Near the Iberian coastal village, there stood an old, dilapidated church.
Ti and the salty sea breeze had left their marks on the building. Ever since the catastrophe that swept across all of Iberia, few had set foot in this place.
When re survival had beco a luxury, faith had lost its aning.
The interior of the church had been stripped bare, moss covered nearly half of its crumbling walls, and the entire structure radiated a post-apocalyptic, desolate atmosphere.
The local villagers rarely visited places like this anymore.
Everyone knew that when hunger struck, begging the gods was far less effective than simply lying down and conserving what little energy they had left.
But today, on an otherwise unremarkable day, this long-abandoned church welcod an unexpected visitor.
A figure, entirely cloaked in black, staggered through the broken, wide-open doors, gasping for breath.
Leaning against a collapsed pillar, he took deep, heavy breaths.
He hadn't expected that simply investigating the ocean's anomalies—following those Sea Terror to the fishing village—would lead him to such a shocking discovery.
The Sea Terror's rampage had been triggered by the presence of an Abyssal Hunter in the village.
And that scent—there was no way he could mistake it.
He had to inform his comrades that another Abyssal Hunter had survived, even if… she seed a little off sohow.
As for that monstrous boy, he was another matter altogether.
If there was any chance to study him, the benefits to their research would be imasurable.
But first, he needed to relocate his most important research materials—this hideout was no longer safe.
Of course, if he could manage to gain sothing extra in the process, that would be even better.
The real reason for his panic, however, was the girl who had been relentlessly pursuing him—like a hunting dog on his scent.
She was frighteningly skilled at tracking.
All it took was a single glance in her direction—watching her and that boy among the Sea Terror—for her to notice him.
And then, she had chased him.
Not at full speed, even though she could have caught him easily.
No, she was herding him—driving him straight to his own lair.
Because she wanted to find it.
After all, she was exactly the kind of person he was most interested in—a true Abyssal Hunter.
But that suited him just fine.
With the right plan, hunter and prey could always switch roles.
And judging by her current unstable state, his chances of success were even greater.
Sure enough, barely monts after he stopped to catch his breath, the ruined church doors creaked as another figure stepped inside.
A white-haired girl, dressed in rough, coarse fabric, walked in.
Her crimson eyes flickered with a hint of confusion.
She made no attempt to hide herself.
Instead, she scanned the surroundings, as if searching for sothing—confirming sothing.
In truth, she had no idea why she had co here.
She didn't even know why she had been chasing this hooded man.
But the mont she caught his scent—so familiar, so much like a kindred spirit—her body had moved on its own.
Whatever he was hiding, whatever was buried in that dark cloak of his, she had to find out.
Because deep down, sothing told her—this was sothing she could not afford to lose.
Driven by this inexplicable urge, Gladiia had instinctively chased him all the way here. But now that she had arrived, she found herself lost in confusion.
What... was she supposed to do next?
A thin haze of uncertainty clouded her crimson eyes. She clutched her forehead, as if struggling to recall sothing vitally important.
This wasn't the first ti she had felt this way. It had happened before—except back then, her father had been there.
As long as she stood behind him, she never had to think about such things.
He would always handle the troubleso matters for her.
That was why she clung so desperately to him—because the feeling of standing behind soone, of being protected, was sothing she had never experienced before.
But now, she realized that because of her reckless pursuit, she had strayed far from her father.
Like a lost cub separated from its pack.
The sharpness in her gaze gradually faded. An overwhelming sense of helplessness surged through her.
Her pursuit had been driven by nothing more than lingering instincts.
But now that she had snapped out of that state, she had completely forgotten what she was supposed to do next.
The tall Ægir girl wrapped her arms tightly around herself and crouched down—just like a frightened child.
From the shadows of the church, the cloaked man observed everything.
Was this really the sa Abyssal Hunter he had known?
They are the rciless slayers of his kind—why would one of them display such weakness?
Or was this so elaborate deception?
She had pursued him all this way, only to suddenly drop her guard and curl up like a lost little girl?
Doubt filled his mind, causing him to hesitate in his original plan to subdue her.
The more unnatural an action seed, the more likely it was part of so hidden sche.
After all, Abyssal Hunters were not just physically powerful—they were dangerous.
But the longer he observed Gladiia, the more certain he beca that she was not faking it.
Her current state was identical to that of another Abyssal Hunter he had once studied—a subject they had experinted on for so long that she eventually lost her mories.
The only difference was that that girl had gone mad from tornt.
Whereas this one…
Her eyes held no trace of madness.
Only pure, unfiltered confusion.
'Could today really be my lucky day?'
The cloaked man narrowed his eyes, silently thanking the heavens for this unexpected gift.
His previous test subject had been stolen from him—but now, another one had willingly walked right into his grasp.
It didn't matter if sothing was wrong with Gladiia's state.
He wasn't going to let her go either way.
And now that he had returned to his lair, he was confident he had the advantage.
Raising a hand, he gestured toward the darkness behind him.
With a slow, eerie creak, a hidden underground door beneath the ruined church opened.
From the dim depths, a group of grotesque figures erged—warped creatures, their bodies covered in jagged crystalline growths.
They were neither fully human nor fully fish.
"Go, my brethren."
The cloaked man murmured softly, extending a finger toward Gladiia.
"Bring the girl to ."
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