Chapter 130: Chapter 130

"From the land of light, I ask for passage.

Grant me permission to the depths of the Abyss, where my Master holds dominion."

As the final words left my lips, the darkness in that corner stirred, shifting and folding in on itself. The black mass gradually aligned into the shape of a tall, foreboding door, from which dark mist began to spill into the room.

The weight of the magic could be felt even from where I stood. To any ordinary soul, this would feel like the very mouth of hell itself.

"It is done," I said, turning back toward the shaken men with a faint smile. "Now, we go in. After you."

"Wh-what?!" Valhugr shrieked, his voice cracking. "Will we even be alive after stepping through that ominous door?!"

"Lady Levina, please, lessen the punishment!" Vilskapa cried, his voice shaking as badly as his hands.

They were so rattled that they could barely move, so I walked to them, took each of their hands, and guided them forward.

The moment we crossed the threshold, darkness and silence closed in completely, swallowing us whole. It felt as if we were drifting in a boundless, black ocean with no wind and no sound.

I had not told the men, but this was a dangerous risk. If the spell had failed, we would be trapped in this state—adrift in the void—with almost no chance of returning.

Fortunately, that was not the case.

Gradually, pale light began to bleed into the darkness beneath us. The blackness thinned like dissipating smoke, and soon we were falling gently for several meters until our feet touched solid ground.

Valhugr and Vilskapa looked as if they were on the brink of death, and we had only just arrived.

"Do not start with me, you two," I said, frowning as they writhed weakly in the tall brown grass. "You should both be more than capable of withstanding this level of magic concentration."

Still, they twisted and gasped like fish thrown onto dry land.

It could not be helped, I suppose. I will save them after they actually die.

After all, death is impossible within this enclosed and isolated world.

They finally collapsed — blood seeping from their eyes and nostrils in slow, dark streams.

Perhaps I was too harsh?

The magical concentration and density here is a thousandfold greater than what exists outside this realm. It is akin to placing a human deep within a superheated, crushing sea, where oxygen is entirely absent and gravity presses down with merciless weight.

Of course, they would die.

Before waking the dwarves, I took a moment to look around, orienting myself.

"...Thank you, Platform," I murmured, a small note of appreciation for Master Raven’s manager. If she had refused me permission to enter this place, stepping through the threshold would have been no different from sealing myself away forever.

It was sunset here — the sky drenched in molten orange, the light spilling across the landscape in slow waves. Around us stretched a vast plain of knee-high brown grasses, swaying in a lazy breeze. I had never seen such grass before.

The land rolled gently with shallow curves and miniature hills, giving the impression of a place untouched for centuries. Beyond it all, far in the distance, stood a lone building — so far away it was no more than a blemish against the horizon, like a tiny stain on a pure white wall.

I turned my attention back to the dwarves, weaving basic healing magic into their bodies. In this place, even the simplest restoration spell will bring the dead back, since death here is a temporary inconvenience.

Vilskapa awoke first, sitting up with a sharp gasp. "Did... did we die?!" he exclaimed, patting himself frantically as though expecting to find something missing.

Valhugr followed, pushing himself up with a lazy grin. "Ah, so this is paradise?" he chuckled. "Pfft! So Lady Levina died too?"

"How foolish," I replied with a slight shrug. "The magic density here is certainly high, but not so overwhelming that it could kill me."

Vilskapa frowned, touching the faint shimmer clinging to his arms. "What... is this?"

Yes — they were still alive because I had wrapped them in a thin, transparent film of White Water, preventing the magic-rich atmosphere from consuming them. Without it, the ambient energy would have torn through their bodies in moments.

Left unprotected for too long, they would not only die repeatedly but risk mutating into something unrecognizable... something monstrous, born without purpose or reason.

When I looked back at the building, we had somehow drawn nearer to it.

No—if I were being precise—it had drawn nearer to us.

Vilskapa and Valhugr were visibly taken by the architecture, their eyes glimmering with admiration, and frankly, I could not fault them. The structure was colossal, its grand presence reminding me of the lower palatial complexes in the Kingdom of Orion.

The main body was flanked by sweeping side arcs that curved upward at the edges, and from its crown rose several slender, tower-like peaks, each capped with a roof of deep jade tiles that gleamed faintly under the sky.

The voice was soft yet carried a weight that made it impossible to ignore. Standing at what appeared to be the gate was a little girl with long, flowing purple hair, her fox ears flicking ever so slightly, and a fluffy tail swaying in measured rhythm behind her. Her aura pressed faintly against my senses—nearly as commanding as Tamayō’s own—and her presence was... undeniable.

She wore a beautiful kimono patterned with delicate fox icons, the silk shimmering faintly as though touched by moonlight.

"You must be Levina-sama; we have heard much about you from Haha-ue. Please, follow me."

Haha-ue? Was she speaking of Tamayō?

And that aura... it felt oddly familiar. Could Tamayō have brought her into my presence before, without my noticing? On her forehead, etched in faint silver light, was a nine-pointed sigil—precisely the one Tamayō once bore in her fox form.

"Of course," I replied with a faint smile. "I am a colleague of your mother. So... she tells stories of our adventures to her children? How adorable."

"Hehe, naturally," she giggled. "Haha-ue sings your praises and slanders you in the same breath, but we can tell she respects you deeply."

We? So there were more of her kind here? That could prove... interesting.

Ah, wait. That reminded me.

"And what is your name?" I asked as we came within arm’s reach of her.

Vilskapa tensed immediately, his hand instinctively trembling as if to steady himself. It was no too surprising to see him so openly unsettled, but the girl’s monstrous aura was unapologetically present.

Not that she needed to suppress it—after all, we were not in the open world.

"Ah, I do not possess a name," she answered with perfect composure. "Haha-ue refused to name us. She said she is... cooking up a plot to have our names bestowed by her Lord."

That scheming vermin.

I would have to secure another child with Master Raven and have him name them quickly—I refused to be outmaneuvered .

Still, if she was waiting for Master Raven to name her, I could hardly grant her a proper name. Perhaps... just a temporary one.

"It is fine then," I said lightly. "I will give you a substitute name until that time comes. Let me call you--"