"So, what was that? The "Eight Vasus" stuff."

"Damn, you talk a lot, you know that? More than that, you ask a lot of questions--can't you just keep quiet for once?"

Brushed off, Goldheve let out a yawn before moving past the corpse of the fallen ent, heading towards the left pathway instead of the other options--once again, displaying little to no method to his madness. After being so rudely answered by the tan-skinned man, Ren swerved to the rightmost path out of frustration, before reluctantly moving back and catching up with Goldheve.

--Am I a masochist or something?

"Are you really going to keep following me, kid?"

Goldheve picked at his own ear, moving and talking without looking at Ren as his dirtied, olive cape followed behind his step.

"--I'm not following you, we just happen to be going the same way."

"Oh, I see."

--He actually bought that?!

The man wasn't much for chitchat as silence stood in the air as they made their way down the labyrinth corridor. It was almost too quiet to Ren, compared to the hoard of monsters that seemed to plague the hellish maze, the gnawing quiet was just as worrying.

"Hey…"

Before Ren could state his suspicions, the next step Goldheve took released a click, before the rough man that walked in front of Ren had disappeared down the false flooring beneath his step.

"—Grrh!"

More so than scared, Goldheve let out an annoyed grunt as he fell down the pit without any visible depth.

"Urr...You okay?"

Ren called out as he knelt down beside the newly opened pit in the hall, his voice echoing down the darkness. Waiting for his own call to be carried down the crevice, a response finally came back.

"Is standing in a pile of cold, damp feces your definition of okay?"

"...Fair. Can you climb out?"

In response to his question, Ren heard the man let out a grunt before jumping up and clinging to the wall, followed by a thud and a splash.

"These damn walls are coated in some nasty liquid, I can't get a grip."

Leaning over the edge of the trapdoor, a draft carried the awful aroma of abandoned excrement directly into his sense of smell.

A gag left his mouth before he covered his nose with his arm, trying to think of a way to recover his companion.

"If you have any plans, I'm all ears!"

"—I'm thinking!"

—It's not even close to complete, but it's the only thing I've got.

It was hard to gather his focus with the overwhelming stench of decomposing fecal matter, placing his palm facing downwards against the pit as he closed his eyes.

"Araphel: Inverse Hand."

Shadowy mana clad itself over his extended arm, stretching down into a non-solid hand formed of his own mana.

From all of his practice with the spell, he had only ever managed to extend it to ten meters, losing functionality the further he stretched it. It wasn't a particularly powerful spell, especially offensively—but it was a necessary tool he chose.

—I just don't get why it has to be this hard to master when it isn't even all that useful!

It felt as if the spell was attempting to rip apart his muscle fibers, pulling the water that inhabited his body out from his stressed pores.

—Nine meters...This is where it gets bad.

A deep inhale felt as if needles were pricking his ribs from the inside, exhaling as he forced the spell to extend downwards even further.

"You taking a shit up there? Hey! I know this is a shithole, but don't add to the pile!"

Goldheve called out from his prison of lost waste, listening to the distant grunts from Ren as he focused on his magic.

"—Shut...it!"

Just uttering two words was enough to send his body temperature into a fever, feeling his vision fall shaky as he forced another few meters of the dark hand down.

"What the hell is this thing dangling down towards me?"

"Grab it!"

"How about I slice it up?"

"If you want to stay in that pile of death, be my guest—!"

It seemed the threat of staying in the pool of deathly droppings was enough to move even the stubborn warrior. He didn't prepare himself for the sudden increase of weight that grabbed onto the extended hand.

Stepping beyond preconceived limitations opened Ren up to extend this moment of impossible growth—entering what some call "the zone". This unplanned development came in the form of activating reinforcement while simultaneously using Inverse Hand, hoisting his fallen partner up the narrow chasm like a budget fireman.

"—And up!"

With all of his remaining strength that for that moment felt boundless, he brought Goldheve back to the surface before falling backward.

"You weigh a lot more than I thought…"

Ren huffed, his arm throbbing, burning up as if it was dipped into a pit of flames.

"Not bad. Maybe you're not completely useless."

Standing over him, Goldheve extended his hand to the tuckered-out young man.

"Not sure I want to grab that hand."

Accepting the helping hand, Ren chuckled as he was hoisted up, feeling like a feather from the lack of effort needed to lift him from the cold, hard ground below.

"You use darkness, huh? Didn't take you for a gloomy bastard."

"You don't? Guess that means I'm not doing too bad...Speaking of magic, what's that stuff you use?"

Whatever gooey, dark substance rubbed off on his palm was something he wasn't taking any chances with, wiping his hand off on the dusty stone wall beside him.

"I thought I told you—it isn't magecraft. You're a real damn headache, kid."

"Well, I'd say this headache just saved your life."

"Don't get carried away. It just would've taken a bit of exertion for me to get out."

It was like trying to fish for praise from a prickly father. Looking past the thorny, icy exterior of Goldheve, Ren began to just appreciate the fact that the man didn't see him as an enemy.

"Wait a second, you said you owed me one right?"

Ren smirked as he realized the ticket to the knowledge he held now, jumping over the trapdoor after Goldheve.

"—"

"...How about you tell me about that "Eight Varoos" thing and we'll call it even."

"If it'll shut you up, then fine, you chatty bastard!"

Letting out a perturbed breath as he reared his head back, Goldheve finally caved into Ren's relentless pestering.

"—"Eight Vasus", it's a direct blessing from the gods who watch over my homeland of Derjun. Man, it's a real pain in the ass to explain," Goldheve scratched his greasy head of jet-black hair as he unleashed another sigh, "It's not a common thing. Only chosen warriors are given this blessing, and even fewer can wield all eight Vasu."

The longer he talked, the more annoyed his tone became.

"Derjun? Don't think I've heard of that place."

"Doesn't surprise me. You Mastornians live in your own bubble."

Before he could cut into that snide remark, the next room came into view. Stretching his limbs out like an eagle preparing to soar, Goldheve cracked his back as he stepped into the next section of the labyrinth.