Under the influence of Floating Through Life, my awareness stretched outward in ways that would have been impossible under normal circumstances, even in my ascended state.
However, it was not just a matter of seeing farther or hearing clearer—it was a fundantal expansion of awareness, an existence that occupied more than just the imdiate space around .
And thus, I could feel the weight of reality shifting, bending ever so slightly around as my mind extended across vast distances. This not only just made allow to percie things that I wasn't supposed to be aware of, but it also surprisingly made my perceptive extension much more powerful and efficient.
Even right now, from my place in the sky, I could turn my attention toward the subterranean depths where the expedition was progressing.
"Interesting."
The Theotech Site's underground levels were a different world altogether.
From the mont the expedition team had stepped into the spiral path leading downward, the very concept of space had changed.
It was not a re descent—it was a gradual yet overwhelming transition.
A transition into sothing older, sothing deeply entrenched in the foundation of Carcosa itself. If one were to deem the surface of Carcosa like that of Earth, then one could only deem what I saw in this subterranean world to be nothing but a psychotic, nightmarish dream.
As I peered through the layers of existence, I could see the absurdity they faced.
The first section of the subterranean network was a chamber that should not exist.
It was vast, yet narrow—impossibly so—far greater and degrading than what the external structure of the site should have allowed.
It was hard to put it into words, because I'm not exactly not on the site in person. Maybe it was different to my confidantes and bastioneers that were within the periters.
But through my perceptive extension, I could still sowhat comprehend so intrinsic factor of the dungeon.
The walls weren't made of stone, nor tal, but of so sort of woven fiber, taut and breathing, pulsating with a rhythm unlike anything natural. They stretched into infinity, curving, twisting, forming pathways that spiraled inward and downward like the layers of a great blooming flower.
Gravity was inconsistent. Certain sections of the chamber allowed free movent, while others pulled downward with crushing force, distorting the perception of depth. The floor didn't exist in the conventional sense—it was a conceptual platform, a shifting surface that changed depending on who was walking upon it.
It should have been an impossible space to navigate.
Should have been.
But that was why Kuzunoha was there.
Standing at the forefront, she traced a single arc in the air with her finger.
A ripple ford, spreading through the entire chamber, disrupting its stability for a re second—but a second was all she needed.
In that mont, her calculations telepathically flooded the neuromorphic network, creating a map of how the environnt functioned in reference to what had been broken down by Viviane's forecast magic.
She stepped forward, taking slow, deliberate steps, pressing her foot down on seemingly empty space—and yet, she did not fall.
The crew followed her from behind.
Viviane, on the other hand, tackled an entirely different problem. A surprising yet fitting one.
The chamber was filled with pockets of water that should not have been there—floating orbs of liquid, suspended in the air, shifting erratically as though controlled by unseen forces.
They were not just water.
The liquid held fragnts of stored mories, incomplete thoughts, echoes of voices that whispered when touched.
The expedition team had initially avoided them, wary of whatever knowledge—or madness—might be contained within.
Viviane, however, stepped forward and plunged her hand into one.
The mont her fingers breached the liquid's surface, the entire chamber shuddered.
A wave of force erupted outward, attempting to consu everything in its path.
She didn't flinch.
With a slow breath, she shaped the water into a perfect sphere, stabilizing it with nothing but her presence.
The pressure vanished.
"It is safe to be in contact with the 'mind water' now," Viviane said.
I wanted to ask her to take so of the water back for so experint and research, but it seed like Kuzunoha had already instructed so bastioneers to do it already.
And then there was Charis.
Even from this distance, I could perceive the clarity in her voice, the way she commanded the expedition team without hesitation.
She sat comfortably within the Landship, a single Duolos by her side—her tether to the team below.
Whenever a decision needed to be made, she would speak to the Duolos beside her.
And instantaneously, the ssage would be received by another Duolos within the expedition.
There was no delay, no distortion of communication—just pure efficiency, as though she was standing beside them in real ti. It was definitely one way to establish a good communication logistic, especially with how disruptive the psychic waveworn within the subterranean area are
She was handling everything well.
Satisfied that the expedition was proceeding as expected, I returned my attention to my imdiate surroundings.
With my perception satisfied, I shifted my attention back to my own situation.
The foreign bastion below was no longer an idle observation.
I descended further to sowhere close, adjusting my presence to sothing less imposing.
My personal Mini MSU—a compact cognitive storage unit—shimred to life, its chanisms humming softly as it responded to my request.
Within monts, my attire shifted—the elaborate garnts I usually wore vanished, replaced by sothing simpler.
"Glad that I added this function."
A worn, tattered cloak draped over my fra, its edges frayed as if I had traveled through countless hardships. A hooded garnt concealed the finer details of my appearance, allowing only the necessary implications of weariness and struggle to be seen.
And yet, even in rags, my face remained flawless.
Perfect to an unnatural degree.
As expected of .
With a asured control of my divine output, I suppressed the radiance of my presence, dulling my Divine Charm to ensure that those within the bastion wouldn't instinctively kneel or worship on sight.
Blending in required effort, after all.
"Who are you!?"
As I approached, my presence was imdiately t with hostility.
A tall man with bull-like horns stood at the entrance, his form rigid with tension. In his hands, he wielded a grueso spear, its wide, jagged spearhead stained dark with age, its shaft reinforced with bone plating for what appeared to be a Calamity Object's material.
A weapon designed for impaling sothing that did not die easily.
At the sa ti, I felt the weight of another presence—a hidden watcher, perched atop the bastion walls.
From behind the wooden barricades, a crossbow-like device was trained on . It was unlike any conventional ranged weapon—a chanical construct of brass, sinew, and coiled tubing, its internal chanisms whirring faintly as it prid itself to fire.
I did not react, allowing my body to tense deliberately, shaping my expression into sothing worn, weary, desperate.
A wanderer, chased from unseen threats.
I exhaled shakily, eyes darting between them in well-practiced distress. "Please… I need shelter. Just for a while. Sothing is after ."
The bull-horned man hesitated. His grip on the spear tightened.
Caution. Suspicion. But also… hesitation.
He wanted to help—but he was wary.
Before he could make a decision, a new figure erged from within the bastion.
A young Kilnalan woman, brown hair, reddish blue eyes—her exhaust-like horns steaming faintly, stepped forward with an awkward, forced smile.
Unlike Verina, whose presence was refined through years of discipline, this one carried uncertainty, her movents cautious, yet decisive.
She studied —not just with her eyes, but with her mind.
And yet, sothing in my presence unsettled her.
She didn't know why.
I watched as her instincts fought against a logic she couldn't grasp.
Then, in an attempt to brush off the tension, she let out an exhale and turned to the bull-horned man. "Let's take her inside… I'll deal with it."
The man hesitated but ultimately stepped aside.
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The crossbow-like device atop the wall did not lower.
Still, I allowed myself to be escorted inward, keeping my act intact—subdued, uncertain, relieved but cautious.
As we walked, I glanced at the Kilnalan woman. "Are you the leader here?"
She didn't look at . "Yeah."
A short pause.
Then, a quick glance. "Izzar. That's my na. I don't know what your deal is, and why I feel like you're one aether of a dangerous bucko. But I'll welco you regardless."
"Izzar," I repeated softly. "I… I feel safe now."
She didn't quite believe , but she nodded anyway.
As we passed through the bastion's inner grounds, I took in the sight of its people at work.
So were tending to repairs, hamring tal plates into weak sections of the wall. Others were organizing supplies, moving wooden crates filled with preserved food and equipnt.
A group of Ohrtenders were gathered in a central area, their hands dipped in stone basins filled with dark liquid, chanting softly as they wove sothing unseen into the air.
Survival. That was the essence of this place.
Soon, we arrived at a designated building, its structure more refined than the others.
A place for discussion.
Izzar gestured for to enter.
Once inside, she shifted uncomfortably, glancing at . "Take off your hood."
I obliged.
The mont my face was revealed, she froze.
Her breath hitched.
I saw it—the mont of absolute disbelief, the way her mind halted, trying to comprehend why sothing so impossibly beautiful had just walked into her bastion.
Yes, I didn't lie in this one. I was constantly prying into her mind.
Her head was currently overloaded with how perfect I was in contrast to my artificially ragged state.
Her hands twitched.
She swallowed.
"Are you an angel?"
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