"SKRIIEEEKK!!!"
The corrupt creatures shrieked as lightning burned through their malleable bodies, as wind currents carved them into sections, as the combined assault overwheld their regenerative capabilities.
Within thirty seconds, all ten entities were destroyed, their corrupted forms dispersing into harmless ambient energy.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Kaela and Jaren stared in shock at the carnage, then at their unexpected savior.
"That was..." Jaren whispered. "Those were Mid-Sequence Techniques. Multiple elents in coordinated assault. I’ve only seen Paladins execute techniques at that level."
The young man descended from the platform, his movents fluid and unhurried.
"You’re both injured," he observed, turning his attention especially to the male. "You especially. Your condition is critical. Allow ..."
He knelt beside Jaren, and his hand began glowing with soft green light that Kaela recognized as a healing technique.
"Spirit Art, Restoration Technique, Sequence #6: Vital nding."
The wound in Jaren’s side began closing, blood flow stopping as mystical energy forced damaged tissue to regenerate. It wasn’t absolute healing—that would require higher sequences—but it was sufficient to stabilize him.
No, at such a level, a complete recovery was made!
It was an amazing sight!
Jaren gasped as pain receded, his color improving noticeably.
"Thank you," he managed. "I... thank you so much."
The young man nodded, then turned his attention to Kaela.
"You’re less injured but still depleted. Rest here while I ensure the surrounding passages are clear."
He stood and began walking toward the corridor where the entities had erged.
"Wait!" Kaela called. "There could be more of them! You shouldn’t—"
"I’ll be fine," he replied simply, disappearing into the passage.
Kaela and Jaren exchanged glances, both processing what had just happened.
"He’s a Nephilim," Jaren said quietly, stating the obvious.
"I know," Kaela replied. "But he also just saved our lives. I don’t care about his heritage right now."
Sounds of combat echoed from the passage—brief, decisive, quickly concluded. Then silence.
The young man returned five minutes later, his clothing showing no signs of combat despite the sounds they’d heard.
"I found twelve more of those entities. You don’t have to worry. I eliminated them all," he reported. "The imdiate area is secure. You should be able to reach the surface without further interference."
Kaela felt tears threatening to spill.
They were going to survive.
Against all odds, they were actually going to live!
"Thank you," she said, her voice breaking. "Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay—"
"No paynt necessary," the young man interrupted gently. "I rely happened to be in the right place at the right ti."
Jaren struggled to his feet with Kaela’s help, his wound now stable enough for careful movent.
"Praise the Five Ancient Holy Gods," he breathed. "It’s a miracle. They must have sent you to save us."
The young man’s expression shifted slightly—sothing that might have been amusent.
"Perhaps," he agreed. "This dungeon does lie close to the boundary between Aether and Nether territories. If the Gods wished to intervene, this would be an appropriate location."
Kaela studied their savior more carefully now that imdiate danger had passed.
His features were refined, his bearing suggesting education and training beyond what wandering Nephilim typically possessed.
And his capabilities—Mid-Sequence techniques executed with casual precision—indicated he was far more than he appeared.
"You’re not just a random traveler," she observed. "No one explores the Dungeon of Malice alone unless they’re extrely confident in their abilities."
The young man smiled slightly. "I’m a Searcher like yourselves. Though I typically work independently rather than with teams."
"A solo Searcher?" Jaren asked, disbelief clear in his voice. "But that’s... I an, it’s technically possible, but the mortality rate—"
"Is high, yes," the young man acknowledged. "But manageable with proper preparation and capabilities."
He helped them gather what remained of their equipnt, his movents efficient and professional.
"The exit is approximately two kiloters through the passages I just cleared," he explained. "I can escort you if you’d like additional security."
"Please," Kaela said imdiately. "I don’t want to presu, but after what we just experienced... I’d feel much safer with you accompanying us."
"Of course."
They began the journey toward the surface, moving carefully through passages that still showed signs of the entities’ previous presence.
But true to the young man’s word, no further threats erged.
As they walked, Kaela found herself studying their rescuer with growing curiosity.
"I don’t an to pry," she said carefully, "but... you’re Nephilim, yet you are so strong. That’s... unusual."
The young man glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
"I was born in the border regions," he explained. "Very close to the Nether lands. Life was tough there, so I had to adapt."
"Still," Jaren interjected, "working as a Searcher must be difficult. I heard the mortality rate is higher for your kind."
"That’s only if you are weak."
"T-true. Most Nephilim mbers occupy lower ranks among Party mbers."
"Which is why I work independently," the young man replied. "I explore dungeons, recover artifacts, and sell what I find to rchants who care more about profits than my appearance."
It made sense.
Practical, self-sufficient, avoiding institutional prejudice through independence.
’Nephilims deserve our prayers because of their cursed origin and ties to Nether. But he doesn’t use Chaps Art and has a high achievent in Spirit Art. That ans he is heavily favored by the Holy Gods. In that case, he isn’t a corrupt one. He can be saved...’
After so monts of silence among the two Aether denizens, the silence was broken.
"You’re very skilled," Kaela observed. "Those techniques—Mid-Sequence execution at your age suggests either extraordinary talent or extensive training. Probably both."
The young man smiled but didn’t elaborate.
They continued in companionable silence, the tension of near-death gradually fading as safety approached.
Finally, they saw it—natural light filtering down from the dungeon’s entrance. The sight brought tears to Kaela’s eyes.
They’d survived.
Against impossible odds, against creatures that had slaughtered their entire team, they’d survived.
And it was entirely due to the mysterious Nephilim who’d appeared at exactly the right mont.
As they erged into sunlight, Kaela turned to their rescuer with gratitude that transcended words.
"I know we can’t truly repay what you’ve done," she said. "But if there’s anything—anything at all—that Jaren and I can do for you, please ask."
The young man considered this for a mont.
"Actually," he said, "I’ve been operating in the border regions for so ti. I’m considering traveling deeper into Aether territory, perhaps finding more... legitimate work than solo dungeon exploration. If you know of opportunities—"
"Yes!" Jaren interrupted eagerly. "Absolutely yes! Kaela and I are part of the Silverlight Guild based in Salimoor. It’s one of the major cities about two weeks’ journey from here. We’d be happy to introduce you, vouch for your capabilities—"
"After what you did today," Kaela added, "I’d personally recomnd you to the Guildmaster. Your skills are wasted working alone."
The young man’s expression showed what might have been genuine pleasure.
"That would be appreciated," he said. "Thank you."
"It’s the least we can do," Kaela insisted. "You saved our lives. Jaren and I—we won’t forget that."
They stood there for a mont, three survivors bathed in sunlight that felt almost sacred after the dungeon’s darkness.
"I should ask," Jaren said suddenly. "What do we call you? You never introduced yourself."
The young man paused, as if considering the question carefully.
Then he smiled—an expression that sohow seed both warm and carefully calculated.
"My na is Eru."
[Welco to Volu 2: The Land of Aether]
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