Echoes of Hollow

"What are you doing?" Hye questioned, staring down at the pathetic sight of a boy who had once shown such ambition. "My claws... Is this how you intend to serve me?"

The trembling boy watched Hye’s back as it receded, but he couldn’t ignore the final word uttered: "Pathetic." It was spoken without any attempt to hide its intent. Ignoring Admetos's fear, Liwmorr soon stepped out of the shadows as well, walking alongside Hye.

"Where is he? The person you said you had... What the hell..." Lior didn't need anyone to point the way. The iron scent carried by the wind told him everything. "If this is what you call harmless, Teodoro, I don’t even want to think about what you consider dangerous."

The mark on the hands of all hunters under Teodoro and the werewolves under Hye’s command began to glow. In an instant, a mental connection was established, allowing everyone to see exactly what was before Lior.

"Change of plans," Teodoro said, his voice reaching everyone. "Ignore the side effects—find them all as fast as you can. The creature’s connection appears to be growing increasingly stable. Keep in mind that regardless of whether someone is a hunter or not, there’s no guarantee that even ordinary 'possessed' individuals will retain their natural physical attributes. The possibility of unique abilities also remains unknown. Be precise in your actions. Don’t allow any chance for a counterattack."

As the connection ended, Lior descended with Hye in front of the window of what had once been a human being. The man’s mouth moved, but no matter how hard he tried, Lior couldn’t make out a single word. With a mere movement of his foot, the wall ahead disintegrated at his touch.

"Oh, and Lior," Teodoro’s voice returned, trying to warn him. But it was too late. With no barriers left to block the man’s voice, the strange words reached Lior’s ears—and he collapsed instantly.

Confused, Hye watched as Lior writhed on the blood-soaked floor beside a body long devoid of life. His gaze wandered over the walls, where macabre symbols written in blood were etched. But to Hye, they weren’t symbols—they were words.

"Behind these lenses, different. With broken glasses, I can only see what lies ahead. But I saw, I witnessed. In the depths, kneeling, I gave myself to him. To the one who does not die, who has only ever slept. Dreaming. But the day will come when he awakens. Amidst the chaos, the one to whom I now belong shall reign."

"Hm..."

Turning his gaze back to Lior, blood began to trickle from the openings on his face.

"Not dead, not dead," the man in the corner of the room muttered, kneeling. "He only sleeps, sleeps, sleeps..."

It was a language eerily familiar. Hye couldn’t recall ever hearing it, yet he was certain he had. He turned away from the declining man and locked eyes with Admetos.

At his side, the one who came with him trembled as blood pooled in his mouth. Yet, instead of showing any sign of concern or doubt, what was the meaning behind that gaze? Emotions were rare and their motives indecipherable—or perhaps not?

"Pathetic." The word spoken earlier echoed in the boy’s mind, a reminder. Through such a familiar look, he realized this was nothing but a mere test.

Swallowing hard, Admetos stepped off Liwmorr. Though he wore shoes, it felt as if he were barefoot—the sticky texture of blood beneath him was palpable through his soles. His claws emerged, and hesitating, he stopped in front of the blood-covered man.

The boy raised his hand, but something strange happened. Bowing his head, as if in submission, the man knelt before him. Words poured incessantly from his mouth—words Admetos hadn’t yet realized he could understand, words he was more than capable of hearing.

"Call him. And he will respond. We will respond. He will awaken—!"

Closing his eyes, Admetos moved his hand. Heat enveloped his fingers, mingling with the crimson red. Then, with the man’s last breath, the tremors stopped.

It was evident to Hye that countless attempts had been made to draw the creature on the wall beside them using an abundance of blood—all failures. It was as if the magnitude of the image couldn’t be captured by the limitations of the human mind. The claw marks embedded in the wall betrayed the frustration of the creator. Yet, something curious stood out: while the man had ten fingernails and the lifeless person at the room's center had ten more, the total number embedded in the wall was no less than eighty-seven.

"Ouch! Damn it!" Lior attempted to stand, but, slipping in the blood, fell again. "Bastard!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the mental link they all shared.

"I was just about to warn you..." Teodoro explained, cutting off their mental connection immediately after. "But look on the bright side," he continued. "Now you know how Alyia and I feel."

"Curse—! Damn it!"

Hye extended a hand to help him, but his gaze barely lingered. The drawings on the walls were far more intriguing than Lior’s suffering.

With the snap of his tongue, the blood surrounding them vanished. Not even the bodies remained. Sighing, Lior turned his back to the writings on the walls.

"Wait," Hye said. "I think you’ll want to do the same over there."

"Tsk!"Reluctantly, Lior walked to the door. Leaving that place was all he wanted. However, as the putrid smell spread the moment he opened the door, he had to reconnect with Teodoro once more.

With no space to step, the staircase was littered with bodies strewn in all directions. Each one shared the same distinct characteristics: their blood painted the house's walls, their hands were missing, and their hearts had disappeared. It was a place where not even flies lingered for long.

After snapping his fingers, Lior exited alongside Hye and Admetos, who climbed hastily onto Liwmorr. Once everyone was outside, the house began to shrink, retreating into itself until it vanished entirely.

Despite the failed attempts to draw the creature, something noteworthy remained: the attempt to describe the monster.

"An octopus’s head. Demon wings. A humanoid, shadowy body." Above it was written: The Cult of the Ancient C—. Not for lack of effort—the man had clearly tried to write the creature's name several times, in various sizes, throughout the room. Yet, it had been futile. He hadn’t managed to write beyond the "C," the beast’s initial.

"Are you sure you don’t want one?" Lior asked, placing a pair of noise-canceling devices—seemingly conjured—into his ears.

From that moment on, the thought of approaching any "anchor" they encountered never crossed his mind. Was it fear? No. Precaution. Just because he might be unaffected by the words didn’t mean he was willing to test that theory.

Admetos shook his head in refusal.

"I don’t think I need one. I didn’t react the same way you did," Hye replied.

"Consider yourself lucky..." Lior’s eyes scanned the city below, focusing on every detail. When he found what he was looking for, no gesture was needed to rid himself of it. "We’ve been at this for a while now. Aren’t you feeling anything? Fatigue, maybe? Flying takes a considerable amount of mana at first."

"Hmm... No. I’m fine. It doesn’t seem to be an issue."

"I see..."

And indeed, he did. For nearly thirty minutes, the three had been traversing the U.S. at a remarkable speed. Lior had monitored Hye’s mana expenditure from the start. Normally, mana flow slows and becomes volatile the more it’s used, sometimes even causing failures. But, like an unwavering current, Hye’s mana showed no signs of slowing or instability.

'It’s as if... he’s endlessly generating more mana in an infinite cycle...' Lior thought. 'No... That can’t be. We haven’t explained how to absorb ambient mana, so he couldn’t be doing that. And even if he learned on his own, he clearly isn’t drawing mana from his surroundings.'

"If we keep this pace, it’ll take too long to reach Europe. Can you go any faster?"

Hye nodded. With a powerful flap of his wings, strong enough to ripple the ocean below, Liwmorr followed closely behind.

***************

"Hmm, I think that was the last one," said Teodoro.

"Are you sure?" Nadine asked. "Wouldn't it be better to search a few more times just to be certain?"

"To be certain? I’ve flown over this place more than a hundred times. Trust me, there’s nothing left here."

"Yeah, the problem is that eighty percent of those times you only covered one city..."

"...," his eyes scanned the streets in an instant, noting every small detail. "This will be the last time," he said, descending toward the ground. "Search again, and afterward, you can head home."

"All of us?" Pedro asked through the mental connection.

"No. Don’t overdo it. Only those who were supposed to be off-duty."

"What are you doing?" Pedro asked, landing near a man holding a camera. "The best places to take pictures aren’t around here. I’d say the houses in the southern part of the city are much better preserved."

"No, I...," startled, the man quickly clutched his camera close to his chest. "Sometimes, I just like taking pictures in more developed areas," he said with an awkward smile. "New cultures are always interesting, but I also enjoy seeing how people live today... I hope you don’t mind..., Mr. Teodoro..."

"No, of course not. How could I? Everyone is welcome in my territories... even if they’ve entered illegally. But I don’t like trouble, you understand?"

"Y-Yes, of course."

"Then I hope you’re mindful of what your lens focuses on and, more importantly, how you use those images. Well, I hope you enjoy your stay here. Try finding someone to take you to some of the more remote spots. The old cities, submerged or not, are spectacular. I think they’re worth visiting, even if briefly."

"Y-Yes, I will. Tha...nk you..."

Before the man could finish his sentence, Teodoro was no longer standing before him.

Quickly, the man grabbed his camera. His trembling, sweaty fingers tapped against the small screen, sliding through the images, searching. But upon realizing his search was in vain, his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

"Haha... Damn it..."

---

"Hey, Pedro, change of plans."

"What? Don’t even start—I’m already heading home."

"You’ll need to swap places with Carlos."

"What? Why?! No. I’m not doing it. Make it someone else’s problem."

"Oh, come on. He’ll be coming with me... or do you want to handle this instead?"

"You know what, forget Nadine’s week off. After today, I’m not coming back until next month!"

"What?!" Teodoro exclaimed, causing the nearby fish along the shore to scatter. "If you do that, I... I’ll deduct it from your pay!"

"Pay? Are you joking? I don’t even get paid!"

"..."

"In Copacabana?" Carlos asked, listening in on their argument like the others.

"Yes... I’m waiting for you here..."

***************

"Well... some of us headed south," Lykos said as the mark on his hand glowed, "to make sure everything was fine. But..."

The once dry, sandy ground ahead, originally yellowish in tone, now clung to his shoes, mixed with the red liquid covering much of the area.

"I think we’ve found one..."

A deafening silence hung over the small town. The lack of noise might have been expected, of course—it was a settlement of no more than 30 inhabitants. However, alongside the blood, a foul stench filled every corner, saturating every inch of the land.

Drawings, painted in blood, covered the wooden walls of the houses. As Lykos and his group neared the center—where the stench grew stronger, and the blood on the ground thickened—they saw severed body parts scattered across the area.

In the distance, carried on the wind, a hoarse voice reached them. "Sleep, sleep, sleep..." it chanted in reverence.

"...There don’t seem to be any survivors either."

Seated among the corpses, an old man continued drawing with the blood pooling around him. His fingers moved across the sand, carving channels for the viscous liquid to flow.

"Hmm... Could you jump for a moment, please?" Teodoro asked.

Lykos leapt. His gaze fell to the ground, surveying the entire town. The bloodstains, contrary to what he had initially thought, weren’t random. As Teodoro had suspected, an enormous design was taking shape—one that seemed nearly complete.

When Lykos’s feet touched the ground again, the sound drew the old man’s attention. The elder immediately turned, his bloodshot eyes filled with what seemed to be madness as he stared at them all.

The man rose, startling Lykos and his companions—and even Teodoro and Lior, who watched from afar. All were puzzled by what happened next.

A sinister smile spread across the old man’s bloodstained face. Abandoning his "work," he fell to his knees, then to his hands. Finally, when his forehead pressed against the blood-soaked sand, it became clear that he was bowing before the ten individuals in front of him.

His mouth didn’t stop moving. On the contrary, he continued muttering strange words, unintelligible to Teodoro and Lior but perfectly understood by Lykos and the other wolves.

"He will awaken," he whispered—the same phrase scrawled in blood.