Elara stared at the massive greatsword in Lenus's outstretched hand. Even in the lightless alcove, Lenus could "feel" her hesitation through the sudden, rigid stillness of her golden aura. It was a cold, sharp tension that hummed in the air.
"That blade," Elara whispered, her voice tight with a mixture of ancestral reverence and bone-deep disgust. "It is a Claymore of the First Oath. It was forged in the Sun-Citadel and blessed by the High Clerics themselves. To wield the weapon of a fallen brother... to strip it from his cold grip... it borders on the highest sacrilege."
Lenus didn't lower his arm. "Your 'brother' is currently a rotting puppet filled with toxic gas and ancient spite. He doesn't need the sword anymore, Elara. You do."
"It is defiled by the Miasma," she argued, though her hand twitched toward it.
"Then re-consecrate it with the blood of whatever tries to kill us next," Lenus snapped softly. His patience was wearing thin; the "acoustic glare" of the hall—the way every tiny sound bounced a thousand times off the smooth walls—was giving him a pounding migraine. "I can't parry a greatsword with a katana, and my current strength won't let me crack Vanguard plate mail. If we run into another patrol, I need a hammer. This is your hammer. Take it."
Elara let out a slow, trembling breath. The heavy rustle of her leather gambeson shifted as she reached out. Her gauntleted hands closed over the long, leather-wrapped hilt. As she took the weight, the tip of the blade scraped against the stone floor with a dull, heavy shhhk.
"It's heavy," she murmured, her voice vibrating with the strain. "Heavier than Sunbreaker."
"Can you swing it, or am I carrying it?"
Elara adjusted her stance. In the confined space, Lenus "watched" through the displacement of air as she leveled the massive steel. Her golden aura flared, pulsing with a sudden, sharp martial focus.
Whoosh.
She swung the blade in a tight, controlled horizontal arc. The sheer kinetic force of the steel cutting through the stale air created a beautiful, sweeping wave of deep blue acoustic light in Lenus's mental map. It was a slow weapon, lacking the lightning-fast draw of his katana, but the momentum was terrifying. It didn't just cut; it obliterated.
"I can swing it," Elara confirmed, her aristocratic accent hardening.
"Good. Try not to hit me with it. I'm fragile."
Lenus knelt beside the massive, headless corpse of the Hollowed Guard. He sheathed his katana and slid his bare hands under the cold, heavy steel of the knight's breastplate. The smell was a nightmare—oxidized iron, centuries-old crypt dust, and the sweet, cloying scent of advanced rot.
He dug past the rusted chainmail, his fingers sinking into the desiccated, Miasma-soaked flesh. He felt the familiar, vibrating shape of a core, but this one felt... different. It wasn't jagged or organic. It was a perfect sphere, cold as a winter grave, thrumming with a dense, metallic energy.
He wrenched it free with a wet pop.
[Item Acquired: Tarnished Knight's Core]
[Purity: Medium | Danger: High]
[System Note: Do not consume without purification. High risk of 'Hollow' mutation.]
Lenus wiped the black, oily residue onto his tattered haori and slipped it into a deep pocket. "Alright. We need to move. The other two guards are going to reach the end of their patrol route and realize their rearguard has gone silent. When they do, they'll break formation and start hunting."
"Where are we going?" Elara asked, resting the flat of the greatsword against her shoulder. "The Necropolis is a labyrinth. The main gate is on the far side of the Grand Mausoleum, guarded by the entire resting army of the First King."
"We're not going to the gate," Lenus said, stepping out of the alcove. His [Silent Tread] perk was in full effect; he looked like a ghost gliding over the smooth stone, his footsteps producing no echo. "We're taking the plumbing."
"The... what?"
"The aqueduct," Lenus explained, tapping his temple. "The architects needed a way to flush the stagnant water from the upper tiers down into the Abyss to prevent the Miasma from settling in the living quarters. There's a drainage network that bypasses the Mausoleum entirely. It's a straight shot to the lower levels."
In the game, the "Aqueduct Skip" was a legendary speedrun tactic. You had to hit a specific pixel-perfect spot on a wall to reveal a hidden passage. In reality, Lenus just had to listen for the "flaw" in the stonework.
"I don't hear any water," Elara noted, her armor clinking softly as she followed.
"That's because the walls here are ten feet thick," Lenus said. "But water causes erosion. Erosion causes micro-fractures. And fractures alter how sound bounces."
He snapped his fingers. Snap.
The sharp sound rocketed down the grand hallway, expanding in a massive, detailed wireframe of silver light. The vaulted ceilings, the rows of statues, the massive stone pillars—everything lit up.
Lenus wasn't looking at the art. He was looking for the "dead spot."
About sixty yards down, on the right wall, the sonic wave hit a massive stone fresco depicting a battle between angels and demons. But the sound didn't bounce back cleanly. A fraction of the wave was "swallowed" by a hairline crack near the base of the carving.
"Found it."
They reached the fresco. Lenus ran his sensitive fingertips over the cold stone, tracing the jagged edge hidden beneath a layer of ancient dust. He pressed his ear against the cold rock. Through the solid masonry, faint but undeniable, he heard it: the roaring, chaotic thunder of subterranean water.
"It's hollow behind the carving," Lenus said. "The facade is only a few inches thick. I can't break it with my katana—the steel would snap. I need you to smash it."
Elara hefted the massive Claymore. "Inias, the noise will wake every Hollowed Guard in a half-mile radius. We'll be cornered."
"I know," Lenus said grimly, drawing his katana with a soft shing. "Which is why the moment you swing, we aren't sneaking anymore. We're running. Don't stop for anything."
He positioned himself behind her, facing the long corridor. He expanded his [Aura Perception] to its absolute limit. Far down the hall, the rhythmic clank... clank... clank... of the two remaining guards had stopped.
The silence was absolute.
Then came a heavy, scraping sound. The guards were dragging their greatswords. They had turned around. Their cadence had shifted from a patrol march to a rapid, hunting stomp. Clank-clank. Clank-clank.
"They're coming," Lenus said, his voice dropping an octave. "Do it, Elara. NOW!"
Elara didn't hesitate. She widened her stance, planting her boots firmly. She raised the heavy Claymore high over her head, her golden aura blazing with explosive kinetic energy. With a guttural, warrior's shout, she brought the blade crashing down.
CRA-KOOM.
The impact was deafening. To Lenus, it was like a flashbang in a small room. The acoustic explosion blew out his mental map, flooding his senses with a blinding, chaotic white light. The stone fresco shattered, showering them in centuries-old shrapnel.
Behind the ruin, a blast of cold, damp air hit Lenus's face, carrying the deafening roar of a massive river.
"It's open!" Elara yelled over the rushing water.
But the noise had signaled the horde. From the darkness of the corridor, a terrifying, metallic shriek tore through the air—the battle cry of the Hollowed.
Lenus's hearing recalibrated just in time to catch a massive displacement of air. They're fast!
"Inside! Go!" Lenus shoved Elara toward the jagged hole.
She scrambled through, her armor scraping against the broken stone as she tumbled into the dark, wet tunnel beyond. Lenus turned to follow, but his perception flared a violent, warning red.
A colossal greatsword came cleaving out of the darkness, aiming to bisect him. The guard had closed the gap in seconds.
Lenus couldn't dodge—the wall was at his back. He dropped to his knees, feeling the massive blade sheer the air mere millimeters above his scalp. The wind of the strike actually tugged at his hair. The sword smashed into the stone wall, showering him in sparks.
Before the creature could wrench its weapon free, Lenus lunged. He drove his open left palm into the center of the knight's breastplate.
[Skill Activation: Repelling Palm]
A localized shockwave of pure mana threw the massive knight backward. It crashed into the second guard, sending them both tumbling into a chaotic heap of clanking steel.
Lenus didn't wait. He dove backward through the hole.
He hit a slick, moss-covered incline and immediately began to slide. "Inias!" Elara's voice echoed from below. He slid in absolute darkness, hit a patch of rushing water, and was carried downward at terrifying speed.
Behind him, the furious, metallic roars of the guards echoed through the pipes, but they were too bulky to follow.
Lenus plunged over a steep drop, his stomach flipping, before he crashed violently into a deep, freezing pool. The shock knocked the wind from his lungs. He thrashed blindly until a hand grabbed his collar.
Elara hauled him above the surface. Lenus gasped, choking on the metallic-tasting water.
"I have you!" she coughed, her own teeth chattering. "By the Light, it's freezing!"
They dragged themselves onto a narrow, slippery maintenance walkway. Lenus lay on the cold stone, coughing, a manic, exhausted grin on his face.
"We made it," he wheezed. "We're in the central artery."
"Where does it lead?"
Lenus pointed a trembling finger down the dark tunnel toward the distant, muffled roar of the unknown.
"Up, Elara. Past the barricades. Past the army. Next stop... the Ashen Spires."
[Hidden Area Discovered: The Forgotten Arteries]
[EXP Gained: 300]
[Level Progress: 180/250]