The descent into the first terrace of the abyss was silent until the air itself began to scream.
Thirty-three rankers and nine porters reached the base of the first spiral. The darkness here didn't just obscure vision; it felt like wet wool pressing against the skin. Then, the light arrived—not as a sun, but as a jagged rupture in the atmosphere.
『[SYSTEM]: YOU HAVE ENTERED THE FIRST LAYER OF THE CATASTROPHE DEPTH.』
『[ZONE]: THE CLOISTER OF MUTE PRAYERS.』
In the center of the terrace stood a figure draped in a worn, ash-colored cloak that billowed despite the lack of wind. Beneath the hood, a thick cloth bound its face, leaving only the suggestion of a chin. Four wings, pristine and blindingly white, sprouted from its back, spanning nearly ten meters. Hovering in a halo above its head were six golden outlines of eyes, arranged in a perfect ring, blinking in unison.
