Danmachi: Bell Gojo

Bell stood over the fallen Dullahan, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of the battle. His fists still crackled with residual energy, the final remnants of the power he'd summoned for that last, decisive blow. The knight's dark armor lay scattered on the cracked ground, the cursed energy that had once animated it now dissipated into the air like mist at dawn. Silence settled over the barren landscape, the oppressive weight of the dungeon momentarily lifted.

Ottar approached, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness. His usually imposing figure was marred by exhaustion, his once pristine armor battered and scorched. Yet, despite the weariness etched on his face, there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes. They had faced the dungeon's horrors together and emerged victorious. He gave a single nod, his respect for Bell now solidified in the crucible of combat.

"You fought well, Bell," Ottar said, his voice deep and unwavering, yet tinged with a rare hint of approval. "But this is not the end. The true heart of the dungeon still lies ahead."

Bell nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. The victory was sweet, but Ottar's words were a sober reminder that their journey was far from over. The gate loomed before them, its massive structure now silent and foreboding, as if guarding the secrets of the dungeon's deepest levels.

They approached the gate together, their steps heavy with anticipation. The ancient runes carved into the obsidian surface pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Bell could feel a dark energy emanating from within, a cold and unwelcoming presence that sent shivers down his spine. Whatever awaited them beyond this point was unlike anything they had faced before.

Ottar placed a hand on the gate, his fingers tracing the runes. "These markings… they speak of a world beyond death. The Underworld, where the souls of the damned are said to wander for eternity."

Bell swallowed hard, the weight of Ottar's words sinking in. "So, this is it," he murmured. "The final test."

Ottar nodded, then, with a forceful push, the gate began to creak open. The ground trembled beneath them as the massive doors swung inward, revealing a swirling vortex of dark energy. A cold wind rushed out, carrying with it the faint whispers of voices—mournful, pleading, and filled with despair.

Without hesitation, the two warriors stepped through the gateway, crossing the threshold into the unknown.

Floor 80: The Abyss

The transition was immediate and disorienting. One moment, they were standing in the barren wasteland of the 79th floor, and the next, they were plunged into darkness so complete it was as if light itself had been banished. The air was heavy and oppressive, pressing down on them from all sides. Bell could feel the dungeon's malevolent gaze upon them, more intense now than ever before.

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they began to make out faint shapes and outlines in the gloom. They were in a vast cavern, the walls of which seemed to pulsate with a dark, otherworldly energy. The ground was uneven, covered in jagged rocks and twisted roots that seemed to writhe and coil on their own.

But it was the atmosphere that was most unsettling. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something far worse—fear. It hung in the air like a palpable force, making it difficult to breathe, to think, to move. The whispers that had been faint before were now louder, more insistent, echoing through the cavern in a cacophony of tortured souls.

Bell gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. He could feel his resolve wavering, the oppressive darkness gnawing at his confidence. But he couldn't afford to falter now. Not after everything they had been through. He looked over at Ottar, who stood like an immovable pillar of strength, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement.

"Stay close," Ottar said, his voice cutting through the darkness. "This place… it feeds on fear. We mustn't let it break us."

Bell nodded, steeling himself. He activated his Infinity, a faint aura of neutral energy surrounding him, pushing back against the suffocating atmosphere. It was a small comfort, a reminder that he still had power here, that he wasn't completely at the mercy of this dark place.

They moved forward cautiously, their senses on high alert. The cavern seemed to stretch on endlessly, the darkness pressing in on them from all sides. Every step they took echoed unnaturally, the sound distorted and warped by the dungeon's malevolent influence.

As they ventured deeper, the ground began to slope downward, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. The whispers grew louder, more distinct, and Bell could almost make out words now—pleas for mercy, cries of anguish, voices begging for release from some unimaginable torment.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath them gave way. Bell and Ottar plunged downward, the darkness swallowing them whole.

They landed hard on a cold, unforgiving surface. Bell groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his body aching from the impact. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, but the darkness was impenetrable. Ottar was already up, scanning the area for threats, his axe at the ready.

"Where are we?" Bell asked, his voice pissed off due to the seemingly random fall as his reverse cursed technique fully finished fixing him up.

Ottar didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, conjuring a small flame that flickered weakly in the darkness, barely illuminating their surroundings. They were in a vast chamber, the walls lined with what appeared to be ancient tombs. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, and the whispers were louder now, filling the chamber with a constant, maddening drone.

"This is the heart of the dungeon," Ottar finally said, his voice grim. "The Abyss. The place where the souls of the dead are said to be trapped for eternity."

Bell felt a chill run down his spine. He had heard stories of the Abyss, whispered tales among adventurers who spoke of it in hushed tones. No one had ever confirmed its existence, and those who claimed to have seen it had never returned to tell the tale.

Before Bell could respond, the tombs began to shift. The stone lids slowly slid open, releasing a wave of cold, dark energy. From within the tombs emerged figures draped in tattered robes, their skeletal hands grasping ancient weapons. Their eyes glowed with an unholy light, and the air grew even colder as they stepped forward, their movements slow and deliberate.

"Wraiths," Ottar muttered, his grip tightening on his axe. "Souls bound to this place, forever cursed to guard the heart of the dungeon."

Bell's heart pounded in his chest. These were no ordinary monsters; they were the remnants of adventurers who had fallen in the dungeon's depths, their souls twisted and corrupted by the Abyss. They moved with a slow, deliberate grace, their eyes locked onto Bell and Ottar with a hunger that spoke of centuries of torment.

Without a word, Bell charged forward, his fists blazing with cursed energy. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, but the wraiths seemed almost unaffected, their ethereal forms barely flinching under the onslaught. They responded with their own attacks, their weapons moving with unnatural speed, slicing through the air with a bone-chilling shriek.

Ottar joined the fray, his axe cleaving through the wraiths with brutal force, but for every one they destroyed, more emerged from the tombs. It was as if the Abyss itself was determined to overwhelm them, to crush their spirits beneath the weight of its despair.

Bell gritted his teeth, focusing his energy. He couldn't let them win. He couldn't let this place consume them. He called upon the new technique he had recently mastered, feeling the familiar surge of power as he combined his Infinity with the Reversal Red. A small, pink orb formed in his hand, its surface crackling with energy.

"Neutral Reversal: Pink!" he shouted, hurling the orb at the nearest group of wraiths.

It worked as a fusion of the barrier or slowing down the opponent with the infinity part of the techinique and the red part crushed the opponent with its repulsive properties against the barrier thus crushing the target.

The orb exploded on contact, a shockwave of pink energy rippling through the chamber. The wraiths caught in its path were slowed to a crawl, their movements sluggish and disjointed as the orb's energy crushed them with the force of Reversal Red. Their forms disintegrated into dust, leaving nothing behind but the faintest trace of cursed energy.

But even as Bell unleashed his power, the Abyss responded in kind. The ground beneath them began to tremble, and from the shadows emerged a figure larger and more imposing than the others—a Lich, its skeletal form draped in regal robes, its eye sockets glowing with a dark, malevolent light. It raised a bony hand, and the wraiths seemed to rally around it, their attacks growing more coordinated, more ferocious.

Bell felt his strength waning, the exhaustion of the battles finally catching up to him. Ottar was faring no better, his movements slower, his strikes less forceful. They were being pushed back, the sheer numbers of the wraiths overwhelming them.

Just as it seemed that all hope was lost, Bell's mismatched eyes flickered with a new understanding, he had awakened it the full power of his eyes. he decided to try one last thing before he took himself and his partner in crime out of here. He stood in an almost too casual and calm pose, put a hand onto Ottar's shoulder and held out his Left hand, he then interlaced his middlefinger behind his pointer finger and spoke, his voice a chilling whisper of death and destruction.

Domain Expansion: Unlimited Void. 

A black sphere envelloped both The duo and the monsters and hid it form sight, as it broke apart the duo emerged victorious and Bell teleported himslef and Ottar to the safety of Floor 18.