“Not even a damned fork in the road?” Leon muttered to himself as he trudged through the lightless passage. His voice echoed hollowly as if speaking into a well, while the acrid stench of ancient dust assaulted his nostrils.
By his reckoning, at least a full day had passed. He had left Karta far behind. The underground passage appeared to serve as an evacuation route, just as Philip had surmised—designed to allow citizens to flee the city in times of crisis.
With nothing but an exit at its end, there were no pitfalls or obstacles to navigate, unlike the trap-laden tombs of the southern provinces. Save for the occasional squeaking of rats, the passage offered smooth travel. Leon walked without pause, managing to eat and drink without breaking his stride.
The physical journey wasn’t difficult. What weighed on his steps wasn’t blood-flecked coughs or trembling hands, but something more insidious—auditory hallucinations. His mind, exhausted by the oppressive darkness, conjured sounds from nothing, growing worse with each passing hour until weariness seeped into his very bones.
His sensitive ears insisted on hearing sounds that defied logical explanation, such as footsteps and the metallic clatter of weaponry. Not just one or two phantoms, but hundreds of spectral warriors marching directly behind him. Such sounds would make an ordinary man’s hair stand on end, but Leon knew them all too well, and a twisted, self-mocking smile played across his lips.
They were the fallen knights of Tyran. Under the light, that legion of corpses would be vividly painted with crimson stains.
He considered it a bitter mercy that Veronica’s voice remained absent from his auditory torment.
If I’d heard her calling through this darkness, I would have frozen in place, rooted to the spot.
If he had seen a vision of an ordinary life—a modest cottage with her, brilliant sunlight dappling through summer leaves—he would have sold his soul for it, even knowing it was nothing but illusion. He couldn’t bear to leave her, not even in his hallucinations. Never again.
His mechanical stride faltered. Leon sensed the abrupt change in the air as the space opened up around him, and he extended his arm. The confining wall had vanished. The ceiling, too, now stretched beyond his reach. After crouching to examine the uneven floor beneath him, Leon drew his sword without hesitation.
Apocalypse vibrated more intensely than before, guiding its master deeper into the darkness. Following its silent direction, Leon suddenly sensed the movement of a vast horde and stopped dead. This time it wasn’t a hallucination but reality. As he suppressed his presence, he glimpsed a sea of crimson eyes swarming like insects below the path he traveled. The Bahamuts were moving as an entire legion.
Leon waited calmly, betraying no surprise. Being discovered and forced into combat in such treacherous terrain would present countless complications. Suddenly, something tickled his ear, and when he looked up, he spotted pale, finger-like fungi embedded in the stone wall—a species that grew exclusively in the Blasen Mountains. This could only mean one thing: he stood within a cave system of the collapsed mountain.
This was the Bahamuts’ nest, the place Veronica had glimpsed in her vision.
That the Grand Cathedral connected to the Blasen Mountains would surprise no scholar of church history. After all, it was upon the summit of Mount Blasen where the first high priest had received the divine commandments.
After enduring an excruciating wait, the Bahamut legion finally vanished completely from sight. Leon resumed his journey as if nothing had happened.
The mundane cave formations continued until his view suddenly opened onto a vast, mirror-like lake. As he circled the perimeter of the midnight-blue waters, Leon paused to replenish his water supply and splash his face. With each droplet that fell, his reflected visage blurred then sharpened, blurred then sharpened.
Have I reached my limit? he wondered. I need to rest my eyes, if only for a moment. Otherwise…
Suddenly, he heard a low sound of someone sniffling.
He froze instantly. His thoughts severed as cleanly as if cut by a blade, and before he could process anything, his head whipped around.
He stared with predatory intensity into the pitch-black void beyond the lake. Focusing his hearing, he caught the faint sound of a moan. It was the delicate sound of someone in agony—a painfully familiar woman’s voice.
His body moved of its own accord, pure instinct taking control. He completely forgot his physical exhaustion and the hallucinations that had plagued him. His pace quickened to a sprint. His vision sharpened with adrenaline. When he reached a dazzling white hill, Leon’s eyes searched desperately for anything besides human remains.
There, in the center of the bone-white field, a sword stood embedded in the ground. A woman lay beside it. He charged down the slope.
“Veronica!”
As Leon approached, a curse escaped his lips at the sight of her blood-soaked chemise, barely covering her frail form. Unconscious and clammy with cold sweat, Veronica was a pitiful sight—blood staining her lips and hands. It had been a while since he last felt his carefully maintained composure evaporating like this. For the first time since returning from the battle at the city walls and finding her in her sickbed, he teetered on the precipice of losing control. It felt as though blood were seeping through the earth beneath his feet, with nothing to stop it.
His jaw clenched at the sight of Genesis deeply embedded in her palm. Deciding there was no alternative, he acted with swift resolve. When he wrenched the divine blade free, Veronica thrashed wildly, a cry of anguish tearing from her throat. He shed his armor and sliced off the sleeve of the padded garment he wore beneath, binding her wounded hand tightly to stem the bleeding. Veronica’s face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her ashen cheeks.
“Just hold on a little longer. I can’t properly clean the wound here, but I need to at least rinse it with water,” Leon whispered to the barely conscious woman as he gathered her into his arms to carry her to the lake. She was frighteningly light—pale as parchment and so emaciated she seemed as if she might fade away entirely. As he prepared to rise, her hazy eyes fluttered open. Her cracked voice called to him.
“Leon…?”
“Don’t speak. Save your strength.”
As if the pain had jolted her back to awareness, her eyes gradually cleared. Her trembling hand clutched desperately at his tunic.
“No…”
“What is it?” he asked, not because he failed to understand her words but because the emotion crystallizing in her clearing eyes was so—
“Run… run away from here.”
It was unmistakable terror.
“It’s coming to kill you. Leave me behind and run, now, before it’s too late.”
It was a terror so profound it threatened to devour her whole—like stepping into an abyss that would drag her under without mercy.
Leon stared transfixed at her eyes as if under their spell, before finally lowering his gaze to her trembling body. His battle-hardened hands pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying her face against the solid warmth of his chest. The pressure of his arms offered a strange sanctuary amid the chaos. His deep voice rumbled above her head as she gasped for breath.
“Ease your grip,” he murmured. “You’ll reopen your wounds.”
“Leon, I…”
“I know. It’s all right. There aren’t any Bahamuts around right now.”
A preternatural silence enveloped them. Veronica listened to the steady heartbeat of the knight who held her completely in his protective embrace. As the strength in her fingers clutching his clothes gradually loosened, her mind surrendered to blessed emptiness.
She had been terrified. She had thought death had come for her. She had believed she would never see his face again.
How Leon had found her in this forsaken place—she had no time to wonder about such things. Her awakened consciousness was being consumed by the rising tide of terror. She remembered the grotesque sensation emanating from that inhuman entity, and the inexplicable dread she couldn’t rationalize even to herself. It knew about Leon. It was hunting him. The haunting whisper crept through her mind like venomous insects.
“When he dies, you will become my loyal family.”
“I met the First Bahamut,” Veronica blurted.
Despite the suddenness of her declaration, Leon showed no surprise. The divine sword that had been embedded in her flesh seemed to have alerted him to the enemy’s presence. But that was all he knew. He didn’t truly understand what It was. He had never encountered It in its human guise. He couldn’t even begin to imagine those eyes, that voice, that expression. It was a human that wasn’t human—but still filled with longing, benevolence, jealousy…
“You can never kill It,” Veronica stated with grim certainty. There was no way he’d be able to cut down a monster wearing her face.
Leon remained silent for what felt like an eternity, only opening his mouth when Veronica, unable to bear the crushing silence any longer, attempted to raise her head.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice unwavering.
“Leon…”
“Remember your promise to stay by my side?”
In that moment, her chaotic thoughts froze to perfect stillness. Veronica bit her trembling lip and met his penetrating gaze. How could she possibly forget? That peaceful night beneath the stars had been the beacon that guided her through this nightmare.