I always thought silence was just the absence of sound. Being in that dungeon taught me that this was a comfortable lie.
There, silence had weight.
Every step we took made the air react, as if something enormous were paying too much attention to allow unnecessary noise. The walls were black stone covered with bluish veins, like ice fossilized inside the rock. It wasn't ordinary cold. It was a cold that didn't touch the skin, but seeped into the thoughts.
I felt the flame inside me restless, forcibly restrained, like an animal that recognizes a predator before even seeing it.
We followed a wide corridor, supported by pillars carved with ancient demonic symbols. There were no visible traps. There were no monsters. That was the worst possible sign.
"This place was evacuated," Elara murmured behind me. Her voice came out too low. "Or… organized."
I preferred the first option. Unfortunately, everything there screamed the second.
Vespera walked with her bow in hand, the arrow already nocked, even knowing she would probably miss if she had to shoot under pressure. Still, she kept her posture firm, as if missing were part of the plan. Or as if admitting fear were worse.
Liriel came further back, gripping the staff of light with excessive force. Her presence had always been strange—a goddess incapable of acting as one. Her magic was powerful in theory, but limited in practice. And in that place, even light seemed to hesitate.
Then Aeltharion stopped.
The elf raised his hand slowly, without haste, and we all obeyed immediately. Not out of respect. Out of instinct.
He wore no heavy armor, only elven garments reinforced with green and silver runes. His long hair, pale as leaves under moonlight, swayed gently, even though there was no wind at all.
"We are being watched," he said. His voice was far too calm for what that meant.
I swallowed hard. "Since when?"
"Since before we entered," he replied. "He allowed us to advance."
The flame inside me reacted violently to that word.
He.
The corridor ended in a vast circular chamber. At its center, a throne of black ice rose from the ground like an extension of the dungeon itself. There was no one sitting on it.
Even so, I felt the weight of a gaze.
Then the voice echoed.
It didn't come from the walls. Nor the ceiling. Nor the throne.
It came from inside my head.
"You took longer than I expected."
My body froze instantly.
It wasn't fear. It was something worse. It was forced recognition.
The flame inside me tried to react, to explode, to defend itself. And it was crushed. Not extinguished—contained. Like a giant hand closing around a living ember.
My legs wouldn't obey. My fingers trembled.
"Takumi?" Vespera called, her voice distant. "Are you okay?"
I tried to answer. I couldn't.
The voice continued, now closer, clearer.
"This flame… it is still imperfect. Weak. But it is indeed it."
The air grew heavy. Liriel dropped to her knees without understanding why. Elara tried to conjure magic, but her mana evaporated the instant she tried to focus. Vespera released the arrow by reflex—it didn't even complete its arc before dissolving into frozen particles in the air.
Aeltharion took a step forward.
"Show yourself," he said, without raising his voice. "General."
The throne answered.
The ice moved, flowing like solid liquid. A figure began to form slowly—too tall, wrapped in deep ice armor, with white veins pulsing like arteries. The face was not fully visible—only two white eyes, absolute, without iris, without pupil.
The Sixth Demon General.
"You brought interesting reinforcements," he said, looking directly at Aeltharion. "A high-ranking elf. It's been a while."
Aeltharion did not avert his gaze. "You do not belong to this world."
The General smiled.
"And yet, here I am."
The weight increased.
I felt my knees give way. Not by choice. The ground seemed to pull me down, demanding submission. The flame inside me screamed, but could not escape.
The General turned his gaze to me.
"Look at you," he said. "Carrying something you do not understand. Something that was made to sustain a sleeping god."
My vision blurred.
"You are not ready yet," he continued. "But you came closer than you should have."
Aeltharion advanced one more step, and only then did the air react. The pressure lessened a little, just enough for me to breathe.
"You will not touch him," the elf said. "Not today."
The General tilted his head.
"I do not need to," he replied. "He will come to me. Eventually."
The voice invaded my mind again.
"You felt it, didn't you, Takumi? The dungeon… the ice… the dreams. I have been with you since the first one."
My heart raced.
"I have already met you."
The same phrase from the dream.
The ground began to crack.
Aeltharion spun the elven blade in his hand. "Everyone fall back. Now."
Vespera tried to argue. Elara tried to help. Liriel tried to pray.
Nothing worked.
The General slowly raised his hand.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
The world seemed to stop.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pressure ceased.
The General dissolved into ice and shadow, leaving only the empty throne.
Silence returned.
I collapsed to my knees, finally breathing.
Aeltharion turned to me, more serious than ever.
"Now you understand," he said. "We are not here to win."
I nodded, my entire body trembling.
"We are here to survive."
And in that moment, I knew:
the final confrontation was close.
And we were still not strong enough.