They didn't speak for a while after that.
The tunnel sloped downward so gradually it was almost impossible to notice—except Ren felt it in his chest. The pulse shifted with each step, syncing with something deeper below. Not faster. Not slower. Waiting.
Lira finally broke the silence. "…If we keep going, we're not coming back the same."
"…We already aren't," Ren said.
She didn't argue.
The walls changed first. The stone grew smoother, less fractured, like this part of the Depths hadn't been touched by time the same way. The faint runes disappeared entirely. No glow. No markings. Just bare stone.
"…That's worse," Lira muttered.
"…Means this part doesn't need them," Ren replied.
They continued. Then the path ended. Not blocked. Not collapsed. It simply stopped—a clean edge cut across the tunnel, beyond it a vast open drop. No bottom. No visible floor. Just darkness that didn't reflect light.
Lira stepped back immediately. "…No."
Ren stepped closer. The moment he did, his core pulsed sharply. The darkness below responded—not visually, but he felt it. Looking back.
"…There's something down there," he said.
"Obviously," Lira replied. "And we're not jumping into it."
Ren didn't answer. Because something else caught his attention. A line. Thin. Faint. Stretching across the edge of the drop. Almost invisible.
"…Do you see that?" he asked.
Lira squinted. "…See what?"
Ren crouched slightly, focusing. The line wasn't physical—not stone, not rope. It shimmered faintly when he looked at it directly. "…A path," he said.
"…There is no path."
"…There is."
He stepped forward.
"Ren—"
His foot stopped just before the edge. The line pulsed. His core answered. The connection snapped into place instantly. "…It only shows if you can respond to it," he said quietly.
Lira stared at him. "…That's not comforting."
"…No."
He took a step forward. Into nothing. For a split second there was no ground—then something caught. His foot landed. On nothing. But it held.
Lira's eyes widened. "…You're standing on air."
"…Not air." Ren looked down. The line beneath his foot glowed faintly now, reacting to him. "…It's like the formations," he said. "…But different."
"Of course it is."
He took another step. Then another. Each one triggered a faint glow beneath his feet, revealing more of the path as he moved. Lira stood at the edge, staring. "…You expect me to walk on invisible nothing?"
Ren didn't look back. "…You've followed me this far."
"…That's not the same thing."
He stopped. "…Trust me."
Silence. Then—
"…I hate you," she muttered.
A step. Nothing. Then her foot caught. She froze. "…Oh."
"…Yeah."
She moved closer behind him, slower than usual. "…If I fall, I'm blaming you."
"…Fair."
They moved together along the invisible path, suspended over the endless drop. The darkness below didn't move. Didn't shift. But the deeper they went, the heavier it felt—like something vast was directly beneath them. Waiting. Watching.
Ren's core pulsed harder with each step, the fragments inside him reacting more clearly now. Almost guiding him. Not forcing. Leading.
"…It's pulling you again, isn't it?" Lira asked.
"…Yeah."
"Still think that's a good thing?"
Ren didn't answer immediately. "…No." A pause. "…But it's the only direction we have."
The path curved slightly. Downward. Always downward.
Then the first disturbance. The line beneath Ren's foot flickered—just for a second. He stopped instantly. "…Don't move," he said.
Too late. Lira shifted slightly behind him. The line under her foot dimmed.
"…Ren."
"…I know."
The darkness below reacted. A slow ripple spread outward, like something had noticed the instability. "…We triggered something," Lira said.
"…Yeah."
The path flickered again—longer this time. Ren's core pulsed violently in response, fragments flaring as if trying to stabilize the connection. "…Stay exactly where you are," he said.
"I am!"
The ripple below grew stronger. Something moved. Far beneath them. Too large to see clearly. But unmistakable.
Lira's voice dropped. "…Tell me that's not coming up."
Ren didn't lie. "…It is."
The line beneath them flickered again. Unstable. Breaking.
"…Then fix it!" she snapped.
Ren clenched his jaw. "…I'm trying."
He focused inward—on the core, on the fragments, on the connection. For the first time, he didn't just react. He pushed back. Mana surged through him, not wild, not leaking, but controlled enough to reach outward. To match the path.
The line beneath his feet flared. Stabilizing. For a moment.
"…It's working," he said.
"…For how long?" Lira asked.
The answer came from below. A shape, rising. Slow. Massive. The darkness itself seemed to bend around it.
Ren's expression hardened. "…Not long enough."
The path ahead flickered violently. Then split—multiple lines branching outward into the darkness.
"…Great," Lira muttered. "Now it's a maze."
Ren's core pulsed once. Sharp. Clear. One path glowed slightly brighter than the others. "…This way," he said.
"You're sure?"
"…No." A pause. "…But it's reacting to me."
"…That's becoming a pattern I don't trust."
"Same."
But he moved anyway. Faster now. Because behind them, the thing below was getting closer.
And the path was starting to collapse.