Welcome to The Undercroft

Dusk fell over the capital, Solara Magna, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Yet below ground, in a district untouched by twilight, time seemed to stand still, measured only by the lengthening shadows.

The journey through the ancient tunnel felt like an eternity. For Heze, accustomed to instant teleportation and maglev trains on Vega Terra, this slow, arduous physical trek was torture. But for Nihil, it was the first moment of peace he had ever known. In the embracing darkness, far from the judgmental gaze of his family, he felt... free.

He spent his time monitoring the slow regeneration of his Capacity. Every point restored felt like a drop of water in a desert. [Capacity: 7 / 15] . Enough for one emergency Void Grasp. No more.

Finally, after descending stairs that felt endless, he reached the end of the path. A rusty iron grate, hidden behind a pile of trash in a dark alley. Summoning his remaining strength, he pushed the grate open.

The air that hit him was a sensory shockwave.

This was The Undercroft. The pungent sting of burning charcoal, unfamiliar spices, and overflowing sewers mingled into one overpowering miasma. A low roar of dozens of languages, the clanging of hammers from blacksmiths' workshops, and the angry shouts of a street vendor assaulted his ears. Rickety wooden buildings leaned precariously against each other, seemingly held upright only by their collective tilt, illuminated by red and yellow paper lanterns strung on tangled wires.

It was a chaotic, filthy world, but it was alive. Vibrantly alive.

Nihil pulled his hood deeper, hiding his face and hair from curious eyes. Based on the original Nihil's memories, The Undercroft was a place where people came to disappear. But he knew, from Heze's logic, that places like this were also teeming with eyes and ears that could be bought. He was prey, and this was his new wilderness. His goal was simple: survive, find shelter, and gather information.

In a relatively cleaner tavern on the edge of The Undercroft, Tarek Mornhall spread a crude map across a table. Elite members of the Umbra Venari surrounded him, their faces serious.

"Alright, listen up," Tarek said, his voice low and sharp. "Our target is here, somewhere in this maze. Intel from 'The Silencer' says he's weak, but his power is dangerous on contact. So, rule one: maintain distance."

He pointed to several locations on the map. "You two, meet our informant at the Black Market. Offer triple pay for any information on a white-haired boy. You," he pointed to two others, "comb all the cheap inns and flophouses. He'll need somewhere to rest. Me and the rest will patrol the main entrances and rat-runs."

"Objective is capture, Boss?" asked one member.

"Capture is priority," Tarek confirmed. "Client wants him alive. But if he resists and things get too noisy, elimination is authorized. Most importantly, leave no trace."

The team nodded in unison and dispersed, melting into the crowd of The Undercroft like ghosts. The organized, professional hunt was on.

Nihil walked aimlessly, trying to blend in with the throng. His stomach growled, reminding him of the hard bread he'd eaten hours ago. He needed a safe place.

As he passed a dark alleyway, a cold premonition crept up his spine. Not a sound, not a sight. Just a feeling—the sensation of being the focus of a predator's gaze.

The system in his mind flashed a subtle warning.

[Attention: Hostile Intent Detected in Vicinity.]

Heze didn't know what it meant, but he had learned to trust his new survival instincts. Without turning or showing panic, he changed direction, veering sharply and plunging into a dense crowd gathered around a puppet show stage. He moved quickly, using the mass of bodies as a shield, and disappeared into another alley across the street.

Moments later, in the alley where he had just stood, an Umbra Venari scout stepped out of the shadows. He looked towards the crowd with frustration. He'd caught a flash of white hair beneath a hood, but the target had vanished as quickly as he appeared. He pulled out a small bone whistle and blew it, producing a high-pitched tone audible only to other guild members.

Nihil might have made it into The Undercroft, but the hunters' net was already tightening around him.

Tarek Mornhall arrived on the scene minutes later, his face hardening as he heard the scout's report.

"He just vanished?" Tarek asked, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Yeah, Boss. Like he knew I was there. Didn't look back, just moved. Weird as hell," the scout replied.

Tarek rubbed his stubbled chin. "He's no ordinary kid. He can sense intent." That made their job infinitely harder. Prey that could feel the hunters was the most dangerous kind. "Tighten the watch on all exits. Comb this area block by block. He can't have gotten far."

Meanwhile, Nihil had managed to find a temporary hiding place. A crumbling shack in the poorest district, on the very edge of The Undercroft bordering the city's sewer system. The smell was appalling, but no one would look for him here.

He sat on the dusty floor, exhausted and starving. He knew he couldn't keep this up. Running and hiding would only delay the inevitable. He needed a plan. He needed resources.

The mind of Heze, the cognitive economist, kicked into gear. In every system, no matter how chaotic, there was a market. There was demand and supply. What could he offer? What unique skill did he possess that others lacked?

The answer was obvious: Erasure.

In this magic-filled world, there must be things people wanted gone permanently. Curses that couldn't be lifted. Magical tattoos from a shameful past. Damaged artifacts still leaking dangerous energy. Evidence of crimes.

If he could find a way to anonymously advertise his "services," he could earn money, food, and, most importantly, information. It was a huge risk, but far better than starving to death in this shack. For the first time, he saw his power not just as a weapon for survival, but as potential capital.

Thousands of miles from the chaos of The Undercroft, in a sophisticated observatory hidden atop a snow-capped mountain, a young woman stared at the data displayed across giant crystals. Elara Moonveil, lead researcher for the Dimensional Guild, couldn't suppress a smile.

Her arcane instruments, designed to detect dimensional fluctuations, had been working overtime for the past 24 hours, all pointing to one location: the House Nocturne estate in Solara Magna.

"Remarkable," she murmured to herself. "This isn't just a standard Void energy spike. The decay pattern, the absence of residual radiation... this is a 'True Nihility Event'."

Something that had only existed in the most forbidden ancient texts was happening. She immediately accessed her digital archives, cross-referencing the energy data with historical records. Within minutes, she found the connection.

"The Nocturne bloodline... Shackles of Nihility... The Prophecy of the Singularity."

Her face lit up with intellectual excitement. This was the discovery of the century. Someone, or something, within House Nocturne had become a living manifestation of the Void principle.

Her goal became instantly clear. Not to destroy or contain. Her goal was to understand. She had to find this anomaly. Study it. Unravel the secrets behind the universe's most fundamental and feared power.

"Prepare 'The Wanderer'," she commanded the observatory AI. "Route: Solara Magna. I will lead this expedition personally."

Back in the stinking shack, Nihil stood up. A decision had been made. He would no longer be passive prey.

He pulled his hood tight, shrouding his face once more. He would venture back into the dangerous streets of The Undercroft. But this time, he wasn't running. He was hunting. Hunting for his first opportunity.