Nea stood on a grated metal catwalk high on the inner perimeter of Zenith's five-mile-high star-steel wall,Zenith capital and the only city on the planet of Citrace now how I find amaduse essence all population of plants live inside this city could not be that hard looking down into the guts of the city. Above her, the colossal glass dome arched across the sky, sealing out the airless vacuum of Citrace Panting heavily, Nea unlatched her helmet and peeled off her battered pink EVA suit, dropping the heavy armor onto the metal walkway. Stripped down to her thin, form-fitting thermal undergarments, her delicate frame, pale skin, and vibrant pink hair stood out starkly against the grime and soot of the industrial superstructure.
Her eyes scanned the sheer drop of the outer perimeter. The star-steel wall wasn't merely a boundary; its vast interior housed fortified bunker compartments where Zenith's civilians hid . Down on the street level, a massive crowd of civilians ran toward the wall's massive vault doors, seeking asylum.
Before the crowd could reach the threshold, heavy mechanical locks echoed through the district. Officers inside sealed the steel vault doors from within, leaving the remaining civilians stranded.
A chorus of frantic, terrifying sounds erupted as hundreds of desperate hands beat against the unyielding steel.
THOCK-THOCK-THOCK-THOCK!
The fast, rhythmic pounding on the bunker doors echoed down the stone alleyways, drawing beasts out white cat-sized monsters poured into the trapped crowd, butchering civilians with brutality
.An adventurer fought frantically in the middle of the alley, She cleaved through the necks of two leaping crawlers, her leather armor soaked in dark blood. But a massive armored predator, a towering bear size monster erupted from behind her. Before she could turn, the creature lunged, grabbing her around the torso she put an arrow in monster eye the monster violently threw her smashing her head-first against the bunker door.
CRACK.
Her skull shattered against the solid steel. Crimson blood and bone splattered across the locked vault door, leaving a sickening smear as her body slid limp onto the cobblestones. Dying in a pool of her own blood, kid run to the adventure crying mother mother he said
the mother's trembling fingers pressed her wooden hunting bow into the kids hands. She raised a bloody finger, pointing westward.
"Timmie Be strong..." she choked out, a thick bubble of crimson bursting on her lips. "Find... Blake... in the West..."
Her arm dropped, her eyes going blank.
Nea descended upon them , ignoring the screams of the dying around her. She approached the mother's corpse, pulling her
Sta-Checker
from her belt and pressing its prongs against the dead woman's chest.
BEEP. RED.
STRUCTURAL TRAUMA: FATAL. VESSEL REJECTED.
Nea spat on the ground in disgust, turning to walk away. But as she moved, the Sta-Checker in her hand suddenly hummed violently, bursting into a bright golden-yellow light. The display blared with intense readings, when touch Timmie's skin while kneeling in the blood, clutching his mother's bow.
Nea stared in utter disbelief.
SPIRITUAL DENSITY: 98% — UNMATCHED GENETIC CEILING DETECTED.
This fragile, weeping child possessed an extraordinary, untapped spiritual core. Right now, he was far too small and weak to act as a physical vessel for Amadeus, but his raw potential was staggering.
Timmie looked up, tears carving clean tracks through the soot on his cheeks. "M-My mom... she's..."
"She's dead," Nea said flatly. She grabbed the boy by his collar and yanked him to his feet. "Get up. We need to go back to the wall where it is safe ."
The door to the wall vault did not open. Rumors had spread among the refugees that the primary Dungeon Gate is in the city center, making the Far West the only sector theoretically clear of beasts. Timmie cried continuously every step of the way, dragging his mother's bow through the dirt. His choked sobs echoed in Nea's ears, inflaming her nerves.
She opened her mouth to
tell him to forget her
but her mind snarled .
How can I tell a child to forget his mother,
she thought bitterly, her chest tightening with familiar, suffocating grief,
when I am burning my own soul alive because I refuse to forget Amadeus?
she could not open her throat to say it, letting the boy weep as they navigated the ruined city.
As they navigated the ruined streets toward the West District, Nea stopped and glared at a strange, looming building bristling with massive copper pipes and vibrating industrial vents.
strange unpleasant smell came from building
"What is that place?" Nea asked, nodding toward the odd structure.
Timmie wiped his tear-stained face with a filthy sleeve, clutching his mother's bow as he looked up at the building. "That's the Reclamation building," he sniffled quietly. "Zenith sewage all the city's waste is put straight into that building to be cleaned and reused."
When they finally broke through into the Far West district, the hope of safety vanished.
In the center of a blood-soaked plaza, a single warrior stood surrounded by a mountain of butchered beasts.
Blake Timmie shout
He was an old man with gray hair , heavily scarred He wielded a sword twice the size of a grown man, holding off an entire horde alone to buy time for fleeing refugees.
SWISH—CRACK!
Blake cleaved two crawlers in half, but a barbed monster carapace slashed deep into his right flank. Blood—thick, dark, spurted from the wound. Blake grunted, staggering back onto one knee, his heavy broadsword tipping into the blood-soaked cobblestones , nea rush to him use her device see he result Panic seized Nea's chest.
If those beasts tear his body to shreds, my vessel for Amadeus will be destroyed!
Nea sprinted into the plaza, stepped over the bleeding warrior, and grabbed the hilt of Blake's massive broadsword with both hands. She hauled the heavy steel off the ground with all her strength.
The cold weight of the blade in her hands instantly shattered her reality, pulling her mind into a blinding memory.
The sun was warm. The scent of blooming white lilies filled the courtyard of Amadeus's estate.
Amadeus stood behind her, his arms wrapped gently around hers, his chest pressed against her back as he guided her hands along the hilt of a golden practice sword. His breath was warm against her neck.
"Keep your elbow low, my love," Amadeus whispered softly. "A sword is an extension of your grace."
Nea turned her head, looking up into his radiant face, her pink eyes shining. She threw her head back and laughed.
"Why do I need to learn this?" she boasted playfully. "I am Nea! The most powerful being in this world! As long as I have you, no one can ever hurt me!"
Amadeus chuckled, a rich sound vibrating in his chest. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, then her cheek, and finally her lips. He held her tight, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her so close she could feel the steady beat of his heart.
"Even goddesses must know how to hold a blade, Nea," he murmured softly into her hair. "Just in case I am ever not there to hold it for you."
The memory snapped.
Nea stood in the reeking cold of Zenith, holding Blake's broadsword. Tears spilled uncontrollably from her pink eyes, fogging her vision until the world became a blur of dark red and black. Grief paralyzed her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.
Be careful Blake shout
A crawler leaped through the air above her, its jaws gaping wide to crush her head.
THWIP—CRACK!
An arrow streaked through the air, piercing the beast's central eye. The monster shrieked, crashing dead at Nea's feet.
Nea turned her head slowly. Standing in the shadows of a collapsed archway was Timmie, holding his mother's hunting bow. His knees were knocking together and his fingers were bleeding from the bowstring, but his eyes glowed with a faint, golden light.
Blake didn't waste the moment. Taking advantage of the distraction, he retrieved his blade from Nea's hands and lunged toward the tunnel entrance. He smashed the heavy wooden support frames with his huge blade.
BOOM!
The stone ceiling caved in, burying the secondary breach under tons of rubble. As the dust settled, broken rock smoothly fused together, closing the tunnel like it was never there.
Refugees lay dead across the plaza, but among the survivors, Blake dragged a ragged, bound prisoner tied up with heavy ropes. The man thrashed, screaming frantically.
"You're insane! The Adventurers Guild building sits right over the main Dungeon Gate! If the beasts are out here, the Guild is already a slaughterhouse!"
Blake grabbed a strip of dirty cloth, shoved it into the prisoner's mouth as a gag, and forced the group forward.
After finishing collecting mana core They navigated toward the central district. As they walked, the bound prisoner slowly and meticulously sawed through his rope bindings over time, using a tiny, razor-sharp blade hidden in his sleeve.
When the ropes finally gave way, the man bolted into a collapsed urban corridor. Blake immediately gave chase, with Nea following close behind. The escaping man led them straight into a dark, collapsed corridor infested with lurking subterranean beasts before vanishing completely into the shadows.
drawing his blade to fight off the swarming lair. "Go after the man!" Blake shouted,
Nea pursued the prisoner through the ruins, cornering him in a dead-end courtyard. The man fell backward onto the ground, pulling the bloody dagger he had used to cut his ropes and pointing it at Nea while trying to fall back.
Nea stepped forward, casually disarmed him, and took the dagger from his shaking hand.she use her device on him result was negative Caring nothing for Blake's mission, Nea turned her back and let the man run away into the dark.
She walked back to the corridor where Blake was still fighting off the monsters. Hiding the stolen dagger at her side, she waited. Blake delivered a devastating final blow, burying his sword into the last beast.
The moment his guard dropped, Nea lunged from behind, driving the dagger straight toward Blake's spine to kill him and claim his body for Amadeus.
Blake's raw combat instincts reacted instantly. Without turning around, his left hand shot back in a vice grip, catching her wrist mid-strike and crushing her bones until she dropped the blade. In one fluid motion, he spun, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her violently against a stone pillar.
Pinned three feet off the ground, Nea gasped for air as Blake stared into her glowing pink eyes, his bloody teeth bared.
"Who sent you?" Blake snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "Are you one of the Redeemers?!"
trapped against the cold stone, a bewildered Nea could only gasp: "Who... who are the Redeemers?"
The suffocating pressure against Nea's windpipe suddenly slacked as Blake stared into her wide, glowing pink eyes He found only a raw, unvarnished confusion that made no sense to him.
Blake's fingers loosened their crushing hold on her throat, though he kept her pinned flat against the cold stone pillar. He let out a low, breathy grumble, his scarred face twisting with reluctant amusement.
"You're too damn beautiful to be one of those Redeemer bastards," Blake growled, his voice like grinding gravel.
Despite the brutal ache in her neck and the cold stone biting through her thermal undergarments, a sudden flush of hot crimson crept up Nea's pale cheeks, making her blush against her will. She bit her lip, infuriated by her own reaction, but forced her eyes to hold his gaze.
"Why the hell did you let that man run?" Blake demanded, his thumb pressing lightly against her jawline to keep her head still. "He was our only lead to the cultists' movement."
"It was simple," Nea wheezed, her voice rasping past her bruised vocal cords. "I scanned him with my Sta-Checker while he was on his knees. His vessel was hollow—decayed flesh, low stamina, and a miserable spiritual threshold. He didn't have the stamina I required, so he was useless to me. I didn't need him."
Blake narrowed his eyes. "And what about me?"
"You have it," Nea said, her voice dropping into a eerie, breathless reverie. Her eyes traced the massive breadth of his shoulders, the thick veins crackling with raw dungeon magic beneath his skin. "You are immaculate. Your physical frame and core threshold are built to hold a god. I need your body to serve as the vessel for Amadeus."
Blake blinked, staring at her as if she had suddenly started speaking in an ancient, dead tongue. Then, with a harsh, barking laugh that rattled his chest, he loosened his grip completely and let her slide down the pillar until her pink boots hit the dirt.
"You are out of your goddamn mind if you think I'm going to let you kill me this easily," Blake sneered, stepping back and leaning heavily on the pommel of his massive broadsword. "You want me to lay down and die to save some dead man?"
"He is not just some 'dead man'!" Nea shouted, taking a frantic step forward, her knuckles white as she clutched the gold pendant around her neck. "He is Amadeus! My sun! My divine lord! You would be dying for a noble cause—what could possibly be more important than giving life back to a champion?"
She gestured wildly toward the ruined, blood-soaked streets around them, her voice rising in manic intensity. "Look at this place! You are fighting and bleeding for Zenith! Zenith is just a small, useless rock—a pathetic heap of iron and garbage in an airless void. It doesn't matter! Your life here is an meaningless speck, while offering your body to Amadeus matters on a cosmic level!"
Blake listened, his scarred face utterly unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his head in heavy, silent disapproval.
"You talk a lot of high-and-mighty nonsense, girl," Blake said quietly, his dark eyes hardening like iron. "I am a very old man, and my joints ache every time the wind blows, but I cannot die just yet. I won't let Zenith be destroyed by the Redeemers while I still have blood to bleed. My answer is still no."
Nea opened her mouth to scream at him, to hurl every bit of her manic authority into his stubborn face, but Blake turned his back on her, dismissing her entirely.
"Keep up or get left behind," Blake grunted, turning toward the central district.
As they began navigating toward the heart of Zenith, the silence was heavy, broken only by the distant, echoing shrieks of subterranean beasts far below. Blake slowed his heavy stride, dropping back to fall into step beside Timmie.
The small boy was dragging his mother's hunting bow through the grit, his shoulders shaking in silent, rhythmic sobs. Blake looked down at the child, the harsh, lethal warrior softening into something protective and solemn.
"Your mother was something special, Timmie," Blake said softly, his deep voice carrying over the quiet ruins. "I watched her shoot a crawler through the eye from fifty paces in the middle of a blizzard. She had the strongest hands and the sharpest eyes of any hunter in the lower wards."
Timmie sniffled loudly, wiping his nose with his filthy sleeve, looking up at the giant warrior. "She... she talked about you..."
"She made me give her an oath," Blake said, reaching down with a heavy, calloused hand to rest gently on the boy's head. "I promised her that if anything ever happened to her out here, I would train you, look after you, and keep you breathing. As soon as we breach the central district and reach the Guildhall, I'm going to register you with the Adventurers Guild. You're going to grow up strong and become an adventurer, just like her."
Trailing a few paces behind them, Nea watched the exchange, her mind churning in a tempest of dark calculation and unexpected, aching warmth.
She stared at the back of Timmie's small, frail neck. Her hands trembled as she remembered the Sta-Checker's blinding golden light—SPIRITUAL DENSITY: 98% — UNMATCHED GENETIC CEILING DETECTED. The boy possessed a soul capable of transcending mortality itself, a cosmic reservoir of raw magic waiting to be unlocked.
An adventurer?
Nea thought bitterly, her stomach twisting into a hard knot.
A suicidal, meat-grinder grunt for a dying city?
In her mind, she tried to convince herself that her outrage was purely pragmatic. Timmie was too precious a resource—either as a future, god-tier vessel for Amadeus if Blake failed, or as an absolute weapon to serve her divine reign. To throw a child with a 98% spiritual threshold into the slaughterhouse of the Adventurers Guild to die bleeding in a ditch like his mother was an unforgivable waste.
But as she looked at his small, trembling frame—clutching that oversized wooden bow with bloody, string-cut fingers—a sharper, darker ache pierced through her divine fanaticism.
She hated the sight of his tears because they mirrored the pathetic, helpless girl she had been when she wept inside the dark pipe of Chute 37. She cared about him. Beneath her madness, beneath her ruthless quest to resurrect her dead love, a fiercely protective instinct had taken root. She would not watch this child be slaughtered by the world the way Amadeus had been.
She couldn't let Blake turn him into a sacrifice for Zenith. Furthermore, she couldn't afford to let Blake out of her sight. Old, stubborn, and scarred as he was, his body was still her primary target—she just had to wait for the moment his strength gave out, or when a subterranean beast wounded him enough for her to strike. To control Blake, and to protect the godlike potential inside Timmie, she needed to bind herself to them entirely.
Nea quickened her pace, her pink boots crunching sharply against the rubble as she stepped up directly alongside Blake.
She tossed her head back, her vibrant pink hair swaying over her shoulders, her glowing eyes locking onto the old warrior with a cold, resolute smile.
"I cannot let Timmie end up as a simple adventurer alone," Nea declared, her voice ringing out through the ruined corridor with absolute authority. "If you're registering him at the Guildhall, Blake, then you're registering me, too. I am becoming an adventurer."
Blake let out a dry, humorless snort, his dark eyes sweeping over Nea's thin, soot-stained thermal garments. "The Guild will take anyone with a beating heart at this point," he grunted, turning back toward the dark alleyways leading to the central district. "For four months now, the monster attacks on Zenith haven't stopped for a single day. We've lost half our ranks—slaughtered in the streets, dragged into the abyss, chewed to pieces. If you want to throw your life into the meat grinder alongside the boy, no one's going to stop you."
Nea's pink boots froze mid-step against the cold, shattered cobblestones.
Four months.
The words echoed inside her head, heavy and cold as lead. Her breathing hitched, her glowing pink eyes widening as a sudden, sickening chill shot down her spine.
Four months ago... that was the exact moment I descended onto Citrace.
A terrifying cascade of paranoid thoughts flooded her mind, drowning out the ambient hum of Zenith's crumbling infrastructure. Could these endless subterranean swarms be her fault? Could the beasts be hunting
her
?
Did my ancient enemies finally track my soul across the void? Or worse... could the living heart of this frozen planet have felt my arrival? Did this world recognize my existence and awaken its abyssal horrors to eliminate me before I could claim its power and overwrite its control?
Panic, hot and suffocating, seized her throat. She tried to force logic through the manic fog of her mind: No... that makes no sense. I sealed myself inside this weak, fragile mortal doll body. I haven't used my true divine power on this rock yet. My grand aura should be completely invisible... How could anything on this primitive planet possibly know I am here?
Lost in the spiraling tempest of her own terror, Nea lifted her trembling right hand to her mouth. Without even realizing what she was doing, her teeth sank viciously into the knuckle of her index finger. She bit down harder and harder, grinding her teeth in desperate, subconscious anxiety until her pale skin tore.
A drop of thick, bright crimson blood welled from the wound, trickling down her finger and dripping onto her pale wrist.
"Nea! Your hand!"
A small, frantic voice broke through her spiraling mind. Nea blinked, her blurry vision clearing as Timmie rushed back to her side. The boy's face was pale with alarm, his mother's hunting bow clutched tightly in his left hand. Without a second thought, he reached out with his right hand—his fingers rough, dirt-smeared, and trembling—and pressed his small thumb firmly against the bite mark on her finger to staunch the bleeding.
"Do not worry, I will be there to protect you !" Timmie whimpered softly, looking up at her through tear-streaked eyes, his small hand holding hers with earnest, protective care. "You're bleeding..."
Nea stood completely paralyzed, staring down at the little boy pressing against her hand.
The physical pain of her bitten knuckle vanished beneath a sudden, overwhelming wave of heat in her chest. For as long as she could remember, she had been a goddess to be feared, an almighty force to be worshiped, or a passionate soul devoted entirely to Amadeus. No one had ever reached out to touch her simply to soothe her pain. No one had ever looked at her with pure, unselfish worry for her well-being.
The tender, innocent touch of the boy's hand felt completely foreign, cutting straight through her manic pride and cold, calculating armor. She had never felt anything like it in her entire existence—a quiet, aching warmth that made her heart shudder in her chest, leaving her utterly speechless in the cold ruins of Zenith.