Chapter 863: The dungeon of Abyss (part-2)
The corridor twisted like a serpent.
Its walls were uneven and damp, pulsing faintly with some unnatural rhythm—like veins beneath flesh. Every few steps, the stone cracked underfoot, echoing too loudly in the silence. It was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional distant groan of stone... or something worse.
Orion kept his bow drawn, arrow nocked, eyes sharp.
Lyra walked a few paces behind, her presence nearly soundless. For a girl who claimed to be weak, she was awfully steady on her feet. Not once did she stumble.
"So," Orion said at last, his voice breaking the silence, "you planning on telling me how you freed me from those chains?"
She didn’t reply.
"Right. Secrets. Got it." Orion nodded, accepting it as it is.
They proceeded a few more steps. Then...
Clink.
Orion halted his footsteps. He raised his hand.
Lyra halted instantly.
The floor in front of them... wasn’t a floor.
It shimmered faintly, too smooth compared to the rest of the stone path. A trap.
Orion crouched, brushing his fingers along the edge of the tile. His hand hovered above it, and a faint hum buzzed against his palm.
"What is it?" Lyra whispered.
"No Idea. Be careful..."
He stepped back and scanned the walls. There, thin slots carved high above. "Definitely arrows," he muttered. "Lovely."
"I can try to disable it," Lyra offered. "If you cover me."
Orion hesitated. "You sure?"
She nodded.
He moved behind her, bow still drawn, as she crouched low and pressed her palms to the trap. Her fingers moved like she wasn’t just guessing—like she’d done this before.
"Alright..." she murmured. "Three... two..."
A soft flash.
Then the shimmer faded. The hum ceased.
Lyra stood, brushing off her hands.
Orion blinked. "Okay. You’re either a genius or a con artist."
She didn’t smile. "I listened. Watched. Learned."
They pressed on.
Deeper into the maze, the path finally opened into a larger chamber. The ceiling stretched high, the center lit by an eerie blue flame that floated midair, casting dancing shadows along the walls.
And in the center of the room... a beast was seen waiting for them.
It was as big as a three-story building and feline in nature. Coated in bone-plated armor and black fur. Its eyes glowed a sulfuric yellow, fixed on the two intruders.
Its breath steamed through fang-lined jaws. Runes pulsed across its back.
"A Mournlion," Lyra said under her breath. "You’ve gotta be kidding..."
"You know it?" Orion asked.
"Yeah. From books. It’s supposed to be extinct." Lyra answered.
"You really do know a lot of things." Orion narrowed his eyes.
Lyra didn’t respond.
And then the beast roared.
Sound shattered the stillness like a bomb. A shockwave of sound pressure cracked the walls, sending a gust of dust and stone flying.
Orion raised his arms to shield Lyra. "Back!"
The beast charged at them.
Orion ducked, rolled, and loosed an arrow. It struck the Mournlion’s shoulder, divine light sparking—but the arrow bounced off its bone plating.
"It’s armored everywhere," he growled. "I need a weak point..."
The lion roared again. Sound rippled in visible waves.
Lyra stumbled, blood dripping from her nose.
"Lyra!" he shouted.
"I’m... fine!" she called, though her voice trembled.
The lion lunged again. Orion sprinted in a circle, drawing its attention. He fired arrow after arrow—divine light bursting, smoke trailing, but none found purchase.
"I can’t... pierce it like this. where. where... where... found it."
When the Mournlion roared, its chest expanded—and a patch just above its heart pulsed faintly, flesh exposed between armor plates. Only during the roar.
He had one shot.
"Lyra," he barked. "I need you to distract it. Make it roar again!"
She blinked. "How?"
"Throw something! Shout! Use your powers. I don’t care—just piss it off!"
She nodded, then ran to the far side, grabbing a broken chunk of stone and slamming it against the wall.
The beast turned to her. *Scraaaa*
The Mournlion’s roar rose once more, shattering the air.
Orion jumped high—his muscles coiling, divine energy coursing through his arm. He drew back the bowstring, calling all power into one shot.
The divine arrow lit up the room like lightning.
He fired.
The arrow flew, seared, and pierced the beast’s chest just above the heart.
BOOM.
A shockwave rippled through the chamber as the arrow detonated. The Mournlion staggered back, blood spraying. It collapsed in a heap, breath shallow, then still.
Silence returned.
Orion landed on his knees, gasping for breath. His hand trembled. Divine energy sputtered inside him like a candle fighting the wind.
He looked up.
Lyra stood a few feet away, her eyes not on the beast, but on him.
There was something there. Something quiet. Distant. And oddly... proud.
"You alright?" he panted.
She nodded.
He looked at the lion’s corpse, then the flames above, now glowing a pale gold.
Behind them, a second path opened from the chamber wall.
Another trial.
Orion stood, picking up his bow, and turned to Lyra. "We’re not done," he said.
The corridor beyond the slain Mournlion narrowed again—but this time, it wasn’t stone.
It was glass.
Walls, ceiling, even the floor, crystalline surfaces that gleamed faintly in the golden light behind them. Orion stepped carefully, unsure whether each pane would hold under his weight. They did, but his reflection stared back at him from every angle. Dozens of copies of himself... watching.
"What the hell..." he muttered.
Lyra followed close behind. Her eyes flicked around, wary. "This... feels wrong."
The further they went, the more distorted their reflections became. Orion’s grin turned into a snarl. Lyra’s delicate face became gaunt, shadowed, eyes hollow. And then the corridor split into two.
Two identical paths.
Orion halted. "Great. A fork."
He looked at Lyra. "Which way?"
She frowned. "They look the same."
He took a breath and closed his eyes. "Left."
"Why?"
"Because it feels worse. And my instincts seldom get wrong."
They stepped into the left corridor.
The air grew colder. The reflections warped more and more until they no longer moved in sync.
Then the whispers began.
You’re weak.
Pretending to be a fighter won’t make you one.
Your father gave you everything, but you’re still nothing.
You don’t deserve to be his heir. Only someone like Zion can be his heir.
The voice wasn’t anyone else’s.
It was his own.
Orion’s steps faltered.
In the glass beside him, one of the reflections turned out of sync. Its mouth twisted into a sneer.
"You really think you belong in that arena?" it asked.
Orion froze.
Lyra turned toward him. "Orion?"
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
The reflection stepped out of the mirror.
A perfect copy of Orion, bow in hand, divine light pulsing from his veins. "Let me guess. You think just because you trained in some gravity chamber, took down a robot, and fought a seeded assassin, that makes you strong?"
Orion stepped back, raising his bow. "This isn’t real."
"Oh, it’s real enough," said the clone. "I’m everything you don’t want to admit. The coward. The fraud. The spoiled son of a god."
It fired.
Orion barely blocked in time, the divine energy blast knocking him backward. Glass behind him cracked.
Lyra ran forward to help, but the wall sealed between them in an instant.
"Orion!"
He slammed his fist against the mirror. "Stay there!"
His clone laughed. "Afraid she’ll see the truth?"
Orion gritted his teeth. "I’ve heard enough."
He launched forward.
They clashed.
Divine energy burst in shockwaves. The mirror walls flashed and shook, echoing every impact. Orion’s fists flew, and each punch met with one of equal force. They moved in sync. Every strike was anticipated. Every move mirrored.
"I am you," said the copy, grinning through gritted teeth. "And you’re nothing without your father’s protection. You wouldn’t even be here if not for him."
Orion’s blood boiled. "You think I don’t know that?!"
The copy paused.
"I do know. I know exactly what I’ve been handed. But I’m still here. Still fighting. Every step I’ve taken, I’ve earned!"
He roared, summoning divine energy—not to his bow, but his body.
Muscles rippled. Veins flared with light. And he landed a clean punch straight through the copy’s chest.
The mirror-shade exploded into shards of gold and white.
The mirror-walls cracked, then shattered entirely.
Lyra rushed in. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, panting. "Y-Yeah."
But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were locked on the corridor ahead.
A massive circular chamber awaited, at the center of which sat an altar with two platforms.
On one platform... lay a key glowing with brilliant violet light.
On the other... a crystal prison, inside of which a girl knelt—eyes closed, lips parted slightly, as though frozen in sleep.
Lyra stepped forward slowly, her face suddenly pale.
"No."
Orion looked between her and the figure. "You know her?"
Lyra didn’t answer.
Instead, her hand reached into her sleeve, pulling out a small knife.
Orion blinked. "Wait... what are you..."
Before he could move, Lyra turned the blade toward her own chest.
"No!"
He dashed forward and grabbed her wrist.
She struggled. "Let go!"
"What the hell are you doing?! What’s going on..." Orion just doesn’t understand what’s with Lyra all of a sudden, but he tightly grabbed her...