The space felt oppressive and suffocating, the darkness compressing around them like a physical weight. Yet, despite the heavy, stale air, their heartbeats swelled in their chests, pounding with an eager, erratic panic as if desperate to burst free.

Step by step, the Funeral Agency squad descended the abandoned stairwell into the abyss, looking less like professionals and more like a flock of helpless Lala Fats willingly marching into an ogre's maw.

Every one of them had activated the shoulder lights on their protective suits, even Little Lys, cradled securely on Ashe's back. Yet the beams did pitifully little to pierce the gloom. Visibility stretched barely five paces ahead. Beyond that, the blackness seemed alive, undulating and wobbling like thick gelatin.

"Ah!"

Everyone jumped, weapons pivoting instantly toward the source of the cry, Ashe and Lys.

Stammering, Lys whimpered, "J-just now, the wind blew right into my clothes…...