The masked elder remained silent.
No one interrupted.
The entire chamber listened.
"...The summoning circle?"
His aged voice echoed softly from behind the mask.
"...And mages."
"...To open a breach."
Pythia lowered her head.
"...Yes."
Another long silence followed.
The elder slowly turned his head.
His hidden gaze settled upon Draven once more.
The faint crimson glow behind the mask lingered on him.
"...Young Pythia."
"...Do you understand..."
"...what it is you're asking?"
"...A breach into the Abyss is not opened on a whim."
"...The cost alone is immense."
"...The risks..."
"...are even greater."
Pythia answered without hesitation.
"...I understand."
"...Then you also understand..."
"...that such authority is not mine alone to grant."
She nodded.
"...I do."
The elder clasped his hands behind his back.
"...Then why come here?"
"...Why not seek the Abyss Lords..."
"...whom you now claim to have abandoned?"
Silence.
Pythia slowly lifted her head.
"...Because..."
"...they are not my Lords."
The surrounding cultists visibly tensed.
Several glared at her.
One clenched his fists.
"...Blasphemy..."
Another muttered beneath his breath.
The elder slowly raised a single hand.
Instantly—
the chamber fell silent once more.
His gaze remained fixed upon Pythia.
"...You truly believe..."
"...that this vampire..."
His eyes shifted toward Draven.
"...stands above Them?"
Pythia smiled.
There was neither arrogance...
...nor mockery.
Only absolute certainty.
"...I do."
"...With every part of my being."
The elder studied her for several long moments.
"...Faith."
"...Can blind even the wisest among us."
Pythia gently shook her head.
"...No."
"...Blindness..."
"...is believing without ever seeing."
She turned toward Draven.
"...I have seen."
"...Therefore..."
"...I believe."
Silence settled over the chamber.
Then—
the elder addressed Draven directly.
"...And you?"
"...You seek a breach into the Abyss."
"...For what purpose?"
Draven answered immediately.
"...Mana."
Silence.
The elder remained motionless.
"...Mana."
"...For what purpose?"
His crimson gaze never left Draven.
"...Why do you seek the mana of the Abyss?"
Draven's answer was just as immediate.
"...To absorb it."
Silence.
A heartbeat passed.
Then—
"...Absorb it?"
One of the cultists let out a disbelieving laugh.
"...Did he just say absorb it?"
Another frowned.
"...Is he insane?"
The elder remained calm.
"...You intend..."
"...to absorb the mana of the Abyss itself?"
Draven nodded once.
"...Correct."
The chamber erupted.
"...Impossible!"
"...Utter nonsense!"
"...No living being can survive that!"
"...Has he lost his mind?!"
The elder slowly shook his head.
"...You are gravely mistaken."
There was no ridicule in his voice.
Only certainty.
"...The mana of the Abyss is not ordinary mana."
"...It is corruption made manifest."
He slowly raised one hand.
"...It devours."
"...It's twisted."
"...It corrupts everything that accepts it."
His gaze remained locked on Draven.
"...No one..."
"...can remain sane after taking it into themselves."
"...No one emerges unchanged."
"...Even a single strand..."
"...is enough to begin the transformation."
He paused.
"...Those who survive..."
"...become monsters."
"...Creatures without reason."
"...Without self."
"...Without a soul worth speaking of."
Silence followed.
Then—
"...That's true."
Every eye turned toward Pythia.
She smiled softly.
"...For everyone else."
Her eyes settled upon Draven.
"...But not for my Lord."
The surrounding cultists frowned.
Pythia continued without the slightest hesitation.
"...Apart from the beings born within the Abyss itself..."
"...there exists only one."
She slowly looked across every cultist present.
"...Only one being capable of accepting the Abyss without being consumed."
Her smile deepened.
"...My Lord."
"...He alone can absorb its mana."
"...He alone can absorb the core of a Named Entity."
The chamber exploded with voices.
"...Impossible!"
"...Lies!"
"...Absolute nonsense!"
"...No such being exists!"
The masked elder's voice cut cleanly through the uproar.
"...Young Pythia."
Silence immediately returned.
His tone had changed—
only slightly.
"...What..."
"...did you just say?"
"...The core..."
"...of a Named Entity?"
"...Explain."
Pythia met his gaze.
"...Teacher."
"...Do you remember the mission we were assigned?"
One of the cultists answered before the elder could.
"...Of course."
"...To open a breach."
"...And summon an Abyss Lord."
Another spoke coldly.
"...The mission failed."
"...Everyone died."
Pythia slowly shook her head.
"...No."
She spread her hands ever so slightly.
"...I'm standing here."
"...Am I not?"
The chamber fell silent once more.
"...The breach opened."
"...The Lord answered."
"...Everything proceeded exactly as the ritual demanded."
Her voice grew quieter.
"...Until..."
"...my Lord appeared."
The atmosphere itself seemed to grow heavier.
"...I watched Him kill the Named Entity."
"...Not repel it."
"...Not seal it."
"...Kill it."
Several cultists unconsciously stepped backward.
Pythia's eyes shone with unwavering conviction.
"...Then..."
"...before my very eyes..."
"...He absorbed its core."
She placed a hand over her heart.
"...There was no corruption."
"...No madness."
"...No loss of control."
"...Nothing."
She looked directly at the elder.
"...The Abyss accepted Him..."
"...as naturally..."
"...as water returns to the sea."
Silence consumed the chamber.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
The masked elder stood perfectly still.
Behind the mask—
his gaze remained fixed upon Draven.
Long.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
For the first time since entering the chamber—
certainty no longer filled the room.