledge of herbal remedies and first aid. That could be critical, especially in such a hot climate where infections were common and often led to amputations among the poor.


    ¡ª I accept. On one condition.


    Her eyes lit with curiosity as she studied Buck, intrigued by what he might say.


    ¡ª I need to know every single detail of your plan. When I say everything, I mean down to why you¡¯d choose a quartz cup over a clay one. Any question I ask about our survival must be answered immediately. Understood?


    ¡ª Ha¡­ you''re too prepared, even for a merchant. But I agree¡ªI was planning to explain the plan anyway. But I also have a condition.


    Buck looked at her in confusion, his upper lip twitching slightly. What could she possibly want from a supposed merchant, stripped bare and penniless?


    ¡ª It¡¯s not exactly a condition¡ªmore of a tip. If you want us to survive the desert, do as I say during critical moments, and you can question me about it later if you must.


    He swallowed hard, his mouth as dry as the desert around them. The wilderness was teeming with dangers Buck couldn¡¯t comprehend. Knowing what a Cackling Nightwing looked like was already a stretch. The only thing holding back the tide of the unknown from sinking its teeth into his flesh was this unreadable girl his age. There was nothing he could do to change that, except give his all.


    Apparently, Akritene wasn¡¯t affiliated with any military group, and she even seemed to view them with mild disdain¡ªa strange stance indeed.


    In his mind, Buck believed he had been the sole survivor of the vaccine. As a child of the Abyss, she should have been under the military organization''s control¡ªunless the vaccine wasn¡¯t administered universally but selectively, leaving some Abyss Children completely free from the poison. After all, if they controlled every Abyss Child, they wouldn¡¯t allow one to simply escape and vanish.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    What a headache¡­ I miss the days when the only things I had to think about were the stories I read and whether I¡¯d hunt for strange fungi to eat or manage to buy bugs with my work money.


    ¡ª I¡¯ll do what I can. To make communication easier, call me Buck from now on.


    Akritene glanced at the detailed, opaque black horns on his skull with a hint of doubt.


    ¡ª Understood, Buck. Some people call me Aki. Feel free to use it.


    ¡ª Aki¡­ like the Iron Guardian of the First Nest? People must really hate you.


    ¡ª Welcome to the world of people like me. I didn¡¯t have the privilege of protective parents, as you probably did.


    For the first time in his life, Buck saw someone who might have been as miserable¡ªif not more¡ªthan he was. His already confused emotions grew even more tangled. He didn¡¯t know what to do.


    ¡ª My condolences for your shitty life¡­ I guess?


    Buck wasn¡¯t used to being treated like a person. No one had ever looked at his face without a hint of disgust, shortened conversations to the bare minimum, or avoided him outright. Because of this, his unfiltered thoughts spilled out before he could even judge them.


    ¡ª It happens. Fate¡¯s a bitch.


    He nodded. After all, he harbored the same kind of bitterness for the events of his recent life.


    ¡ª So, you¡¯ve got a plan to get away from those damned ants, right?


    She gazed toward the ravine¡¯s exit with an unreadable expression.


    ¡ª Yes. I know a bit about them, I¡¯ve been observing their behavior for a few hours now.


    Akritene pulled out a kind of syringe with a thin needle and a strip of leather she had taken from Buck while he was unconscious.


    Damn it, she looted my prized possession while I was out! Leather is expensive.


    She abruptly stopped what she was doing, which involved a process similar to tattooing. This technique was often used to create book pages from specific, lightweight leather.


    ¡ª We¡¯re going to do a lot of running, so I¡¯d like to make some boots using this leather. Four of the strips tied to your waist should suffice.


    She¡¯s not satisfied with just one strip¡ªshe wants to leave me practically naked!


    ¡ª I need at least one to keep my cloak in place.


    She paused for a moment, reconsidering something Buck couldn¡¯t comprehend. Then, she grabbed a shard of stone from the ground and cut a piece of her own rudimentary dress, made of thin white fabric.


    ¡ª Here, use this as a belt. That way, we can use the leather, and you stay dressed.


    With his eyes hidden beneath his hood, Buck stared at Akritene for a few seconds, his eyebrows raised. But by some greater force, he quickly snapped out of it¡ªfor his own good.


    Reluctantly, he removed all his poorly cut leather rags, replacing them with the white fabric around his waist. He discreetly tucked his relic inside his hood, securing it at the back of his neck. The leather wouldn¡¯t move out of place since his horns had impaled it, giving it extra stability and maintaining his anonymity.


    Meanwhile, Akritene seemed focused on tying one of the leather strips around her foot, using a raised stone for support. Her efficiency was impressive¡ªeach loop of leather touched only the essential parts of her foot, protecting the sole while tying the ends securely at the top of her Achilles tendon. She repeated the process with her other foot in the same precise, deliberate manner.


    Buck wanted to ask Akritene why she was alone and barefoot in the middle of the desert¡ªhis curiosity was eating away at him. But deep down, he already knew the answer. He didn¡¯t want to touch such a sensitive subject, especially when they barely knew each other.


    Besides, what did it matter to him? They were strangers. Her problems wouldn¡¯t change Buck¡¯s life. His survival was the key, the only thing that mattered to unlocking his future. Playing the good Samaritan now was out of the question. No one had ever helped him in his life¡ªso why should he help someone else?


    To him, it felt unfair. He had never received care, never had anyone worry about his well-being. No one probably even cared that his body back in Farad-ay was most likely lifeless, pulse gone, discarded like useless trash into a river of lava. Why should he extend his hand when no one had done the same for him?


    Then why does my heart feel so tight, my chest so heavy, and my skin prickled with chills? Why are my hands and feet so cold?


    He bit his lip in frustration. His survival had always come first¡ªthat was the only way to make it. The only way to avoid being used. He¡¯d learned that through countless mistakes in his life.


    So why do I want to hold her, to listen to her, to tell her it¡¯s going to be okay? Why do I feel sorry for what I imagine she¡¯s been through? Why do I fantasize about how much better her life could¡¯ve been if she¡¯d just had one good person in it?


    For the first time in a long while, Buck felt sadness¡ªnot for his own anguished and meaningless life, but for someone else. Another child of the Abyss.


    ¡ª So, what happened for you to end up alone and barefoot in the desert?


    She paused, her hands halting as she made the final adjustments to her improvised leather sandals. She stared in the same direction for too long, as if frozen in place.


    ¡°My group was protecting historians and researchers exploring relics and ruins here,¡± she began, her voice low and measured. ¡°Twice, while we were stationed, creatures that don¡¯t normally come this close appeared¡ªalongside Cackling Nightwings. I had to strip off my gear because the metal had stopped cooling me and was heating me instead. We stayed here far longer than we were prepared for.¡±


    Her gaze dropped slightly, her lips tightening into a faint, inverted smile.


    ¡ª I won¡¯t go into details, but that¡¯s what you need to know. I assume that¡¯s the information you wanted.


    Buck didn¡¯t want to know that¡ªnot really. Deep down, he wanted her to vent, to curse her circumstances, to spill her heart out to a listener who might actually care. But he didn¡¯t say that. Not only was he unaware of these feelings, but his petty, selfish pride refused to show he might care.


    What unsettled him most was how similar their situations were. Akritene was someone like him. A kindred soul who might understand¡ªand maybe even be understood. That realization shattered the hardened, defensive exterior of stone he had built around his heart.


    Both of them were trapped in delicate, precarious situations, yearning for genuine comfort they had never felt before. The world had always been cruel to them¡ªthat was the nature of the Abyss, a relentless and overwhelming malice.


    ¡°You know,¡± Buck said softly, ¡°to many, Aki was the demon of the first floor who killed thousands of soldiers. But to me, she was just protecting herself and what she cared about¡ªher home, her territory. She never left her nest to attack, not even when larger Abyss creatures descended to invade civilization. No creature from her nest was ever documented. She was always alone. Just the solitary guardian. The queen of the nest. Just Aki.¡±


    It was true. Many claimed she had been an infertile queen, with no soldiers or progeny. But others speculated her offspring were either hidden or fled after their queen was killed.


    Akritene¡¯s expression was a subtle contradiction, like a sky split between heavy clouds and rays of sunlight. Her reddened, weary eyes carried a depth of pain that seemed freshly uncovered, each breath a reminder of what she¡¯d endured. Yet, deep within her gaze, there was a nearly imperceptible warmth, a flicker of light from distant memories.


    Her posture was withdrawn, as if carrying an invisible weight, but a hesitant smile occasionally broke through¡ªbrief and fleeting, like the light of a falling star. She gently touched the surrounding rocks, her fingers brushing them as though they were fragile echoes of a time long gone.


    ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t know that,¡± she murmured, her voice touched with unexpected gratitude. ¡°Thank you, Buck.¡±


    As Buck tied the leather around his own foot, an unspoken sense of calm and fragile comfort settled between them. Though strangers, an inexplicable bond began to form. It was as if, in this desolate ravine, their broken destinies had intertwined like threads of a shared constellation¡ªetched across a star-filled sky in soft, cursive lines.