Val had been walking for an hour, and something was wrong.
Not the "I've been kidnapped to another dimension" kind of wrong. That was obvious. The sky was still a bruised purple, and the ground was still a cracked mosaic of black rock and gray ash. The air smelled like ozone and sulfur, the kind of smell that stuck to the back of your throat.
No, what was wrong was that he wasn't tired.
He was carrying a fully grown woman—a very healthy, curvy woman—in his arms. Back on Earth, Val would have been winded after ten minutes. His arms would be burning, his back screaming.
But now? He felt… fine.
In fact, he felt better than fine. He felt like a coiled spring. Every step he took on the uneven ground felt light, precise. His lungs didn't burn. His heart was beating in a slow, powerful rhythm, like a war drum.
"You're staring at me, Master," Ferrer murmured.
Val looked down. Ferrer had her eyes closed, her head resting against his shoulder. Her silver hair was tickling his neck. Even in this hellscape, she looked immaculate, her skin glowing faintly like moonlight.
"I'm not staring," Val lied. "I'm just… confused."
One of her golden eyes cracked open. "About the geography? We are in the Sealed Lands. Nothing lives here but things that eat other things."
"No, not that," Val shifted her weight slightly. "I've been carrying you for miles. Why aren't my arms falling off?"
Ferrer smirked, a slow, lazy expression that sent a shiver down Val's spine.
"Because, my dear Master, you aren't just human anymore. Not really." She tapped a manicured fingernail against the glowing tribal tattoo on his hand. "The Soul Pact isn't just a leash for me. It's a two-way street. A pipeline."
"A pipeline?"
"I am an Ancient Calamity," she said casually, as if discussing the weather. "My muscles can crush diamonds. My skin can repel meteor strikes. Since you are now my Anchor, your soul is borrowing a fraction of my physical traits to keep your body from exploding under the pressure of my mana."
She reached up and poked his chest. It felt like being poked with a steel rod.
"You have about ten percent of my base stats right now," she yawned, snuggling back into his chest. "Which makes you stronger than, say, a standard castle wall."
Val stopped walking. "I'm stronger than a wall?"
"A small castle. Don't let it get to your head. You still have no technique. You're just a very sturdy baby."
Val looked at his free hand. He clenched his fist. The air popped inside his grip.
"Holy crap."
"Keep moving," Ferrer commanded, closing her eyes again. "My mana reserves are still critically low. I need to sleep. Wake me up if something tries to eat us. Or don't. You can probably punch it to death."
Val sighed and started walking again. "For an all-powerful world-ending monster, you're surprisingly heavy."
"That's all muscle, Master. And pure, concentrated beauty. Now hush."
They walked for another hour before the terrain changed. The flat rocky plains gave way to a jagged canyon. The walls rose high on either side, casting long, dark shadows.
The silence here was different. It wasn't empty; it was waiting.
Val felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was that feeling again—the heightened senses. He could hear a scratching sound. Skritch. Skritch. Like bone dragging on stone.