Night cloaked the desolate world as Lucas and Elara delved deeper into the cursed lands. The moon's faint light barely outlined the twisted shapes of crumbling structures. Elara led the way, taking long strides with the confidence of someone accustomed to the darkness. Lucas followed closely, his Shadow Stalker senses alerting him to every minute movement around them.
After several hours of navigating through crumbling alleys and derelict industrial zones, a steep cliff face emerged. Elara stopped before a narrow fissure, almost invisible in the gloom, just wide enough for one person to pass through.
"Go in," she said, her voice slightly lowered. "This is the entrance to The Deep."
Lucas stepped into the fissure, feeling a rush of cold, damp air. The winding path led deep underground, with faint lights occasionally flickering in the distance. The sounds of hammering, clanging metal, and even raucous hawking began to echo up. The Deep revealed itself before them, a chaotic but vibrant underground settlement, lit by makeshift lamps and flickering campfires.
This place was nothing like New Harbor Citadel. There were no armored guards, no towering walls. Instead, there were muddy paths, makeshift homes built from scrap metal and canvas, and hundreds of people bustling about. Miners with soot-streaked faces, Scavengers with old scars and wary eyes, merchants with illicit goods spread out everywhere.
As they stepped inside, Lucas felt dozens of eyes fix on him and Elara. They were strangers. The gazes were curious, scrutinizing, and some held outright hostility from armed figures lounging nearby.
"Head straight to the central market," Elara whispered. "Look for someone named 'The Memory Merchant' Silas. He might have what we need."
As they passed through a dim alley, a group of three thugs blocked their way. They were Scavengers with fierce expressions and crude weapons.
"Who are you, Scavenger?" The leader, a burly man with a long scar across his cheek, spoke, his eyes fixed on Lucas's cleaner clothes. "Did the Citadel send you down here?"
Lucas didn't answer, his gaze sweeping over the three attackers. He didn't want trouble, but he couldn't afford to be underestimated either.
"Move aside," Elara cut in coldly, her crystal short sword barely visible beneath her cloak. "We don't have time for your childish games."
The leader sneered. "Well, well, a feisty little thing. You think your toy dagger can do anything to me?" He motioned to his comrades.
Lucas knew this was a test. This place operated by the law of the jungle. He had to show strength.
When two of his comrades charged, Lucas didn't dodge. He lunged straight for the leader. The man's eyes widened in surprise. Lucas channeled the Husk-Brute's strength and the Shadow Stalker's speed. His punch carried terrifying power, landing squarely in the leader's gut.
CRASH!
The man flew backward, slamming into a nearby metal wall, writhing in pain. His two companions froze, fear etched on their faces. Lucas didn't stop. He spun, sweeping a leg kick that tripped one of them. The last thug, panicked, tried to flee, but Elara was faster. She swung her arm, a silver beam of light flashing past, severing the crude club in his hand.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. Lucas stood tall, breathing deeply, the scar on his hand burning but not visibly glowing. He looked at the two trembling figures on the ground.
"Get out," Lucas growled.
The two men scrambled to their feet, helped their groaning leader, and fled in a panic, not daring to look back. The scrutinizing gazes around them immediately shifted to astonishment and respect. They had seen. This stranger was no ordinary person.
"Well done," Elara said, not with praise, but as a practical assessment. "Now, to the market."
They proceeded into the central market. It was a labyrinth of stalls and pathways, permeated by the smell of damp earth, smoke, and loud bartering. After some searching, they found a peculiar stall, covered with tattered tarps, inside which an old man sat hunched amidst a pile of odds and ends. Not guns or food, but strange artifacts: twisted metal pieces with grotesque shapes, bottles filled with shimmering liquids, and several old wooden boxes.
"Silas?" Elara asked.
The old man looked up, his beady eyes hidden behind thick glasses. He looked frail, but his gaze was razor-sharp. "Someone looking for me?" His voice was raspy. "Not goods, not services, then it must be 'memories'."
Lucas and Elara exchanged glances. This man knew Lucas's moniker. Or was he just talking about memories as information?
"We need information. About Nexus Crystals. And about a place called the Crystal Catacombs," Elara stated directly.
Silas chuckled, a grin revealing his yellowed teeth. "Ah, ancient things. Not cheap. Especially information as valuable as that." He stared intently at Lucas, his eyes settling on his palm. "And especially for someone who bears the mark of..." He trailed off, gesturing with a finger towards Lucas's scar.
Lucas felt a jolt run down his spine. This man knew. He knew about Lucas's abilities. He even knew about its origin.
"Who are you?" Lucas asked, his voice cold.
Silas gave a knowing smile. "I'm a merchant of the most precious commodity in this world, Scavenger. Information. Memories. And sometimes, I also trade in living memories." He patted one of the old wooden boxes, producing a soft thud.
Lucas and Elara looked at each other. A sense of unease crept in. "Living memories"? What in the Abyss was going on in this place?