The abyss surged. The heavy cage, a monument of etched iron and splintering lumber, groaned as the remaining cables tore free with the sound of snapping bone. Bodies already battered, the students shrieked, a chorus swallowed by the wind rushing upwards. Voldis, pressed against the cold grate, felt the sickening lurch, the freefall. The churning fog below, a hungry maw, swelled to meet them. He didn’t scream. His gaze fixated on a particularly dense patch of mist directly beneath his plummeting section, a marker only visible to his trained eye. [Echo Log: FALL DAMAGE CALCULATED. LETHAL IMPACT IMMINENT. EVASION PROCEDURES RECOMMENDED.] “Brace!” he roared, a guttural sound torn from his throat, but it was for himself, not the flailing aristocrats. His fingers tightened on the iron grate, his knuckles white. The cage slammed into the viscous fog, not with a solid thud, but a tearing, grinding crash. Iron shrieked against itself, wood splintered, and the thick, unyielding mist offered no soft landing. It was a concrete wall disguised as vapor. Just as the structure began to deform, Voldis executed a perfect dodge roll. It wasn't a physical act of propulsion, but a precisely timed twitch, a fraction-of-a-second input that triggered a known exploit. The system, interpreting the input as a combat maneuver, granted him a flicker of invincibility. His body shimmered, a barely perceptible distortion in the plummeting chaos. The air around him warped into a blur of grey-white and splintering black. Metal screeched, groaning like a dying beast as the cage imploded, crushing those still trapped within its collapsing frame. He landed hard on what remained of the cage floor, the collision still jarring, but survivable. A pain shot through his arm, a dull throb, but no broken bones. He pushed himself up, already assessing the wreckage. Around him, the remnants of the cage lay mangled, half-submerged in a shallow, viscous pool of black water. Groans and whimpers emanated from the buckled metal. Most of the other students were dead, limbs at grotesque angles, drowned in the murky liquid, or crushed beyond recognition. “Impossible…” a voice rasped, close by. A noble girl, her face streaked with grime and blood, clutched a broken arm. Her eyes, wide and horrified, stared not at the mangled bodies, but at him. “How did you… no one survives that fall.” Kaspars, coughing, dragged himself from beneath a warped iron beam. A deep gash bled freely from his temple, his leg warped at an unnatural angle. The double-EXP ring was gone from his finger, ripped away during the crash. Kaspars bared his teeth in a silent snarl. He registered Voldis's unblemished tunic, the cold precision of his stance, and bitter shame sharpened his breath. “The ring… gone,” Kaspars muttered, his voice hoarse, ignoring the injured girl’s cries for help. His eyes darted around the wreckage, searching. He found no glint of silver. His vision swam. He needed to heal, to prove himself. The game demanded it. His gaze landed on a small, dark vial tucked into his inner tunic – a forbidden relic, a desperate last resort. He’d scoffed at it once, considered it the recourse of cowards. Now, his fingers trembled as he drew it out. [Echo Log: PROTAGONIST NARRATIVE DIVERGENCE DETECTED. Kaspars – Forbidden Blood-Mage Path Initiated. Blood of the Abyssal Serpent Vial Consumed. Stat Conversion: HP 15% -> STR 10%, DEX 10%. Rotting Marrow Affliction Resistance – Decreased by 0.001%.] Kaspars uncorked the vial, a potent, coppery scent filling the air. He poured the thick, crimson liquid directly onto his bleeding temple. The wound hissed, steaming, and the gash knitted itself shut with unnatural speed. His twisted leg straightened, bones audibly cracking back into place. A surge of power, cold and alien, coursed through his veins, dulling the pain. His eyes, fixed on Voldis, glinted with a newfound, chilling malice. He had cheated death, but at a cost. The world had shifted, molded by his desperation. “Kaspars!” the girl cried again, shrill panic rising in her throat. “Your eyes… what did you do?” He ignored her, his newly healed body taut with a dark energy. He simply watched Voldis, a silent, venomous promise hanging in the thick air. “Over here, wayfinder,” a soft voice cut through the silence, eerily close. From the swirling mist, Milda emerged. Her beacon, a fragile cage of iron and flickering emerald light, cut a sharp circle of visibility in the oppressive gloom. The light pulsed, pushing back the encroaching shadows. Her gaze, serious and knowing, found Voldis instantly. Her luminescence gave off dry, medicinal heat against the icy dampness that seeped into his bones. [Echo Log: Milda’s Abyssal Lantern – Rotting Marrow Progression Temporarily Halted. Disease Progression: 364.000 Days Remaining.] Voldis felt the strange relief, the slowing of the clock, even for a moment. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment. “Thanks.” “This isn’t the way the descent was supposed to go,” Milda said, her voice barely a whisper, yet clear as a bell in the heavy fog. She gestured with her brass lamp, indicating a path through the scattered debris and into the deeper mist. “The game… it tries to correct itself. But you’re changing things. Faster than it can adjust.” Kaspars watched them, his face impassive now, but a vein throbbed in his neck. The other surviving students, shocked and injured, could only stare, too afraid to move deeper into the unknown. Zemyna was not among the survivors; a small, dark relief for Voldis. “What’s down here?” Voldis asked, tracking the green glow, stepping over a discarded scroll. The air grew colder, thicker. “Things that shouldn’t be awake yet,” Milda replied, her voice tinged with melancholy. “Things the academy thought were safely contained. Follow closely. My light is… selective.” The fog pressed in, obscuring everything beyond the emerald halo. The ground underfoot grew slick with a thin, black slime. A guttural growl echoed from the depths, a sound too resonant for ordinary vermin. A hulking shape detached itself from the gloom, its hide like rough-hewn granite, its two glowing eyes fixed on the lamp. It was a Grawl-Beast, a notorious early-game boss, its presence here an unnerving anomaly. “Grawl-Beast,” Voldis murmured, already plotting. Its pathing, its attack patterns, its weaknesses – he knew them all from thousands of speedrun attempts. This was a gift, a chance to gain easy levels. The stalker lumbered forward, broad talons tearing gashes in the murky ground. It let out another roar, shaking the very air. Its primary attack, a wide frontal swipe, was devastating, but predictable. Voldis sprinted forward, not towards Milda, but toward a colossal, half-collapsed pillar of rune-etched stone, an ancient support for the spires above. “Voldis, no! It will crush you!” Milda cried, her voice laced with rare alarm. He ignored her, skidding to a halt behind the pillar, just as the Grawl-Beast charged. The beast, bound by rigid pathing code, attempted to navigate around the obstruction. Its bulk proved too broad; its thick shoulders wedged against the masonry, its frustrated roars echoing through the fog. Its glowing eyes darted wildly, confused by the obstacle it couldn’t bypass. [Echo Log: Abyssal Grawl-Beast – Pathing Glitch Exploited. Vulnerability Window – Open.] Voldis drew his short sword, the steel glinting faintly in Milda’s light. He methodically began to strike, targeting the creature’s exposed back, a known weak point. Each blow, though small against its titanic hide, found its mark, chipping away at its health. The Grawl-Beast thrashed, unable to turn, unable to retaliate. Its roars turned to pained bellows, its struggles growing weaker. Within minutes, the beast shuddered, its eyes fading. It collapsed with a deafening crash, its immense body striking the pillar and sending tremors through the ground. The fog seemed to momentarily thin around its corpse, revealing the sheer scale of the creature. Voldis wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. The experience points flowed in, the Echo Log a blur of crimson text. [Echo Log: Abyssal Grawl-Beast Defeated! Experience Gained: 2,500. Level Up! Level 6 Achieved!] [Echo Log: LORE FRAGMENT ACQUIRED: The Rotting Marrow – A Symbiotic Parasite, not a Disease. Inoculated by the Veil-Priesthood. Official Seal of High Prelate Jurgis – Confirmed.]

Abyssal I-Frames