Chapter 8: Echoes Below

Chapter 8: Echoes Below

Ray's head throbbed as he drifted back to consciousness. Every muscle in his body ached in protest when he tried to move, but at least he was alive. He lay on his back, staring into a darkness broken only by faint, flickering lights along the walls. The air was heavier here, carrying a damp chill that clung to his skin.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the soreness spreading through his limbs. The floor beneath him felt strange—spongy, almost like damp moss or old, rotting fabric. Running a hand over its surface, he shuddered as it shifted slightly under his touch.

Where am I now?l

The chamber around him was vast, its walls curving upward into a ceiling that vanished into gloom. Dim lights pulsed along the surfaces in slow waves, casting shifting shadows that made it seem like the entire space was breathing.

The last thing he remembered was the ground vanishing beneath him, sending him plummeting into darkness. He felt lucky he hadn't broken anything. His shoulder throbbed, and his ribs ached with each breath, but he could still stand—if he tried.

Taking a moment to check himself, he found his makeshift bandages still in place, though they were dirty and damp. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and a gnawing hunger twisted his stomach. The few bites of rancid meat he'd eaten earlier hadn't been enough, and the small amount of water he'd found was long gone.

As he steadied himself against the wall, his thoughts drifted to the creatures he had encountered so far. The memory of that thing on the ceiling, with its too many eyes and rows of jagged teeth, sent a chill through him. Then there were the beasts in the desert.

They should have been Dormants—mindless, instinct-driven creatures. The lack of coordination in their attacks meant they were likely just Beasts or, at most, Monsters.

But that thing just now... There's no way something like that is part of the first Outer Trial. It had to be at least a Fallen Demon or, worse, a Devil.

Outer creatures were ranked by the quality of their soul cores, from 1 to 7:

Dormant, Fallen, Accursed, Corrupted, Oni, Titan, and Unholy.

Dormants were the weakest. Unholy creatures were nothing more than legend—no one had seen one, but everyone knew they existed.

Each rank was further divided by the number of soul cores they possessed, ranging from 1 to 7:

Beast, Monster, Demon, Devil, Empyreal, Tyrant, and Nyxar.

With every increase in core count, their intelligence grew as well—though it was an insanity-driven intelligence, incomprehensible to humans.

Ray shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the present. Freaking out won't help.

He needed to find a way out. With unsteady steps, he moved along the wall, running his fingertips across its shifting surface. The texture varied—some areas were warm, others unnervingly cold, as if he were touching different parts of a living creature.

After a few steps, something caught his eye—half-buried in the spongy floor. Bending down, he found bits of broken metal, perhaps remnants of a shattered weapon or tool. It was hard to tell in the poor light. Whatever it was, it meant he wasn't the first person to end up here.

He pocketed the largest fragment, hoping it would serve as a better weapon than the bone shard he had discarded earlier. As he did, he noticed faint markings near the base of the wall—scratches or carvings arranged in an unfamiliar pattern. Some lines curved smoothly, others jagged and sharp. Could these be letters? If they were, he couldn't read them.

The chamber narrowed into a long passage, its floor sloping gently downward. A thin mist curled around his ankles, swirling with every step. Occasional drips of water echoed through the silence, and every so often, he heard a faint hiss—but couldn't pinpoint the source.

The flickering lights above sometimes brightened, revealing disturbing details—the walls dotted with pulsing lumps, the cracks in the floor oozing a dark, tar-like substance. Other times, the light dimmed so much he could barely see his own hand in front of his face.

Stay calm. Panicking will just get me killed.

The passage opened into a smaller chamber. In the corner, something glimmered—a shallow pool of liquid, collecting from a slow drip above. Cautiously, Ray knelt beside it. The surface was murky, but when he dipped his fingers in, it felt wet and cold. Bringing a few drops to his lips, he hesitated. The taste was metallic, bitter—but it was better than nothing.

He drank carefully, knowing it could be dangerous but unwilling to risk dehydration. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat, offering a brief reprieve. At least I won't collapse from thirst.

Standing, he noticed a glow farther down another corridor. Unlike the pulsing lights of the walls, this one was steadier—like a lantern's distant gleam. His pulse quickened. Could someone else be down here?

He edged forward, keeping quiet. The deeper he ventured, the more the walls took on an organic quality—almost fleshy in places. The air thickened with a stale, unfamiliar scent. His foot suddenly sank into the floor, as if stepping into mud. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall, breathing heavily.

The glow ahead brightened. Peering around a bend, he spotted a small alcove in the corridor. Nestled on a ledge was a faintly glowing orb, no larger than his fist.

It pulsed with a bluish light, illuminating the alcove. Ray stepped closer, both fascinated and wary. The orb wasn't a torch or a lantern, yet it gave off a steady glow, making the surrounding walls shimmer.

He reached out but hesitated. Is this a trap?

Glancing around, he saw no movement. The passage was silent except for the faint hum that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Steeling himself, he touched the orb.

The instant his fingers made contact, the light flared. He recoiled, shielding his eyes. For a few seconds, the world was bathed in pale blue radiance—then it dimmed, returning to its soft, rhythmic pulse.

Ray stood still, breath caught in his chest. He felt no pain, no sudden shock—just a lingering unease. Maybe it's harmless.

Beyond the alcove, the corridor curved out of sight. With one last glance at the orb, he moved forward. A nagging sensation settled in his mind. Something down here—beyond the twisted walls and flickering lights—was watching him. Testing him.

Whatever the truth, he had no choice but to keep going.

As he walked, the orb's glow faded behind him. The walls pulsed once more, the air turning colder. His grip tightened on the broken metal shard in his pocket.

Sooner or later, I'll have to face whatever lurks in this place.

But first, I need to survive one more day.