Holding onto Rosamund’s collar, Ike plummeted into the Abyss. Rosamund slapped his hand away. Ike released her, and she kicked away from him and threw her hand out. A rose appeared, but as soon as it appeared, it wilted. Again. Again. She stared at her hand, startled. “Why can’t I—?”

“Young mistress!” The short-haired handmaid jumped into the Abyss, pulling out her flying broom as she plunged.

The long-haired one lunged and caught her, yanking her back from the edge. The broom tumbled down, clattering after Ike and Rosamund. “You idiot! Flying techniques don’t work in the Abyss!”

“Wha…what?” the short-haired one asked, lost.

“Quickly. Let’s go fetch the young mistress’ father. He’s the only one who can reach her in the depths!” The long-haired one pulled out her broom and sped away, dragging the short-haired one with her.

“I can’t, I can’t—” One after another, Rosamund summoned roses, only for them to wilt and die beneath her.

Beside her, Ike threw his weight forward and flipped toward his feet. He fell into the Abyss at an angle, close to the wall, and he dropped toward it now. Ike narrowed his eyes, watching it rush up. Three. Two.

Smooth stone rushed at him. He kicked out, activating Lightning Dash and Lightning Clad with his full strength. His feet impacted the wall for a second. Pain surged through his feet and ankles, all the way up his shins, but he gritted his teeth and endured it. The wall rushed toward him again. Three. Two. One.

Another kick. Slowing his speed, one strike at a time. Rosamund fell past him, surging toward the bottom, while Ike sped at a slightly slower speed, mitigating his fall with all his strength. One kick at a time, he dropped into the darkness. Every time he kicked, the pain grew stronger. When he fell, Salamander Healing healed the pain, but it couldn’t absorb all the damage in the seconds before his next kick. His joints creaked and his bones groaned, but he kept kicking, persistently slowing his drop. It’s this or death.

Below him, Rosamund struck the ground with a brittle crash.

Ike frowned. Crash?

There was no time to question it. Three more kicks, and he landed on the ground beside her. Ike hopped back, legs straining to manage the simple maneuver, and watched her warily.

She laid silently on the ground. Dark blood leaked out from under her, but there was something strange about her wounds. Rather than ripping or tearing, her skin had shattered. Hard chunks of porcelain-like material scattered around her body.

Porcelain? Is this some high-class immortal skill? A protective spell, or something? Ike wondered. He backed away, his steps a little stiff. Either way, I should get out of here. I don’t want to be here when she wakes up. If she wakes up.

His ankle hit something soft, and he jumped, then cursed under his breath as his whole lower body screamed in pain. Slowly, he turned.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

A wolf laid on its side, dead. Not the silver wolf, but one of the ordinary ones that had fallen into the Abyss.

Ignoring his complaining legs, Ike knelt and scooped it up, dangling it over his shoulders. The broom the handmaids had dropped rolled around on the rocky floor beside it, so he picked that up too, turning it around to use its handle as a sort of makeshift walking stick. There was no sign of the silver wolf, except for a small bloodstain not far from where the first wolf had landed.

Ike turned slowly, taking in the Abyss. The two walls, one close, one far, far away from him, sloped upward. They defined the two boundaries of the world. Imposing, smooth, pale grey stone offered no route back to the surface. Underfoot, the same smooth, water-carved rock flowed along. Dusty gray shale littered its surface. Strange outcroppings pushed out of the floor all around him, forming nooks and strange hollows. Shadows clung to the stone, shifting only when his eyes moved away from them. A few hardy bushes gripped the rock here and there. Overall, there was little vegetation to speak of. Little animal life, either. The entire span was desolate, twisted rock, and little else.

Ike ran a hand over the back of his head. Is that why no one escapes the Abyss? Do they all starve?

He craned his neck up, looking back from whence he’d came. The same shadow that had hid the floor of the Abyss now darkened the sky. Rather than the blue of daylight, he saw a dusky dark grey. The walls stretched up, up, up. Completely sheer cliffs blockaded his way back to the surface. I won’t be escaping that way.

A cold chill swirled around him, carrying with it strange energy. Not mana, not quite…or maybe a strange type of mana? He lifted his hand and tried to absorb a strand, but it escaped him. He checked on his core, and found it half-empty, steadily draining as his body healed. Ike grimaced. Not good.

Rosamund twitched. Ike jolted. I shouldn’t stand around here. Giving Rosamund a final glance, he hobbled off along the Abyss, away from the city. He couldn’t go back there. Now that Rosamund knew about his skills, it was a death sentence to return. If she gets out, that is.

At that, Ike paused again and turned back.

She laid there, helpless. Her eyes open, but taking nothing in. Dark blood leaking out of the cracks in her porcelain skin.

I could kill her. No—I should kill her. If I were in the same situation, she wouldn’t hesitate. Ike hobbled back to her side. He drew his sword, lifting it high over her, and plunged it down.

Tink.

The blade bounced off her neck. Reverberations ran up the sword and into Ike’s hand, numbing his wrist. He cursed and retracted his hand, swapping the sword to his free hand to give it a good shake. Looking at his hand, then Rosamund’s uninjured neck, he grimaced. It had felt like striking stone. As if her neck were solid granite. Not a mark remained on her seemingly delicate flesh, but a fresh nick marred his sword’s edge.

“What are you?” Ike asked. He lowered himself laboriously and hooked a finger in one of the cracks, tilting it back to see inside.

Hollow. No flesh, no bones. Hollow as a doll, except for the strange, sticky liquid that puddled on the floor around her. Not black, but a dark, dark red. Like a clot of dried blood. Like something dead. He reached out to touch the puddle.

A second before his fingers contacted the fluid, a sudden wave of revulsion came over Ike, and he backed away sharply, clasping a hand to his mouth. Wrong. Whatever Rosamund was, it was wrong. The mana in his core churned, as if afraid of that dark fluid. It fled his hand of its own accord, rather than his calling.

The pale body. Broken, yet still so human. The dark fluid. Those unseeing eyes, gazing at the sky. Like a shattered doll. Ike swallowed. He hesitated one last second. His eyes traveled to Rosamund’s face, now unmoving and hard. She’s dead, though, right? Cracked open. Hollow inside. She has to be dead.

The glass eyes turned, snapping to stare at him.

Ike hobbled off as fast as he could. Fuck that. No thanks.

That’s not human. Whatever it is…it’s not human.

Rosamund, what are you?

Scrrrr. Scrrrr. Something dragged over the stone behind him. Slowly, but steadily, growing ever closer.