Their footsteps echoed across the barren stone, the shattered remains of Velmara's outer ring stretching around them like a field of bones. The earlier battle had left a scar—both on the land and in the air. The taste of blood had settled in Asari's lungs like dust, but there was no time to rest.
The path ahead bent downward, a tunnel carved not by human hands but by something more ancient. Something hungry.
Aicha wheeled beside him, the silence between them not uncomfortable—but alert.
They both felt it.
"Something's coming," she muttered, her hand resting on the grip of her dagger.
Asari nodded. "It's been following since the temple fell."
Suddenly, the stone groaned. From the far end of the tunnel, footsteps emerged. Not one pair. Many.
Figures stepped into view—gaunt, tall, and draped in crimson cloth that dragged behind them. Their faces were covered by bone masks, etched with spirals. And in their hands—long spears with hooks at the tips, stained black.
"Harvesters," Aicha whispered. "I've read about them… but they shouldn't exist anymore."
"They do now," Asari said, stepping forward.
The Harvesters moved in eerie silence, spreading in formation. Their aura oozed something foul—like decay wrapped in ritual. When one raised its spear, the others followed. Then they charged.
Sword Style – Devil Cry: Step 1 – Blood Bloom.Asari surged ahead, his blade slicing through the first Harvester with ease. The body collapsed, but something slithered out of its mouth—a black tendril, reaching for him.
He twisted away, slicing it clean with a second motion.
Aicha activated her rune circle, creating a barrier around her chair as spears clanged against it. She retaliated with an explosive light rune—burning one of them to ash.
But the Harvesters didn't fall like normal beings.
Every time Asari killed one, another rose behind it. The floor was soaked red now, and the temperature kept dropping.
Then came the whisper.
A single word.
"Return."
One of the Harvesters grew in size, its cloak unraveling to reveal dozens of eyes stitched into its flesh.
Mutated Harvester: Eye of the Womb.
The air screamed.
Asari's sword trembled.
"I'll end this quickly."
Sword Style – Devil Cry: Step 2 – Severing Rain.
He launched into the air, raining down a flurry of devastating slashes. The mutated Harvester roared as limbs were severed, but its core still pulsed—a grotesque heart made of writhing roots.
"Hit the core!" Aicha yelled.
Asari twisted midair.
New Technique – Phantom Dagger: Crimson Tail.He hurled a curved shadow-blade from his heel, which spiraled and pierced the core like a drill. The mutated Harvester let out a final shriek, its eyes bursting like rotten fruit before collapsing into black smoke.
The remaining Harvesters froze.
Then disintegrated into dust.
Silence fell again.
Asari landed heavily, his blade still humming with dark energy. He didn't say a word, just stared ahead. The path was clear now, but only for a moment.
Aicha wheeled to his side. "Are you okay?"
"I'm used to it," he muttered.
"No one should get used to this," she said softly.
He turned, met her gaze—and for a moment, there was warmth behind his hollow stare. Just a flicker.
They walked again, leaving the crimson-stained soil behind.
The next corridor was worse.
The walls were covered in skin.
Pale, veined, stretched skin that breathed as they passed. Faces were embedded within it—frozen in expressions of agony, as if each soul had been pressed into the wall by force.
Aicha gagged, covering her mouth. "This… this place is alive."
Asari didn't flinch. "It's more than alive. It's watching."
Then came the sound—a low rumble, like something vast and sleeping was shifting below them. The ground cracked. Red mist seeped from the fissures.
A hand reached out.
Then a second. Dozens.
Creatures began crawling from the mist—pale, eyeless, with mouths that ran across their torsos instead of faces.
Entity – Mawborne.
They howled in pain. Not anger. Not rage. Pure suffering.
Asari clenched his blade.
Sword Style – Devil Cry: Step 3 – Mourning Arc.He leapt forward, his blade dragging behind him like a comet's tail. With a single upward slash, he cleaved through five of them—but they didn't fall. They kept crawling, desperate to bite, to devour.
Aicha summoned a dark glyph.
Rune Spell – Silent Abyss.
The area around her sank into a black field of silence, trapping three of the Mawborne inside. No sound. No motion. No escape.
They collapsed.
But more came.
For every one that died, two took its place.
"Asari!" she shouted. "We have to fall back!"
"No. We go forward."
He slashed again, this time with both hands.
Dual Technique – Shadow Maw Cleave.
He tore a path open in front of them, leading to a stairwell drenched in violet light.
He grabbed Aicha's wheelchair, pushing her through. The creatures shrieked behind them, clawing at the edges—but none followed past the light.
They stood still.
Breathing heavily.
The path behind was nothing but death.
The path ahead was the unknown.
Closing Quote (Sad)
"Every step I take in this world tears away what little I have left of myself… but turning back means surrendering to the void."