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Chapter 805: Down the Abyss

Lightning said nothing.

She understood that Edith was right. If the hole was as deep as described, a fall of that distance was almost certainly fatal. If it was something else — some interference with Fran’s magic — then things were more complicated, not less. There could be a God’s Stone of Retaliation at the bottom, which would be dangerous but manageable. Or there could be a trap set by some unknown enemy, in which case any rescue attempt became its own catastrophe.

The swift sickle monsters and the worm carrier that had once devoured the demon’s Blackstone Pagoda were still unaccounted for, still presumed somewhere in the vicinity of the Great Snow Mountain. Without Nightingale and Sylvie’s warning abilities, without the protection of the First Army, even the God’s Punishment Witches would struggle to bring Fran back intact.

Lightning exhaled slowly.

Exploration was always a risky business. And a good explorer never abandoned her companions, whatever the circumstances.

She stepped toward the arguing witches. “Let me go down and look. Whatever we decide to do next, we need to know what’s actually there before we act.”

A blond figure turned around. “Your ability is—” Lightning recognized him: Elena, the soul of an ancient Taquila witch inhabiting a man’s body. The incongruity of the appearance had long since stopped jarring her.

Lightning tapped the goggles resting on her forehead. “Flight. Given the situation, I think I’m better suited to scouting than anyone here.”

Agatha’s frown deepened. “This isn’t a question of convenience. What happens if you lose the ability to fly at the bottom? His Majesty’s instructions were clear — no one acts alone on this operation, whether from the Witch Union or Taquila. Everyone works together, in cooperation with the First Army.”

“Then tie a rope around my waist.” Lightning laid out the plan simply. “Even if there is an anti-magic zone from a God’s Stone at the bottom, you can pull me back up once I reach it. That solves the problem.”

Saving a companion was not the same as acting recklessly. Her father had told her too many stories of panicked rescues gone wrong. She had come to believe that most emergencies resolved well if someone thought first and moved second — and she intended to be that someone.

Besides, she was the greatest explorer alive, with or without her ability.

Nightingale stepped from the Mist. “Let me go with her. I can descend along the precipice — there is no up or down in the misty world, only surface and distance. And if an enemy does appear, I can intervene immediately.”

Wendy shook her head, firmly. “That is still two people acting alone. If it’s a trap, neither of you could help the other. There are Senior Demons in this world. Do not forget that.”

“We are not leaving Fran behind.” Elena’s voice dropped. “If none of you will go, I’ll go myself.”

“Have four hundred years made you forget how to follow orders?” Agatha’s voice carried the particular dryness of someone who has not forgotten anything. “In the name of the Taquila senior witches, I forbid you to act alone.”

The God’s Punishment Witches went quiet. Elena held still, jaw tight, then stepped back and placed her hand on her chest in the Taquila gesture of apology.

“I don’t think you need to argue further.” Edith spoke up, her tone reasonable. “His Majesty’s orders require the three parties to work together. So we simply send the First Army down. Don’t we?”

Brian, the Gun Battalion superintendent, blinked. “You’ve found the route down?”

“No. But I found this.” Edith pointed to a section of cliff near the tunnel entrance. In the torchlight, the underground river below it shivered into rippling light on the rock walls. “The concrete supply boat has a crane — I have watched the soldiers use it to transfer provisions. They don’t do it by hand.”

“You mean the gondola.” Brian nodded slowly. “It can move a lot of weight at once, but it needs the steam engine.”

Edith spoke with the deliberate cadence of someone who has already worked through the problem. “Then we move the engine here from the boat and send two machine gun squads down with the witches. The rope length can be adjusted with a connector. The God’s Punishment Witches can handle the heavy machinery. The water source here ensures continuous operation, and gives us the retreat route His Majesty’s orders require. The only question is how to lower it into the hole. I imagine the First Army knows how to manage that.”

Brian hesitated. “We can get it down — but bringing it back up is a different matter.”

“Then you sacrifice one boat and one steam engine.” Edith’s expression did not change. “At most five or six hundred gold royals. What choice do you think His Majesty would make, if he were standing here?”

Lightning pressed her lips together. Five or six hundred gold royals was not a small sum.

But it did not take Brian long to decide. He gave a single nod. “Understood. The steam engine will be ready shortly.”

An hour later, a roaring machine stood at the tunnel entrance. Because fixing the gondola’s boom to the rock walls proved unworkable, they stripped the gondola down to just the capstan and used that as the lifting apparatus. The capstan spun steadily as the steam engine’s flywheel turned, and the rope descended into the darkness, meter by meter. To prevent it fraying against the rock edge, Agatha pressed her power into the mouth of the hole and sealed the rim with solid ice, smooth as a mirror — the rope now moved up and down without rubbing.

Attached at the end of the rope was a large iron basket, wide enough to hold six to eight people along with two Mark I heavy machine guns. Even in a zone that suppressed magic, the witches would still have firepower at their backs.

Agatha, Elena, and six First Army soldiers climbed in first. Nightingale and Lightning followed.

They checked the rigging once and then sank slowly into the dark.

The torchlight above dwindled. Lightning hovered a little below the center of the hole, a rope around her waist, and led the basket down. She missed having Maggie flying beside her — but she understood why someone had to stay outside to watch the mountain. And between watching demonic beasts and uncovering the mystery of an underground ruin, she knew which one she preferred.

Every ten meters, she turned to make sure the basket was still there.

The meager light from the sentries’ fires vanished somewhere above. The only illumination now was the two Stones of Lighting inside the basket. In their steady glow, two pale gold ribbons followed the cliff walls — Agatha’s ice, smooth and reflective, anchoring their descent. The protruding rocks were gone beneath it, ground to a polished mirror surface.

Lightning’s heart sank a little with every passing hundred meters.

An ordinary person could not survive such a drop. She let herself hope that Fran was something more than ordinary.

And then — below her, barely visible — a faint shimmer opened in the dark. A hairline thread of light, like an eye opening for the first time. Lightning raised her Stone and flashed the signal upward. She dove the last meters quickly, breath held, and felt her feet touch solid stone.

She crouched and pressed her palm to the surface.

The rock was black and polished to glass. Its dark reflection swam with thick, deep veins of red.

She had seen this before.

The Blackstone Pagoda. The one from the demon’s ruined city.

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