Light...

"Believe me, I'm not that foolish… I already told you, I won't die."

***

Dane plummeted into the abyss.

His body slammed into a massive outcrop of stone jutting from the canyon wall.

The impact shattered rock and sent a sharp jolt of agony through his bones.

A cry escaped his lips as the ledge beneath him crumbled.

Just as he was about to fall deeper, he clawed at the jagged surface, desperately seeking something to hold onto.

The rough grip tore at his fingers, stripping flesh with merciless precision.

Blood oozed from the wounds, but he ignored the pain.

Without hesitation, he summoned his blade. It materialised in his right hand.

He drove it into the canyon wall.

The stone he had clung to a moment ago shattered, sending his hands lurching into empty space.

Now, he hung solely by his weapon, its blade wedged precariously in the rock.

A guttural grunt escaped him.

Searing pain shot through his shoulder. Blood dripped from his fingers, vanishing into the abyss below.

He didn't dare look down. Not even for a second.

"Those bastards…"

His voice was low, venomous.

The forest above erupted with guttural roars, the sound reverberating through the canyon. They were all converging on the pit.

Then, from the darkness, they began to fall.

Shrieking creatures plunged past him.

Some had writhing tendrils that flailed, seeking a hold on the canyon walls—only to miss and vanish into the void.

Others crashed against rocky protrusions, their bodies snapping on impact before tumbling further into the abyss.

Dane exhaled sharply.

He knew more would be waiting above.

Not that he had any intention of climbing back up.

But he couldn't stay here forever.

If luck abandoned him, the blade might slip, carving through brittle stone and sending him to his doom.

No, he needed another way out.

One that wouldn't bring him face to face with the horrors lurking above.

Dane found himself crying.

It started with a single tear slipping from his eye, vanishing into the abyss below.

Then another.

And another.

More…

"Fuck. Why am I crying?"

He couldn't wipe his tears away.

His hands were occupied, clinging desperately to life.

Yet the fear was overwhelming, a deep, primal terror at the thought of death.

That one thing he had always dreaded.

And now, it was a mere slip away.

His grip on the hilt of his blade tightened.

He looked down at himself, a bitter wave of disappointment washing over him.

How had it come to this?

He despised this kind of reincarnation.

It was painful. Traumatic. Suffocating.

It was dark.

He hated the dark.

His father had been murdered at night, slaughtered by rivals.

He had been there, young.

Now, it seemed he was fated to die in the darkness as well.

For once… why couldn't he fall into the light?

His father had once told him that fear and determination were double-edged swords.

In moments of strength, fear had to be cast aside, and determination must be unshakable.

But in the fight for survival, fear could breed the greatest courage, forging an unbreakable resolve.

A determination to survive this wretched, endless night.

"Come on, you damned fool. You're in the body of a Top-Level Seeker. Even with an assassin's trait, you still have a chance."

He had to believe it. It was the only truth he had left to survive in this world.

Dane used his free hand to search for a stable hold in the wall, fingers scraping against the rough surface until they found purchase.

He clenched tightly.

Black rock crumbled beneath his grip, tumbling into the darkness.

Without hesitation, he drove his blade deeper into the stone.

It slid in effortlessly.

A stroke of luck. This section of the wall was firm. His hold was secure.

Pressing his body against the rock face, he braced himself, using his feet to search for footholds.

By some miracle, he found one.

Now, he clung to the wall like a desperate tiger scaling a mountain, his every movement tinged with fear.

Slowly, his sharpened gaze pierced through the thick darkness, though only barely.

His vision swept across the canyon wall, searching for anything that might aid his escape.

Then, he spotted it—a stone outcrop to his left, slightly lower than his current position.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

He could only hope it was solid enough to catch him should he fall.

There was no time for hesitation. Survival left no room for doubt.

Steeling himself, he pressed his left hand against the wall.

With the last of his dwindling strength, he wrenched his blade free and launched himself towards the ledge with a sharp grunt.

His body struck the surface hard. Pain flared through his ankle, a near fracture.

But he had made it.

The ledge beneath him was larger than expected—at least the size of a bed, with the thickness of several layers of reinforced iron.

Far sturdier than the fragile holds he had clung to before.

Dane let out a heavy breath, his chest heaving with fatigue.

"What a fine rock..." he managed to say.

Gradually, weakness crept over him. His body refused to move, unwilling to rise from where he had fallen.

An intoxicating heaviness pressed down on him, lulling him towards unconsciousness.

"Damn… I need to sleep. Guess I failed to find the caravan. Looks like I'll have to make my way to the Stream of Darkness alone… just after I w-wake up."

His vision blurred. His eyelids fluttered once, then shut completely.

Darkness consumed him.

And just like that, his awareness slipped away.

Hours passed.

His consciousness stirred on its own.

Light. Faint, but present.

Dane slowly prised his eyelids open. The sky above had shifted, its colour now a pale yellow-white.

It was bright—blindingly so. Yet, no sun was visible.

Still, it was enough to act as a sun. Light without heat.

"…What?"

His voice was hoarse, laced with disbelief.

This world had light?

No one who had played the game had ever mentioned such a thing—not during their first night shift.

Lying motionless on the stone ledge, he turned his head, his gaze drifting to the opposite side of the canyon.

The Light seemed concentrated there, clinging stubbornly to the rock face.

If this world followed a cycle, then this must be dawn.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

His eyes burned. The sudden brightness was piercing.

Hours of relentless darkness had dulled his senses, leaving him unprepared for the sheer intensity of the light.

He had to adjust—slowly, bit by bit—until, minutes later, he could bear it.

With effort, he pushed himself up halfway, leaning his back against the wall, stretching his legs out before him.

The blood on his skin had dried, but the pain remained.

His wounds, now red and bruised, served as a grim reminder of his suffering.

He crawled forward, inching closer to the edge.

With the light now present, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the abyss below—perhaps, for the first time, he would see its depths.

Yet, as his gaze descended, confusion settled in.

"Eh? Moving like waves?"

The darkness still loomed, obscuring the bottom entirely. But something was different.

It wasn't stagnant. It moved.

Like a river, it flowed in a single direction, its eerie current relentless.

When it brushed against the canyon walls, it clung to the surface like venom, refusing to drift back into the stream.

'It's thick…'

That was his only conclusion.

And he was right.

A thought flickered through his mind. A possibility.

But surely, that couldn't be it?

No. Impossible.

They were meant to cross a mountain after leaving the forest. Only then would they reach it. That was the path. That was what everyone knew.

Unless…

Unless this was another way.

A path hidden in plain sight.

An endless road, flowing steadily forward, easier to traverse than the mountain itself.

His breath hitched.

"The Stream of Darkness…? I'm here!?"