"Haaa... haa...."

Rey leaned against the rubble, his breathing gradually stabilizing as the immediate panic of survival began to fade into cold calculation.

His Divine-grade armor bore visible cracks from Pride’s annihilation wave—fractures that ran across the chest plate and shoulder guards, damage that would normally require expert craftsmen weeks to repair properly.

He examined the injuries with professional detachment, already calculating how long he’d need to avoid combat while operating with compromised protection.

Then something extraordinary happened.

The cracks began to heal.

Not metaphorically—the actual physical damage was reversing itself. Mystical energy flowed through the armor’s internal channels with purpose that suggested conscious intent, flowing toward damaged sections and reconstructing them at molecular levels.

Rey watched with fascination as fractures sealed themselves, as dents smoothed back into perfect curves, as the entire armor restored itself to pristine condition within approximately thirty seconds.

’What—?’

He accessed the armor’s mystical signature through his soul-bond, his enhanced perception analyzing what had just occurred.

The Divine-grade equipment wasn’t merely repairing itself through standard self-maintenance enchantments. It was evolving—adapting to the attack that had damaged it, incorporating understanding of Pride’s annihilation technique into its defensive matrix to provide enhanced resistance against similar future assaults.

’Incredible,’ Rey thought, genuine awe mixing with his strategic calculations. ’This armor doesn’t just protect—it learns. Each attack that damages it makes it stronger against that specific threat type. Given enough exposure to different combat situations...’

The implications were staggering. This wasn’t just Divine-grade equipment—this was artifact operating under principles that approached what only Archangels typically possessed. Possibly even connected to Ethereal Conception frameworks given its ability to transcend normal enchantment limitations.

’Where did Valdris obtain something like this?’ Rey wondered briefly. ’Divine Artifacts of this caliber should be vanishingly rare even among Devils and Angels. For an Archduke to possess it suggests either extraordinary personal achievement or...’

Or arrangements made by someone operating at scales exceeding what normal True Realm power structures allowed.

Lucifer’s arrangements.

The thought crystallized with cold certainty. The armor’s adaptive capabilities, its presence in the Labyrinth where the Prince of Darkness awaited, the timing of its discovery—all of it aligned too perfectly to be coincidental.

’Ater positioned this,’ Rey concluded. ’Just like he positioned the Prince, the prophecy, every element that led me to this moment. The armor was meant for whoever fulfilled Lucifer’s conditions.’

Which meant its capabilities might extend beyond what he’d discovered so far.

But investigation would have to wait. His immediate priority was survival and advancement through the dungeon’s remaining layers.

Rey forced himself to stand despite lingering pain from mystical backlash, assessing his tactical situation with professional detachment.

He was alone.

His unit was destroyed.

Standard evacuation protocols impossible given the distance from safe zones and his depleted condition. Angels were engaged fighting Generals across the dungeon—assistance wouldn’t arrive quickly enough to matter.

Which meant he needed to advance independently while avoiding detection by both Hollow Creatures and the remaining Generals.

’Standard approach won’t work,’ Rey calculated. ’Moving as an obvious Searcher invites attack from entities I’m not prepared to fight in my current condition. But if I could disguise myself as native to this environment...’

The idea formed with cold clarity.

Hollow Creatures.

Anti-life entities created through plague corruption. Similar in fundamental principle to what his own Hollow Technique produced.

’If I could replicate their mystical signature, make myself appear as one of them rather than a living intruder...’

It was dangerous.

Any mistake in the disguise would immediately expose him to overwhelming assault. But remaining stationary was equally dangerous—the dungeon’s corruption would eventually erode his defenses regardless of the armor’s protection.

Rey committed to the plan.

He withdrew to deeper shadow within the collapsed building’s alcove, positioning himself where casual observation wouldn’t detect him, then began the complex process of mystical transformation.

"Chaos Art, Hollow Technique, Sequence #4: Undying Host."

The technique activated with precision born from three years practicing in the Labyrinth’s depths. His mystical signature shifted, living Ether adopting characteristics of anti-life coherence that defined Hollow Creatures’ existence.

His appearance remained unchanged—physical transformation would be too obvious and difficult to maintain—but his mystical presence evolved into something that registered as plague-corrupted undead rather than living Nephilim.

Rey tested the disguise carefully, extending his senses to analyze how he appeared to detect techniques that might identify threats.

’Mystical signature reads as Tier 7 Hollow Creature. Appearance suggests recently transformed victims rather than ancient undead. Plague corruption overlay masks Divine-grade armor and genuine capabilities.’

It was good enough. Not perfect—close examination by elite Angels or Generals would penetrate the deception—but sufficient to avoid casual detection by standard Hollow Creatures.

Rey emerged from his alcove and began advancing deeper into the corrupted city.

The effect was immediate and dramatic.

Hollow Creatures that would normally attack living intruders on sight instead ignored him completely. They shambled past without recognition, their empty eye sockets tracking movement but finding nothing worthy of assault.

Some even moved aside to clear his path—instinctive deference suggesting they recognized him as a fellow corrupted entity rather than prey.

Rey maintained the disguise carefully while his enhanced perception catalogued the environment’s characteristics.

The second boundary layer showed significantly more advanced corruption than the first—buildings twisted at angles that made navigation conceptually difficult, streets running in impossible directions, spatial distortions requiring constant mystical correction.

And everywhere, Hollow Creatures in numbers that suggested the plague had transformed entire population centers.

He passed groups of dozens without incident. Walked through areas where hundreds shambled in coordinated patterns that suggested unified controlling intelligence. Even encountered several advanced variants similar to what Seraphine had fought—Tier 5 equivalents that possessed retained intelligence and sophisticated combat capabilities.

All of them ignored him completely, accepting his disguised mystical signature as confirmation of plague corruption rather than living infiltration.

’This is working better than anticipated,’ Rey calculated while advancing through what appeared to be a former marketplace. ’The Hollow Creatures’ detection methods rely entirely on mystical signature analysis—they can’t distinguish between genuine plague corruption and my Hollow Technique imitation.’

Hours passed in steady progress. Rey moved deeper into the dungeon, passing through the second boundary layer into the third where corruption intensified to levels that made breathing difficult even through protective equipment.

The third layer showed architectural impossibilities that exceeded what the earlier sections displayed—buildings existing in multiple states simultaneously, streets forming closed loops that shouldn’t be geometrically possible, shadows moving independently of their light sources.

And the Hollow Creatures here were stronger. Tier 6 and Tier 5 equivalents were common rather than exceptional, their mystical pressure creating ambient weight that would crush normal Searchers through proximity alone.

But they still ignored Rey, accepting his disguise without question.

He advanced cautiously but steadily, his strategic objectives crystallizing with each kilometer traversed.

’If I can reach the fourth or fifth boundary layers while maintaining this disguise, I’ll be positioned far beyond where normal Searchers penetrate. The Church rewards advancement based on depth achieved—reaching areas that require Angel-tier power to access would justify exceptional recognition.’

’And if I can observe the Emperor of Death directly, gather intelligence about its capabilities and weaknesses, perhaps even establish contact before the Church’s assault reaches it...’

The possibilities were extraordinary. This expedition could provide advancement opportunities that would take years to achieve through normal methods.

***

Meanwhile...

Second Boundary Layer, Pride’s Battlefield.

The three Angels stood among devastation that exceeded what normal combat could produce, their armor cracked and bleeding from wounds that penetrated even divine protection.

Pride’s body—or what remained of it—lay dissolving into ambient corruption approximately twenty meters away, its darkness fragmenting under sustained assault that had required everything the Angels possessed.

Angel Commander Uriel collapsed to one knee, blood streaming from dozens of injuries that would have killed normal practitioners instantly.

His mystical reserves were depleted to perhaps ten percent, multiple techniques were on extended cooldown, and his emergency Divine Artifacts had been consumed completely.

"Status," he gasped through damaged lungs.

"Critically injured," Angel Healer Raphael reported, her voice carrying strain that suggested her own condition approached failure. "Ether reserves at twelve percent. Multiple organs damaged beyond field repair capability. Estimated combat effectiveness: twenty percent maximum."

"Similar," the third Angel—Commander Zadkiel—confirmed. "That entity’s power exceeded intelligence projections by a significant margin. Tier 3 classification was accurate, but its combat capabilities approached what only Archangels should wield."

Uriel nodded grimly despite the pain. "The Emperor’s Generals are more dangerous than anticipated. If all six operate at similar levels..."

He didn’t need to complete the thought. The implications were obvious and catastrophic.

Forty thousand Searchers faced six entities that could each engage multiple Angels simultaneously.

The mortality rate wouldn’t be forty percent—it would approach ninety percent or higher. Only those with exceptional capabilities or extraordinary luck would survive to reach the cathedral.

"We need to report this to Archangel Michael," Raphael stated. "Adjust tactical planning based on revised threat assessment."

"Agreed," Uriel confirmed. "But first, we secure this area and—"

He paused, his detection techniques identifying something that made his expression shift to confusion.

"There was a survivor," he stated with surprise. "One of the Searchers in the unit Pride annihilated. I’m detecting residual mystical signatures that suggest someone survived the General’s area annihilation technique."

Zadkiel’s eyes widened. "Impossible. That technique operated at scales that would erase anything below Angel-tier completely. No normal Searcher could have—"

"The signature is genuine," Uriel interrupted. "Someone survived through unknown means, then departed while we engaged Pride. Track indicates they advanced deeper into the dungeon rather than retreating toward safe zones."

The three Angels exchanged glances that mixed professional interest with concern.

"We should investigate," Raphael suggested. "Anyone capable of surviving Pride’s assault deserves immediate evaluation for potential Angel candidacy."

"Later," Uriel decided. "Our current condition prevents effective pursuit, and securing this boundary layer takes priority. But flag the signature for follow-up investigation—if they survive long enough to reach areas we can access safely, we’ll identify them properly."

The Angels began coordinating emergency treatment and tactical repositioning, their attention shifting away from the mysterious survivor toward more immediate concerns.

None of them noticed Pride’s fragmenting consciousness making final observations before dissolution completed.

***

Pride’s awareness faded rapidly as the Angels’ sustained assault finally achieved decisive effect.

Its form was dissolving, darkness fragmenting into corruption that would disperse harmlessly rather than reconstituting. The technique they’d used—some combination of Sequence #1 Joint Arts enhanced by divine blessing—had inflicted damage that exceeded its regeneration capabilities.

It was dying. Truly and permanently, unlike the temporary defeats Hollow Creatures typically experienced.

But Pride didn’t rage against inevitable annihilation. Didn’t curse the Angels or bemoan tactical failures.

Instead, it laughed—sound that made reality itself seem to shudder in rejection.

"Hahahaha... HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Angels tensed, preparing for a final desperate assault, but Pride’s attention wasn’t focused on them.

Its fragmenting consciousness reached toward memory of the small Nephilim who’d survived impossibly, who’d possessed Divine-grade armor and Chaos Art mastery despite appearing as mere Gold-rank Searcher, who’d carried mystical signature that resonated with something Pride recognized but couldn’t quite identify.

’That one,’ Pride thought as dissolution accelerated. ’Not the Angels with their borrowed divine power. Not the Searchers with their desperate coordination. Not even the Paladins with their decades of training.’

’But that small Nephilim who survived through capabilities he shouldn’t possess, who demonstrated understanding of principles these fools don’t comprehend.’

Its laughter intensified as final realization crystallized.

’He is worthy.’