Enochia let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her gaze drifting back to the paper still clutched in her hand. She'd been so caught up in the loot high, and the subsequent rage-fueled fashion crisis that she'd almost forgotten about it. Now, with her accessories sorted, it was time to actually read the damn thing.

  "Alright, sad guy," she muttered, unfolding the brittle sheet. It felt old, like it'd been baked in Hell for too long, and it had yellowed edges, faint scorch marks and handwriting that looked like it'd been scratched in with a shaky quill. "Let's see what fresh trauma you've got for me this time."

  She narrowed her eyes, leaning in close as she focused the fuck up on the faded ink, piecing together the messy hieroglyphs of letters like a puzzle she'd solve or die trying. The scrawl was the same looping mess from the first diary, but she deciphered it perfectly, every sharp, clipped word snapping into clarity despite the scorch marks and age.

  ─────────────────────────────

  Day... screw the count.

  Today, I sealed another node inside that fallen tower.

  Heat's constant, ash chokes everything, but it's not just that anymore.

  I feel eyes on me, always. Not paranoia; it's real. It feels like the shadows have eyes, or the ground's got a heartbeat tracking my steps.

  Sealed every node I hunted down—smashed them, bound them tight, buried the remnants under tons of rubble. Should've cut off the spawns cold.

  Didn't.

  Demons keep materializing out of thin air.

  One ambushed me from a crack in the wall that was solid yesterday and clawed my arm before I torched it.

  Barely slept since.

  What's the play here? Some invisible network feeding them? Or am I cracking under this endless fight? Gotta stay sharp; can't afford to slip.

  Found something solid today.

  A book. Leather-bound, tough as nails, title scrubbed clean by time.

  Inside talks about "others" down here, not lone wolves like me, but actual holdouts. Communities, maybe even strongholds, buried deeper in the Depths.

  Sounds too good, like a trap or a delusion, but... what if?

  Carrying it with me; no way I'm leaving it behind. If there's a shot at linking up, at not rotting in this pit....

  Eyes are closer tonight.

  The cave I found earlier should lead to one of them.

  Moving after I sleep.

  Stay alive.

  You have much to live for.

  ─────────────────────────────

  Enochia scowled a bit as she read it, her lips twisting into that classic "what the actual fuck" grimace she'd perfected over the last... however many days in this fiery shithole. Three things jumped out to her.

  First off, zero mention of that weird-ass deer sculpture she'd smashed in the tower. Like, dude, how do you skip over a creepy metal stag just chilling in the ruins? He was all about detailing nodes and ambushes, but nada on the obvious boss-room bait? Sketchy.

  Second, he sealed those flesh thingies, the nodes. He said nodes with an s, meaning there probably were others scattered around... or not. This place was really fucked up. She found no nodes anywhere she went, except the one she drained dry. So, it was extremely likely that the Hell he explored wasn't the same as the one she herself did.

  A ton of things didn't add up, including those skeletons she found. They weren't violated, nor brutally murdered, but more like died peacefully. Why couldn't they just buy a drink from the store? Hell, how were there multiple of them at all? It was likely that Hell changed with time, but did that imply that those people were just fucking around here, waiting until someone else came, or that they came here at the same time? Why didn’t they even try and go to the cave and see if there was that community of survivors there. ‘Arggg, my brainy hurty. FUCK BEING SO DUMB, I need to evolve ASAP.’

  And third, about being watched... ‘I gotta say I felt the same, but just at one point, and it was at that church. That fucking eye painting really, really creeped me out. Could it be connected to anything?’

  She folded the paper with a bit more force than necessary, shoving it into her inventory. But her mind was still spinning. Wait a second... Since this guy is writing in perfect English, well not so perfect, more like a mix of ancient Egyptian English with all the clipped vibes and dramatic pauses, I can assume he is from a modern age, likely from the Day of Blood, or later. Why hasn't he mentioned that his angel is more reactive? This is such a glaring thing he should have mentioned, and he hasn't...

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Roo, are we special?”

  The response popped up almost instantly.

  [You're a special existence, Enochia.]

  She snorted, a grin cracking through the scowl despite herself. "Hmmm, I asked about our relationship, weirdo. Were you not allowed to speak to me in this way back on earth, and do angels want to speak to us, but just can’t?"

  The next popup flickered in almost hesitantly, like Roo was stalling.

  [I cannot answer that, Enochia.]

  Enochia blinked at the screen, her smirk fading into a puzzled frown. "Why? Can you at least give me some sort of explanation?"

  [...]

  The ellipsis hung there, mocking her, like the angel was buffering or straight-up ghosting. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a huff. "C'mon Roo... We go way back, right?"

  Finally, text bloomed across her vision.

  [Angels, by the order given to us, cannot directly communicate to the participants of the ███████████████████, by the command of ███ ███ ████████████]

  The redacted parts hit like a sonic boom straight to her skull. Enochia's eardrums exploded in a wet pop, a deafening buzz-humming roar flooding her head like a swarm of angry hornets trapped inside her brain. Blood trickled warm down her lobes, dripping onto her shoulders as her vision swam with black spots. She screamed in utter agony, the sound raw and guttural, her hands clawing at her ears like she could rip the noise out. "AHHH—FUCK—ROO, STO—"

  But the text kept coming, relentless, the redacted words pounding like hammers on her nerves.

  [By the decree of ███ █████████ ███████ and ███ ████, communication of those of the lower world level is prohibited]

  "STOP—PLEASE, ROO—AGHHH—MAKE IT STO—" She buckled forward, knees giving out like wet paper, but Cervain was there in a flash, his armored arms catching her mid-collapse before she hit the floor. She thrashed against him, tears mixing with the blood streaking her face, her screams fracturing into desperate gasps. "STOP—IT HURTS—FUCKING STOP—ROO, PLEASE—"

  The buzzing peaked, a white-hot lance through her temples, then mercifully faded, leaving her slumped in Cervain's grip, head throbbing with aftershocks. She panted, wiping blood from her chin with a shaky hand, glaring at the now-blank popup through watery eyes. "What... the actual... fuck, Roo? Was that... necessary?" Her voice cracked as she pushed herself upright, leaning on Cervain for support. 'Note to self: don't poke the divine NDA next time. Jesus, that hurt like a bitch.'

  She straightened slowly, wincing at the lingering hum in her skull. "Okay... message received, feathers. Loud and fucking clear." But damn, if that didn't raise more questions than it answered.

  'I guess there are some things I must not tease him about.' Enochia thought, still rubbing her temples like she could massage away the phantom buzz.

  'Roo honestly looked like he wanted to tell me something... But couldn't? What could possibly be stopping an angel, a fucking angel, from communicating with me as he pleased?’ The only thing that made sense was God, but that felt absurd to even think about. Like, the big G micromanaging chat logs? Nah, too petty.'

  And there it was again, that world level bullshit. She'd seen that only once before, and it was on Cervain. It looked like the world was also leveling with the people? The horns were the most obvious tell of that, since only stronger and stronger demons were coming out of them with each one.

  On the second, there was a demonic prince, and it was expected for five of them to appear during the third horn. Since Cervain scaled purely off of them, and since Roo was, well, Roo... She began to think her guardian angel might have pulled some loops to even tell her that information.

  Bending divine rules or whatever? For her? So she wasn't gonna be mad at him. As much as she liked to bitch, Roo was amazing and gave her amazing stuff. He also might have pulled the strings for her to even retain her stats and system. She remembered Roo saying that there was a part of Hell made for torture, well, implied it, not said it outright. Sneaky bird.

  'Damn Roo...' she mused, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she finally let go of Cervain's arm and stood on her own, ears still faintly ringing but the pain dulling to a manageable throb.

  'You wanna make me know you more and more.' Weird as it was, the mystery kinda hooked her. Like peeling layers off an onion.

  Behind her, she began to hear a noise, a low, guttural rasp that sent her blood running cold. She froze mid-thought, whipping around as she realized it was coming from the chained-up demon. "g-GELP MHE."

  She was shocked that she was able to hear him. That he was able to speak at all! With heart pounding, she rushed over, hopeful she could actually communicate with this strange, strange man—er, demon? Whatever. She clamped a hand over where his mouth should be, but his face was just a shadowy void under the helm, so she wasn't covering lips because he kinda didn't have them, but still. Somehow noise was coming out.

  She knew she wasn't in danger, but curiosity won out. "Whoa, hold up, Leon. Are you your human self now? Because if this is some trap to lure me in for a bite, I'll chain your ass to the ceiling instead."