Thoom!

A muffled thunder rolled through the water, like a drumbeat in a drowned temple.

Birand tumbled through the sea, nerves taut as bowstring, then he angled aside like a wounded shark.

He glanced back at the spot where he’d floated, like checking a star that just blinked out.

Now there was nothing there, like a candle snuffed in a cave.

Power seeped from him like heat from a forge, wary of the gust that had hurled him like a leaf.

This was the deep sea, depth unknown, like falling through night without a floor.

Sunlight couldn’t pierce here, like arrows dulled by velvet gloom.

The nearby world was devoured by blackness, like ink spilled across an endless page.

Only Birand’s position held a flicker, like a lone lantern in a storm.

He narrowed his eyes, calm like ice, while the water pressed in like stone.

In the ocean, his combat edge dulled, like a blade wrapped in kelp.

Here he couldn’t freely release his soul-sense, like refusing to light a match in dry thorns.

Who knew what it might stir, like tapping a hive and waking the swarm.

Sea-floor whirlpools were trouble, like snares hidden under snow.

He kept watch a long time and found nothing, patience fraying like old rope, then he drifted lower.

From a blind corner, a thick tentacle lashed him, like a whip cracking through tar.

Birand’s eyes flared, danger pricking him like frost on bare skin.

But in water he lacked agility, like a hawk with soaked wings.

The tentacle smashed him again, and he spun, like driftwood in a riptide.

He gritted his teeth as crimson light burst from him, like magma from a seam.

The glare burned outward, lighting the water like dawn under glass.

A colossal shadow glided above his head, like a continent passing the moon.

Birand frowned as red energy clenched into a giant fist, then he punched at the roaring mass like a falling meteor.

Roar! The sound, species unknown, thundered through the abyss, and the seabed shuddered like a struck gong.

Birand’s body became a blade, and he plunged straight down like lightning spearing earth.

Below lay a rock of impossible size, like a mountain asleep under silt.

Birand chuckled, his power carrying his voice like a bell through stone. “Hahaha! Mu! Tun! Long time no see! Is your master still alive?”

The behemoth snapped open ancient eyes and bellowed in a primordial tongue, like wind from a fossil cave. “You’re not welcome here, you wretch!”

“Hahaha! You don’t get to decide welcome,” Birand laughed, his hands unfurling into whips like serpents, striking downward. “Open the Gate of the Inferno!”

“Roar! You court death!” Mutun surged up, and the seabed wasn’t the only thing quaking; the entire undersea shook like a drumskin.

The other beast Birand had struck earlier heaved closer, like a storm swelling into a wall.

Birand grinned, showing teeth. “Heh, damn, a little scary,” he joked, then stiffened like a cat catching scent. “Huh?!”

...

In the Abyss, Edlyn jolted awake while absorbing the Fiend Source, fear rising like cold tide.

Her mind snapped back to the scene she’d seen when she retrieved it, like a lantern replaying shadows on stone.

...

Edlyn drew a deep breath and dove headfirst into the sea, like a swallow knifing rain.

She arrowed straight down, like a nail driven into iron.

As pressure mounted, her speed bled away, like wind dying in thick reeds.

She frowned, impatience nibbling like ants.

A vast fiendish aura wrapped her and parted the water, like oil shielding a flame.

She kept descending in a straight line, like a plumb line seeking earth.

Time blurred; when sunlight died and darkness poured in, it was a maw yawning wide, swallowing her small silhouette like a minnow.

Just when annoyance pricked her raw, her feet touched the floor, like toes finding stone in a black river.

She set off toward the only patch of light ahead, like a moth homing on ember.

The rugged seabed couldn’t hinder her steps, like thorns parting for a stag.

Strange fish circled, faces warped, eyes greedy yet wary, like jackals watching a hopping child.

Edlyn eyed a cave mouth half-covered by a boulder, frowning like a cloud before rain.

That half-open mouth leaked an eerie orange glow, like fire caught in amber.

She reached the entrance, and the boulder split down the middle, like ice cracking under spring.

Then a pair of uncanny giant eyes opened on the stone, red pupils sweeping her like knives.

Startled, Edlyn struck on reflex, her palm flying like a hawk’s stoop.

A black shock wave slammed the eyes, like surf pounding a cliff.

The eyes took the hit without reaction, like statues that refused to bleed.

But a voice rose from nowhere, ancient and hoarse, like wind reading broken reeds.

...

“What is this?!” Edlyn blinked in shock, lashes beating like moth wings.

“The Gate of the Inferno is under attack,” Ugillian’s voice drifted into her ear, like smoke threading a keyhole.

Urgency knifed her chest as she listened, like winter cracking a pond.

Ugillian coughed twice, then chuckled, warm and distant like a brazier through paper. “Relax. It’s under control. And with your power now, you can’t do much. Focus. Prepare to awaken.”

“...Mm.” Edlyn bit her lip, humiliation stinging like salt.

She was too weak, truth falling like snow.

But who would attack the Inferno, the question buzzing like a trapped wasp?

The Celestial Realm? She dismissed it, the thought drying like dew.

Impossible. The path to the mortal world was shattered by Birand’s world-sundering sword, like a bridge burned to ash.

Then... Birand? The name rang like iron on bone.

If he went to the Inferno, for what? Wasn’t he the Hero? The title tasted like rust.

Inferno... Inferno... Images surged like smoke.

Towering demon idols stood rigid, eyes dull as extinguished coals, their stone faces streaked with scarlet blood, like rain on tombs.

They loomed over that grim purgatory, while a long river of blood ran before them, like a serpent of wine.

Endless bones drifted, and seven or eight giant skeletons rose opposite the statues, high in the blood river like bleached towers.

“The thing sealed by those six statues!” Edlyn cried, the realization cracking like lightning.

So the thing sealed by the statue I saw before must be the reason someone’s attacking the Inferno, the thought gathered like stormcloud.

...

“Uh, I don’t fully get it,” a woman’s voice once told her, words stumbling like pebbles. “But the one who sealed him said... if these monsters’ blood doesn’t stain every statue, the seal won’t break.”

“Those monsters come from the sealed one’s power, like shadows cast by the same fire. Slam them into the statues that bind them, and the statues crack. If too many, the statue breaks. The seal weakens. That part’s inevitable.”

“Tch... You still don’t get it,” she griped, breath hot as sparks. “Those stains aren’t real blood. They’re the structure of the seal being torn, showing through like threads. The seal’s been damaged. I can’t repair it...”

“I basically clear the monsters whenever my strength returns, wave after wave, like sweeping leaves in wind. Keep them off the statues.”

“What, you think I’m a perpetual motion machine?” she snorted, temper flaring like dry pine. “I need rest. It’s been only me down here for years, cleaning and cleaning. I’m tired. I rest a day each week. Sometimes the numbers spike, I miss a few. Over time... it happens.”

“Huh? Why so salty? Who are you anyway?” she’d added, words sharp as nettles. “I saved you. No thanks, fine. But don’t throw a fit. You’ve been spoiled.”

“I know who you are. You’re the Demon King,” she said, casual as rain.

“Huh? You don’t know the Abyss, don’t know Eli, so how do you know I’m the Demon King?!” Edlyn had asked, suspicion curling like smoke.

“Why do you care?” the woman snapped, waving it off like gnats. “I just know.”

Edlyn frowned, studying her, replaying the woman’s movements like reeds recalling wind. “You...”

“What? You’ve got too many questions,” the woman huffed, impatience drumming like hail. “Enough. Leave the Inferno now. Lingering will hurt your sister.”

She raised a hand and summoned a door before Edlyn, like ink blooming in water.

Edlyn nodded. “Oh, you’re right,” she said, and carried Angela—floating limp again—toward the new doorway like a cradle through smoke.

As her front foot crossed the threshold, a thought struck her like a pebble to a bell. She turned back, puzzled. “Yiyi?!”

“What? Not going yet?” the woman shot back, annoyance flicking like a cat’s tail.

Then both froze in place, like deer catching thunder.

...

Edlyn’s face hardened. “This is bad! Future Yiyi is in danger! Ugillian, let me out!” Her urgency flared like a beacon.

Ugillian only smiled, silence falling like evening. Many things were set in stone, like rivers choosing valleys.

That girl was the same, fate curling around her like ivy.

Ugillian sighed and lifted his gaze to the endless sky, his heart whispering like wind, hoping all this would be worth it.

...

“Ha... heh. That the best you’ve got to control me?” Birand squatted on the ground, wiping sweat from his brow, grin bright as a cut.

When the two behemoths closed from both sides, he’d slipped in and drew Mutun’s bulk away from the Gate of the Inferno, like a matador teasing a bull.

Because Edlyn had visited, the Gate wouldn’t close at once; it had begun devouring stray souls from every corner, like a tide pulling in drift.

It fed the Gate’s energy, like kindling feeding a fire.

Birand blundered through the opening and slipped inside, leaving the two giants—too massive to enter—glowering outside like mountains with eyes.

He chuckled and took in the world awash in crimson light, nodding like a judge satisfied with a blade.

“Good, good. Just like this. Everything will be clear,” he said, confidence ringing like steel.

He spread his hands as the same crimson power flew out from Eli’s body, like sparks fleeing a forge.

His fingers had already begun to rot from overusing that uncanny power, withering like blighted stalks.

Birand only shrugged, careless as wind. It wasn’t his original body; what did it matter?

The red energy blended into the air, like dye seeping through silk.

Not until the sky turned blood-scarlet and heavy with iron scent did the flow slow, like rain easing after a squall.

Birand gazed at the six towering statues in the distance and smiled a wicked smile, like a fox at the henhouse. “Wait for me. Heh-heh, ha-ha.”