Chapter 74: Level 70 Threat, The Unmapped Depths

The wind screamed in Saile’s ears.

The pitch-black void rushed up to meet him. He pulled his arms tight against his chest, keeping his grip firm on the canvas-wrapped hilt of his sword. He calculated the descent, waiting for the exact second to activate his movement skill and break his fall against the unseen cavern walls.

A brilliant flash of silver ignited above him.

Aira closed the gap. The Holy Saintess angled her body through the updraft like a hunting falcon. She reached out, her silver gauntlet grabbing the collar of Saile’s cheap linen tunic.

S-Rank holy magic erupted from her back. Two broad, sweeping wings of hard light flared into the darkness.

The magical wings caught the rushing air, acting as a violent parachute. The sudden deceleration jerked Saile upward. The fabric of his shirt tore slightly.

They were still falling too fast.

The floor of the abyss appeared out of the shadows. It was not rough cavern dirt. It was flat, polished black stone.

"Brace!" Aira shouted.

They hit the ground. The wings of light shattered upon impact, exploding into a shower of harmless golden sparks.

Saile hit the stone and forced his muscles to relax. He suppressed his Diamond-Tier durability, allowing his body to tumble awkwardly across the floor like a frail commoner. His shoulder slammed against the hard rock. A sharp, genuine pain shot down his arm, bruising the tissue.

Aira’s landing was far worse.

Her silver armor screeched against the black stone, throwing sparks into the dark. She rolled several times before crashing into a thick column. The heavy impact knocked the wind from her lungs with a sharp gasp.

A deep, hollow silence settled over the abyss.

The echoing crash of their landing rolled endlessly down the pitch-black tunnels, fading into a quiet, vibrating hum.

Saile sat up. He rolled his injured shoulder, ignoring the dull throb.

The air down here was dead. It carried the scent of ancient dust, stagnant water, and old copper. He looked at the floor beneath his boots. The stone was cut into perfect, seamless obsidian blocks.

This was not a natural cavern. It was architecture.

"Floor ten," Naicul whispered in his mind.

The Fallen God’s voice dropped into a low, dangerous rumble. The cynical amusement was gone.

"Naissac sealed this level," Naicul stated. "We are standing in the foyer of my old home."

Saile pushed himself up to his feet. He looked toward Aira.

The Saintess rested on one knee. She coughed, a thin trail of blood leaking from her bottom lip. The pristine silver plating on her left pauldron was deeply dented from hitting the pillar.

She forced herself to stand, drawing her broadsword. The steel ignited with a fierce white heat, illuminating the dark hall.

"Are you injured, Gabriel?" Aira asked. Her breathing was shallow, favoring her bruised ribs.

"I am fine," Saile replied softly. He played the part, keeping his voice tight with manufactured fear. "Where are we?"

"The restricted depths," she answered. Her golden Eyes of Truth scanned the shadows, tracking the dense, ambient mana currents. "We are far beyond the safety arrays. The proctors cannot track us here."

A low, vibrating growl shook the obsidian tiles.

Saile’s senses caught the threat a fraction of a second before Aira did. The ambient mana in the hallway shifted, pulled toward a heavy, approaching mass.

Heavy, thudding footsteps echoed from the dark corridor ahead. The grinding sound of stone scraping against stone filled the air.

The shadows parted.

The beast walked on two thick, trunk-like legs. It stood twenty feet tall, forcing it to hunch its shoulders beneath the high vaulted ceiling.

Four muscular arms hung from its torso. Its skin was a sickening amalgamation of pale, dead flesh and hardened gray bedrock. The rock grew directly out of its skin, forming jagged plates of natural armor over its chest and joints. It had no eyes. A smooth, pale dome of flesh covered the top half of its head, ending in a maw filled with grinding, flat teeth.

Golden system screens projected a harsh red warning in Saile’s vision.

[Fatal Threat Detected!]

[Target: Gargantua]

[Level: 70 (Demigod Tier)]

[Talent: Light Devourer]

Saile stared at the floating text. Level 70. This was an ancient guardian, a relic left behind to guard the lower armory.

Aira stepped quickly in front of Saile. She raised her glowing broadsword, placing her armored body between the Demigod beast and the terrified commoner.

"Stay behind me, Gabriel," Aira ordered. Her voice carried the unyielding authority of a zealot ready to die for her faith. "Do not engage."

The Gargantua turned its blind, pale head toward them. It smelled the holy magic radiating from Aira’s blade. The beast let out a deafening, hollow roar that rattled Saile’s teeth.

Aira did not hesitate.

She squeezed the hilt of her sword. Her SSS-Rank core flared to life, pouring a blinding torrent of holy energy into the steel.

"Judgment," Aira commanded.

She thrust the blade forward. A searing spear of concentrated white light erupted from the tip of her sword. The spell illuminated the entire subterranean hall, blindingly bright. It shot across the room and struck the Gargantua squarely in the center of its stone-plated chest.

The impact kicked up a cloud of pulverized rock.

Aira lowered her stance, panting softly. She waited for the beast to collapse.

The dust cleared.

The Gargantua stood perfectly still. The holy fire had not burned its pale flesh. The searing light had simply sunk into its skin.

The beast let out a deep, rumbling purr.

Its chest expanded. The pale muscle fibers bulged and snapped, re-knitting themselves instantly thicker. The gray rock covering its four arms shifted, growing darker and denser. The beast absorbed the S-Rank holy mana, converting the destructive energy into raw physical fuel.

It grew another two feet taller.

"What?" Aira whispered. Her golden eyes widened in pure horror.

Her Eyes of Truth read the beast’s mana flow. She saw the holy light dissolving into a dark, empty void inside the creature’s core.

"It eats light," Naicul noted clinically in Saile’s mind. "The Church relies on a single element. Naissac bred these guardians down here specifically to resist his own Paladins. Her magic is useless."

The Gargantua lunged.

For a creature forged of stone and dead flesh, its speed was terrifying. It crossed the hall in two heavy strides.

The beast swung its lower right fist in a brutal, sweeping hook.

Aira raised her sword, shifting her weight to parry the strike. Her technique was flawless. Her angle was perfect.

But the gap in physical stats was absolute.

The boulder-like fist collided with the steel blade.

Clang!

The kinetic force was overwhelming. Aira’s sword bent sharply under the pressure. The raw shockwave traveled straight down the blade, slamming into her arms.

Pop.

Aira’s right shoulder dislocated with a sickening sound. Her silver gauntlet crumpled inward, biting into her wrist.

The sheer force threw her backward. She flew through the air, crashing violently into an obsidian pillar. The impact cracked the ancient stone.

Aira dropped to the floor like a broken doll. She gasped, fighting for air. A bruised lung made her breathing ragged and shallow. She tried to lift her sword, but her right arm hung completely useless at her side.

"She is dead," Naicul stated flatly. "Let the beast crush her. We can use the distraction to slip deeper into the armory."

Saile looked at the bleeding Saintess.

She was the Church’s greatest weapon. She belonged to the faction that had ordered the burning of Orali. She represented everything he intended to destroy.

But she had also jumped into an endless abyss just to save a C-Rank commoner she

barely knew.

The Gargantua loomed over her fallen body. The beast raised all four of its heavy, rock-plated arms. It interlocked its fists, preparing to bring them down in a lethal, crushing strike that would turn the Saintess into a smear of red paste.

Aira looked up at the descending shadow. Her golden eyes flickered. She gritted her teeth, refusing to scream.

Saile stepped out of the shadows.

He unbuckled the thick canvas strap across his chest. He let the wrapping fall away, dropping it onto the black stone floor.

He grasped the exposed, pitch-black hilt of the Calamity Fang.

Saile did not draw the blade yet. He walked forward, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the obsidian tiles.

The timid slouch melted away from his shoulders. His spine straightened. The cold, unfeeling apathy of the Sovereign returned, burying the terrified orphan.

He squeezed his EX-Rank core. He pushed a massive surge of raw, freezing dark mana into his throat.

The silver elven choker sparked. A thin fracture lined the metal as the artifact struggled to contain the sudden, overwhelming pressure. He forced the dark magic through the filter, compressing the black lightning so tightly that it began to hum with a violent, vibrating frequency.

To the naked eye, a blinding halo of white light erupted around his body.

But it was a lie. It was highly condensed, pure destruction wearing a holy mask.

The Gargantua stopped its downward strike. The blind beast turned its pale head toward the sudden spike in mana. It smelled the light. It smelled food.

Aira blinked through the blood in her eyes. She looked past the towering monster.

She saw Gabriel.

The weak, timid boy from Class F was gone. He stood thirty feet away, radiating a terrifying, suffocating pressure that made her bruised lungs ache.

"Rest, Saintess," Saile said softly. His cold voice echoed in the dark hall.

He rested his hand on the hilt of his Epic-grade sword. He locked his plain blue eyes on the towering Demigod beast.

"I will handle the bug."