Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 101: Ardous Journey

The crimson mist clung to them like a living thing.

Raerin was the first to cross the threshold, his silhouette swallowed by the thick, rust-hued vapors that billowed from the cavern’s mouth. The air inside tasted of old iron and decay, thick and wet, the scent clinging to the back of the throat. Behind him, his people followed, hesitant and weary, their faces drawn tight with exhaustion and fear.

Jonan kept his hand near the hilt of his blade, his other clutching Ayaka’s wrist as they descended into the dark. The sound of battle outside was already distant, reduced to distant echoes of steel against flesh and the inhuman howls of beasts. It was behind them now—the ridge, the chieftains, the sacrifice made so that Dragon’s Tooth might survive.

"Stay close," Raerin’s voice rumbled from ahead, nearly swallowed by the cavern’s oppressive hush. The only light came from the makeshift torches some of the elders carried, flickering tongues of flame that cast long, uncertain shadows against the jagged stone walls.

The Bleeding Cavern earned its name well. Crimson mist poured in slow, sinuous waves from cracks in the walls and fissures in the ceiling. Dark, wet streaks ran down the stone as though the earth itself wept blood. The deeper they went, the thicker the mist grew, clinging to skin, hair, and breath.

For the first few hours, their path was relatively straight—an uneven tunnel that twisted deeper and deeper into the earth. The ground was treacherous underfoot, strewn with loose stones and occasional pools of stagnant, red-tinged water. Children stumbled and were caught by grim-faced parents. The elders spoke little, their eyes flickering to every movement in the mist.

The only sounds were the scrape of boots on stone and the occasional distant drip of water—or something heavier.

**By the second hour, the ground changed.**

The earth underfoot began to crack and split, creating jagged, uneven paths. Stalagmites jutted from the floor in cruel, blade-like shapes, while stalactites hung like ancient fangs above. A wrong step could mean a broken ankle, a slip into a shallow pit of mist that swallowed sound and light alike.

Raerin raised a hand, halting the line. "Hold."

They obeyed without hesitation.

Ahead, the path widened into a cavern chamber, the mist swirling and rising like a living sea. From the shadows, shapes moved. Not beasts—at least not yet—but remnants of those who had come before them.

Old, decayed corpses sat propped against the walls. Some were little more than bone wrapped in ancient, desiccated skin. Weapons lay nearby—rusted swords, spears snapped in half. A warning left by the dead.

"We press on," Raerin said grimly.

**By the third hour, the first real trial came.**

A narrow pass, its walls slick with moisture, and the ground sharp with stones. Here, something moved in the mist. A long, sinuous shape that slithered through the crimson fog. It made no sound but left a ripple in the mist as it moved.

Raerin gestured sharply, and the line pressed themselves against the walls. The thing passed—a serpent of flesh and bone, blind and pale, its maw lined with inward-pointing fangs. It paid them no mind, sliding into the gloom beyond. Only once it was gone did anyone breathe.

Jonan let out a shaking exhale. Ayaka’s grip on his wrist left shallow indentations in his skin.

"Keep moving," Raerin ordered.

**By the fifth hour, the first casualty.**

A young man, barely old enough to hold a spear, misstepped. The rock beneath him gave way. He let out a strangled cry as he tumbled down a jagged slope. By the time they reached him, his leg was shattered, twisted at a terrible angle.

"We carry him," Raerin said.

The man’s father and brother hoisted him between them, their faces tight. No one spoke of leaving him behind, though all knew what weight it added.

**They reached the First Layer’s descent after six long, grueling hours.**

A narrow fissure split the chamber wall, descending sharply. Raerin tested the edge, then nodded. "Rope."

It took them half an hour to fashion crude climbing ropes from strips of cloth and pack cords. One by one, they descended into deeper gloom. The mist was thinner here but replaced by an eerie phosphorescent glow along the walls—a sickly green light that came from colonies of strange fungi.

The First Layer proper was a sprawling maze of narrow tunnels and collapsed ruins. Old carvings lined some walls—symbols no one recognized, their edges worn smooth by time and mist.

It was here they encountered their second obstacle.

A pack of dusk-feeders. Rat-like creatures the size of dogs, their flesh pallid and hairless, their eyes dull white pearls. They swarmed from the darkness, drawn by the scent of blood from the injured man.

Raerin fought like a demon, his spear a blur, skewering three of the beasts in quick succession. Jonan’s blade bit into another, the thing shrieking as its blood hit the stone in smoking splatters.

Others joined the fight, blades and crude spears keeping the creatures at bay. It lasted less than five minutes, but left two more wounded and the group breathless.

"Keep moving," Raerin said after they gathered themselves.

They did.

**Through the First Layer, into the Second.**

The path became a series of crumbling stone bridges over mist-choked ravines. The bridges swayed and cracked under their weight. More than once, someone slipped, only to be grabbed by the nearest hand.

They lost a pack mule here. The creature’s foot shattered a weak stone, and it plunged into the fog below, its braying cut off by a distant, wet crunch.

The people moved faster after that.

The Second Layer brought new horrors. Cavern walls covered in a thick, mucus-like growth that pulsed faintly, as if alive. At intervals, eyeless things hung from the ceilings—limp, bat-like creatures that only stirred if one passed too close.

A child brushed one. It let out a high, keening wail, and for a moment, it seemed the entire cavern answered. Shapes stirred in the distance. Raerin silenced them with a sharp hand gesture and ushered them through before the watchers arrived.

They made it, barely.

**By the time they reached the Third Layer, their strength was fraying.**

They entered a wide cavern ringed by broken pillars, old stone altars long since reduced to rubble. Here, the mist receded somewhat, and the air felt marginally less oppressive.

Raerin called a halt.

"We camp here," he announced.

No one argued.

They set up crude barriers of stone and scavenged wood. Fires were kindled, small and smoky, fed by dried fungus and bits of old rope. The injured were laid down, and poultices applied.

Their food stores were depleted. The last of their clean water gone hours ago. Raerin dispatched small hunting parties to search the nearby tunnels for edible moss and the pale, fat insects that lived in the walls.

Jonan sat by one of the small fires, watching the mist swirl in the distance.

Ayaka brought him a piece of dried meat and a waterskin filled with stale, mineral-rich liquid.

"Here," she murmured.

He took it with a nod. "We’ll need to move again soon."

"I know," she whispered.

Raerin walked the perimeter of their camp, his face like carved stone. He spoke briefly with the elders, took stock of their dwindling supplies.

By the time the hunters returned with bundles of fungus and squirming insect grubs, a grim plan was forming.

Rest tonight. Move at first light. Supplies would last another day, perhaps two.

The Fifth Layer was still leagues below.

But for now, they had survived.

**And in this place, survival was no small victory.**

Raerin stared into the mist, and silently made another promise.

They would reach the Fifth Layer.

Even if he had to carry them one by one.

Raerin didn’t look back again. The sounds of battle faded behind them, swallowed by the thick, metallic mist that seeped from the cavern’s throat. The crimson fog clung to their skin, slick and warm, as though the very air bled around them. Each step deeper into the maw was like stepping into a forgotten world where light had long since abandoned its claim.

The path inside was treacherous—jagged rock formations jutted out from the ground and ceiling alike, forming grotesque shapes in the half-seen gloom. Shadows shifted in ways they shouldn’t, and the stone underfoot was slick with some dark residue that no one dared name. Every few steps, someone stumbled, catching themselves against rough stone walls.

Jonan’s lungs burned from the damp, iron-rich air. His skin prickled with unseen touches, as though things lurked just beyond the reach of vision, brushing against him in the mist. Ayaka stayed close by, her dagger drawn, eyes wide but steady.

They moved as a tight knot, the entire Dragon’s Tooth colony clinging together out of necessity. The cavern walls seemed to close in as they progressed, narrowing until it felt as though the world itself was pressing against them. The mist thickened, and the darkness became oppressive.