Chapter 48: Heart of the Reliquary The two Espers had reached their supposed destination.
After several minutes of pursuit, the narrow corridor widened into a cavernous hollow. In its center was an enormous pit, seeming black and bottomless, from which faint whispers seemed to emanate. The Beetles approached the edge and began lowering the Ravager’s body into the pit.
Once they were done, the creatures immediately retreated into the darkness, as if terrified that something lurking deeper within might catch them.
Flaming Rose narrowed her eyes behind the mask.
"They... dropped the Fiend into a damned hole?"
Nightingale gave a curt nod.
𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮 "Seems like it. Come on, let’s take a closer look."
Curiosity was an addictive drug, but the fear of the unknown was an even stronger deterrent, warning them that whatever waited below was something they were never meant to find. Even so, they moved forward to investigate the matter nevertheless.
They had come too far to turn back now. Even if they wanted to, retreat was no longer an option.
Moving cautiously, Nightingale and Rose crept toward the edge of the gaping abyss and peered into its depths. As far as the eye could see, there was only darkness. The faint glow of Rose’s Azure Embers barely reached a few meters down before being devoured entirely.
A low, haunting howl echoed from the depths of the pit. Without a shred of doubt, something was down there.
Rose clicked her tongue.
"How lovely. I’ve seen enough horror films to know how this ends."
Nightingale raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"Oh? I didn’t take you for the type to indulge in such trivialities."
She shrugged.
"What? So I can’t watch movies now? Because of what exactly?" Then her tone shifted. "Anyway, what are we supposed to do here?"
Illuminated by the faint azure fire cupped in Rose’s palm, the chamber came into view with startling clarity. Perhaps that was why the uneasy feeling in his gut only grew heavier with every passing second.
Above them and along the cavern walls, thick red veins sprawled in chaotic patterns — pulsating sluggishly, alive with a sickly rhythm. They throbbed beneath the surface like arteries of some enormous creature, slick and glistening under a coating of black secretion that dripped steadily to the floor below. The entire place felt less like a cavern and more like the inside of a living biological entity.
Uncannily, it reminded him of the Second Floor but far more... subdued.
Lowering his gaze, Nightingale noticed five huge crimson masses pulsing faintly at each corner of the chamber. Closer inspection showed that they were made from organic material.
Flesh.
Pulsing, breathing flesh.
Each of those huge masses were roughly the size of a man, though their shapes were inconsistent. Some bulged outward like swollen hearts, others split open and closed again with wet, spasmodic movements. Thick cords of tissue connected them to the cavern walls and the pit itself, threading together like veins feeding into a greater organism.
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
’What is this place? Some kind of monster womb? No... that doesn’t add up.’
Like any other biological entity, Chaos Creatures were frail at birth, requiring constant nourishment to survive and grow. By that logic, it made no sense for them to emerge from the pit below or from the crimson growths along the chamber walls that resembled blood reservoirs. If that were truly their source, they would wither before ever maturing.
...Or so he believed.
Curiosity piqued, Nightingale took a cautious step closer to one of the pulsating masses and crouched beside it, studying the surface intently. The membrane was translucent in some places, and beneath it, something writhed. A silhouette shifted faintly inside, pressing against the flesh from within before sinking back into the murky fluid.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with a spark of intrigue glinting in his eyes.
"Interesting."
Rose’s voice carried an hint of confusion and perhaps a frown hidden behind her mask.
"What’s interesting? And what exactly are you doing over there?"
Nightingale replied without looking back.
"Obviously, I’m studying it."
She sounded even more confused.
"Studying what exactly? It’s a pile of meat, Nightingale. Unless you’re planning to start dissecting it..."
He cut her off.
"Just come over here and take a closer look."
Suppressing her unease and disgust, Rose hesitatantly stepped nearer and illuminated the crimson mound with her Azure Fire. Faint lines etched across the membrane, moving patterns of red and black that resembled... circuitry.
Her eyes widened.
"Wait... are those runes?"
"Not quite. I think I read about this once on an old forum. They’re called glyphs. Basically, they’re flow conduits. I’ve seen similar markings scattered across the Labyrinth. But here... all the currents seem to converge. That must mean..." Nightingale trailed off and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, murmuring a bunch of nonsense under his breath.
Growing impatient, Flaming Rose soon opened her mouth.
"What is it? If you discovered something, stop wasting time and just say it!"
Her own voice startled her, and she quickly fell silent but the words were already out.
Nightingale didn’t seem offended. He simply straightened, brushing off the dust from his coat, his gaze still fixed on the pulsating glyphs.
"Just as I thought, these aren’t organic. They’re control terminals."
"..."
"Ugh. What I mean by this," Nightingale began, his tone shifting from casual to analytical, "is that these things aren’t alive in the biological sense. They’re part of an integrated system. In simpler terms, a network."
Rose tilted her head.
"A network? You mean, like machines?"
"Not exactly machines," he corrected, tracing his fingers on one of the faintly glowing glyphs. "More like... bio-organic processors. Think of them as neural nodes. Each one links to a larger structure, forming a circuit or what I’d call a ’Blood Network.’ These conduits aren’t veins; in reality, they’re transmission channels. Information, energy, maybe even spatial data flows through them."
She frowned beneath her mask.
"You’re saying the Labyrinth has... a nervous system?"
"Precisely."
Nightingale stood, gesturing toward the pit at the center.
"And the core of that nervous system is likely down there. Every change we’ve seen — shifting walls, collapsing tunnels, even those creature migrations — they’re orchestrated by a central processor, using these terminals to maintain equilibrium and regulate structure."
"In other words, this place is alive and thinking?"
"Technically, it’s not that simple and ’alive’ isn’t the right word either. The Labyrinth behaves like a self-regulating organism capable of detecting, adapting, and evolving. The creatures here, like those Carcass Beetles, are probably being controlled through some kind of circuitry. That Ravager they just dropped into the pit? It serves as input that would be fed into the system. The more it absorbs, the more power it gains to control the Labyrinth. It’s a damn feedback loop!"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Rose shouted, clutching her head in disbelief. "I don’t understand a single thing you’re saying! Why the hell are you using computer logic in a place like this?!"
Nightingale shrugged simply.
"Ah... even if you ask me that, I don’t really have a better way to explain it. I just process things in my own way, you know? Honestly, I’m not even sure if my theory’s correct. Not even the top Climbers fully understand the Spire. So what the hell would some old man like me know about the Tower?"
Truly, that was the case.
Over a century had passed since the Black Mire first manifested back in 2018. In other words, one hundred and seventeen years had passed since humanity’s descent into this nightmare.
There was an old saying: to understand something, one must first know it. And yet, despite all that time, humanity had failed to "know" the Black Mire. They’d had more than enough years to descend its depths, to conquer and claim it but no one ever had. Not a single awakened being had reached the final floor. In fact, none had even made it past the sixty-ninth.
Not even the so-called Saints or Transcendents, whom Nightingale personally regarded as utterly useless in that regard.
"Tsk."
His tongue clicked in annoyance as he shifted his footing, the coat’s quiet sway mirroring the bitterness in his eyes.
’In the end, it doesn’t matter.’
Closing his eyes, Nightingale let the remnants of doubt fade away. When he opened them again, a steely resolve burned within his gaze. Turning to Rose, his tone was calm, deadly so.
"Everything. We’ll burn it all to hell."