Ruvian dragged himself forward deliberately; the movement was less an act of haste despite the darkness pressing in from all sides. His hands scraped over the cold, tenebrous ground as he followed a direction that existed only in his head.

Though sight had been wrenched from him, his mind clung stubbornly to the faint architecture of memory—a visionary map of where the shelter once stood, where the cruel force had hurled him into the abyss, and where, in some fragile hope, the others might still be breathing.

He understood, it was an imperfect calculus pieced together from the echo of impact and the blurs of that violent descent… but even the most tenuous conjecture was preferable to the aimless wandering in the dark.

The dull pulse throbbing behind his eyes, insistent yet muffled, like a distant drumbeat. In that quietness, he found a strange sort of calm that tethered him to the moment without demanding frantic answers.

‘I have not fallen far from the base,’ he told himself with a careful hope rather than fact.

‘The others cannot be far, not if proximity still governs this fractured space. Shima was the closest, I think.’

His thoughts drifted then to the nature of the force that struck him. It was not a simple claw or fist, but a slow sweep that evoked the ponderous grace of an elephant’s trunk. It was a movement unhurried, patient, and terrifyingly powerful. Now, in the stillness of the creeping dark, he felt a coldness seep beneath his skin persistently.

An unwelcome tide insinuates itself past the defenses of his cloak, sinking slowly into his blood. Amid the oppressive void, a subtle thought unsettled Ruvian’s carefully constructed assumptions.

‘Damn it, all of our backpacks were still there at the base—Wait… I can feel the wind out here?’

He had believed, until that moment, that this void was absolute in its voracity, an all-consuming hunger that devoured every scrap of light until not a single silhouette remained, and every whisper of sound until the air itself thickened into a stifling silence.

It was this very conviction that had led him to presume the absence of mana, believing the darkness to be not merely an absence but an erasure of all forces that might confer meaning or presence upon the senses.

Yet now, faced with the persistent caress of the wind against his skin… his understanding faltered, revealing a fissure in his perception.

If this darkness truly consumed indiscriminately, swallowing without trace or favor, how could this breath of air persist? Why had it not been stolen away, rendered as empty and hollow as the vanished light and sound?

The inconsistency lodged deep within his thoughts.

He recalled the guttural cry of the beast beyond the barrier. A sound that had traveled across the oppressive void until it shattered against their fragile shelter.

If such a savage roar could pierce this darkness, if the wind itself could still roam unbound through that suffocating blackness, then the foundation of his understanding… was flawed from its inception. He let the thought turn slowly in the quiet recesses of his mind, allowing it to settle until the conclusion emerged.

‘If the truth is unclear, then there is only one path left to take. The reason I have this mana sensitivity enchantment on this glove is for this exact reason.’

[Editorial Pen: Inspection Active]

Item Name: [Whisperveil Gloves]

Item Type: [Gear – Fingerless Gloves]

Grade: [Grade D]

Item Description:

◇ A pair of sleek, black fingerless gloves, worn and supple to the touch.

◇ Stitched with faint silver-thread seams that glimmer subtly under mana-rich light. The leather feels warm when exposed to ambient energy

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Enchantment:

◆ Mana Sensitivity +15%

— Heightens the wearer’s ability to perceive and channel ambient mana. Spells feel more responsive, and faint currents of energy can be detected with greater clarity.

Then, came the system voice.

[What attribute or detail would you like to edit?]

Ruvian immediately transferred the details through his mind.

[Custom Modifications Request: “Add Night Vision Enchantment” and “Enhance Mana Sensitivity”]

Function: [Improve Night Vision and Mana Sensitivity]

Cost to Apply Modifications: [1,400 (PP)]

‘Yes. Confirm!’

The system’s chime rang like a ripple in his skull.

[Modification Confirmed.]

[Processing Item Reconstruction…]

The gloves dissolved into motes of dim silver light, unraveling strand by strand until nothing but a faint shimmer remained cupped in his palms.

Ruvian watched as the particles folded inward, weaving themselves tighter and denser.

[Item Upgrade Complete.]

[Grade D → Grade C]

Enchantment:

◆ Mana Sensitivity +30%

◆ Night Vision (Moderate) — Allows the wearer to perceive clearly in low-light and near-total darkness.

Now, he would have to test it for himself, to reach beyond assumptions. Nothing changed much with his vision. It's still dark, but there's a faint difference around the periphery of the darkness when he looked at the ground. It showed him some shape.

He considered his options carefully.

He read about the theory using wind as an extension of his sight.

‘Time to test it out.’

Wind magic was a force of motion, an extension of intent that could manipulate the flow and direction of the air. If he could craft a slender thread of air curling just so, then perhaps it might serve as a quiet messenger, revealing truths that sight and sound could not.

He calmly reached inward, drawing on the faint remnants of mana. The air before him folded and spiralled into a small, focused stream—an ephemeral gesture hanging in the emptiness. In that suspended moment, he realized that if the darkness consumed even this subtle pulse, then its grip was absolute, an all-encompassing silence that erased all trace of existence. If it did not, if the pulse remained intact, then the veil of shadow was not absolute; it had boundaries or selective weaknesses.

Ruvian’s mind raced to reconcile what his senses had just confirmed.

‘The darkness did not swallow my wind magic outright, but instead oppressed it, constricting and diminishing its reach…’

His spell had moved, but only for a short distance before fading rapidly into the void beyond.

‘I see, so it's not a total absence, but a suffocation of power.’

It explained why mana had slipped beneath his detection—It was never gone, but it was just too weak and drowned by the pressure of the darkness, beyond what his limited ability could grasp.

‘And what of the light? If the darkness only weakened rather than erased, then surely some faint shimmer might survive—like the pale moonlight that manages to brush the edges of the night’s deepest shadows.’

But here, in this abyss, even that was lost, swallowed or bent beyond recognition.

Ruvian was not here to solve all the riddles at once; that would be a fool’s ambition. For now, it was enough to know his wind could still find a path through the dark.

He took a slow, steadying breath and began to weave another wind, smaller this time.

He sent the wind out in a slow arc, no wider than a man’s reach, then paused, watching for any hint of change or any irregularity in the cold darkness. It was like casting a line into black water, hoping for the faintest tug, a disturbance to mark presence.

‘Wait, if I send these winds one by one, like calls in a cave, I can catch a whisper back—some sign the others are near.’

Ruvian sent out the wind pulse once more, careful this time. Then, a brush past his senses from just behind him, barely a few meters away but unmistakably there.

But it was large, vast, breathing, and alive. The presence was close, so close it pressed against the edges of his awareness.

A cold jolt of dread slid through him as the truth settled in his mind with brutal clarity.

‘...But if this darkness didn’t fully swallow sound and movement, then wouldn't the creature lurking nearby sense my… mana as well?’

It wasn’t just them trapped in this void—they were being hunted, and with every pulse of wind he sent to find his friends, he was basically announcing his position to that thing as well.

‘Fuck! I’ve been blaring my location like some idiot!’

Then, the thing behind him was moving fast and sharply. But before the massive presence could close the distance, something else intercepted and took him away first.

The ground shook as a heavy impact landed a few feet away from where he had been, sending shards of dirt and grass scattering in the cold air.

Amid the chaos, a strong hand wrapped around Ruvian’s waist, yanking him up and pulling him away from the shadowed threat before it could strike.

A voice, gruff and proud, cut through the dark.

“As I thought… it’s you!”

Ruvian let out a dry, humourless laugh, the tension cracking just a little.

“Arlok? Is that you?”

A familiar, cocky voice answered with bravado and close to relief. “Who else would it be? Don’t tell me you were hoping for a ghost to save you.”

‘Seems like I got saved again.’

Together, they landed hard a few feet from the shattered earth where the beast had slammed the ground.

The darkness swallowed the distance between them once more, but for a moment, Ruvian felt the light of companionship amidst the tenebrous night.

“Good. Now, everyone is here. Time to retaliate.” Arlok said.

PP= 3000

ME= 510