The orange sky stretched endlessly above him, casting an eerie glow over the jagged ruins and scattered bones that littered the ground. The desolate landscape of the Netherworld seemed to go on forever, a stark reminder of the constant, oppressive presence of death that weighed heavily in this place. Even the air felt thick, as though it was saturated with an ancient malevolence that had lingered long before Derek's arrival.
Derek's breath remained steady, his muscles still taut from the fight with the Nether Hounds. His grip on Night Fang never faltered, the blade's weight a familiar comfort as he wiped the black blood from its edge. The once-gleaming steel, now stained, hummed with a strange resonance, almost as if it too had tasted the blood of these creatures and absorbed their essence.
The last of the hounds lay crumpled at his feet, its molten blood pooling into the cracked earth. Derek didn't look back, though he could feel the weight of the recent battle in his body. His muscles ached, but there was a new edge to his movements—a sharpness that hadn't been there before. The increase in his abilities, thanks to the Dog Serial Killer boost, had been far more than just a physical transformation. It was as if his very essence had fused with the energy of the Netherworld itself, turning him into a more lethal weapon with every fight.
The days in the Netherworld dragged on, stretching into an endless cycle of brutality and silence. Derek had long since lost track of time, his only markers being the occasional surge of power from his leveling up and the ticking timer on his system screen.
The orange sky remained constant, its sickly hue a reminder that no matter how many beasts he slew, no matter how much he leveled up, the Netherworld itself remained untouched by his progress. The desolate landscape, littered with bones and ancient ruins, showed no sign of change. There was no sign of the Netherworld Flower either. The goal that had once seemed so tangible now felt distant and elusive.
Derek's footsteps crunched against the dry earth as he made his way through yet another barren stretch of land. He had grown accustomed to the oppressive air, the low hum of death that seemed to vibrate beneath his skin. His body had adjusted to the constant combat and harsh conditions, but the strain of endless fighting had begun to wear on him.
His Dog Serial Killer boost was still active, its effects becoming more ingrained in his being as time passed. His strength, speed, and senses had all improved dramatically. He had learned to harness his power with a precision he hadn't thought possible. But despite his growing prowess, there was no sign of the Netherworld Flower.
With each passing day, his hope of finding it grew thinner, replaced by the gnawing sense that he was simply being toyed with by fate—or perhaps by the very realm itself.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing forward as he continued his trek through the endless ruins. His grip on Night Fang was firm, the blade's resonance humming with a familiar tune. The more he used it, the more it seemed to adapt, as though the blade itself was becoming attuned to the Netherworld's chaotic energy.
Derek had encountered dozens of new creatures during his search. Giant scorpions with armour-like exoskeletons, shadowy wraiths that could melt into the ground, and massive serpents that slithered beneath the earth's surface, striking without warning. He had fought them all, gaining experience, leveling up, and growing stronger. But the Netherworld Flower remained elusive, a distant memory that seemed further out of reach with each passing day.
At this point, his strategy was simple: survive, level up, and hope the flower would reveal itself when the time was right. His usage of Fast Steps' ability had evolved, allowing him to move with even greater speed, and his combat skills were sharper than ever. His Mana Echo had become a more versatile tool, enabling him to weaken and disorient his enemies with greater ease. But these abilities, while useful, couldn't change the fact that the Netherworld Flower was nowhere to be found.
He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the familiar, predatory glow of another Nether Beast creeping up behind him. But the landscape was empty, silent, as it always was. The occasional rustle of wind through the bones was the only sound that broke the silence. Derek had learned to rely on his senses in this place, and they told him there was nothing nearby, for now.
He sighed, his breath coming in a long, slow exhale. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his mind sharp. The monotony of constant battle and endless searching was starting to erode his focus. He couldn't let it, though. He couldn't afford to slip.
"Focus," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Just keep going."
His eyes scanned the horizon again, the bones of fallen beasts and ancient ruins stretching as far as the eye could see. The path ahead seemed to hold no promise. But Derek knew one thing: giving up wasn't an option.
As if on cue, the ground beneath him trembled. Derek froze, his hand immediately going to the hilt of Night Fang. He could feel the vibrations beneath the earth, a subtle tremor that sent a ripple of unease through his chest. His senses flared as he reached out, trying to determine the source.