The rain had not stopped since morning. Thunder murmured above the dense canopy of the northern forest of Velmara, and the air was thick with moisture, rot, and something far more sinister.
Asari walked ahead, his steps light but deliberate, his eather coiling around his body like mist. Aicha followed close, seated in a floating cradle of condensed eather shaped by Asari's will. Her eyes scanned the thick shadows of the trees, but she could feel it more than see it—something unnatural stirring nearby.
"The atmosphere here... it's wrong," she muttered.
Asari stopped, placing a hand against the blackened bark of an old tree. The wood was cold—unnaturally so. He closed his eyes.
"They're watching," he said.
A sudden silence fell. Even the rain seemed to hesitate.
From the shadows, something moved.
A hunched figure stepped forward, its limbs too long, its eyes sunken but glowing faintly red. Its mouth stretched into a grin far too wide, revealing rows of broken teeth. Around its neck hung a tattered charm carved from bone.
It was Mawborn.
Asari stepped between the creature and Aicha.
"Speak."
The Mawborn tilted its head, twitching. Then it croaked, "He calls you, Crimson Devil. He knows you've returned."
"Who?"
The creature let out a broken, wheezing laugh, then whispered: "The Maw remembers. The Hidden One stirs."
Before Asari could question further, the creature's body burst into black flames, shrieking as it disintegrated into a puddle of flesh and blood. No trace of eather remained.
Aicha shivered. "It spoke… like it knew you."
Asari didn't respond immediately. His gaze was locked on the remains. "This forest is part of the 'Echoing Maw'. It's older than most lands in Velmara. My master mentioned it once—a cursed place where fallen beings whisper from the ground."
They moved quickly, weaving through dense undergrowth and decaying roots. But as night fell, the world shifted.
The trees became twisted, warped like grotesque sculptures. The air was heavy. Whispers clawed at the edges of their minds, and phantom limbs seemed to reach out from the dark.
They camped in a shallow cave nestled beside a dark stream. Aicha sat by a flickering blue fire Asari conjured using crystalized eather shards. He remained on guard, staring out at the forest.
"Tell me," Aicha said softly. "Do you think Velmara has anything worth saving?"
Asari was silent for a moment.
"The land, yes. The people…" He trailed off. "We'll see."
Suddenly, he stood. From the cave's entrance, dozens of faint red eyes glimmered in the darkness.
"I'll handle it."
He stepped into the rain, summoning his blade—black as the void, humming with deadly eather. The creatures charged.
He whispered, "Sword Art: Devil Cry – Mourning Slash."
A scream echoed as the slash tore through the night, a curved wave of crimson eather ripping through the darkness. The enemies disintegrated, their forms unable to hold against the sheer pressure.
Then the ground trembled.
From the woods emerged something massive—a Mawborn brute, standing over ten feet tall, covered in fungal armor and bound with cursed chains. Its head bore a stitched-together mask, its mouth dripped with black saliva.
It roared.
Asari leapt.
"Sword Art: Phantom Descent."
He vanished, reappearing mid-air behind the creature, sword slashing through its neck—but it didn't fall. Its regeneration was fast.
The brute retaliated, its arm transforming into a bone-blade, striking at blinding speed. Asari blocked, but the impact sent him skidding back, gouging the earth.
From within the cave, Aicha clutched her pendant. She whispered, "I must help…"
Her eather flared, the floating cradle around her dissolving into specks of light as she forced herself to stand. The pain was sharp, but she endured. Her hand extended.
"Support Type Eather Art: Binding Thread."
Threads of silver light shot from her fingers, entangling the brute's legs. It stumbled.
"Now, Asari!"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Technique Unsealed: Ghost Walking – Flicker Step."
His body blurred, then vanished—appearing directly above the brute's head.
"Final Form—Sword Art: Devil Cry – Domain Open: Crimson Requiem."
The air cracked. A dome of scarlet light engulfed the brute and Asari. Time seemed to freeze.
Within the domain, Asari stood over the Mawborn as if they were in an alternate realm—red skies, blood-soaked earth, and thousands of blades hovering mid-air.
Asari pointed his sword.
"End it."
The blades rained down.
When the domain shattered, only blood remained.
Aicha gasped as Asari emerged from the mist, his blade cracking and vanishing into fragments.
"We can't stay here," he said. "This was just a whisper of what's buried deeper in Velmara."
They didn't rest that night.
—
Beneath the ground, something shifted. A massive eye opened within the roots of the world, watching the travelers.
"They've returned… Crimson Devil and the Beacon."
In a language lost to mortals, it spoke to its children.
"Awaken."