Cold.
That was the first sensation to pierce the fog of Elian's consciousness. Not the biting cold of snow on a mountain peak, but a hollow cold, as if the very temperature of this place had been stolen by something massive.
Elian opened his eyes—or at least, he thought he did. Before him lay only absolute darkness. No moonlight, no glow of knightly aura, not even shadows. The darkness at the bottom of the Abyss of Whispers felt solid, like a black fluid trying to invade his lungs with every breath.
"Huk... hack!"
Elian coughed, expelling a clot of congealed black blood from his throat. Every time his chest moved, the pain from his nerves—burnt by the Blue Poppy extract—exploded anew. However, the drug's effects were fading, leaving behind a pit of exhaustion so deep he felt his soul might be sucked out.
He tried to move his left hand.
Crack.
The sound didn't come from the rocks beneath him, but from inside his own flesh. Elian screamed soundlessly. The Ring of Weight on his finger no longer sat atop his skin. Due to the extreme gravitational pressure during his fall, the ring had torn through the skin tissue and was now wedged between his finger bone and nerves.
He could feel the ring pulsing. It was no longer just providing weight; it had begun to sip the dregs of Mana in Elian's blood, forcing his bone marrow to condense further to withstand the burden that was now internally integrated.
I... am not dead, Elian thought.
He groped around with his trembling right hand. Instead of snow, his fingers touched something rough and porous. Bones. The entire floor of this abyss seemed covered in the fossils of ancient, nameless creatures.
Suddenly, the darkness around him began to whisper.
"Fallen noble...""Tainted blood...""Unwanted Beloved of the World..."
Thousands of voices overlapped, sounding like the skittering of a thousand insect legs across glass. This was why this place was called the Abyss of Whispers. The discarded remnants of the world's memories gathered here, creating mental pollution that could drive even a high-tier mage insane in hours.
However, to Elian, the voices felt different. Amidst the chaotic noise, he felt a gentle pull. It was as if this darkness didn't want to destroy him, but wanted to hide him.
His Nature Sense, which should have been dead from Neural Burnout, suddenly throbbed faintly. It wasn't catching the vibrations of plants or animals, but the vibration of the "sadness" of the earth itself.
"Quiet..." Elian whispered, his voice barely there.
Strangely, the whispers subsided. The darkness around him seemed to hold its breath, making space for the severely wounded "Child of the World."
Elian forced his body to crawl. He couldn't feel his right shoulder at all—likely severely dislocated or shattered. He relied only on his right hand and dragging his legs. Every inch of movement felt like crossing a sea of thorns.
He needed light. He needed shelter. And in this darkness, he sensed a pinpoint of energy, very dim but familiar.
It wasn't holy energy. It was the scent of a Burnt Black Rose.
Vane blood... is there Vane blood here?
Elian's logic began to blur from blood loss and the stimulant's crash. Yet, his instincts led him to a fissure between rock walls covered in dimly glowing black crystals. There, inside a hidden niche, he saw something impossible.
An old, rusted sword, driven into a pile of human bones wearing ancient armor. Tied to the sword's hilt was a tattered piece of silk, still bearing the crest of the Duke Vane family—a far older version, from an era when they were still known as The Blood-Red Guardians.
Elian crawled toward the sword. With the last of his strength, he touched the silk cloth.
Instantly, a vision assaulted him.
He saw a man with a face strikingly similar to his father's, standing in the middle of a battlefield filled with purple Void smoke. The man held this sword, cleaving the sky to seal a dimensional rift.
"The Vane destiny is not to serve the light, Elian. Our destiny is to be the guardians of the gates of hell so the light may continue to shine."
The vision vanished, leaving Elian weeping over the bones of his ancestors. He realized one bitter truth: his family had been cast into the bottom of this abyss centuries ago by those they protected. The Celestia Church, the Solara Empire... they all owed their lives to the Vane bloodline they were now destroying.
The sadness slowly evaporated, replaced by a frozen rage.
"If the world wants me to be a ghost..." Elian gripped the handle of the rusted sword. "Then I will be the most terrifying ghost you have ever seen."
He slumped his body into the niche. He knew he wouldn't be able to move again for a long time. His body began entering a forced hibernation phase to repair the nerve damage.
The ring on his finger glowed pitch black, beginning to envelop Elian's left hand in a hard layer of keratin, forming a sort of black cocoon. This was the defense mechanism of a Child of the World; when the vessel is shattered, nature around it provides the material to rebuild it.
Before his consciousness faded completely, Elian felt a warm presence beside him. Something formless, yet it felt like the embrace of a grieving mother.
Sleep, My Child. Let this darkness guard you. When you wake, you will no longer feel this burden as suffering.
Elian closed his eyes. In the darkness of the Abyss of Whispers, a new legend was sleeping, waiting for the moment he would crawl out not as a human, but as a walking law of nature.
***
POV: Sister Hanna
Rain fell heavily on the small town of Oakhaven.
Inside a quiet little orphanage, Hanna was changing the bandages on the arm of a little girl who kept raving in her sleep. The girl, Elara, had been brought by a mysterious woman a few days ago with a very brief message: "Protect her, forget her name."
Hanna looked at Elara's pale face. This little girl was beautiful, but there was a sorrow so deep on her face, as if her soul were searching for something lost in the distance.
"Brother... don't fall..." Elara mumbled deliriously.
Hanna sighed, wiping Elara's feverish forehead. "Calm down, Ara. You are safe here."
Suddenly, the silver badge placed on Elara's bedside table glowed dimly. The light wasn't holy, nor was it dark. It felt like a heartbeat from very far away.
Hanna was stunned. She felt as though someone was watching from behind the darkness of the rain outside. Someone immensely powerful, yet incredibly lonely.
"Gods..." Hanna whispered. "What really happened in the north?"
She didn't know that thousands of miles away, at the bottom of the deepest chasm, a boy was sacrificing his humanity to ensure the peace in Oakhaven remained unbroken.