Azzel and Abaddon emerged from the dark, narrow tunnel into the desolate streets of the Darkwood District. The faint moonlight shone, revealing the outlines of crumbling buildings and messy alleys.

Azzel's hand gripped the golden card, staring at the small inscriptions on its back.

In the shadows, we thrive. Find the web, and you'll find your answer.

'Find the web?' he mused, 'This isn't the 21st century here."

The cryptic words tugged at his mind. He inquired Abaddon about it but the latter only shook his head, his past life memories offering nothing to clarify the situation. Despite his frustration, Azzel knew he would unravel the golden card's mystery himself.

Suddenly, his mind wavered as exhaustion struck him. The night's events had been pressing and he barely could catch his breath.

"We need a spot... to rest tonight." Azzel's eyes swept over the dilapidated houses and abandoned structures, searching for a place to settle down.

He walked around with light steps, using the darkness to cover their approach. Abaddon silently followed, alert to his surroundings. They noticed a small building in the corner, the door slightly ajar and creaking under the cold breeze.

Azzel pushed it open, revealing a small room.

'This feeling...' he glanced around. The space was barren save for a few broken chairs and a dusty table, yet his attention was drawn to the far wall. He stepped closer, almost dragging his feet on the cold wooden floor.

He noticed a faded symbol etched on the wall that resonated with the golden card in his hand. His fingers traced through each line, their glows becoming brighter by the second.

"Is this..." a thought suddenly struck him, "the web?"

He inched closer to investigate when distant sounds of metallic footsteps echoed. Azzel drew back his hand and looked for a corner to hide. Abaddon crouched, using his dark cloak to blend in the darkness.

Sounds of argument cut through the air and disturbed the silenced district. Yet none came out to quell it, thinking it was another night in the slums.

"Patrols?" Azzel guessed.

The commotion at the warehouse, and revelation of the city lord and the Ashen Veil's partnership, would stir the city awake; not limited to city patrols, but to a likely investigation of the city lord.

He had no energy to care as it was all spent, feeling his body ache at the thought.

Hours of investigation.

Draining magic usage.

Dismantling the wards.

And the unsettling experience in the tunnel.

He slowly sank into the wooden floor, leaning on the sturdy stone wall. "Abaddon..." he murmured, his eyes half-closed as he used the last of his energy in storing the golden card to his ring, "...keep an eye out for anything. I... need some rest."

"You can rest well, master," Abaddon replied, shifting his eyes to the entrance.

The room fell silent save for the faint sound of Azzel breathing. The oppressive atmosphere of the Darkwood District seemed to press in on them, but for the first time in hours, Azzel allowed himself to succumb to his weariness. His mind buzzed with unresolved questions, but the promise of rest outweighed his curiosity.

Morning came quietly, the distant crows of chicken waking Azzel up. His eyes fluttered open, his scarlet gaze adjusting to the faint light filtering through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. The cold air of the Darkwood District seeped into his bones, but his mind felt sharper, his body lighter after the short reprieve. He sat up, feeling the stiffness in his muscles.

"Master, you're awake." Abaddon's voice broke his thoughts.

"Mm..." Azzel nodded, "How long did I sleep?"

"Quite a while, master," Abaddon replied. "Though the city seems to be in chaos during your sleep."

Azzel rose, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness. "Anything of note other than that?"

"None I could remember." Abaddon shook his head.

"I see," Azzel frowned but put the thoughts back in his head. He took out the golden card and noticed its shimmering surface glowing brighter than before.

"Right, there's this." he scanned the room and searched for the symbol he had seen before. His eyes landed on the far wall, where the faint lines glowed, resonating with the golden card in his hand.

Abaddon leaned over. "That symbol is too faint, master. How did you discover it?"

"This," Azzel approached the symbol and placed the golden card closer. "This card must be a key."

He could feel the card in his hand pulsating as if it acknowledged his recent discovery. "Very clever. A symbolic link between a card and a symbol? Whoever's behind this is no simple man."

Abaddon voiced concern, "Master, do you think this is a trap or a test?"

"Both," Azzel traced the glowing symbols downward, disappearing into the floorboard. He wiped off the dust covering the floor, revealing a small groove wide enough for his card to be inserted.

A hidden compartment perhaps? Or a trap?

"This might be it," Azzel said, kneeling and putting the card on top. "I hope this works."

Abaddon remained silent, watching Azzel insert the card into the small groove. The faint energy rippled outward, and the floor beneath them trembled slightly; followed by a soft click.

Azzel waited for something to happen yet after he felt his knees aching in pain, he stood up with a disappointed look. But all hope was not lost for he had managed to find an anchor to his golden card.

'Maybe others hold a card similar to mine?' he looked at the symbol again, the glow becoming fainter as he moved away. 'It might take longer than I expect.'

Since the other party wouldn't approach him proactively, it was better to wait.

'That strange person wouldn't give me this card for no reason.' he mused before storing the golden card in his ring. 'If they want me to wait, so be it. But I won't waste time standing still.'

His gaze dropped to the makeshift fabric pouch hanging on his side. The obelisk's once-vivid inscriptions dimmed, the runes devoid of its energy. He frowned, picking it up and brushing his fingers along the cold surface.

"Master?" Abaddon asked, his tone cautious.

"Something happened to this obelisk," Azzel replied, "Did you really not notice anything last night?"

"I apologize but I have already told you everything I could, master." Abaddon bowed slightly.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Azzel turned his gaze back to the obelisk, his mind racing with countless possibilities.

Was it drained of energy? Was it because the orb separated? Or maybe it was connected to the wards he had dismantled?

The theories swirled over him, yet none could explain the obelisk's current state and how it came to be. A single thought, however, persisted.

'The tunnels.'

The experience haunted him deeply. From minding his own business as he stepped over the ancient passageway to suddenly gaining chaotic visions of a ruined city coupled with ancient hums resonating from an unknown language, his sanity almost slipped away under the weight of those fragmented memories.

His grip tightened on the obelisk, its cold surface pulling him back to the present. 'Could it be?' he wondered, 'The obelisk, my presence, and that tunnel... they must be connected. But how?'

The coincidences were numerous for him to ignore. If the obelisk wasn't a catalyst to the experience, why had its energy drained completely? And why would those images flash in his mind only at that moment and not when he entered it the first time?

Azzel gritted his teeth, finding his current situation ridiculous. All he had were fragments of something larger, refusing to align unless he desired to know more.

For now, he had to push it aside. Survival and understanding demanded focus, not idle speculation. The uneasiness lingered on his chest despite his effort to suppress it, but whatever the truth was, it wouldn't stay hidden forever.

He stood and glanced at the cramped room and its broken furniture. The weight of the pouch on his side constantly reminded him of its presence. "This district is not safe. The city might be on a tight lockdown, and the officials are pursuing us. We need to move out."

Abaddon stepped closer. "Where to, master?"

Azzel took out the city's map, his eyes marking out some of the intertwined passageways of the Abandoned Tunnels.

'I won't risk going through that same path again,' he said after looking at the large network formed around it.

'Another entrance is nearby, but it's exit...' his hands traced, '. No, it's far north; too risky.'

He slowly swept over the map again, studying the intricate web of tunnels etched with faint symbols he could barely recognize. Most exits led to the northern and eastern parts, areas already teeming with patrol presence.

Azzel's fingers hovered over the southern parts, broken lines marked with symbols denoting unstable or collapsed areas. Two western exits remained: one leading slightly to the north, its exit near the walls, and the other extending southwards, its destination unknown.

"What a joke," he scoffed with a displeased expression. The map offered no easy solutions.

"Master, we can take the northwestern route," Abaddon leaned over, offering his advice. "If the guards spot us, I can carry you and sprint at full speed. We'll be gone before they can respond."

Azzel weighed the consequences and closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. "I guess we have no choice then."

The northern and eastern paths were suicide, and the southern parts looked ominous.

"Understood, master." Abaddon nodded, "Shall I take the lead?"

"Go ahead."

As they prepared to leave, Azzel folded the map and tucked it into his storage ring. His thoughts suddenly lingered on the obelisk lying in his pouch. The artifact's energy loss concerned him, and its connections to the tunnels remained a mystery.

Azzel used the limited darkness as the pair dashed through the narrow alleys. He could feel the thick scent of damp wood and waste stench, the desolate sight reflecting on his eyes.

As they turned to a corner, Azzel noticed movement and whimpers on a house nearby. He tugged at Abaddon to halt, his hand raised to indicate silence.

Through the narrow gaps of a boarded-up window, he caught a glimpse of three figures murmuring; their voices reaching his ears.

"Mother, when will Father come back?" a small voice asked.

Azzel's breath caught. He edged closer, careful not to make a sound, and peered through the gaps. Inside the dark room, a woman knelt in front of two children. Their faces were gaunt, their clothes bare and torn, yet their eyes held a light of hope despite their grim situation.

"I don't know my love," the mother replied, brushing her child's hair, "But we must pray to the Sovereign that your Father is safe and healthy, and that may he return to us soon."

The younger child clung to her arm, tears welling up from its eyes. "But what if he doesn't come back? What will happen to us?"

The woman hesitated, her expression difficult. "Then we'll keep going, together. Live, like as always."

Azzel stepped back with a frown, his heart tightening at the scene. The image of the mother and her child blurred, replaced by a memory he hadn't seen in months.

"Azzel," the warm call of a woman echoed, "you've been spending too much time on the computer again. Come and eat before the food gets cold!"

Azzel dazedly sat on a wooden chair, staring at a woman's figure as she placed a plate of steamy food on a glass table. The kitchen light glistened on it, reflecting the plate's delicious look.

A rough chuckle pulled him out of his daze. "Let him be, dear. The boy is just determined, isn't that, Zel?"

Azzel nodded eagerly with a puffed face, his cheeks turning red. "Yes, yes! I want to be the best! If I keep practicing, I will win that championship one day!"

His mother sighed, though she couldn't help but smile as she looked at her son. "Just don't forget to take care of yourself, Zel," she flicked her index finger into Azzel's forehead, "Winning isn't everything."

His father's face eased at that moment, leaning forward to him. "Your mother's right, Zel. Success is good, but not without people to share it with."

He straightened and enjoyed a cup of coffee, "Don't forget about your mom and me when you win that."

Azzel blinked, his father's words echoing in his mind as he pulled back to the cold reality of the present. He exhaled slowly, feeling that grip on his heart.

"Master?" Abaddon whispered.

"I'm fine," Azzel waved his hands, turning away from the boarded-up window. "Let's keep moving."

As they walked, his mind lingered on the memory. He hadn't thought about his parents since arriving in this world. No, more like he hadn't let himself do so. They were gone, and so was he; both out of each other's reach. Dwelling on the past wouldn't bring him or them back together.

But now, in this world, he couldn't shake the emptiness left behind by their absence. The family's quiet struggle reminded him of what he had taken for granted: the warmth of home, the strength of his father's words, and the comfort of her mother's smile.

'Would they be proud of what I've become... and done?' he wondered. The thought lingered as they passed the streets, approaching the tunnel entrance.

Azzel noticed the earth resonating underneath where his senses pointed him to a pile of rotten wooden planks emanating a heavy smell.

"There, underneath the planks," Azzel ordered. "Move them aside, silently."

Abaddon easily lifted each plank until he uncovered a large wooden manhole cover fitted perfectly on the tunnel's entrance.

"I'll go first. Master, be careful," Abaddon advised and opened the cover, jumping first to assess the situation below.

Azzel heard a loud thumping half a second later, indicating that the height was higher than expected. "How's the fall?"

"Nothing to worry about, master," Abaddon replied, his voice echoing from the underground before it reached Azzel.

"Okay," Azzel breathed deep before dropping. As he fell, he extended his hand upward, creating a small dark tendril reaching to grasp the open covering. With a subtle pull, the wooden cover closed, faintly clicking before sealing them in the darkness.

His boots sank into the soft ground, the earthy air filling his lungs. He looked around and noticed the narrower passage, the walls' inscriptions pressing closer to them.

The changes hindered their movements, yet not so much to immobilize them.

Azzel took out the map and traced their current location, guiding Abaddon with silent gestures, while his follower remained vigilant and ready to react to lurking threats.

As they moved deeper, Azzel could feel a familiar sensation welling up inside him. It gnawed his consciousness at the edge, growing stronger with each step.

'A-again?' he gasped, 'Is this entire tunnel system... cursed for me?!'

He looked up in horror, noticing the tunnels around him morphing randomly. At one moment, the walls shifted to a vast, crumbling cityscape, its skies radiating a scarlet glow where the light landed on the streets, reflecting a shadow of its past. In another, he was back at that familiar home, seated at a dining table with the faint hum of his mother's voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

The fleeting visions were vivid enough to make him gasp for breath before they vanished, leaving only the dark tunnel in his sight. Azzel's head throbbed, causing him to stumble and land his hand against the wall.

Abaddon heard the impact and turned around, surprised to see Azzel clutching his head. Flickering red lights swirled around him, almost forming like a storm.

"Ge..." Azzel gritted his teeth. "Get me out of here, quick!" His hand gripped tightly on the crumbling map.

Abaddon grabbed the map from his quivering hand and carried his master on his shoulder, dashing into another intersection ahead. His eyes shifted to the tunnel and then the map, finding the shortest route he could.

The tunnel was filled with Azzel's grunts and Abaddon's loud footsteps, attracting the attention of a nearby scouting group.

"You hear that?" a metal-armored knight asked, brandishing his sword and shield. Behind him were two men and women, all dressed in robes varying in colors glowing in the dark.

"Miss Loria, please stand behind us," a blonde-haired man advised, patting the shoulder of the woman beside him, "Something's wrong with this tunnel."

She glanced at him wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. "No, we need to leave, now!"

Her words startled their group as they stared back at her.

The blonde man's eyes fluttered, "But... the guild's contract?"

"Please forgive me, but we really need to leave. The walls, no, the spirits..." her voice faltered when the entire tunnel suddenly shook, stirring up dust and rock to fall.

The blonde man realized that the situation worsened. He shouted at his colleagues and Liora, "Run!"

The group dashed to the nearest exit, abandoning further tunnel exploration. Meanwhile, Abaddon smashed through the rocks and burst through the final opening, the sun's warm glow rushing to meet him. He paused, his chest heavy as he looked back at the collapsing tunnel. His eyes moved up, observing the crumbling wall towering above it. Countless shouts and alarms rang, reminding him to leave the area before others could see them.

"Master, we're out!" Abaddon rejoiced, patting the back of his master. "Master...?"