Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate - Chapter 214 214: Canyon
They reached the base of the mountain range just after noon.
The light had softened—filtered through the narrow crags and dusty haze of the Vermillion peaks, casting long shadows across the winding trail ahead. The path wasn’t paved, but the Hollow Fang didn’t need it to be. Its suspension adjusted for every rock, every incline, each shift in wind density.
They hadn’t spoken since the city faded behind them.
There was no need.
This stretch of land, though tagged on older maps, was a gray zone.
Not a sanctioned hunting ground.
Not a declared safe zone.
Just wilderness—the kind that teetered on the edge of being reclaimed by nature and things worse than nature.
That’s how it would be—if they were anywhere else.
Anywhere not cradled in the shadow of Vermillion City.
Because Vermillion wasn’t just big.
It was engineered.
A beacon of stability in a fractured continent, its reach extended well past its glittering skyline. Mana surveillance towers. Underground leyline regulators. Subtle drones disguised as drifting dust motes.
Even in the outer ranges, civilization pressed down like a net.
Which meant most of the mountain roads—especially those within half a day’s ride—weren’t true wilderness.
They were moderated.
Cleaned just enough to be tolerable for exploration permits and low-tier expedition licenses. Any real monster threats were quietly culled by rotational sweeps. Even the ecosystem had been “stabilized”—controlled burns, mana soil treatments, ambient pressure wards to steer wild creatures away from public paths.
The kind of place where danger felt possible.
But never probable.
Which made it perfect camouflage.
Because no one looked for secrets where they felt secure.
And Damien knew this route—this one exactly—had slipped through the cracks.
Not entirely forgotten.
Just ignored.
Too wild for official development.
Too tame for true hunters.
A dead zone between interest and threat.
It was the kind of place bureaucracies didn’t invest in.
And that was exactly why it still hid something.
The Hollow Fang whispered across a stretch of half-ruined road, long overtaken by moss and mineral buildup. Here and there, old maintenance beacons blinked with long-dead power. A cracked Guild marker—barely visible beneath the dust—warned of “Residual Aberrations” but listed no active bounties.
Which meant no one had checked it in months.
Perfect.
They passed another curve, wind dipping low across a shallow ravine where stunted trees clung to stone.
A presence stirred.
Faint.
Nothing major. Just the ambient mana signature of a second-tier predator. Quadrupedal. Fast, maybe venomous. The kind of thing that’d spook a novice team into doubling back.
Elysia didn’t even acknowledge it.
Her fingers flicked subtly by her thigh, and the creature’s signature simply… collapsed.
A moment of stillness.
Then a rustle of leaves where something had been.
They were nearing the plateau.
And beneath it—the canyon.
The trail narrowed, leveling out as the wind shifted.
Then—
A dip.
Subtle. Natural.
But Damien felt it in the bones of the terrain. The way the path stopped being a path and became something else. Less guided. More ancient. Like the land itself had sunken deliberately to cradle what lay beyond.
Elysia’s voice broke the silence—calm, composed.
“We’ve arrived.”
She slowed the Hollow Fang to a crawl, then brought it to a complete stop near the ridge. The mana suspension released with a quiet hiss, and the vehicle settled onto the earth.
Damien stepped off first, boots crunching against stone and coarse dust. He said nothing. Just took three slow steps forward until the canyon came into full view.
And there it was.
The fold in the earth.
Vast. Silent. Unmapped.
It cut through the mountains like a wound—broad at the mouth, narrowing inward like the jaws of something too old to name. The cliff walls were steep, layered in red-gold sediment and veins of black mineral streaks that shimmered faintly under the filtered sunlight.
No signage. No fencing. No Guild warning runes.
Just the air.
Still.
Heavy.
Not malevolent—but intentional.
Damien let out a slow breath.
In the game, the canyon had existed.
Barely.
A single patch of dead terrain nestled between unfinished sidequests and empty monster spawns. Beautiful in a kind of half-rendered way. Orange cliffs. Mist shadows. A looped ambient track that gave it weight it didn’t deserve on a portable screen.
And this could not compare to a mere screen.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, scanning the far ridge where the canyon dipped into shadow. It was there. The bend. The switchback path barely visible from this distance—the one that led to the entrance of the space, or something else.
He stared into the canyon a moment longer, letting his eyes adjust to the subtle gradient of shade and rock.
And then—
He saw it.
Not in the obvious way.
Not like spotting a trail of footprints or the shimmer of an illusion spell.
It was subtler than that.
A pattern.
A curve in the sediment too smooth to be natural.
A glint of mineral reflection that repeated—five meters apart. A rhythm embedded in the stone.
A path.
Faint.
Hidden by design.
And yet—visible to him.
Damien exhaled slowly, the corners of his mouth curving.
‘This is indeed interesting.’
In the game, the first player to find the canyon hadn’t seen anything. They’d stumbled into it after twenty hours of screwing around with broken quest flags and an item meant for a different area entirely.
Luck.
Pure, improbable accident.
But this?
He wasn’t lucky.
He was evolving.
Whether it was [Neural Predator] tuning his pattern recognition beyond normal capacity… or something deeper bleeding in from his trait [Singularity], he didn’t know.
But he could feel it.
The design.
The invitation.
Not spoken, not granted.
But exposed.
And it was all he needed.
He turned slightly, eyes landing on Elysia, who waited without speaking, her gaze locked on him like she already knew a command was coming.
“We go on foot from here,” he said calmly. “Barefoot.”
No explanation. No reasoning. Just the rule.
Elysia nodded.
No protest.
She turned smoothly, powered down the Hollow Fang with a press of her palm, and slid off the seat. Her boots were unfastened in seconds. Left by the stabilizer panel. She stood straight again, her mana robes shifting slightly in the canyon wind.
Damien stepped out of his own shoes with a quiet breath.
The ground beneath them was dry. Cool. Unforgiving.
Perfect.
The wind changed the moment they stepped into the canyon.
It wasn’t dramatic. Not a gust. Not a howl.
Just a subtle shift in air pressure—like crossing an unseen barrier.
Damien felt it settle on his skin: dry, ancient, watching.
‘Interesting…..Is this something only I feel?’
Was there a gaze watching him, or was it something else?
Maybe it was his ‘intention’ that might have triggered something.
Maybe not.
But he didn’t mind this feeling.
Elysia fell in behind him without a word, her steps perfectly balanced despite the lack of boots. Her mana was quiet, held close to the skin, but Damien could feel it—like heat radiating from a stone that had been resting under the sun for hours.
Protective. Calculated. Ready.
Because in this place, he was still—by system definition—vulnerable.
Unawakened.
Unranked.
The canyon walls began to rise around them, red-gold stone streaked with old mana-scars. This wasn’t a hunting ground. Not officially. But the presence was there.
Low pulses in the air.
A faint twitch in the static of the world.
Wild mana.
Untamed.
It wasn’t dense, but it was charged. Like the canyon didn’t simply house things—it kept them. And the further in they walked, the more obvious it became.
Tracks.
Scorch marks.
Cracked stone.
Some recent. Some old.
Most ignored.
Because no one ever came far enough to report them.
And then—movement.
A rustle.
High. Fast.
The cliff edge, maybe fifteen meters up.
Damien’s eyes flicked toward the sound.
Too late.
It dropped.
A creature—lithe, hunched, low-slung. Black fur with oily sheen, too many joints in its limbs, and fangs like forged obsidian. Fast.
Faster than even Damien’s partially awakened body could sense.
SWOOSH!
And it struck.
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
