The transition hit Hill like a truck. One second the vortex was swallowing him whole in that padded cell; the next, he slammed onto rough stone, the impact rattling his teeth despite carrying no physical injuries from the bridge. He gasped in humid air that scorched his lungs and reeked of sulfur. It was boiling hot.
Coughing, he pushed himself up on shaky limbs. His eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings – not darkness anymore, but an eerie orange-red glow rising from below, casting long shadows that danced across the rock.
He found himself on a wide ledge of dark volcanic rock, uncomfortably warm beneath his palms. To his right, the formation dropped steeply toward a churning lake of molten lava that sent waves of heat rolling upward, making the air shimmer. Looking up, he saw only a cavernous ceiling lost in shadow, menacing stalactites hanging like stone daggers. He was underground. Deep underground.
Panic bubbled up. Kael's words echoed in his mind: Hell.
Yeah, this fits the bill.
Before panic could overwhelm him, the air shimmered again – not with a portal, but with those intricate glowing runes he'd seen on the bridge. They shifted and formed into familiar words that glowed with a dim light:
[Transit Complete: Welcome to Igashia.]
[Harbinger Deity Defeated: Ghost of an Uncertain Future.]
[Deity Ichor Absorbed.]
[WARNING: Harbinger Deity Defiled.]
Defiled? Hill frowned, remembering how he'd torn the ghost's head off. Bullshit. What was I supposed to do, ask it nicely to die? I couldn't even use my arms for crying out loud!
Absorbed ichor? He recalled swallowing that freezing liquid when he bit down. Whatever that meant.
And Harbinger Deity? That thing was a god? The thought made his stomach drop. Usually killing a god meant something really good, but it can also mean that he did something horribly wrong. That warning message was more than enough to let him know which side of the spectrum he was on.
More text appeared:
[Soul Art Manifesting...]
Hill held his breath. A Soul Art – his own power, earned through that nightmare. Despite everything, a flicker of excitement sparked. What would it be? Something to help him survive this hellhole?
[Soul Art Granted: Phantom Hand.]
[Description: The phantom watches. From the unseen, a hand extends to guide, assist, and manipulate when the wielder falters or overlooks. A silent partner in the soul's shadow.]
Phantom Hand? The description was both vague and unsettling. A helping hand from... who exactly? The phantom that watches? It sounded less like a power he controlled and more like something else using him. Great.
If a monster shows up, I'm at the mercy of this mysterious phantom.
More text appeared before he could worry too much:
[Blessing Manifesting...]
A blessing? I've never heard of anything like it... do the awakened usually receive blessings? How can I receive one after supposedly "defiling" a deity? That's weird.
[Blessing Granted: Frost Sentinel.]
[Description: The lingering chill of the vanquished Harbinger suffuses your soul. Attacks may carry the bite of frost, slowing and weakening foes.]
Ice powers from the very cold that nearly killed him. Hill touched his arm, the phantom pain of frostbite still sharp in his memory. That made sense, in a twisted way. An ice ability might actually help in this furnace.
But the glowing text wasn't done. One final line appeared, killing his momentary relief off completely:
[Curse Manifesting...]
His blood ran cold. Curse? Neither Kael nor Mara had mentioned curses, or blessings to be fair. Was this because he "defiled" the ghost? Because of how he won?
That's such bullshit!
[Curse Inflicted: The Undying Brethren.]
[Description: Defilement binds the echo. Many phantoms now cling to your soul, tethered by transgression. When consciousness rests, a hungry phantom stirs.]
Hill stared at the words, dread pooling deep within his gut. Many phantoms... When consciousness rests, a hungry phantom stirs.
So I'm being haunted by MORE than one ghost?
The text faded before he could get answers.
He took a deep, shaky breath. Fine, that's perfectly okay. First, I'll escape this cave. Then I can worry about this curse.
The heat radiating from the lava made the air feel like a furnace. If he didn't find water and cooler air soon, he'd die of heatstroke or dehydration.
Looking around, Hill took in the massive cavern stretching beyond the lava's glow. The molten sea churned far below, dotted with mounds of volcanic rock. The ledge connected to a narrow path winding upward, linking rock formations like a treacherous natural staircase toward the shadowed ceiling.
Not entirely natural, though. When he looked closer, he saw footprints – impressions pressed into solid rock. Hundreds, maybe thousands, overlapping and scattered. However, there was a pattern that he was able to recognize. These footprints belonged to some six-legged beast, like an insect, but way too large.
What kind of bug leaves footprints in rock anyway? It must have occurred when the rock was cooling down... which means that whatever entity that walked on this rock must be immune to the heat.
How unsettling.
Carefully, Hill started climbing, stepping onto the narrow path. The rock burned through his worn shoes, baking his feet. Sweat poured down his face and back, stinging his eyes and soaking his conscript uniform in seconds. The higher he climbed, the hotter it got, pulling moisture from his body at an alarming rate. His head spun, throat already parched.
He climbed from one mound to the next, the path sometimes barely a foot wide, with a sheer drop to the churning lava on one side and the vast cavern wall on the other. Those six-legged footprints were everywhere.
After what felt like hours, muscles crying out in pain and head swimming from the heat, he reached a broader platform about fifty feet up. He leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. And that's when he saw them.
His blood froze, not from any curse but from immediate danger. The source of the footprints.
Creatures crawled across the rock face above him, emerging from dozens of dark holes. Six-legged beasts the size of large dogs, with segmented bodies covered in shimmering black carapaces like obsidian. Sharp spikes lined each body segment. They moved with the jerky gait of giant insects, clinging effortlessly to vertical surfaces. Disturbingly long, whip-like tongues flicked out occasionally, tasting the superheated air. Their mandibles clicked sharply, cutting through the lava's bubbling roar. An odd haze shimmered off their bodies, distorting the air around them.
There were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They crawled in complex patterns, tending to the holes in the wall, seemingly oblivious to him below. As far as he could see in the dim red glow, the entire upper section of the cavern wall writhed with them.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, and cursed inwardly.
"I am so fucked."