Chapter 41: Whispers of the Moonlit Abyss

The oppressive darkness of the Dungeon's lower floors was nothing new to Maki Zenin. She thrived in the shadows, where danger was at its peak. But tonight, as she descended deeper with Scathach at her side, the atmosphere felt different—heavy, ancient, and unnatural.

The faint whispers began as soon as they stepped into the 38th floor. The icy chill of the Land of Shadows had left its mark on Maki, but this was something else entirely. The air itself seemed alive with malice, a presence lurking beyond the edges of her perception.

"This floor feels… off," Maki muttered, her cursed energy swirling around her spear.

Scathach, ever composed, nodded. "The Dungeon reacts to the presence of anomalies. The distortion we quelled in the Land of Shadows might have disrupted the balance here."

Maki smirked despite the tension. "So we broke it? Guess that's on-brand for us."

Scathach's lips twitched in the faintest hint of amusement. "Perhaps. But the Dungeon is relentless. It will adapt."

They pressed forward, their steps echoing softly against the jagged stone. The 38th floor was infamous even among seasoned adventurers—a labyrinth of winding corridors, traps, and powerful monsters. For Maki and Scathach, it was merely another battlefield.

But as they ventured deeper, the whispers grew louder. Fragments of voices reached Maki's ears, chilling her more than any frost.

"Why do you fight?" one voice hissed.

"You will never escape the shadows," another whispered.

Maki's grip tightened on her spear. "Great. Now the Dungeon's trying to psychoanalyze me."

Scathach placed a hand on Maki's shoulder, her gaze scanning the darkness. "These voices are not the Dungeon's doing. They are echoes of something far older."

Before Maki could respond, the shadows ahead twisted and shifted. A figure emerged, draped in ragged black robes. Its face was obscured, save for two glowing red eyes that burned like embers.

"You tread where mortals should not," the figure intoned. Its voice was a chorus, layered and unnatural. "This floor is mine."

Maki stepped forward, her spear raised. "Yeah? Well, we're taking it back."

The figure raised its hands, and the shadows around it surged forward like a tidal wave. Maki lunged, her cursed energy flaring as she carved through the darkness. Each strike was precise, her movements honed from countless battles.

Scathach moved beside her, her spear a blur of crimson light. The Queen of Shadows was a force of nature, her every attack carrying the weight of centuries of mastery.

But the figure was no ordinary foe. The shadows it commanded were alive, reforming as quickly as they were destroyed. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, forcing Maki and Scathach to fight back-to-back.

"This thing's persistent," Maki grunted, dodging a swipe aimed at her head.

"It draws power from the whispers," Scathach said, her tone calm despite the chaos. "We must silence them."

Maki's eyes narrowed as she spotted a faint glow in the distance—a pulsating core of energy embedded in the wall. The whispers emanated from it, their voices growing louder with each passing moment.

"That's our target," Maki said, nodding toward the core.

Scathach followed her gaze. "Then let us end this."

They surged forward, cutting through the shadowy tendrils that blocked their path. The robed figure appeared before them, its red eyes blazing with fury.

"You cannot destroy the abyss," it snarled. "It is eternal."

Maki smirked. "Nothing's eternal. Watch this."

She channeled her cursed energy into her spear, the weapon glowing with an intense golden light. With a powerful throw, she sent the spear hurtling toward the core.

The robed figure moved to intercept, but Scathach was faster. Her spear pierced the figure's chest, pinning it to the ground. "You are not eternal," she said, her voice cold as ice.

The spear struck the core, shattering it in a burst of light. The whispers ceased, and the shadows began to dissipate.

The robed figure crumbled into ash, its form scattering into the wind. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, and the 38th floor fell silent.

Maki retrieved her spear, her shoulders relaxing. "Well, that was fun. Any idea what that thing was?"

Scathach shook her head. "A remnant, perhaps. An echo of something that once existed. The Dungeon is ancient, and its secrets are countless."

Maki frowned. "Great. More mysteries. Just what we needed."

Scathach placed a hand on Maki's shoulder, her touch steadying. "We will face them together. No shadow is too great for us to overcome."

Maki met her gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. Together."

As they prepared to move forward, the faint sound of footsteps reached their ears. A familiar figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with silver hair and a confident smirk.

"Looks like you two had all the fun," he said, twirling a dagger in his hand.

"Bete," Maki said, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

The werewolf shrugged. "Heard there was trouble on the 38th floor. Thought I'd see if you needed backup."

Maki smirked. "You're late. But thanks for the thought."

Bete chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, try not to hog all the action."