Chapter 14.2

“So, they really did head for the depths of the Demonic Realm?”

The compass pointed unerringly toward the Abyss, the deepest and most dangerous part of the realm.

“Damn it. This is why they always end up missing! What is the Grand Duke thinking, wandering into the Abyss without a successor?”

The reports from adventurers and the compass’s direction left no doubt—Arina and her knights had entered the Abyss.

“The Abyss is no joke…”

In the depths of the Demonic Realm, the Abyss was a place where true peril began.

Monsters there disregarded the golden paint protecting Arad’s carriage, and their numbers were exponentially greater than in the outer regions.

Worse still, the ancient magic of Golden Era dungeons could disrupt Arad’s magical devices, rendering his equipment unreliable.

Though Arad’s maxed-out skills were formidable, the limitations of 100-year-old tools and materials were unavoidable.

“Sure, there will be fewer adventurers, but that’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it?”

Humans were just as dangerous as monsters in the Abyss.

Adventurers in the outer regions were typically C-rank or lower, mostly from the North.

Against such opponents, Arad’s Tier-2 mana and magic crossbow were more than sufficient.

But adventurers in the Abyss were a different story.

“B-rank and above are usually one of two types: ruthless ‘legal bandits’ from outside the Empire, or Imperial spies with ulterior motives.”

In situations like this, it was the Imperial spies who posed the greatest threat.

“Untouchable agents exploring the ancient dungeons of the Abyss for the Empire.”

Their skill was such that they could slit his throat before he even had the chance to aim his crossbow.

“I’ve been lucky so far not to encounter any Imperial adventurer parties.”

Arad sighed deeply, leaning back in one of the chairs in his carriage.

“If I go through all this trouble and the Grand Duke is unharmed… it’ll feel so hollow.”

Relying on instinct alone was thrilling, but it was also nerve-wracking.

—

The snowstorm raged across the barren wasteland, blurring visibility and casting everything in a dull, ashen gray.

The Abyssal snowfields were not pristine white but carried a desolate, lifeless hue.

Amidst this expanse, a faint campfire flickered, providing a solitary beacon of light.

“…”

“…”

Around the fire sat six figures, heavily cloaked in thick, fur-lined mantles made from the hides of monsters.

Their faces, hidden under hoods of monster fur, bore the marks of exhaustion from their grueling journey.

The prized steeds, the unflinching warhorses bred to withstand the horrors of the Abyss, were nowhere to be seen.

“Where did it all go wrong?”

Arina, seated among the group, gazed blankly into the fire.

This surreal situation felt like a bad dream. She half-expected to wake up in her chambers in the High Tower, or even in the comfort of Polly’s inn in Haven.

She raised her head, scanning the ashen snowfields once more.

The act of surveying their surroundings had become as instinctual as breathing—a habit born of survival.

“No trace of any barrier… and yet, we’re trapped.”

For what felt like two months, they had been wandering a labyrinthine barrier with no end in sight.

—

When Arina and her knights first entered the Abyss, the landscape was deceptively familiar.

Small hills, sparse groves, and peculiar mutant monsters dotted the snowy plains, just as they always had.

Adventurers darted about, hunting or being hunted by the creatures of the Demonic Realm—a scene as routine as breathing for the hardened people of the North.

“It’s good we left as quickly as we did.”

The knights, including Arina, had been relieved to see nothing amiss.

No signs of the catastrophic events described by Doyle, the sole surviving knight of Frostfangs’s Order.

But something felt… off.

“It’s too quiet.”

Even with reports of a necromancer controlling Abyssal monsters, the lack of abnormalities was suspicious.

“Let’s move quickly. Doyle, lead the way.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

Despite their suspicions, they trusted Doyle completely.

The knights of Frostfangs were the most loyal and dependable of Arina’s forces. If they could not be trusted, then no one in the North could.

Riding their warhorses, the party pressed into the Abyss.

Though they encountered attacks from monsters along the way, the Grand Duke and her knights easily swept aside all resistance.

They reached the edges of the Abyss without so much as a scratch, their provisions untouched.

The Abyssal border was starkly different from the outer regions.

The snowfields turned an oppressive ashen gray, and the atmosphere grew heavier with every step.

“This is strange.”

Even seasoned knights murmured their unease.

“Not a single soul in sight.”

B-rank adventurers who would typically roam the Abyss in small groups were nowhere to be seen.

The absolute absence of people was uncanny.

“And no monsters either.”

The Abyssal snowfields were eerily empty, devoid of the creatures that defined the Demonic Realm.

“It’s too quiet.”

The Abyss lived up to its name. Its oppressive silence gnawed at their nerves, an unnatural stillness that was both unsettling and suffocating.

“Your Grace, I believe we’ve been caught in a barrier.”

The grim realization hit like a blow.

“Hmph… how? When?!”

“If it was a barrier, how did none of us notice?”

“Stay sharp! We’re dealing with an incredibly skilled necromancer!”

But recognizing the problem didn’t solve it. By the time they understood their predicament, it was too late.

“We should’ve brought the witches…”

“At least Isabelle, the Spring Witch. Her skills could’ve been invaluable.”

Regret weighed heavily on them. Their reluctance to disrupt the witches’ work during the crucial planting season now seemed like a grave mistake.

“Don’t lose hope! Every barrier has an end—there’s always a way out!”

“Right. We’ve dealt with barriers before. Annoying, yes, but not insurmountable!”

“Let’s focus. Search for the gaps.”

Resolute, Arina and her knights began scouring the barrier, their minds honed and their spirits steeled.

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