Chapter 38: The Descent

The stairs creaked faintly as Lucas and Lyss descended into the basement once more.

Their boots scraped against stone as they entered the wide, cold chamber. The strange structure still stood in the center, unchanged—silent, inert, and humming faintly with an energy that felt ancient.

Lucas circled it slowly.

A ring of metal panels encased a dark central core, covered in engravings that pulsed just barely under the surface. Nothing obvious marked it as dangerous. No labels. No switches. No signs of life.

"You really don't know what this is?" Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Lyss stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. "It looks like some kind of ancient platform, maybe part of an older system. But nothing like this shows up on any map."

Lucas tapped one of the side plates with his knuckle. A hollow thud.

Then, out of habit or boredom, he leaned against the edge, his hand resting on a slanted plate carved with runes.

Click.

A low hum rippled through the air.

"…What did you just do?"

"I didn't do anything," Lucas muttered—just before the entire platform beneath them shuddered.

A deep, grinding noise echoed from the walls.

The stone floor beneath their feet shifted, then slowly began to descend, dragging them downward in a circular motion. Dust fell from the ceiling as old gears and hidden machinery creaked to life.

Lucas stared at the floor moving beneath him. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Lyss stepped back instinctively but held her balance. "Well. Too late to jump off now."

Lucas looked at her.

"…Did I just activate a death elevator?"

She crossed her arms. "Only one way to find out."

The descent was slow—agonizingly so.

The platform moved downward in perfect silence now, save for the occasional groan of ancient mechanisms stirring somewhere in the rock around them. The shaft they were in stretched endlessly, its walls rough and uneven in places, reinforced by smooth, black metal in others.

Thin lines of energy pulsed faintly across some of those metal panels, like veins of light struggling to wake up from centuries of slumber.

Lucas stared at them, arms crossed.

"I don't like this."

"No shit," Lyss replied, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "But it's too late to climb back up."

Lucas ran a hand through his hair. "This thing could go straight into the core of the planet, and we wouldn't even know."

"Or into something worse."

He let out a quiet breath, his expression tightening.

They stood in silence for a few more minutes, the platform steadily spiraling downward. Occasionally, dust rained down from the cracks in the stone above them, stirred by the subtle vibrations.

"Any idea where we are?" Lucas asked eventually.

"No," Lyss answered plainly. "Not a single one."

Lucas turned his gaze downward. There was nothing below them but blackness. An abyss without bottom, and no sign of stopping.

"…Figures."

Minutes stretched.

The descent continued, as steady and slow as a heartbeat. Time blurred. The temperature dropped slightly the deeper they went, and the dim veins of energy on the walls throbbed faintly, casting pale shadows across their faces.

Lucas leaned back against one of the support rails lining the platform.

"This thing's been going for a while."

Lyss nodded, arms folded. "Yeah."

"Bet it leads to a forgotten temple of death filled with cursed shit."

"…That would explain your presence."

Lucas shot her a sideways glare. "Ha-ha."

A silence settled again.

Lucas looked at the walls. "You really didn't know this was here?"

"No," Lyss said, frowning. "This entire mountain was supposed to be barren. Dangerous terrain, yes—but no mention of this in any archive, map, or report."

"…So we're in the middle of nowhere, in a place no one knew existed, on a platform going who-knows-how-far underground."

"Pretty much."

Lucas sighed. "Of course we are."

More silence.

Then he looked over, more serious this time. "You nervous?"

Lyss met his eyes. Her voice was calm. "Always. That's why I'm still alive."

Lucas gave a small nod, then looked down again. The emptiness beneath the platform hadn't changed. Still bottomless. Still black.

"Should probably do something while we wait," he muttered.

Lyss raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Play cards?"

Lucas cracked his neck. "You said you were gonna teach me, didn't you?"

She tilted her head. "You want to spar? Now?"

He shrugged. "Unless you've got a better idea."

Lyss gave him a long, steady look.

Then she nodded once. "Fine. Let's start."

Lucas stepped back, clearing enough space on the platform. It was just wide enough—barely—to allow for a bit of movement. Not ideal, but enough.

With a silent thought, he summoned his weapon.

The Abyssal Reaper materialized in his hands, the obsidian-black scythe blooming into existence with a cold shimmer. Its jagged edge caught the pale glow of the surrounding energy veins, casting warped reflections across the walls.

Lyss didn't react outwardly.

But inwardly?

Exactly what she expected.

Without a word, she summoned her own item—Starlight Fang—a sleek, curved blade that shimmered with faint silver-blue light as it appeared in her grip.

Lucas watched her stance shift instantly—feet placed just right, weight balanced, eyes sharp. Fluid. Efficient.

He tightened his grip on his scythe.

"Alright. Let's get this over with."

Lyss didn't move.

"You're standing wrong," she said.

"What?"

"Your feet. You're flat. You're slow. That scythe is going to control your momentum, not the other way around."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna talk the whole time or—?"

Lyss lunged.

He barely managed to step back before her blade was under his arm, aimed straight at his ribs.

Lucas cursed and twisted his scythe, trying to parry.

Too late.

She didn't even strike him—just redirected his balance, sending him stumbling to the side and nearly off the platform.

"You're lucky this thing's got rails," she said, standing relaxed.

Lucas scowled, steadying himself. "You done showing off?"

"That was me going easy."

Lucas didn't know how many times he hit the platform floor.

But it was more than once.

Sweat clung to his forehead. His breathing was uneven. The weight of the Abyssal Reaper felt heavier now, each swing slower than the last.

Lyss had barely broken a sweat.

Every time he thought he had an opening, she slipped past his guard. Every strike he tried to land was turned against him. His hands stung, his ribs ached, and a bruise was already blooming across his shoulder where she'd landed a clean shot earlier.

Still, he didn't stop.

He refused to stop.

When she disarmed him for the fourth time, he dropped to one knee, teeth clenched.

Lyss stood a few paces away, lowering Starlight Fang.

"That's enough for now."

Lucas didn't argue. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, breathing heavily as he sat down, letting his legs stretch out.

"That… was fucking awful," he muttered.

"You did better than expected," she said as she approached him.

He snorted. "Didn't look like it."

Lyss knelt in front of him and raised one hand, her fingers glowing faintly with a soft, green light.

Lucas blinked. "Wait—what are you—"

A gentle warmth spread through his side as the pain in his ribs began to fade. The glow seeped into his bruises, easing the tension in his shoulder.

He stared at her hand for a second, then looked away.

"…Thanks."

Lyss didn't answer. She kept working in silence, focused.

It wasn't anything dramatic. No sparkles, no chanting. Just efficient, practiced healing.

The kind only someone trained from birth could pull off so casually.

Once she was done, she stood up and gave him a small nod.

"Next time, don't lead with your shoulder like you're charging a wall."

Lucas scoffed. "I was charging a wall. The wall was you."

A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she turned away.

Hours had passed.

They had no way of knowing how many exactly, but the aching muscles, the sweat-soaked clothes, and the gnawing silence spoke clearly enough. The platform was still moving—downward, endlessly.

Lucas sat cross-legged now, leaning back against one of the support rails. The faint glow of the wall-veins still lit the shaft, barely enough to see Lyss, who was resting on the other side of the platform, blade across her lap.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

They had sparred, eaten a bit of leftover food, and now… they waited. The kind of waiting that made the silence heavier than the fight.

Lucas tilted his head back, looking into the abyss above them.

"Still no bottom," he muttered.

"No top either," Lyss replied. Her voice was calm. Steady. "Like we're trapped between two ends of the world."

Lucas exhaled sharply through his nose. "Poetic."

He looked over at her.

"You sure this thing's still going to stop eventually?"

"No."

Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. The platform kept descending—same speed, same hum, same nothingness below.

A thought crossed his mind.

'Whatever's down there… it better be worth it.'

But he didn't say it out loud.

There was no point.

Instead, he adjusted the grip on his scythe, now resting against his shoulder, and let the silence stretch again.

The darkness welcomed them like an endless breath, and the ancient machine carried them deeper into the unknown.