Jeather's eyes snapped open, but for several seconds, he saw nothing but a crushing, absolute darkness.
The first thing that registered wasn't sight or sound, but the weight. It wasn't the familiar, tactical fatigue of a [Total Fusion] or the mana-exhaustion he had grown used to. This was a celestial density that felt as though he had swallowed a dying sun. Every breath was a labor; his lungs felt like they were inflating against walls of solid iron. The pressure sat behind his ribs, a throbbing, radiant mass that pulsated in sync with his heartbeat, radiating a cold, heavy heat through his marrow.
He was lying on a bed of damp, luminescent moss. The air was thick, smelling of ancient salt, sulfur, and a cold, unrefined mana that tasted like copper on his tongue. As his vision adjusted, he saw no sky. Instead, a jagged, vaulted ceiling of obsidian rock loomed miles above, dripping with glowing, cerulean veins that pulsed like the circulatory system of a subterranean god.
"The weight of a falling star," a voice murmured, echoing through the cavernous space.
Jeather tried to sit up, but his muscles seized in a violent spasm. The silver scars tracing his arms—the remnants of his forced synchronization—flickered with a dim, dying violet light. The mercury-like armor of Saxum had receded, leaving his skin raw and hypersensitive to the crushing atmospheric pressure of the deep.
"Kael?" Jeather croaked. The name felt like grinding stones in his throat.
Kael Dravenhart stepped out from the shadows of a massive, fossilized ribcage that protruded from the cavern wall. The Shadow Warden looked untouched by the chaotic descent through the Void-Rift. His silver hair was perfectly in place, and his dark butler's attire remained crisp, but his eyes—usually sharp and hawk-like—held a cold, detached neutrality.
"The synchronization at the Void-Rift was... more than the vessel could handle," Kael said, walking with measured steps toward the moss bed. "You absorbed the siphoned energy of the Grand-Engine, Jeather. You carry the mass of the Spire's fall within your soul-core. You are, quite literally, the heaviest thing in this Under-World."
Jeather managed to prop himself up on one elbow, his teeth gritted against the pain. "The whale? Cora? Where is the Viremont Sovereign?"
Kael stopped just out of reach. He didn't offer a hand. "The vessel is anchored in the Abyssal Basin, leagues from here. As for the girl... she is safe, for now. But you, Young Master, have become a liability."
Jeather's mind, though sluggish, began to click into its usual calculative rhythm.
"Liability? I just took the Engine. I have the power to—"
"You have the power to be a beacon," Kael interrupted softly. He pulled a dark, translucent card from his sleeve—one Jeather had never seen before. "The Architects built a hierarchy of utility. A Tamer who breaks the system is a hero. A Tamer who becomes the system's weight is a tracking flare. As long as you are with the Sovereignty, the High Circle can track every pulse of your heart through the static. To keep the girl safe, and to preserve the Viremont name, the head must be severed and hidden."
Kael raised the card. A surge of shadow-mana erupted from it, binding Jeather's limbs to the moss like cold, heavy chains.
"You're backstabbing me? After I brought us through the Rift?" Jeather hissed, his mana flickering weakly in a desperate attempt to resist.
"I am disposing of a target to protect the assets," Kael corrected, his voice devoid of malice but filled with a terrifying pragmatism.
"Grow stronger in the silence of the deep. Find the Seven Primal Hives that the system hid from the surface. If you can survive the weight you carry, you will eventually find your way back. And then, your revenge will be a certainty, not a gamble."
Kael flicked his wrist. The ground beneath Jeather dissolved into a swirling vortex of shadow.
"Sleep again, Young Master. When you wake, the world will have forgotten you. Make them regret it."
Jeather fell through a lightless void for what felt like hours, the pressure in his chest increasing until he blacked out. When he woke for the second time, the heat was the first thing he noticed.
He was at the bottom of the Obsidian Crater, a gargantuan impact site lined with black glass. The air was a blistering 180°C, but the residual mercury in his pores kept his flesh from vaporizing. He was alone. No Kael. No Cora.
Jeather ignored the burning air and immediately turned his focus inward. He needed to know what he had left.
"Kael... you bastard," Jeather thought, his mind racing. "You didn't just dump me; you locked the cage."
He closed his eyes and attempted to enter his Beast Habitat Realm. Usually, it was as simple as stepping through a door. Now, it felt like trying to prying open a bank vault with his bare fingernails. The "weight" in his chest acted as a massive, pressurized seal over his soul-core.
With a grunt of pure willpower, he forced his consciousness through the gap.
Inside the Realm, the sky was a bruised, static-filled gray. The vibrant ecosystems he had built were muted, as if covered in a layer of thick, heavy dust.
The Jungle King Gorilla: Jeather found the massive beast near the center of the [Living Quarry]. The Gorilla was sitting perfectly still, its arms crossed. It looked up at Jeather's avatar, its eyes glowing with a suppressed fury. It was alive, but its movements were sluggish, its muscles strained as if it were constantly lifting the entire realm's weight.
The Void-Sovereign Hound: The beast was pacing a tight circle near the [Void Fracture]. It growled when it saw Jeather—a sound of frustration. It could sense the shadows outside, but the seal prevented it from manifesting physically.
Saxum: The little Golem was huddled near the [Aether-Forge]. His metallic skin was dull. "Jett? Everything is heavy. The air is crunchy. I can't find the hammers," Saxum whispered, his voice small and distorted.
Astrael: The Demon-King was perched atop a scorched tree, his emerald flames flickering like a candle in a gale. He didn't speak, but his gaze was a challenge. He was waiting for Jeather to break the seal.
Twelve other beasts—the Aether-Vulture, the Mercury Mimics, the Storm-Cloud Elemental residue—were all present, but they were in a state of forced hibernation. They were "Available," but the cost to summon them had increased tenfold due to the gravitational seal in Jeather's chest.
"I still have them," Jeather whispered, his eyes opening in the physical world. "But I can't use them as cards anymore. I have to pull their power through the cracks."
Jeather stood up, his bones creaking. The weight in his chest was a constant, throbbing reminder of Kael's betrayal. But as he looked at the black glass walls of the crater, his calculative mind began to override the pain.
Kael had wanted him hidden? Fine. Kael wanted him to find the Seven Hives? He would do exactly that. Not because Kael ordered it, but because the Hives were the only things dense enough to help him digest the "Falling Star" within him.
A rasping hiss echoed from the sulfur mists. A shape detached itself from the obsidian walls—a forty-foot monstrosity with three heads and scales that looked like shards of polished night.
[Beast Identified: Void-Stalker Hydra (Rank: Peak-Gold)]
The Hydra's white-slit eyes locked onto Jeather. It sensed the density in his chest. To this creature, Jeather wasn't a human; he was a concentrated core of celestial energy.
"You're the first," Jeather said, his voice cold and devoid of fear.
He didn't reach for a card. He didn't call for a summon. Instead, he reached into his own shadow and visualized the Void-Sovereign Hound. He didn't try to pull the dog out; he pulled the dog's fangs into his own shadow.
The ground around Jeather's feet erupted in a mass of shadow-tendrils, each one tipped with the Hound's soul-tearing teeth.
"Kael thinks he disposed of a liability," Jeather growled, his eyes glowing a predatory violet.
"He just released a monster in a buffet. Come here, Hydra. I need your blood to balance my weight."
As the Hydra lunged, Jeather didn't move. He stood his ground, a falling star wrapped in human skin, ready to begin the long, bloody climb back to the surface.