Chapter 2
Felix was thrown into the pit like a bag of trash.
From darkness… to deeper darkness.
He plummeted through air thick with the stench of rot and ancient death. The cold clawed at his skin. His stomach lurched into his throat as gravity dragged him down.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die—
A raw, terrified scream tore from his throat. Not the defiant cry of a warrior, but the desperate wail of a frightened boy swallowed by the void.
Then came the impact.
He slammed onto something that cracked sickeningly beneath him.
Felix lay there, gasping, waiting for death to finish its work.
But death never came.
To his shock, he was only bruised and shaken. Alive—against all odds.
What… what is this place?
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet. His hands groped blindly into the blackness, searching for anything solid. His fingers brushed against something cold, damp, and horribly misshapen.
He explored it with his other hand, trying to make sense of the texture.
Then realization hit him like a hammer.
No.
He hurled the object away. His heart stuttered, then slammed violently against his ribs.
It was a severed limb.
A demon's limb—rotting and slick with decay.
Felix looked down at his feet. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the gloom. The darkness had thinned just enough for him to see.
Don't tell me…
Bodies. Everywhere.
A mountain of corpses stretched beneath and around him—demon after demon, piled like discarded refuse in a mass grave. Severed limbs, shattered bones, and rotting flesh formed a grotesque carpet under his feet.
His head spun. His stomach rebelled. Vomit surged into his mouth before he could stop it.
He doubled over, coughing and retching, spitting bitter bile onto the dead.
His breathing grew frantic, too fast, until his chest felt like it was caving in. He collapsed onto his back, staring up into a darkness so complete it felt like the lid of a coffin slowly sealing shut.
Is this my life now?
He closed his eyes, and the past came crawling back.
I was a useless freeloader.
Born with no gifts. No talents. No bloodline to speak of.
Do I really deserve this suffering?
His stomach growled loudly, insistent and humiliating.
Felix let out a bitter, broken laugh.
Damn this body. It won't even let me wallow in peace.
But the darkness was shifting. Hour after hour, his eyes adapted. Shapes emerged. Shadows gained form.
He stood up carefully and began to move. Each step was placed with trembling caution as he picked his way over corpses, around severed limbs, and across chests that would never rise again.
He climbed down from the mountain of bodies and finally reached solid ground.
Thousands of large, gaping holes dotted the walls around him—tunnel entrances like dark, hungry mouths leading into even deeper shadow.
There's nothing good about this place. I was thrown here to die.
His hunger flared again, sharper this time.
He glanced down. A fat centipede scuttled slowly across a dead demon's hand. It was no larger than his fist.
Without hesitation, Felix snatched it up and bit into it.
Since his capture, he had survived on grubs and algae. This was no different.
Crunch. Bitter fluid flooded his mouth—the taste of survival.
He finished it without leaving a trace.
Either way, I will die. The least I can do… is survive a little longer.
He dragged himself forward, feet heavy with reluctance.
The corridor stretched before him like the throat of some ancient beast—stone and shadow swallowing everything.
He walked, then tripped.
A loose stone sent him sprawling. His palms scraped painfully against the rough ground.
That was when he heard it: weak, pitiful sobs.
Why?
Felix froze.
It can't be.
There was a child in this place.
His heart twisted with a painful mix of pity and dread.
He followed the sound, one hand trailing along the wall to keep his bearings. The darkness pressed against him like a living thing—heavy, wrong, and suffocating.
When he finally reached the source…
The sobs suddenly turned into laughter.
Childlike. Young. But horribly, unnaturally wrong.
The sound should have sent anyone running back into the blackness.
But Felix didn't run.
Because beneath the twisted laughter, he sensed something else: the child wasn't laughing at him. It sounded… happy. Happy that someone had finally come near. Happy that the crushing silence had been broken.
But something doesn't add up.
How does it even know I'm here?
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Suddenly, multiple hands gripped him from every direction.
A chill ran down his spine—though there was no wind in this forsaken place.
Move!
Felix pushed desperately, but his legs betrayed him when he needed them most.
He twisted away from where he thought the presence was strongest, forcing his body forward. Muscles screamed. Lungs burned.
Then the oppressive force snapped like a rotten rope.
He broke free.
Blind and terrified, he ran.
He didn't care what was behind him. He only knew he had to reach the mountain of corpses again. Maybe—just maybe—he could find a weapon. A sharp bone. Anything.
Then something slammed into his gut with brutal force.
Felix coughed violently. A mouthful of blood sprayed across the stone floor.
He dropped to his knees, choking, crimson spilling from his lips.
What was that? Hah… hah… hah…
He hadn't even seen the attack.
He tried to steady himself, to think, to survive.
Then he heard it.
A tiny voice, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear.
"Useless."
A wet sound—spit hitting the ground.
"Utterly disgusting."
A pause.
"A human?"
The voice shifted. Pure elation dripped from every syllable.
"Ahhh…"
A long, savoring sigh.
"How long has it been since I've eaten one? Three years? No, no… four years? No, no…"
Felix's blood turned to ice.
Was this their goal? he wondered. To squeeze every drop of fear from me before I die? To feast on my terror like fine wine?
He trembled, taking soft, careful steps backward.
Just then—his foot kicked a loose stone.
His eyes widened.
He snatched it up, fingers locking around the rough edge. A pathetic weapon. Poor. Weak.
But it was something.
He was still on the losing end.
He couldn't see his opponent. Couldn't predict where the next strike would come from.
All he could make out was an abnormally short silhouette.
Like that of a toddler.
"And what will that do to me?" the voice asked mockingly.
Bloodshot eyes suddenly fixed directly on Felix.
Smiling.