Witnessing the clash between the wandering stone giant and the colossal leviathan rising from the depths of the Black Sea, Orren silently came to a conclusion.
‘Nope.
That’s not a fight I can interfere with.
That would just be suicide.
I’ll stay right where I am.’ The two titans exchanged blows powerful enough to shake the heavens.
Every impact sent violent tremors through the statue beneath them, forcing Orren to tighten his grip on both Draco and the sword embedded deep into the stone for support.
Since there was nothing he could do but wait, he summoned his runes.
Name: Orren Veil True Name: Destined Doom Rank: Dreamer.
Class: Demon.
Lost Cores: [3/7] Lost Fragments: [2455/3000].
Memories: Ironscale Fang, Tyrant’s Shell, Vigil, Hunter’s Token, Warden’s Embrace, The one who remembers, Widow’s Thread, Wings of the Fallen Herald, Ivory Judgement.
Echoes: — Losts: [Venomhide Tyrant] Attributes: [Unanchored], [Mark of Divinity], [Mist-Touched].
Six relentless months of hunting across the Forgotten Shore had finally allowed him to form his third Lost Core and advance to the rank of a Demon.
It had not come cheaply.
He had nearly died more times than he cared to count, largely because the Nightmare Spell seemed determined to be stingy with its rewards.
No matter how many Nightmare Creatures he slew, Memories remained frustratingly rare.
His equipment had become his greatest weakness.
Most of his arsenal had still been of the Awakened Rank for months, forcing him to challenge Fallen creatures while relying more on experience than on superior equipment.
Against an ordinary Fallen Beast, he and Draco could usually prevail together, but anything stronger became a desperate struggle.
The worst battle had been against a Fallen Devil.
It had been a winged abomination, resembling an enormous, far deadlier version of the Spire Messenger.
Fighting it in open air would have been suicide, so Orren spent days preparing a trap, eventually luring it into a narrow section of ruined coral where its wings became a liability instead of an advantage.
The moment its flight was crippled, he and Draco attacked together.
Even grounded, however, the Devil had been terrifying.
It had beaten Orren within an inch of his life.
Bones shattered.
Armor broke.
By the end of the battle, he had won only because Draco refused to stop fighting and because his newly formed Monster Core had strengthened his body enough to endure punishment that would have killed an ordinary Sleeper several times over.
Even then, without the regenerative warmth of Warden’s Embrace, he would likely have spent weeks bedridden recovering from those injuries.
The other two Memories had been far less dramatic to obtain.
One came from hunting a spider-like Fallen Beast that lurked within the coral labyrinth.
The last had been nothing more than blind luck.
One day, after the Black Sea receded, Orren stumbled upon a Fallen Demon-sized sea creature lying on the exposed seabed, already mortally wounded after some unknown battle.
He merely finished it off before it could crawl back into the water.
After six months of constant fighting, risking his life almost every day, the Spell had rewarded him with only three new Memories: Widow’s Thread.
Wings of the Fallen Herald.
Ivory Judgement.
Looking at the short list, Orren could only let out a helpless sigh.
He focused on the description of these memories and they popped up.
Memory: [Widow’s Thread].
Memory Rank: Ascended.
Memory Type: Tool.
Memory Description: [A spool of dark, shimmering silk thread obtained from a Fallen spider-like abomination.
Despite its delicate appearance, each strand possesses incredible strength, capable of resisting immense tension without snapping.
The thread is unnaturally smooth and sharp enough to cut exposed flesh when pulled with sufficient force.
It carries the strange resilience of the creature that produced it, refusing to fray even after repeated use.] Memory: [Wings of the Fallen Herald].
Memory Rank: Ascended.
Memory Type: Tool.
Memory Description: [A pair of enormous black wings formed from countless dark feathers, each one sharper than a blade.
When summoned, the wings emerge from the bearer’s back like a shadow given form, stretching wide enough to blot out the light around them.
The feathers appear almost lifeless, absorbing the light that touches them.
Yet beneath their dark surface lies a strange vitality, as if the wings still remember the skies they once ruled.
They were taken from a fallen abomination that once haunted the skies, a creature whose arrival was said to bring ruin from above.] Memory: [Ivory Judgement].
Memory Rank: Ascended.
Memory Type: Weapon.
Memory Description: [A sleek longsword forged from a material resembling polished ivory.
Its blade is impossibly smooth and gleams with a pale, almost ethereal radiance, as if it was carved from the remains of something ancient rather than crafted by mortal hands.
Despite its elegant appearance, the sword carries a chilling weight.
Faint patterns resembling bones run along the length of the blade, remnants of the Fallen creature from which it was born.
The weapon possesses no trace of decay or corruption.
Instead, it represents the strange purity that remained after a monstrous existence was finally brought to an end.] “We’re going under!
Hold your breath!” Nephis’ sharp command snapped Orren out of his thoughts.
He dismissed his runes and looked back at the battle unfolding between the two titans.
The leviathan’s countless tentacles had finally managed to slow the stone giant’s advance.
Wrapped around its enormous body, they pulled with tremendous force until the giant was forced to bend.
Slowly but inexorably, the giant’s neck disappeared beneath the surface of the Black Sea.
Everyone held their breath.
The world fell silent.
Several agonizing seconds later, the wandering colossus emerged once more.
This time, however, one of its stone hands was clutching an enormous skull.
The instant Orren’s eyes fell upon it, a stabbing pain exploded inside his head.
He immediately looked away.
Just looking at it hurts…
Then the stone giant raised its other arm.
A colossal hammer appeared above the sea, and as it was lifted toward the heavens, countless bolts of lightning gathered around its head.
The air crackled with terrifying power before the giant brought the hammer crashing down.
The skull shattered instantly.
A soul-piercing shriek echoed across the endless sea.
From the remains burst a tide of True Darkness that rushed toward the seven Sleepers standing atop the giant’s neck.
Fortunately, Sunny reacted first.
He alerted Nephis just in time.
Without hesitation, Nephis ignited brilliant white flames.
Blinding radiance erupted around the group, colliding with the wave of darkness and forcing it to retreat before it could engulf them.
Only after the darkness dispersed did everyone finally allow themselves to breathe.
……….
The journey continued.
With the battle over, the wandering giant resumed its silent march, giving the exhausted Sleepers precious time to recover.
Hours later, the giant abruptly came to a halt.
Everyone rose to their feet.
Ahead of them stretched the jagged peaks of the Hollow Mountains.
They had finally arrived.
Caster, Effie, and Nephis climbed carefully down the giant’s body, while Orren, Sunny, Kai, and Cassie descended through the air using their respective means.
After reaching solid ground, they found shelter among the rocky foothills and spent the night in the rare comfort of uninterrupted peace.
The following morning, they began searching for the vast pit Cassie had seen in her visions.
They found it surprisingly quickly.
Standing at its edge, however, they were greeted by the sight of a colossal Nightmare Creature lying motionless below.
Everyone instinctively tensed.
“It’s dead,” Orren said calmly.
Several heads turned toward him.
“How can you tell?” Caster asked.
Orren had already confirmed it using Stray.
During the six months he had spent wandering the Forgotten Shore alone, he had pushed his Aspect Ability to its limits and gradually uncovered how it truly functioned.
It possessed both a passive and an active state.
The passive effect never disappeared.
Even without conscious effort, it continuously fed him vague awareness of his surroundings; movement, changes in terrain, and the general positions of nearby objects.
The active effect was entirely different.
By consciously focusing, Orren could manipulate the radius of his metaphysical perception.
The larger the area he covered, the less detailed the information became.
Conversely, shrinking the radius dramatically increased its precision, allowing him to instinctively perceive far more intricate details.
Naturally, there was still a maximum range, though that limit steadily expanded alongside his strength.
Just now, he had condensed his perception into a small sphere centered on the gigantic corpse.
The instant it enveloped the creature, the answer came to him instinctively.
Dead.
Not sleeping.
Not hiding.
Simply dead.
“My Aspect Ability lets me instinctively understand my surroundings,” Orren explained.
“I checked it.” He left the explanation there.
Caster frowned thoughtfully but asked no further questions.
Some Aspect Abilities were simply too strange to fully explain, and Orren’s had already proven itself useful often enough that there was little reason to doubt him now.
Another reason Orren rarely relied on the active form of Stray was caution.
Unlike Sunny, who consciously chose where to look with his shadow, Orren had no such luxury.
Once he expanded his metaphysical domain, everything within it became available to his perception at once.
He couldn’t simply ignore one corner of the area while examining another.
Fortunately, the information did not flood into his mind all at once.
His consciousness instinctively sorted through it, allowing him to focus on whatever he wished to examine in greater detail.
Even so, the risk remained.
If something existed within his domain that should never be perceived, his Aspect would notice it before he had the chance to look away.
After the incident with the giant skull, Orren had no intention of testing where that limit lay.
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