The mural depicting the events following the birth of eternal darkness and the origin of the Black Sea was confusing and deteriorated by the passage of time. The illustrations, once clear, were now broken, cracked, and covered with deep fissures, making it difficult to fully understand the story.
Even so, Grey could make out what the murals were trying to convey.
The first of the last three murals was in better condition than the others. It showed seven figures surrounding a body completely consumed by darkness. Grey immediately recognized the being with the wound in its open chest; its remains seemed empty, as if all its power had faded after being released from that mortal wound.
'The Nephilim's remains,' Grey thought as he examined the scene.
The seven figures surrounding it appeared blurred and corroded, as if time had eroded their details. However, some characteristics were still distinguishable: one figure wielded a war hammer, another held a ghostly spear, while a third, the clearest, wore a long cloak, giving them a stealthy and menacing appearance.
These seven figures took the remains of the celestial being and vanished, leaving the crater empty. It was as if a powerful entity had never existed in that place.
'Why would they want the body of a Nephilim? The power it once held has already vanished along with what was released from its wound… So why take it?' Grey wondered, unsettled.
Determined to find answers, he took another step towards the next mural, observing it closely.
Unfortunately, this mural was in worse condition. Most of the images were blurry and fragmented, destroyed by the passage of time. What little remained intact showed glimpses of what happened with the celestial being's body and the seven individuals who took it.
In the still-recognizable fragments, Grey could see the seven figures passing through a gigantic tunnel, led by the bearer of the war hammer. The other six cautiously guarded the Nephilim's corpse, as if protecting it from some invisible danger or the mysteries the tunnel held.
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Other broken fragments seemed to depict a struggle between the seven figures and a colossal worm, much larger than any creature Grey had ever seen before.
'A Tyrant? Perhaps this worm was the progenitor of all those that infest these tunnels,' he thought.
With a mix of frustration and hope, Grey examined the other fragments, searching for clues about what occurred before or after the battle. But his efforts were in vain; most of the painting was completely destroyed, erased by time and fissures.
'Damn it…' he muttered.
With a sigh of resignation, he moved towards the next section of the mural, finding what he expected: a mural destroyed at its edges and almost to the center, where only a fragment of the story remained intact.
Grey focused his attention on that single fragment, his eyes burning with intensity, as if trying to absorb every detail of the blurred image.
It showed the Nephilim's body, now completely dark and lifeless, suspended in the center of a runic circle. Shackles connected to chains held its hands in the air, keeping its inert body in a solemn posture.
Unlike the other murals, this fragment was carved with such precision that it seemed to radiate an aura of sanctity. Grey felt a chill, as if the majesty of the celestial being could still be perceived through the painting.
"Fascinating…" he whispered without realizing it, his voice breaking the sepulchral silence. The attention to detail in that scene had captivated him completely.
He stood there, motionless, admiring the painting's beauty, which had endured for millennia, surviving the tests of time. The portrait of the holy being had defied all odds, preserving its essence for those who knew how to appreciate it.
Perhaps it had waited all that time for another Nephilim's soul to witness what the artist had captured.
After a long while, Grey tore his gaze from the mural and turned towards a hallway extending to his right, wrapped in impenetrable darkness.
'The fallen light no longer reaches beyond this point,' he reflected.
He knew his vision spell could be activated only once after each invocation, and he had limited time before he could use it again. At first, that restriction had seemed absurd, but over time he had come to accept it.
Determined, he deactivated the spell, and the natural darkness of those depths engulfed him completely, clouding his vision.
'I suppose I'll have to create light myself,' he thought.
He extended his hand, and Odyssey appeared in his palm soon after. Grey closed his eyes and let the light flow from his hands, transferring it to Odyssey, which soon began to shine like a lantern of pure light, dispelling the darkness several meters around him.
For a moment, the light he had created blinded him, and his eyes took a moment longer to adjust after spending so much time immersed in darkness.
Seeing through the darkness created by the fallen light and seeing with the real light of his aspect were entirely different experiences. In the first, colors appeared muted or blurred, as if a permanent shadow enveloped them. But with real light, everything was different—more tangible, more vivid.
In battles, Grey had grown accustomed to relying solely on his "defense mode," as Sara called it, using his bestial aspect. That way, he avoided the bother of having to readjust to the light, which, in the midst of combat, could be a fatal inconvenience.
'What am I thinking about now?' he scolded himself, shaking his head to dispel unnecessary thoughts. With cautious eyes, he directed his attention to the dark hallway faintly lit by Odyssey's light.
A chill ran down his spine as he sensed something, a familiar presence that awakened old instincts in his mind.
'It can't be… Is he still…?' he thought, letting out a long sigh to calm his breathing and steady the frantic beat of his heart. Despite his doubt, he moved forward, taking one step, then another, venturing into the narrow corridor.
With each step, that familiar and mysteriously alluring sensation intensified, as if an invisible force was pushing him forward, drawing him further and further in. As he ventured deeper into the hallway, Grey noticed a change: the darkness seemed to strengthen, and his field of vision began to shrink. Odyssey's light, once capable of illuminating several meters around him, now struggled against an increasingly dense shadow.
He noticed something else alarming: the hallway walls were narrowing, forcing him to bring Odyssey closer to avoid hitting the walls. The growing claustrophobia of the space, combined with the darkness devouring the light, made the atmosphere more oppressive, but he couldn't stop walking.
He didn't understand why he kept moving forward when his entire being warned him that this wouldn't lead to a pleasant destination. There was something inexplicably enticing in that feeling, something his mind couldn't fully decipher.
It was then, without warning, that he reached the end of the hallway.