Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 109: Shelter in The Hollow

The cavern mouth was barely visible until they stood before it — a jagged split in the stone ridge, overgrown with sickly vine and bone-white fungus. Wind whistled through it like a whisper of teeth, but Ian felt no presence inside.

Not yet.

"It’s empty," he said without looking back.

The swordsman grunted. "How can you tell?"

"I’d be able to hear it breathe."

They said nothing to that. Just followed him inside.

The cavern sloped downward, dry underfoot but streaked in strange, dark moss. A natural hollow, half-devoured by time.

Its ceilings reached higher than expected, the air still and stale. Bones littered the far corner — old, brittle, not human.

The woman raised her staff. "It’ll do."

The swordsman swept the entrance with a practiced gaze, then began placing rune wards.

Simple perimeter sigils — defensive, not offensive.

The support mage followed, murmuring incantations under his breath, fingers glowing with arcane blue.

Ian didn’t help. freewebnσvel.cøm

He sat near the wall, just far enough to see the mouth of the cavern.

The others noticed, of course.

The fire-haired woman watched him from the corner of her eye, her fingers lingering near the neck of her staff.

The mage whispered something to the swordsman — Ian didn’t catch it, but the glance they exchanged was enough.

They didn’t trust him. Not entirely.

But they feared him more.

He could live with that.

"So," the swordsman said, finally breaking the silence, "if you’re heading to the First Descent... what faction are you from?"

"I’m not."

That caught them off guard.

The woman frowned. "You’re not sponsored?"

"No faction. No crest. No backers." Ian’s voice was flat. "Just me."

The mage furrowed his brow. "Then how’d you make it into the Reach? The gates are sealed except to sanctioned entrants and oathbound Subjugators."

"I have my ways."

"Which are?"

"None of your business."

A stretch of silence followed.

The wind howled just outside the mouth of the cave, brushing dust across the stone. For a moment, none of them spoke. They just sat — strangers sharing space, waiting out the coming dark.

Eventually, the support mage broke the silence.

"I’m Loras."

The swordsman gave him a flat look. "What are you doing?"

"Introducing myself," Loras muttered.

"We don’t need to know his name."

"We might," the woman said, her tone cautious, but not hostile. "He did save us."

Ian didn’t lift his eyes. "Ian."

He saw it, the slight flinch from the swordsman upon hearing the name.

She nodded once. "Selene."

The swordsman hesitated. Then sighed.

"Dain."

Loras gave a faint smile. "Well. That’s better. At least now we’ll know what to call you if we’re all screaming in the dark later."

"Comforting," Selene muttered.

Ian leaned back against the stone and let the faint hum of wards fill the silence. He stared toward the cave’s entrance, watching the last threads of that sickly pale light fade into nothingness.

The Reach’s night was not like the world’s.

It came without stars.

Without moon.

Without time.

Just a creeping, quiet hush... and the promise that something watched from beyond.

"How long until the light returns?" he asked.

"Ten hours," Loras said, tone grim. "Sometimes longer. Depending on the Riftwinds."

"I atill find ir odd you randomly found us, and happen to be going the same way as us," Selene asked.

Dain looked up. "Still expecting us to believe that’s a coincidence?"

Ian’s voice didn’t change.

"I don’t care what you believe."

Selene studied him.

"You’re not from the Imperial City."

"No."

"Then where?"

"Nowhere that matters, to you."

"You fight like a bloodforged Champion."

Ian said nothing. He thought of the demon. Of its shriek as Kael’sythra had torn through it — not just flesh, but will.

Its final scream had not been of pain, but despair.

That was what his fire had become now — not merely a blaze, but a devourer of spirit.

"You used something back there," Loras said suddenly, voice quieter than before. "Something off. That wasn’t ordinary spellfire."

Ian looked at him.

And Loras flinched — just slightly.

"What is it?" He asked.

Ian paused.

Then: "A fire that doesn’t burn the body first."

Selene’s mouth tightened.

Dain muttered something under his breath.

"You’re wielding cursed flame."

"No," Ian said calmly. "I’m wielding something far worse."

They didn’t ask further. And Ian didn’t offer.

The silence settled heavier after that, broken only by the distant groaning of wind against stone.

Occasionally, the ground vibrated — not from footsteps, but from something deeper. The shifting of the Reach itself, as if it breathed in its sleep.

"I heard," Loras said, his voice hesitant again, "that the tournament this year isn’t like before."

"No," Dain muttered. "It isn’t."

"They’ve opened the lower tiers," Selene said. "For the first time in decades."

Ian glanced up. "Lower tiers?"

"The ancient levels," she explained. "Before the arenas were brought to the surface. Back when the Descent Trials were fought in the true Hellscape, not the sanctioned rings."

"They’ve cleared one of the old labyrinths," Dain added. "They’re calling it the Maw."

Ian’s gaze narrowed.

The Maw.

He’d heard of it in whispers from forbidden scrolls. A place where even gods feared to linger. A depth carved not by mortal hand, but by something older.

"They say it eats mana," Selene continued. "And that the ones who survive it... don’t come back normal."

Ian’s voice was flat.

"Then it’s the perfect place."

The others stared at him.

But before they could speak, a sound cut through the cavern.

A low knocking.

Rhythmic.

Not from the entrance.

From beneath them.

Everyone went still.

Ian’s eyes flicked toward the far wall.

Again: knock. Knock. Knock.

Like a fist wrapped in ancient flesh, pounding at a door no one had built.

"What is that?" Loras whispered.

"Something that smells shelter," Ian said, already rising to his feet. "Help me collapse the far tunnel. Now."

Dain didn’t argue. He moved.

Selene raised her hands. "I’ll seal it."

Ian turned, his boots slapping hard against the stone as he reached the source of the noise.

The far end of the cave.

A smaller crevice behind a half-collapsed wall. He could see faint runes — old ones — carved into the edge.

Ward marks. Long faded.

Whatever was beneath them had once been sealed in.

Not kept out.

Selene raised both hands, mana flaring white-hot.

The stone cracked — split — fell.

The entrance sealed with a thunderous collapse.

The noise stopped.

But Ian felt it still.

Waiting.

Lurking.

"They’ll be drawn to that," he muttered, eyes still locked on the wall. "In the dark. They’ll hear it too."

"Then we move at first light," Dain said grimly.

"No." Ian’s voice was colder now. "We move before the light. The longer we stay in one place, the closer they come."

"Go in the darkness? I knew you were trying to get us killed," Dain exclaimed.

Selene gave him a long look.

"What the hell are you really here for, Ian?"

He didn’t answer.

The whisper that had called his name.

Something below the Maw.

Something waiting to remember him.