The stench was unbearable. Damp stone mixed with charred fur, and the acrid tang of demonic essence that clung to the air like rot.
Damien walked through it all, unfazed, his boots splashing through shallow pools of blood and sli. At his back, Lyone trailed silently, his face pale but his grip tight on his weapon.
Every few steps, another beast lunged from the shadows.
Misshapen wolves with too many eyes.
Hulking boars whose tusks dripped black miasma.
A serpent that slithered along the ceiling like a streak of tar.
Each one shrieked with madness, lunging blindly at the first pulse of living essence they could sense.
Each one fell.
Damien cut through them with an efficiency that told Lyone he wasn't here for sightseeing, barely slowing as Fenrir or Aquila intercepted, tearing their prey apart before tossing the remains toward Luton.
The sli devoured each corpse with eager gulps, its body pulsing and expanding with every kill.
When the last screech faded into silence, Damien flicked his blade clean, crimson streaks staining the tunnel wall. He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"…Empty."
Lyone hesitated. "There were dozens of them."
"Not the beasts." Damien's gaze swept the cavern, sharp and calculating. "Them. The ones running this."
He gestured toward the half-collapsed crates, the faint burn marks on the floor, the broken torches. Traces of a camp, yes, but nothing important.
Nothing worth keeping. Not a single scrap of a scroll, no sigil carvings, no essence crystals, not even the bones of failed experints.
"Before, they left too much behind. Flaws. Errors." Damien's voice dropped lower, edged with irritation. "Now? They're learning. Getting smoother with their clean-ups."
He tilted his head slightly, a bitter grin forming. "That's… inconvenient."
Lyone swallowed, unsure how to respond. His brother—no, not brother, but sothing close enough—stood in the carnage like it was a minor annoyance, not the aftermath of a massacre.
Lyone had fought hard just to keep up, and still, Damien's shoulders were barely tense.
"Nothing left." Damien's words cut through the silence. Then his tone shifted, cold, decisive. "Fine. If they want to run, let's make sure they can't use this place again."
He raised his hand.
The space around them seed to constrict, air thickening as a ripple of essence shivered outward.
Fenrir stiffened, Aquila's wings spread slightly, and even Luton shrank closer to Damien's boots in anticipation. Lyone, heart hamring, knew what was coming.
Damien's voice was calm, almost casual. "Cerbe."
The ground cracked. With a sound like chains snapping, a vast shadow erupted from the summoning circle beneath Damien's feet.
Three heads rose, each maw exhaling smoke and embers, each eye burning with hunger and fury. The cavern shook under the beast's weight as Cerbe, the monstrous hound, took form—larger than Fenrir or any mana beast Lyone had ever seen which weren't much.
The three heads snarled, steam hissing between bared fangs. The sheer heat of its breath made Lyone stumble back, shielding his face.
"Go." Damien pointed, his tone clipped.
Cerbe obeyed.
The first roar nearly deafened them. Fire, raw and violent, flooded the chamber, devouring what little remained of the underground base.
Stone cracked and buckled. The walls glowed molten red as if the cavern itself were being forged anew. Cerbe tore through supports, each of its heads breathing destruction until the entire network began to tremble violently.
Lyone clutched Aquila's reins, eyes wide. "Damien—the city—!"
"It won't touch Delwig," Damien said without looking back. His tone was steady, absolute. "I calculated the distance. This far out, only this nest burns."
The ceiling groaned, then collapsed inward with a thunderous crash. Dust and fire swept through the tunnels, chasing them like a living storm.
Damien walked calmly in its wake, his summons shielding Lyone as they advanced.
By the ti Cerbe gave its final roar and the cavern caved fully, there was nothing left behind but ruin. No tunnels, no beasts, no evidence. Just rubble and scorched stone.
Vwoooooooom~
On the surface, Delwig stirred. Soldiers standing guard along the outer walls felt the tremors first, vibrations rattling through the ground beneath their boots.
Brrrrrrrr~
Loose stones tumbled from parapets, and even within the city, lamps swayed in their brackets.
General Ivaan looked up from his maps as the chamber shook. His brows furrowed, but Apnoch—standing stiffly nearby—knew instantly.
"…That's him," Apnoch muttered under his breath.
Ivaan exhaled slowly. "Tell he hasn't just brought the whole city down on us."
"No," Apnoch replied, though a tightness clung to his jaw. "I don't think he would."
Neither man spoke further, though the silence carried weight.
Beneath the settling dust, Damien exhaled once, sharp and satisfied.
"Cancel Cerbe's summon." Damien commanded under his breath.
Cerbe dissolved back into essence, vanishing in a swirl of shadow and embers. Fenrir and Aquila padded forward again, as if nothing had happened.
Lyone coughed, waving a hand through the haze. "You… you destroyed all of it."
"Of course," Damien said simply. "If there's nothing to learn here, then there's no reason to let them use it again. Better to burn the board entirely."
Lyone glanced around at the collapsing ruin, heart still racing. He wanted to argue—to say sothing about restraint, about leaving a path for investigators—but the words stuck.
Because deep down, he understood. Damien wasn't interested in half-asures. He wanted to end this network at the root.
The boy opened his mouth to speak again, but Damien cut him off with a sudden gesture.
"There," Damien said.
From the wreckage, a smaller tunnel remained partially intact, its mouth angled upward. A shaft that hadn't collapsed. Damien approached, crouched briefly, and smiled faintly.
"Convenient."
They ascended. The passage twisted, climbed, then finally burst into open air.
Cool wind rushed against their faces. Lyone gasped with relief at the night sky stretched wide above them. The stars burned clearly, and in the distance, the walls of Delwig rose tall and proud.
They were about a mile from the gate. Close enough to see the torchlights dancing along the battlents.
Damien inhaled once, long and slow. "Good. Orientation's correct."
He motioned to Lyone. "Dismount. Walk."
Lyone blinked. "Walk? But Aquila—"
"Walk," Damien repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Lyone grimaced, sliding off the griffin's back. His legs already ached from the fighting, but Damien's gaze was firm. So he walked, trailing beside Damien as Fenrir and Aquila followed behind like shadows. Luton hopped from Fenrir's back to Lyone's shoulder, pulsing faintly as if amused.
Step by step, they made their way back toward Delwig. The city walls lood larger with every minute, the gates shining like a beacon in the night.
And still Damien's stride was steady, unhurried. Lazy, almost. As though destruction was nothing new, nothing worth rushing away from.
Lyone clenched his fists as he walked. Every mile with Damien taught him sothing new—and sothing frightening. Damien's power was broken.
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