Chapter 133: Unnaturally Gentle

The yellow desert ended where the cliff began.

Huda led them to the edge, the first layer’s descent.

It was nothing more than a crack in the earth, a narrow fissure that dropped into darkness so complete it looked like someone had cut a hole in the world... much like the Abyss’s entrance.

"Keep up."

She stepped off the edge.

Safira followed, and Malik went after her.

The air turned cold around them, pressure shifting in his ears as they fell through layers and layers of rock.

Then the darkness split open.

The second layer was a realm of stone.

Gray pillars rose from the ground, their surfaces worn smooth by wind that shouldn’t exist.

The ceiling was low, or maybe it was the sky; Malik couldn’t tell. Everything was cast in shades of gray and black, as if color had been drained out.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

It was the statues.

Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of weeping angelic figures lined the path ahead.

Upon the cohort’s arrival, the first statue turned its head.

The second followed.

Then the third.

Soon, the entire congregation had their hollow eyes fixed on the three intruders who dared to walk through.

"I hate these things."

Huda didn’t sound particularly worried, nor did Safira.

"I’ll take care of them."

The healer raised her hand and flicked one finger.

A strong force of air rippled outward, and the first wave of statues simply... stopped existing.

In a single movement, they were but mere dust, scattered across the gray ground.

Safira kept walking, flicking her finger again and again.

Each gesture erased another dozen, clearing the path.

The statues didn’t even get to do anything before there was nothing left of them at all.

’Hm...’

Malik kept his surprise off his face.

’She really is destructive.’

He’d known that, of course, fragments in his memories.

But again, knowing something and watching it happen in front of you were two very different things.

Safira was gentle, softer than anyone he’d ever met.

The kind of woman who’d cry over a wounded bird and spend an hour mending it.

Her hands had healed many and had held dying soldiers through their last breath.

Yet those same hands tore through an army of stone angels like it was nothing.

Gentle and deadly, that was always her.

’Kindness and strength don’t cancel each other out.’

Malik knew that much.

’You could heal with one hand and kill with the other; this world rarely gave the option to pick just one.’

He glanced at Huda, who casually walked ahead, not even bothering to look back at the destruction trailing them.

’Yeah.’

It was nice seeing them so... grown up.

The statues gave way to worse things the deeper they went.

A massive figure hung from an upside-down cross; his skin was pale, almost translucent, while his eyes were wide open, staring directly at them with a smile far too stretched.

Safira flicked her finger.

He exploded.

The three continued walking, remaining silent.

Soon, the third layer announced itself with a shift in the air, stuttering Huda’s wind.

She struggled, as if pushing against something heavy.

Huda furrowed her brow and pushed forth.

Piercing through the weight, they reached the edge of a cliff.

Malik looked down and, for a second, forgot to breathe.

Calling it a cliff felt wrong.

This was a vertical wall of black rock plunging straight down for what had to be ten miles.

At a glance, it didn’t look like much of a problem. Mortals, sure, they’d never manage it. But Magi like him could just float down without a second thought.

Except it was never that easy.

This was the Third Layer.

And here, gravity ran backwards.

That was the ’weight’ that was pushing against them earlier.

"Down is up."

Huda confirmed what he’d already guessed.

"Up is down. So we climb upward to reach the bottom."

She pointed at the cliff face, or rather at the air above it, shimmering with invisible pressure.

"And the Rukh here’s thick. Real thick. It’s going to push back the whole way, and the deeper we go, the heavier it gets."

Safira stepped up beside him.

"We prepared for this, so don’t worry."

She looked at Huda, who nodded back.

"Do your thing."

They’d done this before, perhaps many times.

"Stranger, would you create a fire? A small one, enough to catch."

Without asking questions, Malik raised his hand and activated Ember’s Touch.

A small flame flickered to life in his palm.

He held it out before Safira.

"Now!"

At Huda’s scream, the air around them condensed, pressing against his skin, and Safira punched straight into the fire.

The blast shot out behind them, and Malik’s body lurched forward with the force of it, cutting through the dense Rukh.

Safira didn’t stop.

Punch after punch, each one sending a burst of fire and wind behind them, tearing through the resistance.

Her hands were being destroyed in front of him with every swing, her skin peeling back, her bones cracking, and her flesh burning off from the strain of her own strength.

And yet, a moment later, it grew back.

New skin, flesh, and bone, knitting itself where the old had shattered.

She showed no reaction to any of it.

Nothing that said she even noticed what was happening to her own body.

Instead, she smiled at him, perhaps worried for him.

Malik felt something tighten in his chest.

Just how gentle was this woman?

She was tearing herself apart to get him through this, and her only concern was whether he was comfortable.

Back when he taught her, he’d likely trained her to endure pain, to keep moving no matter what.

But he never trained her to smile while she did it.

That part was just her.

Wanting to ease the load, he pushed a little more Rukh into the flame.

It was enough to burn hotter, producing stronger blasts, which had Safira’s eyes flick to his hand.

She nodded, acknowledging it with a wider smile.

’...unnaturally gentle.’