Aicha's breath caught as the corridor twisted unnaturally around them, stone shifting like muscle beneath skin. Asari stepped in front of her without hesitation, his eyes fixed forward. The eerie architecture of Velmara's understructure was no longer just unsettling—it was alive.
"Stay behind me," he said.
Aicha nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she held her dagger.
From the walls, black liquid eyes opened—one, two, ten—watching, unblinking. A scent like rotting blood spilled into the corridor. Then came the sound: claws scraping stone, wet breathing echoing too close.
Asari narrowed his eyes. "They're not from this plane."
From the darkness, the hounds emerged—beasts of flesh stitched with iron and bone, their maws filled with teeth that screamed rather than bit. Their limbs bent in unnatural angles, and their skin split open as they moved, revealing burning sigils carved into raw muscle.
Aicha staggered back. "What are those?!"
"Bloodhounds of the Hollow Maw," Asari said. "Devourers of soul traces. They hunt memory and purpose."
The first hound lunged. Asari's blade met it midair, cleaving it in half with Shadow Maw Cleave—a wide arc that tore not only flesh but the essence behind it. The beast let out a dying gurgle, its form melting into black fluid that sizzled on the ground.
More came.
Asari raised his free hand. Ghost Walking: Step 2.
He vanished. Time fractured for a second, and then he reappeared behind two hounds, his blade whispering through their necks before they knew he was there. Crimson trails split the air behind him, then shimmered into smoke.
Aicha backed into a wall, watching, heart pounding. "This place is hell."
"Hell doesn't move," Asari murmured, eyes darting. "This is worse."
More hounds dropped from the ceiling. Dozens. They moved like puppets—graceful, wrong. Aicha ducked, slicing at one with her dagger, barely grazing it. It shrieked, recoiling, but another was already upon her.
Asari surged forward.
Devil Cry: Step 3 - Silence of the Blade.
Everything stopped. The sound of battle fell into a vacuum. In that instant of void, Asari moved like shadow incarnate. His blade struck with quiet finality, cleaving through five hounds in one breathless heartbeat. Then the world caught up—the sound returned in a wave of screams and bone cracks.
Blood—black and slick—spattered the walls.
Aicha collapsed to her knees, gasping. Asari knelt beside her, helping her up.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, forcing a shaky smile. "Just… tired."
The hounds were retreating—but not out of fear. Asari saw it in their eyes. They were being called back.
"This was a test," he whispered. "A warning."
A tremor rippled through the corridor. A distant chime echoed—a sound like a funeral bell rung underwater. Then silence.
The walls trembled once more, then returned to stone.
Asari helped Aicha to her feet. They walked slowly now, deeper into the ruins, silence wrapping around them like mourning cloth.
They reached a door.
It wasn't carved or built. It simply was. A void in the wall, blacker than shadow. Something beyond it whispered, pulling at Asari's soul. Not malevolently, but with the gentle insistence of something forgotten.
Aicha touched his arm. "Do we enter?"
Asari stared at the void. Then nodded.
They stepped through.
It was cold—colder than death. But not the cold of winter or ice. The cold of absence.
They emerged into a vast chamber. At its center stood a monument of flesh and stone, shaped like a heart but larger than a man. It beat slowly, thudding with sickening rhythm. Around it stood statues—some broken, some kneeling. All weeping blood.
On the walls, names were etched in a language neither of them could read. Some glowed. Others were scratched out.
"A memorial?" Aicha asked.
Asari looked at the heart. It pulsed once more. A whisper reached him.
—Welcome, child of the Silent Flame.
He stiffened.
The blade on his back pulsed. A new technique unfolded in his mind.
Sable Waltz: Execution Mirage.
He closed his eyes, feeling the rhythm of this chamber echo in his soul.
Aicha looked at him with worry. "What is it?"
"Another memory," he replied. "But not mine. Someone who came before… someone who didn't leave."
Asari turned, facing the exit that wasn't there a moment ago. A path opened.
Behind them, the chamber began to fade.
They stepped out together.
The horror wasn't over. But they were still breathing. Still moving.
And as long as that was true, they would keep going.
Sad Quote:
"Even the strongest forget what it feels like to be loved when they've been hunted too long."