Chapter 69 : Sworn to the Abyss

The battle had ended, but its echoes lingered in the marrow of Velmara.

Storms had ceased, and the warped air returned to stillness, yet the land bore the scars of Asari's clash with the figure born of darkness. The skies no longer bled shadows, but clouds of uncertainty still loomed in the hearts of those who had watched the impossible unfold.

Deep within the jagged, frostbitten valleys of northern Velmara, hidden from mortal eyes, lay a secluded cave—one not marked on any map, nor whispered of in tales. It was a place only those who had inherited legacies of power would find. Asari stood at its mouth, gaze fixed on the twisted rock face shaped like a serpent's open maw. The entrance itself felt alive, as if it recognized him.

Beside him, Aicha wheeled forward slowly. Though still burdened by her disability, her aura had changed—heavier, sadder, but also steadier. She had watched Asari battle forces no man should ever confront and survive. And though she said nothing, her eyes followed him constantly now, as if afraid he'd vanish into the shadows again.

Behind them, a small figure struggled to catch up.

Adamas.

The boy, barely past twelve, was wrapped in a rough travel cloak. His clothes were too big, his boots too heavy. Yet, his expression remained fierce, lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes—the pale silver of snow under moonlight—never left Asari's back.

"Wait!" Adamas finally called out, stumbling over a rock and catching himself with scraped hands. "Wait for me!"

Asari didn't stop. He stepped into the cave, darkness swallowing him whole.

Aicha paused at the threshold, eyes glancing back toward the boy. "He's still following us," she muttered softly.

"He will stop eventually," Asari replied flatly, his voice echoing in the dark.

But Adamas didn't stop.

He stumbled again but pulled himself forward. His breaths were loud and shallow, heart hammering with each step he took into the cave. Asari and Aicha had vanished from view, yet he felt something guiding him—something ancient, something that had accepted Asari and now tested him.

The walls of the cave shimmered faintly with veins of eather-rich crystal, pulsating softly. The air was heavy with spiritual residue; every breath was like inhaling smoke, yet it filled the body with warmth. This was not a mere hideout. This was a sanctum. A cradle of awakening.

Asari sat cross-legged near a deep pool that reflected no light. It was unlike the pool in his master's cave—this one seemed colder, darker, as though it held the weight of Velmara's forgotten past. He meditated in silence, eather surging through his veins like a second bloodstream.

Aicha rested nearby, her hand brushing the smooth rock, watching the patterns on the cave ceiling like a mother watching her child. She didn't speak. She merely was, content to be near him, her heart beating in sync with the silence.

Then footsteps.

Adamas burst into view, panting. Dirt covered his cheeks. Tears, sweat, and blood streaked his young face. He stood there, trembling.

"I—I found you," he said hoarsely. "I'm not leaving."

Asari opened one eye. "Go back. There's nothing for you here."

But Adamas stepped forward. "No. I saw what you did. You fought that thing... and won. That was the first time I've seen someone protect the world instead of abandoning it."

He bowed his head low, pressing his hands to the floor.

"I know I'm weak," he said, voice raw with emotion. "I know I'm just a child. But let me follow you. Let me serve you. I swear it on my soul—I'll be your subordinate. The first."

Asari's gaze was unreadable.

"Why?"

"Because," Adamas said, raising his eyes. "You're not just strong. You carry pain I've never seen. People like you don't just fight… you endure. And I want to follow someone like that. Someone I can believe in."

Aicha turned to Asari. "You saved his village. You killed that thing before it could reach them. He's not wrong to feel loyal."

But Asari stayed silent. His mind returned to the Black Tortoise, the memory still etched into his blood, and the egg still wrapped safely in cloth near the fire. He remembered the words of the tortoise:

"Strength can protect. But memory can teach. Protect the innocent not because they are weak—but because they still believe."

He stood slowly, his form casting a long shadow on the cave walls. His gaze met Adamas's.

"Very well," Asari said. "I accept you. But this path… is not easy."

"I know," Adamas said, eyes bright with conviction. "Even if it means death. I'll follow."

Asari nodded once.

"Then rise, Adamas of the North. First to kneel beneath the Abyss."

---

Night fell outside the cave. Snow began to drift lightly, whispering against the stones like a mourning song.

Inside, Asari returned to his meditation. The black tortoise's essence flowed stronger now, merging with his spirit. New paths began to open in his mind—defensive formations, spiritual shells, illusions of invulnerability. But with every breath of new power came deeper, darker truths. Memories of calamities that wiped kingdoms from existence. Secrets never meant to be known by mortal minds.

And yet, Asari bore them.

He bore them for the baby tortoise that now slept beside the fire.

He bore them for Aicha, whose heart still hoped despite her broken body.

And he bore them for Adamas—young, fierce, and foolish—but the first soul to kneel before him not out of fear… but faith.

---

"Even in the deepest abyss, if a single soul believes… the darkness shudders."