Terukh Hill stood in silence.

  Wild grass grew unevenly along its slopes, swaying gently in the breeze. The sky above was clear—too clear for a region known to never be truly quiet.

  Yet the silence felt… unnatural.

  No birds, no insects—only the wind swirling without direction.

  The sound of hooves broke that quiet.

  So this is what Bune left behind, Williams thought.

  He halted his horse a few steps before the hilltop. Wetra followed at his side.

  Their boots pressed into the ground still damp from the morning mist.

  The Oblivion tents stood without flags, without grand insignias—just dark fabric stretched neatly, lines precise. A few members were posted around the tents. They didn’t speak much. Only the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of metal when someone shifted stance.

  Wetra walked half a step behind Williams. He neither hurried nor slowed down.

  Until—

  One of the guards noticed a shadow approaching. His eyes widened slightly. Reflex. He tapped his heel lightly. His right hand touched his chest; three fingers formed a vertical line—a signature Oblivion gesture.

  “Commander.”

  The voice was firm. Not loud. The others immediately followed. The same movement. Synchronized. Silent.

  Williams paused briefly. His gaze swept quickly—counting, assessing, without judgment.

  “Good work.”

  Flat tone. But enough. No smile. No speech.

  “Report.”

  One member stepped forward a pace. The rest remained in place.

  “The first tremor was detected before dawn, Commander. Low intensity. Pattern unstable.”

  Williams didn’t interrupt.

  “Cracks appeared twenty-three minutes after the initial tremor. Largest diameter around one and a half meters. Depth still unknown.”

  Wetra glanced briefly up the slope.

  The member continued.

  “Nothing concerning so far, except for tremors from some of the existing cracks.”

  Tremor. The word hung in the air.

  Williams shifted his gaze to the fractured ground a few meters from the tents.

  “Casualties?”

  “None. We’ve already blocked civilian access to the hill.”

  “Perimeter?”

  “Secure. Two-hundred-meter radius cleared.”

  The wind blew again. This time softer. Heavier.

  Williams took two swords from the tent and walked past them.

  “Don’t drink too much.”

  Silence. The three members froze for a fraction of a second—too brief to be panic, too obvious to be calm.

  He stopped in front of the largest cleft. The ground looked normal—except for the thin line splitting it.

  He crouched.

  Touched it.

  Warm.

  Not from the sun.

  Wetra stepped closer, maintaining a one-step distance.

  “I’ll discipline them again, Commander. This negligence is my responsibility.”

  Williams didn’t answer immediately. He was still staring at the black fissure.

  “No,” he finally said softly. “Small things like this sometimes calm the mind.”

  He stood. “But still—don’t overdo it.”

  “Understood.”

  The wind moved again. Heavier than before.

  “Is there something, Commander?” Wetra asked.

  Williams didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the ground.

  “It… feels strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “The tremor is too subtle.”

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  Williams pressed his fingertip slightly deeper into the dark hole.

  “And the ground… isn’t wild.”

  He pulled his hand back, then stood slowly.

  “As if something is holding back.”

  Silence.

  “Prepare the team,” he continued flatly. “Combat formation. Full alert. Under any circumstance.”

  “Understood, Commander.”

  Williams stared straight ahead.

  “Bune… what did you leave here?”

  As if answering him—the ground trembled. Very faintly. As if something beneath it… was regulating its breath.

  The tremor stopped. As if it had never existed.

  The wind blew lightly again, brushing through the wild grass standing unnaturally still.

  Williams didn’t move for several seconds. Then he turned. His steps calm. Measured. Wetra followed without question.

  Behind them, the rift still split the ground—silent, unchanged.

  “Commander?” Wetra’s voice was low.

  “Do not approach that crack again,” Williams replied without looking back. “Extend the perimeter fifty meters further.”

  “Understood.”

  The members moved immediately. The order didn’t need repeating.

  Williams continued toward the main tent. Each step sounded clear on the ground still holding warmth. The pulse was gone. Yet—a speck of dust inside the black hole slowly fell downward. As if something was drawing it in.

  Williams had only walked a few steps away from the crack—when the ground beneath them trembled. No longer a subtle pulse. This time—it cracked.

  The sound of the fissure splitting the hill like bones being broken forcefully. The earth lifted. The crack widened in a single brutal surge.

  “Formation!” Wetra’s voice sliced through the air.

  A black explosion shot from the ground. Not fire. Not smoke. Something thicker—heavier. Like a dark liquid rejecting the light.

  Several members were thrown back. The tent lifted halfway, its dark fabric torn like paper.

  Williams didn’t look back. He had already drawn his swords even before the ground fully opened.

  From within the fissure—something emerged. Not fully form. Not fully shadow. Too long for a human. Too fluid to be called mist.

  And the eyes—opened in that darkness. Many. Too many.

  The Abyss did not explode. It rose. Like something long buried… finally granted permission to breathe.

  “Wetra. Grab your gear. Now.”

  “Understood.”

  Without wasting a second, Wetra turned and ran toward the gear tent. Inside, he moved quickly—trained hands reaching for extra belts, arm guards, and spare sword sheaths. Within seconds, he emerged—ready.

  Wetra approached Williams, who was on guard, and saw the shape of the Abyss—it looked… strange.

  “The Abyss… shaped like a beast but humanoid?” he asked, shocked.

  “Correct… Unexpected. Prepare yourself, Wetra,” Williams replied.

  Williams immediately lunged, diving between flying debris. A few small Abysses shot toward him, black and jagged, but none fast enough to intercept.

  One strike, and the small Abyss’s head shattered, fragments flying, the ground ahead rumbling harder.

  From the large fissure, a massive Abyss emerged—skin black as tar, eyes glowing red, mouth gaping wide, ready to devour everything in front of it. Its jaws opened wide—as if to roar.

  Neck muscles tensed. Chest expanded. Yet no sound came out. Even the wind didn’t move.

  Williams paused briefly, assessing the enemy’s movements. No space for a direct attack.

  He leaned slightly—heels pressing into the earth. A golden flash streaked from his back. Aurum Wings unfurled, slicing the air around him.

  With a strong push, he leapt and glided upward, evading the Abyss’s grasp. Stones flew beneath him, but he remained stable, body almost sticking to the wind.

  Wetra and the remaining members watched from the ground, panting, eyes following Williams now like a golden arrow across the battlefield.

  One member covered his mouth, nearly falling while avoiding flying stone fragments.

  “C-Commander… he… incredible…”

  Wetra frowned. “Focus! Treat the wounded—now!”

  Though his words were firm, his gaze remained on Williams, spinning in the air, evading strikes, cutting the small Abysses with deadly precision.

  Wetra nimbly used his Aurum Wings, leaping into the air with agile movements. The wind embraced his body as he followed Williams’ path, trying to close the distance without losing control.

  “Don’t let them get close!” he shouted to himself, dodging incoming attacks.

  On the ground, two members focused on the wounded—one pulling a comrade behind a large rock, the other stemming the heavy flow of blood.

  “FAST!! GET BEHIND THE ROCK!” one shouted, holding the comrade from being thrown.

  Several small Abysses tried to attack, but retreated quickly, adjusting position. One sword strike from Williams cut through, stone fragments flying—the members ducked just in time, inches from danger.

  From the air, Williams shouted:

  “Evacuate the wounded to safety! Don’t stop!”

  Each of the commander’s moves gave the members fractions of a second to adjust, keeping the wounded safe behind flying rocks.

  The ground shook violently, the dark chasm widening like a giant mouth waiting for prey. Black dust swirled, covering tents and members holding the wounded behind rocks.

  Williams dove from the air, Aurum Wings sweeping the swirling dust. Each strike forced the small Abysses back, but the Abyss was too large to stop with fast moves alone. Strike after strike was delivered.

  Wetra landed on the other side of the Abyss, managing to wound its temple.

  “Take this!” Wetra shouted.

  The Abyss roared in pain. Waves of dark energy emanated from its body.

  Williams landed briefly on a large rock, assessing the field. With a single breath, he launched into the air again, targeting a weak point in the Abyss’s neck—its body collapsed to the ground.

  Williams paused briefly, holding his breath—eyes scanning the fallen Abyss.

  Wetra approached, panting.

  “Looks like it’s dead. The rest are just regular Abysses.”

  “Finish the rest quickly.”

  Without another word, Williams and Wetra attacked the remaining Abysses. They moved silently. Without shouting. Without extra signals. Williams’ strikes severed shadows attempting to reform before fully taking shape.

  Wetra covered the fissure’s side, sword striking the darkest, weakest points.

  One by one, the Abysses fell. Yet strangely—they didn’t resist like before. No final rage. No desperate push. As if something had drawn their consciousness back into the ground.

  Too easy.

  Too clean.

  The black bodies shattered… then melted—except—the large Abyss did not melt or disappear.

  Within minutes, the battlefield fell silent. Nothing moved. Only the remaining dark stains slowly seeped back into the fissure.

  Wetra lowered his weapon first. Breathing heavy but steady.

  “All clear.” He waited. A few seconds passed. Then he added softly,

  “No sign they’ll come out again.”

  Williams didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fixed on the fissure, now still. Still… but not empty.

  He stood before the crack. And he realized… the ground was still trembling faintly. But much deeper than before.

  He said nothing. Only a small, quiet sentence:

  “This isn’t the source.”

  Wetra didn’t reply immediately. The wind moved gently, carrying the last black dust away from the fissure. Several members waited for the next order. No one dared to speak. Several seconds passed. Williams still stared into the crack, as if listening to something others couldn’t hear.

  Then—

  He turned. His voice flat. But enough to break the silence of the entire hill.

  “Take the wounded back to base.”

  Wetra nodded.

  “Understood.”

  Movement happened instantly. Two members supported a comrade whose shoulder was torn. The others wrapped wounds with emergency cloth without complaint.

  A few seconds later.

  “Send a full report. Lock this area. Don’t let anyone approach until Division 7 arrives.”

  Wetra lifted his head slightly.

  “Division 7…?”

  “If this isn’t the source, we need Division 7.”

  “One more thing… have Jeanne come here.”

  Wetra nodded.

  “And you?”

  Williams finally turned. His gaze cold.

  “At least someone needs to guard this area before Division 7 arrives. Also, the body of that Abyss not melting worries me a little.”

  Wetra was silent, eyes fixed on the remaining darkness.

  “Understood.”

  Silence returned to Terukh Hill.

  Yet far beneath the fissure—something still stirred.

  V.