Three days had passed since their arrival at the outpost, and the battlefield had become a sea of corpses, a grotesque mix of men and monsters, their bodies tangled in the aftermath of bloodshed. The stench of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating, even for those accustomed to the horrors of Gehenna.
Kalem stood at the edge of the battlefield, his boots slick with congealed blood, surveying the carnage before him.
"This is getting a bit out of hand," he muttered.
"Agreed," Garron replied, nudging one of the larger monster corpses with his foot.
Kalem crouched, inspecting the twisted remains of one of the creatures. Its flesh was ashen and coarse, its bones protruding at unnatural angles, a grotesque reminder that these things were born from corruption, not nature.
"By the way, do these things even have names, or is the Scholar's Guild just too lazy to catalog them?" Kalem asked, poking at the corpse's mangled jaw with the hilt of his dagger.
Garron let out a tired chuckle. "That hole over there"—he gestured toward the massive chasm in the distance, the Abyss itself—"spits out countless monsters every single day. The weak ones get pushed out here, but there's too much variety for anyone to keep track of. The scholars gave up centuries ago. Most of them just get called whatever kills them first."
Kalem snorted. "Efficient. If not a bit uninspired."
The duo turned away from the massacre, beginning their walk back toward the outpost. The fortress loomed in the distance, its walls reinforced with enchanted steel, standing as a lone sentinel against the endless tide of horrors.
Kalem adjusted his gear as they walked. "So, at what point do they start naming these things? I assume at some point, the monsters stop being random, right?"
Garron nodded. "Yeah, the further you go, the more consistent the creatures become. The real classifications start at the border of the Maw."
Kalem frowned. "And what's at the bottom?"
Garron came to an abrupt halt. He turned to Kalem, disbelief etched on his face. "...You don't know?"
Kalem shrugged. "I read about Gehenna from a document before coming here, but I didn't finish the whole thing."
"You didn't ask anyone?" Garron looked at him as if he had just admitted to not knowing how to breathe.
Kalem raised an eyebrow. "Why would I?"
Garron burst out laughing, clutching his ribs as he nearly doubled over. Kalem watched in irritation as the older warrior struggled to breathe, his amusement lasting far longer than necessary.
An entire hour passed before Garron finally composed himself.
Kalem, now thoroughly done with the topic, rolled his shoulders. "If you're finished, tell me about those who fight at the border of the Maw and inside the Maw itself."
Garron, still smirking, sheathed his sword and started walking again. "Alright, alright. You're finally asking about the big players."
Kalem listened as Garron began explaining the warriors who dared to step beyond the safety of Gehenna's fortified walls and into the true darkness of the Abyss.
The Warriors of the Maw
"First, you've got the Legion Elites," Garron began. "They're the official forces of Gehenna, the ones directly under the Warden Lords. Unlike regular soldiers, these guys are trained specifically to fight the horrors of the deeper Abyss. Their weapons are reinforced with forbidden enchantments, their armor forged from the rarest alloys. If you see a squad of them moving, you move aside."
Kalem nodded. "So they're the best of the best?"
"They're the most disciplined," Garron corrected. "But strength alone doesn't always cut it down there. Which is where the Battle Orders come in."
Kalem raised an eyebrow. "Battle Orders?"
"Think of them as semi-independent warbands," Garron explained. "They follow Gehenna's laws, but they aren't bound by the Legion's command structure. Some of them have been around for centuries, their techniques passed down through generations. They specialize in things the Legion can't—tracking, assassination, experimental magic, or fighting specific types of creatures."
Kalem tapped his chin. "So, more flexible but still organized?"
"Exactly. They're well-respected, but they also have leeway that the Legion doesn't. They take on missions that would get normal soldiers killed. And then…" Garron's voice trailed off.
Kalem's eyes narrowed. "Then?"
Garron hesitated before speaking. "Then you have the Desperados."
The air seemed to grow heavier at the mention of the word. Even Onyx let out a deep snort, shifting uneasily.
Kalem crossed his arms. "Sounds dramatic."
"It is dramatic," Garron muttered. "Because these guys are the ones who walk alone. No official backing, no reinforcements. Just themselves and their weapons. Some used to be Legion. Some used to be part of Battle Orders. Others are just… insane."
Kalem remained silent, absorbing the information.
"They're the ones who go deeper than anyone else," Garron continued. "Some of them have enhancements—either through dangerous magic, alchemical augmentation, or sheer force of will. They're the most decorated warriors in Gehenna. But they're also the ones closest to death."
Kalem looked out toward the Abyss, its endless darkness swallowing the horizon.
"Sounds lonely," he murmured.
Garron chuckled. "That's an understatement. The deeper you go, the more you change. Some don't even come back as people anymore."
Kalem exhaled slowly. "And you? Ever thought about becoming one of them?"
Garron's expression darkened. "...I've thought about it. Once."
A long silence stretched between them. Kalem didn't push further.
The outpost came into view again, its torches flickering against the evening sky. The conversation faded as the two warriors walked the final stretch in silence, their minds lingering on the truths of the Abyss—and the monsters, both human and otherwise, that lurked within it.