Part 3
The ascent was constant, but never hurried.
Yamato advanced with steady steps, each conquered level a silent affirmation of his existence.
At his side, Seiryu followed in silence, alert to any irregularities in the Fossa's distorted corridors.
The upper floors offered no mercy.
The architecture changed with every stretch: hallways of pulsing stone, chambers that beat like sleeping hearts, tunnels where time seemed to twist upon itself.
And in all of them, Yamato's very presence altered reality.
In one such corridor, spectral creatures emerged from the walls, dragging with them stolen voices of fallen souls.
Yamato didn't stop. He raised his hand, and the swarm responded instantly: black spikes unfolded like an organic trap, disintegrating the apparitions before they could even touch the ground.
Nothing that imitated life had the right to breathe near him.
"Floor 792," Seiryu announced, as the nanobots projected a floating set of suspended data.
"Detection of residual magical echoes. Archaic magic. Most likely divine repulsion seals."
"Relevance?"
"None, my lord. Merely symbolic."
"Then I'll destroy them, but preserve the information. It may prove useful… later."
The swarm slid along the walls like living ink, erasing runes and glyphs with surgical precision.
The world's system still resisted, but its efforts were… pathetic.
On Floor 789, they found a coliseum suspended in the void, floating like a forgotten relic.
The stands were empty, covered in dust and silence, while statues of ancient warriors gazed down at them with immortal disdain.
Yamato didn't spare them a glance.
Seiryu, however, paused for a moment.
"This place was built to test the strength of those who descend," he murmured, as if recalling memories not his own.
"Shall we cross it?"
"What kind of question is that?" Yamato replied, without even turning. "Destroy them. I don't have time for games."
Seiryu nodded silently.
He raised his hand, and his will manifested as an invisible force that shattered the statues one by one.
Those stone guardians—symbols of glory—crumbled like sandcastles before the tide of the Void.
They continued forward without a word.
On Floor 883, reality itself began to fracture.
Staircases hung in impossible directions, the floor vanished and returned with each blink. The Fossa, aware of their presence, was beginning to collapse under the weight of the inevitable.
Seiryu ran a quick scan.
"Unstable environment. Minimal risk. Suggestion: plane decompression."
Yamato nodded. He extended his hand, and a sphere of nanobots floated outward, pulsing gently like an artificial heart.
Within seconds, the environment adjusted itself.
Geometry established.
Logic restored.
Path cleared.
He who rewrites does not adapt.
He makes the world adapt to him.
Upon reaching Floor 828, a door of pure bronze blocked their way.
Inlaid with symbols of a forgotten religion, its very presence was so dense that even Seiryu frowned.
"It demands a clean soul to proceed. A divine judgment."
"Then it will be a problem for the gods," Yamato murmured, placing his palm against the metallic surface.
Hidden lines of code unfolded instantly under his touch.
He read them, analyzed them… and rewrote them.
"Clean soul" was replaced with "Unquestionable will."
The door opened without a single creak.
Beyond it, a floating platform awaited.
At its center, an obsidian-black elevator slowly began to activate, as if awakening from centuries of slumber.
They ascended.
During the ride, the nanobots coated the interior walls, forming a ring of sensors and screens.
Schematics of upcoming floors, environmental data, and unclassified anomalies scrolled past them.
Yamato absorbed the information in silence, processing it as naturally as breathing.
Seiryu watched him, alert.
"We're nearing Floor Eight Hundred," he reported as the elevator slowed.
"My lord, it might be wise to take a break. We've purged one hundred ninety-eight floors without pause, and the swarms are still processing residual data from each level."
The place they reached didn't look like a battlefield, a temple, or a trap.
It was vast, dry, serene.
A safe zone… at least for them.
With Yamato's mere presence, even a dragon's nest would have turned into a peaceful refuge.
Seiryu descended first.
With a gesture, his telekinetic magic moved floating stones, cleared the area, and raised a basic structure.
He prepared something resembling a campfire, using resources stored in his personal space.
From his inventory, he retrieved the bodies of a pair of rabbit-like creatures, already skinned and ready to cook.
The fire crackled gently.
The meat sizzled slowly, releasing a warm aroma that, despite the harsh surroundings, carried a strange sense of improvised home.
Yamato sat in silence, gaze fixed on the flames.
His expression was serene… but distant.
As if he wasn't alone in his mind.
As if he were speaking to something—or someone—that no other could see.
"Forgive my boldness, my lord," Seiryu said after several minutes of reverent silence, "but… what are your plans once we leave this place? I can't help but think that if you truly wished, we would already be on the surface. Your power surpasses all logic."
Yamato slowly turned his head. His eyes, this time, didn't glow.They looked calm. Almost human.
"Now I understand why Nebel spoke well of you," he said quietly. "You're more perceptive than you let on."
Seiryu bowed in gratitude without breaking posture.
"You're right," Yamato continued.
"I already possess the power of a black hole… The power of Nebel'Zar. The final boss of the Pit."
"Is that truly possible?" Seiryu asked, unable to fully conceal his awe. "Has he fused with you? The god of the Void?"
"Let's say it's a collaboration," Yamato replied as a bluish spark ran along his scythe.
"He leaves this prison. I get my revenge. We are not master and servant… we are allies with common goals."
Seiryu lowered his gaze, thoughtful.
He now understood the true weight of that weapon:
It wasn't just a symbol.
It was the living extension of two overlapping wills.
"Then… the Nulvoid… what is their purpose?"
Yamato stood.n His eyes fixed on the darkness surrounding the safe zone. His voice lowered, deep and resolute.
"To correct this world."
A pause…
The fire cast dancing shadows across his face.
"I want to see the Kingdom of Valdheim fall," Yamato said darkly. "I want the false heroes who betrayed me to beg for a swift death…"
He fell silent for a few seconds, letting the crackling of the fire emphasize his words.
"And when all has collapsed, I will rebuild this world without the errors of the past."
Seiryu remained silent but his eyes said everything.
He understood now, with clarity.
He wasn't before a conqueror, nor a god… but a force born from the abyss.
A new order that didn't ask for approval.
Only obedience.
"Then… as the first of the Nulvoid, and your first Herald," he said at last, solemnly, "I shall carry your will to the ends of the world."
"I expect no less," Yamato replied with a slight nod. "After all, you are the first of my heralds…
and you must lead the rest."
Silence enveloped them again, accompanied only by the sound of meat roasting and the fire slowly dying.
"And you're right," Yamato added more reflectively.
"We could have left long ago… but Nebel asked me to gather an army. According to him, there are other Herald candidates hidden within these thousand floors."
Seiryu lifted his head, intrigued.
"Others like me?"
"Yes.Beings who are bound, forgotten, condemned to exile. Not all will survive the trial. But those who do… will earn their freedom."
Yamato stood.
The scythe on his back vibrated, as if responding to his resolve.
"It's time to free those trapped in darkness," he declared, as the fire extinguished on its own, obeying his will.
"The Heralds… the Nulvoid… The Void will give them purpose."
Seiryu nodded firmly, still standing beside the smoldering embers.
Yamato took a piece of rabbit meat and bit into it.
His face twisted slightly—not from pain… but from disgust.
"This crap has no taste," he said flatly. Still, he kept eating.
"I'm sorry, my lord… I…" Seiryu murmured, a subtle note of concern in his voice.
But Yamato didn't reply.
He chewed slowly, as if doing so was more a duty than a need.
It wasn't the food.
Nothing had flavor anymore.
Even the act of eating tasted like hatred.
"I wonder if the rest of life's pleasures will be just as empty… or if, like this meat, they'll taste only of ashes."
"Don't worry. We'll have a proper feast once we reach the surface," he added, finishing his portion before rising to his feet.
"Let's go. We've wasted enough time," he murmured, walking away from the camp.
"I'm eager to meet the boss of Floor 799."
"Yes, my lord."
As they walked, the shadows recoiled.
The silence—once absolute—was broken by the echo of their footsteps.
Far above, something more than an enemy awaited.
A queen without a throne. A remnant of a cursed bloodline.
And the Void… was hungry.