Danmachi: Echoes of a Vampire God

New auxiliary chapters take a look, author out.

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The path out of the village was silent.

Ray led them through one of the rear tunnels, covered in denser roots and dim fungi. The routes the Xenos used were not the same as those traveled by adventurers. They were narrower, more winding, sometimes barely distinguishable from the environment itself. As if only those who belonged to the Dungeon were worthy of finding them.

No one said a word. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was cautious. They knew that speaking aloud in certain passages could attract things they preferred to avoid.

Kael walked with his senses on high alert, his perception focused on any change in the flow of air, on distant noises… on echoes that didn't match the environment.

Ranye walked behind him, her spider-like body moving effortlessly. She wore the black armor Kael had seen before, the one that had rested in her cave like a relic. Now, it made her look like a living shadow, a perfect predator. Her helmet covered her entire face, leaving only two glowing red points as eyes, which made her all the more unsettling… and fascinating.

After several minutes, Ray raised a hand to signal them to stop.

They had arrived.

A clearing among open roots stretched before them. The lunar grass glowed with a soft light, its bluish-purple shimmer rippling gently as if it were breathing. It was exactly what they needed.

But they weren't alone.

Four adventurers were resting in a circle beside a small improvised campfire. Two were sleeping with their backs against the wall. One was sharpening his sword in silence, and another was staring at the ceiling with a bored look.

Ray frowned. But before she could speak, Ranye stepped forward.

"We can do it fast. Knock them out before they notice anything." —Her voice was barely a whisper from inside her helmet.

Kael nodded.

"I can distract the ones who are awake."

They looked at each other, a silent agreement, then... they moved.

Kael slipped toward the group's left flank. He extended one of his hands. A mass of liquid blood slithered along the ground, clinging to the walls like thick smoke. With a gesture, he raised it —a fleeting blood wall momentarily obscured the vision of the awake adventurers. In that moment, he used another blood projection —a thin, fast projectile shot through the air, striking one of the adventurer's swords just as he tried to stand.

Ranye jumped at that moment.

She lunged with inhuman speed, her legs striking the necks of the two alert adventurers with precision. Her movements were swift and accurate. The other two barely had time to open their eyes before she struck them as well. None of them even had the chance to scream. None had time to react or see anything.

Kael used a blood chain to immobilize one who was still squirming. But with a quick strike, he knocked him out, hitting the same spot Ranye always aimed for.

In less than twenty seconds, it was over.

Ranye moved gracefully among the bodies. She produced a generous amount of silk, and within seconds, the adventurers were hanging upside down from the roots in the ceiling, precisely wrapped.

"This way, the monsters won't find them." —she said as she adjusted the last knot.

Ray was already gathering the lunar grass with her wings, surprisingly doing it perfectly. Her expression was serious, but Kael noticed a faint smile at the edge of her lips.

"Good work." —he said, approaching Ranye.

She nodded. Her voice, muffled by the helmet, still sounded more animated than usual.

"I'm good at this kind of thing."

Kael watched her for a moment. There was a small change in her body language. Something less rigid. Something almost… cheerful. But he decided to ignore it.

After collecting the rest of the grass, they made sure to leave no trace, and began the journey back to the village.

**

The way back was more relaxed. The tension of the operation had passed, and the silence that was once caution now felt like a shared habit. Comfortable. Natural.

It was Ranye who broke the quiet.

"Your magic… it's very different from the ones I've seen. I've never seen anyone manipulate blood like that..."

Kael shrugged slightly, with genuine modesty.

"I still don't fully understand how it works. It's like… an extension of me. Something that comes from deep inside. But sometimes, I also feel like it has a will of its own." —He paused, as if weighing his words— "But I can control it... To a certain extent."

"I think you do it very well." —she said, with a frankness that took him by surprise.

Kael blinked. The compliment caught him a bit off guard. He didn't quite know how to respond, so he shifted focus with a sincere question—

—"And you? Even with that armor… the way you moved was impressive. It didn't look like you were wearing anything at all."

Ranye stayed silent for a few seconds before answering.

"I made it myself. From what I found among the remains of the adventurers who died in the Dungeon. It wasn't easy at first… but after a while, it became almost a part of me. Like my silk."—She stopped for a moment, as if unsure whether to reveal more— "It's not magical, but it has something… peculiar. With it, I can feel things. Fear, mostly. It vibrates differently if someone is tense, if they lie… if they're scared."

Kael glanced at her from the side, genuinely intrigued.

"So… while your silk is touching someone, you can tell if they're lying?"

"Yes." —she nodded— "It's not infallible, it depends on the person… but most of the time, it works."

"That's… incredible." —he murmured, almost in awe.

Ranye slightly turned her head toward him, as if looking at him through the helmet. There was no way to see her face… but Kael felt it.

A smile.

Small. Sincere. Quiet, like her. But real.

And then, for a while, they walked without saying anything else. The silence returned, but it wasn't like before. It was no longer a barrier of caution. Nor a sign of distance.

Now it was a bridge.

A silent bond… that didn't need words.

**

Upon returning to the village, the atmosphere felt calmer than before, as if what had happened earlier was nothing more than a forgotten memory. The roots shimmered softly with their yellow light, and the humid air felt lighter. The day's work was nearly done.

Ranye was the first to step away.

Without saying a word, she veered off toward one of the side tunnels, moving with her silent, elegant gait. Her dark figure, still wrapped in the black armor, disappeared among the natural arches formed by thick roots, as if the Dungeon itself had swallowed her.

Kael didn't try to stop her.

Ray left soon after, carrying the sack of moon grass they had gathered. Her wings folded softly as she entered one of the storage chambers. She didn't say anything either. She just gave him a brief look… but there was something in it. A quiet curiosity. As if she were waiting for Kael to stop her.

And he did.

"Ray." —he called out, his voice firm but calm.

She turned, blinking slightly.

"Yes?"

Kael took a step toward her. He didn't hesitate anymore. Not after everything he'd been through.

"I need to speak with all of you… with the leaders. There's something I need to tell you. It's… important."

Ray looked at him for a moment. Her expression grew more serious, more focused. As if searching his face for a clue of what he was about to say. But then she nodded without asking anything.

"Understood. Give me a moment. I'll go find them."

Kael nodded silently. He stood there, watching the silhouette of the Siren disappear between the roots illuminated by yellow bioluminescence. Left alone, he took a deep breath and looked up at the natural vaults curving above him like a sky of living stone. He knew that what he was about to say… could change many things.

But he also knew it had to be said.

He didn't have to wait long.

Ray came at the front, her steps swift but steady. Behind her walked Lyd and Gros, both with solemn expressions etched into their faces. There was something heavy in their posture, a dense energy, as if they already knew the weight of what was about to be discussed. They didn't walk out of habit, but out of duty. Out of respect.

And, a step behind, silent as always —Ranye.

Still clad in her black armor. Still hiding her face beneath that smooth, closed helmet. But her presence was unmistakable. There was a subtle tension in her posture. She didn't seem uncomfortable… but not at ease either. As if, beneath all that metal, her thoughts were a tangled web.

Kael felt her gaze, even if he couldn't see it.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

Ray stopped in front of him. She held his gaze for a brief moment, with that mix of professionalism and warmth that defined her. Then she spoke, her voice calm, but direct.

"Come. This isn't a good place to talk about important matters."

And without waiting for an answer, she turned and led them toward a secluded area of the village. They entered one of the side corridors, where the roots grew thicker, wrapping around the path as if protecting ancient secrets. After a few minutes of silent walking, they arrived at a small cavern closed off by a tangle of vines. Lyd pulled them aside with one hand, and they entered one by one.

The cave was dim. At its center —a natural circle of smooth rock, without decoration, without fire, lit only by pale moss veins hanging from the ceiling, casting a faint, almost reverent glow over the place.

The four Xeno leaders settled in without a word. Ranye remained standing, against one of the walls, silent. Like a sentinel at her post.

They all looked at him, waiting for him to speak. Kael took a deep breath.

It was now or never.

"I want to tell you about someone." —he said plainly— "A Xenos I met. A Mermaid."

Ray slightly raised an eyebrow, her expression wavering between surprise and curiosity.

"Another… like us?"

The question was valid. Justified. Although the village housed dozens of Xenos, the birth of a new one was practically impossible. One in a billion, perhaps more. And not only that—the amount of time that needed to pass for one to be born in the Dungeon was so vast, so immeasurable, that even after countless millennia, the known Xenos —alive or dead— barely amounted to a little over a hundred.

The exact nature of their birth had never been revealed. Even Kael, with all the knowledge he possessed about this world, couldn't say for certain how Xenos came to be. Not even the main story had taken the time to explain it.

The only thing known —the only thing Kael could assume with some degree of certainty— was that Xenos were born exceptionally —monsters who, after dying countless times in the Dungeon's cycle of rebirth, eventually developed a deep desire. An intense longing. A yearning so powerful that it seemed to soak into their "soul" and transform it.

And then… a Xenos was born.

It was a phenomenon that defied all logic. Not even the Dungeon itself —with all its twisted awareness— seemed to fully understand it. But there was a truth Kael couldn't ignore.

A simple, harsh, inescapable truth— The Xenos who lived in this village… were practically all that existed in the world.

"Can you tell us more about her?" —asked Lyd. His voice was low, but there was a spark of excitement in it. Genuine emotion at the chance of discovering another one of their kind.

"Yes…" —Kael nodded, his eyes briefly lowering to the ground— "Her name is Marie. I met her after she saved me… when I was gravely wounded from fighting Dix."

His body tensed at the mention of the name. It was just a shiver, a ghost of an unhealed wound. But he didn't stop.

"She took care of me. Gave me a place to recover… when I had nothing. When I thought everything was over. She lives alone, in a hidden cave in a corner of the 27th floor."

Lyd furrowed his brow slightly, but not from suspicion —from understanding. There was empathy on his face. Recognition.

Ray stepped forward. Her voice was softer this time, as if her tone matched the delicacy of the memory Kael had just shared.

"And what is she like?"

Kael breathed slowly. The memories washed over him like a warm, faintly salty wave. And his response came in a contained tone, but full of certainty.

"She's kind. Incredibly kind. Innocent… but not weak. She protected me. Risked everything for someone she had just met. And I don't want to… I can't leave her down there alone. I thought maybe… if it's possible… I could bring her here."

Ray crossed her arms, thoughtful. Her gaze dropped for an instant. But the decision had already taken shape in her eyes before her lips voiced it.

"We'll go for her. We'll form a group, carefully. And if she's as you say… then we'll welcome her with open arms."

Kael blinked, surprised. A part of him, the part that had lived constantly on the run since he awoke in this world, wasn't used to such an immediate response. So human.

"Are you serious?"

Ray smiled. And although it was a small smile, it carried a warmth that melted defenses.

"Of course. She's one of us, isn't she?" —she said— "We can build a channel between the roots, a waterway so she can move freely. And… there's a nearby cave full of underground water. We could adapt it, turn it into a refuge just for her."

The surprise quickly turned into something deeper —gratitude. An unexpected warmth bloomed in Kael's chest. For a moment, the tension in his expression vanished… and he smiled. Openly. Genuinely.

Ray noticed the change. And though she tried to keep her composure, her cheeks flushed with a slight blush. She lowered her gaze quickly… but the blush didn't fade. It lingered there, trembling in the silence.

Lyd, in a calm voice, resumed the conversation.

"This Mermaid… is she important to you?"

"Very." —Kael replied without hesitation.

Ranye remained in the same spot. Motionless. Her face hidden beneath the helmet. But Kael noticed a slight tremble in her fingers. Barely perceptible. Like a dissonant note in a silent symphony.

Then, before he could begin to think about the reason behind that small gesture, Lyd's voice changed. His tone, until now warm and calm, grew deeper. More direct. Heavier.

"Kael… a moment ago you said she saved you… after fighting Dix, right? So tell me… what happened to him? Is he still alive?"

The question slid through the air like a sharp blade.

Ray immediately tensed. Gros furrowed his brow. Even Ranye turned her head slightly toward him —the only clear gesture she had made since entering the cave.

Kael lowered his gaze. He felt his throat tighten. A moment. Two. And then… he said it.

"He's dead. I killed him."

It wasn't a shout. Nor a dramatic confession. Just a pair of bare words, heavy with sorrow... and a faint, almost imperceptible, regret.

Silence fell immediately. Dense. Total. Lyd was the one to break it.

He stepped forward in small strides. His walk was firm, but not aggressive. When he reached Kael, he extended a hand and gently placed it on his shoulder. There was no judgment in his gesture. No reproach. Just silent acceptance.

"You did what you had to do."

Kael looked up. Met Lyd's eyes. In them he saw no judgment. No distance. Only understanding.

"Not out of hatred… but for justice." —the Lizardman continued, in a grave voice— "Dix was cruel. Not just to us. To anyone who couldn't defend themselves. He tortured. Hunted. Killed. He delighted in the suffering of others. He left nothing behind… except fear and death."

Ray lowered her head. Her lips pressed tightly. Her gaze trembled, as if remembering an image too painful to bear.

"Many died because of him." —she murmured— "And others… still wake up screaming in the middle of the night."

Lyd nodded, without looking away from Kael.

"Dix was more than an enemy. He was an open wound. A cancer that spread through our lives and memories. He wasn't a man. He was an executioner. One who believed he had the right to decide who deserved to live… and who deserved to suffer."

His words were harsh, but not cruel. They were the truth spoken with solemn gravity. Like a sentence that had long been written.

Kael lowered his gaze. Closed his eyes. And nodded.

The knot he had carried in his chest since that day loosened. It didn't fully unravel, but the weight became a little easier to bear.

"Thank you..." —he whispered. It was all he could say. But it was enough.

Then Gros —who had been silent all this time, arms crossed and staring at the wall like a statue— turned abruptly. He spun around and began walking toward the cave's exit. His footsteps echoed firmly against the stone floor.

But just before crossing the threshold… he stopped.

"Come with me, kid." —he said without turning around— "There's something I want to show you."

His voice was the same as always. Gruff. Deep. But there was something more. A different note. Barely audible. But for Kael, it was clear —It was respect. The kind of respect a warrior does not give easily.

Kael watched him for a few seconds. Then, without saying anything, he followed.

As he crossed the cave, he noticed that Ranye still hadn't moved. She remained where she was. Silent. Still. Her helmet still covering her face.

But Kael felt it.

Her gaze. Behind that opaque helm, something was boiling. It wasn't rage. It wasn't fear. It was a strange mixture. Of desire and doubt. As if she wanted to say something. As if she needed to… and couldn't voice it.

Kael didn't stop. He didn't look back. But he felt it. And, somehow, he understood.

The path was brief, but the silence made it feel longer than it really was.

Gros didn't utter a single word during the walk. But there was no tension in his stride, nor hostility. His heavy, steady steps conveyed something different —reflection. As if each stride was part of a decision still being formed inside him. As if his very presence was already a form of acceptance.

Kael followed him without rushing. Without speaking.

They descended a path covered in thick roots, where the moss light faded into a ghostly glow. The walls, rough and alive, closed in around them as if the heart of the village were sealing behind them. They finally arrived at one of the most secluded areas of the refuge. A forgotten corner… or one carefully preserved.

There, among natural pillars covered in ancient moss and dry leaves, Gros pulled aside a vine and revealed a hidden opening. They passed through.

The room on the other side was small, damp. Semi-buried. Its ceiling curved like the shell of a fossilized creature, and the air felt denser… but not oppressive. It was a place made to stay out of sight. To keep something important.

In the center, atop a moss-covered stone, rested an object. Gros approached, took it with a firm hand, and turned toward Kael. In his palm lay a small orb.

Red. Opaque like dried blood. The size of a crystal ball. Carved with fine lines that intertwined in spirals, forming the outline of an eye.

Kael recognized it immediately. The memory hit like an awakened echo. But he didn't have time to speak.

"Is that…?" —he murmured.

"A key. To Dix's artificial Dungeon." —Gros replied with the same bluntness he wielded his claw in battle.

And he held it out.

Kael hesitated for a moment. Not out of distrust, but because of what that gesture meant. Still, he extended his hand and accepted it.

The orb was cold. Colder than he expected. And heavier. As if something more than magic resided inside… something ancient.

"We took it from one of Dix's subordinates." —Gros added— "According to Ranye, it was the one who fought you before you fell into the trap. He had it on him. And after rescuing our people, we didn't know what to do with it. We didn't need it. But you…"

He paused.

"You might put it to good use."

Kael kept his gaze fixed on the orb. He felt it pulsing faintly. Like a sleeping heart.

"With this… I'll be able to move freely through the dungeon floors."

"Yes." —Gros nodded, crossing his arms— "I don't know how deep it goes, but I can tell you this —it's connected from this floor to the upper ones. And maybe even reaches the surface. Dix used it to move like a ghost. To attack unseen. To disappear."

His tone darkened.

"For us… that place was a prison. A hell. We were used as trophies. Locked up. Broken. Many died there. Others… were never the same again. That's why no one wants to approach those doors. But you…"

Gros' voice softened slightly, though it retained its strength.

"You can cross them."

Kael looked up. His eyes showed no doubt. Only silent clarity. He understood what that gesture meant.

"There's an entrance on this floor." —Gros continued— "At the far end of the village. We left it unsealed. We rarely go near it. But it's still there. You can use it if you decide to explore what's left of that place."

He turned slightly, letting his silhouette stand out against the moss's dim light.

"If you go, go alone. We don't know if any of Dix's men remain. We don't know if more keys like this exist. We don't know if control rods still survive… and I won't risk anyone else. But if it's empty… you'll be able to move between floors without facing the dungeon's hell at every step. You could even take the unconscious adventurer with you and reach the surface undetected."

Kael lowered his gaze to the orb again. And for a moment, his thoughts wandered.

The surface. The possibility of taking Naaza out without harming her, without forcing their way through the hostility of the dungeon… without drawing attention.

"Why are you helping me?" —he asked, with a tone sincere, almost incredulous.

Gros remained silent for several seconds. His expression remained hard, impenetrable. But in his eyes… there was something else. A different gleam.

"I don't know." —he admitted. Bluntly. Without embellishment— "Maybe because today, for the first time in a long time… I felt like things might change. That maybe… not everything is lost for us. That someday, those below and those above will be able to look each other in the eye without fear. And you…"

His voice dropped. But did not lose strength.

"You could be the bridge."

Then, Gros extended his hand.

Kael looked at it. Not with distrust. But with respect. And without thinking too much… he shook it.

The grip was strong. Honest. Like a silent agreement, more powerful than any promise. No words were needed. It wasn't just respect Gros was offering.

It was something more valuable.

Trust.

Friendship.

**

The handshake with Gros still pulsed on Kael's skin as he began to walk away from the heart of the village. The air of the 20th floor brushed against his face like an underground breeze laced with sap, stone, and something deeper… as if the Dungeon itself whispered through its roots.

Behind him, he could still feel the warmth of earned respect. Of trust given without condition. Of an unexpected alliance… but a firm one.

And then, he saw her.

Ranye was waiting, standing beside one of the natural entrances formed by intertwined roots. She still wore her helmet, the one that covered her entire face, turning her into a mute and indecipherable silhouette. But Kael… Kael understood her the moment she took a step toward him.

She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The way she tilted her head slightly. The subtle shift in her posture… it was enough.

Kael stopped a few meters away. He didn't look at her directly. His voice, when it came, was soft. But resolute.

"I want to do this on my own."

For a moment, Ranye didn't move. It was as if her muscles tensed, as if something inside her struggled to break through. Then, slowly, she lowered her head. A silent acceptance. No protest. No reproach. Just… resignation. Like someone who wants to say more but holds back. Like someone who understands, but doesn't want to accept it.

Kael thought he saw a slight twitch of her lips beneath the helmet, as if she bit them out of frustration. But he didn't press. He only nodded.

And he left.

His footsteps echoed as he walked away. He knew time was short. The dim glow of the moss was already beginning to fade… and the underground night did not forgive distraction.

He crossed to the far side of the 20th floor with silent steps. He took little-used paths, secondary tunnels and corridors hidden behind curtains of translucent roots that hung like vegetal veils. The deeper he went, the denser the air became, as if the Dungeon itself wanted to ask him where he was going… and why.

Kael didn't answer.

He moved like a shadow. His breath steady. His gaze sharp.

He avoided a couple of wandering monsters with ease—misshapen creatures of stone and bone that didn't even sense his presence. Further ahead, he skirted a subterranean stream where a trio of adventurers rested unsuspectingly. He passed by them without so much as the whisper of his cloak or the faint crunch of a root to betray him.

The Dungeon knew him. And he knew its paths.

After a dozen minutes… he found it. A cracked stone wall, covered in roots that acted as a natural curtain. And behind it… a door. Ancient. Familiar.

Metallic, adorned with curved lines that looked like sleeping red veins. The frame bore the same inscriptions as the door he had once fallen through. The same one Dix had meticulously prepared to trap him. The same one he had crossed when he first entered the Knossos—when everything twisted. When everything changed.

Kael stopped in front of it. He took a deep breath.

And, without hesitation, raised the orb Gros had entrusted to him. The sphere glowed faintly, with that internal light that didn't seem magical… but biological. As if the orb itself were breathing.

A soft click. A metallic murmur. The door opened with the heavy sigh of ancient air. And Kael… stepped through the threshold. Knossos greeted him with its frozen breath.

It wasn't like the living, organic Dungeon he had walked before. There were no pulsing roots or moss breathing light. No whispers of life in the walls or echoes of a natural world beating beneath the earth.

What was felt here… was different.

A distinct consciousness. Artificial. Cold. Not natural… but not entirely dead either. As if the place hung suspended between the memory of a mind and the echo of a forgotten purpose.

Kael sensed it with the first step.

The air was drier, heavier. Every corner seemed to hold a murmur that didn't form words. As if the very walls were watching him. Not with eyes… but with a mechanical memory, impersonal. A network of corridors that didn't recognize him as an intruder, but as a data point. A marked presence.

Knossos knew he was there. And though it didn't beat like the Dungeon… it breathed in another way.

But Kael didn't hesitate. Not after everything he had lived through. Not after making it this far.

He crossed the threshold without looking back.

And seconds after his footsteps vanished into the artificial labyrinth, the door closed behind him with a whisper of metal and stone.

It wasn't a threat. It was a silent agreement.

Once inside… there was no turning back.

**

The corridors of Knossos stretched like dead veins beneath the earth, serpentining into a dark network that seemed endless. The air was cold, laden with an unnatural stillness, as if time had become stagnant within its walls. The floor, carved with impossible patterns —spirals, intersecting lines, arcane symbols without translation— seemed to whisper ancient secrets with each step Kael took.

Most of the doors were open, like scars that no longer hurt... but also did not heal. Others, however, remained closed. As if they still guarded a purpose that had not been forgotten. As if Knossos still waited.

After exploring several corridors and staircases, Kael arrived at the site where he had fought against Dix.

He paused. The air changed. It was denser. More electric.

Fragments of that energy—his energy—still lingered in the atmosphere. An invisible imprint that vibrated like an echo trapped between the walls. His fury. His desperation. His fear. All of it remained, like a specter of emotions carved into stone.

Kael closed his eyes for a second. Not out of weakness, but out of respect for what had occurred. Then, he opened them and continued forward.

He reached the area where the collapsed cages lay, with broken bars and cracked floor. There... where he, Let, Fear, Cliff, and the other Xenos had been trapped. The place was a mess—remnants of chains, claw marks on the walls, overturned furniture, pools of stagnant water. Everything was disturbed, as if something—or someone—had searched through the remains hastily.

He found nothing. Only the echo of helplessness.

He moved on. He explored side chambers, ancient surveillance rooms, material storage areas. Chaos was common in all of them. As if a storm had swept through everything. As if someone had taken every last piece of information that could be found. Or wanted to erase it. He wasn't sure.

But then... he felt it.

A different presence. Not energy. Not magic. But something deeper. More hidden. And in that moment, he saw it. A different door. Taller. Thicker. Older. And, above all, closed.

Kael stood in front of it. He felt a faint pressure in his chest. It wasn't magic. It wasn't fear. It was... something more. A premonition that spoke without words.

He raised the orb. The sphere glowed with a crimson light, vibrating softly in his palm. Instantly, a hidden mechanism activated. A dull click was heard. Hidden gears began to turn, and a low hum crept along the walls like a whisper of metal awakening.

The door opened. Slowly. As if something on the other side awoke with it.

It revealed a long, wide corridor. Wider than any he had traversed before. And wrapped in a dense, total darkness.

But not for Kael.

His eyes, honed by something more than instinct, saw through the dimness. For him, it was like walking under the midday sun. Clear. Precise. Every shape was outlined with sharpness.

He took a step. Then another.

Colossal pillars rose on both sides, decorated with runes and symbols that pulsed with faint, ancient energy. Forgotten languages, dialects buried by the centuries. Some were simple, others so elaborate they seemed almost organic. As if the stone itself had memorized the delusions of its creator.

With each step, the echo of his boots resonated like a distant heartbeat. Slow. Constant.

And he felt it. A presence. Now stronger than ever.

Not something he could see or hear... but it was there. Motionless. Watching him from all angles at once. As if Knossos itself—although not alive—recognized him. As if it knew that someone foreign to its original design walked through its spine.

But he did not hesitate. At the end of the corridor, another door. And not just any door.

The largest he had seen so far. Even more imposing than the previous one. And definitely older. Its surface was carved with a precision that bordered on the obsessive. Spirals. Circuits. Magic seals. Encoded instructions. Every inch spoke of an obsession that teetered on madness. As if each line had a purpose. A limit. A warning.

It was closed. Sealed completely.

Kael raised the orb again. The sphere glowed. Just like before. But the door... did not open. Not a single gear moved. No light turned on. He frowned. Waited. Repeated the gesture. Nothing.

He took a step back. Studied it carefully.

It wasn't a common door. It wasn't like the others. Something behind it demanded more. He felt it. In his breath. In the way the hair on his neck stood up. In the way the silence weighed more than the air—it wasn't just any feeling. There was something important on the other side. Something vital. As if that door didn't protect a corridor... but a core. A hidden heart.

He closed his eyes. Searched every corner of his memory. Everything he knew about Knossos. About Dix. About Daedalus. About the curse that bound his lineage to an endless work. And then... a spark.

A detail. A buried truth.

Dix—the only one who could move through Knossos without restrictions. The direct heir of the legendary great architect, Daedalus. A descendant who despised the blood that flowed through his veins. Who hated the curse imposed by his ancestor to continue building his masterpiece to madness.

But... Dix wasn't the only one. There was another before him.

Barca Perdix.

His half-brother. Born of the same mother. Bearer of the same curse. But different from him in every other way. Where Dix saw a condemnation, Barca saw a purpose.

He accepted the curse of continuing to build the artificial Dungueon not as a prison, but as a legacy. He wanted to complete Knossos, yes. But not to use it as a weapon, nor to control, nor to destroy. No, what Barca wanted to achieve was different; he wanted Knossos to surpass the original Dungueon. To turn that impossible network of tunnels into an eternal work. A monument to ingenuity. To obsession. To human will to achieve what they set out to do.

And that... was his greatest mistake.

Because Dix did not tolerate dreamers. When Barca refused to let Evilus turn Knossos into his base of operations, when he opposed the use of Daedalus' legacy as a tool of death...

Dix betrayed him.

He murdered him with coldness. And not content with just ending his life. He desecrated his body. Tore out his eyes. And with them... crafted two artifacts. Two relics carved with precision and forgotten runes. Created to allow others to control every corner of the artificial Dungueon.

Two orbs. Two keys. Two Daedalus Orbs.

One was the one Kael now held—always used by Dix's subordinates as an almost universal pass to traverse the secret corridors of Knossos without fear, without limits.

But the other... Always remained an enigma. Its existence barely mentioned. No one ever knew what Dix did with it. It was like a secret buried deep in the history of this world.

Its location was never confirmed... it was a mystery. Always was.

Until now.

A sound tore through the silence. Light. Precise. Like the rustle of a dry leaf stepped on with intention. Kael turned immediately, his body tensing like a spring ready to explode.

And then he saw it.

Emerging between the pillars as if the place belonged to him, with an arrogant and measured calm, a figure appeared. A man of average height. Dark skin. Dark blue hair, long and disheveled with the deliberation of someone who chooses chaos as a crown. Eyes of the same tone, glowing with an intense darkness, charged with an emotion that was not human.

He was dressed completely in black. Light, almost casual clothing, but that clung to his body as if defying the rules of the place.

But it wasn't his appearance that froze the blood. It was his aura.

Divine.

It wasn't like that of a powerful adventurer, nor like that of an ancient mage. No. This was something else. An ancient energy, impossible to imitate. Something that did not belong to this plane. A force that could not be invoked, only carried. A presence that warped the air around it.

He was a god.

Kael knew it instantly.

'Ikelos...' —he thought, the name falling into his mind like a hot hammer.

The god of darkness, of distorted dreams and nightmares. The silent puppeteer behind many events in the original history. The one who had been by Dix's side when he fell into his trap. The one who never spoke... but watched everything.

And now, he was there. In front of him.

Ikelos smiled. A slow, drawn-out, perfectly calculated smile. As if he had arrived at his own party... and found everything exactly as he had imagined.

"You took your time, didn't you?" —he said in a soft, almost velvety voice, but sharp as the edge of a razor— "I almost thought you would never return. I was considering sending the few children I have left to find you... but you saved me the effort. Right, Kael?"

Kael froze. His skin prickled. It wasn't just the voice, or the familiarity with which he spoke to him. It was the word he said at the end.

His name.

A name he had never revealed in front of him.

'How...?'

And in that instant, everything clicked. The ambush. The looks. The absurd knowledge that Dix's subordinates had about his abilities from the first day. The way they cornered him without failing.

Ikelos. Even with his Arcanum sealed, he still retained one of his gifts. One that made him exceptionally dangerous —His magical mirror.

A divine artifact capable of spying on any mortal anywhere in the world. It wasn't as perfect as Freya's, but just as stealthy. A permanent window into other people's lives. A hidden eye.

He had been watching him from the beginning. Even before he knew he was being pursued. Kael clenched his fists. His thoughts raced, but his expression remained firm.

'Since when have you been watching me? Since I woke up? Since I said my name in front of Let and the others...?'

And then... another piece clicked.

'He shouldn't have been able to follow me when I fell into the deep tunnels of Knossos. The labyrinth that Daedalus built is immune to most divine abilities. That's why I had disappeared from his radar until now.'

Ikelos took another step towards him. His smile widened. It seemed as if he could smell the direction of his thoughts. As if seeing the puzzle come together in front of him delighted him.

"You're more perceptive than you appear... " —he said softly, almost as a conspiratorial whisper of an old friend— "Although it doesn't surprise me. From the moment you appeared, I knew there was something special about you."

His voice was soft, as if he were speaking of a rare jewel he had found by accident. But beneath that tone, a dangerous certainty vibrated.

"Well." —he continued with a casual air, pacing as if the corridor belonged to him— "Since you're here, let's talk properly. I am Ikelos. A god. And you..."

"Stop playing." —Kael's voice cut him off with precision, as sharp as a drawn blade— "What the hell do you want?"

Ikelos laughed. A soft, almost childish laugh that bounced off the walls as if Knossos itself shared the mockery. But as that laughter faded... his tone changed. It lowered. Became deeper. Clearer. Truer.

"I want you to join my family."

The proposal fell like a stone in water —Kael did not respond— The silence became denser. Harsher. It was the kind of silence that only forms when someone is making a decision that will mark history.

The tension in the air became almost tangible.

Ikelos continued.

"Maybe you don't know yet," —he said, with a didactic voice, as if instructing a child— "but in this world, there is something called Falna. It is a blessing. A gift. That we, the gods, bestow upon those we deem worthy. It breaks your limits. Opens your talents. Transforms you into what you could be. A new body. A new mind. A new life."

He took a step closer.

"And you... are special. Something never seen before in this mortal plane. If you swear loyalty to me, Kael... everything you dream of can be yours. Money. Power. Immortality. Women. Glory. Knowledge. Everything. You won't have to search. Only choose."

Kael lowered his head. His hair darkened his face. He did not move. Ikelos extended a hand, as if offering the key to an invisible realm.

"What do you say?"

Kael raised his gaze. His eyes did not waver. Did not tremble. They were like steel, firm as a sentence.

"I refuse."

Ikelos' smile wavered for the first time, as if something invisible pulled at his face.

The silence became even denser, as if even Knossos held its breath, waiting for the god's reaction. Ikelos clenched his jaw, an imperceptible tic appeared on his brow. He wanted to disguise, pretend that this did not affect him. But the shadow of anger had already seeped into his gaze.

"Tch..."

But before he could insist, Kael lifted his head completely. It was not a dramatic or arrogant gesture, but calm, deliberate, charged with something deeper —confidence. His voice did not surge with hatred or rage, but with a cutting certainty, as if each word weighed tons.

"I won."

They were only two words. Two syllables that, in any other context, would sound ridiculous or confusing. For most, it would have provoked a laugh or a puzzled look. Any other god, any other mortal, even a wise or old one, would have frowned. Would have been confused by what they had just heard. They would have asked —"Won what? What are you talking about? Are you an idiot?"

But not for Ikelos. He understood them. Because in the deepest part of his mind —that part that never jokes, that always calculates, that always observes from the darkness the "board"— he understood exactly what Kael meant.

Until that moment, Ikelos was convinced that he had everything under control. For him, Kael was an anomaly, yes, but a newly born creature, a consciousness without history, without roots, without past.

Intelligent, yes, even brilliant... but inexperienced. A blank slate easy to bend. Easy to take. Easy to mold. From the moment he saw him enter through that door on the 20th floor, Ikelos already swore that he had him in the palm of his hand.

And that... was his mistake.

Kael took a step forward, without raising his voice.

"Dix is dead. His hunt ended. The Xenos are safe. Your work... failed. Your son fell. And you, Ikelos... you lost."

For an instant, only one, the god's mask cracked. His eyes, once mocking, blinked. Opened a fraction more than necessary. The subtle gesture of someone who did not expect the board to change so quickly.

But Kael saw it. And that was enough for him.

"Don't come looking for me again. Don't watch me anymore. Don't send your men, don't move your strings... neither directly, nor indirectly. Don't get in my way in any way."

He did not stop. He did not hesitate.

"Your promises... your dreams of power and dominion... don't interest me. Your Falna, your gifts, your illusions disguised as hope... are worth nothing to me. I don't want to be part of your theater. I'm not a puppet for you to entertain while the world burns."

And then, he sharpened his tone even more. He straightened up. Tall. Firm. His shadow projected by the faint magical light of the runes on the door seemed longer. Denser.

"I don't want to see you again. Get out."

The silence became denser.

One that crushed. That bit. Ikelos breathed deeply. Closed his eyes for a second, as if he could absorb everything that was happening and archive it as a curious note.

And when he opened them, his smile had returned, but it no longer had life. It was no longer the mockery of a puppeteer who believed he had the brightest thread between his fingers. Now it was an empty grimace, without weight.

It was forced.

"Whatever you say... 'winner'." —he murmured, with rehearsed theatricality.

He turned. He turned around with such absurd calm that it was insulting. As if his pride, still wounded, refused to show injuries. Because that... was his law. The law of his twisted way of living.

Kael let him go. He did not stop him. He had no reason to. He knew the essence of that god —he would not interfere again. Not after having lost. In Ikelos' world, the winner imposes the rules... and the loser, follows them. Kael had won the game. And his will had already been dictated.

The one who wins... commands.

The one who loses... obeys.

And in that simple truth, as ancient as the gods themselves, his submission was hidden. But just as Ikelos was about to disappear among the twisted pillars of Knossos, a final voice reached him, calm, firm, without effort.

"One more thing."

Ikelos stopped. The echoes of his steps died like a candle in the rain.

"Give me the other orb. The one Dix gave you."

Silence. A pause almost reverent.

Ikelos did not turn completely, but tilted his head just enough for one of his dark blue eyes to glow in the gloom. The invisible tension that vibrated in the air tightened a little more.

'How the hell... does he know?'

Only he and Dix knew about the existence of the second Daedalus Orb. It was never delivered. Never shown. Never even mentioned. Its existence was a secret buried in layers of conspiracy, ambition, and blood. Not even the high commands of Evilus knew about it.

And yet... there he was. That being. That anomaly. Demanding it as if he knew every corner of the board.

'What are you... really?'

And then, for the first time since he saw him, Ikelos smiled sincerely. No longer with mockery, nor with arrogance. But with something deeper. Darker. More... dangerous.

"You are... truly fascinating." —he murmured with a tone that mixed amazement and a almost sickening delight— "Like a walking anomaly... an error in the script that this world wrote. And yet, even so, I cannot take my eyes off you."

Kael did not respond. It wasn't worth it. For him, those were just the ramblings of a disturbed god. A god who had lost. Ikelos reached into his coat. He took out the second orb.

Red. Polished. Perfect. Carved with the same spiral symbols as the one Kael already possessed. An artifact charged with history, power... and scars.

He threw it.

Kael caught it, with the same calm with which one catches a already known thought. His eyes did not leave the god for a second. Ikelos, without more words, turned around. He walked towards the darkness of Knossos with that false serenity that only gods knew how to fake when they lost. But inside him... the thought burned.

It wasn't possible. It didn't make sense. A newly born being. An existence that had barely opened its eyes to the world... had already taken over a centuries-old project in a matter of days.

A simple mortal should not know so much. Should not resist like that. Should not look at him with that firmness. With that gaze that does not falter.

And yet... he did.

Without hesitation.

'He rejected me. Me. A god.'

And the most unbearable of all... is that he did not do it out of ignorance. He did it with understanding. With an overwhelming clarity. As if he knew exactly what he was leaving behind... and it didn't matter to him.

That was what burned inside him. And also... what excited him.

Because Kael, in his mind, was no longer just an anomaly. He was the anomaly. A turning point in history. A crack in the wall of the inevitable. A piece that did not belong on the board, but that when it fell on it, made all the others tremble.

Ikelos did not feel hatred. Nor was there rancor in his heart at that moment. Instead... there was adoration. A febrile, almost sick fascination. He did not see him as an enemy. Nor as a mistake. But as his most glorious discovery.

'How interesting... I really can't wait to see him.'

To see how far he will go... To see how much more he will grow... To see how he dismantles gods and mortals alike... with just his will.

'Ikelos not feel hate. Nor was there rancor in his heart at that moment. Instead... there was adoration. A febrile, almost sick fascination. He did not see him as an enemy. Nor as a mistake. But as his most glorious discovery.

'How interesting... I really can't wait to see him.'

To see how far he will go... To see how much more he will grow... To see how he dismantles gods and mortals alike... with just his will.

'Sí... esto va a ser delicioso.'

Although he himself would no longer be at the center of the stage. It didn't matter. He had always been an observer. He had always preferred it that way. A privileged spectator of the most beautiful tragedies. Of the most absurd wars. Of the most broken heroes.

And now he had a new protagonist. One that did not fit into any mold. One that looked him in the eyes... and said "No". One that won without even understanding the rules of the game.

'Este mundo se estaba pudriendo de lo predecible que era... pero contigo... va a arder.'

With that thought —burning, obsessive, almost ecstatic— Ikelos dissolved into the darkness of Knossos. Smiling. Waiting.

Like someone who has just read the prologue of a masterpiece...

And knew that the best was yet to come.