The tunnels were a nightmare made real. They were not hewn from stone, but seemed to be worn from a strange, porous obsidian that drank the light. The air was cold and carried a metallic tang that coated the tongue. Strange, phosphorescent fungi provided the only illumination, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to watch them pass.
Lyra held Haruto's hand, her touch a steadying anchor in the oppressive darkness. Vorlak moved with an unnerving silence ahead of them, his form blending with the shadows in a way that was different from Haruto's magic—more primal, less controlled.
"The stone here is steeped in the Core's influence," Vorlak explained without looking back.
"It masks our presence from the mages above. But do not touch the walls for long. It whispers to those who listen." After what felt like an eternity, they reached a grate that opened into a well-lit corridor.
Through it, they could see a heavily guarded door—Kaito's chambers. The plan was simple in its complexity.
Haruto would use his shadows to temporarily disorient the guards, creating a brief window. Lyra would use a subtle elven charm to make them forget the moment of confusion, a delicate spell that required immense focus. Meanwhile, Haruto and Vorlak would slip inside.
The execution was flawless. A wave of unnatural darkness swept down the hall, and the guards stumbled, clutching their heads.
As Lyra's soft, melodic hum drifted from the grate, their eyes glazed over for a second. In that instant, a shadow slid under the door and Haruto, pulling Vorlak with him, phased through the keyhole.
Kaito was practicing his sword forms, his Sun-Blade cutting through the air. He spun around as they materialized, his eyes wide with shock and fury. "You!" he snarled, the blade flaring brightly.
"I knew you'd come to finish what you started, demon!" "Listen to us, Kaito," Haruto said, his hands raised, shadows coalescing around him defensively. "We're not here to fight."
"We are here to show you," Vorlak intoned. Before Kaito could react, the demon slammed his hand onto the floor. A complex, violet magic circle erupted around them. At the same moment, Haruto placed his hands on Kaito's temples, not with force, but with a conduit of his power. The world dissolved. Kaito was plunged into a vision.
He saw the Abyssal Core in all its terrifying glory, a vortex of screaming energy that threatened to unravel his very soul. He felt its infinite hunger, its desire to consume all light, all life, all hope. Then, he saw Valerius, not as a regent, but as a desperate man, his ritual not one of noble purification, but of arrogant binding.
He saw the ritual fail, as Vorlak had predicted, and the Core's energy exploding outwards, vaporizing the capital, then the kingdom, then spreading like a plague across the continent. He saw the light—his light—being twisted and devoured, used as a catalyst for the end of everything. The vision was overwhelming, a sensory and spiritual assault. Kaito screamed, a raw sound of terror and disillusionment.
He fell to his knees, his Sun-Blade clattering to the floor, its light extinguished. When he looked up at Haruto, his eyes were no longer filled with arrogant certainty, but with a horrified understanding. "It was all... a lie?" he whispered, his voice broken.
"Everything?" "The threat is real," Haruto said, his own voice strained from channeling the horrific vision.
"But the enemy was never just me, or the demons. The enemy is the abyss, and the fool who seeks to wield it." Kaito looked from Haruto's earnest face to Vorlak's grim one. The foundations of his world had been shattered. Slowly, shakily, he picked up his sword.
This time, it did not flare with aggressive light, but glowed with a steady, determined radiance. "What," he said, his voice finding a new, harder edge, "do we need to do?"