Looking up at the darkened skies, Kevin thought:
'How eerie.'
Though he had already experienced this phenomenon before, it still made him uneasy. If he couldn't perceive mana, he would likely have struggled far more. Situations like this made him appreciate his arsenal of abilities all the more.
But there was another immediate problem that needed to be addressed.
'Everyone stinks. Man, I smell so bad!'
All three of them were in desperate need of a bath. That much was unavoidable. They had been traversing the landscape of the Forgotten Lands for three days straight, with only brief breaks in between.
Naturally, he couldn't exactly say, "Miss Jasmine has smelly feet," nor could he remark, "Mikoto's snores are particularly loud."
That would be a death sentence in disguise!
Instead, Kevin kept his expression carefully neutral as he glanced around the makeshift rest point they had secured on the upper spine.
Jasmine and Mikoto had gone off to a secluded area, using the water they had gathered to clean themselves, while Noah sat nearby, going through his notes. Most likely, he was double-checking what he had recorded or correcting anything he might have missed.
His habit of documenting everything was clearly important. It wasn't every day one found oneself in the Forgotten Lands, after all.
Come to think of it, there was actually a great deal of information worth recording. The differences in mana flow across regions alone were significant, not to mention the various Creatures of Darkness they had encountered so far. There were patterns, too; subtle behavioral shifts depending on terrain density and residual energy concentration.
'If this was back in his old world, this would've been a goldmine for research papers… Such a pity.'
He shook the thought away. Now wasn't the time for academic curiosity.
Instead, he rose from his spot and stretched slightly.
Soon, it would be his turn to wash as well. The water they had managed to collect was limited, but enough for a quick rinse. Anything more would be a luxury they couldn't afford.
He moved toward a more secluded area along a fractured ridge of bone, where the rib structure of the Fallen God formed a natural curtain against view.
Kevin glanced around once to make sure he was alone.
Satisfied, he began to prepare.
Loosening his shoulders, Kevin proceeded to set his things down on a relatively flat section of bone. The surface was cold, unnaturally so, but at least it was stable enough to stand on.
Then he paused.
Not out of embarrassment, but caution. Even here, within the remains of a fallen god, he couldn't completely dismiss the feeling of something watching him. Particularly, the Centurion Knight residing below them.
"…Should be fine."
One could only hope. In the worst-case scenario, they would have to fight in complete darkness.
With a faint sigh, Kevin began cleaning himself. The sensation of grime and exhaustion washing away, even partially, brought a rare sense of relief.
It didn't take long before he finished and rejoined the others.
They were all seated along the spine, resting on the cold, massive bones. Lighting a fire would only attract unwanted attention; something they lacked the strength to deal with right now.
Tired and worn down, none of them had the energy to do much of anything.
Even talking felt like a burden.
So, one by one, they drifted off to sleep, leaving Kevin to take the first watch.
He couldn't see anything in the darkness either. But by now, the young Slayer had grown accustomed to it. More importantly, his sensitivity to mana granted him a different kind of perception that went beyond ordinary sight.
From what he had learned, nothing in this world was truly devoid of mana.
Originally, just like his old world, nothing like magic or spiritual energy had existed beyond fiction. But with the emergence of the Dark Dimension, everything changed when the boundaries between worlds fractured, and with that fracture came an influx of something humanity had never known how to handle.
Even ordinary objects can store within them.
If Kevin remembered correctly, such objects were called Mystic Tools and could be used as weapons.
And if something like a spoon possessed mana, then theoretically, it was safe to say that everything could be sensed through mana.
Kevin's gaze remained steady as he sat atop the spine, his awareness extending outward. In his perception, the world was not dark at all.
It was layered and woven together by countless streams of mana flowing in different directions, like currents in an invisible ocean.
The bones beneath him carried a dense, ancient residue. It flowed sluggishly like something that had long since lost its purpose but refused to disappear. In contrast, the surrounding space was far more chaotic. Thin threads of mana drifted unpredictably, occasionally colliding and dispersing as if disturbed by something unseen.
Kevin frowned darkly.
'It's getting more unstable…'
That wasn't a good sign.
The deeper the Shrouding settled, the more erratic the flow of mana became. And in a place like the Forgotten Lands — where remnants of divine power of the Fallen Gods still lingered — instability often meant danger.
He shifted his focus outward, scanning the area beyond the skeleton.
However, nothing unusual entered his vision. Everything seemed normal and there was no hidden enemy. In fact, there was nothing at all.
Just then, his senses caught peculiar.
It was a disturbance in the flow.
Something had interrupted the natural flow of the ambient mana nearby.
What sort of—
Narrowing his eyes, Kevin traced the source of the disturbance until his gaze settled on the dark silhouette below.
The Centurion Knight.
The creature was drawing in the ambient mana around it. But for what…? Evolution? No, that didn't seem right.
Focusing more closely, Kevin began to notice several abnormalities on the Tyrant's body.
One of its horns had been broken, while the other was bent into a warped, almost pitiful shape. The once-polished armor, which had appeared nearly indestructible before, was now dented and fractured in multiple places, as if it had been battered and tossed around like a ragdoll.
Not only that, the lower half of its body hadn't been spared.
The reinforced legs that once stood like unshakable pillars were riddled with deep grooves and fractures, some of the metallic plating partially peeled back as though something had forcefully torn into it. One of its hind limbs appeared slightly misaligned, the joint moving with a subtle but noticeable stiffness.
Needless to say, the Tyrant had seen better days.
'It's… damaged?'
That alone didn't make sense.
A creature of that level shouldn't have sustained such visible injuries; not without a fight massive enough to leave behind clear traces.
But there were none.
Which meant the mana it was absorbing wasn't being used to grow stronger, but to repair itself.
"…!"
His body trembled.
There was no logical reason to be afraid. In its current state, the aberration didn't appear capable of repelling them if they attacked together. The Centurion Knight could barely move properly, let alone defend itself.
By all accounts, it should have been vulnerable.
Even so, his body refused to listen.
A cold, instinctive dread crept up his spine as his gaze remained fixed on the broken Tyrant below.
What kind of horror could reduce something like that to such a pitiful state?