Episode 3: Whispers from the Deep

"Hero Department, please proceed to the Main Hall of Light. Raid and Logistics Department, please proceed to Sub-Level 4."

The mechanical voice from the PA system sounded cheerful when announcing the Hero Department's destination, but suddenly shifted to a flat, monotonous tone when mentioning the Raid Department.

Arkan separated from the glittering crowd of white uniforms. Along with about fifty other students in black tactical uniforms, he descended a dimly lit concrete staircase. There was no red carpet here. The further down they went, the colder and damper the air felt. The smell of hospital antiseptic mixed with the scent of rusting metal hung in the air.

Sub-Level 4 wasn't a hall. It was an underground bunker with steel walls half a meter thick.

At the front of the room stood the heavily scarred man who had previously watched Arkan from the balcony. He wore a rumpled suit, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and a clove cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips—completely ignoring the academy's strict no-smoking rules.

"Sit," the man's voice was raspy, like two rough stones grinding together.

The Raid students quickly took their seats on the cold iron chairs. They looked tense. Most of them were kids from ordinary backgrounds who had failed the high-level combat aptitude exams.

"My name is Vance," the man extinguished his cigarette against his own bare palm without blinking. Tsssh. "I am the Head of the Raid Department. And there is no welcome speech for you."

Vance paced back and forth in front of them like an old wolf. "You probably think you're here to be the heroes behind the scenes. To be the ones gathering materials, paving the way, and making sure the Golden-Armored Young Masters up there can shine on television. Right?"

A few students nodded hesitantly.

"Bullshit," Vance spat on the floor. "The official Guilds and the Government are lying to the public. They say Gates are a blessing, a resource mine gifted by the universe to humanity."

Vance leaned forward, his dark eyes staring directly at the students. "A Gate is not a mine. A Gate is a rotting wound. And you, the Raid Department... you are the maggots sent to eat the pus."

A chilling silence enveloped the room. Arkan didn't move, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

He knows, Arkan thought.

"The Heroes up there deal with sterilized monsters and stabilized Cores," Vance continued. "But you? Your job is to enter the zones where the boundary between our reality and the Abyss begins to thin. You won't die from a Goblin's claws. You'll die from..." Vance smiled grimly. "...madness."

Arkan looked down, staring at his left palm hidden inside his pants pocket. The same hand he used to crush the rotting Hobgoblin core this morning.

Ever since he walked out of the Dead Zone, Arkan had felt something was wrong. His palm wasn't just burning. Beneath the skin, his veins occasionally throbbed with a pitch-black hue. And every time it throbbed, Arkan could hear a whisper.

A very faint whisper, as if coming from the bottom of the deepest ocean. A language incomprehensible to human reason, yet somehow, Arkan’s soul understood its meaning: Hunger.

What a beautiful fantasy world, Arkan thought cynically. They think magic is holy energy. When in reality, it's poison from another dimension.

When the collapsing Gate nearly swallowed him this morning, Arkan realized one thing that made his blood run cold. The blue tear in the air didn't just close. It blinked. Like a giant eye staring at him before shutting.

"For your first orientation test," Vance's voice shattered Arkan's thoughts. The scarred man kicked open a large metal crate beside him.

Inside the crate sat a chunk of purplish-red monster flesh that was still pulsing slowly, emitting a thin black mist that made the air around them feel heavy and suffocating.

A few students in the front row instantly went pale. Some covered their mouths, holding back nausea.

"This is a contaminated Troll Heart from a C-Rank Gate," Vance said coldly. "The surrounding mana has been tainted by Abyssal corruption. Your task is simple."

Vance pointed at the chunk of flesh.

"Step up, touch this heart for five seconds without losing your sanity, and return to your seat. If you pass out, cry, or start rambling... you'll be expelled from Apex today."

Vance swept his gaze across the room, and for some reason, his eyes locked perfectly with Arkan's. The man's predatory smile returned.

"Who wants to go first?"

Arkan let out a long breath. He pulled his hand out of his pocket. The black veins in his palm throbbed, as if responding to the black mist of the Troll Heart. Not with fear, but with thirst.

Arkan stood up from his chair. The iron seat let out a loud squeak, breaking the silence.

"I'll do it," Arkan said flatly, walking forward with a calm stride as if he were just strolling to a vending machine.

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Author's Note:

Slowly but surely, the dark side of the Abyssal Raider world is being revealed! It's not just about hacking and slashing monsters; there's a massive mystery and madness waiting behind the Gates. How will Arkan handle this Abyssal corruption test? Leave your thoughts in the comments and don't forget to add this to your library!

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