CHAPTER 56: SERAPHS HOLLOW

"What the hell are we doing here again?" Fenric growled, scratching violently at his silver hair, claws raking through it like he was digging for treasure-or trouble.

"Can you not fling your fleas everywhere, you deranged mutt?" Eri snapped, smacking his hand away with a sharp glare.

Fenric’s eyes narrowed. "Who you calling mutt, you rat-faced banshee?"

They were nose to nose now, practically vibrating with the urge to kill each other. Again.

Lucy sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Gods... It’s like babysitting two rabid toddlers."

He stepped between them and pointed to the massive, rune-etched teleportation pods glowing softly nearby. "Focus. We’re here to recruit our sixth and final team member. And the only way to reach them is through those."

The pods were colossal—spherical capsules forged from shimmering crystal and dark steel, humming with quiet, arcane energy. Normally reserved for Giants, the pods allowed them to traverse the palace without wrecking the smaller corridors. But on rare occasions—like today—they could pierce through reality itself, connecting to Seraphine’s pocket realms, realms where only the gods walked freely.

That’s where they were headed.

Llarm shifted nervously, his tail flicking behind him. "Where exactly are we going that needs teleportation?"

Lucy raised a brow. "Don’t tell me the mighty hero’s scared of a little adventure."

Llarm let out a shaky laugh and scratched the back of his head. "Pfft—no, of course not. I’m just exhausted from all the hero-ing. You know how it is. Saving the world. Daily cardio."

Gindu crossed his thick arms, eyes gleaming. "I, for one, am thrilled. May our opponent be a mighty wyrmling with fire in its breath and fury in its soul!"

Fenric smirked, still scratching absently at his neck. His voice dropped to a low rasp. "Oh, it’ll be something alright. Anyone locked away in a pocket dimension is either dangerously powerful or straight-up evil."

His grin widened, eyes flashing.

"Either way, this is gonna be fun."

Eri muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "Psychotic dog."

"All right, everyone, into the pod," Lucy said, tapping a button on the control panel.

With a soft hiss, the glass door of the massive pod slid open.

Eri and Llarm both groaned, but said nothing as they stepped forward. Eri crossed her arms like she was being dragged to a funeral. Llarm looked like he’d rather teleport into a volcano.

Gindu marched in with the confidence of a man heading to a feast. Fenric followed with an eager grin, tail flicking behind him. Lucy entered last, muttering, "You’d think we were off to die, not just scouting a teammate."

Inside, a sleek touchscreen lit up before them, displaying a rotating list of destinations in soft blue light. Lucy began swiping through them.

"True Gods Tunnel?" he muttered, squinting. ’That sounds like either a cosmic highway or a death sentence.’

He kept scrolling.

Then the name appeared.

Seraph’s Hollow.

Something about it made the air feel colder. The letters seemed to carry weight. Ominous, ancient.

Lucy stared for a beat longer than he meant to.

Then he tapped it.

The door sealed shut with a mechanical thunk, and the pod’s interior lights dimmed to a moody gold.

A calm, synthetic voice echoed around them:

"Destination confirmed: Seraphine’s Hollow.

Teleportation in 5... 4..."

Lucy smirked to himself. ’Who knows? Maybe it’ll be all sunshine and rainbows.’

But his gut said otherwise.

"3... 2..."

He gripped the side rail as the air thickened with rising arcane pressure.

"1."

And the world vanished.

The pod shuddered as the countdown hit zero.

A flash of white swallowed the cabin, and for a moment, Lucy felt like he was floating, weightless, lost between breaths. Then, with a sharp pop, the world snapped back into focus.

The pod doors opened with a hiss.

No one spoke.

Outside was silence—and majesty twisted with sorrow.

An endless field of silver grass waved in an unseen breeze. Bone-white trees arched overhead, their translucent leaves catching the twilight glow of a violet-gold sky. The light was soft but clung to everything like dust, unmoving and old.

Cracked marble statues loomed throughout the field, each larger than life, worn by time and moss. Some were warriors. Some were children. All were broken.

Fenric stepped out first. "...Okay. This is either a divine sanctuary or a graveyard for gods."

Gindu followed, eyes glowing. "It is beautiful. I can feel the mana in the air. Like a lullaby."

Eri’s nose twitched. "It smells like decay wrapped in perfume."

Lucy stepped out and felt the grass chime faintly beneath his boots.

He glanced around. "Yeah. Definitely not sunshine and rainbows."

Behind them, Llarm hesitated at the pod door, eyes scanning the eerie stillness. "Are we... sure this place is safe?"

Lucy smirked. "Nope. But I bet the last guy who asked that question became one of those statues."

Llarm groaned and stepped out, muttering, "That’s not comforting."

Suddenly, a low, distant hum pulsed through the ground. The air shifted, colder now. The trees seemed to lean inward just slightly, their whispering leaves brushing against each other like gossiping ghosts.

Fenric grinned, canines showing. "Ooh. I think something knows we’re here."

Eri placed a hand on her dagger. "Let’s hope it’s not hungry."

Lucy’s eyes landed on a crumbling altar ahead, half-swallowed by vines and etched with the thorned sigil of Seraphine. Beyond it, the silver grass parted into a narrow path of cracked stone leading into the fog.

He pointed.

"There. If we’re going to find the Ogre, that’s the direction it’ll be in."

Gindu sharpened his blue scales. "Let us walk with reverence. This place feels sacred."

"Sacred and cursed aren’t that far apart," Lucy murmured. "Let’s move."

The group stepped forward, the leaves whispering louder now, as if Seraph’s Hollow had noticed them.

And was waiting.

Lucy’s squad had been walking for what felt like hours along the narrowing stone path, now swallowed by a thick, choking fog. The once violet-gold sky had darkened into a suffocating violet-black void above them—no stars, no moon, just a ceiling of quiet dread.

Lucy led the group, his hand on his sword hilt. Behind him, Llarm clung to his black jacket like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. Fenric and Eri moved in silence behind them, unusually quiet. Gindu brought up the rear, his usual cheer muted beneath furrowed brows.

The fog had weight now. It pressed against their skin, thick and moist like the breath of a dying beast. It dulled sound, turning footsteps into whispers. Even the squelch of boots on moss-cracked stone felt distant.

Lucy’s instincts screamed. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He stopped abruptly.

Llarm bumped into him, letting out a startled yelp. "S-Sorry!"

The rest of the group froze.

Eri’s voice sliced through the quiet. "What now?"

Lucy didn’t respond immediately. His eyes scanned the fog, trying to pierce it, but the world beyond a few feet was drowned in soupy darkness. The silence was too clean. Too manufactured.

"You don’t feel it?" Lucy muttered. "Like we’re being watched?"

"I felt that the moment we got here," Llarm whispered, his voice cracking. "And it’s only gotten worse."

Fenric let out a low chuckle. "Oh, we’re not the ones in danger."

He bared his teeth in a grin too wide to be sane.

"Whatever’s watching us through this fog? That’s what should be afraid."

"Llarm," Lucy said sharply, "move your air around us. Tell me if anything’s out there."

Llarm nodded without question. Over the last month, Lucy’s leadership had become second nature to them.

The elf raised his arm and whispered to the wind.

A faint swirl stirred around their feet, climbing into the fog like invisible threads probing the mist.

Silence.

Llarm’s brow furrowed. "Nothing. Not a breeze out of place. It’s like the fog is swallowing my air."

Lucy gritted his teeth.

Something was there. He knew it in his bones.

And then—

A whisper of movement to his left.

The fog rustled—not with wind, but with purpose. It peeled back like a curtain.

A humanoid shape stepped from the mist—tall, cloaked in fog, its form shifting like smoke in a broken mirror. Its eyes were hollow, its body half-formed, yet it raised a sword as real as steel.

It came down in a blur.

Lucy was faster.

With a shout, he stepped forward and slashed. His blade tore through the fog-clad warrior like wet paper, cleaving it in two.

But the victory lasted less than a breath.

The fog churned where the warrior had fallen. It swirled, hissed, and then

Reattached.

The figure reformed instantly and vanished into the mist without a sound.

Lucy’s blood ran cold.

"What the hell..."

Then the fog stirred again.

Fifty shapes emerged in unison—silent, spectral warriors, each forged from the mist itself. They raised their weapons in the gloom, faces featureless, eyes dark as voids.

Eri’s hand flew to her daggers.

Gindu raised his arms.

Llarm took a shaky breath.

Fenric grinned wider.

Lucy raised his sword again, the pale light of Seraph’s Hollow dancing along the blade.

"Company’s here," he muttered.

And the fog screamed.