Chapter 121: Greetings from Beneath the Abyss

What on earth is going on?

The turn of events had come so abruptly that, even now, Amy Ulysses felt a lack of reality.

Whether it felt real or not was irrelevant at this moment. Although his "Omen of Death" had provided no warning, the boy did not believe that the grotesque, black-purple tentacles binding his limbs were merely trying to take him home as a guest, nor did he believe that the void of darkness before him was a place of benevolence.

So... what should he do next?

The young Scion of Glory narrowed his eyes. In the impenetrable darkness, he could faintly hear the sound of something damp and foul slithering about. Even through the half-torn trench coat he wore, he could feel their greed and longing for this fresh, living flesh.

What should he do?

He could not summon any strength in his body. It was not due to a curse, nor was it a lack of stamina; it was simply that he could not find a point of leverage, as if he were being held firmly by several masters of grappling. He was utterly like a ragdoll—no, a ragdoll at the mercy of tentacles—with no room for resistance.

At least, that was true for anyone else.

Even when faced with such an unfavorable situation, Amy’s heart did not waver in the slightest. It was not because his will was as firm as a rock, but simply because he was… well-prepared.

The Omen of Death might be useless against enemies whose forms were impossible to describe, but he possessed a trump card capable of reversing the outcome.

That was the short sword, Darkblood.

The sword of light and flame that the Ancients once used to shatter the chaos of darkness.

And the First Flame.

The nascent fire pulsing slowly within his chest was the last trace of the Hermitica spark left in this world.

If the situation turned dire, he would immediately break the seal on the short sword Darkblood and incite the nascent fire that beat in rhythm with his heart. Even if he lacked the power of the Ancients to shatter the darkness, dealing with a sealed monster within the territory of Order should not be a problem... right?

The reason he felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of uncertainty was simple—the boy had discovered a blind spot in his own cognition. The monster sealed by three chains... while unlikely, he hoped it was not truly the nameless, unspeakable horror he had glimpsed in his Omen of Death, the one that would drag all of Hermitica into an abyss of destruction.

Surely not.

Such a thing was as absurd as stepping out of a beginner’s village in a game and immediately encountering a hidden boss from the end-game map.

Though he did not understand why there would be a beginner’s village in a game, nor what a "strategic-level resource" like an end-game map had to do with this, nor even what a "hidden boss" specifically referred to, the thought that flashed through his mind undoubtedly reflected his anxiety.

What if?

Once this thought took root, it felt as though it had taken hold in the depths of his heart, impossible to shake off. And as time passed, this dread and unease, like the approaching footsteps of the Grim Reaper, caused the gloom in Amy’s heart to intensify.

Something was wrong.

Even though the Omen of Death had not yet issued a warning, and he felt no immediate danger from the tentacles dragging him into the depths, he felt like a rabbit that had stumbled into a predator's hunting ground. Even though the predator had shown no malice toward him, the innate survival instinct of a living being was screaming:

Run! Get out of here!

It was likely not an illusion.

Calming his mind and experiencing his body's instinctual fear of something beyond comprehension, the Scion of Glory confirmed this. Though he did not yet know what secrets lay beneath this near-infinite darkness, a life is only lived once; there was no need to put himself in harm's way.

With this thought, he finally made up his mind.

He took a deep breath.

His heart beat violently like an erupting volcano, and the nascent fire in his chest, as if stoked with excessive fuel, surged upward with a "bang."

Then, the boy opened his eyes.

His pitch-black pupils reflected a roaring crimson flame. He radiated light and heat like a miniature sun. At this moment, the black-purple tentacles wrapped around him seemed to encounter a natural predator; under the brilliant glare, they twisted and recoiled downward.

Trying to run? Not so easy.

Amy did not miss the opportunity. The moment he regained control of his body, he grabbed a tentacle that was frantically trying to pull away, watching it struggle and shrink under the light and heat—which were far from intense—until it finally burned into a pile of black embers.

What kind of monster is this?

Is it an extension of some entity, or some evil thing lurking in the darkness?

The Scion of Glory had no answer.

But now was not the time to worry about that. After activating the nascent fire pulsing in his chest, he felt stronger than ever before. Even knowing this was merely an illusion born from a sudden surge of power, for a brief moment, he truly felt that he... could do anything.

It must be said that using a powerful force that does not belong to oneself is easy to get addicted to.

But Amy had reason to believe that if the price required to awaken the nascent fire were made public, even those with the firmest resolve would think twice—or thrice—before using it.

Because—

The sacrifice offered in exchange for this power is the life of the user.

This made him feel somewhat awkward. Truth be told, his current combat strength was enough to occupy a place in Hermitica, but unfortunately, compared to other Scions of Glory, his shortcomings were too obvious: the Omen of Death could only be triggered passively; the sword that shatters darkness used his internal Blood of Order as fuel; and this nascent fire burned his lifespan, vitality, or whatever else was sacrificed as fuel.

If he truly encountered an opponent with poor compatibility, he wouldn't even be able to run away.

However, there was no need to worry too much. If he really encountered a dangerous situation, although both the nascent fire and the sword of light and flame required heavy costs to use, it was insignificant compared to a life that could only be lived once.

Although he seemed unqualified to say this... it was truly what he thought.

The more one experiences death, the more one understands the preciousness of life.

Just as he had mentioned in his conversation with Ignaty: being alive is a person's greatest asset. Regardless of poverty or hardship, whether suffering from insults or condemnation, even if one's dignity is trampled into the dirt, as long as one is alive—no matter how humbly—there is hope for the future, and there are infinite possibilities.

When a person dies, nothing remains.

For some reason, Amy thought of the traveler who had died by his blade, and his heart felt a pang of melancholy—but in the next moment, he brushed the dust from his heart and refocused his attention on the bizarre space in which he found himself.

Then, he frowned.

Darkness, still endless, boundless darkness.

Although he had awakened the nascent fire, he was like a lone firefly in this empty, silent void, burning himself in the endless night, lighting a minuscule, ethereal flame that flickered precariously in the dark.

But what was even more incredible was the distortion of space. Though his feet touched nothing, he did not fall; he strangely remained suspended in mid-air, standing weirdly in the void. Yet, mere strangeness was not enough to make the boy feel troubled. What truly made him frown was the spatial inversion or the confusion of perception existing here.

Standing still here, he might not notice anything, but once he moved—whether up, left, right, forward, or backward—he would eventually be guided by some mysterious force toward the bottomless abyss.

The further down he went, the closer he was to death.

Unlike before, the boy who had awakened the nascent fire could now faintly perceive something slumbering beneath the abyss.

It was an absolute horror, an enemy that must never be encountered—

Looking down into the abyss with trepidation, the tangible darkness seemed like a squirming chaos in his flaming black eyes. Beneath it lay the very thing he had glimpsed in his Omen of Death, the nameless chaotic evil that would turn Hermitica into a dead zone on earth.

There was no other way.

Even in the state of burning his life to awaken the nascent fire, he had no confidence that he could inflict even the slightest damage on the monster he had glimpsed—a power that completely transcended imagination. The existing level system of humanity was a joke to it. Even the strongest person he had ever seen—the young girl with the name of Pandora who seemed to hold a special status among the Dark Ministers—would likely not be able to withstand a single glance from it.

So, draw the sword!

Amy Ulysses sighed softly, then whispered the activation key.

"Vestiasolin."

Almost the moment the words fell, a brilliance more radiant than ever pierced through the darkness. The boy, holding the sword with one hand, could feel the joy of the nascent fire in his chest, which had become unprecedentedly active as if it had received a summons. He could even feel the Dawn Sword he wielded undergo a remarkable change under the blessing of the nascent fire—an endless stream of power surged from his chest into his limbs, into his veins, turning into light, into heat, into roaring fuel!

Then, he swung the sword—

The darkness of the firmament was sliced in two, like a watermelon at a summer festival. The roaring flames directly dyed the world above as bright as day.

And in the center of the shattered world, the boy remained still, his face cold.

"Overdid it, didn't I..."

Watching the spectacle before him, which far exceeded his expectations, Amy Ulysses could not help but mutter to himself. But in the next moment, the expression on his face stiffened. Forget about his body; the bone-chilling cold almost froze his very thoughts.

Amidst the horror that transcended life and death, he faintly sensed a certain entity’s attention upon him.

And... a helpless anger.

In an instant, he understood.

—This was a greeting from the depths of the abyss.