The morning air in the Chalkis Schola’s main courtyard tasted of ash and desperation. Varnar found Gallio flexing his biceps near a moss-covered gargoyle, practicing a rudimentary sword stance that looked more like an interpretive dance. The ‘Hero of Justice’ wore a fresh, scarlet-dyed tunic, oblivious to the world-ending timer ticking down. Varnar swallowed, his throat tight with a familiar tremor of social anxiety. “Gallio,” Varnar squeaked, his voice cracking. “A word?” Gallio, startled, nearly skewered himself with his training blade, a dull bronze relic. “Ah, Varnar! My friend! You’re looking… robust today.” He beamed, a terrifyingly innocent expression. “Did you finally join a combat class? Perhaps the Spear-Throwing Discipline? Your prowess with projectile objects is… unique.” “Something like that,” Varnar mumbled, trying not to cringe. “I, ah, need your assistance. A… training expedition. To a highly secret, incredibly difficult zone. For heroes of your caliber.” He winced internally at the blatant flattery. Gallio was level 12. The Abyssal Depths were level 80+. This was a death march. Gallio puffed out his chest. “A secret zone? Difficult, you say? Excellent! My destiny calls! Where do we venture?” His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his dull sword. “The… Vermillion Gorges. Just beyond the Schola’s lower terraces,” Varnar lied smoothly. “It’s a place of ‘advanced tactical growth.’ Very challenging.” He omitted the part where the Vermillion Gorges led directly to the Abyssal Depths, a zone rife with instant-death triggers and aggressive fauna. A baby dragon chirped from Varnar’s satchel, its tiny head poking out, eyes bright with chaotic energy. Gallio nodded gravely. “I understand. A true test of valor. Lead the way, Varnar!” As they descended the winding, unstable staircases carved into the caldera’s inner rim, the stench of sulfur grew stronger. Zosima materialized from a shadow-draped lintel, her twin blades gleaming. Her eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, fixed on Varnar. “You. The ‘Arborist.’ Othrys is still spitting curses about you breaching the archives. And you’re dragging the Hero into the ravines?” Her gaze hardened. “Are you trying to get him killed, or just look more suspicious?” Varnar flinched. “It’s a… guided tour. Educational.” Zosima scoffed, but a flicker of something unreadable crossed her features as she observed the reptile's head bobbing from Varnar’s satchel. “Fine. But if the ‘Hero’ trips on his own feet and dies, I’m holding you responsible for the loot drop.” She fell in behind them, a silent, menacing shadow. They reached the sun-baked, craggy floor of the Vermillion Ravine, where the air shimmered with heat. Sulphuric vents hissed, and strange, petrified flora dotted the landscape. Gallio, humming a jaunty tune, immediately took a step onto a patch of rust-colored moss. A vermilion glyph flared beneath his boot. [WARNING: One-Hit-Kill Trap Detected! Deadly Spike Pit Activated!] “Oh, a pretty light!” Gallio exclaimed, about to admire it. Varnar moved. He lunged, shoving Gallio hard. The Hero stumbled backward, falling into Zosima’s arms with a grunt of surprise. Varnar, however, landed directly on the glyph. Before the spikes could materialize, the whelp let out a high-pitched shriek, its tiny, glitchy body flaring with an invisible aura. Varnar felt a strange, momentary invulnerability, a brief hiccup in reality. The trap’s animation stuttered. The spikes, half-formed, vanished. [NOTICE: Improper Physics Interaction Detected. ‘NPC Pet Invulnerability Frame Abuse’ identified. – 10 Merit Points.] “Varnar!” Zosima barked, dropping Gallio and pulling Varnar back by his tunic. Her grip was surprisingly gentle. “What in the name of the Blighted Abyss was that? You just… absorbed a deadly trap?” Gallio, now on solid ground, dusted himself off. “A truly brave maneuver, Varnar! You took the hit for me! A true hero!” Varnar’s face felt hot. “It was… a specialized defensive technique. Very advanced.” Before he could explain the finer points of bounding box exploitation, a shriek echoed from the canyon walls. Three Hulking Abominations, massive, multi-limbed horrors with chitinous hides, scuttled from a shadowy crevice. Their level indicators glowed a menacing ‘85.’ “Fiends!” Zosima snarled, her blades raised. “Level eighty-five! Varnar, Gallio, these are endgame monsters! What did you lead us into?!” She plunged into combat, a whirlwind of steel, but her heavy swings moved with a noticeable wind-up. She struck one beast, its shell groaning, but the other two quickly flanked her, their claws ripping at her armor. Gallio, meanwhile, bravely charged the third beast, his bronze sword bouncing harmlessly off its hide. “Fear not, foul beast! Justice will prevail!” The fiend backhanded him, sending him skidding across the gravel. Varnar’s mind raced. Zosima was strong, but her attack swings were slow, leaving her open. He needed a distraction, something to give her an edge. He scanned the environment. A thick patch of ‘Cinnabar Thistle’—a common crafting reagent with a gather-tick pause—grew nearby. “Zosima!” Varnar yelled, dodging a swipe from a monster that ignored him, pathing directly towards Gallio. “Your heavy attack! Strike the weed after you swing!” Zosima, parrying a blow, glanced at him, bewildered. “The weeds? Are you mad?!” “Just do it!” Varnar insisted, grabbing a handful of gravel and flinging it at a beast’s glowing eye, momentarily drawing its aggro. “Swing, then gather!” She hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then trusted him. Zosima unleashed a powerful overhead strike that slammed into a brute, staggering it. Instead of waiting for the long recovery frame, her hand shot out, snatching at the spiny weed. [Item Acquired: Cinnabar Thistle (x1)] [NOTICE: Improper Physics Interaction Detected. ‘Gather-Tick Frame Cancel’ identified. – 5 Merit Points.] The instant the pick-tick registered, Zosima’s body snapped out of the heavy attack’s cooldown, her twin edges already arcing for another strike. Her brow climbed as raw understanding took hold. The speed, the fluidity—it was impossible. She slammed another heavy blow into the monster, then plucked another stem, chaining her attacks with blinding rapidity. “By the Void…” Zosima whispered, a strange, breathless sound. The abomination, unable to react to her sudden, unnatural burst of damage, dissolved into a shower of purple motes. She turned to the next one, her movements a blur. Gone was the clumsy gladiator; in her place was a whirlwind of precision and raw power. Her eyes, usually so disdainful, now held a fierce, almost reverent intensity as they flickered to Varnar. “What *is* this… this art?” Varnar, still lobbing pebbles at the remaining brute, offered a shaky smile. “It’s… Arborist’s Geometry.” With Zosima transformed into a veritable DPS god, the remaining horrors fell swiftly. Their bodies exploded into loot, and Gallio, still recovering from his initial backhand, clapped heartily. “Magnificent, Zosima! Your combat arts have reached a new zenith!” Zosima merely stared at her steel blades, then at Varnar, a flush rising on her cheeks. “It… it changes everything.” She didn’t look away from him. They pressed onward, the landscape growing more desolate, the air heavy with the scent of minerals and something ancient. Zosima, now a force of nature, effortlessly carved a path through the scattered packs of level 70-plus creatures, each glitch-canceled swing displaying her newfound, impossible speed. Varnar, meanwhile, guided them through treacherous terrain, pointing out invisible traps and leading them along subtly glitched pathways that bypassed entire sections of the gorge. Finally, after hours of relentless travel, a monolithic portal carved from black volcanic rock loomed before them. The air grew cold, a chilling contrast to the gorge’s heat. This was it: the Abyssal Gate. The entrance to the endgame zone, the Necrotic Chasm, where the main questline could be sequence-broken. Gallio stared up at the stone portal, his bravado wavering. “This… this is a training ground? It feels… foreboding.” Varnar felt a rush of adrenaline. He was so close. He just needed to get Gallio through this gate. As they approached, a shimmer of ruby light erupted from the gate. A translucent, blood-red barrier coalesced, pulsing with malevolent energy. Floating text materialized in the air, cold and definitive. [ACCESS DENIED: LEVEL REQUIREMENT NOT MET.] [ENFORCING DEATH PENALTY LASERS.]

The Abyssal Escort Mission