"Kaela," Saelari’s voice called out from behind, light but curious.
"Yeah?" Kaela replied, glancing over her shoulder.
Kaela froze mid-step.
She’d forgotten that detail wasn’t supposed to slip. Her lips parted, then shut again.
Her mind jittered like a malfunctioning machine—if she were a robot, this would be her blue screen.
"Uh—ehh... ehhh..." Kaela stammered, her expression stiffening in panic.
"It’s okay, okay! You don’t have to tell us," Theryn quickly interjected with a small laugh.
She placed a finger to her lips in a shhh gesture, her golden slit eyes glimmering like a feline in dim light. "We’ll keep it secret. Promise."
"...Thank you," Kaela murmured shyly, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Dirga, walking slightly ahead, eyed the three of them out of the corner of his vision.
How old are these women, anyway?
They didn’t feel like humans. Not really. Their presence, especially Kaela’s, was... ancient.
He thought back to what Naya once told him.
"Asking a woman her age is a one-way ticket to Hell."
He was already in Hell. No need to dig deeper.
They pressed forward.
The corridor stretched into silence—its air dense with ancient Zarion, each breath feeling like it brushed against invisible wires. Then—
Bat-like creatures exploded from the ceiling, wings slicing through the shadows.
They were fast—but not fast enough.
Dirga reacted instantly. His fist shot out like a comet.
A creature splattered against the wall. Another dove in from the left—Dirga spun, elbow flashing—
The third tried to rise from beneath, but Dirga stomped down, gravity around his leg amplifying—
BOOM. The stone floor cracked beneath the weight.
"Left, right, even above and below..." Dirga muttered, scanning the air. "This feels like a damn maze."
"Feels like one of those spiral puzzle worlds from Sector-9L. All illusion and no logic," Saelari muttered, ducking under a collapsing stalactite.
Then she blinked. "Wait, maybe it’s logical to them..."
Dirga exhaled through his nose.
The tension, the layout, the shifting architecture—it all felt like a sentient test. No wonder the castle was still feared.
"So," Dirga asked, stepping over a twitching carcass, "are we close to the source?"
"Yeah," Kaela said, nodding with a strange certainty. "It’s just behind that door."
They turned the final corner.
A massive gate stood embedded in the wall—twice the height of any of them.
Black steel etched with spiralling Zarion runes. Twisted devil-face statues snarled from each side, as if frozen mid-scream.
Gold ornaments wove between the lines, pulsing faintly.
It looked like a king’s throne room, the kind you didn’t enter without bleeding first.
Dirga stepped forward, instinct guiding each motion.
"Stay close," he said, voice cold and firm, eyes never leaving the massive gate ahead.
The others fell in silently behind him.
The ancient doors groaned open, revealing a vast chamber.
A hall so enormous it felt like an arena swallowed by darkness.
There was light, but only the faintest glow—like distant stars blinking in a vacuum.
It wasn’t enough to see the whole room, only enough to remind them they were surrounded by something far bigger.
Dirga narrowed his eyes.
Gravity Sensing: Active.
The flow around him shifted.
A presence—massive. Pressing. Heavy enough to bend the space around it.
The Zarion clung unnaturally to the far end of the room.
His ability didn’t show images. It showed weight. Curvature. Resistance.
And what he sensed...
...was far beyond anything he’d encountered.
The pressure bent gravity like a dying star.
"Something... sinister is in there," Kaela whispered. Her voice trembled. Sweat began to pour from her forehead in silent streams. "It’s... watching us."
His hand flicked, and the Crimson Core shifted—reforming into a slender dagger in his palm.
He hurled it forward, guiding its flight with telekinesis.
The blade shimmered as it cut through the dark.
A violent clang. The dagger deflected off something unseen and spiraled back into Dirga’s hand.
Then the room changed.
The light began to brighten—not warm, not inviting. Cold. Clinical. A veil lifted.
And now they could see it.
The creature stood at the far end, towering at over three meters tall.
Its body was grotesque—bloated and swollen, with scales like scorched metal.
A thick tail, dragon-like, slithered behind it, curling like a serpent.
Its stomach split open, revealing a wide, wet mouth full of teeth, twitching and drooling with thick ropes of saliva.
The face—if it could be called that—was a round orb with a single eye. Not blinking vertically, but horizontally—left to right, like a camera shutter.
A massive crimson halberd, jagged and pulsing, like it had been forged from living veins.
Dirga’s instincts screamed.
Stronger than the Oni. Stronger than anything I’ve faced so far.
The creature’s voice came from the mouth in its gut, spitting saliva as it laughed. Its eye twitched violently.
"Ahh... visitors. Good, good."
It stepped forward, each footfall making the stone groan beneath its weight.
"Tell me—" it hissed, saliva bubbling—
"Which one of you will be the vessel for our Lord?"
The last word hadn’t finished echoing before it slashed the air.
A blood-red cleave tore through the space—energy and Zarion converging into a line of pure violence.
Dirga’s body moved before his mind could.
Crimson Core: Shield Form.
The core warped in his hand, expanding into a massive, dense tower shield glowing with dark red runes.
He slammed it into the stone and braced.
The impact sent cracks through the ground. The force slammed against the shield like a tidal wave made of blades. Metal screamed.
Dirga gritted his teeth. Muscles locked. His boots slid inches back.
The shield held... but just barely.
A long, glowing scar ran across its surface—the first time the Crimson Core had ever been marked.
Dirga’s eyes narrowed.
This wasn’t just another monster.
This was something that had devoured vessels before.