Traveling as zamasu

Silence. 

Thick, heavy, and terrifying.

Lefiya's staff, Forest Teardrop, its faint glow casting just enough light to see around her.

The tunnel she'd landed in was tight—barely wider than her shoulders—and sloped downward into darkness. The air was cold and stale, with a hint of blood and damp earth.

Then she heard it. A low, wet growl coming from ahead.

It was close. And definitely not human.

Panic hit her hard—cold and overwhelming.

Alone. Hurt. Lost.

The thoughts raced through her head. Flashes of what she'd just seen came with them—Raul slumped against the wall, bleeding from his head. 

Marten chanting with a shaky voice. Elina's terrified eyes. Evilus attackers striking with deadly precision. The monsters moving like they'd trained for this.

They were gone. Cut off.

She was alone, deep inside Knossos. Just a Level 3 mage with no backup.

The growl came again—closer this time. She heard claws scraping against stone.

That was enough to break the panic. Adrenaline kicked in.

Move. Or die.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she crawled forward and grabbed Forest Teardrop. The familiar feel of the staff in her hand helped her focus, just a little.

She pushed herself, leaning against the tunnel wall. Her breathing was shaky, dust thick in her lungs, and fear gnawing at her chest.

She tried to pull her thoughts together and reach for her magic, but her focus was shot. The pressure of the dungeon around her made it even worse.

Could she even cast like this?

She didn't wait to find out.

Pushing off the wall, Lefiya staggered deeper into the dark. The tunnel twisted and branched at random—sometimes narrowing, sometimes opening up without warning.

She moved as quietly and quickly as she could, alert to every sound. The glow from her staff threw long shadows that danced and stretched across the walls. 

Every drop of water sounded like footsteps. Every shift in the stone made her flinch.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was nearby. Watching. Waiting.

Her pace was slow and cautious. She avoided open areas, choosing tighter paths that seemed less likely to be watched. 

The fear weighed her down—her arms, her legs, even her breathing felt heavy.

Will I ever see daylight again? Will anyone even know I'm here?

The thought cut deep.

She pictured Finn giving orders, Riveria staying focused, Aiz moving without hesitation. They were still pushing forward.

She wasn't. She was lost. Slowing things down. Dead weight.

A sudden skittering from a side tunnel made her freeze. She backed into a shallow alcove, holding her breath, gripping her staff tight.

Shapes moved through the dark—rat-like creatures with too many eyes, sniffing the air. They weren't strong, but a fight now could get her killed. 

She stayed still, heart pounding, until they passed and vanished down another path.

Only then did she move again, wiping cold sweat from her brow.

Exhaustion was setting in. Her muscles ached, her injuries throbbed, and the constant tension was wearing her down.

She eventually found a small hollow where part of the wall had collapsed—just off the main passage. Not safe, but out of sight.

She crawled inside, pressed her back to the stone, and pulled her cloak around her. Her breathing was shaky. Her shoulder pulsed with pain.

The silence was too much. Every tiny sound made her flinch. Every echo sounded like footsteps.

Just a moment to rest.

But there was no rest. Her eyes kept snapping open at every noise, her staff always half-raised.

She couldn't stop the thoughts: They're looking for you. You're not fast enough. Not strong enough.

She clutched the focus crystal of Forest Teardrop, trying to steady herself with its quiet energy. It helped, but only a little.

How long could she stay hidden? How long before something found her?

It didn't feel like survival. It felt like delay.

Tears welled up, but she forced them back.

No. Not yet. Keep moving.

Lefiya pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and legs. She slipped back into the dark corridor, every step dragging. 

The fear was still there, heavy and constant, but resting—even briefly—had helped her pull herself together.

Keep moving. Find a way out. Or make one.

The ambush came not long after.

Two figures stepped out from behind a broken pillar in a wider section of the tunnel. 

They wore mismatched leather armor, the Evilus symbol barely visible under layers of dirt and blood. Their eyes were sharp, focused—hunters.

They didn't speak. Just drew their blades.

Behind them, something else moved.

A hunched Xenos with skin like cracked stone shuffled into view. One of its arms ended in a jagged bone spike.

No time for anything fancy. Lefiya acted on instinct.

"Fusillade Fallarica!" she shouted, the words tearing from her throat.

Bolts of light shot from her staff—not a clean volley, but a wild burst. One thug took several hits in the chest and leg, screaming as he dropped. The other ducked behind cover, the bolts slamming into stone.

The Xenos charged forward, raising its jagged bone arm.

She didn't stay to see what came next.

Lefiya turned and ran—down a side tunnel she hadn't even noticed before. Shouts rang out behind her, followed by heavy footsteps.

Her staff's glow bounced off the walls as she ran, showing slick stone and cracked supports. They were catching up.

The tunnel curved hard. She almost lost her footing rounding the corner—and saw a steep incline ahead, covered in loose rock.

No choice.

She scrambled up it, rubble slipping under her boots. Stones tumbled down behind her. She heard someone cry out—hit by falling debris, maybe—but didn't stop to check.

She climbed to the top, chest burning, and disappeared into the next set of tunnels.

She ran until her legs almost gave out, then slowed to a quiet, gasping walk. Every few steps, she looked over her shoulder, listening for signs of pursuit.

Nothing.

The ambush had been quick, but it shook her. She couldn't fight like this—not alone, not injured. A plan formed in her head, clear and simple: Avoid contact. Run when you can. Fight only if there's no other choice.

It felt cowardly. Nothing like the stories she'd grown up hearing. But she wasn't in a story. She just wanted to live.

The next fight didn't give her a choice.

She turned a corner and nearly walked into a lone Evilus scout crouched by a small brazier. He looked up, eyes wide.

She reacted before he could move—shoving mana through Forest Teardrop in a raw, wordless burst. Not a spell. Just panic.

The blast hit him square in the face. He dropped without a sound. Blood and bone splattered the wall behind him.

Lefiya froze, staring at what she'd done. The smell of blood and scorched flesh hit her. Her stomach turned.

She backed away, leaning on the wall, shaking.

But necessity cut through the shock—a practical voice in the back of her mind.

Check him.

She forced herself forward, breathing through her mouth to block the smell. Her hands trembled as she searched his pouches.

Nothing. Just some stale rations and a dull knife.

She stepped back, sick and angry. His face was burned into her memory now, whether she wanted it or not.

Almost an hour later, something like hope flickered.

She found a dead-end alcove that looked like it had been used as a camp. Two Evilus fighters lay inside—dead. Torn apart. 

A smaller, canine-like Xenos lay between them, mangled just as badly.

The fight had been one-sided. Deep cuts marked the walls. Scorch marks and dried blood were everywhere.

Whatever did this was already gone.

Lefiya crept closer, staff raised, eyes scanning the dark beyond.

Nothing moved.

Swallowing her discomfort, Lefiya knelt beside the closest body. His torn armor exposed a rough belt pouch. She reached inside and felt cool glass.

A Healing Potion.

Relief hit her so hard she almost cried.

She searched the others quickly. The second body had nothing useful. The canine Xenos had a small satchel tied to its side. 

Inside were some foul-smelling roots—and two more vials. Another Healing Potion. And a blue one. Mana Potion.

She blinked fast, overwhelmed. Three potions. A chance to keep going.

No hesitation—she uncorked one Healing Potion and drank. The taste was faintly herbal, with a metallic aftertaste. 

Warmth spread through her body. Her shoulder eased. The sharp pain in her ribs faded to a dull throb. Scrapes on her face and arms tingled as they closed.

She let out a slow breath. The fog of exhaustion and pain began to lift.

Not fully. But enough.

She tucked the other two potions into her belt pouch. Their weight felt like hope.

Okay. Okay. Keep moving.

Feeling stronger, she pushed forward. The tunnels stretched on endlessly—stone, dust, shadows—and the fear never left.

She fought two more quick, brutal fights.

The first was a sudden attack from a lone insect-like Xenos dropping from a vent above. She fired a hurried Luminous Wind spell, the blast pushing it back long enough for her to escape down a side passage.

The second was a wounded Evilus soldier, slow and bleeding, leaning against a wall.

She could've avoided him.

But the image of Raul, bleeding and fighting, flashed in her mind.

Anger flared—cold and sharp.

Without chanting, she aimed her staff and fired a focused bolt from twenty paces. He dropped silently.

She didn't search him. She just ran.

The anger faded fast.

The narrow tunnel finally opened into a huge cavern.

It wasn't natural—the walls were clearly cut by skilled hands long ago. Now they were cracked and worn, with thick veins of glowing green crystal pulsing faintly.

The ceiling stretched high, lost in shadow.

The floor was uneven—massive flagstones tilted at odd angles, deep cracks, and piles of rubble everywhere. Stalactites, some as thick as tree trunks, hung overhead like broken teeth.

The air was different here. Colder. Heavier.

A low, humming vibration thrummed through her teeth.

This felt like the heart of Knossos—and it was decaying.

Lefiya moved carefully along the edge, staying in the shadows of fallen stone and glowing crystals. 

The open space made her uneasy—too wide, too exposed. Every small sound echoed loud enough to make her flinch.

She was halfway across a relatively clear stretch, heading for the shadow of a massive, broken pillar ahead, when she froze.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Coming from a tunnel across the cavern.

Lefiya froze. Her blood turned cold.

Hide.

She dropped into a crouch behind a chunk of fallen stone, snuffing out Forest Teardrop's glow with a thought. 

Darkness swallowed her, broken only by the faint green pulse of nearby crystals.

She gripped her staff tight. Her heart pounded so hard it felt deafening.

Carefully, she leaned to peek around the edge.

Someone stepped out from the tunnel.

Tall. Slender. Moving with smooth, familiar ease. Pale hair. Elven ears. 

Even in the dim light, she could see them.

Her breath caught.

Filvis?

Filvis Challia stepped fully into the cavern, her staff hanging loosely in one hand. 

She scanned the space, calm and silent. 

Her stance was relaxed, her movements steady. She didn't look tense. She looked like she belonged here.

Relief hit Lefiya so hard it nearly knocked her off balance.

Tears welled up again, sharp and unexpected. A familiar face. Someone strong. Someone she knew.

She almost called out, almost stood up without thinking. 

The fear, the loneliness, the guilt from everything she'd done—it all surged at once, begging to break loose.

She held herself back.

A sliver of caution—sharpened by hours of fear and running—kept her still.

Why? Why is Filvis here? Alone?

It didn't add up. Filvis was with the Dionysus Familia. They weren't part of the assault team. And this was deep in enemy territory, full of Evilus and Xenos.

How had she gotten here?

Why wasn't she with the others?

Filvis turned, her gaze slowly sweeping the cavern. It paused—just for a moment—on the shadows where Lefiya hid.

Had she seen her?

Lefiya didn't move. She held her breath, pressing closer to the cold stone.

Filvis looked away and walked farther in, stopping near a cluster of glowing crystals. The pale light threw long, warped shadows across the floor.

Relief clashed with caution. The memory of the scout's broken face came rushing back. The way she'd acted—quick, cold, without hesitation.

This place warped everything. Made trust feel dangerous.

But this was Filvis.

Her senior. Someone she admired. Someone who had fought beside Loki Familia.

Gathering what little courage she had left—driven more by hope than reason—Lefiya rose slowly from behind the rubble. 

Her hands trembled. She didn't raise her staff, just held it low at her side, ready if it came to that.

"F-Filvis?" she called, voice rough and brittle. It barely carried in the cavern, cracked more by emotion than effort.

Filvis turned toward the sound.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Her face, bathed in the greenish glow, was calm. Too calm. 

There was no flicker of surprise. No hint of relief. No concern. Just a distant, unreadable look. Eyes that once held quiet strength and sharp focus now looked… hollow.

Flat. Detached.

"Lefiya," Filvis said. Her voice was steady. Flat. "You survived the fall. Unexpected."

That was it.

No concern. No relief. Just a calm, clinical observation.

It hit Lefiya like a slap—cutting through the fragile hope that had surged up seconds ago. Her stomach turned cold. 

She took a step back without thinking, toward the chunk of rock she'd been hiding behind.

"Filvis… what… what are you doing here?" she asked, voice catching. "This place—it's full of Evilus and Xenos. It's a warzone! How did you even get down here?"

The words came out too fast, spilling over each other in a panic-laced rush. She knew something was wrong. She could feel it. 

But part of her—some stubborn, hopeful part—still clung to the idea that this was Filvis. That this could still make sense.

It had to.

Filvis tilted her head faintly, eyes still scanning the ruins. "Knossos is still functioning," she said. Her voice was quiet, unreadable. "Even like this."

"Its foundation is riddled with failure. But even failure has value."

Lefiya felt like the ground was tilting beneath her.

"Filvis… stop," she said, stepping closer, voice cracking. "You're not making sense. You—this place—it's wrong. We need to get out of here."

Filvis didn't answer right away. She just looked at Lefiya, not with anger or relief — not with anything familiar. Just observation. Like she was still deciding something.

"You shouldn't have come this far," Filvis said quietly. "You weren't supposed to see this."

There was no malice in her voice—just a soft finality, like a door being closed.

Filvis finally met her gaze. There was no warmth there. No sign of friendship—just a cold, steady certainty.

"Alone?" she said, a faint, humorless smile flickering on her lips. It didn't reach her eyes. "I am not alone, Lefiya. I am exactly where I'm meant to be."

She paused, letting the silence hang heavy between them. Lefiya felt the low hum in the cavern grow stronger—or maybe it was just her own rising fear.

Filvis took a single step forward. Not threatening, but deliberate.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm and precise, without a trace of regret or doubt. 

Her words landed like stones in the quiet space, breaking Lefiya's world.

"I serve here, Lefiya. As Commander. As Defender." She took another step, eyes locked on Lefiya, holding her in place.

"Dionysus Familia does not fight against Evilus."

The faint smile faded, replaced by a hard, final edge.

"We are partnered with them. This dungeon… is ours."

Chapter 37 end