《The Greatest Heretic [Isekai, Cultivation, Progression]》


 Chapter 1 — Fateful Day

    Morning began with the persistent ringing of the alarm clock, though Astar had no reason to wake up early. All the crucial steps toward his future freedom had nearly been completed: the business that had consumed his time and energy was practically sold. But the habit of controlling everything down to the smallest detail proved far stronger. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed blinds, painting golden streaks on the walls of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed his face, and looked into the mirror.


    In the reflection, he saw himself¡ªa tall, well-groomed young man with an athletic build. His bright blue eyes contrasted with his black hair, which was tied in a careless bun at the back of his head. That hair always attracted attention. In the light, it shimmered with a strange violet hue, leading many to believe he either dyed it or used some unusual products. But the truth was different: that shade had been there since birth, as if it were some mysterious genetic anomaly. This peculiarity lent him an air of mystery.


    He was just past twenty, yet something distant and heavy was already visible in his gaze. Years of relentless work, forced upon him since childhood, had left their mark in his eyes, his habits, and a fatigue that never faded, even after rest.


    It seemed that freedom¡ªthe very thing he had longed for¡ªwas finally at his doorstep. Today, the deal that would free him from the role of a full-time business manager would take place. He would remain a shareholder, live off dividends, and finally feel like the master of his own life.


    "Alright, Astar, time to get ready¡­" he muttered to himself, rising from the bed.


    "Funny," he thought as he began making the bed. "I worked so much, I forgot how to rest."


    Astar circled the bed, smoothing out the sheets, his thoughts drifting back to those long hours at the office, the sleepless nights spent strategizing, and the risks he had taken upon himself.


    "Perhaps it couldn¡¯t have been any other way," he mused. "I always loved competition, crushing my rivals. As a result, I earned myself a case of workaholism that snuffed out whatever fire was left in me. Maybe that¡¯s for the best¡­¡±


    All his life, he had believed that money meant freedom. That if he just accumulated enough, happiness would follow. And now, after countless setbacks¡ªbut also moments of great luck¡ªhis goal was almost within reach.


    He cast a quick glance at his phone, where a list of tasks reminded him of yet another string of meetings, despite this being his final day. Even now, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that everything had to remain under control. But what annoyed him the most was something else entirely: the freedom he had fought so hard for still didn¡¯t feel real.


    "Maybe the problem is me¡­ It feels like I¡¯ve spent my whole life doing the wrong thing," the thought flickered through his mind. "No matter¡­ Once I sell the controlling stake, I¡¯ll invest the money in reliable assets. With my other savings and investments, I¡¯ll never have to work again. I¡¯ll finally have time to find my purpose. I was lucky to get rich while still young¡ªI need to hold on to that advantage for the sake of a peaceful future¡­"


    Astar sighed, gathered his thoughts, and headed for the kitchen. This day was supposed to be the start of a new life. Now, he would live for himself. But just as the thought crossed his mind, something strange began to stir in his consciousness¡ªa barely perceptible noise. Before long, the whispering grew into incoherent murmurs, the words foreign, like echoes of a distant choir.


    "Shar-daar, kudis lur¡­"


    Before Astar could make sense of it, a sharp pain pierced his head. It struck like lightning, stabbing through his temples and spreading across his skull. The world around him froze. His body felt numb, his arms hung limply at his sides, and his legs buckled beneath him. It lasted only a moment, but the intensity nearly knocked him off his feet.


    "What the¡­" he rasped, grabbing onto the countertop to keep from collapsing. The voices vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. The pain subsided, leaving only a faint throbbing in his temples. His body obeyed him once more, and after taking a few deep breaths, Astar smirked and reached for the elegant pitcher.


    "Didn¡¯t get enough sleep or what?" he muttered, pouring himself a glass of warm water. "What was the point of buying those overpriced mattresses and pillows if I still feel like crap in the morning? Ha-ha," he chuckled dryly, heading toward the bathroom.


    Astar lived alone and had long since gotten used to being his own conversation partner. The seriousness deeply ingrained in his character didn¡¯t stop him from finding ironic moments in everyday life. And his sharp tongue, even when aimed at himself, was no worse than that of a seasoned cynic.


    "Well, Astar," he said to his reflection in the mirror, washing away the remnants of sleep. "Just one more step, and you¡¯ll officially be a slacker. Congratulations, buddy. Now you¡¯ll have all the time in the world to¡­." He paused for a moment. "Do whatever you want. Take a vacation, get a dog, or¡­ even¡­" He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I¡¯ll finally have time for a real relationship? With all the business dealings, I haven¡¯t even thought about sex¡­"


    "Though, not a huge loss. It¡¯s not like I ever had anything more than one-night stands anyway¡­" he muttered to himself, recalling his last few encounters.


    Astar smirked, turning toward the shower. This little morning monologue had become a sort of meditation for him. Living alone had always seemed convenient¡ªsilence, no obligations to anyone. But sometimes, he caught himself speaking aloud not just for the sake of amusement, but simply to break the eternal solitude. In those moments, even his own voice sounded unfamiliar.


    "Alright, we only live once," he said, turning on the shower. "Tonight, I need to celebrate properly. I didn¡¯t start grinding back in the orphanage for nothing. Speaking of which, I really should finally reply to James..."


    He exhaled thoughtfully as he stepped under the warm stream of water. Despite his cynical outlook, there was always a spark inside him¡ªan unquenchable feeling that something interesting could be waiting just around the corner. And though he kept telling himself that he wanted peace, deep inside, the old Astar still lurked¡ªthe one who thrived on competition, who loved the fight. That was the Astar who once pushed forward with everything he had, desperate to escape poverty and the harsh conditions of the orphanage.


    Astar finished his morning routine quickly. After showering, he applied his skincare, dried his hair, and neatly tied it into a bun at the back of his head.


    "A dog actually wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea..." he mused aloud, stepping out of the bathroom and heading to his wardrobe. "I¡¯d have to walk it, and who knows, maybe I¡¯d meet some gorgeous woman? I used to be good with women... Back when I actually had free time¡­" He laughed, buttoning his shirt and tightening his tie.


    Looking at himself in the massive mirror, he let out an odd chuckle before shaking his head.


    "No, the tie is definitely too much today. No need to give the impression that I¡¯m still in the game, ha-ha."


    Removing the accessory, he spun it between his fingers like a toy before casually tossing it aside¡ªsomething uncharacteristic for him. Today was supposed to be special. He could feel it, even through the faint noise in his head, which had begun to bother him slightly but still lingered only at the edges of his consciousness.


    "Damn, am I really about to start doing nothing? Thank you, Universe!" Astar grinned, as if convincing himself that this was exactly what he had always wanted.


    He quickly threw on a light jacket and shut the door behind him. His footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor as he made his way to the elevator. His fingers pressed the underground parking button out of habit, and he leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed.


    "You know, Astar, life has its jokes, but for us... we actually got a good shot," he said, looking at his reflection in the mirrored panel of the elevator. "So many guys from the orphanage just wanted to graduate high school, let alone own a nice apartment and a car. But you¡ªha, you¡­" He smirked, pausing in thought. "Luck played a big role, but I won¡¯t downplay my own achievements either."


    As he reflected, a predatory smile crept onto his face. Memories surfaced¡ªmoments when he outmaneuvered competitors, snatched valuable clients from their grasp, or lured away their most promising employees.


    The elevator glided downward with a smooth jolt, and Astar tilted his head back, sinking into recollection. He vividly remembered his first ¡°investment¡±¡ªspending the last of his savings, painstakingly earned through side jobs at the orphanage, on Bitcoin. Back then, it felt like nothing more than a gamble, but fate had smiled on him, granting him an enormous starting capital. Astar had always considered it the universe¡¯s compensation for the lousy parents who had abandoned him as an infant. No matter how he tried to think well of them, resentment and even anger always surfaced.


    Sometimes, he wondered who they were¡ªbut he always forced himself to stop. They had left him, and that meant they didn¡¯t matter.


    "I should probably give something back to the universe," he continued, stepping out of the elevator and heading toward his car. "Maybe support an orphan fund? Or... open a dog shelter? Not like I need this much money anyway¡ªI don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m going to do with myself..."


    His steps grew more confident as his gaze landed on his brand-new car. The glossy surface reflected the dim underground lights, as if beckoning him to take the wheel and revel in that feeling¡ªthe moment when all the effort, all the struggle, finally paid off. The sleek black body, the aerodynamic curves, the red brake calipers¡ªevery inch of the vehicle was a testament to his success.


    "Damn, you are a beauty," Astar smirked, addressing the car. "Not sure who¡¯s more impressive¡ªyou or me. Though, let¡¯s be real... it¡¯s me. You¡¯ve never had to hustle since childhood."


    Opening the door, he took a deep breath of the new leather scent, which seemed to whisper, ¡°You did everything right¡±. Settling in, he ran his hand along the steering wheel, feeling the smoothness of the material beneath his fingertips. He started the engine, and the low, powerful hum echoed through the parking lot.


    "Perfect sound," he said, fastening his seatbelt. "Alright, let¡¯s go. Today, your owner officially becomes a free man. Or at least pretends to, ha-ha."


    Speed, power, control¡ªthe car perfectly embodied everything he had pursued in life. Astar pulled out of the parking lot, merging into the city¡¯s flow, but the thoughts of just how lucky he had been still lingered in his mind.


    "I¡¯m grateful to you, fate," he murmured. "I don¡¯t know how many more chances you¡¯ll throw my way, but I¡¯ll take every single one. Just one request¡ªlet the next one be about my purpose, ha-ha."


    Astar smoothly turned onto the wide avenue of the metropolis, where the glass walls of skyscrapers caught the morning sun, scattering its light into thousands of dazzling reflections. His car blended seamlessly into the stream of high-end vehicles, matching them in elegance and presence. He glanced at the navigation screen, setting the route to one of the city¡¯s most prestigious buildings¡ªa towering business skyscraper, packed with corporate offices, including his own.


    "One last visit to the old walls," he muttered, pressing lightly on the gas. "I¡¯ll grab the files, sign the papers, and finally escape this rat race."


    Astar loved competition, but the corporate world had begun to consume him. The harder and more diligently he worked, the clearer it became¡ªthis wasn¡¯t what he was meant to do. It felt as if he were living a life that wasn¡¯t truly his.


    The traffic light turned green, and Astar confidently continued forward, taking in the streets passing by. The route was familiar, almost routine, but this time, he noticed every detail¡ªthe colorful caf¨¦ signs, the flashing billboards, the bright storefronts. In a way, all of it had become a part of his success. His company, like many others, had crafted the marketing strategies that breathed life into this city.


    "Marketing," he murmured with a thoughtful smile, "the art of convincing people to buy what they don¡¯t need¡­ Or sometimes, what they need more than they even realize."


    He let out a short chuckle, recalling the dozens of projects that had transformed his startup into a full-fledged company. In this world, being smart wasn¡¯t enough¡ªyou had to be a predator. He remembered the moments when he had to ruthlessly cut staff, shut down underperforming departments, or turn away promising but risky clients. It had hardened him, dulling his thirst for exploration and adventure.


    "No wonder I called you ''Labyrinth,''" he said, as if addressing his creation. "Business really is a labyrinth. One wrong move, and you¡¯re stuck¡ªor worse¡­ you lose everything."


    For a moment, Astar focused on the road, enjoying the smooth handling of his car. Deep down, he knew it wasn¡¯t just hard work and cold calculation that had brought him success. Luck had been his constant companion, ever since that very first investment in cryptocurrency. That was what had given him an unexpectedly large starting capital, allowing him to experiment with a few projects¡ªuntil the third one finally took off and started making serious money.


    "You think you¡¯re special, a genius? No, Astar, you just got lucky," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Then again¡­ luck without action and effort is worthless. I gave everything to make this work."


    Astar was well aware that he wasn¡¯t some brilliant marketer or a top-tier professional. But he had a talent for hiring the right people¡ªand, most importantly, for taking risks and making tough decisions.


    The sight of the skyscraper ahead made him sigh. Just a little longer, and he would be inside the headquarters¡ªthe building where every door held memories of challenges, late-night meetings, and strategic victories. Faces of employees who had started the journey with him flashed through his mind. Some had left, others had stayed. Did they feel the same loss of passion as he did? Or did they regret what they had to sacrifice for success?


    "I¡¯m probably no better myself," he muttered, turning on his blinker and pulling into the skyscraper¡¯s parking lot. "Cold, calculating¡­ but at least almost free."


    He parked in his usual spot and turned off the engine. The hum of the car faded, but the echoes of his thoughts still lingered in his head. Today might just be the most important day of his life.


    Astar had just reached for the door handle when his phone screen lit up with an incoming call. For a moment, he frowned, but when he saw the familiar name, he couldn¡¯t help but smirk.


    "James," he murmured, answering the call. "Is this important? I¡¯m a little busy."


    "Astaaar-os!" came a lively voice on the other end, drawing out his name in a teasing tone. "What, you¡¯re too important to pick up calls from your only friend now? Or have you gotten so big that you¡¯ve forgotten your roots? You¡¯ve been ignoring me for a whole month!"


    Astar rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.


    "I told you not to call me that," he said, irritation creeping into his voice, though he kept it controlled.


    "But why?" James continued in a mock-innocent tone. "That is your full name, after all. Remember? ''Astaros''¡ªthat¡¯s what was written on the note when they found you and dumped you at that shitty orphanage. You should be proud, man! It¡¯s such a unique name!"


    "Unique?" Astar¡¯s grip on the phone tightened slightly. "It sounds ridiculous, James. I¡¯ve been trying to forget it, and you keep bringing it up."


    "Oh, come on," James was clearly enjoying this. "Not my fault you¡¯re so touchy. And honestly, if you think about it, Astaros sounds badass! I¡¯m pretty sure I heard something similar in a video game once."


    "Exactly," Astar muttered, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. His voice dropped slightly, laced with mild irritation. "Apparently, my damn parents not only threw me away like trash but also decided to mock me on the way out."


    "Sorry, man," James¡¯s tone softened, though there was still a hint of playful irony. "Didn¡¯t mean to hit a nerve. I know this has always pissed you off. I just wanted to remind you¡ªyou built yourself from the ground up. Your worthless parents didn¡¯t manage to ruin your life, not even with their genes."


    Astar stopped in front of the elevator, staring at the metal doors before him. He wanted to fire back with something sharp, but then he laughed.


    "You''ve been watching philosophy videos again, haven''t you?" he said after a pause. "That really doesn¡¯t suit you. Cut it out."


    "I know, I know. Too pretentious for our esteemed marketing guru," James interrupted cheerfully. "Anyway, how are you feeling? Ready to finally part with your creation? I assume you¡¯ve been ignoring my calls because you¡¯ve been deep in preparation for this big day?"


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "I''m ready," Astar replied curtly, looking at his reflection in the polished elevator surface. "But it''s harder than I thought..."


    "Of course it¡¯s harder," James¡¯ voice carried an air of certainty. "You built this company like a fortress. You were both the architect and the lead stonemason. But, Astar, if you don¡¯t let it go, you¡¯ll just end up sitting inside that fortress until the walls start crumbling on their own. All these years, you¡¯ve only had one-night stands, and the only friend you¡¯ve got is me. It¡¯s time to start living, not just working."


    Astar smirked, pressing the elevator button.


    "Should I be thanking you or the ancient philosophers whose wisdom you binge on the internet? Maybe you should start a business giving out free advice?"


    "Maybe I will¡ªif you invest in my startup, ha-ha," James shot back. "Alright, good luck in there. And remember, tonight you owe me a drink! I won¡¯t let you celebrate alone!"


    "I know, James. Thanks," Astar said quietly, just before the call ended.


    The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, bracing himself for his last visit to the office that had once been his entire world.


    As the doors closed behind him, he was left alone in the quiet space, a solitude he had always found oddly pleasant in these brief moments between floors. The gentle hum of the elevator filled the cabin, and his gaze lingered on his reflection in the polished metal panels.


    "So, the big day has come," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. "Sign everything, hand it over¡­ and start living for myself. Sounds great, but it still feels heavy."


    The elevator glided smoothly past another floor¡ªthen suddenly, something happened.


    A sharp pain stabbed through his temples, so sudden and intense that he winced, staggering back and catching himself against the wall.


    "Shit¡­" he exhaled, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The pain vanished as abruptly as it had come, but something else followed¡ªa faint, barely perceptible sound, almost like words.


    "Shar-daar, kudis lur¡­"


    They seemed to drift from a great distance, as if someone were speaking inside his head. The language was foreign, something Astar had never heard before, but it was unmistakably structured, undeniably real.


    "What the¡­" he started, but fell silent, shaken by the sensation.


    The voices faded, leaving behind only the dull hum of the elevator and the heavy pounding of his own heartbeat.


    Astar straightened, pulling his hand away from the wall, and tried to laugh it off¡ªto break the strange tension curling around him.


    "Great," he said to himself, forcing a casual tone. "That would be the joke of the year. A businessman at the peak of his career having his grand debut into schizophrenia. Perfect stand-up material, don¡¯t you think?"


    He let out a short laugh, but even he could hear the hollowness in it. Shaking his head, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, as if trying to wipe away the unsettling memory.


    "No, no, you¡¯re just overworked, Astar," he muttered, staring at his reflection. "No schizophrenia. Just accumulated stress¡­ and maybe not the best sleep schedule."


    "This is a sign that I need to wrap everything up as soon as possible¡­" he thought.


    The elevator slowed, and the doors slid open, revealing a long corridor leading to his office. He hesitated for a few seconds before stepping out. The voices hadn¡¯t returned, but a faint tension still lingered in his mind, like the aftertaste of something unsettling.


    Astar strode into the corridor, the cool air from the ventilation system brushing against his skin. Sunlight streamed through the massive glass panels, filling the space with a soft glow. The modern, stylish office reflected every facet of his success.


    Beyond the glass partitions, employees sat at their monitors¡ªsome focused on their tasks, others engaged in animated discussions, gesturing emphatically. As soon as they noticed him, conversations quieted, replaced by polite smiles. Some stood to give him a respectful nod, while others waved in greeting.


    "Good morning, Mr. Arden!" a young woman in a sharp business suit said as she passed by with a bright smile.


    "Morning," he replied with a composed nod, curving his lips into a light, approachable smile.


    He had taken this surname after leaving the orphanage¡ªmore accurately, it had been assigned to him by the state. Astar had always preferred to be addressed by his first name, but in the corporate setting, he didn¡¯t mind the formality.


    He had barely taken a few more steps when a middle-aged man in an expensive suit emerged from around the corner. He stopped, bowed slightly, and said with deliberate politeness:


    ¡°We will miss you, Mr. Arden. You were the best leader I¡¯ve ever worked with.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Klein. I will miss you too,¡± Astar replied in a soft, friendly tone¡ªone that could fool just about anyone.


    But in his mind, the words sounded different.


    "Miss me? Do you even believe that yourself? We¡¯re all here for the money¡­ And if you dig deep enough, we¡¯re all chasing the same thing¡ªfreedom. Money is just the tool. This politeness¡­ It¡¯s just a game, and everyone in this building knows the rules. And we both know I wasn¡¯t the best leader. I was good for the company, but not always good for the people."


    He continued down the corridor, pausing occasionally to return another warm farewell or acknowledge a compliment.


    ¡°You were an inspiration to all of us, Mr. Arden,¡± one of the employees said, stopping him mid-step.


    ¡°Glad to hear that having such a young boss didn¡¯t bother you,¡± he replied, adding a touch of self-deprecating humor. Then, with a note of praise, he added, ¡°I¡¯m sure you have a bright future ahead of you!¡±


    "A bright future? Only if you can handle sleepless nights and constantly choose between your career and your life. Otherwise, you¡¯ll burn out like most¡­ Harsh competition demands the right kind of character."


    His smile remained perfectly in place, a mask he had worn for years. It didn¡¯t take much effort¡ªthese people were his team, even if only temporarily. But the sheer artificiality of the moment made him feel almost physically sick.


    It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t like them. On the contrary, many of them were genuinely pleasant. But Astar was exhausted¡ªnot just physically, but mentally, drained by the very nature of it all. The fire that had once driven him to achieve was gone. So was his passion for marketing.


    After selling the company, he didn¡¯t plan to indulge in luxury or excess. He simply wanted a quiet, stable, and secure life. But above all¡ªa free one. He already had a spacious apartment, a good car. His investments in cryptocurrency and stocks meant he wouldn¡¯t have to work ever again, even after taxes. All that remained was to find himself¡ªa luxury that had never been available to him since birth.


    "We¡¯re all here for the money. They flatter me because they know I¡¯m leaving behind a successful brand. They¡¯re hoping the new owner will be as competent as I was¡ªor better. This is just business etiquette, hypocrisy in its most refined form. It¡¯s a shame we all have to smile and play along."


    "I wonder¡­ is this a flaw in people, or in the system itself? Everyone dislikes this way of doing things, yet ironically, it works. Even this fake corporate culture somehow boosts a company¡¯s revenue¡­" he mused, recalling the countless consultants he had once hired to craft a unique workplace culture.


    Reaching his office door, Astar hesitated for a moment. He glanced back, taking in the bright corridor one last time¡ªthe glass walls, the smiling faces. Then, with his usual polished smile, he placed his hand firmly on the door handle.


    With a quiet click, he stepped inside, and it was as if a switch flipped. Instantly, he shifted into work mode, focusing entirely on the task at hand.


    The day flew by so fast that Astar barely noticed the clock hands jumping from morning to noon, then creeping toward evening. He had only just poured himself a cup of coffee when the partners arrived¡ªthe very people with whom he would finalize the deal.


    The conversation was brief and businesslike. He had been through meetings like this dozens, if not hundreds, of times in his career. Everything followed the usual script: greetings, a quick review of key terms, then the customary exchange of pens for the signing. The papers lay spread out before him, their crisp pages rustling in a way that felt almost meditative.


    The final stroke of his pen, the last signature¡ªand it was done.


    He was no longer the owner.


    Astar leaned back in his chair, watching as the partners smiled and nodded, each eager to express their gratitude.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving behind a true legacy, Mr. Arden. A small startup growing into something of this scale¡ªit¡¯s all thanks to your leadership.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do everything we can to continue your vision and strengthen the brand even further,¡± another added.


    Astar returned their words with a restrained smile and the usual polite phrases: "I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do great." But inside, there was only emptiness¡ªan odd, unplaceable void.


    When all the formalities were finally over, the partners left, and for the first time, he was alone.


    Scanning the office, Astar stood up and slowly began packing his things. Into his bag went a few framed photographs, a couple of personal notebooks, and a handful of souvenirs. He didn¡¯t need much¡ªmost of the memories were already in his head.


    Finally, he closed his briefcase, picked it up, and stepped toward the door. The moment he exited his office, the entire floor erupted in loud applause. Employees, gathered in two rows, smiled, clapped, and called out:


    "Thank you, Mr. Arden! We¡¯re going to miss you!"


    "Good luck! Can¡¯t wait to see what projects you take on next!"


    "You¡¯ll always be an inspiration to us!"


    He smiled, responding to each of them, offering words of gratitude, nodding in acknowledgment of their excited voices.


    But inside, it all felt foreign.


    "Applause, cheers¡­ How much of it is genuine? Most of them are probably just relieved to have a new boss. Some might truly be grateful. I don¡¯t have the energy to analyze it anymore¡­ At least I¡¯m no longer part of this show¡­"


    He didn¡¯t finish the thought. Instead, he simply took a deep breath and kept walking toward the exit, accompanied by the fading noise of well-wishes and appreciation.


    The moment he stepped outside, the office buzz was replaced by the hum of the city. Streetlights had begun to flicker on, and the soft twilight wrapped around the metropolis.


    Astar paused for a moment, glancing back at the building where he had spent the last few years of his life. Despite the faint sadness weighing on his chest, he felt an odd sense of calm.


    "So, that¡¯s it," he murmured to himself, then smiled. "Time to start living¡ªbecause I¡¯m finally free."


    He slid into his car and started the engine, listening to the familiar hum that always soothed him. Tossing his briefcase onto the passenger seat, he checked the time on his phone and immediately opened his messages.


    "James, I got held up a little. You still at the pub?" he muttered, recording a voice message.


    The reply came almost instantly.


    "Of course. Where else would I be? Waiting for you¡ªour freshly minted free man!"


    Astar smirked, set his phone into the holder, and pulled onto the road.


    The pub in question was called Wunderbar, and it was far from the most prestigious place in the city. Tucked away on the outskirts, with wooden tables bearing the marks of time and dim, warm lighting, it was still perfect in his eyes. It was noisy yet cozy, and, most importantly, no one there played the endless game of trying to appear better than they were.


    His car glided smoothly through the city¡¯s evening streets. The glow of digital billboards danced across the glass facades of towering buildings, while crowds of pedestrians wove along the sidewalks. Astar watched it all with a quiet detachment.


    "So, am I one of those people now¡ªjust enjoying life?" he mused aloud. "Guess I just need to figure out what actually makes me happy¡­"


    The road to the pub was familiar. He had driven it countless times with James when they were younger, discussing everything from startup ideas to which TV series was the best.


    "A place with a free atmosphere," Astar muttered, recalling the time James had laughed and said, "This place smells like freedom, beer, and beautiful women."


    As he pulled up in front of the familiar sign, a subtle warmth flickered in his chest.


    Stepping inside, he was greeted by the familiar scent¡ªwood, malt, and something spicy, likely from the kitchen.


    In the far corner, at their usual table, James was already deep in conversation with two women. Tall, with green eyes and dark hair, James had always had a natural charm that drew women in. The moment he spotted Astar, he raised a hand and grinned widely.


    "So, our great Astar¡ªofficially a free man now?" he called out, sliding a chair back for him.


    "You mean unemployed?" Astar joked as he sat down.


    "No, no, free," James corrected with a smirk. "Here. This is for you." He pushed a pint of beer toward him. "To the next chapter of your life. So, tell me¡ªhow was it?"


    Astar picked up the glass but instead of answering, he turned to the two women with a charming smile, deliberately ignoring his friend.


    "How about you introduce me to these lovely ladies first?" he said smoothly. "Who knows¡ªmaybe tonight, I¡¯ll find love along with my newfound freedom." He laughed playfully and gave them a flirtatious wink.


    Though Astar had never been in a serious relationship¡ªalways too busy¡ªhe had, much like James, been effortlessly good with women. Before work had consumed his life, they had often gone out and met new people together.


    James burst into laughter, clapping Astar on the shoulder.


    "Well, ladies, you heard him! My friend is officially a free man, and he¡¯s got some open positions in his life!" He raised his pint in a mock toast.


    The women laughed, exchanging amused glances before one of them, a brunette with deep brown eyes, leaned in slightly closer.


    "So, you¡¯re the famous Astar we¡¯ve heard all about?"


    "And what exactly did this jester tell you about me?" Astar replied with a smile, nodding toward James.


    "That you''re rich, successful, free, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªa little humble," she smirked.


    "But we¡¯re still not entirely convinced about that last part," the other one, a blonde with adorable freckles, added playfully, making them all laugh again.


    The night took on new colors. The drinks kept flowing, jokes flew freely, and the conversations grew more lively. Astar, as if shedding the weight of his burdens, laughed, joked, and flirted. The relaxed atmosphere of the pub allowed him, even if just for a moment, to forget all his worries.


    From time to time, the headache and those strange voices returned, but Astar ignored them, drowning them out with more drinks.


    By midnight, James had disappeared somewhere with one of the women, leaving Astar alone at the table with the brunette. She was sharp, intriguing, and her infectious laughter awakened something long-forgotten in him.


    "I can walk you home if you¡¯d like," she offered, tilting her head slightly, her deep brown eyes studying him.


    Astar smiled but shook his head.


    "You¡¯re wonderful, but tonight, I need to be alone. It¡¯s been¡­ a strange day. Too much going on, too many emotions, and this damn headache won¡¯t go away. Let¡¯s meet tomorrow? I¡¯m sure we can find something more romantic than this pub for a proper date."


    She furrowed her brows slightly but then nodded with an understanding smile.


    "Alright. But don¡¯t forget to text me, or I¡¯ll assume you ran away."


    "I won¡¯t run, I promise," he said, standing up and walking her to the exit.


    He waited until she got into a taxi before ordering a driver for himself. He was drunk and had no intention of getting behind the wheel. He was finally free¡ªhe wasn¡¯t about to ruin that with some stupid accident.


    Inside, he felt a strange mixture of exhaustion and peace, as if this night marked the beginning of something new.


    The ride home was quick. His apartment, in a prestigious part of the city, greeted him with spacious, minimalist interiors wrapped in silence, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.


    He headed straight for the shower, eager to wash away the weariness of the day and the lingering scent of the pub. The warm water relaxed him, and for a moment, he felt entirely disconnected from everything.


    After drying himself off with a plush white towel, he changed into fresh pajamas¡ªwhite, soft, almost brand-new. He had always liked the feeling of clean clothes after a shower, as if they symbolized a fresh start.


    Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he applied his night cream in slow, familiar motions, smoothing it over his face.


    "Tomorrow, I¡¯ll wake up a new man," he murmured, meeting his own gaze. "No stress, no endless grind¡­ I¡¯ve finally earned what I always wanted¡ªfreedom. Kha-ha¡­" He chuckled, still under the light haze of alcohol.


    But then¡ªsomething changed.


    Like a lightning strike, a searing pain shot through his temples. Astar gasped, gripping the sink to keep himself from falling.


    "Kgh! Damn it¡­" he hissed through clenched teeth, breathing heavily.


    And then it happened again.


    The strange voices¡ªno longer whispers, no longer distant¡ªspoke clearly, loudly, as if someone was right beside him, speaking in a language he didn¡¯t understand.


    "Karahart¡­ Shardur¡­"


    His head spun violently, as if he had been thrown onto a carousel spinning out of control. A wave of weakness crashed over him, and for a moment, he thought he would black out.


    "What the hell?!" he shouted, staring at his reflection in the mirror¡ªonly to freeze in horror.


    His body was glowing.


    It wasn¡¯t just the voices¡ªit was a full-blown hallucination.


    Panic surged through him. His trembling fingers reached for his phone, lying on the shelf next to the sink. He barely managed to unlock the screen.


    "James¡­" he exhaled, scrolling through his contacts. "You always say you know everything¡­ Then tell me¡ªwhat the hell is this?!"


    But before he could press the call button, everything stopped.


    The voices vanished. The pain disappeared, leaving behind only a crushing weight in his skull.


    Astar slumped onto the edge of the bathtub, still gripping his phone, the call to James never initiated.


    "It¡¯s just exhaustion," he tried to convince himself, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a slow, deep breath. "No¡­ I need to call emergency services. I need to¡ª Damn it!"


    But he never got the chance.


    A dense fog clouded his vision, his surroundings blurring into indistinct shapes. His body felt distant, unresponsive. Sounds faded, colors dulled, and the world around him sank into an eerie darkness.


    "No¡­ not this¡­" he whispered, feeling the last of his strength slip away.


    His hand, still clutching the phone, slid off his knee. His gaze remained fixed on the screen¡ªon the name James, still glowing softly in the dim room.


    "The biggest joke of my life," the thought flickered in his mind. "Today, of all days¡ªwhen I¡¯m finally free..."


    He tried to fight it, tried to hold on to reality, but the darkness consumed him, dragging him down like an unstoppable current. A short, almost bitter chuckle escaped his throat.


    "And what was the point¡­? Did I waste my life after all?" he murmured, just before everything was swallowed by utter silence.


    The darkness enveloped his mind, erasing the glow of the bathroom lights, the hum of the air conditioner, and the faint scent of night cream. But in this soundless void, there was no end¡ªjust an abyss stretching infinitely in all directions.


    Then, deep within his consciousness, something flared¡ªa tiny spark, bright yet cold.


    The voices that had once been distant whispers now surged back with unbearable force, as if screaming directly into his ears. He felt a strange, unsettling sensation at the center of his forehead, as though something was shifting, awakening.


    Something terrifying and incomprehensible was about to happen!


    But in the very last moment¡ªby some inexplicable force¡ªhe suddenly understood the meaning of the final phrase he heard¡­


    And it said:


    "The power of the Multiversal Book of Memoria has run out. You can no longer remain safe¡­ Forgive us, my son. We hope you will uncover the truth about¡ª"


    The sentence cut off abruptly.


    And so did Astar¡¯s consciousness.

 Chapter 2 — Where Am I?

    Ghaah! Astar suddenly gasped sharply, as if he had been yanked out of the water after a long submersion. His chest rose in spasms, his lungs burned as if he had just run a marathon. He flung his eyes open in shock, frantically looking around, but saw nothing. Around him was absolute, impenetrable darkness.


    "I¡¯m alive! I¡¯m still alive!"


    That thought flared up first, like a spark of hope. His heart pounded wildly, his mind, stunned, struggled to grasp what had just happened. A wave of relief washed over him¡ªthe sheer joy of realizing he was still breathing, that his body responded, that this was not the end.


    But the relief did not last long. The weight of reality, or whatever this was, crashed down on him again.


    "Where am I?!"


    The darkness was thick, like a black veil covering everything around him. Beneath his feet, he felt a cold, damp, uneven stone floor, and behind him¡ªa wall. Quickly patting himself down, he realized he was still wearing his pajamas.


    The next moment, a stench so foul hit his nostrils that it nearly doubled him over. It was so overpowering it felt like it seeped into his lungs, leaving behind a putrid residue. A revolting mixture of human sweat, pus, urine, and something else¡ªsomething far worse.


    "Shit¡­ Bugh!" he groaned, grimacing and pinching his nose in an attempt to keep from gagging.


    But even with his nostrils clamped shut, the stench was so intense it made his stomach churn. For a moment, he clenched his teeth to suppress the urge to retch, but his body trembled from the effort.


    And then, suddenly, he heard something.


    In the absolute silence that had enveloped him before, faint sounds emerged. A cough. A rustle. A whisper that echoed, as if from somewhere distant.


    Astar strained his ears, trying to catch anything comprehensible, but the murmurs were chaotic, unintelligible.


    "What¡¯s going on? What is this place?!"


    A sudden realization pierced his mind, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.


    "I¡¯ve been kidnapped?!"


    His brain instantly began piecing together theories.


    "Someone must¡¯ve found out about the deal. Thought I was an easy target. Damn it, they must have been watching me¡­ It was too easy for them. Wanted to shake me down for money, but looks like they overdid it with the drugs!"


    He clenched his fists, trying to maintain composure.


    "Alright. Stay calm, Astar. First, figure out where you are. Then wait for a chance to get out. Step one: find out what¡¯s happening here."


    "Hey!" he called out, forcing his voice through the scratchiness in his throat caused by the rancid air. His voice echoed dully off the walls. "Who¡¯s there? What do you want?!"


    No answer. Only the coughing grew louder, and from somewhere to the side came a sharp noise¡ªmetal scraping against stone.


    A minute passed. Then another¡­


    Astar listened intently, waiting for any response, but instead, he was surrounded by that eerie cacophony¡ªcoughing, whispers, sounds of movement, as if someone was dragging something heavy.


    His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Gradually, he began to make out shapes around him: rough stone walls riddled with cracks, a wet, slimy floor. He realized he was sitting with his back against a cold wall. Around him, vague silhouettes flickered¡ªmany silhouettes.


    The only light that managed to pierce this wretched place came from above, through a small opening in the ceiling. The beam was dim, as if moonlight barely reached into the depths of this dungeon. Astar strained his vision, trying to make out the figures whispering and coughing nearby.


    "Hey!" he called out again, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Who are you? Where am I, and what do you want from me?!"


    This time, he got a response. But the words he heard were completely foreign, as if someone was speaking in an unknown language. It was a hoarse, low voice, and it sounded frighteningly close.


    "Karshak¡­ draha¡­ mkhar¡­"


    Astar froze, trying to make sense of the words, but he couldn¡¯t even guess their meaning.


    "What? What did you say?!" he shouted, but no further reply came.


    Only then did he realize that the figures around him looked just as much like prisoners as he did. But something about it was deeply strange. They didn¡¯t seem like wealthy captives¡­ If anything, they looked like vagrants¡ªpeople who hadn¡¯t seen soap or hot water in years.


    "What the hell is going on here?!" Astar cursed inwardly, forcing himself to stay calm.


    Time dragged on painfully, until something strange began to happen. Faint orange flickers appeared on the ceiling¡ªthe first rays of dawn filtering through the opening. The room slowly filled with warm light, revealing everything that had been shrouded in darkness.


    And what Astar saw made his stomach turn.


    More than two dozen figures sat on the stone floor. Their bodies were emaciated, their faces caked in grime, their clothes hanging in tattered shreds. Some clutched their knees, others lay motionless, barely breathing. Their eyes stared into emptiness, void of hope, void of emotion. The place itself resembled a medieval dungeon, with iron bars in place of one of the walls.


    But the most terrifying thing was that among them were creatures that simply could not exist. These were definitely not humans!


    "What the hell?!" he cursed, instinctively scrambling backward in fear, only to accidentally bump into a filthy man whose face was covered in scars. The man shot him a cold, harsh look and shoved him away.


    In one of the corners sat a creature that resembled an anthropomorphic lizard, draped in the same tattered gray garments. Beside it was a hunched figure that looked like¡­ a twisted skeleton. But it wasn¡¯t a "bare" human skeleton¡ªalongside its bones, it had something resembling flesh. Or rather, it was a being whose "muscles" were made of interwoven bone plates and ridges, tightly fused together. Its skull had sharp angles and protrusions, and in its eye sockets, two red embers burned. And the worst part¡ªit was breathing.


    Astar swallowed hard, his breathing turning fast and shallow.


    "What the hell¡­ Have I lost my mind?!" he muttered, trying to make sense of it all.


    But the brutal realism of the situation¡ªand the fact that he was still in his pajamas¡ªtold him otherwise. It really looked like he had been kidnapped. But if that was the case, then what were these terrifying creatures doing here with him?!


    Before Astar could even begin to process it, footsteps echoed in the distance. Slow, deliberate, heavy, with a metallic clank¡ªsomeone was walking across the stone floor in heavy boots. The sound grew closer, growing clearer, and was soon joined by another¡ªa rhythmic jingling of iron keys clashing together.


    "Who is that?" Astar whispered, trying to remain still, but his heart pounded violently in his chest.


    Moments later, someone stepped up to the cage, immediately drawing all attention. It was a tall guard, dressed like a medieval warrior. His black metal armor looked crude, and a sheathed sword hung at his waist. But what shocked Astar most wasn¡¯t the armor.


    The guard wasn¡¯t human either.


    His skin was a dark crimson shade, nearly blending into the surrounding gloom. Two straight horns jutted from his forehead, looking as if they had been ripped from a goat. His irises were blood-red, and though his gaze wasn¡¯t directed at Astar, it sent a shiver of raw terror through him.


    "Karshak t¡¯vara," the guard spoke in the same unfamiliar language, scanning the cell¡¯s occupants with a look of distaste. His voice was deep, resonant, as if it rumbled up from the very earth itself.


    He unlocked the iron-barred door with a long key that hung from his belt. The door groaned open with a harsh screech, and the being stepped inside, scrutinizing the prisoners. Then, with a sharp motion of his hand, he uttered a few more words.


    All who could still move began to rise. Some slowly, with groans and ragged breaths, others faster, their eyes filled with fear. It was clear they knew what would happen if they didn¡¯t comply. Even the monstrous creatures among them stood, not showing the slightest hint of resistance.


    Astar sat motionless, his thoughts racing like a caged animal.


    "Now is not the time to panic. Stay calm. Panic will only make things worse."


    He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand. His body was slightly numb after hours of sitting on the cold stone floor, but he gathered what strength he had left and moved along with the others, trying not to draw attention to himself.


    The guard swept an indifferent gaze over them, muttered something under his breath, and the prisoners obediently began shuffling toward the exit of the cell. Astar stayed at the back of the group, trying to make sense of what was happening. His eyes kept flicking toward the strange creatures among them. They moved like humans, but their appearance, their very nature¡ªeverything about them felt foreign, unnatural.


    "What is this place? Where the hell am I?!" The panic in his mind grew stronger, but he forced himself to suppress it again.


    As the group neared the exit, Astar noticed the guard¡¯s gaze suddenly lock onto him. The creature frowned, its red eyes narrowing, as if it had just realized something¡ªor as if it was displeased.


    "Kur-karsak!" the guard suddenly barked, pointing directly at Astar and spitting out a few more words in its strange language.


    Astar froze, a chill running down his spine.


    "Did he figure something out? Or did he just notice that I don¡¯t look like the others?!"


    "I¡­ I don¡¯t understand¡­" he stammered, taking a step back and raising his hands in an attempt to show he wasn¡¯t a threat.


    The guard ignored his gestures, stepping closer and speaking again¡ªlouder this time, his voice filled with irritation.


    Not knowing what else to do, Astar hurriedly nodded, hoping it would calm the creature.


    "Alright, alright¡­ I¡¯ll follow the others, okay?"


    But in the next instant, the guard¡¯s hand flared with a faint, mist-like glow. Before Astar could even comprehend what was happening, the creature struck him with a devastating blow straight to the stomach.


    BAM!


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Khaa!" Astar doubled over, letting out a strangled cry. Pain seared through his body like molten iron, and he collapsed to his knees. Nausea overtook him, and he couldn¡¯t hold back¡ªhe vomited right onto the stone floor.


    He gasped for air, clutching his abdomen, while the guard looked down at him with what seemed like disgust. Beyond the confusion, sheer terror gripped Astar.


    "Kumshak va-ar!" the guard barked again, and a sword appeared in his hand, its blade glinting with a faint light.


    A fresh wave of fear coursed through Astar, but before he could react, the guard slashed his weapon in one swift motion. The razor-sharp edge sliced through Astar¡¯s shirt with terrifying ease.


    "What do I do?!" he screamed inwardly, now drenched in cold sweat.


    But the guard paid no mind to his distress. He pointed the tip of his sword at Astar¡¯s pants, staring directly into his eyes.


    "He¡­ he wants me to take them off too?! What kind of insanity is this?!"


    Astar knew that resisting now would be suicide. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay composed, and with trembling hands, he began to remove his pajama pants. The whole time, the guard never took his eyes off him¡ªwatching like a predator sizing up its prey.


    He hastily pulled the pants off, feeling his face burn with fear and humiliation. But the guard wasn¡¯t finished. The gleaming blade pointed once more¡ªthis time at his underwear.


    "You¡¯ve got to be kidding me¡­" Astar thought, but he dared not say it aloud.


    Grinding his teeth, he grabbed the waistband and yanked them down in one swift motion, left completely bare. He stood there, trying to cover himself as best as he could, but quickly realized that none of the other prisoners even glanced in his direction. They moved like sleepwalkers, oblivious to him or the humiliating ordeal he was going through.


    "No one¡¯s even looking¡­ At least that¡¯s something."


    That thought provided some faint relief, but his fear of the guard far outweighed any comfort. Astar assumed he would now be allowed to move on, but at that moment, the guard growled something and abruptly pointed his sword toward the corner of the cell.


    "Skurta da amir!"


    Astar followed his gaze¡ªand felt his blood turn to ice.


    In the corner, slumped against the damp stone, lay a corpse. Its skin was a sickly blue-gray, its body skeletal, its ragged clothing soaked in filth. The stench of decay hung in the air. The person had been dead for some time.


    "No¡­" Astar whispered as he realized what was being demanded of him.


    The guard didn¡¯t wait for a response. He shouted again, this time with such fury that his voice echoed through the entire chamber.


    "Alright! Alright!" Astar yelled, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Damn it, just don¡¯t kill me!"


    He took a few shaky steps toward the corpse, his body trembling with revulsion. The stench of decay was unbearable, mixing with the already suffocating foulness that filled the air of the cell. Leaning down, he extended his trembling hands and began pulling the filthy, stench-soaked rags off the dead body.


    "Oh God¡­ why is this happening to me?" he muttered, trying not to look into the vacant, lifeless eyes frozen in emptiness.


    Fighting back the urge to vomit, Astar forced himself into the tattered clothing. The rough fabric scratched against his skin, clinging to him like a second layer of filth, and the stench seemed to seep into his pores. He felt disgusting, but he understood¡ªthis was the only way to stay alive.


    When he turned back to the guard, the creature wordlessly gestured for him to follow the other prisoners. Swallowing his humiliation and fear, Astar moved forward, doing his best not to think about what awaited him next.


    Breathing heavily, he followed his cellmates. His mind was in a vice¡ªendless questions, panic, and terror blended into a chaotic storm of thoughts.


    "What is happening here? Where even am I?!"


    He stole glances at the strange walls, the crude stone corridors barely illuminated by dim torches. With each step, his sense of horror deepened. He felt that if he thought too hard about all of this, his sanity would crack.


    Because of his endless work and negotiations, he never had time for movies or TV shows. Every book he had ever read was about business or self-improvement. But even so, he couldn¡¯t help but draw certain conclusions¡­


    "This¡­ this is another world, isn¡¯t it? Damn it, what kind of nonsense am I thinking¡­ But this can¡¯t be Earth! Horned people, breathing skeletons that don¡¯t even look alive¡­ How is any of this possible?!"


    Astar tried to pull himself together, but his thoughts darted in all directions. He remembered how, just last night, he had heard strange voices in his head. At the time, he had dismissed it as exhaustion, a hallucination born from overwork. But now¡­ now everything was starting to take on a new meaning.


    "Wait¡­ their language¡­ it sounded exactly the same! The voices in my head were speaking in this very language. How is that possible?!"


    His heartbeat pounded faster. He recalled how his day had started¡ªpain, dizziness, the overwhelming sensation of something foreign invading his consciousness.


    "This isn¡¯t a coincidence. The voices I heard¡­ they¡¯re connected to this place. Maybe they¡¯re the reason I¡¯m here? Wait¡­ at the very end, a man¡¯s voice called me ¡®son¡¯¡­ Were my damn parents some kind of cultists who cursed me?! Am I in hell?!"


    The shock and confusion dragged his mind into dark places, and for a brief moment, Astar let out a bitter chuckle¡ªwhether from terror or disbelief, he couldn¡¯t tell.


    "What irony. I spent all my time on business, deals, planning. I thought I was squeezing the most out of my life. And the moment I realized how empty my goals were¡­ I ended up in this nightmare!"


    He glanced at the other prisoners. Their faces were hollow, their bodies skeletal with exhaustion, yet none of them showed fear or even surprise. It was as if they were used to this horror.


    "Why are they so calm? Why aren¡¯t they screaming? Why isn¡¯t anyone trying to run?"


    He turned his gaze to the guard following behind them, watching their every move. The creature¡¯s dark red skin, glowing eyes, and horns looked as if they had been carved from another, alien world.


    "What are they going to do to me? Why am I here?!"


    The questions overwhelmed him, but Astar knew this wasn¡¯t the time to look for answers. Right now, only one thing mattered¡ªsurvival.


    "Panicking is pointless. The only thing I can do now is follow along, stay unnoticed, and wait for an opportunity¡­ if one ever comes. I used to be proud of surviving that hellish orphanage and building my own success¡­ but this place is a hundred times worse!"


    "Damn it! I finally achieved freedom, I was supposed to find my true purpose¡­ so why the hell is this happening to me now?!" He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to suppress the waves of fear, and kept moving, staying in step with the others.


    The path wasn¡¯t long, but its monotony made it feel endless. As they walked, other groups of prisoners began joining their procession. From the dark tunnels, like ghosts, emerged more of the same¡ªwretched, filthy people and strange creatures. Some shuffled forward with their heads bowed, while others staggered as if they might collapse at any moment. The guards¡ªidentical to the one escorting them¡ªremained indifferent, only occasionally barking commands.


    Astar struggled to keep up. The tattered, grimy rags clung repulsively to his body, and the stench around him grew worse. He pushed away thoughts of vomiting, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention.


    "Where are they taking us?" he wondered, sneaking glances around him.


    Finally, the corridor began to widen, and the group emerged into a vast hall. Astar stopped in his tracks, stunned by the sight before him.


    They stood at the edge of a colossal circular pit, as if carved into the heart of a mountain. It plunged downward for hundreds of meters, its walls lined with eerie lamps that held flames¡ªflames that burned without any visible fuel. The torchlight illuminated massive metal structures and crude bridges that stretched across the abyss.


    Faint daylight still trickled down from above, creating a haunting contrast between the bright upper levels and the abyss below.


    On different levels of the pit, hundreds¡ªif not thousands¡ªof prisoners labored. Their bent figures flickered here and there, moving aimlessly between wooden supports and stone ledges.


    Astar stood frozen, his feet feeling as if they had grown roots into the ground.


    "Is this¡­ hell? The real hell?"


    But there was no time to think. Dozens more guards emerged from the side tunnels, their massive forms moving with confidence, their heavy footsteps echoing through the entire pit.


    Each prisoner was handed a pickaxe. When Astar''s turn came, he didn''t immediately understand what was expected of him. A guard shoved the tool into his hands so roughly that he nearly lost his balance.


    "Kur la-adar!" the creature barked.


    "What¡­ What am I supposed to do with this?" Astar asked, trying to keep his voice steady.


    No answer came. Instead, another guard shouted something, and the rest of the prisoners hurried to their positions along the stone walls of the pit. Some immediately began working, others hesitated, but soon enough, the rhythmic sound of pickaxes striking rock filled the air.


    Astar remained standing, unsure of what to do¡ªuntil he felt the guard approach him again. That same eerie mist began to swirl around its hand.


    Without waiting to find out what would happen next, Astar gripped his pickaxe and swung it at the rock.


    Clang!


    The metal struck hard stone with a dull ring. The echo of the impact rippled through the pit, as if the mine itself was mocking him, repeating the sound again and again.


    "Fuck! Is this my punishment for being lucky?! My freedom has turned into slavery?! Am I just going to dig until I drop dead?!" Astar cursed inwardly.


    In that moment, he suddenly remembered what he had said just yesterday: "I¡¯m grateful, fate. I don¡¯t know how many more chances you¡¯ll throw my way, but I¡¯ll take them all. Just one thing¡ªlet my next chance be tied to my true calling."


    "Was my calling to be a miner?! What the hell?!"


    Fear twisted into anger inside him.


    Though he had always kept himself in shape with regular exercise, his arms began to tremble after only a few swings. The pickaxe was incredibly heavy, but he didn¡¯t dare stop.


    He kept working, each movement taking more effort than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his muscles ached from exertion, and his mind teetered on the edge of chaos.


    "What am I doing here? How did I get here? What are the rules of this place? How do I survive?!"


    He stole glances at the other prisoners, trying to glean something from their behavior. They looked like they had been doing this for a long time¡ªperhaps days, perhaps weeks. Their movements were practiced and efficient. With each strike, their pickaxes broke off large chunks of rock.


    Some prisoners occasionally unearthed strange, luminous white-blue crystals. These finds were handled with an almost reverent care, placed carefully into wooden carts stationed nearby. Guards stood over the carts, silently watching the process.


    "We¡¯re here to mine crystals," Astar realized, watching as one prisoner excitedly rushed to place a large shard into the cart.


    The surrounding workers paid him no attention, remaining completely focused on their tasks. The mine filled with the relentless clang of pickaxes, vibrating through the walls and air.


    "I haven¡¯t found a single one yet. What happens if this continues?"


    Fear crept deeper into his bones, but Astar forced himself to keep going. He struck the rock as hard as he could, but all that broke off were worthless chunks of stone.


    Hour after hour, he observed the others, searching for any clues. Some workers, exhausted to their limits, began to slow down¡ªonly to be met with a lash of the guards¡¯ whips. Those who found crystals seemed almost relieved and continued working with renewed energy, as if their lives depended on their speed.


    "There¡¯s no time to think things through rationally¡­" Astar thought, his body barely keeping pace with the relentless rhythm of the mine.


    The filthy rags he had put on clung to his sweat-drenched skin. The stench was unbearable, but the suffocating, dusty air of the mine nearly drowned it out. His hands began to go numb, and his mouth, nose, and ears were already clogged with dust.


    "Shit, shit, shit¡­" he muttered under his breath, struggling to keep going.


    He glanced at the carts filled with crystals and realized¡ªhe needed to find one too. Otherwise, this place would become his grave.


    Astar¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, sharp shouts of the overseers, cutting through the steady rhythm of pickaxes. He looked up and saw a group of guards gathering around one of the prisoners not far from him.


    The man was skeletal, so emaciated that it seemed his body was on the verge of breaking apart. One of the guards grabbed him roughly by his clothes¡ªand something tumbled out from beneath the filthy rags. A blue crystal.


    "Luramind ulgu-dur!" the guard roared, his voice echoing through the mine.


    The man tried to say something, to explain himself, but his words were brutally cut off by a blow to the face. His body was sent flying against the wall, and the guards pounced on him immediately. The strikes rained down¡ªfists, boots, and then the crack of a whip.


    Astar couldn¡¯t look away. He stood frozen, every muscle in his body tightening with fear.


    "He tried to hide the crystal..."


    That realization made his heart pound even harder. Now he knew¡ªthere would be no leniency here. Any mistake, any deviation from the rules, would be punished with merciless brutality.


    "Bastards," he whispered under his breath, but he forced himself to shut up immediately, remembering where he was.


    He turned away and resumed hacking at the rock, trying to ignore what was happening.


    "Better to keep my head down. Don¡¯t show sympathy, don¡¯t play the hero. Stay invisible and just keep working. This is like a super shitty job with a boss who doesn¡¯t even see you as human¡­ but a hundred times worse," Astar muttered internally, glancing around cautiously.


    "I¡¯ve been used to a comfortable life for a long time, but I guess I¡¯ll have to remember what it was like back in the orphanage¡­ First, I need time¡ªto learn the rules and avoid trouble. Then, I need to figure out how to survive in a place like this..."


    He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sounds of the beating. His mind raced, desperate to form some kind of plan.


    "I don¡¯t even understand their language. If I try to explain anything, it¡¯ll just lead to misunderstandings. They might even think I¡¯m trying to trick them."


    The solution came to him suddenly.


    "I¡¯ll pretend to be mute. A clueless idiot who just does as he¡¯s told. That way, they¡¯ll have less reason to question me."


    He took a deep breath, swung the pickaxe again, and nodded to himself.


    "Work. Dig. Survive. With time, I¡¯ll figure out what to do. I just need to hold on until I get a chance to escape. There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m going to accept being a slave! And for now¡­ going home is out of the question."


    The screams finally faded, but the horror of what had just happened lingered in the air. Astar shoved thoughts of the unfortunate prisoner out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on one thing¡ªsurvival.

 Chapter 3 — The Miner

    Several days had passed since Astar''s inexplicable arrival in the mines.


    He still didn¡¯t fully understand what was happening, but he kept working. Every day bled into the next¡ªdirt, cold stone underfoot, the endless clanging of pickaxes. His muscles ached constantly, his fingers were numb, and his skin had cracked and bled in places from the relentless friction.


    Rest was a formality, and the food was miserable. After each shift, they were fed a strange, tasteless porridge and water, then herded back into the dungeons, where they collapsed onto the cold, wet ground, hoping to close their eyes for even a moment. But sleep brought no relief¡ªhis body didn¡¯t recover, and his mind was torn apart by emotional exhaustion.


    "This is worse than I ever imagined¡­ Slaving away in the comfort of Labyrinth¡¯s office was bliss compared to this," Astar thought as he stretched his stiff muscles before beginning another day, trying to ease the pain even a little.


    In all these days, he hadn¡¯t found a single crystal. And each day, his fear grew.


    "Why haven¡¯t they punished me yet?"


    Watching the other prisoners, he began to see a pattern. As long as someone worked with complete effort, even if they didn¡¯t find any crystals, they were spared. But if someone slacked off or only pretended to work, the guards reacted immediately, turning the moment into a brutal lesson for the rest.


    "Seems they value hard work regardless of results. Maybe this is some kind of penal colony? But then why the hell am I here?" he asked himself.


    After the initial shock of those first days, Astar managed to regain a semblance of composure. After all, he¡¯d experienced rough conditions on Earth too. He was furious that his freedom and everything he¡¯d worked for had been trampled so cruelly. He didn¡¯t know whether to blame God, his parents, or someone else entirely, but one thing was certain¡ªhe was angry.


    It felt like he had started to hallucinate about freedom and a peaceful life all over again, building survival strategies for the mine. His brain, conditioned for years to operate in crisis mode, didn¡¯t easily switch off. Old instincts quickly adapted to new circumstances, and his predatory nature began to stir again.


    Astar realized there was no point trying to logically explain how he¡¯d ended up in this strange world. But what could be reasoned out was how to squeeze every last advantage from the situation.


    "Alright¡­ as long as I keep working hard, I have a chance to survive."


    That thought became his anchor. He focused on every strike of his pickaxe, forcing out the pain and fear.


    On one of those relentless days, when his muscles were barely functioning, Astar suddenly noticed a faint gleam in the rock before him. His heart stopped¡ªthen kicked into overdrive.


    "Is that¡­ is that it?!"


    He shoved the rubble aside and dropped his pickaxe, leaning in close. There, nestled deep in the stone, was a crystal¡ªsmall, but glowing like blue fire.


    "My first¡­ after all this time," he thought. "Ha¡­ ha-ha! Well then..." He exhaled, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.


    "Looks like I get to live a little longer!"


    His hands trembled. He glanced around to see if any guards were watching. Then, carefully, he reached out, intending to pry it free.


    Astar brushed his fingers against the crystal, but the moment his skin touched its glowing surface, a shock ran through him. He jerked back, expecting pain¡ªbut instead felt something entirely different. A warm, gentle wave washed through his body, filling him with a sense of power and vitality.


    "What¡­ is this?" he whispered, staring at his fingers, which now seemed to shimmer faintly.


    Panic surged through him. "If the guards see this, they''ll think I''m up to something. I can¡¯t afford to hesitate!"


    He drew a deep breath, forced down the fear, and reached for the crystal again. This time, despite the strange tingling, he grabbed it firmly and pulled it from the rock. The crystal lay in his palm, cool to the touch¡ªyet it felt alive.


    At that very moment, something began pouring into him. It felt like a stream of pure energy coursing through every cell in his body. The muscle pain began to fade. The cuts on his fingers sealed before his eyes. The exhaustion that had haunted him for days melted away.


    "What the hell is happening?!" Astar thought, stunned.


    But there was no time to figure it out. He glanced around, spotted a nearby cart, and knew¡ªif he waited even a second too long, it could cost him dearly.


    Clutching the crystal in his hand, he bolted toward the cart, doing his best not to betray the shock or relief swirling inside him. His legs moved swiftly, his body responding in a way it hadn¡¯t for days.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡± he muttered under his breath as he dropped the crystal into the cart.


    As it hit the pile of other crystals, he could almost hear a faint click inside his mind, as though some invisible link had just snapped. The energy that had been flowing into him vanished in an instant, leaving behind only a lingering warmth in his chest.


    "These aren¡¯t just precious stones¡­" Astar realized as he quickly made his way back to his station.


    He picked up his pickaxe again, surprised by the renewed freshness in his muscles. Pretending to stay focused on his work, Astar¡¯s thoughts spun around what had just happened.


    "These crystals¡­ it¡¯s like¡­ I don¡¯t know what happened, but something inside them gave me strength. It even healed my wounds¡­ The laws of physics here must be completely different. There¡¯s nothing like this on Earth."


    He looked up, scanning the area to see if anyone had noticed. Everything appeared normal: prisoners swung their pickaxes at the walls, guards watched in silence from the shadows.


    "I wonder if the others can heal too when they touch the crystals¡­ But no one else seems to react like I did. Better play it safe¡ªact tired, or the guards might start asking questions."


    Astar continued working at his usual sluggish pace, but now he knew¡ªthere was something far more important hidden within this mine. And that gave him something he hadn¡¯t felt in days: hope.


    Time passed slowly, and each day stretched into an eternity.


    The mine¡¯s routine was brutal and monotonous, but Astar had learned to adapt. He knew not to linger too long, but also never to appear too full of energy.


    Whenever he found a crystal, he would pace himself carefully, taking just long enough to carry it to the cart without drawing suspicion. Not too fast, not too slow. During these moments, he felt the crystal¡¯s energy soaking into him¡ªeasing his exhaustion, healing his wounds, restoring his strength. But he knew better than to rely on it too much.


    "Just enough to recharge. Then get rid of it. No need to get beaten half to death," he reasoned.


    Over time, Astar noticed something else: in the discarded rubble, tiny crystal shards would sometimes remain¡ªso small that no one else paid them any attention. The guards didn¡¯t seem to consider them valuable at all.


    "This is my chance," he realized one day, spotting a sliver no larger than a grain of sand glinting inside a chunk of stone.


    Astar pretended to be fixated on it, like a starving child discovering a crumb of food. He crouched down, plucked the shard free, and swiftly slipped it into his mouth.


    From the outside, it just looked like a prisoner so far gone he was trying to chew on rocks. A few nearby glanced at him, but said nothing. In a place like this, where madness and starvation were constant companions, no one questioned strange behavior. Everyone was too busy surviving.


    "Please¡­ don¡¯t let them notice," he whispered to himself, clenching his teeth as the shard began to dissolve on his tongue.


    It melted slowly, leaving behind a strange tingling sensation. A warm wave flowed through his body, restoring his strength. His fatigue ebbed, and the raw cuts on his hands began to heal.


    "It worked again..."


    Astar decided he would keep doing this whenever he got the chance. He began to fake interest in random stones, occasionally lifting them to his face as if inspecting them¡ªand slipping a shard into his mouth, only to spit the rest out half an hour later.


    From the outside, it looked pitiful, even absurd¡ªbut no one, not even the guards, gave it a second glance. To them, he was just another broken prisoner, slowly losing his mind.


    And so, an entire month passed¡­


    To Astar¡¯s surprise, his body had grown stronger than the others¡¯. It seemed the crystals didn¡¯t just heal¡ªthey accumulated inside him. He had learned to recover in secret, using the shards to regain strength, all while keeping up the facade. To the guards and fellow prisoners, he was still just the mute fool who worked to survive and nothing more.


    "Stay invisible. Thanks to these crystals, I finally have a tool for survival," he told himself, clinging to the fragile spark of hope.


    Every day remained a kind of hell, but deep down, Astar held onto his faith in himself. Slowly, he began to notice patterns in the guards¡¯ behavior. He studied how the mine was organized and began adapting accordingly.


    Over the course of that month, Astar gradually adjusted to the brutal rhythm of this new reality. The panic that had gripped him at first was replaced by cold determination. He observed. He remembered. He adapted.


    One of the turning points came when Astar met Dalanar¡ªa grim man he had first encountered on his very first day. Astar had immediately noticed that this man was different from the other prisoners. Dalanar¡¯s face was lined with scars, his black hair always tied back in a tight tail, and his gaze was weary but firm. There was confidence in his movements, and a quiet authority in the way he held himself¡ªlike someone used to being in command.


    Astar quickly realized the man was watching him. From time to time, Dalanar would glance at him thoughtfully, as if trying to figure something out. At first, it made Astar nervous, but over time, he noticed that the man didn¡¯t show any hostility. On the contrary, he occasionally stepped in to ward off other aggressive inmates.


    "Maybe he figured out I¡¯m not insane. I did try to speak on the first day, even if he didn¡¯t understand a word," Astar thought, swinging his pickaxe.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Dalanar had tried to speak to him a few times. His voice was low and gravelly, and his words sounded like a mix of harsh syllables and strange intonations. Astar, of course, understood nothing, but he made a quick decision: he would play the part of the mute fool, simply nodding or using gestures to show agreement or attention.


    It worked. The man seemed to assume Astar didn¡¯t know the language for whatever reason. Still, he continued talking, sometimes repeating the same words as if trying to get the meaning across through context.


    That was how Astar began to learn¡ªand grow closer to his hardened companion in misery.


    He started picking out individual words, linking them to gestures or actions. Slowly, he learned the man¡¯s name: Dalanar. It came up often when other prisoners addressed him. Sometimes it was spoken with respect, sometimes with fear.


    "This Dalanar¡­ he¡¯s not here by accident. He moves like a soldier¡ªor something similar. I need to figure out who he is and how he survives."


    Astar kept listening silently. Sometimes he nodded, sometimes pointed at something to show he understood. It might have looked ridiculous from the outside, but gradually Dalanar began to treat him more calmly, as if taking the mute fool under his invisible wing. Though Astar had once been the leader, the one offering help to others in his ¡°previous life,¡± he now understood the value of staying low and close to someone dependable.


    Their silent bond slowly solidified. Astar continued to observe Dalanar, picking up new words along the way. He still didn¡¯t understand most of what was said¡ªbut he had begun to grasp the tone and intent of conversations around him.


    The days passed, blending into an endless cycle.


    Astar kept up the act of the mute fool, but now it came more naturally. His strategy with the crystal shards was working¡ªhe no longer suffered the unbearable physical agony of the early weeks. In fact, he had noticed that his body was getting stronger.


    Daily labor, constant digging, and the slow absorption of crystal energy were steadily transforming his physique. The skin on his hands had toughened, and his muscles had become defined. He¡¯d always kept fit, but now¡­ now he was stronger than ever.


    "Damn¡­ compared to this, a gym is a joke. Then again, without those miraculous crystals, I¡¯d have dropped dead from exhaustion a long time ago," he thought, glancing at his reflection in the occasional pool of drinking water they were given.


    But the change wasn¡¯t just physical. His mind had shifted, too. He still feared the guards, but he had learned to live with it. Every step, every action now came from cold calculation. Astar had started to accept this place as a new reality¡ªand began to plan how to survive it.


    "As long as I¡¯m here, I need to adapt. I can¡¯t let anyone think I¡¯m weak or useless. Especially those horned bastards."


    His interactions with Dalanar were finally paying off. Through their quiet connection, Astar had learned to isolate frequently used words in the language. Gradually, he began to understand their meaning¡ª"food," "work," "crystal," "stop."


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it opened a door. Astar even began to catch the intent behind certain guard commands, which helped him avoid drawing attention to himself.


    He swung his pickaxe in silence, but his mind was always busy¡ªstudying anything that might help him survive. He watched the guards, the prisoners, the rhythms of the mine. And slowly, he began to understand how things worked.


    With each passing day, Astar became more convinced: his act as the mute fool was working. The guards accepted it. Even some of the prisoners had started to ignore him completely.


    "Invisibility is power," he thought, pressing another tiny crystal shard into his mouth, tasting the grit and dust. "But what the hell do I need this power for? I was supposed to have a free, beautiful life¡ªnot slave away in the mines of some parallel world!"


    Remembering his past, anger flared inside him. He started swinging harder.


    "Damn it¡­ I just want to lie in a clean bed and eat a decent meal¡­ Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Each curse was punctuated by a brutal strike of the pickaxe.


    Thanks to the changes in his body, breaking through stone had become easier. He was finding more crystals now. Only then did he notice something else¡ªhe had started receiving double food portions. But even more than that, what truly pleased him was the increased chance to touch those magical crystals more often.


    Work went on as usual, the mine''s drone becoming part of the background¡ªan endless hum like a hive¡¯s constant buzz. Astar swung his pickaxe with quiet focus, doing his best to remain invisible, when suddenly, loud shouts broke out to his left.


    He turned his head and saw two prisoners locked in a vicious fight. Their voices cut through the rhythm of pickaxes, and their movements were so sharp, so violent, that they immediately drew attention.


    "Idiots..." Astar thought, instinctively dropping his gaze to avoid looking too interested.


    It all happened fast: nearby guards charged toward the brawl, their hulking bodies thundering across the stone. What followed was a brutal crackdown¡ªwhips cracked, boots stomped, screams were muffled beneath violence. Around them, all the other prisoners quickly refocused on their tasks, trying not to attract any of that wrath.


    Astar returned to his pickaxe, forcing himself to look absorbed in his work.


    "The less I see, the longer I live," he reminded himself.


    He swung again¡ªand the sound that followed was different.


    Clang! A bright, ringing note echoed, like metal striking something solid¡ªbut not stone. Astar froze.


    Emerging from the rock before him was a crystal¡ªthis time a good-sized one. Blue, luminous, shimmering as though it held tremendous energy. Its surface gleamed, drawing the eye.


    "A fine catch!"


    But excitement quickly gave way to tension. A dangerous, reckless, and incredibly tempting thought crept into his mind¡­ All the guards were focused on the fight. The nearby prisoners kept their heads down, avoiding attention.


    "No one¡¯s looking¡­ What if I¡ª"


    Without wasting a moment, he reached for the crystal, trying to pry it free. As his fingers touched its surface, that now-familiar warmth pulsed through his body. It felt like life¡ªlike raw strength¡ªbut Astar crushed the sensation, forcing himself to stay focused.


    "Get a grip, idiot. Don¡¯t risk it. But then again¡­ taking risks is what got me out of hell before. Have I really grown so soft I¡¯m scared of a challenge?"


    He stood still, the crystal in his hand, torn between instinct and caution. But his body, driven by something primal, decided for him.


    In one swift motion, as if in a trance, he shoved the crystal into his mouth.


    In that instant, the world seemed to stop. A rush of energy surged through him¡ªpleasurable, intoxicating, overwhelming. The power he had once felt from tiny fragments was nothing compared to this.


    The flow of strength tore through his body, pulsing with almost unbearable intensity, concentrating behind his forehead. Astar felt his muscles fill with power, his wounds and cuts sealing up at a supernatural speed.


    "God¡­ this is incredible!" he thought, euphoric.


    The energy felt like a river of heat, cleansing him from the inside, leaving behind an almost divine clarity. He felt as if he could lift the whole mine with his bare hands. His thoughts sharpened¡ªlike someone had blown the dust off long-forgotten corners of his mind.


    And no one had noticed.


    All the guards were distracted by the fight. The other prisoners, numb to violence, didn¡¯t even glance up.


    "No one saw¡­ Thank God, that was perfect timing!"


    His heart pounded wildly. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he returned to his pickaxe, doing everything he could to mask the surge of excitement.


    "This power¡­ it¡¯s real. But I can¡¯t give myself away. I need to act like nothing happened."


    He resumed working, his strikes steady, but inside, his body felt reborn. The fatigue that had haunted him since day one vanished. Sweat poured from his body¡ªthick, rancid sweat, as if all the toxins and illnesses were being flushed out through his pores. Anywhere else, the smell would¡¯ve drawn attention immediately¡ªbut here, it blended right in with the mine¡¯s overwhelming stench.


    "Whoever owns this mine¡­ if they can casually possess crystals like this, what kind of power do they have?" he thought, casting a quick glance at the guards still punishing the fighters.


    He barely had time to raise his pickaxe again before one of the guards looked directly at him.


    The guard¡ªtall, massive, with dark red skin and cruel eyes¡ªpaused, as if he¡¯d noticed something. His gaze lingered on Astar longer than usual.


    Astar¡¯s heart skipped a beat, then began pounding in his chest like a drum.


    "Shit. Why did I look at him?! I¡¯m screwed!"


    His mouth, stuffed with the crystal, made it nearly impossible to breathe properly. The crystal was far too large to go unnoticed¡ªhis cheek bulged visibly, and there was no hiding it.


    ¡°If he realizes what I¡¯m doing¡­¡±


    Astar felt a wave of cold wash over him. A thousand scenarios raced through his mind, and each of them ended with him being brutally punished.


    But suddenly, the guard laughed. A rough, guttural sound¡ªalmost a growl. He raised his hand and pointed straight at Astar.


    "Mura-s al! Ha-ha-ha!" his loud voice rang out, drawing the attention of the other guards.


    They turned, and their faces broke into mocking grins. One puffed out his cheeks, mimicking someone who had filled their mouth with stones. The others joined in, making exaggerated faces and pretending to chew. Their laughter echoed through the mine like a cruel chorus.


    Astar understood: over the past few weeks, he had truly become the local fool. Their reaction made it clear¡ªthey didn¡¯t take him seriously at all.


    "Now that¡¯s luck..." he thought, carefully hiding his overwhelming relief.


    He shook his head slowly, pretending not to understand why they were laughing, and went back to swinging his pickaxe with renewed vigor. While the guards continued their mockery, he kept sucking on the crystal as if it were just another rock¡ªlike always.


    "I got out of that one¡­ But I need to be more careful. Next time, I might not be so lucky."


    He returned to work, keeping up the appearance of a harmless fool, while inside his mind, he replayed every moment, analyzing it to avoid future mistakes.


    The day dragged on, but Astar, charged with the crystal¡¯s energy, worked like never before.


    He felt power pulsing through every cell of his body. The crystal had shrunk, but it was still large enough to show¡ªif someone looked closely. That made him move with extra caution.


    During the meal, he tried to stay out of view. No normal prisoner could work like he did, especially not without collapsing from hunger. So he had to fake weakness, leaning against the wall as if too tired to stand straight while eating.


    Each spoonful of the tasteless porridge was torture¡ªit was harder than he expected to chew with a crystal in his mouth. Astar made his movements slow and dull, trying not to attract any attention.


    "If anyone notices¡­ No. Don¡¯t even think about it."


    Fortunately, no one seemed to suspect a thing. He still looked like the same desperate fool who sometimes chewed rocks out of sheer madness.


    After the shift ended, he followed the other prisoners back to their cell. They marched in silence¡ªonly the guards paid any attention to the group. Up ahead loomed the heavy door of the cell where Astar had spent every night.


    Inside, he instinctively sat next to Dalanar, no longer even noticing the rancid stench. The man immediately leaned back against the wall and began to doze. Astar mimicked him, settling in and closing his eyes, pretending to be worn out.


    But he wasn¡¯t tired. On the contrary¡ªhis body buzzed with energy. His muscles pulsed with strength, and his mind felt clearer than ever. His heartbeat raced, not from fear or anxiety, but from the powerful current still flowing through him.


    "I¡¯ve never felt this strong in my life. Not even when I was training back on Earth!"


    He clenched his fist and marveled at the way his body responded¡ªfluid and precise, as if resistance had vanished.


    "These crystals¡­ they¡¯re changing me."


    Astar turned his head slowly, observing the others. Most were asleep or drifting into unconsciousness, their bodies frail and broken. The contrast between them and his own condition was jarring.


    "If I can use this power right, I¡¯ll have a real chance to survive¡­ No, more than that. I¡¯ll have a chance to escape this hell."


    With that thought, he allowed himself to relax and close his eyes. Sleep didn¡¯t come, but he lay still, letting no one see he was fully awake.


    His mind, fueled by the crystal¡¯s energy, began building new plans, strategies, ideas. "I need time. I need to understand how they work. And above all¡­ I need to stay in the shadows until the real chance to escape appears."


    With that thought, Astar began to drift toward sleep. His body, warm and brimming with power, sank into a pleasant void. The warmth flowing from within spread through his limbs like an invisible stream of life.


    But something strange was happening.


    Unnoticed by him, faint wisps of steam began to rise from his skin. They were nearly invisible in the dark¡ªthin tendrils, warm but not hot, like a continuation of the energy from the crystal still dissolving within him.


    At first, it was barely perceptible. But gradually, it grew. The steam thickened, forming a light mist around his body. The crystal inside him had nearly dissolved, releasing one final surge of power.


    And then something strange happened¡­


    DONG!


    A loud, resonant chime rang out inside his mind¡ªlike the toll of a colossal bell, distant but powerful enough to shake the very core of his skull.


    Kgah¡­ Astar¡¯s eyes snapped open. His muscles tensed, and his heart skipped a beat.


    He clenched his fists, as if bracing for a fight¡ªbut then froze, stunned.


    Because he was no longer in the cell.


    He was somewhere else¡ªsomewhere that resembled space, yet unlike any cosmos he¡¯d ever imagined. There were no stars¡­ only swirling sparks, orbs of flame suspended in the void, circling around him in strange, silent patterns.

 Chapter 4 — Memoria

    The space Astar found himself in was¡­ fantastical.


    Gone were the damp stone walls and the foul stench of the dungeon. Around him stretched an endless expanse of deep black-blue. But this darkness wasn¡¯t frightening. It was thick like velvet¡ªsoft, and strangely comforting. And all around him floated shimmering lights. They didn¡¯t fall, didn¡¯t rise¡ªjust hovered, suspended as if by invisible currents of air.


    Astar turned, feeling his breath slow. He cautiously took a step forward¡ªbut felt no solid surface beneath his feet. His body simply floated in this strange place, as if the very space itself was holding him up.


    ¡°Goddamn¡­¡± he whispered, glancing around. ¡°This is getting more and more absurd. If this is a dream, it¡¯s devilishly realistic.¡±


    His words seemed to dissolve into silence. There was no echo here, no familiar sounds¡ªonly the gentle flicker of sparks and a strange sense of calm.


    And then, something happened¡ªsomething he hadn''t expected at all.


    Astar felt a strange, yet unmistakable sensation. He stopped, trying to grasp what exactly was happening. It was like a flash of intuition¡ªbut far deeper.


    Each of the lights surrounding him seemed to whisper in an unknown language. But their whisper wasn''t made of words¡ªit was felt in his heart, in his mind. It was like the softest music, where every note was connected to him by some invisible thread.


    ¡°What is this¡­¡± he murmured, reaching out toward the nearest spark.


    It flared brighter, as if responding to his presence. But it didn¡¯t touch him¡ªonly drifted slowly away from his palm. Still, Astar felt its warmth, and suddenly understood: he wasn¡¯t just seeing these sparks. He could feel them. Each and every one.


    Some stronger, some weaker¡ªbut every spark was part of something whole. And more than that, they were connected to him. They belonged to something shared, linked together by unseen strands, like a vast web. A web that bound them all¡­


    ¡°This¡­ this is madness,¡± he said, pressing a hand to his chest, where he felt a faint vibration.


    The lights seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, as if resonating with his thoughts. The strangest, most unsettling part was that the sensation reminded him of something he had only imagined¡ªthe feeling people must have when surrounded by family. A feeling he himself had never truly known.


    The realization hit Astar like a wave crashing into his chest. His parents. His orphanhood. His childhood dreams. All of it seemed to rise before him in this infinite space. The sparks, bound to him by invisible threads, suddenly reminded him of something he¡¯d never experienced: belonging. Of parents he had always longed for, even as he rejected the idea out of self-preservation.


    He clutched at his clothes, not noticing how his breathing had become ragged. His chest tightened under the weight of rising emotions, as if long-buried memories had finally broken through the dam he had so carefully constructed around his soul.


    ¡°Goddamn it¡­¡± he muttered through gritted teeth, feeling his eyes sting with tears.


    Orphanhood had always been his deepest, most forbidden wound. He had sealed that part of himself away, building walls of sarcasm and cynicism to avoid feeling weak. He always told himself that family meant nothing. That he didn¡¯t need it. That he was stronger than anyone because he had survived alone¡ªbecause he had built his life from nothing.


    But now¡­


    This feeling¡ªstrange, warm, almost painful¡ªoverwhelmed him. These sparks, linked to him and to each other, had given him something he had never known before. Kinship. Belonging. He felt it with every fiber of his being.


    ¡°What the hell is happening to me?!¡± he whispered, curling his fingers so tightly his nails dug into his palms.


    A single tear slid down his cheek, but Astar inhaled deeply, pushing the weakness away. He couldn¡¯t afford to break down¡ªespecially not in this place. His gaze hardened, and the muscles in his face tensed, as if preparing for a fight.


    ¡°No. I won¡¯t let this place break me!¡±


    His eyes were still glistening, but with sheer force of will, he straightened his back. He wiped away the tears and stared at the lights as if challenging everything they represented.


    "Is this some kind of damned trial or what?! I won''t give in!"


    Yet despite the defiance in his mind, he couldn¡¯t ignore the warmth the lights continued to radiate. It wrapped around him, calming him, gently reminding him¡ªhe wasn¡¯t alone.


    Astar stood amidst the endless expanse, watching the flickering lights float around him. But then one of them began to change. It stood out¡ªnot by brightness, but by darkness. Unlike the others, which glowed softly, this one seemed to absorb the light around it, creating a sense of something deeply alien.


    The dark flame drifted slowly toward him, leaving behind a faint trail. Astar froze, a strange mix of curiosity and unease rising inside him. His gaze locked onto it, drawn by something unseen. He could feel a connection, a pull¡ªthere was definitely something between him and this fire¡­


    ¡°What are you¡­¡± he whispered, reaching out.


    The moment his fingers touched the dark flame, reality exploded.


    DU-DOOM!


    A blinding pain tore through him, as though a thousand searing needles stabbed into every cell of his body. His chest tightened, his skull felt like it was splitting open, and a scream of agony burst from his throat, echoing through the infinite darkness.


    ¡°Aaaaaagh!¡± he cried, collapsing to his knees. But his hands seemed fused to the flame, unable to let go.


    The pain wasn¡¯t just physical. Something foreign and incomprehensible began clawing into his mind, rifling through his memories. It felt like he was losing himself¡ªhis past, his identity.


    Through the searing agony, Astar saw a black stream of energy flowing from the flame into him. Other currents appeared from afar, as if summoned by the flame¡ªdark tendrils from another plane, converging on him. It was as though they were marking him, claiming him.


    And then¡ªvisions.


    Scene after scene flashed before his eyes, as if he were reliving someone else¡¯s life through their eyes. A man in black robes. His face shrouded in shadow. Dark violet energy swirled around his hands, curling and dancing like the silhouettes of living beings. He wielded it with destructive grace¡ªlaying waste to strange cities unlike anything from Earth. Each movement was filled with power, control, and terrifying intent.


    "What is this?! Who is he?!" Astar thought in panic, but the pain was too overwhelming to focus.


    Another vision: the same man hovering in the sky above ruins. That violet energy spiraled around him as he looked down at vast hordes of monstrous creatures. He was saying something, but no sound came¡ªonly a low hum that filled the space around him.


    Each vision pulled Astar deeper into chaos. He couldn¡¯t tell what he was seeing. The past? The future? And why him? Who was this man?


    "No¡­ these aren¡¯t just visions," flashed through his mind¡ªjust before another wave of pain and images overwhelmed him, nearly tearing his consciousness apart.


    Then, just as he was about to vanish in the storm, the chaotic images fell away¡­ sifted out¡­ leaving behind something specific. A fraction. A fragment. A shard of knowledge¡ªsome sliver of the man¡¯s understanding¡ªtransferring directly into Astar¡¯s mind.


    He felt like his entire body was burning from the inside, his mind flooded by wave after wave of unbearable pain. But even in the torment, something changed: the chaos began to take shape. This wasn¡¯t just suffering. This was¡­ learning.


    Tiny fragments of understanding bloomed in his thoughts, as though someone were opening doors to mysteries he¡¯d never known existed.


    "What is this¡­?" he whispered inwardly, clenching his jaw to keep from screaming again.


    The visions returned¡ªbut now in order. Like pages of a book he had never read, but which was now becoming a part of him. He saw the face of the man at last¡ªgolden eyes, sharp and unforgiving. Long violet hair. A deep scar running across his face. And Astar was no longer a spectator. The knowledge was becoming his own.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    He watched as the man manipulated the violet energy with perfect mastery. It flowed from his hands, forming shapes¡ªspirits of shadow, bound to his will. Every movement was precise, as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra. His forehead glowed, and something began to take shape¡ªan object, dark and strange. A tablet. Black, with glowing runes etched into it.


    Astar didn¡¯t know how, but he understood: the tablet held a technique. A sealed art, bound in spirit form¡ªand it began to form before him in this space, surrounded by the countless lights.


    "This is his power¡­ But why am I seeing this? Why am I feeling this?" he murmured, but no answer came.


    More knowledge poured in¡ªnot just images, but understanding. Astar realized this wasn¡¯t simply being shown to him. It was being given to him. These insights weren¡¯t foreign anymore¡ªthey were becoming his. He could feel his mind stretching, expanding, as if subtle threads of comprehension were weaving themselves into his soul. What had once seemed like mysticism was now suddenly... tangible.


    And then he realized something else¡ªsomething far more terrifying:


    This flame, both dark and brilliant, wasn¡¯t just some foreign entity...


    Alongside the strange black tablet came understanding¡ªfragments of knowledge, of fundamental concepts from this world that was still so alien to him.


    ¡°Memoria,¡± ¡°Source of Memoria,¡± and ¡°Ancestral Memory.¡± These weren¡¯t just words¡ªthey were the key ideas passed to him through the visions! Nothing more¡ªand nothing less.


    At that moment, Astar¡¯s eyes seemed to flood with blood. A dreadful realization crashed over him¡ªone he desperately did not want to accept.


    ¡°No! That¡¯s not possible!¡± he shouted through clenched teeth, his voice strained with pain. ¡°There¡¯s no way I was born in this world!¡±


    He gasped for breath, chest rising and falling like someone who had just broken the surface of an icy lake. The words ¡°I was born in this world¡± echoed in his mind, each repetition ringing like a bell, striking deeper into his psyche.


    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s a mistake¡­ a mistake!¡± He clenched his fists, but the weight of the revelation, compounded by the weakness in his limbs, kept him frozen in place. ¡°I... I grew up on Earth! I had friends! A career! My parents were just bastards who abandoned me!¡±


    The visions returned in waves, each one reinforcing the knowledge he had absorbed. Now he knew: the dark flame was the soul of a long-dead man¡ªand the most horrifying truth was that this man had been one of his ancestors, as were all the other flames in this place.


    And if that was true¡­ then he himself must also be from this world.


    ¡°Memoria.¡± ¡°Source of Memoria.¡± ¡°Ancestral Memory.¡±


    These words, passed to him by the flame, now echoed in his mind with chilling clarity. Coupled with fragments of the man¡¯s memories, their meaning began to crystallize¡­


    The energy Astar had been absorbing from the crystals in the mine¡ªit was called memoria. Memoria was the primal substance that permeated this world; and according to the locals¡¯ beliefs, even souls were woven from it.


    And from what he now understood, nearly every living being used memoria at some level. When a being died, its soul and memories returned to the Source of Memoria¡ªa collective space where all knowledge, emotions, and experiences merged into one.


    From this arose the concept known here as Ancestral Memory. When a new being is born, their parents pass on a spiritual imprint, forever linking the child to one of the ancestral lines¡ªeither the father¡¯s or the mother¡¯s. This wasn¡¯t mere genetics. It was a soul-deep bond sealed in the Source of Memoria.


    The information Astar had received was scattered, fragmented, and lacking clear structure. He didn¡¯t fully understand how it all worked¡­ But one thing was clear: by absorbing enough memoria, one could break through to a new state of existence. In that moment, the being would enter the Source of Memoria¡ªwhere the souls and memories of deceased ancestors resided, bound by lineage.


    It was a ritual¡ªone undergone by all who were capable of gathering and cultivating enough memoria to reach that threshold. Astar didn¡¯t know how, but during this process, a connection would be made with one of those ancestors, and a piece of their knowledge would be passed down. In this way, a family¡¯s strength and legacy were forged.


    And this was the realization that horrified Astar most¡ªbecause it was exactly what he was experiencing now. He had reached the Source of Memoria¡­ and received the memories of someone he was spiritually connected to. Someone of his own bloodline.


    But Astar was convinced: he had grown up on Earth. No magical threads or ancestral bonds could undo that truth.


    ¡°This is a lie! It has to be a lie!¡± he cried into the void. But only silence answered him¡ªpure and absolute.


    The flame before him continued to pulse softly, almost reassuringly, while the black tablet slowly materialized beside it. It felt as though the soul of the ancestor was waiting¡ªfor Astar to accept what had been passed down. But Astar wasn¡¯t ready.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a part of this world... I can¡¯t be!¡± His voice trembled, filled with fury, fear, and despair.


    Yet alongside his denials, something else stirred inside him¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t push away. He felt a connection to this place. To the flame. To the man from the visions. The bond was deep, intimate, undeniable.


    ¡°Could I really belong to this strange world? What the hell is happening to me?!¡±


    That thought pierced his defenses like a dagger driven straight into his heart. Astar clenched his teeth, fighting the scream threatening to rise in his throat. He didn¡¯t want to accept this¡ªbut everything inside him, every cell in his body, every emotion sharpened to a painful edge, affirmed the truth.


    Homeland? Home? Who was he now?


    Tears fell silently from his eyes. A mix of rage, pain, loss¡ªand something else he couldn¡¯t name. Maybe it was a longing for something he never knew he was missing. Or maybe¡­ it was the fear that his life on Earth had never really been his.


    It all felt like one giant, cruel joke.


    The physical pain that had ravaged Astar¡¯s body began to subside, and the flame finally drifted away. It felt as if the searing needles piercing every cell of his being had finally withdrawn, leaving only a faint tingling behind. He still felt weak, but alongside that weakness came a strange relief¡ªlike the entire experience had somehow purified him.


    The memories, fragments of visions, images of the man who had wielded streams of dark violet energy¡ªthose too began to fade. They receded into the shadows of his mind, falling into the background until they were nothing more than hazy silhouettes. But not all was lost. A piece of that knowledge remained, firmly embedded in his consciousness.


    The conclusion was simple and merciless: from the flood of information that had overwhelmed him, only a few things had stayed with him. Scraps of understanding about memoria, its essence, the soul¡¯s connection to the Source of Memoria, and the concept of Ancestral Memory.


    But most importantly¡ªthe tablet beside him had finally taken its complete form.


    ¡°Corruption Devouring Technique,¡± Astar murmured, suddenly aware that this was the only thing he remembered clearly about it.


    He also knew that to unlock the technique, he would have to activate the tablet. The only problem was¡­ he lacked the foundational knowledge of this world to truly grasp what that even meant.


    "What does this technique actually do? And why would I need it?" He clutched the tablet in his hand, feeling a strange warmth pulse through his body. Questions swirled in his mind, but no answers came.


    He recalled the way the dark flame had drifted toward him. It hadn¡¯t been hostile. On the contrary, it had seemed to offer something¡ªsomething Astar was meant to receive. As if their souls, their natures, had recognized something familiar in each other, despite the chasm of life and death between them. That sensation of belonging¡­ it terrified him more than anything.


    ¡°I was born here,¡± he whispered¡ªand the words rang like a hammer striking an anvil.


    The realization was terrifying¡ªbut inescapable. Knowledge burst like sparks in his mind, undeniable truths come alive: §®emoria, Source of Memoria, Ancestral Memory, the spiritual imprint of lineage...


    ¡°And what the hell am I supposed to do now?!¡± he shouted into the void. ¡°Then where the hell are my parents?! My entire damn bloodline?! How did they even send me to another world where I wasted my whole life working for nothing?! Are you kidding me?!¡±


    ¡°Shit! I¡¯d rather be lying on a beach right now, wrapped around some gorgeous girl! To hell with a calling¡ªI was at least comfortable!¡± Rage and bitter frustration boiled inside Astar. Everything he had done, everything he had built and taken pride in, had just been smashed and flipped on its head.


    Then he remembered it again¡ªthose final words he¡¯d heard before leaving Earth. He had heard them clearly: ¡°Forgive me, son¡­¡± The memory only added fuel to his fury.


    Astar was ready to scream again, to release the storm inside him¡ªbut then he noticed something. The space around him¡ªthe Source of Memoria¡ªwas beginning to change. The black-blue void, dotted with flickering lights, trembled as if struck by invisible waves. Its borders began to blur, becoming translucent, as though reality was slipping through his fingers.


    ¡°No... what¡¯s happening?¡± he whispered, glancing around.


    The lights that had once surrounded him with warmth and a strange sense of belonging began to vanish, one by one. They evaporated like drops of water on a hot surface, leaving behind only faint trails of light. The space around him flattened, losing its depth, turning into a faceless, hollow void.


    Astar reached toward the nearest spark, his hand trembling.


    ¡°Wait!¡± he cried out¡ªbut the words came out muffled, as if the air itself had thickened and swallowed the sound.


    The last remnants of the Source of Memoria began dissolving rapidly, and before Astar could even process what was happening, an invisible force gripped him. The sensation was unpleasant¡ªlike being yanked somewhere against his will. His body grew heavy, and his consciousness sank back into a thick, murky fog.


    He screamed¡ªbut not even he could hear the sound. His body plunged through an unseen membrane, and then came the drop¡ªa sharp fall that lasted only a heartbeat.


    And suddenly, he jolted awake.


    ¡°Kgah!¡± he gasped, feeling a chill surge through him.


    His eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath. His heart pounded in his chest, his head spinning. The flickering lights were gone. The mysterious realm had vanished. Instead, he was met by the familiar, hateful reality.


    He was lying on the filthy, damp floor of his prison cell. The stench of rotting flesh, spoiled food, and human sweat assaulted his nostrils, nearly triggering his gag reflex.


    But before he could speak, Dalanar¡ªsitting nearby¡ªgawked at him with wide, stunned eyes and pointed at him in shock. And then, something truly strange happened.


    Astar understood his words.


    ¡°What the hell¡­ Fool, did you just break through to the stage of Premarch?! How the hell did you manage that in a pit like this? Did they forget to sever your link to the Source of Memoria?!¡±


    The words still sounded like another language¡ªbut somehow, Astar understood them perfectly. As if he¡¯d been fluent all his life.


    Hearing those words, Astar looked down at himself in shock¡­ At that moment, his body was radiating a faint, shimmering gray mist! And he wasn¡¯t the only one who saw it¡ªevery surrounding prisoner was staring at him in disbelief!

 Chapter 5 — Mnemarchs

    The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to filter into the cell, and there was no way to hide the anomaly in Astar¡¯s body. He stared in shock at himself¡ªhis body was emitting a faint, glowing gray mist. And it wasn¡¯t just him who saw it. Every nearby prisoner had turned to gape at him in disbelief.


    He looked down at his glowing skin, then up at Dalanar, who stood frozen, as if expecting something extraordinary.


    ¡°Shit¡­ a Premarch, for real¡­¡± Dalanar muttered, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Did no one scan you before sending you to the mines?¡± he asked again, suspiciously.


    Astar opened his mouth to respond¡ªbut his thoughts tangled. The words tumbled out on their own, but not in the language he knew. It was the language he¡¯d heard all throughout the mines, but had never once spoken.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± he said hoarsely, the unfamiliar tongue flowing naturally. A wave of shock and confusion surged within him.


    Dalanar narrowed his gaze further, as though trying to catch a lie.


    ¡°You were faking this whole time?¡± he asked sharply, his voice dropping into something low and irritated. ¡°You understood me all along and just played the fool?!¡±


    ¡°No, I¡­¡± Astar instinctively touched his throat, panic rising. In that moment, the most believable explanation struck him¡ªamnesia. Focusing, he began to explain, carefully choosing his words.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t remember anything. Not the language, not my past. Just now¡­¡±


    He hesitated, trying to phrase it right.


    ¡°Just now, I remembered how to speak. After what happened to me¡­ a moment ago. I was in some strange place, not in this reeking cell¡­¡±


    He trailed off, still reeling from the confusion.


    Dalanar looked him over skeptically. The tension in his posture remained, but something in his eyes flickered¡ªrecognition, perhaps.


    ¡°Lost your memory? Forgot even the language?¡± he muttered, almost to himself.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Astar nodded, doing his best to appear sincere. In his mind, he reminded himself that this was the only explanation that could be accepted.


    Dalanar squinted, then said with a mix of caution and reluctant relief, ¡°Alright¡­¡±


    Astar nodded again.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I¡¯m just as shocked,¡± he added, his hands still slightly trembling.


    For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the soft rustle of movement in the cell.


    Then, Dalanar suddenly turned toward the other prisoners, his presence shifting into something sharp and commanding. His gaze scorched across the room.


    ¡°Not a word of this gets out! Not one breath about the Fool breaking through!¡± he growled, his voice low and menacing. ¡°If anyone talks¡ªI¡¯ll tear their fucking throat out myself.¡±


    The cell fell into a tense, frozen stillness. Fear thickened the air like smoke. One of the prisoners¡ªa lizard-like humanoid with sharp, angular features¡ªtook a step back, then suddenly, as if triggered, let out a piercing scream.


    ¡°GUARDS! THERE¡¯S A PREM¡ª¡±


    His cry was cut short.


    The nearby prisoners, horror and fury etched on their faces, lunged at him, shoving filthy hands over his mouth, as if trying to smother the betrayal before it reached the world outside.


    ¡°Shuv!¡± Dalanar launched himself forward like a predator. In a single, fluid motion, he leapt at the lizard-man, his hand flashing toward the traitor¡¯s throat.


    With brutal precision, Dalanar struck him in the larynx. A sickening crunch rang out¡ªa wet, bone-snapping sound that made Astar¡¯s blood run cold. The scream dissolved into a gurgling, rasping gasp. The traitor¡¯s eyes bulged as he dropped to his knees, grasping for air that wouldn¡¯t come. Blood sprayed from his mouth, painting the floor and nearby prisoners with red and green.


    The body twitched, then collapsed forward with a loud thud. A dark pool spread beneath it¡ªthick and glistening.


    Astar instinctively turned away, fighting a wave of nausea. The foul stench of the cell, now mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood, seared his throat. His hands trembled as he clamped them over his mouth, willing himself not to make a sound.


    ¡°Anyone who dares screw with my plans¡­ will share his fate,¡± Dalanar said coldly. His voice was a whisper of ice, steeped in threat. He straightened, wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, and turned toward the rest of the prisoners.


    ¡°If you want to live,¡± he continued, his eyes glinting, ¡°you¡¯ll forget what just happened. Forget the Fool¡¯s breakthrough. Otherwise¡­¡± He jerked his chin toward the bloodied corpse.


    The prisoners, as if under a spell, hastily nodded. Their faces reflected a mix of horror and submission.


    Astar could barely keep his stomach down¡ªhis insides churned with revulsion at the gruesome scene¡ªbut he swallowed the weakness, gritting his teeth. Only one thought echoed in his mind: ¡°Survive. At any cost. No matter the madness around me.¡±


    Dalanar, as if nothing had happened, calmly wiped his hands on the filthy rags covering his body and crouched beside Astar. His gaze had returned to that calm, penetrating stare¡ªthe kind a beast gives when it¡¯s sizing up prey or an opportunity. He leaned in slightly, as if examining a newly found advantage.


    ¡°Well then, talk to me, Fool. What clan are you from?¡± he asked, voice edged with insistence, though not without a note of sympathy. ¡°Since you¡¯re human, you were probably born in the northwest of the continent. I know plenty of human bloodlines and clans¡ªeven the minor ones. Maybe I¡¯ve heard of yours.¡±


    Astar slowly lifted his gaze, trying to fight off the nausea still clawing at his throat.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± he replied, doing his best to sound believable. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything. Not my past, not the present, not¡­ my clan. Honestly, I don¡¯t even understand where I am.¡±


    Dalanar frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.


    ¡°Nothing? Not even a hint?¡± he pressed, tilting his head.


    Astar shook his head.


    ¡°The only thing I can recall¡­ is memoria,¡± he said quietly, his voice rough, like someone just waking from a long coma. ¡°The Source of Memoria¡­ the Ancestral Memory. And some kind of strange technique.¡±


    ¡°Technique?¡± Dalanar perked up, his eyes glinting with predatory interest. ¡°What kind?¡±


    Astar hesitated. The memories of the technique were vague, broken, but one thing he remembered clearly was its name.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t even know what it does,¡± he admitted, choosing his words carefully. ¡°But it¡¯s called the Corruption Devouring Technique.¡±


    ¡°The Corruption Devouring Technique?¡± Dalanar echoed, squinting as if measuring the weight of the words. ¡°Interesting. I know most of the famous techniques created by human clans and bloodlines¡­ but I¡¯ve never heard of yours.¡±


    He leaned back, resting against the wall and crossing his arms, falling into thought.


    ¡°The name sounds grand. Maybe someone slapped a mighty title on something worthless,¡± he muttered.


    After a moment, he shook his head and added:


    ¡°Well, most likely your bloodline was insignificant, or the technique came from a lesser ancestor. Happens all the time¡ªnot everyone¡¯s lucky enough to connect with a powerful forefather. Ha!¡± he laughed, tilting his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter! What matters now is that you¡¯ve become a Premarch!¡±


    Astar didn¡¯t respond. He could feel Dalanar staring at him, as though trying to peer into the very core of his soul. For a moment, it seemed like the man could see more than he let on.


    And in that moment, flickers of memory sparked in Astar¡¯s mind¡ªfleeting, like lightning flashes¡ªimages of thousands bowing before a man with a scar across his face¡­ Given what he had seen, he was fairly certain that Dalanar¡¯s comment about a lesser ancestor didn¡¯t line up with reality.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand a damn thing¡­ but better to keep quiet,¡± Astar thought, slowly regaining his mental footing.


    ¡°Listen, Fool,¡± Dalanar said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of something warmer¡ªalmost friendly, something that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    ¡°I remembered my name,¡± Astar interrupted abruptly. ¡°Call me Astar. The nickname Fool doesn¡¯t really suit me.¡±


    Dalanar didn¡¯t object. He simply nodded with a look of understanding. He was brutal and direct, but not a lunatic who bullied without reason.


    ¡°So your name¡¯s Astar¡­¡± he murmured. ¡°Alright, Astar. We¡¯ve got interesting times ahead. And your past? Doesn¡¯t matter now. What matters is what you can do now. And I¡¯ll help you find out exactly what that is.¡± He smiled slightly¡ªbut it was the kind of smile that held more thrill than kindness.


    Astar simply nodded, keeping his thoughts hidden. All he could do now was hold his ground and hope to slowly learn more about this world. Now that he somehow understood the local language, he finally had the means to expand his view of the surrounding madness.


    Dalanar narrowed his eyes, as if weighing something important, then leaned in and began to speak softly¡ªjust loud enough for Astar to hear.


    "Since you¡¯ve become a Premarch, we¡¯ve got a much better chance of getting out of this shithole," Dalanar began, clenching his fingers as if he could already grasp that elusive freedom. "This mine? It¡¯s nowhere near a place of priority. There are no real memoria crystals here¡ªjust scraps of ore they squeeze crumbs from. There are hundreds of mines like this one, barely guarded."


    Astar listened, trying to stay calm even as tension coiled tighter inside him. Was he really talking about an escape? Madness.


    "There are three Gray Mnemarchs inside," Dalanar continued, emphasizing the weight of their rank. "They¡¯re serious opponents, but not invincible. If we create enough chaos, they won¡¯t be able to control the entire prison. And the guards¡ªthose at Warrior level¡ªwill be completely disoriented in the confusion."


    "Sounds like you¡¯ve been planning this for a long time¡­" Astar said cautiously, doing his best to keep his voice level.


    Thinking back, he realized how many times he¡¯d seen Dalanar quietly speaking with prisoners from other cells¡ªwhile eating, while working side by side.


    "More than a year," Dalanar smirked, eyes gleaming with resolve. "But the chances were slim. The people here are crushed and broken. Their strength isn¡¯t even a shadow of what it once was. Even if we made it outside, the abyssals would tear us apart. Or at least, they would have¡ªif not for your breakthrough. Ha!"


    Astar said nothing. The idea of escape seemed absurdly dangerous, but a part of his mind surged at the thought of freedom. He had spent his whole life working, grinding, taking risks just to achieve independence and a life of peace. Being a mine slave? That was never going to cut it.


    But there were still so many things he didn¡¯t understand¡­ And before he could ask, Dalanar pressed on:


    "We have a chance now. Your breakthrough¡ªthat¡¯s the signal to act," he said confidently, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "If we don¡¯t try now, there might not be another opportunity. I¡¯ve been preparing for this¡ªmapping weaknesses in patrols, analyzing shift routes, crafting a plan. But we lacked the power to push past the protective barrier. Now? We have it."


    "What if something goes wrong?" Astar asked, his voice faltering. He knew that in their position, any move was like leaping off a cliff blindfolded. Back on Earth, he¡¯d been brave. Here¡­ his mind was struggling to cope.


    "Then we die," Dalanar replied coldly with a shrug. "But is that worse than rotting here for the rest of your life?" He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You said you don¡¯t remember your past? Then forget this place too¡ªand start over. Show me what you¡¯re capable of."


    The words rang like a challenge¡ªone impossible to ignore.


    Astar exhaled slowly, fighting through the whirlwind in his head. Bits of thoughts, broken memories, and the chaos of this terrifying new world all clashed inside him. He looked up at Dalanar, who seemed ready to launch a rebellion at any moment.


    "Wait," Astar said, steadying his tone. "I need to understand¡­ my role. Who are the Gray Mnemarchs? What are these abyssals you mentioned? And this¡­ barrier¡ª"


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He paused, trying to find the right words so he didn¡¯t sound like a complete fool.


    "¡ªWhat kind of barrier do we have to get past?"


    Dalanar frowned, and for a moment, something like doubt flickered in his eyes.


    "Are you serious?" he asked, leaning back, studying Astar¡¯s face intently. "You don¡¯t remember even that?"


    "Nothing at all," Astar admitted, the tension rising again inside him. "All of this sounds like madness to me¡­ I don¡¯t even know what the world looks like outside these walls." He hesitated, then added, "Or where we even are."


    Dalanar straightened sharply, his face shifting into something between sympathy and gravity. He looked as though he was weighing how to explain the most basic truths.


    He sighed and closed his eyes briefly.


    "What do you know?" he asked, just to be sure.


    "That there¡¯s something called memoria in this world¡ªsome kind of energy or substance," Astar began, trying to piece together the fragments he''d been given. "That it comes from the Source of Memoria¡­ and that all living beings receive their soul from it. And after death, the soul returns to that source. And¡­ that descendants can gain parts of their ancestors¡¯ memories?"


    Hearing that, Dalanar exhaled heavily and started to speak again.


    "Alright, listen up. In this world, memoria is the foundation of everything. Almost all living things can use it, at least on a basic level. But there are those who can develop it¡ªfill their bodies and souls with it. When they reach a certain threshold, they become Mnemarchs."


    He paused, his voice tightening slightly.


    "Gray Mnemarchs are those who¡¯ve crossed the boundary of mortality¡­ the beginning of the Mnemarch¡¯s path."


    At that moment, something inside Astar shifted. Old instincts seemed to click into place. It felt like a problem had arisen in one of his marketing campaigns¡ªsomething he had to assess quickly, distill into the core issue, and fix. In moments like those, emotions were a hindrance. You had to be sharp, clear, decisive.


    And now, that part of his mind¡ªthe strategist, the survivor¡ªbegan to awaken.


    "Can you explain where you and I fall in the power hierarchy?" Astar asked clearly and directly.


    Even Dalanar looked mildly surprised at the shift¡ªbut it clearly pleased him, because he smiled and replied:


    "Alright, let¡¯s put it this way... At the bottom are all mortals who either use memoria only at a basic level, or don¡¯t use it at all. Above them are the Warriors, who can channel a bit more memoria to enhance small parts of their body. All our guards are basically that," he began, laying it all out in logical order. "Next comes a sort of intermediate stage¡ªthe one you¡¯ve just reached. Beings like you are called Premarchs¡ªthose who have gathered enough memoria to connect with the Source of Memoria and, if lucky, receive the memories of an ancestor. You went through a natural initiation. If you focus your attention on the space between your brows, you should be able to see your Soul Vault."


    Astar tensed. That definitely aligned with the sensations he¡¯d experienced before¡­


    "So not everyone receives ancestral memories? And how does the choice of ancestor happen?" he asked thoughtfully.


    "Usually only those with high potential can form a connection like that. I''d say about a third of all Premarchs succeed. As for how the ancestor is chosen... I believe it''s all about resonance¡ªthe character and essence of the ancestor and the successor have to be compatible. Then the connection forms."


    After thinking for a moment, Astar closed his eyes and followed the advice. Dalanar, clearly understanding the natural curiosity that came with awakening one¡¯s Soul Vault, fell silent.


    Within seconds, Astar¡¯s awareness drifted elsewhere. His consciousness opened to an inner space¡ªa realm of darkness pierced with gentle twinkles like distant stars. It resembled the Source of Memoria he''d seen before, but here the central focus was a swirling blue-white nebula. It spun like a miniature galaxy, wrapped in stillness and mystery. It was the vortex of memoria he had absorbed throughout his time in the mines.


    But the strangest part of this silent place was the black tablet floating nearby. Its surface was cold, matte, and emitted a faint vibration, as though the void itself pulsed with its rhythm. Strange glyphs were etched clearly into its surface¡ªglyphs Astar understood. They read:


    "Corruption Devouring Technique."


    ¡°Holy shit¡­ I really did receive that bizarre technique. And now it¡¯s just¡­ stuck in my head forever?¡± Astar thought, unsure how to even process it.


    ¡°They said I had to activate it¡­ but how?¡± he thought, guessing he needed to feed it memoria.


    At that moment, the swirling nebula near him responded, releasing a bright strand of white energy that floated toward the technique. But as soon as it touched the tablet, it let out a faint sizzle¡ªand nothing happened.


    "Guess that¡¯s not it..." he muttered to himself mentally. "Dammit, how do I get back to reality?"


    Instantly, glowing currents began to whirl around him, and the space wavered like water in the wind. The feeling of weightlessness shifted into a sudden drop¡ªand then a sharp jolt, like someone yanked him back into his body.


    Astar¡¯s eyes flew open. Light and sound flooded in as if a curtain had been ripped away. His consciousness slammed back into his physical form, leaving behind only the memory of that weightless state. Apparently, the process of entering and exiting the ¡°Soul Vault¡± wasn¡¯t all that difficult¡ªit seemed tied directly to his will.


    "Shall we continue?" Dalanar asked with a grin.


    Astar didn¡¯t reply¡ªhe just nodded.


    "I used to be a Premarch too," Dalanar went on. "But when I was captured, my link to the Source of Memoria was severed. Now I¡¯m more on the level of a Warrior. To regain my strength, I¡¯ll need to escape first¡ªthen spend a long time recovering."


    "Premarchs are far stronger than regular Warriors," he continued. "They can infuse memoria into their entire body. More than that, a small amount even begins to leak out of them."


    "By building up memoria and using Memoria-Cultivation Techniques, Premarchs begin forming a core within their Soul Vault. When that happens, even more memoria starts to flow outward. You can start attacking from a distance," he added, gesturing animatedly to demonstrate. "That core becomes the foundation for further growth. That¡¯s when one becomes a Mnemarch. The weakest of them are called Gray Mnemarchs."


    "The weakest?" Astar echoed.


    "Of course. Gray Mnemarch is the start of the path beyond mortal limits. After them come the Blue Mnemarchs, then the Violet Mnemarchs," he rattled off. "There are two more stages after that, but those are closer to legend¡ªwe don¡¯t even bother talking about them..."


    Upon hearing all this, Astar¡¯s head was spinning. He didn¡¯t understand much, but he could clearly feel something inside him had changed¡ªand those changes felt... incredible. And now he was being told that there were things in this strange world even more wondrous?


    "Can you explain the limits of my power and the power of the Mnemarchs more clearly? I don¡¯t quite understand what they¡¯re capable of¡­" Astar murmured thoughtfully.


    Dalanar answered with a strange counter-question:


    "Do you remember what a city is?"


    Laser-focused on the conversation, Astar didn¡¯t falter.


    "I think I do... It¡¯s a place where many beings live together, not trapped like we are now. There are streets and houses¡­" he mumbled, piecing it together.


    "Right. I asked to see if you¡¯d understand my examples," Dalanar said with a smirk. "At your current level, you can probably tear through the metal bars of this cell, break through a wall, or smash down a tree. Now, as for Gray Mnemarchs¡ªtheir attacks can affect a wider area. Using combat techniques and external manipulation of memoria, they can easily level a small house. And Blue Mnemarchs? They could tear down several houses at once¡ªor flatten an entire city block."


    Hearing this, Astar shook his head in disbelief. Everything Dalanar said sounded like fantasy. According to him, the power of a Blue Mnemarch equaled a massive explosion capable of destroying multiple buildings. Astar couldn¡¯t even imagine what that would look like, or if it was real at all. But for some reason, something within him stirred¡ªan interest, even a flicker of excitement.


    ¡°If I¡¯d grown up in this world¡­ maybe the path of a Mnemarch would¡¯ve tempted me,¡± he thought, surprisingly.


    It seemed Dalanar had no intention of describing the higher stages of Mnemarchs¡ªbut based on how the power scaled, Astar wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to imagine it anyway.


    "Now about the abyssals," Dalanar continued, his face darkening. "They¡¯re creatures born of abyssia¡ªa substance that¡¯s the opposite of memoria. No one knows where it came from or why it¡¯s slowly consuming entire regions of the continent. But the creatures it spawns¡­ they¡¯re pure nightmare. Mindlessly cruel. They kill anything that moves¡ªso they can devour its power, and with it, its soul."


    "They¡¯re everywhere¡ªbut they don¡¯t come inside cities, or places like this mine. Because they¡¯re held back by memoria barriers. And the second we escape¡­ we¡¯re going to face them."


    "Wait," Astar interrupted, frowning. "Outside the barrier? So we¡¯re under¡­ some kind of dome?"


    "Exactly," Dalanar nodded. "A barrier made of memoria protects us from abyssals. It¡¯s maintained by sacred structures called Temples of Memoria. Each temple is created and maintained by the Church of Memoria, and they require constant resources. Without them, the world would fall into chaos. But to escape¡­ we¡¯ll have to step outside that protection. And out there¡ª" he pointed at Astar, "you¡¯re our best shot. All we need to do is reach the nearest city and its barrier."


    Astar tried to digest all he had just heard. His head throbbed from all the new terms and the terrifying descriptions.


    "And you¡¯re sure this will work?" he finally asked, his voice laced with more skepticism than belief.


    Dalanar leaned in closer, his expression growing solemn.


    "I know this much: either we try, or we rot here. You choose which sounds better," he said, then added after a pause, "The path from this mine to the nearest city is classified as only third-level danger. There shouldn¡¯t be any abyssals stronger than a Premarch."


    Astar gave a silent nod. One thought pounded in his mind: ¡°A choice? What choice? I want my freedom!¡±


    He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of information. His mind, trained to break problems into parts and find solutions, began compressing the chaos into manageable clusters. ¡°Memoria. The Source of Memoria. Ancestral Memory. Mnemarchs. Temples. Barriers. Abyssals. Escape plan¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­ Maybe it¡¯ll help to think of this in medieval terms. Though I don¡¯t even know what this world really looks like. Doesn¡¯t seem anything like modern Earth¡­¡± he reasoned inwardly, trying to find logical footholds.


    He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes¡ªand met Dalanar¡¯s steady gaze.


    "Let¡¯s say I agree," he began, trying to keep his tone even. "We escape, we reach the nearest city. But we¡¯re prisoners. What¡¯s to stop the city¡¯s authorities from locking us up¡ªor worse, executing us on sight?"


    Dalanar chuckled, as if he¡¯d expected that question. His expression softened slightly, though his grin still had a predatory edge.


    "A good question, Astar," he admitted, scooting in a little. "But that¡¯s where you can rely on me. You see, I wasn¡¯t always just some stray prisoner. I used to lead a small, dangerous crew. We hunted weak abyssals and sold their cores. Sometimes¡­ we took on less savory jobs too, if the coin was good¡­ That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here, ha-ha. In any case, I¡¯ve been expected in the nearest city for a long time now. My people are waiting for their leader to return."


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± Astar frowned. ¡°It¡¯s been what, a year?¡±


    ¡°A year and three months,¡± Dalanar replied easily. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m sure. My people know what loyalty means. We were planning a big job when I got captured. But I left very specific instructions in case something went wrong. They were to go underground, lay low, and watch. As soon as we reach the city¡¯s outskirts, they¡¯ll be there. And they won¡¯t just greet us. They¡¯ll give us clothes, hide us, and help us disappear.¡±


    Astar felt a bit of tension ease in his chest. Dalanar¡¯s plan sounded wildly risky¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t senseless. Still, doubts lingered inside him.


    ¡°What¡¯s to stop them from turning us in to the authorities for a reward?¡± he asked, closely watching Dalanar¡¯s reaction.


    Dalanar¡¯s grin widened, turning almost sinister.


    ¡°That thought¡¯s never crossed their minds. They know I keep my word. And they know I don¡¯t forgive betrayal. If they ever planned something like that, they¡¯d already be rotting in some nameless ditch.¡±


    His tone was calm, but the icy conviction in his voice made Astar shiver. Instinctively, he glanced toward the corpse slumped in the corner of the cell¡ªthe one Dalanar had killed without blinking. The expression of terror frozen on the man¡¯s face said it all¡­


    ¡°Alright,¡± Astar said after a pause. ¡°Let¡¯s say your people do help us. Then what? We just hide?¡±


    ¡°At first, yes,¡± Dalanar nodded. ¡°We lay low, gather resources, recover our strength. After that¡­ we¡¯ll see. Since you don¡¯t remember anything, you could join my group, Astar. We¡¯ll make some coin, and then slip off to another city¡ªsomewhere no one knows us. But for now, survival is the only priority.¡±


    Astar gave a silent nod. His mind kept racing. If they escaped¡­ if the group actually existed¡­ if the path to the city wasn¡¯t too dangerous¡­ if the abyssals didn¡¯t attack¡ª


    Too many ifs. But something deep in his gut told him the risk was worth it. Truthfully, he had no other choice.


    Astar frowned, sorting through scenarios in his head. It all sounded like madness¡ªbarriers, abyssals, people waiting for them beyond the city¡¯s edge. But what worried him most was what would happen if the plan failed.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± he said cautiously. ¡°But what if the abyssals do attack? I¡­ I don¡¯t remember how to fight,¡± he admitted, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he felt completely helpless inside. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to do in a situation like that.¡±


    Dalanar let out a dry snort, but there was no cruelty in his gaze.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not exactly great news,¡± he said, scratching his chin, ¡°but it¡¯s not the end of the world either. Listen, Astar, we don¡¯t need you for finesse or clever tactics. If the abyssals show up, your job¡¯s simple¡ªbreak through their defense and kill. We¡¯ll distract them, and you just hit as hard as you can. Ideally¡ªwith a pickaxe, right in the skull.¡±


    ¡°A pickaxe?¡± Astar repeated in disbelief. The image Dalanar painted seemed absurd.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Dalanar nodded. ¡°Abyssals have tough bodies, but as a Premarch, your strength far surpasses a mortal¡¯s. For us, a pickaxe is the best weapon we¡¯ve got¡ªunless we manage to steal swords from the guards. The key is, don¡¯t hesitate. One strike to the head or neck, and most low-tier creatures will die.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t?¡± Astar asked flatly, his questions opening the door to ever more horrors.


    ¡°Then you hit them again,¡± Dalanar said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°But you¡¯ll be surprised by what you can do now.¡± He leaned in, his expression serious. ¡°A Premarch¡¯s strike is no joke. You¡¯ll smash their skulls faster than you can realize what you¡¯ve done. So don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll handle the distraction¡ªyou just focus on delivering the blow.¡±


    Astar stayed silent, absorbing it all. Every part of him wanted to reject this insane plan¡ªbut his rational mind knew there was no alternative.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget,¡± Dalanar added with a sly grin, ¡°if anything goes wrong, I¡¯ll be right there watching. I won¡¯t let you screw up our one shot at freedom. On the contrary¡ªyou¡¯re our golden ticket out of this hell.¡±


    The words were a strange mix of threat and encouragement, but Astar simply nodded. All he could do now was hope he truly could pull it off.


    He nodded again, forcing himself to commit. He understood that his decision didn¡¯t just affect his own life¡ªit carried the hopes of the other prisoners too. Despite the danger, Dalanar¡¯s plan was the only light in the madness surrounding him.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    Dalanar nodded with clear satisfaction, as if that was exactly what he¡¯d been waiting to hear.


    ¡°Good, Astar,¡± he said, then added with a faint smile, ¡°but for now, keep acting like before. Play the mute fool. If you suddenly start spouting clever thoughts, the guards will start asking questions¡ªand that¡¯s the last thing we need.¡±


    Astar nodded once more. Now that he could understand the local language, playing the fool felt somewhat humiliating¡ªbut he understood that maintaining his cover was far more important.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget to keep sucking on those rocks,¡± Dalanar added with a smirk. ¡°Everyone¡¯s already too used to your weird little routine, ha-ha.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Astar replied dryly, forcing himself to return to that blissfully vacant expression.


    Dalanar straightened up, his face turning serious.


    ¡°Since things are heating up,¡± he said, glancing around the cell, ¡°I¡¯m going to accelerate the plan. I need to contact the other cells. We already have a few arrangements in place, but there hasn¡¯t been a good moment¡ªuntil now. When everything¡¯s ready, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    Astar noticed Dalanar¡¯s voice grow quieter, and his eyes scanned the room, gauging the mood of the others.


    ¡°The lizard was new¡ªhe didn¡¯t know anything. But everyone else in this cell is in on it. So remember,¡± he continued, ¡°if any outsider starts getting suspicious, we¡¯re finished. Don¡¯t draw attention to yourself.¡±


    Astar nodded a third time, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. He tried to calm himself, reminding his mind that this was just another task to complete. Only this time, the stakes were life and death¡ªhe had never gambled everything like this before. This time, the cost of failure was far too high to take lightly.

 Chapter 6 — The Escape

    The next day, Astar, keeping calm just as Dalanar had instructed, made his way to the mines. He played his role to perfection¡ªhis face wore the same vacant indifference, he muttered incomprehensibly as if trying to recall something, and lazily sucked on a rock he¡¯d picked up on the way to the communal shaft, maintaining the persona everyone had grown used to.


    When he first picked up the pickaxe, it felt lighter than usual. But he dismissed it, chalking it up to his effort not to draw attention. However, the moment he struck the rock wall, he froze in shock.


    BAAM!


    A thunderous crash erupted, so loud that several nearby prisoners instinctively looked up. The chunk of stone before Astar didn¡¯t just crack¡ªit exploded into fragments, scattering shrapnel across him and those nearby.


    He stared at the shattered debris in disbelief. His breathing quickened, but he forced himself to suppress the shock. Around him, startled whispers began to stir.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡±


    ¡°What did he just do?¡±


    ¡°Quiet,¡± one of the inmates hissed sharply¡ªone who knew of Dalanar¡¯s plan. His eyes met Astar¡¯s, and he gave a subtle nod, urging him to continue as if nothing had happened.


    Astar wrestled back control over his emotions and acted like everything was fine. He raised the pickaxe again, though inside, his mind was screaming in a mix of awe and fear.


    ¡°What the hell is this?! Can a person really be this strong?¡± he thought, struggling to keep his face calm. ¡°Is this the strength of a Premarch that Dalanar talked about yesterday? It¡¯s absurd¡­ Can I get even stronger? No¡ªthis isn¡¯t the time...¡±


    The next strike was more cautious, but even then, the rock split apart as if it were brittle glass. This time, Astar could feel the power coursing through him, filling him with a deep sense of control. His muscles moved with fluid precision, like a perfectly calibrated machine, and the effort he applied felt almost effortless.


    ¡°Dalanar was right. This¡­ this is more than I ever imagined. I really could punch through a wall if I wanted. Were there even people on Earth with this kind of physical strength? It¡¯s not just about the force of the blow¡ªbut the resilience of the body¡­ Before, hard hits would tear my skin and rattle my bones. But now...¡±


    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few other prisoners still casting stunned glances his way, though most had returned to work. Realizing the guards hadn¡¯t noticed anything, Astar clenched his jaw and forced himself to work at his usual pace, carefully measuring the force of each swing.


    ¡°So¡­ am I still human? Or a human with supernatural strength?¡± he wondered. ¡°But what is this strength? And how does it even work? If I survive this escape, I have to figure it out... And more importantly, it¡¯s likely that everything happening is directly tied to my parents...¡± he thought, unconsciously tightening his grip on the pickaxe.


    The day before had brought a storm of revelations, and he hadn¡¯t been able to sleep at all. He¡¯d spent the night thinking about himself, about the situation, and above all¡ªabout his origins. No matter how much he tried to resist the thought, the childhood pain still lingered deep inside. And now, with the growing possibility that his parents had been something other than what he believed all his life¡­ something inside him had cracked.


    ¡°Should I really dig into that?¡± he wondered, as if trying to convince himself that he didn¡¯t want to know anything about them.


    The very next moment, he shook his head and mentally snapped at himself: "Astar, what the hell are you even thinking right now?! First, we survive¡ªthen we worry about my useless parents!"


    He glanced at Dalanar from the corner of his eye. The man was watching him from a distance, gave a slight nod, and even allowed the hint of a smile to surface, as if to say, ¡°You¡¯re doing well.¡±


    Astar went back to digging, but there was a new fire burning inside him. The power now coursing through his body gave him hope that he might actually escape this hell. The rest could come later. He knew well: "Until the immediate crisis is resolved, there''s no point thinking about the storms beyond. Everything must be dealt with step by step."


    For the next two weeks, Astar stuck to his routine religiously, careful not to draw attention. He dug for crystals, sucked on tiny fragments found in the discarded rubble, and maintained the same empty, vacant look on his face. Every movement was calculated, every glance measured. He knew full well that even the smallest mistake could unravel Dalanar¡¯s meticulously constructed plan.


    Whole crystals, though tempting, remained untouched. Astar understood: if he tried to steal even one, it would endanger not just him, but everyone involved.


    "Hold yourself together," he reminded himself every time a glimmer of a chance presented itself. "Freedom matters more than anything. Your goal isn¡¯t the crystals. It¡¯s getting out of here."


    Still, his thoughts weren¡¯t consumed by survival alone. In rare moments of solitude, he tried to figure out how to activate the Corruption Devouring Technique he had inherited from that mysterious ancestor. The knowledge came to him like scattered puzzle pieces¡ªnever quite forming a full picture.


    Through careful, cautious conversations with Dalanar, he gathered that the technique needed to be infused with memoria. But no matter how many times he tried, something always felt off. It was as if the technique refused to yield to him.


    "How the hell do I activate this cursed thing?" he wondered, sitting on the damp floor of the cell. But no answer ever came.


    The only thing he could clearly feel was the memoria itself, flowing through his body like warm currents. Astar suspected it was accumulating in his Soul Vault, slowly condensing toward the formation of a core. But according to Dalanar, without a technique to guide the process, doing so was nearly impossible. A proper technique could channel the collected memoria in the right direction, triggering transformation.


    "I need more time," he thought. "And maybe someone out there who can explain how all this actually works. After all, Dalanar never made it past the Premarch stage¡ªhe was like me..."


    At one point, Astar even considered experimenting on his own, trying to develop a method to concentrate and form the core manually. After all, there had to be some logic to the process. But he abandoned the idea almost immediately¡ªwhat if he screwed it up and lost the ability to cultivate the Devouring Blight Technique properly?


    Truthfully, in this strange world, that technique was his only real asset¡ªthe one tool he had for building a future. Whatever the situation, Astar had begun to realize that he now stood a step above common mortals. And that meant one thing: with determination and discipline, he could carve out freedom and prosperity for himself, even in a world gone mad.


    Much as he hoped otherwise, he was starting to accept that he couldn¡¯t return to Earth. That realization was slowly cementing itself in his mind. He could still hear the strange voice from the day he was transported into this world:


    "The power of the Multiversal Book of Memoria has been exhausted. You can no longer remain safe... Forgive us, son. We hope you¡¯ll uncover the truth¡­"


    "Whatever that Book is¡­ Maybe it¡¯s what brought me to Earth. And if that voice really was my father," he thought bitterly, "then all he did was warn me that the Book had run dry. So it held me there? Kept me hidden? Great¡­ does that mean I have to start from scratch all over again?"


    Each day, impatience stirred deeper within him, laced with a quiet unease. His mind brimmed with escape strategies, yes¡ªbut also questions, and no answers in sight. "What will I do after we break out? Join Dalanar¡¯s gang? Try to learn more about this world and trace my roots? Or maybe use the knowledge from Earth to build some quiet corner for myself and just live in peace?"


    But for now, every morning he rose, picked up his pickaxe, and went into the mines, keeping his calm. The labor gave him a break from the endless flood of questions, and the power that flowed through his veins became a quiet source of motivation. He could feel it: he was ready for anything¡ªthough he still didn¡¯t know what exactly lay ahead.


    At dawn one morning, when the air still clung with dampness and stone rot, Astar noticed Dalanar slipping toward him. His face was unusually serious, eyes flashing with resolve. Without a word of greeting, he leaned in and whispered:


    "Today. The revolt starts this shift."


    Astar felt his heart skip a beat. He nodded silently, doing his best not to show the sudden wave of tension rising inside him.


    "Listen carefully," Dalanar continued, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Once the chaos starts, stay close to me. We have a shared interest here: the longer you stay alive, the better my chances of making it out. You and I¡ªwe''re each other¡¯s best insurance."


    "Are you sure about the escape routes?" Astar asked, forcing his voice to remain calm, though a storm was raging inside him.


    "Yes," Dalanar replied curtly. "I¡¯ve studied the paths and weak points. There are several routes that can lead us out. But remember¡ªthere¡¯ll be multiple groups. Each one will try to slip away in their own direction. I can¡¯t vouch for the others, but if you stay with me, your chances of surviving go way up."


    Astar nodded, recognizing the logic.


    "And after that?" he asked.


    "After?" Dalanar smirked. "Then we cross the memoria barrier. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll be essential. The abyssals won¡¯t let us go that easily¡ªbut with you, we¡¯ve got a shot. After that, my people will be waiting. They¡¯ll help us disappear, give us clothes, shelter us until things quiet down."


    Astar exhaled slowly, realizing just how much lay ahead. The uprising, the guards, the abyssals¡­ and then the attempt to slip beyond a new barrier.


    "I understand," he said at last. "When do we start?"


    "As soon as the shift begins," Dalanar answered. "The overseers won¡¯t suspect a thing until the first strike. Be ready. And remember, stay close to me. This is about brains, not just brawn."


    He straightened, casting Astar a final, meaningful look before heading off to speak with others, clearly relaying the same plan. It seemed the uprising had the interest of many. Naturally, the other cells had their own leaders with slightly different visions of escape¡ªthat¡¯s why there would be multiple groups.


    Astar stayed where he was, absorbing what he¡¯d just heard. It was real now. No longer just plans and waiting, but action. His mind kicked into high gear, breaking down the coming chaos into stages, anticipating problems before they happened. "Stay with Dalanar," he reminded himself. "And be ready for anything."


    He clenched his fists, bracing for what could be either his last day alive¡­ or the first step toward freedom. A new freedom, in a world utterly alien and unknown.


    The day began as always: prisoners exiting their cells, taking their work positions, barked orders from the guards. Astar picked up his pickaxe and paused, uncertain, before heading to his designated zone. But this time, unnoticed by those around him, he shifted slowly closer to Dalanar, keeping a careful eye on everything.


    His heart pounded harder than usual, but he forced himself to appear relaxed. Just another broken slave. The mute fool. The role he¡¯d played for weeks now might be the very thing that saved his life.


    The mine buzzed with the rhythmic clang of pickaxes, murmured conversations, and the occasional mocking laugh from overseers who hurled insults at the prisoners. Astar could feel the tension in the air rising¡ªlike the stillness before a storm. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dalanar continuing to work with feigned laziness, clearly waiting for the signal.


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    Then the moment came. One of the overseers, chuckling at another crude joke, turned his back on a nearby group of prisoners.


    "Let¡¯s show these bastards!" someone screamed. "No more of this!"


    Suddenly, shouts erupted from across the mine. Work stopped. Metal screeched, pickaxes swung, and the prisoners lunged at their oppressors.


    "It¡¯s begun," Dalanar growled, nudging Astar with his elbow. "Stay close!"


    Chaos exploded through the mine. Groups of slaves, armed with pickaxes, stones, even broken wood, surged forward, shouting and flailing. The guards, caught off guard, tried to hold their ground, but there were too few of them. Reinforcements would come¡ªbut every overseer was only at the Warrior stage. It wouldn¡¯t take long for them to regain control.


    The window of opportunity was narrow. They had to move fast.


    Astar stuck close to Dalanar, who navigated through the pandemonium with sharp confidence¡ªuntil something made Astar freeze in place. From a distant corridor, three men emerged in full armor, holding spears. Their presence radiated strength and certainty, and their bodies were wreathed in dense gray mist¡ªfar thicker than what Astar had ever seen around himself.


    It was memoria¡ªpouring out of them like a living force.


    "Gray Mnemarchs," Dalanar whispered, clutching Astar¡¯s shoulder. "That¡¯s them."


    Astar didn¡¯t even have time to react before the three men moved at once. One of them raised his hand, and the gray mist instantly shifted to a deep, dark blue. A shimmering vortex of energy burst from his palm, crashing into a group of prisoners within a five-meter radius¡ªhurling them against the stone walls with sickening crunches.


    The second Mnemarch clenched his fist, and his memoria flared into something that resembled fire. In an instant, his body was wreathed in flames that surged toward the nearest slaves, scorching their flesh as they screamed.


    The third moved faster than the eye could follow, dashing through the crowd like a blur, striking with each movement. Each blow was accompanied by flashes of light and thunderous cracks. His memoria had turned pure white¡­


    It seemed that memoria only initially revealed a Mnemarch¡¯s development stage¡ªonce a technique was activated, its appearance and attributes changed.


    "How are they doing that¡­" Astar whispered in shock, watching the chaos unfold. "That¡¯s¡­ unbelievable."


    "Welcome to reality," Dalanar snapped, pulling him from his trance. "We have to move while they¡¯re distracted with the crowd. If they focus on us, we¡¯re dead. And remember, Astar¡ªyour strength is the key. You can¡¯t take on the Gray Mnemarchs, but you can help deal with the overseers. Just don¡¯t get reckless. Got it?"


    Astar nodded, gritting his teeth. He could feel adrenaline flooding his veins, his muscles tensing, his senses sharpening. Every movement now carried weight.


    He and Dalanar, using the riot as cover, dashed toward one of the mine¡¯s inner corridors¡ªa route always forbidden to the slaves. It was guarded tightly, the overseers coming and going from it as if guarding something vital.


    About thirty more prisoners joined them in the rush. The expressions of those around him¡ªhuman and nonhuman alike¡ªwere a mix of fear and grim resolve. They all knew what was at stake.


    Screams and the clamor of battle filled the cavern, growing louder with every step. Overseers from across the mine were regrouping and ruthlessly crushing the uprising. Their strikes were brutal and precise, their armor shrugging off the weak blows from pickaxes. Blood now stained the stone walls, and the sound of combat drowned out all but one''s own thoughts.


    "Move!" Dalanar shouted, barely dodging chunks of flying debris. "If we slow down, we¡¯ll be trampled like the rest!"


    Astar pushed himself forward, jaw clenched. He tried not to look back¡ªbut out of the corner of his eye, he saw overseers and Gray Mnemarchs systematically crushing the resistance. Colored gales and magical flares tore through the crowd like a storm of chaos.


    At last, they broke into the corridor. The roar of the mine dulled behind them, replaced by the echo of their urgent footfalls. Astar felt fear recede slightly, only to be replaced by a thick tension coiling in his gut.


    "Faster!" someone shouted nearby.


    But less than a minute later, their path was blocked.


    Three armored men stood ahead, swords drawn, glinting in the torchlight. They all bore the same features¡ªred skin, and horns jutting from their foreheads. Same race. Same threat.


    "Dead men," one of them said coldly, then raised his blade. "No one escapes the mine."


    His words sounded like a sentence. But the prisoners didn¡¯t stop.


    With screams of rage, the rebels surged forward, pickaxes held high. Metal rang out. Blow after blow. Some fell instantly. Others fought with desperate fury.


    "Astar!" Dalanar roared, turning back. "Don¡¯t just stand there¡ªhit them!"


    "How?!" Astar shouted, frozen, fear gripping his limbs.


    "With everything you¡¯ve got! Hit them with the damn pickaxe! You¡¯re stronger than they are¡ªuse it!"


    Astar held his breath and gripped the pick tighter. He charged, legs driven by adrenaline. One of the guards was fending off several prisoners when an exchange knocked his sword high into the air¡ªleaving his chest exposed.


    "Screw it! Just hit!" Astar screamed in his head, pouring all his courage into motion.


    He swung. The pickaxe, as if guided by some unseen force, slammed into the guard¡¯s armor.


    BAAM!


    The sickening crunch echoed in the corridor as the metal caved like foil. The guard howled in pain and flew backward, crashing into another man and sending both to the ground.


    "Again!" Dalanar shouted, locking blades with the third guard. "Finish him!"


    Astar stood frozen, staring at his weapon, stunned at what he¡¯d just done. His blow had pierced reinforced armor with ease. The guard¡¯s chest had caved inward¡ªhis ribs audibly shattered.


    Nausea surged. "I¡­ I actually did that? How is this even possible?" he thought, legs trembling.


    "Astar, damn it!" Dalanar bellowed, hearing more guards rushing from deeper within the tunnels. "Don¡¯t freeze¡ªhit him!"


    Astar¡¯s eyes shifted to the last guard, who was staggering, off-balance.


    Hit, a voice inside him urged. "If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll die."


    Something inside flipped like a switch. Astar charged.


    He raised the pickaxe again, every muscle straining. His eyes flickered with a faint gray glow, and a subtle mist formed around his body.


    Everything in him screamed against it¡ªbut he threw the strike with all his strength. The pickaxe howled through the air and slammed into the guard¡¯s head.


    The sound that followed was unforgettable¡ªa crack of bone and a wet squelch, like raw meat crushed in a fist.


    "Crunch! Shhuuv!" the guard¡¯s head quite literally exploded, spraying blood across the walls and floor of the cavern. Bone fragments and chunks of flesh scattered in every direction, splattering the nearest prisoners.


    Astar froze, still clutching the pickaxe¡¯s handle. For a few breathless moments, everything around him fell silent¡ªas if the entire world paused to await his reaction. He stood there, unable to believe what he¡¯d done, and then suddenly dropped to his knees.


    "Buueh¡­" A strangled moan escaped his throat. He couldn¡¯t hold back the nausea. His body convulsed, and the contents of his stomach spilled onto the ground. In his mind¡¯s eye, the image of the shattered skull refused to fade.


    "Get up, idiot!" Dalanar grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him upright. "We don¡¯t have time for weakness! You wanna live or die in this pit? Make up your damn mind!"


    Shaking, Astar rose to his feet, trying to purge the horror from his mind. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to take a step. Then another.


    "I¡­ I can do it," he muttered, gripping the pickaxe so hard his knuckles went white.


    "That¡¯s more like it," Dalanar growled, giving a brutal kick to a fallen comrade who clearly wasn¡¯t getting up¡ªhis injuries were too severe. "I need you alive, Astar! If you die, who the hell is going to kill the abyssals?"


    Without giving himself room to think, Astar clenched his jaw and followed the others pushing deeper into the passageway. Blood, chaos, and terror surrounded him, and the memory of what he¡¯d just done branded itself into his mind.


    Everything that followed became a blur. His consciousness, rattled by trauma, slipped into a kind of haze, leaving only instinct behind. He followed Dalanar¡¯s commands, ran where he was told, struck when needed. Every new enemy they encountered met the same fate. Astar didn¡¯t think. He didn¡¯t feel. He just acted.


    His pickaxe splintered under the sheer force of his blows. One guard, then another, then another¡­ He kept switching weapons, picking them up from the floor or from fallen allies. Over time, the remaining prisoners armed themselves with scavenged swords. They fought side by side, cutting their way forward. With each clash, the path grew clearer¡ªbut the sights around them only grew more gruesome.


    Screams of agony, metal on stone, the blinding flashes of overseers¡¯ techniques¡ªit all blended into a single roar. Astar could barely make out the faces of those still fighting. His mind refused to absorb the reality, as if shielding itself from madness.


    At some point, he realized their numbers had dwindled. Many had fallen beneath the guards¡¯ blows. But those who remained pressed on. Dalanar stayed at his side, his voice an anchor pulling Astar back toward awareness.


    "Faster! We¡¯re almost outside!" he shouted, beheading one of the guards with a brutal slash. Even now, Dalanar still possessed the power of a Warrior, and his battle instincts were razor-sharp.


    And then, as if the entire world changed, a brilliant light flared ahead. Astar¡¯s eyes, long adjusted to the mine¡¯s gloom, were momentarily blinded. He stopped in his tracks, stunned, as the first rays of daylight touched his face. He stood there, forgetting everything.


    For the first time since arriving in this world, he saw the light of the outside¡ªnot the occasional beams that slipped into the mine, but full, glorious daylight. Fresh, cool air rushed into his lungs, sending shivers down his spine. The smell¡ªno rot, no piss, no damp decay.


    "Don¡¯t stop!" Dalanar barked, yanking him hard by the shoulder. "We¡¯re not safe yet¡ªrun!"


    The words jolted Astar from his trance. He took a deep breath, still trying to grasp what he saw, and dashed forward with the others.


    His eyes adjusted quickly to the light. It was as if the darkness that had clung to him for so long finally let go¡ªrevealing a world he could barely comprehend. As the group cleared the cave¡¯s edge and rounded a rocky outcrop, Astar froze again, struck speechless by the view.


    They were high on a mountain slope. Before him stretched a breathtaking landscape. Jagged peaks loomed in every direction, their bases swallowed by colossal forests. The treetops shimmered with hues of green and blue that Astar had never seen on Earth. Roads¡ªthin lines of movement¡ªwound through the woodlands like threads. Some of those paths glimmered faintly, as if lit by unseen torches.


    "This is¡­ unbelievable," he whispered, forgetting everything for a moment.


    But that wasn¡¯t what truly stunned him.


    What caught and held his gaze was the enormous, semi-transparent dome that covered the entire mountain. It shimmered in hues of white and blue, pulsing softly, as if breathing in rhythm with some unseen energy. The sight stole his breath and filled him with awe¡ªand dread.


    Astar slowly turned, following the dome¡¯s curve¡ªand saw its source. At the mountain¡¯s peak blazed a powerful beam of light, shooting straight into the sky. It was a colossal stream of raw energy, spreading outward to form the barrier.


    "That¡¯s the barrier," Dalanar said hoarsely, turning to face him. His voice carried both relief and exhaustion. "That beam¡¯s from the local Temple of Memoria. It sustains the barrier. While we¡¯re inside, the abyssals won¡¯t touch us. But we¡¯re about to cross the line."


    These words snapped Astar back to reality. He tore his gaze from the majestic dome and looked at those running beside him. The faces of the former prisoners reflected a mix of exhaustion and fear. Many of them, like him, were seeing daylight and breathing fresh air for the first time in what felt like an eternity.


    ¡°Shit¡­ there¡¯s barely more than ten of us left,¡± Astar realized with a sinking feeling, understanding that nearly twenty had fallen in the tunnels.


    But there was no time to mourn. Dalanar was already urging them forward.


    ¡°Move! Break¡¯s over! If we hesitate now, they¡¯ll catch us. Run while you still can!¡±


    They scrambled down the mountainside. The path was steep and treacherous¡ªloose stones slid underfoot, and sharp ridges threatened to send anyone tumbling with a single misstep. Astar ran, his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with the echoing footsteps of the group. The footwear they¡¯d been given in the mines was little more than wrapped rags, already tearing apart. Prisoners stumbled, fell, some rolled several meters down¡ªbut all of them forced themselves back up and pushed on. They all knew: a pause here meant death.


    The wind slammed into his face, carrying the chill of the forest that sprawled at the base of the mountain. Its shadows promised shelter, its depths a sliver of hope. For now, everyone¡¯s thoughts were fixed on the danger behind, not what lay ahead.


    The shouting and clamor from above began to fade, but tension still gripped the group. The guards could be right on their heels. All they wanted was to leave the mining territory behind¡ªbecause once they crossed that threshold, it was unlikely the pursuit would last long.


    Dalanar had explained that the Gray Mnemarchs wouldn¡¯t waste time tracking a handful of escaped slaves, especially when their chances of surviving the forest were slim to none. The regular guards, meanwhile, didn¡¯t have the power to freely roam outside the barrier¡ªthis path was marked as danger level three, which meant there was a real risk of encountering a Premarch-level Abyssal.


    Astar glanced behind to make sure Dalanar was still with them. His companion moved with a kind of mad confidence, as if he knew exactly what had to be done.


    And then, the forest was closer than he expected. They reached its edge, where the barrier shimmered with an intense glow. Up close, the semi-transparent wall rippling in white and blue hues looked even more awe-inspiring. It almost seemed alive, quivering like the surface of water.


    ¡°Through it! Don¡¯t stop!¡± Dalanar shouted, shoving them forward. No one hesitated, no one paused to examine the barrier.


    Astar felt something strange course through him the moment he crossed that veil of light. It was like plunging into a wall of water¡ªthick, pressurized¡ªyet he remained completely dry. A brief, weighty pressure wrapped around his body, then vanished, leaving only a faint tremor in his limbs.


    He turned back in time to see the barrier ripple behind him, as if it had responded to his touch. A pang of unease bloomed in his chest.


    ¡°We¡¯re in new danger now,¡± he realized, watching the others cross the threshold.


    Dalanar didn¡¯t allow them a moment to think.


    ¡°Into the forest! Now!¡± he barked. ¡°The roads are too exposed. If they come looking, that¡¯s where they¡¯ll check first. Move!¡±


    The group¡¯s tension surged, but no one argued. Astar felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, a primal warning from his body that something was wrong. He cast one last glance at the barrier, at the mountain range behind it, and then hurried after the others¡ªinto the strange, shadowy depths of the forest.

 Chapter 7 — Abyssals

    The forest they had plunged into reminded Astar once again that he was most definitely not on Earth. Towering trees with bluish foliage stretched hundreds of meters into the sky, their thick, moss-covered trunks radiating an ancient, immovable presence. Their canopies were dense, like branching threads shimmering in blue-green hues. The filtered light created soft, flickering patterns across the forest floor, which was blanketed in thick moss and enormous leaves.


    Astar ran, doing his best to stay on his feet, but he couldn¡¯t ignore how drastically different this forest was from anything he''d seen back on Earth. Each step felt like a new revelation¡ªunfamiliar, twisted plants; massive glowing flowers casting a faint blue luminescence; even the gnarled roots intertwined to form intricate patterns.


    Insects buzzed through the air, producing strange sounds he¡¯d never heard. Some resembled glowing beetles, others¡ªbizarre creatures with wings like they were spun from silver threads. One hovered right in front of his face for a moment, emitting a deep vibrating hum before flitting away.


    "This isn''t Earth. This is another world," he realized once again, and the thought struck him with renewed force. "A real other world. And I¡¯m here, running through its forest, trying not to die. Shit!"


    Dalanar, who was leading the way, suddenly turned and shouted over his shoulder, cutting through the relative stillness of the woods:


    ¡°Faster! Don¡¯t slow down! This forest isn¡¯t as safe as it looks!¡±


    His words spurred the group into quicker motion. No one wanted to find out what might be lurking deeper in this beautiful, yet clearly dangerous place. The tension was building¡ªthe air itself felt heavier. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping branch made heads turn.


    Astar passed a cluster of drooping plants whose long leaves seemed to sway despite the still air. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn¡¯t let himself falter.


    ¡°Run. Just run,¡± he repeated in his head, gripping the bloodstained pickaxe still clutched in his hands. ¡°Don¡¯t think about what¡¯s behind. Don¡¯t think about what might be ahead.¡±


    The dense forest began to close in around them, hiding them from the fading light of the barrier and cloaking them in uneasy solitude. But with that came the creeping sensation of being watched¡ªlike unseen eyes tracked every movement.


    When they had finally run far enough¡ªat least it felt like enough¡ªDalanar came to a halt. His sharp gesture brought everyone else to an immediate stop. Heavy breathing and pounding hearts echoed in Astar¡¯s ears, and his legs nearly gave out beneath him. Like the others, he collapsed against the trunk of a towering tree.


    The air was thick with both fear and relief. Some of the prisoners dropped flat to the ground, leaning weakly on their pickaxes or looted swords. One covered his face with trembling hands, trying to grasp the reality that they had truly escaped¡ªthat they actually had a chance to live.


    ¡°We love death. But I, for one, don¡¯t wanna die¡­ Good thing we made it out of that damned mine,¡± rasped one of the escapees, his voice shaking as if even he didn¡¯t believe the words. He belonged to one of those strange skeletal races.


    Astar still knew nothing about the species that inhabited this world, or how it all worked. Ever since gaining knowledge of the local language, he¡¯d kept up his act as the mute fool and avoided drawing attention. Dalanar had also told him to keep his mouth shut, promising to explain everything if they survived.


    No one responded to the skeletal man¡¯s comment. No one smiled. The joy of freedom quickly gave way to a heavy sense of dread. The forest, though it hid them from their pursuers, radiated a quiet, ominous presence. Or perhaps it was the fear of the unknown¡ªthe terrifying, boundless unknown that this world held.


    Astar sat hunched forward, trying to steady his breath. His hands still trembled, and behind his eyes flashed the images he couldn¡¯t forget. Death. The pickaxe striking down. Blood, cracking bone, the shatter of armor. That head¡ªblown apart in a spray of gore¡­


    His stomach churned again. He clamped a hand over his mouth but knew there was nothing left to come up. Everything he could have vomited was already left behind on the stone floors of the mines.


    ¡°I killed,¡± echoed in his mind. ¡°I killed someone. A living, thinking being. And not just once.¡±


    He lifted his gaze toward the others. Some looked just as dazed as he was. Others remained oddly calm, as if none of this touched them personally. But deep down, Astar knew¡ªthey were all equally shaken.


    He clenched his teeth, trying to push back the wave of weakness crashing over him.


    ¡°You survived. You had to. There was no other choice,¡± he repeated to himself, though the words rang hollow. Inside, everything continued tearing apart.


    Dalanar, noticing Astar¡¯s state, stepped closer. His expression showed something resembling concern, though his hardened stare tried to hide it. He crouched beside Astar and said quietly,


    ¡°You did well, Astar. Everyone¡¯s shaken right now, but we¡¯re alive. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Astar looked up. He wanted to reply, but the words caught in his throat. His lips trembled, and his fingers were still clamped around the pickaxe¡¯s handle like it was the last thing holding him together.


    But before Dalanar could say anything more, a new sound rolled through the forest¡ªa low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate straight through their bones.


    ¡°Graaaaar!¡± The leaves of the nearest trees shuddered, and the insects that had been buzzing peacefully just moments before vanished all at once.


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Dalanar muttered, his eyes narrowing. He straightened abruptly, as if preparing for something.


    ¡°Everyone up! Now!¡±


    His voice was firm, but carried a sharp edge of alarm. The others, though exhausted, began to rise. No one dared question him¡ªtension had gripped them all like a vice.


    ¡°That was an abyssal¡¯s roar,¡± he snapped, turning to the group. ¡°It¡¯s close. Probably caught our scent. If we don¡¯t want to end up dead, we need to move. Now!¡±


    He strode quickly to Astar and tore the pickaxe from his grip.


    ¡°You won¡¯t need this anymore,¡± he said, pulling one of two swords from his belt¡ªclearly scavenged from the overseers. He thrust it into Astar¡¯s hands. ¡°Can you handle this?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Astar felt the weapon¡¯s weight¡ªit was even heavier than the pickaxe. He didn¡¯t know the first thing about sword fighting, but arguing was pointless now. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    ¡°Try like your life depends on it,¡± Dalanar said coldly. ¡°If that abyssal comes at us, you stay back. Follow my orders. When I say ¡®now¡¯, strike for the head. Hard. Don¡¯t hesitate¡ªor we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    Astar nodded, sweat already trickling down his back.


    ¡°Move!¡± Dalanar shouted to the others. ¡°And remember¡ªno roads! Stay in the forest! Stick together!¡±


    The group began to move again, suppressing the dread gnawing at their nerves. Astar ran near the back, feeling the sword¡¯s weight in his hand and keeping his eyes locked on Dalanar¡¯s back. The growl came again¡ªcloser this time¡ªand something rustled deep in the underbrush.


    ¡°Run,¡± Astar ordered himself silently. ¡°Run and don¡¯t look back. You don¡¯t want to see that damned monster!¡±


    ¡°There are plenty of caves beneath this forest!¡± Dalanar shouted over his shoulder, trying to rally them. ¡°Once we find one, we can rest!¡±


    They kept running. The forest seemed to come alive with ominous rustling and snapping twigs. Each fugitive did their best to keep pace, avoiding the roads as instructed. Slowly, the abyssal¡¯s roars began to fade, and tension began to ease¡ªjust a little.


    Astar felt his heartbeat start to settle, though every cell in his body remained coiled like a spring. At some point, he even dared to think they might¡¯ve gotten away. Maybe the abyssal had lost their trail¡­ maybe they hadn¡¯t been seen at all.


    But the relief was a lie.


    ¡°Shuuuv!¡± Suddenly, from behind a nearby tree trunk, a massive black shadow lunged forward.


    Time seemed to slow, and Astar saw it¡ªan enormous monster landing in a single leap beside one of the unfortunate fugitives. In that moment, he couldn¡¯t move. He could only watch as the creature¡¯s jaws clamped shut around its prey.


    ¡°Chvrk!¡± came the sickening crunch.


    Astar¡¯s eyes flew wide, dread shooting down his spine like ice. The thing rebounded with a guttural snarl, landing in their path¡ªcutting off escape.


    Astar stared at the black beast that now stood before them. It loomed on four massive limbs that ended not in paws, but clawed hands disturbingly similar to human ones. Its shape vaguely resembled a beast, but there was no neck¡ªits body flowed straight into a huge, grotesque head. At the center of that head was a single, massive eye¡­ one that held multiple pupils, each gazing in different directions. And that gaze¡­ it radiated hatred. Pure, boundless hatred and insatiable hunger.


    The main jaw yawned open directly beneath the eye, packed with crooked, blade-like fangs, currently clutching the half-devoured body of its victim. Every time the mouth opened wider, clouds of black mist poured out, and thick droplets of oily black saliva fell to the ground¡ªsizzling violently as they burned away the grass beneath.


    ¡°What the hell is that¡­¡± Astar muttered, stumbling a step back.


    The victim the monster had pounced on hadn¡¯t even had time to scream. Their body convulsed as the beast tore into their flesh. Crimson blood spilled down its jet-black maw, dripping onto the forest floor. The creature let out a vile, wet chewing noise, clearly relishing its prize.


    ¡°Gods,¡± someone whispered behind Astar. The voice trembled, hollow like that of a ghost.


    Astar tried to look away, but couldn¡¯t. His legs felt welded to the earth, his eyes locked on the horror unfolding before him.


    ¡°That¡¯s an abyssal,¡± he realized. ¡°A real abyssal! And we¡¯re supposed to fight that thing?!¡±


    As always, Dalanar was the first to snap back into action. He drew his sword and spun toward the group.


    ¡°We¡¯re in trouble! This one¡¯s powerful!¡± he barked, his voice cracking through the haze like a whip. ¡°Surround it! I can¡¯t break its defense¡ªbut if we hold it long enough, Astar can land a strike!¡±


    For a moment, the fugitives froze, their faces etched with panic and despair. But Dalanar¡¯s commanding voice, filled with strength and certainty, spurred them into motion. Everyone understood¡ªrunning was pointless. The monster would catch them long before they could get far.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there like fools!¡± Dalanar snapped, pointing his blade at the abyssal. ¡°That¡¯s not a humanoid¡ªit¡¯s a beast-type. And it only recently reached the Premarch level. That means it¡¯s dangerous, but not impossible. Only strike if you¡¯re sure you can dodge! The goal is to distract it¡ªhit and retreat!¡±


    Reluctantly, the others began to spread out, forming a loose circle around the beast. They held swords, pickaxes, anything they could use as weapons. Astar still stood rooted in place, clutching the sword Dalanar had given him. His hands shook violently, and his mind screamed one word: ¡°Run! Run while you still can!¡±


    ¡°Astar!¡± Dalanar grabbed his shoulder and gave him a hard shake. ¡°We need you! When I give the signal¡ªstrike the head. You¡¯re the only one who can pierce its defenses. Got it?!¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Astar wanted to say no, to shout that he wasn¡¯t made for this. But then he saw the look in Dalanar¡¯s eyes¡ªthe same confidence that rang in his voice. He swallowed and nodded. ¡°Got it.¡±


    The monster, having finished its first victim, slowly lifted its massive head. A guttural growl rumbled from deep within its throat. Its twisted eyes scanned the ones surrounding it, and a grotesque grin spread across its warped face¡ªas if it was savoring their fear.


    ¡°Now!¡± Dalanar shouted. ¡°Circle and distract it!¡±


    The fugitives charged. Their movements were frantic, but they followed the plan. One darted forward and slashed with a pickaxe, the metal biting into the beast¡¯s flank¡ªbut barely scratching it. The abyssal roared in irritation and lunged, only for another fighter to land a blow across its tail, drawing its attention away.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It swung toward the second attacker, but he rolled away just in time. Two more rushed in from the sides, striking quickly and retreating before the monster could retaliate.


    Dalanar, watching the pattern unfold, barked out,


    ¡°Keep it up! Don¡¯t give it room to move! Astar, be ready! We¡¯re opening a gap¡ªyou need to finish it!¡±


    ¡°What the hell is this life? Just a few years ago I was sitting in an office!¡± Astar cursed inwardly, trying to turn fear into fury. ¡°Now I¡¯m hunting monsters?! What the hell is happening to me?!¡±


    He stood just behind the fray, gripping the sword so tightly his fingers had turned white. His hands trembled. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to break free. The battle ahead looked like something out of a fantasy novel¡ªexcept it was real. Terrifyingly real. The others kept striking, always retreating immediately. Their movements were rough, untrained, but the plan was working¡ªthey were keeping the abyssal distracted.


    But the thing was too fast.


    Those twisted ¡°hands¡± with their clawed, human-like fingers kept slashing the air, tearing into any attacker who didn¡¯t move fast enough. One screamed as claws ripped across his side, collapsing in the grass. Another raised his pickaxe, but the beast spun and drove its tail straight through his neck.


    Blood sprayed. The prisoner crumpled like a broken doll, and the monster flung his body aside before turning back to the group with a thunderous roar.


    In mere minutes, their numbers had already shrunk.


    Astar saw it all. His mind reeled with terror, but something else had begun to spark inside him. Not just anger or desperation¡ªbut a clear realization.


    ¡°Screw this. They¡¯re giving me a window. That means it won¡¯t see my strike coming. I just need to bury this damn blade in its skull!¡±


    ¡°Astar!¡± Dalanar roared. His voice boomed like thunder. ¡°Now! Hit it! We¡¯ve opened the gap!¡±


    Every muscle in Astar¡¯s body tensed like a coiled spring. He inhaled sharply¡ªthen sprinted forward.


    Time slowed.


    He saw the monster turning, its massive eye focusing on its next target¡ªbut too late. He saw the blood streaking its face, the fire smoldering in its maw.


    Astar screamed, pouring into that cry all his rage, fear, and strength. He swung the sword, and his entire body moved as a single, unified force.


    Shuuv! The blade bit and sank into the monster¡¯s skull with such force that a wet crunch rang out, mingled with the sound of splintering stone.


    Black blood gushed from the beast¡¯s head, splattering Astar¡¯s face and chest. The creature let out one final roar that faded into a rasp, and its massive body collapsed onto the ground, sending a faint tremor through the earth.


    Astar froze, still clutching the sword that now sat halfway embedded in the monster¡¯s head. His legs trembled, his breath was ragged. He stepped back, released the hilt, and fell hard onto his rear.


    "I¡­ I did it," he whispered, not believing his own words. Strangely, killing this beast didn¡¯t bring with it the same sickening cocktail of horror and revulsion that had flooded him when he killed sentient beings.


    The black blood spread around him, poisoning and soaking the grass, and the beast didn¡¯t move again. Its skin began to sting at his own, prompting him to instinctively wipe it off with the rough, filthy sleeve of his clothes.


    Inside Astar, everything was tangled: terror and relief, shock and triumph. His heart pounded, the ringing in his ears drowned out the sounds around him, but the feeling of victory gradually filled his mind. He had killed that thing. He¡ªsomeone who not long ago believed himself weak and powerless¡ªhad slain an abyssal. And in that moment, something strange stirred within him¡­ He almost liked the feeling of his newfound power.


    ¡°Damn! Nicely done, Astar!¡± Dalanar shouted. ¡°That big bastard probably has a core in him! You know what? Once we get to the city, we might even make a profit, ha-ha!¡±


    Astar spun toward Dalanar. His face still showed traces of fear, but a nearly crazed smile broke across his lips.


    ¡°Incredible! We did it!¡± he yelled, raising his hand in the air. ¡°We killed it! We¡ª!¡±


    His voice stopped. The entire world seemed to freeze in that instant. Astar¡¯s eyes widened, and his joyful expression twisted into one of horror.


    He saw them ¡ª leaping silently and ominously from the dense shadows of the forest behind Dalanar came three abyssals at once. They resembled the one he had just killed, but one among them was far more monstrous in both size and form. Its body was broader, its clawed hands more massive, and from its gaping jaws spilled an even denser stream of black flame.


    It was nearly twice the size of its kin. Its ribcage looked like it was made of exposed bones, from which black fluid dripped. Its pupils, glowing with a crimson light, locked directly onto Dalanar.


    Time slowed. Astar watched as the enormous creature, with a single leap, landed directly behind Dalanar. One of the prisoners shouted out in a desperate attempt to warn him, but the voice was lost, drowned out as if the world had gone mute.


    Dalanar turned, sword already at the ready, but even he didn¡¯t have time to fully comprehend the scope of the new threat.


    ¡°Dalanar!¡± Astar screamed, his voice filled with terror.


    But the warning came too late. That monstrous maw, lined with jagged fangs, lunged forward, crashing down on Dalanar like the hammer of fate.


    Clack!


    The sound that followed was wet, muffled, and unbearably loud in Astar¡¯s ears. In a single instant, the monstrous creature clamped its jaws around Dalanar¡¯s body, then violently twisted its head to the side.


    Dalanar¡¯s body ¡ª just moments ago brimming with energy and resolve ¡ª was torn in two. Blood and entrails burst in every direction, soaking the ground beneath them. His face, which only a heartbeat earlier had radiated confidence and fighting spirit, froze with a strange, almost joyful smile. He hadn¡¯t even had time to register what happened. Or perhaps, he simply refused to believe it¡ªafter all, meeting such powerful abyssals on these roads was supposed to be nearly impossible¡­


    Astar stood frozen, his feet rooted to the earth. He stared at the crumpled body of his only ally as it hit the ground. Everything inside him turned to stone. His mind screamed, refusing to accept what had just happened.


    But that was only the first blow.


    The remaining abyssals surged forward. Their attacks were lightning-fast, lethal, and terrifyingly graceful. Claws tore flesh, fangs ripped through bodies. The screams of prisoners filled the forest, mixing with the deep growls of the monsters. Crimson blood flowed in rivers, turning the grass beneath them into a thick, sticky mire.


    One of the smaller abyssals pounced on a prisoner with a sword, knocking him flat before tearing out his throat. Another lunged toward a separate group, easily bowling people over and sinking its teeth into their chests. It was a massacre. No one stood a chance against their power.


    But the one that frightened Astar the most was the largest of them. Its movements were slower, yet radiated a terrifying confidence. It didn¡¯t rush. It moved as if savoring the slaughter, as if declaring: ¡°You¡¯re already dead. Just accept it.¡±


    From this creature emanated an indescribable aura, pressing down on Astar with such crushing force that his body began to tremble. It was the same sensation he had felt when he saw the Gray Mnemarchs back in the mines.


    "This is impossible... According to Dalanar, monsters like that shouldn¡¯t even exist here¡­ I can¡¯t fight something like that. None of us can!"


    At some point, one of the fugitives, screaming in desperation, rushed the enormous monster¡ªbut the creature merely snorted, and from its maw, like a dart, a black spike shot forward. The impact was so powerful that the man¡¯s body was flung backward and pinned against a tree trunk.


    In that moment, Astar understood one thing: they were doomed.


    "Run," flashed through his mind. "The only chance to survive¡ªrun!"


    His legs began to move on their own. He didn¡¯t even realize he¡¯d left his sword lodged in the corpse of the monster he had slain. All he could do was flee, never looking back, while hell tore the forest apart behind him.


    Astar ran as if death itself was chasing him. His heart thundered, his legs carried him forward, but his mind was still drowning in terror. Behind him he heard screams, the crunch of bones, and monstrous growls¡ªbut he didn¡¯t dare turn around. Fear was stronger than curiosity.


    The silence didn¡¯t last. Branches cracked and a dull thudding filled the air behind him, growing louder with every second. Astar risked a glance over his shoulder¡ªand immediately regretted it.


    The massive monster had chosen him as its prey.


    Its eyes, glowing crimson, were locked onto him, and its colossal body moved with terrifying ease. Each of its steps made the earth tremble. But the worst part wasn¡¯t its size¡ªthe abyssal wasn¡¯t rushing after him. It wasn¡¯t sprinting. Its pace was slow, almost leisurely, like a predator savoring the hunt.


    "He knows¡­ He knows I can¡¯t escape..." Astar realized.


    Then, like a bolt of lightning through his skull, the truth hit him: the creature saw something in him. Something he didn¡¯t yet understand. Something that made him more than just a target¡ªmade him the most desirable prize.


    "Memoria," he guessed, choking on the lump in his throat. "It has to be the memoria. This thing sees it¡ªfeels that I¡¯m stronger than the others¡ªand it wants to devour me! Shit! God, help me!" The horror pushed him to pray, even though he¡¯d never been particularly religious.


    The monster picked up speed, and a fresh surge of adrenaline flooded Astar¡¯s body. His legs moved faster than ever, but the forest conspired against him. Branches tore at his clothes, roots clawed at his feet, and every breath felt like fire in his chest.


    "Just run! Run! But where?!" he shouted in his mind, trying desperately to push back the rising panic.


    Behind him came a low, drawn-out growl that seemed to vibrate through the air, making the trees shudder. It wasn¡¯t just threatening¡ªit was brimming with anticipation. The beast was enjoying the chase, absolutely certain of how it would end.


    "What a ridiculous chain of events," Astar thought bitterly, crashing through the dense undergrowth, trying to lose the monster. He still couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around how absurd everything had become.


    "I sold my company. A successful goddamn company! I was supposed to relax, to enjoy peace!" Rage and fear twisted inside him, forming a boiling storm. "I dealt with endless legal bullshit and negotiations¡­ and when it was finally all behind me, I got sucked into this cursed new world! Slave labor, mines, memoria, abyssals¡­ and now I¡¯m about to be some monster¡¯s lunch! Is this the gift my parents left me?! You asked for my forgiveness? To hell with you!"


    "Even in this world, you''re still shitty parents!" he shouted with burning resentment and fury.


    That terrible sound filled his mind again¡ªthe crunch of bones, the screams, the predator¡¯s growl. It chased him even now, making his heart skip beats. He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could keep running. His legs were turning to jelly, his breath was ragged, and his chest burned with pain.


    "I don¡¯t want to die! Not like this! Not now! My whole life would¡¯ve been for nothing!" Astar screamed inwardly, finally realizing just how far he¡¯d strayed from the life he truly wanted.


    And then¡­ he saw it.


    Up ahead, nestled between two jagged rocks and hidden behind thick brush, was a small hole. It was barely wide enough for a man of average build¡ªif that. Astar didn¡¯t have time to weigh the risks. Something deep inside told him it was his only shot.


    "Can I fit in there? What if it¡¯s a dead end?! Doesn¡¯t matter. I have to try!"


    He poured every last ounce of strength into his legs, hurling himself forward toward the rocky opening. A few more steps¡ªand the cave opened before him, far too narrow to walk into. He¡¯d have to dive headfirst or feet-first.


    "Shit!" Astar cursed, not slowing down.


    Behind him came a thunderous roar. The monster must have noticed the maneuver and was now charging full speed, closing the gap with terrifying speed.


    "Come on, come on, damn it!" Astar screamed inwardly, pushing his body past the limit and bracing for the leap.


    He pushed off the ground with both feet, launching himself into the narrow opening feet first. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Astar felt the air around him grow dense, as if the cold shadow of death itself was catching up to him.


    His line of sight shifted, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The monster¡¯s gaping maw, full of jagged fangs, was already closing in to devour him. Its eyes blazed with crimson light, and black smoke poured from its throat, filling the air with a nauseating stench of rot and burning flesh.


    The creature¡¯s fetid breath hit Astar¡¯s face¡ªhot, searing, reeking of blood. It was too close, too real, too inevitable. Time stretched into an eternal moment.


    ¡°This has to be some sick joke¡­¡± flashed through Astar¡¯s mind as the jaws began to snap shut around him.


    But in that instant, his body crashed into the opening. Astar felt his shoulders scrape the edges of the stone entrance, the cold rock tearing at his skin¡ªbut he didn¡¯t stop. With a desperate burst of strength, he hurled himself into the cave, his head vanishing just as the monster¡¯s teeth clamped shut¡ªon nothing but air.


    CLACK! echoed behind him¡ªand in the next instant, the world shook.


    BA-BAAM! The monster slammed into the rock with a thunderous crash, sending stones tumbling around the cave¡¯s mouth. The booming impact echoed through the forest, silencing the smaller creatures in terrified stillness.


    Astar was stunned, overwhelmed, his mind reeling to make sense of what had just happened. He couldn¡¯t believe he had escaped death. All he could feel was the weight of his own body¡ªand a sudden, terrifying lightness beneath him.


    "I¡­ I¡¯m alive?" he thought¡ªjust as he realized he was falling.


    The opening he had leapt through wasn¡¯t a passage¡ªit was the mouth of a vast cavern. Darkness yawned beneath him, and the sensation of freefall seized him completely. Wind whipped past his face, and his chest tightened with fear.


    ¡°No-no-no! Don¡¯t tell me there¡¯s more!¡± he screamed internally, plummeting into the unknown.


    There was only darkness. The rushing howl of air filled his ears, and the occasional flash of reflected light on the stone walls confirmed that he was spiraling downward.


    The fall lasted just seconds¡ªbut for Astar, it felt like an eternity. He didn¡¯t even have time to scream before he hit¡ª


    SPLOOSH!


    A heavy splash echoed through the cavern as he plunged into freezing, biting water. The cold engulfed him instantly, silencing all sound and snatching the breath from his lungs. The shock was blinding¡ªbut one thing mattered above all: he hadn¡¯t been shattered on the rocks. He was still alive.


    Astar kicked and thrashed, forcing his body upward.


    Khg-aah! He burst through the surface, gasping desperately, choking on air and water. Waves rippled outward from his flailing limbs as he frantically looked around, blinking and wiping his face.


    "Light!" he shouted silently.


    He saw it¡ªhe had landed in an enormous underground lake, the cavern stretching dozens of meters in every direction. High above, the ceiling disappeared into shadow, but the walls and roof were dotted with faintly glowing stalagmites and clusters of strange mushrooms. They gave off a cool, silvery light like moonlight, casting ghostly reflections across the water¡¯s surface. And more importantly¡ªthey allowed him to see where he was.


    He looked around and spotted it¡ªa shoreline. A narrow patch of ground, slick with wet stones and dotted with luminous fungi, lay nearby. Without hesitating, he paddled toward it, each stroke burning his tired muscles.


    When he finally reached the bank, his feet touched solid ground and he dragged himself onto land, collapsing in a trembling, gasping heap. His breath came in ragged gulps, his entire body shivering from cold and exhaustion¡ªbut he was alive. He had survived.


    ¡°To hell with this world¡­ and to hell with my parents! If I make it to a damn city, I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to carve out a safe, comfortable life for myself¡­ Screw everything else¡­¡± he muttered between gasps, trembling with cold and fury.


    Catching his breath, he slowly lifted his head and looked around. His eyes, adjusting to the dim light, picked out more details¡ªthis cave wasn¡¯t just a dead end. In several places, tunnel-like openings yawned into darkness, natural corridors big enough to walk through upright.


    "An exit," he thought. "Maybe one of these leads outside?" he dared to hope.


    He wanted to feel triumph, to rejoice that he had narrowly escaped death. But instead, he felt only a heavy, crushing weight inside him. He had no idea what awaited him next¡ªbut one thing was certain: even if he made it out of the cave, he would still have to survive that damned forest. And after everything that had happened, he wasn¡¯t even sure he had the courage left to face the world above.

 Chapter 8 — Corruption Devouring Technique

    Astar sat on the rocky bank, staring at the glowing walls of the cave. The cold and fear were slowly fading, replaced by exhaustion and a heavy tightness in his chest. His mind began working again, analyzing everything that had happened and breaking it down piece by piece like a strategy game.


    ¡°What now?¡± he wondered, glancing at the winding paths that disappeared into the depths of the cave. ¡°Where do I even go? I don¡¯t know where I am.¡±


    He rose to his feet, trembling with fatigue, and, swaying slightly, took a few steps forward. Water dripped from his clothes, leaving a damp trail across the stone floor. If not for the changes in his body caused by the memoria¡ªand the ¡°training¡± in the mines¡ªthe cold and exhaustion might¡¯ve finished him off by now.


    The light of the stalactites and glowing fungi bathed the cave in a soft glow, casting strange, rippling shadows. This place was terrifying, yet mesmerizing in its own way.


    ¡°That thing¡­¡± Astar¡¯s thoughts returned to the monster that had killed Dalanar. ¡°It¡¯s out there. Roaming, looking for me¡­ Or maybe it¡¯s gone? But can I risk it?¡±


    He pressed on, surveying the tunnels that stretched out in every direction. Each step echoed around him, and the damp underground air filled his lungs with the taste of stone and moisture. Still, it was far better than the dust-choked air of the mines he¡¯d endured for months.


    It felt like hours had passed. Astar wandered through branching passages, trying to memorize his path, but eventually realized it was useless. The tunnels all looked too similar, and the glow of the stalactites made it impossible to distinguish clear landmarks. Navigation was a lost cause.


    The entire time, he processed everything that had happened to him. Only after an endless inner monologue did he finally calm himself. Or rather, convince himself that he needed to remain cold-blooded. He pitied Dalanar¡ªAstar had grown used to him, maybe even placed a fragile hope in him. But now, he was alone again, in a worse position than before, and very likely to join his first¡ªand perhaps last¡ªcompanion in this world.


    "What if there is no exit?" The thought stabbed through him like a blade. "What if I just die here? Alone. In the dark?"


    ¡°Just perfect¡­¡± he muttered, glancing around. ¡°Feels like I¡¯m in one of those internet videos¡ªpeople crawling through caves for god-knows-what reason¡­ Let¡¯s just hope I don¡¯t have to squeeze through some nightmare tunnel.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s more absurd¡ªbeing eaten by a monster or getting stuck in a cave on another damn world¡­¡±


    He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts.


    ¡°No. You can¡¯t give up, Astar. You¡¯ve already been through hell. That means you can survive this too.¡±


    More time passed. Hours, maybe. Astar pushed deeper into the cave, walking under the pale light of luminescent fungi¡ªuntil he felt something strange. A faint, almost imperceptible draft brushed against his face. Amid the cave¡¯s chill, it even felt warm.


    ¡°Wind?¡± His heart leapt.


    He froze, trying to make sure he wasn¡¯t imagining it. There it was again¡ªa soft breeze. Weak, but unmistakably different from the stagnant air of the cave.


    ¡°An exit¡­¡± he whispered, and for the first time in hours, hope rang in his voice.


    Summoning the last of his strength, he moved toward the source of the breeze. His pace quickened, becoming a stumbling half-run. More than once, he nearly fell, but he caught himself on the walls and kept going.


    The breeze grew stronger. With each step, the air became fresher, and with it came the scent of something long forgotten¡ªfreedom.


    Astar moved faster, slipping on wet stone, but the wind pushed him forward. The gentle draft was no illusion now¡ªit was real, alive, carrying the scent not just of grass, but something strange¡­ something slightly off.


    The glow of the fungi and stalactites began to fade, replaced by natural light. The tunnel widened, and the breeze carried with it faint sounds that could have been the rustle of trees.


    ¡°There¡¯s a way out. Just a little farther,¡± he kept telling himself, doing everything he could to stay composed. ¡°Just don¡¯t let it be a trap. Let this actually lead outside¡­¡±


    He felt the ground beneath his feet growing drier, the darkness giving way to something clearer. His heart pounded, his body screaming with every step, but he pushed forward through the pain, through the fear. Each movement sent shocks of pain through him, but he didn¡¯t stop.


    "But even if I do get out¡­ what then? If that thing finds me again¡ªI''m done for. Can I even reach a city?" The thoughts churned in his head, heavy with dread, as he realized this wasn¡¯t the end of his problems. Not even close.


    And then¡ªhe saw it.


    Light poured through a crack in the cave wall. He couldn¡¯t yet see what lay beyond, but he knew¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the dim glow of fungi or the shimmer of stones. It was real, natural light. Soft, warm sunlight.


    ¡°Please let it be an actual exit¡­¡± Astar whispered, pausing for a moment to process what was happening.


    His body seemed to move on its own, pushing forward through the last few meters. When he reached the edge of the fissure, he saw¡­ something horrifying.


    Spread out before him was a vast cavern that opened to the outside world. But between him and that exit stood something extraordinary.


    An enormous skeleton, five meters long and nearly three meters tall, lay sprawled across the cave floor. Its black-violet bones glimmered faintly beneath the golden sunlight spilling in from above. Its outline was grotesque¡ªmisshapen and unnatural, as though the bones belonged to a creature that should never have existed. Crooked ribs, shattered limbs¡ªevery piece of it screamed of something monstrous. It was easily the size of the beast that had killed Dalanar.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡± Astar whispered, staring at the remains.


    From the hollow cavity of its ribcage rose a barely perceptible black mist, coiling around the massive skull with its long, jagged fangs. The empty sockets of the beast¡¯s eye sockets seemed to bore into him, sending a shiver through his core. Scattered around the chamber were piles of smaller bones¡ªskulls and shattered remains of lesser creatures, no doubt devoured by this monster during its lifetime. But all of Astar¡¯s attention was consumed by the central skeleton.


    Clearly, this had once been the creature¡¯s den. Now, it was dead¡ªat least outwardly.


    Astar froze, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. What was this thing? Another abyssal? His thoughts tangled. The mist rising from the bones sent out a strange chill, and there was a whisper¡ªso faint he wasn¡¯t sure it was real, or just his imagination.


    He had to decide what to do. Approach? Search the cave for anything useful? Or flee before it was too late?


    ¡°I wonder if it died on its own¡­ or if someone killed it,¡± he muttered, cautiously peering from behind the rocky edge.


    Astar took a deep breath, wrestling down the tension building inside. The cave was silent, save for the sound of his own breathing. Nothing moved. No signs of threat.


    ¡°No rush¡­ Better to wait a day, let that creature that killed Dalanar wander farther away,¡± he murmured, clenching his fists. ¡°If anything in here was dangerous, it would¡¯ve revealed itself already. So¡­ maybe I can hide out here for a while.¡±


    Slowly, as if afraid to disturb the dead, Astar stepped forward, descending into the cavern across mounds of bones. He noticed, with growing unease, that some of the remains bore scraps of fabric.


    ¡°Looks like this thing didn¡¯t just kill forest animals¡­¡±


    The chill from the black mist grew stronger with each step, as if invisible tendrils were curling around his body. But still¡ªnothing happened. No sound. No movement.


    ¡°Nothing to be afraid of,¡± Astar whispered, forcing himself to keep walking.


    As he got closer, something caught his eye inside the creature¡¯s ribcage¡ªa glimmer. Nestled deep among the bones, like the heart of a dead beast, was a sphere the size of a grown man¡¯s fist. Its surface shimmered faintly in the dim sunlight, and inside swirled a black substance¡ªlike smoke or thick liquid. For a brief moment, Astar thought he saw faces inside it. Shadowy, almost human visages that twisted and vanished into the void.


    ¡°A core¡­¡± he muttered, recalling Dalanar¡¯s stories. Just before his death, Dalanar had mentioned that abyssal cores were incredibly valuable, and could fetch a high price in the city.


    ¡°This explains a lot,¡± Astar said quietly. ¡°If the core¡¯s still here, that means the beast died on its own¡ªno one took it down. Otherwise, something this valuable would never be left behind. And if the core¡¯s untouched, this cave probably hasn¡¯t been entered in ages. The flesh has rotted off, but no scavengers, no signs of looting¡­¡±


    He knelt down and cautiously reached toward the bones. The mist didn¡¯t burn him. It simply hovered, heavy and cold, weighing down the air like fog that carried memory.


    ¡°Judging by the aura¡­ this core feels like that monster¡¯s,¡± he said, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Was this thing on par with a Gray Mnemarch? If so, the danger ratings for these roads are way off¡ªor this entire region needs to be reassessed.¡±


    After circling the corpse a few times, Astar began to contemplate his future. If he made it to the city, he¡¯d need starting capital¡ªsomething to build a new life with.


    ¡°If I can get this core out of here, maybe I¡¯ll have a shot at starting over. Maybe I should even try to become a Mnemarch¡­ It¡¯d be something, testing the limits of this strange new power¡­¡±


    But he understood¡ªthis core might be more than just valuable. It could be dangerous. The abyssia surrounding it could easily cause harm if not properly purified. Dalanar had described this substance as the opposite of memoria¡ªsomething that could twist and destroy if left unchecked.


    But after a moment¡¯s thought, Astar realized there shouldn¡¯t be any problem. After all, Dalanar had recently planned to extract a similar core from an abyssal and bring it to the city. So maybe it wasn¡¯t as dangerous as it seemed.


    ¡°All right¡­ Looks like luck¡¯s still on my side. On Earth I bought Bitcoin at the right time, and here I find a valuable core¡­ ha-ha¡­¡± he muttered, trying to laugh off the weight pressing on his chest.


    Astar reached into the ribcage of the skeleton to shift one of the large bones covering the crystal. Carefully, holding his breath, he leaned closer, already picturing how the wealth from this find would become his first step toward survival in this world.


    He stretched out a hand toward the core, his gaze fixed on the hypnotic dance of black smoke within. His fingers trembled slightly, but he forced the doubt away. ¡°It¡¯s just an artifact. Everyone here uses these,¡± he reassured himself.


    But the moment his skin touched the surface of the core, everything changed. Chaos erupted.


    Shuuuv! A tendril of ¡°smoke¡± from the sphere lashed out and pierced his hand.


    Pain blinded him. The black smoke inside the sphere began to swirl wildly, raging like a storm. A searing pain tore through his palm and shot through his entire body like a thousand needles stabbing at once. It raced for his head, burning like lava as it flooded his consciousness¡ªthen flared directly within the Soul Vault.


    It felt as if something had pulled cursed energy from the core into him!


    ¡°AAAHHH!¡± A scream tore from his throat, echoing through the cavern. Astar jerked his hand back as if burned and stumbled away, gasping for air. His mind was on fire, emotions thrown into chaos, but there was no visible damage. He glanced at the core: the smoke inside had returned to a slow, gentle swirl, as if nothing had happened.


    Dizzy, he lost balance and collapsed onto the floor, the scattered bones jabbing painfully into his back.


    But that wasn¡¯t the end of his body¡¯s strange reaction¡­


    Astar suddenly sensed something stir¡ªthe plaque of the Corruption Devouring Technique.


    ¡°Shit¡­ Is this because of my technique?¡± he growled through clenched teeth, closing his eyes and shifting his focus inward¡ªinto his Soul Vault. The black energy from the core now floated around the plaque, like it was awakening the ancient artifact.


    Its surface, usually lifeless and inert, now radiated a sinister glow. The thin engravings across it pulsed with black, living energy.


    ¡°Did I just accidentally activate the Corruption Devouring Technique?!¡± Astar thought in shock. That artifact had remained dormant no matter what he tried, as if sealed away from him¡ªbut now, something had changed. Now, he felt something emanating from the plaque¡ªsomething ancient, ominous¡­ yet obedient.


    ¡°Could it be that my ancestor¡¯s technique isn¡¯t fueled by memoria¡­ but by abyssia?¡± Astar realized the inheritance passed down to him was far more complicated than he had imagined.


    He barely had time to breathe before another wave of agony surged through him¡ªworse than anything before!


    It poured from the plaque, now alive inside his Soul Vault. The Corruption Devouring Technique began to spread black mist, which lunged at the white vortex of Memoria within him!


    ¡°KGAAAAH!¡± Astar screamed aloud. It felt like his body was being torn apart from the inside, his soul forced to channel something ancient and unnatural.


    He collapsed onto his knees, writhing. His fingers curled from the spasms, and another scream ripped from his throat, his voice raw and cracking. Astar clutched his head as if trying to contain something inside that was about to burst.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening to me?!¡± the thought slammed through his mind as the pain reached its peak.


    He could feel it¡ªblack mist seeping into the white vortex of Memoria, corrupting it, forcibly altering its nature. The vortex darkened, groaned, and began to resemble the cursed energy from the abyssal core. It was becoming abyssia!


    The transformation was pure torment, so intense Astar began smashing his forehead against the stone floor. Terror engulfed him again¡ªhe thought he was dying. From the moment he¡¯d arrived in this world, it had been one deadly situation after another!


    The agony stretched on, minute after minute, though it felt like an eternity. His screams filled the cave, and he stopped caring whether it might attract abyssals. At this point, he would have welcomed anything that ended his suffering.


    Then¡ªsuddenly¡ªsilence. But only for a breath¡­


    DOOM!


    His consciousness exploded with a torrent of knowledge. Symbols, diagrams, and shapes flared through his mind, as if someone were forcefully embedding information into him. But it wasn¡¯t structured knowledge like a book or a voice¡ªit was patterns. Schematics of the Corruption Devouring Technique fusing into his Soul Vault.


    And then he saw him¡ªthe man whose soul had passed down the technique to him. The figure stood tall, his face focused but eyes haunted with concern. His voice, calm and melodic, echoed directly within Astar¡¯s mind.


    "If you''re hearing this, it means a worthy descendant has finally appeared..."


    That phrase alone made Astar''s skin crawl. When he¡¯d broken through to the Premarch stage, there hadn¡¯t been any direct message¡ªno voice speaking to him.


    "Today, you¡¯ve received the Corruption Devouring Technique. From now on, you are bound to it forever. My legacy has become your fate."


    The voice was gentle, almost comforting, but every word carried a cold, creeping dread. "My technique is unique. Powerful. One of a kind¡­ And because of that, it comes with serious side effects."


    Astar breathed heavily, listening. The man in the vision sighed, his voice softening further as he continued:


    "Forgive me, my descendant¡­ but I had to put safeguards in place. Now that my technique has been activated, you can no longer abandon it. I couldn''t risk a compatible heir turning their back on it. You could say you are cursed by me¡­ and yet also blessed."


    "And if you¡ªmy worthy successor¡ªhad never come, my life, my work, everything I lived for, would have been lost forever. Finish what I started. Unlock the secrets I never had time to uncover. You must¡ªbecause this is the only way to subdue the abyssia and stop its spread. You must master this technique, push it to its limits, and do what I was never allowed to do..."


    But the voice of the ancestor abruptly cut off, as if he hadn¡¯t had time to say all he wanted.


    As his voice faded, so too did the pain. Astar began to return to himself, wiping cold sweat from his brow.


    "He cursed me?" Astar whispered, heart pounding with renewed fear. "What the hell?!"


    He closed his eyes again and felt the plaque still floating within his Soul Vault. Its glow had softened, but it no longer seemed inert. It was part of him now¡ªfused with his soul. And strangest of all, his entire Memoria had changed color. Despite that, he felt undeniably stronger than before.


    Astar stood on trembling legs, cold sweat running down his spine. The black glow of the plaque in his Soul Vault was fading, but its presence remained. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.


    He leaned heavily on the skeleton beside him, struggling to catch his breath. His body shook, his mind still spinning from everything that had happened.


    "Okay¡­ okay¡­ Enough panic," he muttered, wiping sweat from his face.


    His voice was shaky, but there was more resolve in it than fear now. He straightened up, glanced around the grim cavern, and a faint, crooked smile tugged at his lips.


    "Who cares, really? I just won¡¯t mess with all this cursed magic¡­ I¡¯ll find something else to do. Ha-ha..."


    He lifted his gaze to the abyssal bones, which now seemed far less intimidating. The cursed technique that had bound itself to his soul, and the shift in his Memoria¡ªthey were far more unsettling.


    ¡°Everything will be fine,¡± he told himself. ¡°I just won¡¯t develop this weird power. I¡¯ll rely on my memoria only in extreme cases. If I don¡¯t train the technique, there¡¯s nothing to be cursed for, right?¡±


    He inhaled deeply and looked over the skeleton, the cave, and the sunlight filtering in from outside.


    "Alright. Let¡¯s see just what this Corruption Devouring Technique and its so-called curse are all about¡­ I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing that bad..." he muttered, closing his eyes.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    After hearing his ancestor¡¯s words, Astar clearly sensed that the plaque had changed. It felt like, now, if he touched it, he might finally understand at least a piece of its mystery.


    Mentally entering his Soul Vault, he once again saw the now-black vortex spinning in the void, and the black plaque. As soon as he focused, a black strand of memoria drifted toward the plaque.


    And in the instant they touched, sealed information surged into Astar¡¯s mind. It wasn¡¯t the full technique¡ªhe had access only to the first level of the Corruption Devouring Technique. But it described how to control the energy, how to shape it. As if he''d received a unique code that rewrote the structure of energy itself.


    The moment his consciousness touched the technique, a strange tension seized his mind. At first it felt like thousands of tiny lightning bolts flickering across his brain¡ªthen something else. Something he¡¯d never felt before.


    ¡°It¡¯s like my brain is a cloud server, and someone just uploaded a file¡­¡± Astar thought, finding the closest metaphor. He was reading the first level of the technique without using his eyes, or any normal sense at all.


    The first paragraph of the text, like the title of some ancient scroll, echoed in his mind with a promise of overwhelming power:


    "Those who master the Corruption Devouring Technique shall wield greatness capable of eclipsing even the light of the Golden Mnemarchs... Our lineage has refined its craft for over a thousand years. But I was the one who found a path once thought impossible. This technique will become the force that restores balance to the world."


    Astar felt a strange stirring in his chest¡ªa blend of excitement and caution. He immediately realized this was something far greater than he had ever anticipated.


    Until now, he had thought of these techniques for developing memoria in terms of his own limited understanding. During the escape, he had witnessed the Gray Mnemarchs using something that resembled magic. Because of that, he¡¯d expected something similar from this technique¡ªlike throwing fire from his hands or some other flashy trick.


    But with each new line he read, the wave of horror rose higher.


    "However, this power comes at a cost. By activating the Corruption Devouring Technique, you have altered your very nature into something others deem impossible. Because of me, your soul now bears the imprint of the Abyss. From this point on, your Soul Vault becomes a vessel for the cursed matter¡ªabyssia! From now on, any memoria you absorb will be defiled and become part of that darkness¡­ part of the world¡¯s inverse balance!"


    Astar¡¯s eyes widened, and his breath caught. He was certain his heart skipped a beat. He tried to shut the tablet from his mind, to stop the reading, but the technique had already embedded itself into his Soul Vault like a parasite, rooting deep.


    ¡°This has to be a joke! My bloodline cursed me too?!¡± he shouted furiously, like a trapped animal.


    His memoria¡­ No, it wasn¡¯t even memoria anymore! Everything he had absorbed from stones in the mines had turned into something alien, something forbidden and destructive. Abyssia. That was the substance found in abyssals¡ªnever in the living, never in sentient beings!


    ¡°It¡¯s over. I¡¯m doomed¡­¡± the thought flashed through him. ¡°Abyssals can¡¯t even enter cities¡­ does that mean I¡¯m no longer meant to be part of civilization either?!¡±


    Astar could definitely feel that after his spiral of memoria had blackened, his strength had increased significantly. But that brought no comfort¡ªif anything, it now meant he might be severed from the entire world, like the abyssals themselves.


    Astar, calm down¡­ just breathe, just breathe¡­ First, understand the full scope of the information, and only then try to analyze it. Rushed conclusions only lead to mistakes and more problems, he whispered mentally, trying to hold onto reason. Panic clawed at him, but he knew he had to keep going.


    He directed his mind back to the tablet. The black lines on its surface pulsed, as if waiting for him to continue. His consciousness brushed against the technique again, and more of the text revealed itself.


    "The development of abyssia has always been deemed heretical¡ªa pursuit considered madness. Too many beings lost their minds, destroyed their souls, or turned into spawn of the void. But the Corruption Devouring Technique is different... If its true potential were understood, no exorcist would be able to resist the desire to claim it! Though for anyone but me and you, that is impossible."


    "Abyssia is the fuel for the Corruption Devouring Technique. You must draw it from voidspawn and other cursed sources to evolve your power. Memoria is now useless to you. Far too weak. Only abyssia can reveal the full power of this technique! Only it can truly cleanse the world!"


    Astar froze. His heart paused¡ªthen thundered. He clenched his teeth, feeling a surge of rage and despair.


    ¡°Exorcists? What the hell kind of exorcists?!¡± he hissed, unable to believe what he was reading. ¡°And what do you mean¡­ useless? Memoria is the foundation of everything in this world!¡±


    ¡°Shit¡­ and what the hell are ¡®spawn of the void¡¯ supposed to be? That¡¯s how he¡¯s referring to abyssals?!¡± he shouted, catching the obvious context of the message.


    His hands trembled. Memoria was the essence of life, its core. And now¡­ it meant nothing to him?


    But the next line crushed him:


    "Remember: protect your soul, for it was born in the Source of Memoria, and you are still connected to it. If you do not regularly consume abyssia, your control over it will begin to decay, and the Corruption Devouring Technique will weaken. In turn, abyssia will spiral out of control, corroding your soul, your mind, and your identity. Abyssia will become your master, and you¡ªits slave. Without regular sustenance, you will go mad and transform into one of the spawn of the void."


    Those words hit Astar like a bolt of lightning. His fists clenched, and a storm of fury boiled within him. He had always tried to maintain at least a shred of composure, even in this absurd world. But now¡­ now he wanted to scream, to tear the entire cavern apart.


    ¡°What the¡­ You people are just¡­¡± he shouted, unable to express his emotions clearly. Overwhelmed, he began pacing back and forth through the cave, doing anything he could to contain the eruption inside.


    ¡°Oh-ho-ho¡­ Just pray I never find you! I¡¯ll kill you with my own goddamn hands!¡± he roared, as if addressing his bloodline directly. ¡°This insane world! To hell with your memoria and abyssia! What the hell is this?!¡±


    The world blurred before his eyes. Everything he had dreamed of now seemed like a lie. A peaceful life? Freedom? Purpose? What could be further from reality than this? He wasn¡¯t just cursed by the technique. Its demands had chained his fate, dictated the rules by which he had to live.


    He approached the monster¡¯s skeleton, clenched his fist, and struck with all his might.


    Only he hadn¡¯t expected what would happen next¡­


    Shuuuv! The sound of something slicing through the air tore past him, followed instantly by an explosion. Ba-boom!


    A massive bone from the monster shattered into dust and shards, which slammed into the cave walls like shrapnel.


    For a split second, Astar¡¯s eyes widened ¡ª it was hard not to be stunned by something like that. But his rage burned too fiercely now for even a miracle to drown it out.


    "I''m not just trapped in this idiot of a world¡­ now I might go insane too! Just perfect!"


    And yet, despite all the horror, a shadow of fury began to rise in him, scorching away the remnants of fear. Rage at his ancestor, at fate, at his parents, at this strange, cruel world. But more than anything ¡ª absurd as it was ¡ª one realization stung him worse than anything else...


    He was infuriated by the idea that he would never get the peaceful, free life he¡¯d dreamed of. Even if he somehow found a way into a city, even if he managed to hide his nature¡­ then what?


    "Regularly absorb abyssia..." the words echoed through his head like a curse.


    "That means I¡¯ll become dependent on hunting abyssals or scavenging cursed objects and herbs that cost a damn fortune! Just amazing! My life is once again nothing but endless grind just to survive! Fuck!"


    He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms and leaving stinging marks.


    "I was a fool to hope I could start fresh and find something I actually wanted to do in this world..." he muttered, his voice shaking with fury as he paced in tight, agitated circles. "All those years clawing my way into the sunlight ¡ª gone! I escaped the mines and now this! And again, because of my parents! Or my bloodline ¡ª or whatever the hell this garbage is!"


    First, the endless work, stress, and sleepless nights on Earth, trying to grow his company. Then the slave labor in the mines, the desperate escape¡­ Just a day ago, he had dared to hope he and Dalanar would make it to the city, that things might finally turn around. He¡¯d even imagined becoming a hunter, or maybe a merchant. One way or another, Astar had no doubt in his abilities.


    But now, the image of the mine returned¡ªendless swings of the pickaxe, blood on his palms, dirt sunk deep into his pores, the screams of the overseers. He remembered the ones who died from exhaustion, those who broke themselves just to survive one more day.


    "And here I am again. Back in the cage of endless labor. And now I¡¯ll have to fight monsters, risk my life just to harvest this damned resource. All so I don¡¯t lose my mind. Fucking d¨¦j¨¤ vu..."


    Astar stopped, breathing hard. His rage had swelled in his chest, pressing out like it might burst him from the inside.


    Bam! He punched the cave wall with all his strength, and fine cracks spread across the stone.


    "This is just¡­ mockery," he said quietly, but there was steel in his voice. "No matter where I go, I¡¯m still a slave. On Earth I was a slave to money, just to buy my freedom and chase a dream. And here? I¡¯m a slave to this cursed power."


    And yet, beneath the fury, another thought was forming. Buried deep under the weight of his rage, it slowly rose to the surface. If he was doomed to live like this anyway¡­ maybe it was time to turn weakness into strength. Maybe he could use these cursed circumstances.


    "Fine¡­" he muttered, folding his arms over his chest. "Time to think..." he grumbled, finally sitting down, radiating a stormy aura of frustration like a stormcloud hanging over his head.


    Astar took a deep breath, forcing his mind back into focus. His body still trembled with fury, but his thoughts were starting to line up again.


    "Alright. Let¡¯s break this down..." he murmured, clutching his head in both hands. "The creator of this technique clearly interacted with others. That means he must¡¯ve lived in a city. And that, thank the stars, is hopeful."


    He closed his eyes, concentrating on the fragmented visions he¡¯d received when advancing to the Premarch stage. The image of a man in a long cloak flashed through his mind, moving through a place of towering architecture. It wasn¡¯t a cave, nor a forgotten village. It was a city. A real, large city. In the background, glowing structures stood tall ¡ª likely Memoria Temples, casting their protective barriers.


    "There¡¯s a chance the barrier won¡¯t stop me..." he muttered, furrowing his brow as doubt gnawed at him. "Maybe it¡¯s not as bad as it seems? If I can get inside the city, there might be ways to acquire abyssia. Find craftsmen who work with cursed items."


    "If that guy pulled it off, then I can too. I mean, I did live in the modern world ¡ª I must know something useful... Maybe I¡¯ll even have a competitive edge? Then again¡­ I don¡¯t know as much as I thought..." he mumbled. "When you¡¯ve got the internet, you feel a lot smarter..."


    He exhaled, leaning back against the cave wall. Finally, his thoughts began falling into a structured pattern.


    "Okay, what do we know?" he began, as if trying to organize everything out loud. "The technique only works with abyssia. Memoria is meaningless to me now. So to grow stronger, I need abyssals or infected objects. Fine. That part¡¯s clear."


    He paused, recalling the words he¡¯d read within the technique.


    "What''s the point of all this?" he muttered, frowning. "It clearly says my goal is to absorb abyssia until I form a core. Only then will I reach the stage of a Gray Mnemarch and unlock combat techniques¡­ and more answers. Maybe there¡¯s a way to weaken the curse? Right now I¡¯m only seeing the tip of the iceberg."


    The words echoed in his mind like a sentence. But despite that, he felt there had to be a deeper reason. Something that explained why his ancestor created this technique. Why he had been so certain of its importance to the world.


    "There was something else... about my soul and a connection to the Source of Memoria..." he said aloud, lifting his gaze to the glowing stalactites above. "Maybe that¡¯s the reason I can still enter cities?"


    He drew a deep breath and straightened up, his gaze sharpening, more focused than before.


    "Alright, step one: I need to survive. Step two: find a way into a city. And step three..." he smirked, glancing at the monster¡¯s skeleton, "figure out how much cursed items are worth in this world. If I can at least work to keep myself alive... then I¡¯ll do it! Wouldn¡¯t be the first time!"


    At that moment, Astar¡¯s eyes returned to the black core, still lying peacefully within the skeleton, a faint mist of dark vapor curling from its surface.


    "If abyssia makes me stronger¡­ then let¡¯s try using this Corruption Devouring Technique and see what happens."


    Astar walked toward the skeleton with quick, decisive steps, as if afraid he¡¯d lose his nerve if he hesitated. His heart pounded, but not from fear ¡ª it was adrenaline, pulsing with a grim excitement. He reached the remains, clenched his fist, and delivered another crushing blow.


    Boom! ¡ª the bone exploded into dust, and shards of it clattered against the cave walls in a shower of brittle debris.


    When the core was finally exposed, Astar grabbed it without ceremony. He clenched his teeth, bracing for another wave of agony like last time. But¡­ nothing happened.


    "What the¡­?" he muttered, surprised, as he held the core in his hand. The thick, black substance inside had stilled, almost as if it were observing him in return. "Huh. That¡¯s¡­ unexpected."


    A tremor ran through him, not from pain ¡ª but anticipation.


    "Alright¡­ let¡¯s see what I can do now," he whispered, closing his eyes and focusing. In his mind¡¯s eye, the vortex of abyssia within his Soul Vault flared to life. Astar focused on the technique now fused with his being and activated it. It was a strange sensation ¡ª like instinctively knowing how to wag a tail he¡¯d never had.


    The vortex stirred in response to his will. The abyssia within the core began to move, slowly at first, then faster, until the two flows synchronized in a mirrored rhythm.


    Shuuuv... A thin stream of black energy spilled from the core and entered his body through his hand.


    Astar froze, expecting the familiar discomfort ¡ª but instead, a warm, almost euphoric wave spread through him. It felt like a gulp of cold water on a blazing day, or a breath of fresh air after hours in a stifling room. Every cell in his body felt renewed, his fatigue washed away in an instant.


    "What the hell..." he murmured, unable to hide his astonishment. The energy flowed through him like liquid strength. Abyssia ¡ª the force he had feared ¡ª wasn¡¯t hurting him now. It was soothing him. "This¡­ this is insane! It¡¯s way stronger than any crystal I absorbed back in the mine!"


    The vortex in his Soul Vault burned brighter, flooding with new energy. Each wisp of abyssia flowed into him with mesmerizing ease, merging with the whole.


    "If this is the price for using the technique¡­" he muttered, feeling his body fill with new strength, "then maybe it¡¯s not such a bad deal."


    He looked down at his hands, still pulsing with energy.


    His awareness shifted back to the abyssal vortex raging inside the Vault. Astar could feel it ¡ª this energy that had once seemed alien and hostile was becoming a part of him. It spun faster, thickening and coiling.


    At first, it was wild and chaotic ¡ª but gradually, its motion became more focused, more deliberate, as if guided by invisible hands. At the vortex¡¯s core, something new began to form ¡ª a small sphere, tiny but dense, radiating staggering power.


    "A core¡­" Astar whispered, sensing the change deep within. It felt like he was nearing a new threshold. But immediately, he also realized something else: despite the progress, a true core was still a long way off.


    This is only the beginning, the thought flashed through his mind. Along with the first level of the technique, he had received instructions on how to advance it. And somehow, he just knew ¡ª a completed core would look vastly different¡­ and be infinitely stronger.


    "Alright¡­" he muttered, opening his eyes. "From what I understand, reaching the stage of a Gray Mnemarch is a long and grueling process. Even if I find dozens of these cores, it won¡¯t be enough."


    "The Corruption Devouring Technique..." he said aloud. "One way or another, I¡¯m now bound to absorbing abyssia. Earning money and living quietly as a rich mortal? That¡¯s off the table¡­ Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something," he added, smirking darkly at himself.


    Astar continued holding the core in his hand, feeling the streams of abyssia steadily flowing into his Soul Vault. The vortex within him grew denser, mesmerizing in its raw power. But then, suddenly, he noticed something strange ¡ª the core in his palm was changing.


    What had once been dark and ominous was now growing lighter. The black mist that had swirled inside began to dissipate, replaced by a pure glow. Astar instinctively held his breath, watching the transformation unfold before his eyes. The core¡¯s cracked, shadowy surface became smooth and translucent, like flawless crystal. From its depths, a soft white-blue light began to shine.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± he exhaled, sensing the vortex of abyssia inside him begin to slow, stabilizing.


    Now the core, which moments ago had radiated menace, had become a source of astonishing energy. Astar realized that, somehow, memoria had formed within him ¡ª pure, potent, and impossibly strong. Or rather¡­ it had always been there, corrupted and buried beneath the abyssia. And there was far more of it than in any of the crystals he¡¯d mined in the pits.


    His eyes widened. Words caught in his throat. He couldn¡¯t believe what he was sensing.


    ¡°Memoria¡­¡± he whispered, feeling how the core¡¯s power had completely transformed. ¡°So I don¡¯t just absorb abyssia¡­ I purify cursed objects?¡±


    He ran his fingers over the crystal in awe, feeling its radiance. It no longer felt like a cursed object. It had become something else entirely ¡ª something clean, like it had been pulled straight from the Source of Memoria itself.


    Astar¡¯s face twisted into a sly, almost predatory grin.


    ¡°Ha... ha-ha!¡± He laughed shortly, staring into the light. ¡°There was something in the technique¡­ about exorcism,¡± he muttered, recalling the earlier words. ¡°In our world, that term was used for religious rites. But maybe here¡­ it means something else entirely?¡±


    He gripped the crystal tighter, his thoughts rushing into form.


    ¡°Pure memoria. And in this volume¡­¡± he murmured, voice low, but trembling with concealed excitement. Could it be? Could these purified cores be sold¡­ for a fortune?


    Astar looked again at the core, then down at his hand, feeling a rising confidence swell within.


    ¡°Well then¡­ this so-called cursed technique might not be such a curse after all. If I can purify cursed objects¡­ this could be a business. Or even a weapon.¡±


    His grin grew wider, and a sharp gleam lit his eyes. It was as if something old within him ¡ª that part of him that once thrived on competition and ¡°the game¡± ¡ª had begun to stir again. He could smell opportunity.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have to rethink my opinion of you, ancestor,¡± Astar said smugly. ¡°But let¡¯s see if you really told me everything¡­¡±


    He slowly lifted the core, its white-blue glow casting soft light across the cave walls. His gaze bore into the crystal as his thoughts echoed in his mind: ¡°The technique says memoria is useless to me¡­ But what happens if I try to absorb it anyway?¡±


    He drew a deep breath and focused, channeling his will toward the core. Mentally activating the technique, he tried to pull the memoria into himself, like testing the reaction of his own body.


    At first, everything seemed normal ¡ª energy began to flow into his Soul Vault in a thin, nearly imperceptible stream. Its structure was airy, delicate¡­ different from the crude, heavy force of abyssia.


    But almost immediately, he felt resistance. The stream slowed, and the process became a struggle. The memoria moved through his body as if squeezing through channels too narrow to pass. Astar winced, discomfort flaring through him.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± he hissed through clenched teeth.


    Gradually, the energy reached the vortex within the Vault ¡ª but instead of merging like abyssia, it began to shift. The white-blue memoria started to unravel, losing its brilliance, darkening¡­ transforming into the very same abyssia he had just purified.


    Astar froze, his breath caught in his throat. He watched in disbelief, realizing he had no control over it.


    ¡°Even this?¡± he muttered, staring at the core.


    He tried again ¡ª harder this time ¡ª pushing the flow, hoping speed would change the outcome. But the result was the same: the memoria resisted him, as if his body no longer recognized it as nourishment. And once it reached the vortex, it curdled¡­ and turned to abyssia.


    "The old man wasn¡¯t lying. This is pretty much useless," he muttered, lowering the hand holding the core. "If I keep absorbing memoria at this pace, I¡¯ll die of exhaustion long before I get anything out of it."


    Astar looked at the crystal with new understanding. Even if memoria didn¡¯t suit him anymore, that didn¡¯t make it worthless.


    "Well then..." he smirked, tightening his grip on the core. "Looks like I¡¯ve stumbled onto a new niche to explore. Maybe everything that¡¯s happened isn¡¯t as catastrophic as it seemed..."


    At that moment, unexpectedly, Astar felt a strange, predatory curiosity begin to stir inside him. It was something he hadn¡¯t felt in years. The fact that such traumatic events had awakened it again felt paradoxical.


    He took a deep breath, feeling the new power pulsing through his body. The abyssia now flowing in his Soul Vault filled him with a strength he never thought possible. The despair had passed, replaced by a firm confidence. He gripped the core tighter, still feeling its warmth.


    "There¡¯s a chance," he muttered, his voice calm and steady. "With the Corruption Devouring Technique, I might just be able to hunt... If I absorb more cores and grow stronger, reaching the city could be possible."


    "Besides, I have no idea where I am ¡ª which means I need to scout the area. Wandering aimlessly through the forest is pointless until I find a road. At least here I¡¯ve got shelter..."


    His gaze swept over the remains scattered through the cave as he began searching for anything useful. Amidst the wreckage and dust, he caught the faint glint of broken weapons ¡ª likely once belonging to the monster¡¯s unfortunate victims.


    Then, something caught his eye ¡ª a spear. Simple, but sturdy. Its shaft, made of dark wood, had survived surprisingly well, and the black metal tip still looked sharp and deadly.


    "Now that could come in handy," he said, stepping closer. Astar picked it up, his hands instinctively testing the balance. He didn¡¯t know much about weapons, but the spear felt light and reliable.


    Though¡­ that lightness likely came from his own newfound strength. No ordinary spear should have remained so well preserved.


    "Perfect for me. I¡¯ll stab those bastards from a distance. No need to get close to those damn monsters. I once heard that even a peasant with a spear could take on a trained warrior¡­ Though that always sounded like total nonsense..."


    His eyes drifted to the torn and dirty clothes among the bones ¡ª all that was left of those the beast had torn apart. Most of the fabric was in tatters, but a few pieces still seemed salvageable.


    Astar knelt and examined the scraps. One tattered cloak or mantle looked intact enough to be wearable. Nearby, a worn belt with a small pouch still clung to it. Inside, he found a few metal coins made from some strange gray alloy.


    On one side was an ornate glyph that read "Church of Memoria." The other bore a swirling vortex and tiny flames ¡ª likely symbolizing the Source of Memoria, the place all those who reached the Premarch stage were said to ascend to.


    "Currency, huh?" he muttered, tossing one of the coins into the air and catching it. "Chances are they¡¯re still in use. Or at the very least, I can trade them for something useful."


    He slung the spear over his shoulder, secured the pouch to his belt, and glanced around the cave. With every passing minute, he found more usable clothing. As filthy as it was, it was still better than his rags from the mine.


    "If I do find a road... it¡¯d be a terrible idea to go walking around dressed like a mine slave..." Astar mumbled, pulling on a pair of pants. "Better to look like a wandering hunter than a fugitive. Never know if someone might try to drag me back..."


    Only after changing completely did Astar finally turn toward the exit, where sunlight still streamed in.


    "First step ¡ª get out of here and figure out where I am," he said to himself, his voice firm. "Also, I need to eat. I completely forgot with all the stress... Hopefully, with my current strength, I can catch something."


    Gathering everything that might be useful, Astar headed for the cave¡¯s exit. He had a spear in his hand, and a clear plan in his mind: find food, locate a road, and ideally, use his new power to kill another abyssal. If he could grow stronger and get used to fighting, he¡¯d be able to start playing this game on his own terms.


    As he stepped into the light, Astar understood perfectly ¡ª the road to the city would be far more difficult and treacherous than he¡¯d imagined during the escape. But now, at least, he knew: thanks to abyssia and the Corruption Devouring Technique, his strength had grown ¡ª and more importantly, for the first time, he had a real plan, and a goal. That combination alone did more for his morale than anything he¡¯d felt since waking up in this nightmare of a world.

 Chapter 9 — Hunting and Reconnaissance

    Astar stepped out of the cave with caution, feeling the sunlight pierce through his skin and burn his eyes, which had grown used to the twilight. He raised a hand to shield his face, giving himself time to adjust to the brightness of the outside world. Before him stretched that same strange forest once again. This place seemed unlike anything he had ever seen ¡ª even in photographs or videos back on Earth.


    Towering trees with gnarled, knotted trunks stood like ancient giants, their branches reaching toward the sky to form a dense green canopy overhead. Yet the foliage shimmered with soft shades of blue. Strange mossy growths clung to the trunks, glowing faintly with a dull azure light. Barely visible by day, their glow left the impression of some hidden magic coursing through the land itself.


    The forest was full of sounds, but none familiar. Instead of the rustling of leaves or birdcalls, Astar heard sharp, clicking noises from above. At times, it seemed as if something high in the trees was whispering, though he could see no one. From below came the steady hum of insects, their movements synchronized and rhythmic.


    Every step on the soft forest floor felt like a leap into the unknown. Instead of grass, translucent plants with glowing blue veins grew underfoot. When he brushed against one, it recoiled with a faint hiss and vanished into the ground.


    "What the hell..." Astar muttered, jerking his hand back. "The deeper into the forest, the stranger everything gets... Near the mine it wasn¡¯t this weird..."


    This forest wasn¡¯t just unfamiliar. It breathed, whispered, lived with a rhythm of its own. He hadn¡¯t seen a single creature yet, aside from rare glimpses of insects that disappeared before he could get a good look. But even so, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something ¡ª or someone ¡ª was watching him.


    His mind kept running on autopilot. A piece of advice from a long-forgotten survival video resurfaced, like a lifeline in this bizarre and threatening world.


    He scratched a notch into the bark of a nearby tree using the sharp tip of his spear. A faint scent of sap drifted into the air.


    "Better safe than sorry," he muttered.


    His thoughts returned to the basics: water and food. Those needs pounded in his head like drums. There was no point continuing if he couldn¡¯t survive a few days out here. He knew that the abyssia was sustaining him to some extent, but it didn¡¯t erase the basic needs of the body. Even if he wanted to set off for the city, securing provisions came first.


    Astar continued deeper into the woods, straining to catch the sound of a river or a stream. The notches he carved into trees became his lifeline through the chaos.


    "I don¡¯t know how things work here or what my body¡¯s even capable of... But if I find a river, would it be safe to drink from it? If not, can I even boil water here? Complicated..." Thoughts swirled in his mind as he tried to calculate the risks.


    Suddenly, a distant rumble reached him ¡ª a mix between a beast¡¯s low growl and the crack of breaking branches. Astar froze, tightening his grip on the spear.


    "Doesn¡¯t sound like that monster," he exhaled, glancing around.


    But something stirred inside him. His new strength, though still untested, gave him confidence. For the first time, he didn¡¯t feel like a helpless victim. He felt like someone who could fight back.


    "I¡¯ll just take a look from a distance..." he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow and moving toward the sound.


    Astar crept forward slowly and carefully, every step measured. The notches on the trees grew closer together now ¡ª if he had to run, he needed a clear path back. The spear gave him a bit of comfort, but every shifting shadow between the trees made his heart clench. He was no hunter, and he didn¡¯t feel at ease pretending to be one. If not for his newfound strength, he¡¯d probably be trembling.


    The growl faded, and the forest returned to its usual cacophony. But soon the sounds began to shift. Among the clicks and rustles, he caught the soft splashing of water.


    "A water source? Perfect," Astar thought, and the tension in his body eased a little. Water could solve several of his problems at once.


    As he pushed forward, the forest began to thin, and the light grew stronger. Sunbeams filtered through the canopy, revealing a crystal-clear lake surrounded by smooth stones and thick vegetation. The water sparkled, reflecting the green and bluish hues of the leaves.


    And then he saw it...


    By the water stood a creature unlike anything he could have imagined, even in his strangest fantasies. At first glance, it resembled a calf ¡ª a stocky body with short, stubby legs. But a closer look quickly shattered the illusion. It had no fur. Its skin was smooth, coated in a thin, almost pearlescent layer. Its head was massive, and instead of a mouth, it had short tentacles writhing in the air, as if searching for unseen prey.


    "Judging by its aura, it¡¯s not an abyssal¡­ Could it really be just an animal?"


    Astar froze, an instinctive curiosity flaring in his chest. The creature made no sound, occasionally dipping its tentacles into the water with gentle splashes. Its movements were slow, almost lazy ¡ª but Astar wasn¡¯t ready to relax just yet.


    "Yeah, some ''cow'' this is," he muttered under his breath.


    His mind wavered between curiosity and caution. The creature didn¡¯t look aggressive, but in this world, appearances could be deceiving. Astar tightened his grip on the spear again, feeling his body tense, bracing for the worst.


    He stepped to the side, slipping behind the nearest tree. He needed a plan. Maybe the creature would make a nutritious dinner¡ªor maybe it was a source of danger. He squinted, watching how its tentacles rose effortlessly from the water, drops sparkling in the sunlight.


    ¡°If it¡¯s drinking from this pond, then maybe I can too¡­¡± the thought flickered.


    He stood there for several minutes, simply observing. His breathing slowed, becoming nearly silent. Gradually, Astar began to notice the details. Around the lake were several tracks disappearing into the forest. This creature clearly wasn¡¯t alone.


    ¡°Back on Earth, they used to say predators rarely attack near water¡­ Wonder how true that is here?¡± he thought.


    ¡°As disgusting as it might be, I need to survive,¡± he decided, lifting the spear. ¡°Better to test my strength on this thing than run straight into an abyssal¡­¡±


    Astar slowly raised the spear, never taking his eyes off the strange creature. His body tensed; every muscle hummed with a strange clarity. He could feel his breath slowing, his heartbeat steady and even, his fingers tightening around the shaft. Every part of him aligned with a single purpose¡ªkill.


    What shocked him most was how natural it all felt. The movements weren¡¯t just intuitive; they were precise. Astar realized that he had never felt this way before¡ªthe strength of abyssia and the technique had clearly reshaped his body. Once, he would¡¯ve thrown the spear blindly. Now, he could feel exactly how and with what force to move his arm.


    The spear angled slightly backward, the tension just right. He immediately knew this throw would hit the creature¡¯s head. His brain wasn¡¯t calculating¡ªit simply knew.


    ¡°If it attacks, I¡¯ll just run,¡± he whispered, locking into position.


    The creature continued to drink from the lake, completely unaware of the hidden threat. Its tentacles moved lazily, and its bulky body swayed gently. It had no idea it was seconds from death.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m imagining things? I couldn¡¯t have changed this much since arriving in this strange world¡­¡± a stray thought surfaced.


    Astar inhaled deeply. His body felt like it was drawing power from the world around him¡ªevery sound, every shadow, every minute detail. His hands radiated a pleasant warmth; the spear felt like an extension of his will. In that moment, abyssia flowed through him like a surge of power. Gray mist began to seep from beneath his skin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fail me,¡± he whispered¡ªand with a sharp motion, he let the spear fly.


    Shuuuv! the weapon tore from his hands at incredible speed. Time seemed to slow, leaving only the whistle of the shaft slicing through the air. Astar stared forward, stunned. It all happened in an instant.


    The spear sliced the air with a deafening hiss, meeting no resistance. The next moment, the creature¡¯s head exploded into a bloody spray.


    Paf! the detonation of flesh and bone was so violent that Astar instinctively flinched, memories of the metallic tang of blood rushing back to him.


    But it wasn¡¯t over. The spear, having torn through the creature¡¯s skull, slammed into the rock wall behind it with monstrous force.


    Ba-baam! the impact cracked the stone like an explosion, flinging shards and rubble in every direction. The sharp crack echoed through the forest, and the lake¡¯s surface rippled violently in its wake.


    Astar stood frozen, breath caught in his chest. The entire scene was so surreal that it took a moment for his brain to catch up.


    ¡°Wh¡ªwhat the hell?!¡± he whispered, staring at the destruction.


    The creature¡¯s remains scattered across the shore and into the water. Strange fish¡ªsomething between eels and piranhas¡ªdarted to the surface. They tore into the floating bits of meat with snapping jaws, their teeth crunching through flesh and bone.


    ¡°Did I do that?¡± Astar breathed, glancing down at his hands.


    His palms trembled slightly¡ªnot from fear, but from the realization of the strength now coursing through his veins. He could feel the abyssia churning inside him like an unstoppable force of nature.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t normal¡­ I already felt superhuman when I absorbed memoria, but this¡­ I¡¯ve become even stronger,¡± the thought struck.


    He stepped closer to the water, watching the fish devour every last scrap of flesh. His heart pounded wildly, yet his mind strained to adapt to this new reality.


    ¡°Even if I¡¯ve become stronger¡­ it¡¯s terrifying,¡± he murmured, shifting his gaze to the shattered rock wall.


    The shattered portion revealed the inner layers of stone. Fragments of rock lay scattered across the shore, some wedged into the nearby vegetation. This hadn¡¯t been an ordinary throw¡ªthe spear had become a weapon of destruction, capable of tearing apart both flesh and earth.


    But he didn¡¯t have time to reflect.


    Raaaar! The silence of the forest was shattered by a guttural roar, rising from the depths of the trees. Astar froze, whipping his head toward the sound. His heart pounded again, and his fingers instinctively reached for the cliffside.


    ¡°Shit! That explosion must¡¯ve attracted something bigger!¡± flashed through his mind.


    Ra-ar! The roar came again, louder and closer this time. Astar tensed and immediately looked toward his spear. If it came to a fight, he needed that weapon.


    He bolted toward the corpse of the slain creature, his legs springing off the ground as he leapt over scattered remains of flesh and shattered rock. Adrenaline surged through his veins¡ªevery thought and motion focused solely on retrieving his spear.


    He landed beside the cliff and, without hesitation, grabbed the shaft, now buried deep in the cracked stone. Muscles straining, he yanked with all his might, and with a thunderous crack, the weapon came free. Pebbles and dust rained down, the sound echoing through the forest.


    ¡°It¡¯s intact!¡± Astar muttered in surprise, examining the spear. Even after such a devastating impact, there wasn¡¯t a single crack on it¡ªthe tip gleamed in the sunlight as if freshly forged.


    But before he could fully process the extent of his power, a new nightmare emerged from the forest. At first, he heard it¡ªdull, thunderous footsteps that made the earth subtly tremble. Then came a wet, slurping noise, and a figure stepped onto the shore¡ªan abomination born of nightmares.


    The creature resembled a massive gorilla, easily three meters tall. Its body, draped in scraps of charred, blackened flesh, exposed bones in places¡ªjagged white shards jutting out like spears. A single, enormous eye occupied the center of its monstrous head, and within that eye swirled countless pupils, each moving independently, scanning the surroundings.


    Thick, black smoke billowed from its mouth, curling into the air as if the creature was burning from the inside. Bits of mangled flesh still clung between its teeth¡ªthe remains of a smaller animal being crunched with sickening snaps. Crimson streaks dripped from its maw, staining its grotesque face, neck, and chest.


    ¡°¡­Shit. That¡¯s definitely an abyssal,¡± Astar exhaled, gripping the spear with both hands.


    The gorilla halted and lifted its head. Its single eye froze for a moment¡ªthen all the pupils locked onto Astar. It let out a low, guttural growl that sent a tremor down his spine.


    ¡°Feels like¡­ it¡¯s at the Premarch stage,¡± the thought struck him, as if he sensed the monster¡¯s power. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling¡ªlike he could instinctively gauge his opponent¡¯s level.


    Doom! The creature took a step forward, its massive clawed limbs leaving deep imprints in the soil. The smoke pouring from its jaws thickened, filling the air with a sour, suffocating stench.


    It advanced another few paces¡ªthen froze. As it drew closer, it seemed to pause, studying Astar. A strange silence hung between them, broken only by the faint crackling of the smoke escaping its mouth.


    The air grew heavy with tension. Astar¡¯s muscles were taut, the spear steady in his grasp. But the monster didn¡¯t strike.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t it attacking?¡± the thought nagged at him.


    The gorilla blinked, its pupils shifting erratically, as though analyzing its surroundings. It twitched, growling low, but didn¡¯t charge. Instead, it tilted its head to the side, as if struggling to comprehend what it saw.


    ¡°It¡¯s uncertain¡­ But why?¡± Astar felt the abyssia within him stir again, as though sensing the threat.


    The creature moved once more, taking a slow step closer. Now it began circling him, never breaking eye contact. Its massive jaw parted, revealing blood-slicked teeth that still dripped with gore. But still, the monster hesitated.


    ¡°Because of the abyssia¡­ It thinks I¡¯m one of them,¡± the realization struck Astar like a lightning bolt.


    The feeling that he was no longer just human¡ªbut something else, something cursed¡ªwashed over him. Not long ago, the thought had terrified him. But now¡­ it gave him hope.


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    But it didn¡¯t last long.


    Raaaar! The gorilla suddenly let out a piercing roar, shattering the forest silence. Its mouth yawned wide, spewing clouds of black smoke that whirled through the air like a living storm. The sound was so powerful it felt as though the earth itself trembled.


    ¡°She figured it out¡­ I¡¯m not one of them,¡± Astar muttered through clenched teeth.


    The monster suddenly dropped to its front limbs and charged, its movements so fast it was as if a raging bull had launched itself at Astar.


    He barely had time to raise his spear, bracing for the first blow¡­


    But the gorilla was upon him before he could even blink. Its massive arms, studded with jagged bone shards, swung through the air in a wide arc. Astar tried to block the strike with his spear, but his inexperience betrayed him. The shaft slipped to the side, unable to absorb the full force of the attack.


    Boom! Two colossal limbs slammed into his chest with terrifying power. Astar felt the air ripped from his lungs as his body was lifted off the ground. Pain shot through his ribcage, the world dissolving into a blinding white roar.


    "Gha!" he gasped, feeling the earth vanish beneath him.


    Shuuv! Boom! His body flew across the lake like a cannonball. Cold spray splashed his face as he sailed over the water¡¯s surface¡ªthen his back smashed into the trunk of an enormous tree with a sickening crack.


    "Ugh¡­" Astar groaned, sliding down the bark, leaving a deep dent behind.


    His spear slipped from his hand, and he doubled over in pain, struggling to breathe. The world spun around him, his ears rang, and everything blurred. He could barely focus as dull pain throbbed through every part of him.


    The gorilla let out a low growl, its hulking shape looming on the opposite shore. It stood there, seemingly assessing the result of its strike, its smoldering mouth parting to reveal rows of fangs still wet with blood.


    Astar, panting, raised a trembling hand and spat out the warm, metallic taste of blood. He crawled away from the tree, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through his body. Yet the ringing in his ears faded faster than it should have, and the haze in his vision cleared at an unnatural pace.


    He froze. His gaze dropped to his chest¡ªwhere just a moment ago, he was certain his ribs had been crushed. His hands clutched at his sides in disbelief.


    ¡°What the¡­ hell¡­¡± he whispered, still dazed, before his voice cracked into a shout. ¡°I¡¯m alive?!¡±


    His fingers ran over his ribcage, searching for breaks. Despite the force of the impact, nothing felt broken. His body ached fiercely, but not with the kind of pain that came from internal damage or shattered bones.


    ¡°How is that possible?!¡± he shouted, lifting his gaze toward the gorilla, who was still watching him from across the lake, its breath ragged.


    A sharp dissonance tore through his thoughts. He knew that a hit like that¡ªon Earth¡ªwould¡¯ve killed him instantly, would¡¯ve shattered his skeleton like porcelain. It was like being struck by a speeding car. Back then, death would¡¯ve been inevitable. But now¡­


    ¡°Physical resilience scales with power¡­ makes sense¡­¡± he muttered, pressing his chest. He could have sworn his insides had been pulped¡ªbut instead, here he was, breathing, standing, not even critically wounded.


    Still gasping, Astar looked down at his hands. The abyssia pulsed within him again, slowly spreading through his body, filling every cell.


    ¡°In that case,¡± he murmured, wiping blood from his chin, ¡°there¡¯s no need to be that afraid¡­¡±


    The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating. He had survived something no ordinary human could. His body no longer followed the rules of the world he¡¯d once known.


    But there was no time to dwell on it. The gorilla let out a piercing roar, its bone-studded arms flailing. It was preparing to charge again¡ªand this time, it wouldn¡¯t give him a second chance.


    Astar clenched his teeth, his eyes darting to the spear lying nearby. He lunged for it, snatching it up with renewed purpose.


    He straightened, ignoring the pain still radiating through his body. Something had changed inside him. The fear that had gripped him moments ago was beginning to fade. And this wasn¡¯t the usual forced bravery¡ªthis was different. As if his very instincts were being rewritten. As if something dormant inside him had begun to stir.


    ¡°I can fight¡­¡± the thought raced through his mind. ¡°This damned gorilla won¡¯t kill me!¡±


    The idea, so simple and rational, didn¡¯t sound like calm reasoning. It sounded like a call¡ªsomething deep and primal rising from within. The abyssia coursing through him didn¡¯t just power his limbs. It seemed to affect his very mind, his very will.


    ¡°Besides¡­ the Corruption Devouring Technique requires abyssia,¡± he muttered, a strange, foreign feeling rising in his chest. ¡°Along with food and water, I need abyssal cores¡­¡±


    It wasn¡¯t rage. It wasn¡¯t bloodlust. It was something calmer. Colder. But solid. His mind was beginning to adapt to this new reality¡ªjust as the body adjusts to a new climate.


    The gorilla roared again, its hulking form tensing for a charge. Smoke coiled from its mouth in thick spirals, forming a menacing halo around it. But Astar now looked at it differently. His gaze held a strange, almost tranquil focus.


    "Not long ago, I skewered an abyssal that was just as strong as this gorilla¡­ and back then, I hadn¡¯t even activated my technique¡­ On top of that, my body still held memoria, not abyssia," Astar suddenly realized. "If that¡¯s the case, defending against this brute shouldn¡¯t be a problem..."


    His body, burning with adrenaline, seemed to know what to do on its own. The abyssia in his veins began to dictate the rhythm of his movements, and in that moment, Astar understood ¡ª he was ready not just to defend, but to strike.


    Dum-dum! The gorilla burst forward, its feet pounding the ground like war drums as it thundered around the lake. It was as if the very earth recoiled beneath its weight. But Astar didn¡¯t move. He waited, letting the strength of his new body take over. His breathing slowed, deep and steady.


    "Let¡¯s try that again¡­" he murmured as her smoking silhouette barreled closer.


    The gorilla charged straight at him, her massive form shaking the ground with every step. Black smoke poured from her gaping jaws like poisonous fog. She was more terrifying than any beast Astar had seen on Earth, but strangely, he felt no fear.


    He gripped the spear tightly, focusing all his strength and will. The abyssia surged through him, reinforcing every muscle and nerve. His body tensed as he raised the spear, his mind cold and calculating.


    When the gorilla entered throwing range, he jerked the spear back. Every fiber of his being screamed one thing: ¡°Strike now!¡±


    "Die!" Astar roared, hurling the weapon with all his might.


    Shuuv! The spear tore from his hand with a sharp whistle, slicing through the air. It moved so fast it left a faint trail, still misted with blood from the last kill.


    Paff! The gorilla¡¯s skull exploded as the spear punched clean through. A deafening crash followed, blood and gore spraying in every direction.


    Everything fell silent¡­ The smoke curling from her jaw stopped instantly.


    Her massive body froze ¡ª and then collapsed to the ground with a dull, final thud:


    Ba-bam¡­


    Astar stood, panting, watching the dust rise from the fallen abyssal. Even this monstrous creature, which had seemed invincible, couldn¡¯t withstand the force of his strike.


    ¡°¡­Damn,¡± he muttered, feeling the tension drain from his muscles.


    But something inside him had changed. As he stared at the aftermath, he realized that with each passing moment, his fear was fading ¡ª replaced by a growing confidence. This world, so full of deadly threats, no longer felt so impossible to face. In fact¡­ he was beginning to enjoy this feeling. Like he¡¯d returned to something familiar ¡ª something he was meant for.


    "Where does my power end now? If I killed a creature at the Premarch stage so easily¡­ Could I take on a Gray Mnemarch?" he wondered aloud, a faint smile tugging at his lips.


    He didn¡¯t even notice the subtle shift in his mindset ¡ª as if, by returning to this world, he was reclaiming something that had always been missing on Earth. Or maybe¡­ he was only now discovering it.


    But then Astar cursed sharply, realizing his weapon had flown somewhere deep into the forest.


    "Goddamn it!" he barked. "My spear!"


    He wiped sweat and blood from his face and glanced toward the trees where it had vanished.


    For a moment, he stood frozen, overwhelmed by a strange feeling of closeness. The weapon, plain at first glance, had become something more than just a tool of survival. It was his first real weapon in this world ¡ª a symbol of the power he was only beginning to grasp.


    ¡°I can¡¯t lose it,¡± the thought struck him.


    Without hesitation, Astar bolted into the forest after it, leaping over roots and weaving between trees. With each step, his breathing grew steadier. His body seemed to know exactly where to go, and only one thought pulsed through his mind: ¡°Find the spear.¡±


    He felt an odd sense of connection to it ¡ª like it had become a companion. It made no logical sense, but he¡¯d already learned that many things in this world defied logic.


    "I¡¯m not letting you get lost in this forest," he muttered, scanning the undergrowth.


    And then, just ahead, something familiar glinted in the brush. The spear had lodged itself in a tree behind a thicket, buried halfway into the trunk.


    "There you are."


    Astar quickly approached the spear, grabbed the shaft with both hands, and yanked it out of the tree with effort. The metal glinted in the sunlight, and he let out a relieved breath.


    "You did your job well, buddy," he muttered, inspecting the tip. Despite the impact and destruction it had caused, the spear remained in perfect condition.


    Wasting no time, he immediately turned and ran back toward the lake. Each step echoed with a dull ache through his body. Apparently, the gorilla had managed to injure him after all¡ªand it became painfully clear now that the adrenaline had faded and the abyssia had returned to his Soul Vault.


    "I didn¡¯t hunt it just for sport," he said. "I need to salvage anything useful."


    When he returned, the lake was still calm, though streaks of the gorilla¡¯s blood now darkened its surface. The strange fish circling near the top of the water seemed disturbed by the scent, avoiding the spreading blotch entirely.


    Astar headed straight for the dead body of the abyssal. It lay motionless on the ground, massive and still. Its smoking aura had already dissipated.


    "Alright, this is going to be disgusting¡­ but there¡¯s no choice," he muttered, wrinkling his nose.


    He gripped the spear tighter and began cutting into the gorilla¡¯s flesh. The skin was thick and rubbery, tearing apart with a wet, squelching noise. The spear, despite its crude appearance, cut through with surprising ease¡ªits edge responding well to the strength Astar now possessed.


    His hands were soon covered in blood and slime. The stench of the corpse grew stronger with every movement, making him grimace. The creature didn¡¯t smell like a normal animal¡ªits innards reeked of rot and something acidic.


    "The core should be in the chest, right?" he muttered, digging deeper into the tissue.


    Chwak! Crunch! A few more strokes, and his effort was rewarded. Beneath layers of muscle and bone, he finally felt a smooth, solid surface. The core. It glimmered with a dim black light, encased in a blood-slick membrane. It was smaller than the one he¡¯d taken from the skeleton in the cave.


    "Got it," Astar exhaled, pulling it free. He quickly cleaned off the chunks of flesh and held it up.


    The abyssia inside him stirred in response, pulsing softly as soon as his fingers touched the core. This was more than a trophy. It was another source of fuel¡ªjust like food.


    "I won¡¯t rush into absorbing you¡­ I need to see how long I can last without abyssia," he muttered, wrapping the core in a scrap of clothing.


    Now that the fight was over, Astar noticed that the vortex of abyssia within his Soul Vault had shrunk slightly but was slowly beginning to replenish. The process was slow¡ªbut noticeable.


    Seeing the pattern, he reasoned it would be wise not to let himself hit empty during battle. That could have consequences he wasn¡¯t ready for.


    "When I get back to the cave, I¡¯ll try draining all the abyssia. If the curse doesn¡¯t start right away, that¡¯s a good sign¡­ Then I¡¯ll need to figure out exactly how long I can go without absorbing it from cursed items."


    Astar dragged the gorilla¡¯s carcass away from the lake, not wanting its blood to contaminate the water. From the smell and texture, he figured the flesh of an abyssal was toxic. The body was enormous, but with his new strength, the task was manageable.


    "Rot here," he muttered, casting one last glance at the gorilla.


    Then he turned toward the carcass of the strange ¡°cow.¡± Despite its bizarre appearance, it looked far less revolting than the gorilla. Astar grabbed one of its hooves and began dragging the body behind him.


    "Come on, you¡¯re coming with me," he said, as if speaking to the creature, then chuckled. "I feel like a caveman. Just need a stone axe and a fur cloak now."


    "Though in these rags, I¡¯m not far off¡­" he added with a dry smirk.


    The carcass was heavy, but for the current Astar, it wasn¡¯t much trouble. His muscles worked with precise coordination, as if guided by an unseen force.


    Following the notches he¡¯d carved earlier, he moved confidently through the forest. The air still carried that same damp, earthy scent mixed with the strange aroma of alien flora, but he no longer felt as helpless as he had before. Each carved mark in the trees had become a symbol¡ªa reminder that he had a plan, a path, and some control over what was happening.


    "Good thing I made these," he muttered, spotting another notch in the bark.


    The forest whispered in its unfamiliar sounds, but Astar pushed forward, gripping the beast¡¯s hoof. Somewhere inside, a sense of satisfaction stirred: he¡¯d found food, he¡¯d survived, he¡¯d grown stronger.


    When the cave entrance finally appeared up ahead, he exhaled in relief and threw a quick glance at the sun already dipping toward the horizon. Time was passing, and he was starting to adapt to his new reality.


    "Gonna need something to store water¡­ and firewood," he muttered, dragging the carcass into the cave.


    Astar dragged the ¡°cow¡¯s¡± carcass off to the side, then quickly scanned the cave. The piles of bones scattered all around reminded him that this place had once teemed with life¡­ though death would be a more accurate word.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think about this before¡­ But if I found rags and a spear, then there must be something for water too,¡± he said to himself, beginning to rummage through the debris.


    He started pushing aside bones and shredded clothing with the spear, most of it already crumbling to dust. The stench rising from the mess was awful, but Astar forced himself to ignore it.


    It took nearly twenty minutes before his efforts paid off. Among the debris, he found three intact waterskins. Judging by their condition, they had belonged to the poor souls who once fell to the abyssal here.


    ¡°Exactly what I needed,¡± he muttered, inspecting the finds. The skins looked worn, but still usable.


    Wasting no time, Astar hurried to the lake. He rinsed the waterskins thoroughly, scrubbing off the dust and grime, then filled them with clean water from the far side of the lake¡ªaway from the blood that had seeped into the other end. Droplets trickled down his arms, and the lake''s surface began to recover its crystal clarity.


    ¡°That¡¯ll last me a while,¡± he said to himself, tying each waterskin shut and tucking them neatly into a makeshift pouch fashioned from a piece of cloak.


    Returning to the cave, he already knew his next task.


    ¡°Now for firewood,¡± he said, wiping his hands on his rags.


    He stepped back into the forest. This time, his objective was clear: find wood suitable for a campfire. But it turned out to be simpler than expected¡ªhe dragged back the trunk of a dry tree and broke it apart with his bare hands right inside the cave.


    ¡°Maybe I really am turning into a caveman,¡± Astar smirked, arranging the chunks into a small pyramid.


    Earlier, he had also found a piece of armor that resembled a chestplate. It had a shallow depression, and Astar figured he could try boiling water in it¡ªor use it as a makeshift frying pan. At this point, nothing surprised or disgusted him anymore. So much had happened in recent months that even his gag reflex seemed to be fading.


    The sun dipped slowly toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. The forest cooled, and the shadows of the trees stretched long, filling the world with a strange, mystical quiet. Astar, sitting at the cave¡¯s entrance, carefully ground a chunk of wood into fine shavings. His fingers worked with surprising precision, and his mind remained focused.


    ¡°All that matters is that it burns,¡± he muttered, placing the tinder at the center of the wooden pyramid.


    He wiped sweat from his brow. The hardest task still lay ahead: making fire. He¡¯d seen the trick in online videos, but in practice, it was nothing like how easy it looked on screen.


    Astar spent nearly two hours searching for the right stones, combing both the cave and the surrounding forest. He started striking them together, hoping for a spark. But no matter how hard he tried, the stones only clacked dully against one another, coating his hands in dust.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± he shouted, angrily throwing one of the rocks aside¡ªonly to pick it back up immediately. ¡°Wait¡­ this one looks right. Just need to find another like it¡­¡±


    Only after scouring the inner caves¡ªthe same ones he had stumbled into while fleeing the abyssal¡ªdid luck finally favor him. He found a matching stone, and though sparks eventually came, getting a fire to catch was no easy feat.


    He kept at it, adjusting the angle and force of each strike, until finally, one attempt succeeded. A tiny spark, as faint as a breath, flickered from the stone and didn¡¯t vanish. Astar leaned in instantly, waving gently over the tinder, and moments later, the welcome scent of smoke hit his nose.


    ¡°There we go!¡± he exhaled, watching with immense relief as the fire began to slowly take hold. Mimicking what he¡¯d seen in videos, he carefully blew to feed the flame.


    Gradually, he added more shavings, until the flame stabilized. Tucking it into the heart of the pyramid, he watched¡ªand a minute later, the cave¡¯s growing darkness was pierced by its first steady glow.


    Astar¡¯s face lit up with a smile¡ªsomething between victory and disbelief.


    ¡°This actually works!¡± he cried out, throwing his arms up like he¡¯d just struck the deal of a lifetime.


    He sat beside the fire, stretching his hands toward its warmth, which quickly spread through his body. It was a small but essential step toward survival. Now he had not just light, but a means to cook food and purify water.


    Watching the dancing flames, he felt an odd sense of satisfaction. In this new world, every small success felt like a triumph¡ªproof that he could adapt, that he could win.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving and thirsty, kha-ha¡­¡± he cackled hoarsely, drooling as he glanced toward the beast¡¯s carcass.


    Wasting no time, Astar quickly got to his feet and approached the carcass of the strange beast. Hunger and exhaustion gnawed at him, but both were pushed aside by a single, overwhelming thought: ¡°I need to eat!¡±


    He grabbed his spear and sliced off a thick chunk of meat, something like a steak. He even made an effort to remove the tendons and skin. The flesh was dense, but his strength made the task easy, even effortless.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope you¡¯re edible,¡± he muttered, wincing slightly at the thought of eating meat from a creature that had tentacles instead of a mouth.


    Returning to the fire, Astar simply tossed the meat directly into the embers. His energy was nearly gone, and he had no intention of being delicate about it. As the meat began to sizzle, giving off a strange but not unpleasant aroma, he took the metal plate he¡¯d found earlier among the bones and poured a bit of water from his waterskin into the shallow indentation.


    ¡°Well¡­ good enough,¡± he muttered, setting the plate atop some stones by the edge of the fire. He had deliberately arranged the stones to serve as a makeshift stand.


    Time crept by, but soon the meat began to form a crisp, appetizing crust, and the water in the plate reached a rolling boil, releasing faint wisps of steam. Astar waited patiently for everything to be ready.


    ¡°I¡¯d sell my soul for some spices¡­ or even just regular salt,¡± he smirked, watching the process. ¡°Then again, I¡¯m about to eat meat! Meat¡ªnot that tasteless slop from the mines!¡±


    When he felt the meat was well-cooked, Astar used two bones to carefully pull the piece from the coals. He brushed off the ash, the hot steam rising and stinging his face. Then, using the same bones as makeshift tongs, he lifted the metal plate and set it aside to cool.


    He sat by the fire, holding the still-hot meat in one hand. The moment felt almost surreal.


    ¡°Yeah, Astar, this is life now,¡± he chuckled, taking the first bite.


    ¡°Oh god¡­¡± he breathed in disbelief. The taste was simple, even bland, but it was the best thing he¡¯d eaten in this world.


    Every bite felt like a reward for all he¡¯d endured, and the hot water¡ªflavorless though it was¡ªoffered a fleeting echo of normalcy. As strange as it sounded, Astar felt like things were starting to look up. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt something like the freedom he¡¯d always longed for.


    ¡°What a beautiful feeling,¡± he said with a smile, glancing over at the water, waiting for it to cool.

 Chapter 10 — The Scream

    Day after day passed, and Astar had now spent nearly a week in the cave. He was growing more and more accustomed to the dangerous life in the forest of this foreign world. Each morning began with a check of the boundaries of his improvised territory, gathering firewood, and hunting. He had learned to navigate by the markings he¡¯d left, knew where to find water, and had a general idea of where edible animals could be found.


    Astar was careful never to eat the same animal¡¯s meat for more than two days, afraid it might spoil and poison him. So he went hunting with his spear. Given his strength and abilities, it didn¡¯t take long for him to figure out how to manage.


    But amid all the trials, there were some encouraging moments. Bit by bit, he began to notice another strange change in his body. The toughness of his flesh wasn¡¯t just for defense. Despite drinking unboiled lake water for several days, he hadn¡¯t felt a single negative effect¡ªno stomach pain, no weakness, no signs of infection or poisoning.


    ¡°Seems the changes in my body run deeper than I thought. No wonder Premarchs and Mnemarchs stop being considered mortal,¡± he muttered, gazing at his reflection in the lake.


    More than that, the cold that once pierced him to the bone in the mines now barely registered. Nights that used to feel unbearably harsh brought only mild discomfort now.


    ¡°My body really is changing¡­ or rather, adapting,¡± he thought while filling his waterskins.


    With each passing day, Astar grew more confident. He had already killed several abyssals who happened to cross his path. None of them were on the level of a Gray Mnemarch, which brought him some relief. Each fight gave him more skill, more confidence, and the growing belief that he could, in fact, survive in this world.


    ¡°Today¡¯s the day I try it!¡± he declared, standing and turning toward the cave.


    All the time he¡¯d spent in the forest, Astar hadn¡¯t dared to test the ¡°backlash¡± or curse of his Corruption Devouring Technique on himself. He had already slain five abyssals and absorbed the cores of two. He did so in moments when something strange began to stir inside him¡ªwhen his nerves began to fray, and a bubbling rage clawed its way up from the depths of his chest.


    What terrified him most, though, was the confirmation of a fear he¡¯d tried to suppress: the curse didn¡¯t only manifest from prolonged abstinence from abyssia absorption¡ªit could strike during battle if he used too much power.


    During one fight, after overexerting himself and drawing too deeply on abyssia, Astar had felt something horrifying. It began with a slight mental haze, as if a heavy veil had fallen over his thoughts. Then came the sensation¡ªhis heart felt as if it were on fire, and something wild and feral surged from his chest.


    His movements became faster but more savage, almost animalistic. Every action in the fight was driven by an uncontrollable urge to rip his enemy apart at any cost. In that moment, he realized just how close he was to losing himself.


    Fortunately, he had a monster core on hand. The moment the enemy was slain, Astar immediately absorbed abyssia, quickly returning to his senses.


    That experience left him shaken. He knew then that the curse of the Corruption Devouring Technique wasn¡¯t something he could afford to ignore. It was a lurking predator, patient and inevitable, waiting for the right moment to strike.


    ¡°If I let it take over¡­¡± he muttered on his way back to his shelter, ¡°I¡¯ll become a monster¡ªjust like the Technique describes.¡±


    That thought haunted him. He feared that, in the heat of the next battle, his body might stop obeying him¡­ that he¡¯d turn into something uncontrollable and destructive.


    Now he understood: every battle carried more than physical risk¡ªit was a threat to his very humanity.


    This realization only confirmed what he already suspected: he wasn¡¯t some noble warrior or grand mage. In this world, he needed to be careful¡ªextremely careful¡ªand avoid drawn-out battles whenever possible. Not only had he grown up on Earth and lacked experience with weapons, but he also risked madness in the midst of combat.


    Today, he was determined to test his limits. He had already ¡°glimpsed¡± the edge of danger during previous fights. But now he needed to know how long he could go without absorbing abyssia.


    ¡°The last time I absorbed a core was three days ago¡­ Last time, my thoughts started to blur after about the same amount of time,¡± he said aloud. ¡°Astar, today we¡¯ll find out what happens when we don¡¯t have any abyssia to draw on!¡± he declared to himself.


    Astar quickly returned to the cave, feeling a strange calm as the silence and dimness of the shelter enveloped him. He took a deep breath and walked to the back corner, where he had created an improvised sleeping area over the past week.


    He had built a simple structure out of logs, placing them close together to create a flat surface. Using his spear, he shaved off the rough edges and bulges, trying to make the bed as comfortable as possible. On top of the logs, he¡¯d piled soft blue moss and broad leaves found in the forest. They served as a makeshift mattress, providing a relatively soft surface to sleep on.


    "Some comfort at least," he murmured, lowering himself onto the bed.


    He ran a hand over the blue moss, which he had already discovered wasn¡¯t just soft, but retained warmth. That little discovery had felt like a victory in the early days.


    Sitting on the bed, Astar set the spear down beside him and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of the forest. Outside, the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional clicking of insects could be heard. That dangerous silence no longer frightened him¡ªinstead, it reminded him that he was alive, and everything was still going according to plan.


    "Three days," he whispered, as if reaffirming his resolve.


    He knew the coming hours would be difficult¡ªnot physically, but mentally. The awareness that he was stepping into something so dangerous stirred his nerves, but he had no other choice.


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any monsters that strong in this forest. The one that killed Dalanar was an exception¡­ I could start looking for a path to the city, but first I need to understand the limitations. If the curse of the technique turns out to be too much, I¡¯ll need to collect extra cores. Just to be safe¡­¡± he thought, brushing the hair from his face.


    Astar reached for the waterskin, took a few gulps, then set it beside the bed. Tonight, he was going to find out what would happen if his body went without an external source of abyssia longer than ever before.


    "I''m ready," he said quietly, staring toward the slowly dying fire.


    The sun crept behind the horizon, casting the sky in deep purples and fiery oranges. The forest surrounding the cave was descending into shadow, and with nightfall came a new chorus¡ªsporadic cries of nocturnal creatures, the whisper of wind through the treetops, and a faint hum in the distance.


    The cave grew darker by the minute, but Astar remained still on his makeshift bed. His eyes stayed closed, his breathing steady, though a subtle tension coiled through his body.


    At first, it was only a faint discomfort. A light tingling at the tips of his fingers, as though his nerves were sending mixed signals. The sensation grew rapidly.


    His body began to tremble. At first, the spasms were slight¡ªbarely noticeable¡ªbut soon they spread, trembling overtaking his entire frame. Astar inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm, but it didn¡¯t help. Something inside him was building¡ªsomething terrifying.


    "It¡¯s starting¡­" he whispered, gritting his teeth.


    The feeling was horrifically unpleasant. It was as if he couldn¡¯t get enough air. His chest began to tighten, and his lungs seemed to resist every full breath. Each inhale felt shallow and strained.


    But that wasn¡¯t all. The sensation wasn¡¯t confined to his lungs¡ªit was everywhere. In his arms, his legs, his skull¡ªevery cell in his body seemed to scream for something vital it no longer had.


    "How long now?" he thought, rocking slightly, trying to ease the spasms. "Damn it! I have to know how bad this can get¡­ Where¡¯s the line¡ªwhen do I start to lose my mind?"


    He gripped the wooden frame of his bed, trying to steady himself. His muscles twitched involuntarily, as if his body was fighting for survival but didn¡¯t know how.


    "Just hold on," Astar muttered through clenched teeth, overcome by pain. "This isn¡¯t the end¡­ not yet."


    The tremors worsened, but he refused to give in. Every moment stretched into eternity, but he knew that if he let panic take over now, he¡¯d never find out where his true limits lay.


    But soon, the physical pain and discomfort began to give way to something far more destructive. Emotional chaos surged within him like a bubbling vat of tar.


    Waves of fury, frustration, and raw anger crashed over him, one after another. They rose up from the deepest corners of his mind, dredging up everything he¡¯d ever tried to bury.


    First came the thoughts of his parents¡ªhow they¡¯d abandoned him. Of the bloodline that had pulled him from Earth and cursed him. Even grudges he thought he¡¯d let go resurfaced, but now they were sharper, magnified.


    "Why did they do this to me? Why am I here¡ªin this cursed world?!"


    Then came the fury turned inward. His own weaknesses, his fears, his failures¡ªthey all became blades, tearing him apart from within.


    "I hate it!" he hissed through clenched teeth, fists trembling. "What was the point of working so damn hard if it all ended up like this¡ªme living in a damn cave?! Even on Earth, I barely got to enjoy life! All I ever did was work!"


    His body continued to shake, though he barely noticed now. Everything inside him was on fire with rage. He clenched his jaw so tight it felt like his teeth might shatter, and low, almost animalistic growls began to escape his throat.


    ¡°Grr¡­ Damn this curse¡­¡± he growled, but then his voice broke into a snarl. ¡°I¡¯m suffering because of you bastards!¡±


    He didn¡¯t know if he was speaking aloud or merely thinking. The fury surged through him, drowning everything else until nothing remained but the searing blaze of emotion.


    Astar clutched his head with both hands, trying to stem the avalanche. It felt like his mind was about to shatter, like he¡¯d never be able to regain control.


    ¡°No! It¡¯s the curse¡ªit¡¯s all the curse! Hold on, Astar, as long as you still can!¡± the thought flashed through his mind.


    But realizing that only made it worse. Everything he felt intensified, as if the curse itself was mocking him¡ªforcing him to relive the worst moments of his life again and again, only this time with terrifying clarity.


    The emotions were tearing him apart from the inside, but somehow, his consciousness still clung to a shred of control. His mind grasped at slivers of logic, at tiny fragments of willpower still anchoring him to sanity.


    Then, everything changed in an instant¡ª


    Pain. All-consuming, unbearable pain burst through his body!


    It was so overwhelming that for a moment it felt like his insides had been melted into molten metal, and his bones were trying to pierce through his flesh.


    ¡°Aaaaagh!¡± His scream ripped through the cave, echoed off the walls, and spilled into the forest beyond like a wave of agony.


    Astar collapsed, falling from the bed, barely managing to land on his knees, his palms digging into the dirt. His fingers tore deep grooves into the dust, his nails cracking under the strain. It felt like his body had declared war on itself.


    ¡°My bones¡­ they¡¯re trying to burst out of me!¡± a thought flared, barely audible through the haze of pain. ¡°No¡ªit¡¯s not the bones¡­ it¡¯s the curse! It¡¯s killing me!¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    His muscles contracted on their own, wracked by violent spasms. His skin burned, as if it were being peeled away. Every nerve in his body screamed in unison, amplifying the torment to its peak.


    This wasn¡¯t just suffering¡ªit was something that made him want death.


    ¡°Kill me!¡± he cried out, his voice cracking into a feral roar.


    As if his body no longer belonged to him, Astar instinctively reached for the core hidden within his clothing. His eyes flew open, wide with terror and desperation.


    His trembling hand found the cursed object, fingers wrapping around its smooth surface. The core responded instantly¡ªits dark energy surged into him at once.


    Astar clutched it to his chest like a lifeline, and without hesitation, began absorbing the abyssia, greedily drawing it into his tormented body.


    ¡°Gkaah!¡± he gasped, as if he were drowning and had just reached the surface.


    In that moment, with the core gripped tightly in his hands, Astar saw something horrifying in the flickering firelight. Across his skin, thin black lines had begun to spread¡ªlike cracks on parched earth. They looked alive, writhing tattoos pulsing beneath the surface, threatening to rip him apart from within.


    The lines twisted and branched out wider, creeping across his arms, chest, and neck. In the firelight, they looked like a charred pattern slowly consuming his body. Each movement brought a new wave of pain, as if these dark ¡°fractures¡± were trying to tear him open.


    ¡°What¡­ is this?!¡± he rasped, breath caught in his throat from sheer terror.


    But as the energy from the core flowed into him, everything began to change. The abyssia rushed in like a river, flooding the emptiness and halting the curse. The black lines, which just moments ago had threatened his very existence, began to slowly recede, as if pulled inward by an invisible force.


    ¡°Come on¡­ Come on!¡± Astar rasped, tightening his grip on the core.


    With each passing second, the lines faded further until they vanished completely beneath his skin. The agony ravaging his body began to ebb. The spasms stopped first, then his breathing leveled out, and finally, his muscles relaxed. His mind, too, began to stabilize.


    He gasped for breath, still kneeling, the core clenched tightly in his hands. His body was recovering, and with that, clarity returned.


    ¡°God¡­ what the hell was I thinking,¡± he exhaled, staring at his hands, which now looked completely normal.


    But the memory of those black lines remained vivid in his mind. That hadn¡¯t been ordinary pain or a passing side effect. That had been the rampage of abyssia, beginning to lose its connection to the Corruption Devouring Technique.


    ¡°Shit¡­ this isn¡¯t just a curse,¡± he muttered, lowering his head in exhaustion. ¡°It¡¯s a slow, agonizing death. There¡¯s no damn way I¡¯ll survive going through that again¡­¡±


    Astar stared at the ground with empty eyes, haunted by the memory of that recent nightmare. Sweat streamed down his spine, his face, his entire body, dripping to the cave floor.


    After enduring such a horror, Astar understood one thing with perfect clarity: from now on, he could not afford to exist without spare cores¡ªor anything else that contained abyssia.


    ¡°No way¡­ I¡¯m not living with this damned thing inside me¡­ This curse will be the death of me. I have to do something about it!¡±


    In the silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, a thought began to form in Astar¡¯s mind¡ªone that scared him with its simplicity. He realized he had underestimated the curse. It wasn¡¯t just an inconvenience or a side effect. The constant fear that one mistake or moment of hesitation could lead to a nightmare death was unbearable.


    ¡°I can¡¯t live like this¡­¡± he exhaled, staring at the core now glowing with a pale blue-white light in his hands.


    But with that horror came resolve. Astar couldn¡¯t believe the curse was unbreakable. Everything in this world had a source, a system, and a weakness. If this technique was created, there had to be a way to reverse it¡ªor at the very least, neutralize its consequences.


    ¡°If my ancestor created it¡­ then the only ones who might know anything¡ªare my kin.¡± The thought clenched in his jaw like steel.


    His family. The bloodline that ripped him from a successful life on Earth and dragged him into this world¡ªonly to curse him as well. And yet, they might be his only chance at escaping this horror.


    But that realization raised even more questions. Where were they? How would he find them? And if he did¡ªwould they help him, or harm him?


    ¡°I¡¯m so sick of these damned secrets¡­¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°If they know how to break this curse, I¡¯ll find them¡­ and make them talk!¡±


    Yet even that plan felt distant and abstract. First, he needed to understand this world. How was it structured? How vast was it? Where could he start looking?


    ¡°Alright¡­ I need to find out how far the nearest city is,¡± he said aloud, rising to his feet.


    He glanced at his hands, still feeling the faint thrum of abyssia settling back into his body. One thing was certain now¡ªhe couldn¡¯t leave the forest without a proper stockpile of cores.


    ¡°A few more days here¡­ I¡¯ll kill a few more abyssals, stock up on cores¡­ then I¡¯ll move,¡± he said quietly, sweeping his gaze across the cave.


    Clenching his fists, Astar looked toward his spear. It had become his companion, a source of comfort, even if it was just an illusion.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be a victim of this curse. I will find a way to live properly in this damned world,¡± he said, more firmly this time. ¡°Even if I have to work hard like a slave to do it!¡±


    But the moment those words left his mouth, a dry chuckle followed. He couldn¡¯t help it¡ªmaybe it was the emotion, maybe the absurdity of it all¡ªbut he laughed.


    ¡°How ridiculous¡­ ¡®work like a slave.¡¯¡± He let out another short laugh. ¡°I am a slave¡­ to abyssia and the Corruption Devouring Technique.¡±


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Astar had no idea that just a few kilometers from his cave, a small camp had been set up. In the heart of the dense forest, a fire burned, and more than a dozen figures stood around its perimeter¡ªclearly guarding someone important.


    There were no humans in this camp. Its inhabitants belonged to a race distinguished by their unusual appearance. Their skin was a deep shade of blue or bluish-gray, shimmering faintly in the light as if dusted with a barely visible sheen.


    Each of them had long, slightly curved horns, the base blending with the color of their skin and gradually darkening to black near the tips. Their ears were long, pointed, and elegant¡ªshaped as if to catch the faintest sounds of the forest. Behind them extended a long, smooth tail ending in a sharp tip.


    The camp was encircled by softly glowing crystals, used by the beings as additional sources of light. Against the darkness of the forest, they cast a gentle bluish glow, making the camp resemble an oasis in a sea of shadows.


    But just a few minutes ago, their peace had been shattered.


    A terrifying scream¡ªraw with pain and despair¡ªtore through the night, echoing across the forest. It was Astar¡¯s scream, and its power and depth made even these seasoned travelers freeze in place.


    ¡°That scream¡­¡± whispered a girl who looked to be around twenty¡ªclearly someone of importance within the camp.


    She was petite and delicate, yet her beauty and charm were striking. Her jet-black hair fell just below her chin, and her deep navy-blue eyes perfectly complemented her skin tone.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a beast,¡± said a man in their group in a gravelly voice. His horns were slightly longer and thicker, and a mask covered his nose and mouth. ¡°This area isn¡¯t popular for hunting¡ªit lies on the border of several territorial zones. But it seems some poor soul wandered into the jaws of the abyssals.¡±


    ¡°I hope it doesn¡¯t concern us,¡± said a young man seated beside the girl, raising an ornate cup and taking a sip. ¡°Because once we reach the next city, I plan on getting very, very drunk. Ha!¡±


    His words clearly didn¡¯t please the petite girl¡ªshe gave him a sharp, disapproving glare.


    He bore a striking resemblance to her. The same attractive face, blue eyes, and black hair¡ªthough his was shorter. To be fair, he was taller and leaner, with a build closer to Astar¡¯s.


    Though the boy masked it well, the scream had clearly rattled them both. Even here, surrounded by guards and crystal light, they felt the oppressive danger breathing through the forest. They knew that the sound hadn¡¯t just been pain¡ªit carried something else. Something like madness.


    ¡°No threats here. The young masters can rest assured,¡± the man replied calmly.


    ¡°We¡¯ll protect you, young master Lukaris. And of course, our precious young lady Sirael,¡± added another woman guard with a smile, standing near the perimeter.


    After a short pause, the man¡ªZunar¡ªspoke again, as if to fully ease their concerns. ¡°We have ten Warriors and five Premarchs. There are no abyssals on this route strong enough to cause us real trouble.¡±


    Lukaris seemed eager to lighten the mood. He looked toward Zunar and raised a playful brow, taking another sip from his cup.


    ¡°With muscle like yours protecting us, we¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°But tell me¡ªhow much farther until we reach that so-called ¡®relatively safe¡¯ part of the route?¡±


    Zunar, standing slightly apart with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, turned to him. His expression was unreadable behind the mask, but his voice was softer than before.


    ¡°We need to pass through three small towns. The roads aren¡¯t the easiest, but there should be no major threats. I and the other Premarchs will handle any cursed creatures we encounter.¡±


    He paused, as if weighing his next words, then continued:


    ¡°After that, we¡¯ll finally reach Koros¡ªa large city belonging to the powerful human Runhart Clan. It lies on the shores of the Azure Sea and serves as a key logistics hub.¡±


    ¡°Runhart?¡± Lukaris echoed, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of them¡­ Humans with ambitions, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    "Exactly right," Zunar nodded. "The Runhart Clan controls a significant portion of this region¡¯s trade routes. All ships from the Odrer of Wanderings and Trade sail the ocean to the eastern human capital, then travel upriver to Koros. That way, they immediately reach the heart of the continent¡¯s northern region. Through the Azure Sea, they can deliver goods directly to demons, necromancers, and¡ª"


    But he didn¡¯t finish. Lukaris smirked and cut him off:


    "¡ªand to us, ha-ha. Such a shame the Order¡¯s ships can¡¯t reach our lands through the ocean¡­ If not for the sharp reefs, currents, and jagged cliffs, logistics to our territory would be easier, and we wouldn¡¯t have to pay humans a transit tax."


    It was becoming clear that Lukaris was not as careless or foolish as he first appeared.


    "Interesting," Sirael interjected, her melodic voice drawing everyone¡¯s attention. "If I understand correctly, we¡¯ll be taking the same route¡ªjust in reverse?"


    "Yes. Things will be easier from there, my lady," Zunar replied confidently. "We¡¯ll travel along the great Voler River¡ªalso called the Golden Waterway. It runs straight through human territory, west to east."


    "And then we¡¯ll see the ocean?" the girl asked, her eyes sparkling.


    "Exactly. You needn¡¯t worry¡ªon the Voler, we¡¯ll be under the protection of human Mnemarchs. It¡¯s a vital route, and there¡¯s no longer any need to cross wild lands on foot. Far safer than our current journey," he explained with a nod.


    Sirael fell briefly silent, casting a thoughtful look at the glowing crystals surrounding the camp. Their soft bluish light seemed meant to hold back the darkness, but after the scream they had heard earlier, even these comforting lights now felt less reliable.


    "Lukaris," she turned to her brother, "I won¡¯t lie¡ªI¡¯m burning with curiosity. But don¡¯t you think our father sent us too far away?"


    Lukaris gave a faint chuckle, lifting his goblet.


    "We¡¯re from a merchant house, and we¡¯re obligated to learn the craft. Father used all his connections to find us a worthy teacher. Can¡¯t help it if that teacher happens to be on the other side of the world, ha-ha."


    His joking tone earned a quiet laugh from Sirael, though Zunar simply shook his head and turned his gaze back toward the forest. Even if he claimed there was no danger, the scream still echoed in his thoughts. He had been entrusted with the safety of these two noble youths¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to lower his guard, not even for a second.


    Sirael just smiled sweetly and gave a small nod. Her tail swayed contentedly behind her, as if she had already cast off the memory of that dreadful sound.


    "Lukaris, what do you think the Order of Wanderings and Trade looks like?" Sirael suddenly asked, her eyes alight with curiosity as she turned to her brother.


    Lukaris looked up from his goblet, thought for a moment, and smirked.


    "Honestly, sis? I have no idea," he replied with a shrug. "But based on what Father told us, and from what I¡¯ve read¡­ it¡¯s an unimaginably powerful organization."


    He leaned back, gesturing as if painting a picture of a vast city or something even more impressive.


    "Just think," he went on. "They oversee every trade and logistics route across the continent. That means they don¡¯t just need endless caravans and ships¡ªthey also need powerful Mnemarchs to guard and escort all those routes. On top of that, they assign danger levels to every path and update their guides and maps constantly."


    Sirael nodded, already picturing grand buildings and massive archives filled with maps.


    "So it¡¯s not just transportation and protection¡ªit¡¯s research too, isn¡¯t it?" she asked.


    "Exactly," Lukaris confirmed. "They say the Order holds all of the continent¡¯s commercial and exploratory power. From charting new routes to developing new ways to harness memoria. Honestly, there¡¯s no better place for us to study trade."


    At that moment, Zunar spoke again. He nodded solemnly and said:


    "One could argue the only organization above the Order is the Church of Memoria itself. Though maybe that¡¯s just rumor..."


    "Not rumor," Lukaris replied with a smile. "In fact, the upper ranks of the Order answer directly to the Church of Memoria. Word is, the Order¡¯s even allowed to venture into forbidden territories¡ªthose fully corrupted by abyssia. On those expeditions, they¡¯re always escorted by Mnemarchs of the Church, which allows them to recover valuable relics and materials."


    "Ugh, terrifying..." muttered a tall, muscular woman standing guard at the edge of camp. "No amount of coin would get me to cross the Great Boundary of Memoria. In those lands, there¡¯s nothing but death and curses. I¡¯ve heard the soul of anyone who steps foot there starts to rot with abyssia..."


    The others responded similarly. The mere mention of the forbidden lands darkened their expressions. It was as if an instinctive fear gripped them all¡ªone they couldn¡¯t shake.


    But at that moment, Lukaris burst into laughter and cheerfully said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, they don¡¯t let weaklings like us anywhere near that place. Any expedition into the Forbidden Dead Wastes is made up of a large number of powerful Mnemarchs. In fact, nearly half of them are exorcists from the Church of Memoria. Only with their help can anyone survive out there and fight back against the abyssia.¡±


    Sirael smiled, clearly impressed by her brother¡¯s words.


    ¡°Seems like all those drinking sessions didn¡¯t kill your memory after all. You actually remembered our lessons from the tutors and Father,¡± she remarked teasingly.


    ¡°Well, someone had to,¡± Lukaris shot back with a grin.


    ¡°Lukaris!¡± Sirael exclaimed. ¡°I happen to have other strong suits!¡±


    ¡°Sis, you¡¯ve got to look at the world more broadly. My tavern talks are actually really useful, you know. I¡¯ve picked up loads of information from traders, hunters, and wanderers!¡± he declared proudly, with a sly glint in his eyes.


    Zunar, standing nearby, allowed himself the faintest smile beneath his mask.


    ¡°Your father made the right call, sending you to the Order of Wanderings and Trade,¡± he said suddenly. ¡°If anyone can teach real commerce, it¡¯s them. But before you start dreaming about trade, you¡¯ll need to make it to Koros first. And I advise you both, young lords, to conserve your strength. Tomorrow will be a long journey.¡±


    Sirael and Lukaris exchanged glances but didn¡¯t argue. Despite the light-hearted tone, they both sensed the hidden sternness in Zunar¡¯s voice.

 Chapter 11 — Danger and Closer Ties

    Time passed swiftly, and the evening¡ªso long and tense¡ªfinally came to an end. The sky began to lighten, painted in soft shades of pink and orange. In the camp of the strange beings, morning bustle filled the air: the guards dismantled the glowing crystals, packed up the camp, and checked their gear.


    Lukaris and Sirael, dressed in their travel attire, stood near the extinguished fire, watching the activity around them. Their faces looked fresh, but their eyes betrayed a hint of unease.


    ¡°I think today we¡¯ll get closer to Koros,¡± Lukaris said, adjusting the belt that held his dagger. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Zunar got the distance right.¡±


    ¡°If he didn¡¯t, I don¡¯t envy him¡­ Listening to you complain the entire way will be punishment enough,¡± Sirael replied with a faint smirk as she pulled on her gloves.


    They exchanged a brief glance, and Lukaris answered her, as usual, with a carefree smile.


    Once everything was packed, the caravan of strange beings set off. The column moved smoothly and with precision: guards flanked the sides, protecting the center where the young nobles walked. The sun rose steadily, and the forest slowly came alive under its first rays.


    At the same time, not far from their camp, Astar was preparing in the shadow of his cave.


    He checked his equipment, ensured the abyssal cores were intact, and packed a few essentials: water skins, an improvised knife he¡¯d carved from bone fragments, and some cloth scraps. But above all¡ªhis weapon.


    ¡°Screw this cursed place. I want back to civilization¡ªwhatever that looks like here¡­¡± he muttered, adjusting the spear on his back. ¡°I¡¯ll gather more cores along the way. For now, my stash will do. Time to move.¡±


    The days spent in the cave had given him time to explore the nearby area. Though he had no map or clear landmarks, he had memorized the main directions and had a general idea of where a road might be. At the very least, he knew which way to go to get farther from the mountain and its slave mine.


    ¡°If I head toward the lake, and keep going straight from there, I should find something,¡± he thought.


    The plan was simple: head in the direction where he suspected there might be settlements or roads, and hunt abyssals along the way. As long as he had a few cores left, he felt relatively secure, though he understood he couldn¡¯t stay in that state for long.


    ¡°The more abyssals I kill, the better. A stockpile of cores is my insurance,¡± he told himself, clenching his fists.


    His gaze swept over the cave. He had spent enough time here to make it a temporary home, but now it no longer served him.


    ¡°Even if I yelled at you¡­ thanks for the shelter,¡± he murmured quietly, addressing the cave, then stepped outside. Astar had always had a habit of talking to himself, but after everything, he¡¯d begun speaking to inanimate objects too¡­


    The first ray of sunlight touched his face, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes until they adjusted. The forest greeted him with familiar noise: clicks, cracking branches, and distant cries of unknown creatures.


    Gritting his teeth and steeling himself for the journey, Astar moved forward, sticking to the shadows. A road full of dangers lay ahead, but he was ready. His time in the cave, the hunts, and the battles with abyssals had given him a chance to rest, to process what was happening, and to adapt to this new reality. The waves of fear no longer crashed over him¡ªhe had begun to understand the rules of survival.


    Astar walked with steady, confident steps, heading toward the familiar lake. With each stride, his legs felt lighter and his thoughts clearer. The constant sounds of the forest, which had once filled him with tension, now seemed like a natural backdrop. He had learned to distinguish between the sounds that signaled danger and those that spoke of relative peace.


    When he reached the lake, he paused, taking one last look at the place where he had his first solo encounter with an abyssal. The water lapped gently against the shore, and occasional rays of sunlight broke through the dense canopy above, lighting the surface like a mirror. This place had become a sort of landmark for him ¡ª familiar, safe.


    "Let¡¯s refill the water, Astar," he muttered to himself, pulling the water skins from his improvised bag.


    He rinsed them quickly in the lake, emptying the old, slightly stale water, and refilled them with fresh. The sound of splashing water was calming, but Astar didn¡¯t allow himself to relax.


    "Now it¡¯s really time to go," he said, checking that the water skins were tightly sealed.


    His gaze swept over the surface of the lake once more. Strange fish, eel-like with sharp teeth, still darted just beneath the surface. They circled as if expecting another victim to fall into the water.


    "Wouldn¡¯t want to fall in there¡­ even by accident," he thought with a grimace.


    He stood, cast a final glance at the lake, and continued on.


    Out of habit, he continued marking trees with notches, though he knew he probably wouldn¡¯t return to the cave. It had become more of a ritual than a necessity. Each mark in the bark gave him a sense of direction, a reminder that he was leaving a trail behind ¡ª a fallback in case things went wrong.


    "The road ahead might be unpredictable, but these marks will help if I have to come back. Either way, I hope I find the road," he thought, carving another line with the tip of his spear.


    He pressed onward, putting more distance between himself and the cave. The forest gradually changed ¡ª trees grew taller, their canopies denser, and the air turned cooler and more humid. Each step took him deeper into the unknown, yet closer to potential roads, settlements, or people who might provide answers.


    "If I¡¯m heading in the right direction, I should run into something soon," he said to himself, running his fingers along the shaft of the spear. "This forest can¡¯t go on forever."


    Each step demanded attention and focus, but he had begun to believe he could handle it. With every passing hour, he left behind not just the cave ¡ª but also the fears that had once gripped him.


    Astar kept moving, ears tuned to every sound around him. Occasionally, he¡¯d pause to check his water skins or examine the notches he had made, ensuring he stayed on course.


    Only around midday did something finally catch his attention ¡ª movement in the bushes ahead. He froze, gripping his spear tightly, but soon three creatures emerged from the shadows. Their appearance made his stomach turn: dog-like but horribly disfigured. Their bodies were mottled with blackened, almost charred patches, and their heads were twisted grotesquely, as if deformed by some ancient curse. Their eyes glowed blood-red, and black drool dripped from their snarling mouths.


    "Small ones," he noted, eyeing them carefully. "But clearly starving and aggressive. A little different from the abyssals I¡¯ve seen before..."


    The creatures let out low growls, clawed paws scraping at the earth as they readied to attack. Astar, by contrast, slowly raised his spear, gauging the distance. He knew even weak monsters could be dangerous if they attacked together.


    The first lunged at him ¡ª but Astar was ready. His spear whistled through the air, driving straight into the creature¡¯s chest. The second followed immediately, but Astar dodged, smashing its head with the shaft of the spear and shattering it. The third leapt onto his back, claws raking down, but he threw it off with force, spinning and driving the spear through its body.


    "About warrior level?" he muttered, wiping the foul-smelling blood from his face.


    Scanning the area and confirming there were no more threats, he turned to examine the remains. Their cores were tiny, much smaller than expected ¡ª barely the size of beads, dimly glowing with black light.


    "Better than nothing," he said to himself, picking them up. "Even scraps are worth something."


    He tucked them into his bag and looked around, assessing the area. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, its soft light piercing through the canopy in golden beams. The air was cooling quickly, and the forest¡¯s shadows stretched longer, making the woods feel more ominous.


    "Time to think about shelter," he muttered, glancing around.


    Astar knew he needed a safe place to rest for the night. A cave would¡¯ve been ideal, but the chance of stumbling upon another one was slim. The next best thing would be a rock formation or a place where he could at least protect his back.


    "Either a higher spot, or something that can shield me from a surprise attack," he muttered to himself as he moved on.


    He kept walking, carefully scanning his surroundings. Because beyond just finding a place to rest, Astar had another idea¡ªspotting a road in the dark. When he first escaped from the mines, he had seen lights from high up, scattered across the land as if marking a path. If he got close enough to a road, he might have a chance to see those same lights again come nightfall.


    After about half an hour of wandering, Astar''s gaze landed on a tall cliff rising among the trees. It curved in a semicircle, forming a natural wall, and beyond it he spotted a small slope. The place looked ideal. The rock wall would cover his back, and the slope would give him a vantage point to observe the surroundings.


    "Perfect¡­" he murmured, gripping his spear. "Just what I need."


    He was about to head toward the cliff when suddenly his ears caught distant shouting. At first, it was muffled, like the wind had carried it from far away. But then came something unmistakable¡ªspoken language. People. Or at least living beings!


    He froze, straining to pick up the direction. The voices were chaotic, but filled with emotion: rage, fear, maybe even panic. Then came the sound of blows¡ªdull thuds and sharp clashes, like wood meeting metal.


    "They¡¯re not abyssals," he thought. "They don¡¯t scream like that¡­ There could be a road there!"


    His heart began to race. This could be the chance he had been waiting for. Astar understood it might be anything, but one thing was clear: where there are living beings, there¡¯s likely a road¡ªmaybe even a settlement.


    "I have to go. Whatever¡¯s happening there, it might be my golden ticket!"


    Without wasting another moment, he changed direction and headed toward the sound. The noise grew louder, more distinct, and now Astar could make out individual words¡ªthough the full context still eluded him.


    He tightened his grip on the spear, his gaze sharpening with focus.


    "This is my shot at returning to civilization. I won¡¯t let it slip," he said as he moved.


    Astar picked up his pace, breaking into a run, forgetting how long he¡¯d already been walking. His legs carried him forward with purpose, despite the weight on his back. Adrenaline surged through his veins, silencing the aches and fatigue. The shouting grew closer, sharper, and he felt¡ªtruly felt¡ªthat this nightmare of surviving alone in the wild was finally about to end.


    The forest blurred around him. The underbrush thinned, the trees began to spread out, as if making way for something more important. Suddenly, another thud rang out, followed by muffled cries. His heart pounded harder. He pushed forward, leaping over roots and ducking beneath low branches.


    And then, through the trees¡ªhe saw it.


    Between the massive trunks lay a road. Uneven, partially paved with large stones, but unmistakably a road¡ªsomething he had only dreamed of. And on that road were the sources of the noise.


    Astar dropped into a crouch, hiding behind a tree for a better view. His eyes immediately locked onto strange beings. Their skin was a bluish-gray with a faint metallic sheen, and atop their heads were long, straight horns¡ªalmost demonic in appearance.


    But most importantly, they didn¡¯t look savage. Their clothing was finely crafted, full of intricate details and ornate elements. Some wore armor, others bore jewelry that shimmered in the fading sunlight. They were armed: swords, spears, and bows, all expertly made.


    "Not humans¡­ but definitely intelligent. I think I saw some like them in the mines," flashed through his mind.


    Astar watched as one of the horned beings ¡ª a masked man ¡ª shouted something, gesturing sharply. Others were clustered around him. Among them, he spotted two figures who clearly stood out: a girl in more luxurious clothing, and a young man whose expression was now grave. They stood slightly apart from the rest, their posture and composure betraying a position of importance within the group.


    But something was wrong. Their movements were tense, and the shouting was accompanied by the sound of battle. "Are they fighting?" Astar wondered, narrowing his eyes, trying to make out more. The trees obscured part of the road and whoever was facing off against the group.


    Gripping his spear, Astar moved forward quietly, angling to stay hidden in the tree shadows.


    He held the spear close to his body, carefully dashing to a nearby tree. His movements were swift, each step deliberate and silent. He paused to listen. The cries were louder now, the ring of metal clearer ¡ª and alongside them, he heard a sickening growl¡­


    Raaaar!


    "Still can¡¯t see them," he thought, catching his breath as he peered from behind the trunk.


    His eyes darted to the next tree. He moved again, ducking low behind the thicker bark. The forest thinned slightly here, and he could make out more: among the horned beings were some clearly wounded. One warrior clutched his side, blood trickling through his fingers. Another, on his knees, struggled to stand, leaning on a broken spear.


    But what surprised Astar the most was that a faint gray mist emanated from some of those beings. They were clearly at the level of Premarchs¡ªjust like Astar himself. It was strange that something had managed to injure them so badly.


    "A serious fight... An abyssal managed to hurt them?" Astar''s thoughts whirled feverishly in his mind.


    Checking the surroundings again, he slipped forward to the next tree. He moved a few meters closer, and now the sounds were nearly deafening. Voices shouted in pain, interspersed with growls and a heavy booming noise that made the ground itself seem to vibrate.


    "Something¡ªor someone¡ªis pushing them back," he thought, clenching his jaw. He couldn¡¯t tell if he should be glad to have found intelligent beings, or afraid that they were struggling against a foe.


    When he reached the third tree, his heart skipped a beat.


    "Oh shit..." he muttered without thinking.


    Standing on the road, just a few meters away from the group, was a massive abyssal. This wasn¡¯t just any monster. It was that creature¡ªthe one from his nightmare. The same abyssal that had killed Dalanar with a single bite and driven Astar into hiding in the cave. Its massive figure towered over the horned warriors like a manifestation of death itself.


    The monster stood nearly three meters tall, with bones protruding from its flesh. A massive eye with dozens of pupils darted in all directions, seemingly tracking every movement around it. Clawed hands, stained with blood, dug into the earth, and its mouth, lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, was half-open, emitting a guttural growl.


    Two corpses lay before it¡ªsmaller abyssals, apparently slain by the group. But this behemoth was different. Even several seasoned warriors couldn¡¯t hold it back. It moved with terrifying power and speed for something of its size.


    One of the warriors lunged with a spear, but the abyssal whirled around and struck him with a thunderous blow. The warrior was tossed aside like a ragdoll, crashing to the ground with a dull thud¡ªand did not get up again.


    "Why this damn monster..." Astar muttered inwardly. A wave of icy fear washed over him, and the memories of that day surged back with renewed force. "How... how did it get here?!"


    His heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst out of his chest. He understood one thing¡ªthis abyssal was at the level of a Gray Mnemarch. He wasn¡¯t a match for it.


    "After activating the Corruption Devouring Technique, I¡¯ve grown much stronger... but even so, I doubt I can do anything to it. Worse, if I use up all my abyssia, I might lose my mind," Astar thought as he took a step back. "I¡¯ve found the road, so I just need to retreat and go around this fight..."


    Astar was already preparing to slowly back away, careful not to make a sound. He knew that even the slightest rustle could attract the abyssal¡¯s attention¡ªand facing it would mean certain death.


    But then, something happened that made his body freeze in place.


    The abyssal suddenly raised its massive head and let out a horrifying roar.


    Ryaaaaar!


    The sound was so powerful that the surrounding trees trembled, and the horned beings fighting it froze for a brief moment. Its jaws opened, releasing clouds of black smoke that spread rapidly through the air.


    Then Astar felt it¡ªan odd sensation, almost like physical pressure. Something invisible and powerful passed through his body. His breath hitched, and his hand instinctively moved to his spear.


    The abyssal stood still, then its massive eye, filled with dozens of swirling pupils, slowly began to turn. Several of the pupils broke away from the battle and locked directly onto the forest.


    Onto Astar.


    The world seemed to stop. His heart skipped a beat, then began hammering wildly. He stood frozen, unable to move, watching as the creature¡¯s gaze pierced through him, studying him¡ªseeking.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Shit... it saw me!" flashed through his mind.


    The abyssal growled louder, its muscles tensing as it turned its entire body toward the forest. It seemed to forget the group of horned fighters entirely. Its full attention was now on its new target¡ªAstar.


    "Damn it! It sensed that I¡¯m stronger... or it thinks I¡¯m trying to steal its prey!" Astar hissed through clenched teeth, realizing he had only one choice: join the fight.


    He clenched his fist, gripping his spear so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind raced through options, but each path led to the same conclusion: running was useless. The abyssal, with its size and power, would catch him in seconds. And disappearing into the forest was no longer an option¡ªthe creature was too smart and too focused.


    "If I run, I¡¯m dead... Night¡¯s coming, and I won¡¯t have a chance," flashed through his mind.


    The only chance was to join forces with these strange horned beings. They were wounded and possibly on the brink of defeat, but even so, a crowd had a better chance of taking down such a monster.


    "Alright..." he muttered, stepping forward. His gaze was locked onto the giant abyssal, which had already taken its first step toward him. The ground trembled beneath its massive limbs, and the thick smoke pouring from its maw filled the air with a putrid stench.


    Astar dashed forward, not giving himself time to hesitate. His legs carried him toward the road, each step pounding in his ears. He moved in zigzags, darting between the trees to make himself a harder target for the beast.


    The horned beings seemed to notice his approach. Several pairs of eyes, filled with a mixture of astonishment and caution, turned toward him. One of the guards, apparently wounded, tried to raise his weapon, but Astar shouted:


    "I''m here to help!" His voice came out sharper than expected. Astar realized that in a situation like this, it was better to make it seem like he¡¯d rushed in out of goodwill rather than just standing by and watching them get slaughtered.


    It was also a desperate attempt to show he wasn¡¯t a threat. He needed to get inside their formation, take a position close to them, and prepare for battle.


    One of the beings¡ªa man in armor and wearing a mask¡ªgave a curt nod, signaling the others not to attack. This was the very group that had heard Astar¡¯s screams earlier that night.


    The young man and woman standing behind him were Lukaris and Sirael. They also turned, eyes wide with surprise.


    "Who is he?" Sirael cried out, her voice laced with both fear and curiosity.


    "Now¡¯s not the time for questions! If we don¡¯t kill this abyssal, forget the Order!" Lukaris snapped, his eyes flicking back to the approaching monster.


    Astar ran into their formation, gripping his spear. His heart was pounding, but he quickly positioned himself near the defensive line, sensing the tension around him.


    "I don¡¯t know who you are," he said, catching his breath, "but if we want to survive, we need to fight together."


    Beside him came Zunar¡¯s raspy voice:


    "What are you good at?"


    "I''m no master of combat," Astar answered with cold determination, turning toward the tall Zunar. "But I¡¯m confident in my striking power. Just give me an opening!"


    The monster let out another deafening roar, and its massive eye once again locked onto Astar, as if sensing that he was the real threat.


    "Alright, bastard... You¡¯ve screwed up my plans twice already," Astar thought, steadying his breath and raising his spear. "You¡¯re like my personal nightmare in this world. Looks like I won¡¯t get to move forward until I kill you."


    Zunar, his face still hidden behind the mask, studied Astar carefully. His gaze scanned the stranger¡ªwell-made weapon in hand, his appearance rough, like someone who¡¯d been surviving in the wild, and something else... an unfamiliar sensation emanating from him. It wasn¡¯t just power¡ªit was an aura that marked him as something... different.


    Zunar held his breath for a moment, as if weighing whether to trust the outsider, then gave a sharp nod.


    "Understood," he said loudly. "Surround the abyssal! Distract it, but don¡¯t rush in! Archers, keep firing¡ªaim for the eye! We can¡¯t let it break through!"


    He turned to the others, who still stood in formation despite their injuries.


    "Flank it! No solo charges! Maintain distance until we get an opening for a decisive strike!"


    The wounded warriors, summoning their remaining strength, began to move again, drawing closer to the center of the formation. The archers farther back didn¡¯t let up. Their arrows hissed through the air, all aimed at the beast¡¯s single massive eye.


    The abyssal froze for a moment, sensing the increased threat, and let out a guttural growl. Its pupils darted in every direction, but some remained locked on Astar, as if it saw more in him than just a man.


    Astar gripped his spear tighter and took up a battle stance. His heart thundered so loudly he could barely focus, but fear was giving way to instinct.


    "If they give me a chance, I¡¯ll strike," he thought. "It may be stronger, but we have numbers, and my strength should be enough. Besides, this group looks experienced. This isn¡¯t like back then, when I was with tired slaves holding pickaxes."


    Suddenly, the monster turned and lunged toward one of the Premarchs to Zunar¡¯s right. Its claws slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, kicking up clouds of dust and gravel. The warriors scattered, dodging the blow, but three of the archers didn¡¯t react in time¡ªone of them was knocked off his feet by the sheer force of the air.


    "Now or never," Astar whispered as he began moving toward the monster.


    Zunar noticed and gave a nod to one of the Premarchs standing beside him.


    "Cover him! The previous strategy didn¡¯t work! Let the stranger take his shot!"


    The monster turned again, its massive eye filled with wildly shifting pupils locking onto its next target. But this time, it wasn¡¯t facing disoriented prey¡ªit faced a group that had begun to act with coordination.


    Astar quickly assessed the situation.


    "I could try throwing the spear, like always... but if I miss, I¡¯ll be unarmed."


    He took a deep breath and advanced cautiously, waiting for his moment.


    The warriors surrounding the monster launched their assault. They moved with precision: two would step in to draw its attention, then quickly retreat as others replaced them. It was like a well-practiced dance¡ªbut against a creature like this, it looked more like a desperate attempt to survive.


    The abyssal roared, its massive eye darting between targets, while its clawed hands slammed into the ground with thunderous force, leaving deep cracks and gouges in the dirt. The archers kept firing, their arrows striking the creature¡ªbut they seemed to do little damage. Only shots that hit the eye made the monster recoil, and even then, just for a second.


    "Useless..." Astar muttered inwardly as he watched the archers. "They¡¯re barely scratching it."


    But the Premarchs were a different story. A faint gray mist surrounded their bodies, and their movements were swift and precise. When they struck, their weapons left real wounds. The abyssal responded differently to them¡ªit roared louder, its movements grew wilder, more erratic. It was actually feeling pain.


    A muscular woman, clearly a Premarch, moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior. She dashed to the creature¡¯s flank and slashed deeply with her two-handed sword. The blade carved a long gash, sending a spray of foul black blood into the air. The abyssal bellowed and turned to strike, but the woman had already leapt back.


    Zunar and two other Premarchs continued to attack from different sides, inflicting more wounds. It wasn¡¯t enough to bring the beast down, but it was enough to enrage it. The abyssal growled in ragged, guttural bursts, its strikes becoming more chaotic¡ªeach one meant to rip its enemies apart.


    "How much stronger am I than these Premarchs?" Astar thought, tightening his grip on the spear. "If I¡¯m only a little stronger, I won¡¯t be able to pierce its skull... But maybe I can wound its eye?"


    He took a step forward. Then another. His body seemed to move on its own, driven by the growing sense that the moment to strike was near. But inside, fear still surged¡ªclashing with rising resolve.


    "They¡¯ve distracted it. If I don¡¯t attack now, I might not get another chance," he thought, watching the group battle the monster.


    Zunar, his gaze locked on the abyssal, shouted to his fighters:


    "Keep it distracted! Archers, aim for its limbs and eye¡ªslow it down and blind it! We¡¯re almost breaking its balance!"


    Astar felt his muscles tense. He clutched the spear like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality. He just needed one chance¡ªone opening to get close enough to land a decisive blow.


    "Just that..." he thought, steadying his breath. "One clean strike. Just one."


    One of the Premarchs to Zunar¡¯s right lunged forward, targeting the monster¡¯s flank. His blade flashed silver, slashing toward the joint of the beast¡¯s massive limb. It was a fast, precise strike, meant to cripple the creature¡¯s movement.


    But the abyssal seemed to anticipate the attack. Its huge eye¡ªwith its many pupils¡ªsnapped toward the Premarch, as if calculating the strike¡¯s path. In the next instant, it spun with a thunderous roar and lashed out with brutal speed. Its claws glinted in the light of the setting sun, and the air howled with the force of their movement.


    "Watch out!" Zunar yelled, hurling himself forward.


    But the strike was too swift. The abyssal¡¯s paw struck with such force that both the attacking Premarch and Zunar were hurled backward like rag dolls. They hit the ground several meters away with bone-crunching thuds. Zunar immediately tried to rise, bracing himself on his sword, but his breath came in ragged gasps, and blood already stained his chest.


    "Damn it!" someone shouted from within the group.


    For a heartbeat, everything froze. Even the archers stopped firing, stunned by the sight. A chill swept down every warrior¡¯s spine, as if death itself had drawn near, ready to take them all.


    Rage and bloodlust blazed in the abyssal¡¯s eye.


    And at that very moment¡ªAstar saw his chance.


    His gaze locked on the monster¡ªon its unprotected head, on the massive eye still fixed on Zunar. He knew this strike would be his only chance. If he hesitated, none of them would survive.


    Gritting his teeth, Astar raised the spear above his head. Every muscle in his body tensed, and abyssia surged from the Soul Vault, flooding through him.


    Thump! A faint gray mist began to rise from his body, as if answering his resolve. But then, deep within that mist, black sparks flickered¡ªbarely visible, but ominous, like glimpses of something sinister.


    ¡°Die!¡± he shouted, leaping forward.


    Astar poured every ounce of strength into that strike. The arc of his motion was as wide as possible, and his intent¡ªunyielding. The spear sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, aimed directly at the target.


    ¡°Aaaah!¡± his scream echoed through the trees, merging with the monster¡¯s guttural roar.


    In that moment, time seemed to freeze.


    The spear ignited with swirling gray mist, which flowed around it as if aiding the motion. The black sparks within flickered to life, infusing the weapon¡¯s tip with strange energy. The world held its breath, watching the trajectory of the blow.


    The abyssal noticed the leap¡ªits eye snapped toward Astar, several pupils narrowing as they focused. But the monster couldn¡¯t dodge in time. The spear struck with a deafening crack, landing squarely on its head.


    BAM!


    ¡°I missed! I can¡¯t pierce through its skull!¡± Astar thought in horror, realizing he¡¯d misjudged the reach of the blow. But in the very next instant, something unexpected happened¡ªthe spear didn¡¯t just slice skin, it shattered the skull, tearing through the eye and plunging deeper.


    Squelch!


    A sickening, wet crunch followed, and foul-smelling blood burst in every direction.


    Compared to the Premarchs, this strike was several times stronger. It had pierced the defenses of a Gray Mnemarch-level abyssal!


    RRAAAAAAAH!


    The monster¡¯s roar was so powerful that the earth shook.


    ¡°Come on! Die already!¡± Astar yelled, clinging to the embedded spear as the creature thrashed.


    The abyssal tried to turn and strike with its claw, but the wound disoriented it. The other Premarchs saw Astar¡¯s devastating blow and quickly seized the moment. Zunar, struggling to rise from the ground, shouted the command:


    ¡°Finish it! He¡¯s almost dead!¡±


    The Premarchs, mustering the last of their strength, charged the monster. Their weapons sank into its limbs and flanks. The archers refocused their fire, pinning the beast in place with rapid volleys.


    Astar, mindful not to waste too much abyssia, hesitated briefly, still gripping the spear. The half-dead monster bucked violently, flinging him around as if he were riding some wild beast.


    Shuuuuu!


    Suddenly, the spear ripped free from the abyssal¡¯s skull, hurling Astar backward toward a nearby tree. He crashed into it hard, but at the same time, a geyser of black blood erupted from the gaping wound.


    Finish it! he shouted internally, rising to his feet and charging the monster again, ignoring the sharp pain in his back and ribs.


    GRHHH!


    The abyssal bellowed again, its movements growing more erratic. It now seemed to move purely on instinct. That it could still move with its skull split open was nothing short of a miracle.


    Astar sprinted forward and leapt, swinging his spear in a wide arc. The blade plunged deep into the eye socket, cleaving out an entire section of the head.


    Raaagh¡­


    The monster staggered, letting out one final, rasping roar that quickly faded into a choking gurgle. Its massive body trembled¡ªthen collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.


    Silence followed, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors. Astar barely managed to stay on his feet, his legs trembling from exhaustion. His hands shook, and his body was slick with a sticky mixture of sweat and the abyssal¡¯s black blood. He released the spear¡ªstill embedded in the creature¡¯s skull¡ªand took a shaky step back.


    ¡°Is it¡­ dead?¡± he murmured, as if unable to believe his eyes.


    The monster lay still. The hulking body, which had moments ago loomed like death itself, now looked like a decaying mass of meat. Thick, black smoke rose from the cracked skull, slowly dissipating into the air.


    ¡°We did it!¡± one of the warriors shouted, still holding his weapon at the ready.


    But the joy was fleeting. No one moved, as if fearing the beast might rise again. Everyone still standing was spent. Even Zunar, leaning on his sword, looked as though he could collapse at any moment.


    "That... was... way too close," Zunar rasped, pulling off his mask and wiping blood from his lips.


    Astar still hadn¡¯t moved. He glanced at Zunar and the other warriors, taking in their exhausted faces, their labored breathing, and the tension that still hung heavy in the air.


    ¡°I need to find a way to replenish my abyssia¡­ I didn¡¯t use all of it, but maybe I can draw on the small cores from those three hounds¡­¡± he thought, reaching toward the pouch at his side¡ªonly to stop halfway.


    His eyes drifted to Sirael and Lukaris, standing a little ways off, clearly stunned by what they¡¯d just witnessed.


    Sirael couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the monster¡¯s corpse. Lukaris, for all his effort to appear composed, looked like he was about to lose it. His gaze was fixed on Astar, wide-eyed with shock.


    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± Zunar asked hoarsely, slowly lifting his head and drilling Astar with a heavy stare. ¡°Where did you get that kind of power? Are you really only at the Premarch stage?¡±


    Astar said nothing. His heart was still pounding. Black sparks danced in his vision¡ªresidual flashes from what he had just channeled.


    ¡°Who am I?¡± he finally said, trying to steady his breath. ¡°Honestly? Hell if I know.¡± He added with irritation.


    The bluntness of the response hit like a slap. For a moment, silence fell over the entire group. Even the warriors who had begun tending to the wounded froze in place, unsure how to react. His words were so raw, so direct, they sounded either like a challenge¡ªor a cry of despair.


    Sirael blinked, studying him, as if trying to figure out whether he was joking or dead serious. Lukaris frowned, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Even Zunar, despite the exhaustion and pain, didn¡¯t look away, his stare sharp and probing.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Zunar finally asked, his tone edged with steel, like he was trying to break through whatever walls Astar had put up.


    Astar exhaled heavily, brushing his black-and-violet hair from his face. He was drenched in abyssal blood, giving him a grim, almost spectral appearance. Though his clothes were ragged and makeshift, his voice was steady when he answered.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve lost my memory¡­¡± he paused, letting the words sink in. ¡°Woke up in this forest about two weeks ago. More precisely¡ªin a cave. Covered in injuries. Next to me was a dead abyssal. That¡¯s all I remember.¡±


    He didn¡¯t dramatize the story, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. The horned beings tensed. A few exchanged glances. Even those who had seemed indifferent earlier now looked uneasy. Perhaps they were wondering whether he could be trusted.


    Zunar frowned but didn¡¯t respond right away. Astar continued:


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I got to that cave, who I am, or what I was doing before. All I had was a dead monster and wounds that nearly killed me. The spear¡ªand these rags¡ªI found in the cave. I assume it used to be that thing¡¯s lair¡­¡±


    He looked around the group, making sure they heard every word.


    Only now did they begin to truly observe him. And yes¡ªhe looked wild. His clothes were stitched together from scraps, torn and bound into rough shapes. Instead of a real pack, he carried a makeshift pouch fashioned from fabric tied at the corners. He looked more like a lunatic vagabond than the warrior who had just carved apart a Gray Mnemarch-class abyssal.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I said I¡¯ve got no idea who I am,¡± he exhaled, looking away. ¡°All this time, I¡¯ve just been trying to figure out how to get out of this damned forest¡ªand whether there¡¯s even anything beyond it. It wasn¡¯t until I heard someone yelling that I knew I wasn¡¯t alone. That¡¯s why I ran here.¡±


    His words hung in the air, sparking a dozen new questions. No one spoke. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts.


    Finally, Zunar exhaled heavily and straightened up, leaning on his sword.


    ¡°If that¡¯s true¡­ then you have my sympathy,¡± he said, nodding toward the monster. ¡°But right now, I can¡¯t ignore what you just did. You saved our lives, stranger. And for that, we¡¯re grateful.¡±


    As Zunar finished speaking, soft but purposeful footsteps broke the silence.


    Sirael stepped forward. Something in her demeanor had changed. Her usual gentle quiet was replaced with sharp focus. Her gaze, once tentative, was now calm and analytical. Even her movements were precise¡ªlike someone used to handling delicate negotiations.


    She approached Astar without the slightest hint of fear, despite his bloodstained, savage appearance. Her posture, composure, and calm gaze marked her as someone trained for diplomacy.


    ¡°Damn¡­ she¡¯s gorgeous,¡± Astar thought, struck by the contrast. He could see her femininity and beauty clearly, but there was something¡­ different. Not quite human. And that dissonance unsettled him.


    She stopped in front of him, looking him straight in the eye. Then she removed her glove and slowly extended her hand.


    After a short pause, she continued:


    ¡°Losing your memory... that¡¯s terrible. Even more so that it happened out here in the wilds, crawling with abyssals and beasts.¡±


    ¡°We, my brother and I, thank you on behalf of House Tenebris,¡± she said sincerely, motioning toward Lukaris with her other hand and offering a respectful bow. ¡°Right now, a companion as strong as you is exactly what we need,¡± she added, her gaze briefly flicking to the slain abyssal.


    Her words were so natural and calmly spoken that even Lukaris¡ªwho had opened his mouth as if to say something¡ªfell silent. The warriors, still in the midst of bandaging wounds, paused for a moment, their attention turning toward Astar.


    The silence became almost tangible. No one knew how to react to such an offer. Even Astar hadn¡¯t expected it. But there was no hint of pretense or fear in her words or her gesture. She meant what she said.


    ¡°My name is Sirael Tenebris. My brother and I are descendants of a small merchant house,¡± she went on, hand still extended. ¡°What about you? Do you remember your name, at least?¡±


    Astar stared at her outstretched hand, then met her eyes. He was exhausted, worn out, still dazed from the battle¡ªbut there was something in her gaze that inspired trust.


    He drew a deep breath and answered, ¡°Astar. My name¡¯s Astar. That¡¯s all I remember.¡±


    Sirael nodded, her expression softening, and a faint smile curved her lips.


    ¡°Astar... It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said, taking his hand without hesitation, regardless of the grime and reeking abyssal blood. ¡°Then let¡¯s start by getting out of here together. Once we reach the next town, I¡¯d like to properly thank you. And who knows¡ªmaybe something will come back to you along the way.¡±


    Astar smirked slightly. His expression relaxed, and for the first time, a flicker of relief sparkled in his eyes. He straightened his posture, swaying slightly but keeping his balance.


    ¡°When I heard your voices,¡± he began, wiping sweat from his brow, ¡°I was just about to ask someone for help getting the hell out of this forest. So trust me, you won¡¯t have to ask me twice.¡±


    His words came with a touch of dry humor. He looked around at everyone gathered, meeting a few surprised¡ªand some still wary¡ªgazes. Then he exhaled, flexing and unflexing his fingers as if trying to release the tension coiled inside him.


    ¡°Though I do have one request... If you really want to thank me for the help, could you maybe answer a few questions?¡± He gave Sirael a short, crooked smile. ¡°I don¡¯t understand a damn thing. What is this forest? Who are you people, and why don¡¯t you look like me? Where does this road even lead? At least tell me that much.¡±


    His honesty earned a few faint smiles from the warriors, and the tension in the air seemed to ease just a little. Even those who had seemed guarded or aloof before now appeared slightly more relaxed. That small confession¡ªsimple and sincere¡ªmade Astar feel more human to them.


    Sirael¡¯s smile grew warmer as she let go of his hand, though her eyes remained focused on his.


    ¡°Questions, huh?¡± she echoed with a playful tone, but there was genuine kindness behind it. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the least we can do for you. In fact, if you don¡¯t recall anything, you¡¯re welcome to travel with us. We¡¯re headed to the Order of Wanderings and Trade¡ªthere¡¯s always something for everyone there.¡±


    She turned to Lukaris, who still stood with arms crossed behind her. He sighed and gave a slight shake of his head¡ªbut there was a faint smile on his lips.


    ¡°Well, sister... looks like your persuasive skills haven¡¯t dulled,¡± he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Astar, right? I¡¯m Lukaris Tenebris. Huge thanks to you¡ªand welcome to the group.¡± With that, he stepped forward and shook Astar¡¯s hand, not caring about the blood and grime.


    ¡°And why would they dull? Unlike you, I don¡¯t waste half my time on booze and women,¡± Sirael said sharply, before quickly smiling again and giving Astar a friendly nod.


    A few warriors chuckled, one of them even folding his arms with a satisfied smirk. The mood shifted tangibly¡ªwhat had been tense and wary now felt almost comradely. Even if only for a moment, Astar felt like part of the group.


    But more importantly¡ªhe would finally be able to ask the questions that had haunted him since waking in this foreign world. Finally, he had a way out of the endless cycle of survival in the wilds. A path to the city. A path forward.

 Chapter 12 — A New World: Mnemoris

    The sun had nearly vanished beyond the horizon, painting the sky in rich shades of crimson. The group had only just caught their breath and tended to the wounded before it was time to set up camp. The road was far from ideal for that, and at that moment, Astar remembered the cliff he had found just before the battle with the abyssal¡ªand he told them about it.


    Before they left, Zunar carved the core from the monster¡¯s corpse¡ªfist-sized¡ªand the others helped drag the body off the road. Astar said nothing. All he wanted now was to get to a city. He had no interest in claiming the spoils or stirring up internal conflict with those who had become his guides and sources of information.


    Each step along the winding path felt heavier than the last, especially for those barely staying on their feet due to injuries. But ahead, their goal came into view: a high cliff, perfectly suited for a camp.


    ¡°There it is,¡± Astar said simply, pointing to the spot.


    The cliff arched into a natural semicircle, forming a protective wall at their back, while the gentle slope provided a wide view of the area. It was an ideal place to rest.


    Lukaris scanned the terrain and grinned, clearly approving the choice.


    ¡°Great spot,¡± he said with a note of praise, his voice still lighthearted despite everything they¡¯d endured.


    ¡°This is where we stop,¡± Zunar ordered, his voice still authoritative despite his weariness. ¡°You all know the drill. Archers¡ªtake the high ground. Wounded¡ªagainst the cliff. Light the fires and set the moonstones for illumination.¡±


    The warriors moved swiftly and efficiently, placing glowing crystals around the perimeter, lighting fires, and organizing supplies. Their actions were precise, clearly the result of long experience traveling and surviving on the road.


    Astar stood off to the side, observing, not moving. He felt out of place, unsure what to do with himself. No one asked him to help, and he didn¡¯t volunteer. His place in the group still felt uncertain¡ªon one hand, they were beginning to trust him, but on the other, he remained a stranger.


    It was a good moment to replenish his abyssia. Astar excused himself, claiming he needed to relieve himself, and quickly absorbed one of the small cores he¡¯d gathered earlier. He knew better than to take risks¡ªkeeping his strength steady was crucial.


    Some time later, with the camp nearly finished, Astar returned. Lukaris and Sirael approached him almost immediately.


    ¡°Perfect timing,¡± Lukaris said with a wry smile, holding out two bowls. ¡°Here. Nothing fancy, but packed with useful stuff.¡±


    One bowl held a thick soup, the other a dark wine. Astar took them slowly, slightly caught off guard. It had been so long since he¡¯d had anything resembling a proper meal, he momentarily froze. And wine? He hadn¡¯t even dreamed of alcohol.


    He¡¯d only been in this world for a few months, but it felt like years. His life on Earth¡ªwith its comforts and civilization¡ªnow seemed like a dream. The aroma of real food, rich with spices, and the wine¡¯s scent were enough to jolt him from the daze he¡¯d been living in.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, not immediately sure what else to say.


    ¡°No need to thank us,¡± Sirael added warmly. ¡°It¡¯s just food. Nothing gourmet.¡±


    Holding the precious bowls, Astar slowly sat on a log serving as a bench. The moment the soup¡¯s scent hit his nose, he froze. The spices, the herbs¡ªso unfamiliar and rich, he almost thought he was dreaming.


    He meant to say something else, but saliva betrayed him, pooling in his mouth as hunger surged. The bowl rose to his lips without hesitation, and he took his first sip. The world seemed to vanish.


    The soup was hot, perfectly seasoned, its depth of flavor spreading through his body, restoring strength.


    ¡°This¡­ this is divine!¡± he blurted out, staring into the bowl as though it held a sacred treasure.


    Lukaris burst out laughing at his reaction.


    ¡°You act like it¡¯s your first time eating!¡±


    ¡°Honestly? Since I woke up in that cave, I haven¡¯t eaten anything remotely decent,¡± Astar replied, looking up. ¡°After surviving in that forest, this really does taste like food for the gods.¡±


    The mood warmed immediately. Sirael and Lukaris both looked pleased. The warriors, finally allowing themselves to relax, began eating as well. Those who were uninjured stood and kept watch as they ate. The wounded ate slowly near the cliff. For the first time in ages, Astar felt a strange sense of comfort.


    ¡°I¡¯d forgotten how good normal food could taste¡­ By Earth¡¯s standards, this probably isn¡¯t even close to restaurant quality¡­ but right now, this soup might be the best meal I¡¯ve ever had,¡± he thought to himself.


    He was so absorbed that he nearly forgot about the second bowl¡ªthe one with wine. His gaze drifted to it, and he swallowed instinctively.


    Lukaris noticed and smiled even wider. He raised his bowl with both hands, as if to make a toast. His gaze swept across the camp, pausing briefly on Sirael, who sat nearby watching with a faint smile.


    ¡°To new friends,¡± he said solemnly, tilting his head toward Astar.


    The gesture felt familiar, like something he¡¯d seen back on Earth. Maybe it was a local version of clinking glasses. Astar paused for a moment, then quickly set his soup aside, lifted the wine in the same manner, and tapped his bowl lightly against Lukaris¡¯s.


    ¡°To new friends,¡± he echoed, a little unsure.


    Sirael raised her bowl as well, and their cups met with a soft clink.


    ¡°Forgive my brother. He loves his drink so much, he couldn¡¯t let you finish eating in peace,¡± she said with a gentle, teasing smile.


    ¡°Sis, don¡¯t exaggerate! I saw the way he looked at the wine! His mind may have forgotten, but his body remembers, ha!¡± Lukaris added with a wink, then downed his wine.


    That moment seemed to erase the last barriers between them. Even Astar could feel the tension, which had gripped him since the moment they met, begin to melt away.


    The other warriors didn¡¯t join the toast¡ªthey were still tending the perimeter, bandaging wounds, or inspecting their gear. But now and then, their eyes would wander toward the strange newcomer calmly drinking wine with their lords, as if he¡¯d always belonged there.


    Astar took a cautious sip. The wine was dry, slightly tart, but surprisingly deep in flavor. Warmth spread through him, easing the last traces of exhaustion and pain.


    ¡°Damn¡­ this is really good too,¡± he admitted, licking his lips and gazing into the bowl like it held some kind of magical relic.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m certain you¡¯ve been living wild,¡± Lukaris laughed. ¡°Every part of our rations is a new revelation for you.¡±


    ¡°Well, considering I¡¯ve been living on berries, roots, and mystery meat¡­ yeah, this is basically a king¡¯s feast,¡± Astar replied with a smirk.


    The casual exchange between them made the atmosphere in the camp completely shift¡ªnow it was warm, even cheerful.


    ¡°They may be open, but they¡¯re definitely not ordinary folks¡­ If they¡¯ve got escorts and people treat them with such respect, they must be some kind of rich kids? Sirael did say they were from a merchant house¡­¡± Astar mused, glancing at the two horned figures who, in this moment, felt more like companions than dignitaries.


    Several minutes passed as they continued chatting about mundane topics¡ªwine, how often they encountered abyssals, how long their journey would last. The conversation flowed easily, and Astar began to feel just a bit more at ease.


    But soon his gaze lingered on Lukaris and Sirael. The features of their faces, their horns, the color of their skin¡ªall of it once again drew his attention. The question he had long tried to push aside finally burst forth. He knew he had to take advantage of their kindness and learn more about the world he had found himself in. Or rather, the world he had originally belonged to.


    ¡°Um... Forgive me if this is rude,¡± he began, glancing away, then forced himself to look straight at Lukaris. ¡°But I have to ask. Why do I look so different from you? I mean physically. We¡¯re clearly not from the same¡­ uh¡­ species, right?¡±


    The question caused a brief pause. Lukaris raised an eyebrow, then chuckled as if the question didn¡¯t surprise him at all. Sirael glanced at her brother before turning to Astar, her expression growing more sympathetic.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said calmly. ¡°Lukaris and I are Noxuli. Our race lives to the north of human lands.¡±


    ¡°Noxuli?¡± Astar repeated, trying to lock the unfamiliar word into memory.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lukaris answered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°We come from desert lands. Our cities lie beneath the sands, in vast underground oases. It¡¯s cooler down there, safer, and there are fewer abyssals¡­¡±


    ¡°Oases? Underground?¡± Astar asked, surprised.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Sirael confirmed. ¡°Our civilization adapted long ago to harsh conditions. Sandstorms, scorching sun, and the lack of water forced us to seek refuge beneath the surface. That¡¯s where we built our cities. They¡¯re protected from most weather, and they¡¯re easier to defend against abyssals. Though we still rely on the Church of Memoria and their temples to create protective barriers. Abyssals come in all forms, and some of them can tunnel their way into our oases.¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± Astar hesitated, unsure how to phrase the next question. ¡°How are you connected to human lands at all?¡±


    Lukaris smirked and waved a hand dismissively.


    ¡°Mostly through borders and trade. Our goods are valued far beyond our territories, just as yours are. Both our races are clever enough to be useful in all sorts of crafts. Besides, we rely on the Order of Wanderings and Trade to maintain logistics. And from Noxuli lands, the most efficient route to the Order runs through Human territory.¡±


    Sirael nodded and added, ¡°As I mentioned before, we come from a small merchant house. Not as wealthy as the great clans, but not as poor as commoners. Our father sent us to the Order for training so we could become capable administrators. That¡¯s the real reason we¡¯re passing through your lands.¡±


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    Astar fell silent, trying to organize the new information in his head.


    ¡°So... this Order is made up of Humans and Noxuli?¡± he asked for clarification.


    ¡°No,¡± Sirael replied with a smile. Her voice was steady, but carried a quiet pride for the place they were heading. ¡°The Order of Wanderings and Trade is a massive, independent territory. It brings together representatives of all races. Anyone capable of trading, building, or exploring tries to migrate to the Order¡¯s lands.¡±


    Astar gave a small nod, letting the words sink in. After all, he had seen many different beings back in the mine. Clearly, this world had more than just Humans and Noxuli.


    ¡°Guess remembering everything won¡¯t be easy...¡± he said at last, giving a faint smile. ¡°You said all races¡­ Are there others like us, but different?¡± Astar deliberately worded the question strangely.


    Sirael looked at him, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. Lukaris, on the other hand, leaned back and stared at the few stars peeking through the leaves above, as if weighing his response.


    ¡°If you want to understand who the ¡®others¡¯ are,¡± Sirael began, her gaze shifting to the campfire, ¡°then we need to start from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Very beginning,¡± Lukaris confirmed with a casual nod. ¡°We live in a world we call Mnemoris.¡±


    ¡°Mnemoris?¡± Astar echoed, hearing the name for the first time. Still, it wasn¡¯t hard to see the connection¡ªmnemarchs, memoria¡­ everything seemed somehow tied to memory or the soul in this world.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Sirael nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a vast continent, surrounded by an endless ocean. Many races live here, each with their own traits, traditions, and territories.¡±


    She paused, as if giving Astar a moment to process what he¡¯d heard.


    ¡°Humans and Noxuli are just two of the nine sentient races that inhabit this world. You could roughly divide Mnemoris into the northern, central, and southern regions,¡± she continued. ¡°The north is home to us, Humans, Necromans, and Imps. In the central part of the continent live the Myconids, Stonekin, Lizardfolk, and Elementals. Also, in the western part of the central region lies an enormous peninsula entirely ruled by the Church of Memoria.¡±


    "What about the south..." Lukaris picked up the thread. "Half of it is occupied by the Order of Wanderings and Trade, and below that lies the Forbidden Dead Wastes¡ªland cursed by abyssia, where no one is allowed to set foot. It¡¯s guarded by a massive barrier, constructed and maintained by the Church of Memoria."


    At that moment, Sirael seemed to remember something and added, "There¡¯s also a cursed region on the western coast of the northern part of the continent. It¡¯s protected by a similar barrier. The Western Ocean is extremely dangerous and tainted with abyssia. Almost no ships sail there, and there are no trade routes."


    Hearing this, and piecing together all the information he¡¯d heard so far, Astar tried to form a mental image of the map, but geography in this world was still difficult for him to grasp.


    Noticing how Astar was struggling to imagine everything they had described, Lukaris chuckled and waved toward Zunar.


    "Zunar, toss me the world map!" he called out loudly, not hiding his satisfied grin.


    Zunar, who was inspecting the camp at the time, raised his head and, without a word, tossed a scroll toward Lukaris. He caught it deftly, unrolled it, and handed it to Astar.


    "Here, take a look. It¡¯s a simple map, it doesn¡¯t show all the cities or zone names, but it should help you get your bearings. Welcome to Mnemoris," he added with light irony, pointing at the parchment.


    Astar took the map carefully, as if it were something sacred. The thin rustle of parchment broke the silence, and the firelight highlighted the details on its surface¡ªlines, symbols, and inscriptions. He leaned in closer to examine the image, and for a moment, his breath caught. This continent looked like nothing from Earth. It was long, its length nearly twice its width.


    "Now I get why they explained the geography by longitude..." Astar thought.


    His gaze first landed on dark splotches that stood out like wounds on the landscape. These areas, though clearly marked, looked foreign and ominous. Astar recalled Sirael¡¯s words¡ªlands cursed by abyssia. One of those zones occupied the northwestern coastline, clinging to the shore like a shadow. Another, much larger, stretched across the southern part of the continent, ending abruptly where it collided with a barrier drawn like a wall of temples lined along the border.


    "The barrier," he remembered.


    His fingers drifted northward, toward the region labeled "Noxuli." This territory covered the northeastern portion of the continent.


    Beneath it, he noticed the designation "Humans." His gaze caught on a winding river that cut straight across Human lands¡ªfrom west to east¡ªlike a thread stitching together the sea in the northern heart of the continent with the Eastern Ocean.


    Opposite the Humans and the Noxuli were lands occupied by two other races in the continent¡¯s northwest. At the top were the Necromans, their territory slashed through as if to say: don¡¯t go there. Beneath them was the smallest marked territory, labeled "Imps."


    Astar¡¯s finger drifted further south, to the continent¡¯s central-west. There, on a massive peninsula, lay the lands of the Church of Memoria. These were marked in white and decorated with temple symbols resembling spirals. The peninsula seemed isolated from the rest of the world¡ªseparate, but significant.


    His eyes slowly moved east of the Church. In the center of the continent was a massive mountain, dividing the lands of four races. To the left were the territories of the Myconids and Stonekin; to the right, those of the Lizardfolk and Elementals. Each name evoked an image, and Astar tried to fit them together.


    His finger dropped to the south... where the lands of the Order of Wanderings and Trade spread wide. This region was immense¡ªtouching rivers and mountains, neighboring other zones. But below it began the dead void, shaded the same ominous tone as the cursed lands of the northwest.


    He studied the map for a long time, his gaze wandering over the contours and symbols. He felt like he was looking at something far more than a piece of parchment. It was a new world¡ªvast and intimidating.


    "Holy hell..." he muttered, glancing at Lukaris and Sirael. "Our world... it''s way bigger than I ever imagined."


    Astar¡¯s mind was now overflowing with questions. What did the other races look like? What were their relations like? What kind of politics shaped this world? And why did everyone mention the Church of Memoria so often? What exactly was it?


    But the question that escaped his lips was something else entirely:


    "What about the abyssals?" Astar asked, unable to ignore the fact that his technique, in some twisted way, tied him to those monsters. "Are they a race too?"


    Lukaris frowned, his expression growing serious.


    "Abyssals aren¡¯t a race," he replied. "They¡¯re more like a curse, a plague upon the body of Mnemoris. Their nature is still unknown, but they can corrupt any living being. They¡¯re born of abyssia, and all that drives them is hunger and destruction. Some say these creatures devour the souls of the slain, preventing them from returning to the Source of Memoria. Others believe they consume memoria itself and then corrupt it within. No one knows the truth..."


    Sirael frowned, her eyes grave.


    "If memoria is the energy of creation and life, then abyssia is the energy of chaos and death. The world isn''t in complete disorder only because of the Church of Memoria and their barriers. Only those whose souls were born from the Source of Memoria can pass through them."


    Astar grew thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the campfire. The world they were describing seemed both complex and frightening. But he was encouraged by Sirael¡¯s final words. If what she said was true, he shouldn¡¯t have any issues passing through the barrier.


    And just as that thought echoed in his mind, Astar¡¯s eyes widened. He felt like an idiot.


    "What the hell, Astar!" he mentally yelled at himself. "We¡¯ve been afraid this whole time, but I¡¯ve already passed through a similar barrier! When we escaped the mine, I didn¡¯t feel any problem! Wait, no¡­ back then I hadn¡¯t activated the Corruption Devouring Technique yet, and there was no abyssia inside me¡­ Shit!" his surge of joy vanished just as quickly as it had risen.


    Everything Astar had gone through in recent months had been too stressful and terrifying. He had been so focused on surviving that certain facts had started to blur in his mind.


    Now that he finally felt safe, a wave of memories and thoughts he had suppressed began flooding back.


    "Do I have PTSD? Not that I really know what that means without a phone¡­ Damn, the internet really gave an illusion of knowing everything. Without it, I¡¯m not that smart," he thought with a tinge of self-deprecating humor.


    "Something wrong?" Lukaris asked, noticing Astar¡¯s strange reaction.


    "Sorry, I¡¯m just a little stunned, haha," he deflected. "So this world is enormous, and all I know is that it¡¯s full of danger," he added with a slight smile.


    "Don¡¯t worry, that¡¯s normal. When my sister and I were sent for training, we were even more shocked. Though, to be fair, we were kids back then, haha!"


    Sirael immediately elbowed him sharply in the side. Lukaris let out a quiet "ow" and rubbed the spot, though he kept smiling as if he didn¡¯t mind at all.


    "Lukaris, don¡¯t tease him," she scolded, frowning. "Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s having a hard enough time?"


    Astar simply laughed, his eyes glinting. In that moment, he remembered his only friend, James ¡ª who also liked to tease him in a friendly way. Astar hadn¡¯t thought of his friend in a long time, and he felt a sudden pang of guilt. Then again, he¡¯d had a mountain of life-threatening issues to deal with. There hadn¡¯t been any time for reflection since arriving in this world.


    "It¡¯s fine, Sirael," he said with a grin. "That kind of humor doesn¡¯t bother me. If anything, it feels nice. I get the sense that, before I lost my memory, I had a friend who liked to joke like that."


    His words came surprisingly easily ¡ª and sparked an even stronger reaction from Lukaris. The man sprang up, plopped down right next to Astar, and threw an arm around his shoulder.


    "Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about!" he exclaimed with a pleased grin. "You know, I feel like we¡¯re definitely going to be friends. You¡¯ve got the same free soul as me."


    "Free soul?" Astar echoed with a smile.


    "Exactly!" Lukaris said confidently. "I can¡¯t stand those stuck-up types who don¡¯t know how to relax. Think about it ¡ª you woke up in a forest, with no memories, and instead of losing your mind, here you are, laughing like it¡¯s no big deal!"


    "I don¡¯t even need to imagine it," Astar replied with a laugh, gesturing toward his empty wine bowl. He truly felt like he was sitting next to a bizarre version of James ¡ª one with pointed ears, horns, and a tail.


    Sirael just shook her head, covering her face with a hand, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a faint smile.


    "I get the feeling you two are hitting it off way too fast¡­"


    Ignoring his sister¡¯s remark, Lukaris splashed more wine into Astar¡¯s bowl and declared proudly:


    "As soon as we get to the city, I¡¯m taking you to a tavern! You should know, I¡¯m pretty skilled when it comes to charming the ladies, haha!"


    "Are you sure we didn¡¯t know each other before?" Astar asked with a grin, slinging an arm over Lukaris¡¯s shoulders. "If you¡¯re buying, I¡¯m all in!"


    "At this rate, I won¡¯t want to let you go! I¡¯ll drag you along with us to the Order of Wanderings and Trade! How could I live peacefully, knowing my spirit brother is wandering the world alone?"


    "And who said I¡¯m against it? I don¡¯t remember a damn thing anyway," Astar replied cheerfully.


    With a mix of exasperation and amusement, Sirael stood up and walked over to Astar¡¯s other side. She gently tugged on his hand, coaxing him to face her. There was a mix of reprimand and care in her expression.


    "Don¡¯t listen to my brother¡¯s nonsense," Sirael said sternly, frowning. "Or you¡¯ll end up a drunkard and a womanizer who causes trouble for everyone."


    Lukaris, hearing that, threw his hands dramatically toward the sky as if he¡¯d been unjustly accused of unspeakable sins.


    "Oh, my dear sister! How can you slander your beloved brother like this?" he exclaimed in a mock-hurt voice. "I¡¯m not a womanizer ¡ª I¡¯m simply someone who knows how to enjoy life!"


    "If that were true, I could sleep peacefully! Care to explain why we have to search for your ''free soul'' in taverns and gutters in every city we visit?!" Sirael shot back, pulling Astar closer to her. "Now I also have to make sure you don¡¯t drag anyone else into your little escapades!"


    Astar couldn¡¯t help laughing as he watched the brother and sister trade jabs. The moment felt so light, so full of life, that he truly began to feel like a part of their world.


    "Honestly, I kind of like it," Astar admitted with a small smile. "It¡¯s fun watching you two bicker."


    That clearly delighted Lukaris. His eyes lit up with genuine joy, and he once again threw an arm around Astar¡¯s shoulder.


    "Exactly what I was saying! We¡¯re like two peas in a pod!" he laughed, nodding toward his sister, who simply rolled her eyes. "If you¡¯re anything like me, then your life is going to be just as easy!"


    "Easy?" Astar echoed with a smirk. "Did you see what I just went through?"


    "And did you see what I¡¯ve been through?" Lukaris shot back with a sly wink. "Trust me, my friend ¡ª living with such a strict sister is no walk in the park! Besides, I have a rare and precious talent ¡ª I can find a reason to laugh in any situation. Took me a while to earn that one, you know!"


    Some of the warriors watching from nearby looked amused. They exchanged glances and, for the first time in what seemed like ages, allowed themselves to relax. On the road, their young lords were usually tense or focused, but now they looked¡­ alive. As if something had shifted in their mood since Astar arrived. As if they were back home, not lost in the woods.


    "If this keeps up," one warrior whispered to another, "that guy will be part of the group in no time."


    "Who says he isn¡¯t already?" the other replied with a soft smile.


    The camp gradually settled into a quiet evening. The sounds of the night forest grew more distinct, and a warm, almost homely atmosphere took over around the fire. For the first time in many months, Astar felt true comfort¡ªthe peace and freedom he had always loved and longed for.