Dawn arrived with the scent of steel and ash hanging thick in the air. The forges of Gehenna never truly cooled, and the distant rumble of industry was a constant reminder that war was always on the horizon.
Kalem adjusted the reins of his cart, his black gauntlets tightening around the worn leather straps. His companion, a sturdy bull draped in layered steel barding, snorted impatiently.
"Shall we?" Kalem murmured, patting the beast's armored neck before climbing onto the cart's seat.
The smithy behind him was still dimly lit from the embers of Briar's forge. He had said his goodbyes—short, practical, and without unnecessary sentiment.
Briar had only given him a look, one that said, You better come back in one piece. Garron, for all his usual bluntness, had simply nodded.
Now, he was on the road again.
The path leading toward the abyss was rugged and uneven, shaped by centuries of conflict and the slow, creeping corruption that seeped out from the depths. Deep scars in the earth, remnants of past battles, carved their way across the landscape. The closer one got to the rift, the more twisted the land became—rocks that bled, trees that pulsed with unnatural veins, and the distant echoes of things that should not exist.
Kalem had traveled this road before. Too many times.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
His orders had mentioned a unit waiting for him at the outskirts, a detachment he would be working alongside for the duration of the mission.
But before reaching the meeting point, someone was already waiting for him.
A lone figure stood by the side of the road, arms crossed, posture relaxed.
She was tall and lean, dressed in light, flexible armor designed for mobility. Two stilettos—thin, deadly blades—were strapped across her back. Her expression was one of amusement, a familiar smirk playing on her lips.
Kalem recognized her instantly.
"...It's you," he said flatly.
Serka chuckled. "Don't sound so excited."
Kalem exhaled through his nose. "Why would I?"
She feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. "And here I thought we bonded over hauling corpses together."
"That's a grim way to phrase it."
"Well, it's true." She stepped closer, studying him. "So. You're headed deeper in?"
Kalem nodded.
Serka grinned. "Then I guess we're working together again."
Kalem gave her a long look. "...You're part of the unit?"
She tapped the insignia on her shoulder. "Got reassigned after the last battle. Guess someone thought I'd be useful here."
Kalem didn't argue. Serka was fast, precise, and good with her weapons—a specialist in assassination and surgical strikes. If they were moving toward a high-risk zone, it made sense to have someone like her on board.
Still, he wasn't exactly thrilled.
Not because she was incompetent—far from it—but because she had an annoying tendency to poke at things she found interesting.
And right now? That thing was him.
Kalem didn't waste words. He simply gestured to the cart. "Get on."
Serka raised an eyebrow but complied, climbing up beside him.
The bull snorted, and with a slight flick of the reins, they set off again.
The further they traveled, the more the world around them began to shift.
The skies darkened, even though the sun still hung overhead. The wind carried whispers, faint and indecipherable. The very air felt thicker, saturated with the residual energy of countless battles fought against the abyss.
Serka watched the landscape pass by, her fingers idly drumming against her knee.
"So," she finally said, breaking the silence. "I heard you made a new weapon."
Kalem didn't look at her. "News spreads fast."
"Especially when it's something unusual."
"It's not that unusual by Gehenna's standards," Kalem corrected. "The Legions have access to weapons far more advanced than this."
"Maybe." She shot him a glance. "But most of them don't build their own, do they?"
Kalem didn't reply.
Serka smirked. "That's what makes you interesting."
Kalem sighed. "I hate when people say that."
"Because it usually means trouble?"
"Because it's never meant as a compliment."
Serka laughed. "Fair enough."
By midday, they reached the outskirts—a makeshift outpost built from stone and metal, its walls reinforced with runic barriers.
Several figures were already waiting.
A group of soldiers, their armor marked with the insignia of the 13th Abyssal Recon Unit, stood near the entrance.
A woman with short-cropped silver hair, clad in a reinforced combat uniform, stepped forward as Kalem and Serka dismounted.
"You're late," she said.
Kalem glanced at the sky. "Not really."
The woman folded her arms. "Close enough." Her gaze shifted to Serka. "And you're the knife they sent us?"
Serka grinned. "I prefer the term precision instrument, but sure."
The woman didn't seem amused. She turned her attention back to Kalem.
"You're the weaponsmith?"
Kalem nodded.
She exhaled through her nose. "I hope you live up to the rumors. Because if we run into another Bone Devil, I want something that actually kills it in one hit."
Kalem tilted his head. "That's what I'm here for."
The woman nodded. "Good. Then let's move out."
With that, the unit gathered their gear and prepared to move.
Kalem adjusted the whip at his side, feeling the weight of his new creation.
The path ahead led closer to the abyss, where the corruption was strongest.
Where monsters lurked in the shadows, waiting for the next battle.
Kalem exhaled slowly.
Another battlefield.
Another test.
And this time, he was more than ready.