Darkness screamed.
That was the only way Itekan could describe it.
The Night-Shrill Covet Blood Bats poured through the cavern like a living tide, their shrieks overlapping into a single piercing frequency that rattled bone and thought alike. The sound wasn't just loud—it pressed. It wormed into the skull, scraping against concentration, against intent.
"Get into formation!" Nuelle shouted.
Too late.
The first wave struck.
Blades of compressed air—sonic crescents—slammed into the stone floor where Itekan had been standing a heartbeat earlier. He twisted mid-step, shadow snapping beneath his feet as Shadow Flicks carried him sideways. Stone detonated into dust.
They were faster than he'd expected.
And there were far more.
Hundreds of red eyes flickered in the darkness, each bat no larger than a child's torso—but together they became something else. A storm. A single organism with too many wings.
Itoyea gritted his teeth. "This isn't a swarm. It's coordinated."
"Of course it is," Bukanami snapped, SE already flaring along his arms. "Everything in this dungeon wants us dead."
"No," Nuelle said, eyes narrowed, ears bleeding faintly as she filtered sound through sheer will. "This is different. They're herding us."
As if in response, the bats shifted.
The ceiling darkened.
Then descended.
Itekan felt it then—a familiar resistance. His earlier fight had drained more than he liked to admit. Hunguon Kaien wasn't something he could just throw around. It demanded intent and time.
And time was exactly what they didn't have.
"Itekan!" Nuelle shouted. "They're charging SE for a dive—now!"
He moved without thinking.
Shadow's Hand erupted upward, dozens of black appendages lashing into the air, skewering bats mid-flight. Bodies dropped—but for every one that fell, two more filled the gap.
He contemplated using Starbreaker.
Not yet.
Not like this.
The bats screamed again—higher, sharper—and then dove as one.
---
The teleportation ended violently.
Kutote barely had time to orient himself before he collapsed to one knee, Illiopo's weight nearly tearing his shoulder out of its socket. Cheim stumbled beside them, Konacho hitting the ground hard, the breath knocked clean from her lungs.
They weren't in the dungeon anymore.
But they weren't safe.
The space around them was wrong—compressed, unstable. The ruins' interference clung to them like static, delaying sensory feedback.
Illiopo convulsed once.
Kutote froze.
"No—no, no, no—" He pressed both hands down, forcing SE into Illiopo's shattered SS, trying to stabilize the flow. It was like pouring water into a cracked vessel.
Blood bubbled at Illiopo's lips.
Cheim dropped beside them, hands shaking as she activated her rune again—not to create, but to hold. To force structure where collapse threatened.
"Stay with us," she whispered. "Please—just—stay—"
Konacho staggered upright, panic clawing at her chest. "Where are we? Kutote—where did you take us?"
Kutote didn't answer.
He was staring at Illiopo's chest.
Or rather—what wasn't moving.
SE signatures flickered erratically, then dipped.
"No," Kutote said hoarsely. "You don't get to die here. Not like this."
He searched for the seeds Senior Korimer had pressed into his hands.
He hadn't really looked at them when they'd been given to him in the chaos of the moment, but now he could see clearly what they were.
Bunbun Seeds.
They had high restorative abilities and were usually carried by heroes entering high-ranked dungeons, though they were ridiculously expensive.
Korimer had given him three.
Without a moment's hesitation, Kutote shoved them into Illiopo's mouth. Using his fingers, he pushed the seeds deep into his throat and let them do their work.
The healing wasn't immediate, but Illiopo's face began to flush again as the blood that had drained away started to return.
Kutote let out a long breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.
The hardest part was over.
Now the rest was up to Illiopo.
---
Korimer Ransthrol stood alone.
Shwarer watched him the way one might watch an old blade—evaluating its edge, its worth, whether it still deserved to be drawn.
"You've grown stronger, Young Lord," Shwarer said. It wasn't praise. It was an observation.
Korimer didn't respond.
His SS was fully active now, spread thin but absolute, measuring every breath, every micro-shift in intent from the men in black surrounding him.
They hadn't attacked.
That was worse.
That meant they were still certain their goal was within reach.
Korimer didn't play here. His hand blazed as he drew Asolith.
"You chose them," Shwarer continued. "Just as Master expected."
Korimer's jaw tightened. "Step aside."
Shwarer tilted his head. "You misunderstand. This was never about stopping you."
"Your father calls for you. Join us. There is something far worse than a mere tournament coming. And the Flame Emperor is planning against it. Everything he does is for the good of all he considers his family."
Korimer had always prided himself on being smart, but right now he was lost.
What was it? What was his father so afraid of that he was willing to kidnap a child barely thirteen years old?
That wasn't the man he had grown up admiring.
What could make one of the five Legends afraid?
"At the cost of how many lives?" Korimer snapped. "I thought the Dead Men's Ship were above this. Is Father really willing to sacrifice a child for our sake? He used to be a hero!"
"He still is," Shwarer replied evenly. "However, the boy carries an ability crucial to the Master's plans."
"What… what is he so afraid of?" Korimer asked, genuine fear creeping into his voice.
Not fear of Shwarer.
Not even fear of his father.
Fear of whatever could make one of the strongest men in the world shiver.
"I will not join you," Korimer said. "I would rather die than take part in any of this!"
Shwarer hesitated—for just a second.
Then he moved.
Not forward.
Sideways.
The dungeon shuddered.
Korimer felt it instantly—a pressure spike, a spatial fold. Shwarer wasn't targeting him.
He was reaching past him.
Toward the teleportation residue.
Korimer reacted on instinct.
The air ignited.
"You will not leave," Korimer said, his voice ringing with command.
Shwarer smiled beneath the mask. "I never planned on leaving."
The men in black stepped forward as one. In what looked like a choreographed dance, they split apart, moving in different directions simultaneously.
Korimer couldn't block them all.
They escaped, diving back into the dungeon to pursue Kutote—while Shwarer moved in for the strike.
With a roar, Korimer charged, Asolith blazing in his hand with uncontainable fury.
And for the first time since arriving at the ruins—
Korimer Ransthrol unleashed his full intent.
---
Back in the cavern, the bats descended.
Nuelle screamed as the sonic wave hit, blood spilling freely now as her hearing pushed beyond safe limits.
"Itekan—now!"
He planted his feet.
Shadow Domain snapped open beneath him, darkness swallowing the ground as gravity inverted for everything but him. Bats spiraled, crashing into one another mid-flight.
It bought them seconds.
Only seconds.
Itekan raised his hand.
Not enough time for Hunguon Kaien.
But maybe—
Something else.
"Itoyea," he said quietly. "On my signal—burn a path."
Itoyea's grin was sharp, desperate. "Gladly."
The bats screamed again.
.
.
.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)