Trela, her panicked breaths beginning to steady, frantically looked around in the darkness, her eyes straining to pierce through the shadows. She knew she had to find something, anything, that could offer a glimmer of hope and bolster Dante's chances of survival.

"Darn it! You guys shouldn't bother with me," Dante's voice whispered in her mind, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

"Dante!" Trela spun around, her heart racing with a mixture of relief and confusion. "The Divine Mindlink? He's still alive and fighting!"

With renewed determination, Trela pushed through the darkness, her steps echoing in the cavernous silence. She was alone, without access to the Holy System's powers, armed only with a rusty sword that offered little protection against the possible dangers lurking within the cave.

"Stay with me, Danny. I'm going to find help. There is still hope," Trela whispered to herself, her voice filled with unwavering determination.

"This is for the better. I tried my best. Marvia, Conrad, Trela, Silmara, Garik... I really did. Believe me," Dante's voice echoed in her mind once again, his words filled with a sense of regret and farewell.

"Danny! I don't know if you can hear me. But I'm not giving up on you. Whatever your problem is, I am here for you. Marvia and Conrad are here for you. Don't give up yet! Stay with us! You're strong! Please!" Trela's words were filled with a desperate plea, her voice echoing through the cave.

She continued running, her determination fueling her weary legs and pounding heart. Trela had already ventured deep into the labyrinthine caves, her solitary figure forging a path through the darkness.

She had been running for what felt like an eternity, her sense of time distorted by the urgency of the situation. All she could do was follow the walls of the cave, hoping to stumble upon a sliver of hope that would aid Dante's survival.

Suddenly, a resounding slap cut through the air, shattering the silence from another part of the cavers. It was a 9-year-old girl with tousled blue hair, deep blue thoughtful eyes, and a lean frame.

Despite her youth, she exuded an air of wisdom that surpassed her tender age, her presence commanding attention.

It was Ravka Grimshaw, the Holy Archivist of the Archives of Truth in the nation of Ironforge. In a surprising display of frustration, Ravka had slapped her companion square on the cheek, her eyes filled with a mix of annoyance and concern.

"Watch out for the bugs here! They are poisonous, you know? You could get killed within a minute. There aren't any Chaplain Knights here to bring you back to life. Hmmph," Ravka scolded, her voice carrying the weight of experience.

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Ravka's frustration stemmed from her companion being dead weight on their archaeological quest, a burden she found herself carrying. The Holy Archivist of Dominion, though young, possessed a wisdom and determination far beyond her years.

"Ugggh! Why do you have to be such a coward? I'm just a little girl, you know? And I'm doing my best here to keep us alive," Ravka retorted, her frustration evident in her voice.

"Yes, Magister Ravka Grimshaw," Trela's companion meekly responded, his fear palpable in his voice.

Ravka sighed, rubbing her forehead, the frustration momentarily subsiding. "Just call me Magister, okay? Or Mag. Ravka. You don't need to use my full name all the time, especially in a dangerous dungeon like this."

"Yes, Magister Ravka Gri-" he began to reply, but the sharp look from Ravka silenced him.

The cave remained dark, but the bioluminescent moss offered a minimal amount of light, allowing them to see a bit further into the depths. However, to maximize visibility, they carried fire torches with them, their warm glow flickering in the cave's embrace.

"So? How many of our party is left? Only the two of us, Magister. The rest of the archaeological team ran away. Many of them did not trust your judgment-" Trela's companion timidly answered, interrupted by the flickering shadows.

Ravka shrugged dismissively, seemingly unperturbed by their departure. "It's up to them if they want to go fend for themselves. Those idiots truly think they can survive getting out of here on their own. This was all part of those old assholes' plan anyway."

"Magister?" her companion cautiously ventured.

"Hayst! Even you must know it already. Those old meisters sent all of us young ones on this wild archaeological goose chase because they're scared of being replaced. They hoped to reduce our numbers so that when we return, there will still be positions left for them. Those greedy assholes," Ravka spat, her voice filled with a mix of anger and resentment.

"But... Magister Ravka... The Search for the Radiant Blade?" Trela's companion questioned, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Shhh! Shhh!" Ravka hushed him, her eyes darting around the cave.

"Yes... Magister... But the Gibbering Archivist was instrumental during The Shattering a thousand years ago," he whispered, his voice trailing off.

Ravka grabbed her companion and covered his mouth with her hand, silencing him. "Shhhh! Someone's coming," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

After hours of tireless running, Trela finally found herself in a corner of the cave. The area was illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants, casting an ethereal light on the surroundings. The plants followed a moisturized zone, indicating the presence of water hidden beneath the layers of rock.

As Trela caught her breath, a sound echoed through the darkness. Pebbles shifting, a faint rustle, a presence that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Who's there? Monster, come out into the light! I'll kill you!" Trela bravely shouted, mustering her courage as she lifted her rusty sword, her grip determined but unsteady.

In the distance, the sound of footsteps could be heard, drawing closer with each passing second. The darkness seemed to thicken, the tension in the air palpable.

Just as Trela prepared to face the unknown threat, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light of the bioluminescent plants. It was the Holy Archivist Ravka Grimshaw.

Ravka carried her crossbow over her shoulder, her tousled blue hair glowing like neon in the dim light. With an air of confidence, she approached Trela.

"What's this about a demon, little girl?" Ravka asked, her voice filled with curiosity and confidence, even though Trela was actually a year older than Ravka herself.