Diavel nodded slightly, his deep blue eyes like a bottomless lake, suddenly glinting with a faint light in the darkness.
It wasn't just satisfaction...it was a kind of acknowledgment, as if he had foreseen this outcome long ago.
A part of him had always believed that the girl wouldn't turn her back on the opportunity, that she would stand up and choose this perilous path without hesitation.
Lifting his chin slightly, Diavel spoke, his voice low yet resonant in the narrow confines of the tunnel:
"Then..." he said, each word striking deep. "Welcome... to the ranks of those who wish to change fate."
That declaration, simple yet weighty, echoed like a silent oath deep within the earth.
The atmosphere around them seemed to shift with each echo. The cold, damp sharpness of the crumbling rocks softened all at once.
In the thick darkness of the ancient quarry, something invisible seemed to flicker, a tiny flame, trembling but resilient, rekindling a hope long buried.
Nautilus stood silently for a moment, as though those words were sinking into his very flesh and blood.
His thin shoulders trembled slightly, but then his hand clenched into a fist, so tight that his knuckles turned white.
He nodded, a small, firm nod, but filled with resolve. No words were needed. That single gesture was declaration enough: I will move forward.
Yuna remained standing tall, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword at her side as if to affirm her choice.
Her eyes shone with an intense light, not impulsiveness, but a conviction drawn from the depths of her heart.
Ren, slowly, stepped toward his two companions. His footsteps echoed softly through the vast tunnel, but in Ren's mind, they thundered like drums, in rhythm with the pounding of his heart.
Each step felt like it tore through the fog that had clouded his thoughts since morning.
He stopped, standing beside them. A moment of silence stretched between them. In Ren's eyes, there was a fleeting look of disorientation, a blurred trace of regret, as if he were reaching through a cracked mirror to touch the image of something slipping out of reach.
But then, Ren exhaled. A long, gentle breath, like wind. He nodded.
It wasn't a nod for anyone else...not to reassure Yuna, nor to prove anything to Nautilus.
It was for himself. As if, after everything, he had finally accepted that he still wanted to go on.
Not out of duty. Not because of debt. But because of something smoldering in his heart, a flame he thought had long since died out.
And like a chain reaction, that flame spread.
It was strange, almost infectious...but not a destructive illness. It was the opposite: belief. Hope. Vitality.
Something burning brighter than fear.
Ren raised his head, meeting the eyes of Yuna and Nautilus. In their eyes was resolve. A light that hadn't existed during their first battle. A determination that could not be extinguished, even if it had only just been lit.
"For them… and for myself…"
Ren didn't know how much longer things would hold before they shattered. But right now, he knew he had to move forward with them. He had to be a companion, not just a shadow following behind.
He swallowed another quiet breath, then looked away, as if to hide from himself.
"Maybe… I should apologize."
Not now. But soon.
Diavel glanced at each of them, his eyes stern yet full of trust.
He raised his sword high, its tip gleaming under the dim torchlight scattered sparsely along the stone walls.
"Then let's go," he declared boldly. "The road ahead is long. But this time..."
Diavel paused, a faint smile brushing his lips, "...we won't be alone anymore."
The sound of footsteps began to echo, one step at a time, then gradually merging into a steady, powerful rhythm.
The figures, both new and old, slowly became one.
And in the heart of the cold tunnel, that small flame, fragile though it was, continued to burn, signaling the beginning of a journey none of them could have foreseen.
...
The winding tunnel was like a massive labyrinth, curving in ways no map could ever truly depict.
Each step echoed into the darkness, a lingering reverberation, like the voice of an old soul yet to find peace.
The faint light from the torches flickering in the group's hands cast long, distorted shadows on the rocky walls, figures stretched and twisted, like silhouettes living lives of their own, a silent dance between darkness and light, between hope and fear.
As they passed a pitch-black intersection, Ren glanced at the torch in Chest's hand. The warm yellow glow lit up half of the quiet man's face, making him look like an introverted young man. Unable to contain his curiosity, Ren asked softly:
"Chest… why are you using a torch? The glowing crystals are easier to carry and don't go out on the way."
Chest turned his head, blinking as if just pulled from a deep stream of thought. He replied slowly, his voice low like stone striking stone:
"Because I'm training my crafting skill."
Ren paused for a moment, not quite understanding.
"Crafting… torches?"
"Yeah." Chest nodded, lifting the torch in his hand like living proof. "I've made dozens like this. Wood's easy to pick up around here, flint too. Each time I craft one, I get a bit of experience. It adds up over time."
Ren blinked. He'd never thought anyone would be so… strangely diligent. "But the crystals are still more convenient, aren't they?"
Chest shrugged. "Crystals are expensive. Torches… sometimes work as weapons."
"Weapons?"
"Yeah. Once, I swung and hit a bat flying down. It caught fire and flew around in a panic, the rest of the swarm scattered. I've also burned a few baby spiders. Small things fear the flame."
Ren furrowed his brows slightly, unsure if it was Chest's seriousness or practicality that struck him more.
"I just don't want to waste resources," Chest added, then turned away, the torch in his hand tracing a short streak of light in the darkness.
Ren glanced up at the system map, the only thing that had helped him and his friends escape from getting lost all the times before.
But this time, the map unfolded a tangled mess of paths, complex as the interwoven roots of a dead tree. They weren't alive, yet they refused to let anyone out easily.
Worse, many dead ends appeared like severed fingers, cold and lifeless.
And yet, ahead of them, Diavel continued forward without the slightest hesitation.
As if he'd walked this place hundreds of times, or at least possessed a supernatural instinct, one that let him read the smallest details on the walls, the floor, the seemingly meaningless cracks.
Ren couldn't be sure whether it was experience, sharp observation, or… something else.
But he couldn't take his eyes off that figure, straight-backed, like a spear pointed forward without the slightest tremble.
Right behind Diavel was Lind, cold-eyed and sharp like a blade, then Shivata, now very different from when they had talked serious and sharp, saying nothing.
Ren walked between Yuna and Nautilus. No one spoke. Not a single whisper pierced the thick air in the tunnel. The group moved forward, their synchronized footsteps like a silent ritual.
Occasionally, they passed through collapsed areas, where once-massive stone columns that supported the ceiling had fallen, crushing pathways and forming narrow passages that forced them to move in single file, like lost pilgrims in the dark.
No one spoke. There was no need.
The soft breaths, the crunch of footsteps on crumbling earth, the faint scrape of metal against sword sheath all of it was proof of their presence, their survival in this cold place.
And then, they ventured deeper.
This area was unlike the natural caves they had wandered through before. There was something… different. Strange. Silent. Ancient.
Ren suddenly realized he was walking on a flat stone path, its edges carefully carved. This couldn't have formed naturally.
He looked up to see standing stone pillars, relics of a civilization long buried beneath the earth.
'Did someone once live here?' The question echoed in Ren's mind, then was drowned by the tiny sound of a pebble rolling under his foot.
He quickly looked down. The road surface was flat, but cracked in many places.
Some areas looked aged and decayed...one wrong step and the entire group could fall into a deeper, darker layer. Or worse, one without an exit.
Ren gripped his sword tighter, lips pressed into a thin line.
Now was not the time to look up and dream.
Every step was a gamble, and he had to stay sharp.
"Our target is the Kobolds around this area," Diavel spoke, his steady voice echoing off the cold stone walls.
He slowly looked around, his sharp gaze seemingly measuring each face, every small movement. It felt like he was trying to etch the image of each new teammate into his memory or perhaps he was silently gauging the resolve in their eyes.
"We've scouted this area before," Diavel continued, his tone firm. "We know where the Kobolds appear most… and more importantly, where it's relatively safe to fight."
A brief silence fell, broken only by the occasional crackle of torch fire in the dark.
"That doesn't mean it's not dangerous," Lind interjected, his voice cold as a knife's edge. "Drop your guard, and a single hit could be the end."
Ren subtly tightened his grip on the sword at his hip. No one needed a reminder of the price of even a second's carelessness here.
Diavel nodded at Lind's warning, then looked straight ahead, toward the shadows that grew even thicker.
"But we're not alone. If we fight together, we can go farther than anyone else ever has."
A few nodded silently. No one voiced disagreement.
In the chill of the stone and the silence of the deep earth, among the dim paths, the faintest spark of belief began to take root.