Isaac groaned.
His back ached. His chest felt crushed. And for a second, he thought half the cave had collapsed on him. "Heavy..." he muttered, eyes still closed.
Smack!
A sharp slap landed across his cheek.
"Not heavy," came a flustered voice.
Isaac blinked, finally opening his eyes to see Trish scrambling off of him. Her face was red, and without saying another word, she darted to a corner of the cavern and merged with the shadows — trying, and failing, to disappear completely.
"I said I'm not heavy," she muttered again, almost like a ghost.
Isaac exhaled, rubbing his face. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We're alive. That's what matters."
He stood slowly, surveying the chamber. Somehow, despite everything, they'd found themselves back in the underwater cave — the broken foundation of the cave must've dropped them here during the chaos.
His gaze fell on the dungeon core — still glowing faintly, the only stable thing in the room. Everything else had cracked or shifted, but that obsidian-black crystal pulsed like a beating heart.
They'd already gotten what they came for. There was no need to stay any longer.
With a heavy breath, Isaac approached it.
But the moment his hand touched the surface, the world vanished.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing alone on an endless grassland — green rolling hills under a sky that wasn't Earth's. The light was soft, too even, too unreal.
"An illusion," Isaac muttered, instantly going on guard.
"You could say that," a voice responded calmly.
Isaac spun around, raising his fists into a battle stance. But instead of a threat, he saw a man leaning against a rock. The man's features were unfamiliar… but his clothes triggered something in Isaac's memory.
Tattered, ancient, and unmistakable — the same as the skeleton's.
"You…" Isaac narrowed his eyes. "What are you?"
The man smiled faintly. "Me? I'm not entirely sure. I think I was once part of a species called the Elves. But… not much of that's left."
Isaac's guard didn't drop. "Then what do you want?"
"Nothing," the man said with a shrug. "I just wanted to say… thank you. Because of you, I've finally been able to cleanse my ???#&#&"
Static.
Isaac flinched. The man's words turned into a mess of garbled noise, as if something interfered with reality itself.
Then the sky began to shatter.
Cracks spread through the illusion like broken glass, and in the center of the sky, a single massive eye opened — watching.
The man looked up and sighed. "Guess it's too soon for you to know."
He stepped forward, placing a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "I would've loved to explain more. But as you can see, the $@#$__# Static again. won't let me speak freely."
Isaac's mouth moved, but no sound came out. The world around him was collapsing — a void pulling at his thoughts.
"We won't meet again," the man said, voice now strained by the pressure of unraveling space. "So, kid… I'm leaving the fate of Seraa in your hands."
He smiled faintly.
"Trust yourself. And maybe… you'll cleanse your own $#$&_$#"
More static.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
Isaac's eyes snapped open.
He was standing just outside the cave entrance. Trish lay unconscious nearby, breathing slow and steady. The shattered gate that once led to the dungeon core was gone — as if it had never been there.
He looked down at his hand.
A small obsidian fragment pulsed once, then melted into his skin.
[ Seraa Core Acquired. ]
He didn't know what it meant. Not yet. But something deep inside him shifted — like a door had been unlocked.
With a tired sigh, he turned to Trish. She was still out cold, but alive.
Isaac kneeled beside her, checked her pulse, then stood. "You'll be fine."
From his storage ring, he summoned the skeleton's remains — the elf who had once guarded or died beside this place. Using a shovel formed from the lingering red mist, he dug a grave in the soft earth.
No fanfare. No words.
Just instinct.
It felt right to bury him here.
Once the last of the soil was packed in, Isaac stood, eyes thoughtful. "I don't know who you were… but thanks, I guess."
He turned and rummaged through his pack, pulling out a fresh set of clothes. As he stripped away the bloodied, burned remains of his shirt, Trish groaned and slowly sat up.
She blinked, dazed. "We're not dead?"
"Not today," Isaac replied, pulling his shirt on.
She tensed instinctively, then relaxed when she saw him.
"We made it out," she whispered.
Isaac nodded. "Somehow."
He paused, then gave her a look.
"So… cake?"
Trish blinked. "What?"
"You remember. The limited edition one. you wanted . Plus, I need to prep an apology for Maya — I did say I'd be home by evening."
Trish tried to play it cool. She really did.
But the slight drool at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
She cleared her throat, straightened up. "Fine. Since you insisted."
Isaac smirked.
The sun was setting behind them, painting the world in warm hues.
Whatever came next… could wait.
For now, there was cake.