An Illusion of Will

Chapter 27: Midnight Abyss

Al entered what was now Cesar's unit, deciding to stay there and forgo switching again. He descended the stairs and entered the brightly lit room. Placing his scratched sword in a corner, he approached the water trough to fill his canteen and quenched his thirst. 

His gaze fell upon the dream catcher, noticing that the top resembled a small, pointed knife. "I suppose I didn't really need this armor after all," he murmured, addressing his reflection in the water. Al removed the remaining pieces of armor, leaving only his blessed medical robe. 

"I can't move forward until I confront this fear of mine," he affirmed, closing his eyes and repeating the words in his mind. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled slowly, summoning his courage.

Al gradually opened his eyes and steeled himself for the task at hand. He began walking towards the dark room that seemed to be the focal point of his nightmares. With each step, his heart pounded harder, prompting him to move cautiously in an attempt to calm his nerves. Passing the stairs, Al sensed the air growing colder and more rigid.

Standing before the entrance, he stared into a darkness so profound that it seemed to stretch on infinitely. Regulating his breathing and steadying his heart rate, he stepped into the abyss. 

The warmth in his feet dissipated as they sank into the cool dirt, while the darkness expelled any trace of light. Al struggled to rein in his racing thoughts, which multiplied uncontrollably, threatening to overwhelm him. Nausea surged within him, threatening to overpower his resolve.

Just as he was about to succumb to the impending sickness, a distant voice, reached his ears. Al's body tensed, every hair standing on end. Instinctively, he turned toward the exit, but to his dismay, he found nothing but darkness. 

Panic gripped him as his surroundings remained shrouded in obscurity. As the voice drew nearer, his heart pounded furiously, until he could feel someone's breath tickling the back of his neck. 

Faced with every fiber of his being urging him to flee, Al defied his instincts. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and assumed a seated, cross-legged position. Ignoring the persistent voice echoing behind him, he recalled the instructions given by Romann.

Al's thoughts and consciousness soon merged seamlessly with the all-encompassing darkness of the room. There was no distinction between his closed and open eyes; both yielded an abyss devoid of light. 

Time, too, lost its significance, swallowed by the relentless void. After what seemed like an eternity, Al found himself traversing the darkness, his steps guided solely by intuition. His mind held no tangible thoughts, relying solely on instinct.

A compelling force beckoned him to continue moving forward, its pull growing stronger with each step. Suddenly, Al's footing faltered, and he braced himself for impact, but no ground met his fall. Instead, he found himself perpetually falling, as if trapped in an eternal plummet. 

The passage of time became hazy, and Al questioned whether he was truly falling or ascending or suspended within a vast expanse of night.

Within the encompassing darkness, faint outlines of undulating, crop-like structures materialized before Al's eyes.  His vision adapting to the surroundings, and his thoughts adapting as well. 

He was compelled to limit his thinking to the sporadic thoughts that surfaced on their own. As he continued to fall, he passed an unfathomable number of swaying crops witnessing their intricate movements.

The walls Al was falling in between of bore countless tunnels, each exhibiting unique sizes and characteristics. On closer inspection, he discerned that these were not crops but whip-like tentacles, emanating from a central base.