Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 50: The Call of the Lair

Chapter 50: The Call of the Lair

Slowly recovering from my wounds, I continued to drink Lysara’s blood.

A thick, warm liquid, almost alive. It screamed through my veins like an echo of its own will.

After the battle, she had evolved.

Her initial class of average warrior had given way to something more unstable... more organic.

Mutant warrior.

It made sense. Her body, malleable, ever-changing, constantly reacted to its environment. It adapted, densified, reshaped itself.

At first glance, this change offered no immediate advantage. But I had the dull sensation that this mutation was directional, as if her body was already rewriting its foundations in preparation for a greater evolution.

Probably at level 100.

That was my goal too.

Weeks passed.

We remained in this volcanic hellscape, cut off from the world.

No other major creature disturbed our isolation. So I focused on her.

On her training.

Her hammer shattered rocks like glass.

Her extensions moved like serpents around her, obeying her gestures, her instincts.

She did not speak, but her silence was more expressive than the screams of an angry god.

She was growing.

And I observed.

Fascinated.

I only appeared before her for three things: To give her food. To give her drink. Or to attack her.

Always by surprise.

She had to learn to survive without me.

To fend for herself.

To trust her own body, her instincts, her mutations.

But this land offered nothing.

The monsters here were inedible—too acidic, too infested, or simply too... something else.

The entire region seemed designed to kill, not to nourish.

So I was the one who fed Lysara.

But just enough. No more.

I wanted her to feel hunger. To understand it.

To learn to fight with an empty stomach, aching muscles, a dry throat.

It is in deprivation that warriors are born.

And she...

She had to become one.

Hidden in the shadows thanks to my stealth skill, I merged with the black rock.

My breath was held, my scent masked, my heartbeat slowed.

Invisible.

Silent.

That’s when I saw it.

A movement in the sky.

Slow, sinuous, almost graceful... if not for its unnatural shape.

A flying abomination.

It sliced through the sulfurous winds at high altitude, barely visible to the naked eye.

But my altered perception, honed by days of watching, allowed me to spot it.

Ten meters long.

A serpentine, scaly body, yet supple like a tendril of flesh.

Huge, membranous, almost translucent wings that seemed to pulse with each beat, as if breathing.

It hadn’t seen us.

Not yet.

But it existed.

And here, in this barren region where nothing was supposed to fly...

It had no business being here.

I kept watching, motionless.

It circled slowly in the sky, like a black leaf carried by a poisoned wind, then began its descent.

A long, spiraling flight, almost solemn.

It landed on a neighboring peak.

A spur of black stone, sharp, isolated, thrust into the sky like a forgotten blade of the gods.

It clearly had a lair there.

A nest.

A cave.

A sanctuary of flesh and bones, carved into the very mountain.

And there, in a burning corner of my mind...

Treasure.

One word. An echo. A dangerous idea.

Where there’s a flying creature... there’s a lair.

Where there’s a lair... there’s loot.

Stolen objects, remains of prey, fragments of artifacts, precious bones.

Maybe even relics.

My heart beat too fast.

My breathing quickened despite myself.

I had to go.

At all costs.

The first day passed between blood and fire:

I collected tendons, long muscle fibers, cartilage, and especially still-supple red meat.

I stretched the tendons between two pillars of rock, above a lava lake at just the right height—far enough to avoid carbonization, but close enough for slow cooking.

I salted the pieces with what I had bought at the market: black salt from the rocks of Nyssara, another region of the demonic continent, further north.

Very effective at preventing meat from rotting in the following days.

When evening came, I grilled two large thighs.

—First real meal in a long time. Care to say thank you?

She took the meat.

Chewed slowly. Swallowed.

Not a word.

I shrugged.

—You’re a dream come true.

The next day, I returned to the improvised dryer.

The strips of meat had begun to harden under the heat.

I turned them several times during the day, adding more salt, adjusting the tensions, avoiding areas too exposed to lava steam.

Lysara watched me silently, arms crossed, her hammer resting across her knees.

—If you survive, you could open a luxury tavern, huh?

Still nothing.

That evening, we ate more grilled meat.

I handed her a canteen. She emptied it in a second.

—Want me to teach you how to savor it?

She handed me the empty canteen without expression.

I took that as a "go to hell."

The day after, at dawn, the dried meats were ready.

There was enough for several months.

Especially for someone like her.

An evolved one.

No need to eat every day; her body optimized every nutrient, every fragment of flesh. She could last a long time.

I exhaled, relieved.

Then I sat cross-legged on the warm rock and gestured for her to join me.

She obeyed, silent as always.

I pulled out an old bag from my satchel. One from the beginning. Scuffed, patched, but sturdy.

I carefully filled it: twenty Varkh, the enchanted canteen, and several pieces of dried meat.

I placed it between us, then looked at her.

—Alright. Now, everything is ready. I’m going.

She slightly lowered her eyes toward the bag. A very faint blink.

Almost an emotion.

I raised a finger.

—Three rules. Listen carefully.

She barely nodded.

—One: you only leave this mountain if it’s to flee. Nothing else. No exploration, no pride, no games.

—Two: you continue your training. Every day. Hammer. Extension. Reinforcement. Tactics.

—And three, the most important: you don’t die.

I paused.

—That one is non-negotiable.

My tone was heavier, almost grave.

I leaned in slightly.

—Seriously. Train here. Fight what you can kill. Run from what you can’t. If I don’t return in two months, go down the east ridge. Find a city there. Wait for me two more months. If I still don’t come back...

I fell silent.

Then raised my eyes to hers.

—... it means I’m dead.

I handed her the bag.

She took it. No hesitation.

Then I straightened up, cracked my fingers... and unsheathed my claws.

I took a deep breath... and tore a claw from my own hand.

The pain knocked the breath out of me for a moment.

I gasped, the air burning my lungs. Blood flowed, dark and thick.

I offered her the still-warm claw.

—Here. It’s yours.

Then I pulled out another Gorvak from my enchanted satchel. One last one.

I sank my fangs into its neck, drinking slowly.

I still didn’t understand where all this blood was going, but I could drink endlessly.

Being a vampire was definitely handy.

My wound closed. My claw regrew within seconds.

I sighed, sated.

The corpse on the ground, drained of its blood.

—Here. Take this too. Skin it. Eat. And do what I did. Learn. Reproduce. Survive.

I approached.

She stared at me without blinking.

I raised a hand.

Then gently placed my palm on her head.

—From now on, you’re on your own.

Silence.

—And if I die... mourn me a little, okay?

I caressed her gently.

She said nothing.

But she didn’t look away.

And then...

She hugged me.

Without warning. Without hesitation.

Her arms, short but powerful, closed around me with surprising strength.

No words. No tears. Just that gesture.

Harsh. Raw. Absolute.

I stood frozen for a moment.

As if struck by lightning.

A whirlwind of emotions exploded in my chest.

I slowly placed a hand on her back.

Her body was warm. Solid. Steady.

I lowered my head, unable to speak for a few seconds.

—Ah... my little girl... I thought, without saying it.

It was her.

She had become this.

Somewhere, through the months of sweat, blood, and ashes...

She had become my daughter.

And it broke me.

But I had no right to falter. Not in front of her. Not now.

Because I had to leave her here.

Alone.

But I couldn’t pass up this chance.

Not now. Not with that monster, that abomination perched in its lair.

I closed my eyes.

Breathed deeply.

Then slowly detached myself from her arms.

She did not resist.

I placed my hand on her head one last time.

—Stay alive, Lysara.

I turned away.

And left, heart heavy...

But steps determined.

I moved like the wind.

Each step brought me closer to something I didn’t yet understand. But I knew... it was vital.

Supple. Silent.

Guided by instinct, the burning objective in my mind.

The journey to the peak should only take a few days.

Still hidden under my stealth skill, I slid between shadows, avoiding threats, dodging unnecessary fights.

No tracks. No sounds. No scent.

I was but a whisper among the stones.

The monsters I crossed paths with were of no interest.

Too weak, too slow, or simply too loud to be worth an ambush.

I left them to their world. I was only passing through.

I crossed the mountains.

Claws drawn when needed, sometimes running along steep walls like an upside-down predator.

The blood made it all feel... natural.

The days passed.

Slowly.

Burning.

The climate was unstable, edgy, as if the region itself sensed I was nearing a dangerous threshold.

And I continued.

Always toward the peak.

Always toward that creature, lurking above.

I moved quickly, sure-footed despite the treacherous stones beneath my boots.

The path was narrow, carved into the mountainside, bordered by a gaping chasm from which rose the suffocating smell of sulfur and the dull roar of molten lava.

A living crevasse.

Breathing.

Ready to devour.

But I didn’t stop.

I never slowed down.

Danger, I brushed past it—I didn’t look at it.

Until that vibration.

A tremor in the stone.

A wave, fine, precise, coming from the wall on my right.

I slowly turned my head.

And the horror jumped in my face.

There was no warning. No rumble. Just... a fissure. And from it, it emerged.

The wall tore open.

Literally.

As if the rock was just a skin stretched too tight, hiding a monster too vast for this world.

It burst forth.

A slug.

No... a thing. A beast. A slimy aberration, ten meters long, bristling with burning rocky spikes, its vertical mouth gaping, filled with tongues and incandescent lava tentacles snapping in the air.

It filled the space.

The sky. The ground. My field of vision.

Everything.

And I was just there.

A step from the lava. A breath from hell.

Two options.

Jump into the lava to my left.

Or get swallowed alive by a slug from my worst nightmares.

I sighed.

—Aaaaah... what a shitty life, I thought, desperate irony in my mind.

Then, resolute. One thought crossed my mind. One movement. Just enough to save what mattered. I threw the magical satchel far down the path.

Then the tentacles seized me.

The pain was immediate.

The lava burned my skin, bit into my flesh, dragged me, tore me from the ground, pulling me into that gaping, glowing, carnivorous maw.

And I sank.

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