Thoren stood at the center of the inn’s lobby, his expression solemn and unwavering.
Around him, his undead servants moved with eerie efficiency, their hollow eyes glowing faintly as they slaughtered the Dark Tide Beasts that erged from the shadows.
Blades rose and fell; bones shattered across the cracked floor.
Each undead moved under his powerful ntal command, precise, ruthless, and tireless.
Beside him, Fidelia was a whirlwind of steel.
As a Blade Dancer, she embodied grace and lethality in equal asure.
Her swords traced brilliant arcs through the air, each strike delivered with flawless timing. She did not waste a single movent.
Every slash targeted vital points, dealing maximum damage to the Dark Tide Beasts that rushed toward her.
Under the illumination of the illusory lantern hovering inches above Thoren’s head, the surrounding darkness was forcibly dispelled.
For the first ti since the Dark Tide began, everyone inside the inn could see clearly again.
Shadows recoiled, their advantage stripped away.
With her vision restored, Fidelia fought with all the pent-up rage and frustration she had bottled since the darkness descended.
Each fallen beast was t with another strike, another furious swing of her blades.
Although Thoren could easily handle every Dark Tide Beast on his own with his undead legion, he deliberately chose not to.
The Dark Tide was indeed dangerous, but it was also an opportunity.
The reward for killing a single Dark Tide Beast was more than double that of an ordinary abyss beast. For those who survived, this was a rare chance to strengthen themselves rapidly.
Thus, he allowed Fidelia to fight.
He allowed her to struggle.
For hours, the battle dragged on.
The Dark Tide Beasts fell one after another, their bodies dissolving into dark mist upon death, yet they never stopped coming.
Fresh monsters erged relentlessly from the shadows, as if the darkness itself was birthing them.
Ophelia and the others were stunned.
Fear crept into their minds like poison.
At first, everyone believed the Dark Tide would end quickly, just as it had in the past.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Then another.
Yet the darkness persisted, pressing down on their nerves without any sign of weakening.
The Dark Tide had been raging for hours.
"What is going on?" Fidelia asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed as she cleaved another Dark Tide Beast in half.
Since arriving in the abyss, she had never experienced anything this bizarre. It felt less like a natural phenonon and more like a deliberate extermination.
As if the Dark Tide had been unleashed specifically to annihilate them.
The beasts were stronger.
Faster.
More vicious than before.
Fidelia was not the only one who sensed it.
Ophelia sat slumped against the wall, nervousness etched deeply across her pale face.
Beside her sat two of her sisters, both injured and exhausted. Lying on the bloodstained floor nearby was the last remaining mber of their party, unconscious and barely breathing.
"I think this Dark Tide isn’t a coincidence," Thoren muttered quietly.
His voice was calm, yet heavy.
As a necromancer, he was far more sensitive to dark energy than ordinary awakeners.
Under the intense concentration of the Dark Tide, he could clearly feel that sothing was wrong.
This darkness was unnatural.
This ti, no one doubted him.
The ferocity and strength of the Dark Tide Beasts were far too extre to be a re coincidence.
From the corner of her eye, Fidelia glanced at Thoren and felt a surge of gratitude she could not express aloud. If he had not been here, she could not imagine what would have happened to them.
Perhaps all of them would already be dead.
She trusted in her strength. She believed in her blades. But against the overwhelming tide of darkness, her confidence felt fragile.
Slowly, her gaze shifted to the illusory lantern floating above Thoren’s head, its ethereal light unwavering amidst the chaos.
’Is that part of his talent?’ she wondered.
’Isn’t he a necromancer?’
’How could he possess sothing like this?’
’...Is it possible that he has more than one talent?’
The thought left her unsettled.
The more she pondered it, the more absurd it seed. She had never heard of anyone possessing more than a single talent.
That was considered impossible.
Talents were tied to professions.
And from what she could see, this illusory lantern had nothing to do with necromancy.
Despite her curiosity, she never intended to question him.she was not in any position to pried into his secret. Just the act of him saving them was enough.
The battle continued.
Fidelia’s muscles scread in protest. Her nerves burned with exhaustion, but she refused to give up.
’I can’t show weakness while he’s watching,’ she scread internally.
She pushed herself harder.
Every strike placed imnse strain on her body.
Her mana reserves were nearly depleted, yet she gritted her teeth and continued swinging. Sweat drenched her armor, mixing with blood—hers and the enemy’s alike.
Everyone in the lobby could hear the strain in her breathing, see how she was pushing herself beyond her limits, but no one spoke.
Ophelia and her sisters understood what their leader was trying to do.
Fidelia was protecting the last shred of pride they had left.
If they allowed Thoren to protect them like fragile flowers in a greenhouse, they would beco nothing more than liabilities. Even if he never said it aloud, the feeling would remain.
Ophelia bit down hard on her lip.
She had just boasted that they were not as weak as he presud but now, most of them were seated on the ground, injured and barely able to fight.
’I can’t accept this...’
Shaking her head, she tried to stand.
"Hng!"
A sharp pain tore through her shoulder, forcing a pained hiss from her lips. Though she had consud a healing potion, her injuries were too severe to recover instantly.
Even the slightest movent threatened to reopen her wounds.
With unwillingness weighing heavily on her chest, she sank back down.
A deep sigh escaped her lips.
Throughout it all, Thoren watched silently, his expression unchanged.
He understood their feelings, but he saw no reason to offer hollow comfort.
This was the abyss.
Reality here was cruel and unforgiving.
Everything many awakeners believed they knew about the abyss was incomplete at best and dangerously wrong at worst. To survive, they needed to accept the unexpected and pursue strength relentlessly.
Weakness in the abyss was an unforgivable sin.
As for Fidelia, she had already earned his recognition.
He simply chose not to voice it.
She was a woman with a strong heart, unafraid of battle and willing to shoulder the burden of others.
But even strong wills had limits.
Thoren watched as her movents slowed. Her legs trembled violently. Her grip loosened, and her blade slipped from her fingers, clattering against the floor.
Her eyes rolled back as dizziness overtook her.
She tried desperately to remain conscious.
But her body gave out.
Just as she collapsed, the ominous darkness hanging over the human settlent began to recede.
The darkness withdrew as swiftly as it had appeared, peeling away like a retreating tide.
"Huh—!"
Gasps echoed throughout the lobby as shock spread across their faces.
They could hardly believe it.
The Dark Tide had retreated.
Light flooded the town, washing away the suffocating atmosphere and dispelling the lingering terror.
For the first ti in hours, they could breathe.
And yet, the silence that followed felt heavier than the darkness itself.
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