Echoes of the Abyss

The entrance to the Abyssal Chasm gaped like a wound torn by deities, cleaving through Arctic ice sheets. Kaine's silver armor spiderwebbed with cracks at -150°C, crimson tumors frosting over before blood could drip—each ice crystal encapsulating weapon data devoured by his sand. Alys lashed frostrose vines around his waist, roots carving footholds into ice walls embedded with tens of thousands of Church Knights' remains. Their chainsaw spines still spun autonomously, blades grinding permafrost to spark ghostly torchlight processions in the depths.

"Cinder's coordinates end here." Alys' cogwheel pupils scanned Church ciphers etched in First Godslayer blood on the ice. The glyphs bled viridian radiation, carving genetic double helixes into the ground. When her fingers brushed the runes, the chasm quaked—hundreds of mechanical tendrils sprouted from glacial graves, each tipped with Leah's face chanting Lullaby gene codes. Their harmonic voices refracting brainwashing frequencies across the ice.

Kaine's chainsaw wings shredded three tendrils. Devoured fragments mutated his right arm into a sonic cannon. The first shot triggered an avalanche, exposing a buried Church lab. Its titanium door bore corroded handprints resembling infants. As Alys' vines slithered into vents, she caught Cinder's signature scent—burnt clay mingling with clone amniotic fluid.

In the lab's core, thousands of Cinder-gene clones floated in pods. Their mechanical arms bore wedding band engravings, chests housing pocket watch-shaped consciousness reservoirs. At Alys' touch, every clone opened synchronized eyes, voicing Ilana's final words: "Godslayers... are tombstones gods left for themselves..." Sonic waves shattered the nearest pod. Viridian fluid gushed with memory chips, coalescing into holograms of the First Godslayer's creation—humans shoving kin into furnaces 30,000 years prior, their screams etching the original Church sigil onto molten walls.