Sam flexed his arm, still

  expecting it to sting. Nadia’s ointment had worked. She’d mentioned how the

  herbs they gathered were very potent, but Sam still couldn’t believe it. He

  felt a little boost when she applied it. An icy chill washed over him, giving

  him a temporary buff of vitality. That felt good and sparked even more

  questions. Nadia ignored most of his inquiries, turning him over to a man named

  Quentin.

  They stood in what looked like a square metal bucket with Quentin and

  five other men. They wore identical leather pants and olive-green shirts under

  thin sheets of iron armor engineered to clasp to them, folding over shoulder

  and torso. Sam had stared at the armor long enough to realize he couldn’t read

  the rune. He’d assumed the system covered every language on the Island, but

  he’d been wrong.

  Some of his words didn’t

  translate, as he’d learned with Wexi. That meant he had to be careful how he

  communicated with the Forgers. One wrong word could push six short blades

  against his neck in a second.

  The largest man in the

  front of the bucket stared at them, his deep sea of blue eyes scanning as if

  checking for flaws. His bald head seemed to glisten, taking light from the

  overhead orbs. These were different from the rune lights in Jin’s. Their glow carried

  a tangible presence as though they were living essences trapped in the orb. Sam

  looked back down to catch the man watching him. His eyes sinister and

  threatening now, the warmth vanished. Sam stood straight. He imagined he looked

  scared, but that didn’t matter. He was supposed to fear them. They were

  trained, and most, if not all, of them had bled in combat. They carried the

  awe-inspiring vibe of strength and reliability. He should be grateful that they

  had let Wexi drag them into letting him tag along.

  “New Bugs,” the man said,

  eyes still fixed on Sam, but Quentin pushed forward, dragging Sam along. The

  others moved behind them and Sam felt a lump in his throat. The man in front

  was taller than the two, with a thick neck and a scarred upper lip. He was the

  poster boy for Hollywood musclemen. His arms were twice the size of Sam’s.

  Everything about him was twice Sam’s. And his voice carried the slow horrors of

  torture nightmares. His eyes bore into them, but Quentin gazed back at him

  coolly, so Sam did the same. He straightened his back, letting the weight of

  the iron spear Wexi had let him borrow anchor him as he stared up. His

  breathing came in and out slowly, as Wexi taught him. One other thing the

  Scavengers didn’t know, meditation was part of the system’s way of assessing the

  mind. Sam tried it, calming his racing heart. His fear amused him. He’d faced a

  mutated Lix with a wooden spear, yet he was about to throw up from looking at a

  muscled man.

  “We are here to watch you

  hunt,” the man said, his voice crisp. He had his hands clasped in front of him.

  “We will not be helping you, even when it gets difficult. You are to learn how

  to hunt on your own. The objective is to get your first domain. We will only

  intervene when the monsters overwhelm you… no, when your death is assured.”

  That sent a shiver of

  worry into Sam, but he said nothing. They looked capable enough to protect him,

  and there were five of them. That was good enough for him. He had survived with

  worse odds before.

  “Vale, sir,” Quentin

  said, his voice forced. Sam glanced at the man, catching how rigid he was.

  “What will we be hunting? I wasn’t given any information about that.” He turned

  to Sam, eyeing his spear. “Or any specialized weapon. I fear I might be at a disadvantage…

  sir.”

  Vale glowered at him and

  Sam felt Quentin squirm beside him. He hadn’t thought the spear he was holding

  was a specialized weapon. And he hadn’t even noticed that Quentin didn’t give

  off the same aura as the others. Vale stretched his hand to Sam, gesturing for

  him to hand over the spear. Sam hesitated, unsure what the repercussions for

  disobedience would be. He stretched it to the man, scowling at Quentin as he

  did.

  Vale stared at the spear,

  checking the sharp tip and then the bottom. He held it horizontally, his eyes

  moving along the iron shaft. Then he tossed it back to Sam, shaking his head.

  He gestured for Quentin to give him the rifle slung on his shoulder. The

  younger man hesitated, turning to look at Sam. He reluctantly gave it to the

  leader of the squad.

  “A specialized weapon

  comes with your advancement, Quentin,” Vale said, bringing up the rifle. It was

  nothing Sam had ever seen. It was straightforward—a round, iron butt stretched

  to a large chamber that Sam assumed housed the gears that filtered and transferred

  the stored essence that would get fired through the long barrel. The trigger

  below was a small extension of iron that, when squeezed against the stock,

  would fire the stored rounds. He’d thought they shot pure essence, but Wexi had

  corrected him. Most of the guns carried rune stones that could reconstruct

  essence like a spell.

  “Your domain allows you

  to equip specific weapons, with properties associated with that domain,” Vale

  said, and then in a whisper, he added, “There are no specialized weapons in the

  Forge that either of you can equip. Now, shut your pampered trap and get ready

  to hunt. The monsters are there. However, you choose to get to the level

  required for your advancement will be determined by you. But I should warn you.

  The caves below the city are dangerous. And you might still die even with our

  help.”

  “Are we splitting up?”

  Sam asked, proud that he didn’t sound like he felt. Vale regarded him for a

  moment before shaking his head. Sam could picture the man in an action movie, a

  car speeding while he blitzed through his enemies with a high-function gun from

  the back seat.

  “We will stay behind

  you,” Vale said. “Hidden, so we do not interfere with what you do. We will stay

  far enough to notice when you are in trouble, but not close enough for you to

  see us. If you are careful, you will get out of this with nothing more than

  injuries and lessons learned.” He turned to Sam, annoyance bleeding out of him

  as he said, “Or you don’t come out of it at all.”

  He stepped into the

  bucket, pushing Sam back into someone behind with his bulk. He raised a fist

  and someone behind Sam pushed a lever. The crank was loud enough to wake the

  dead, but the bucket slowly descended, sliding down the canyon wall on a large

  chain-like system that Sam decided he was going to ask Wexi about later. The

  descent took all of ten minutes and once they reached the base, Vale opened the

  bucket and walked out. The air here was foul, a stench permeating everything.

  It was violent, almost choking him. He coughed harshly, getting looks from the

  others. Quentin sauntered over to a boulder to throw up, heaving as though his

  throat was blocked or his stomach empty. Vale and his team let them suffer for

  as long as they could until they felt good enough to continue. Sam felt the

  same thing he’d sensed when he went to the forest with Veena. The concentration

  of essence was strong down here, and the accumulation had warped the

  environment.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Follow me,” Vale called

  and Sam did. They walked up a slim incline, trekking up the side of the canyon.

  The road could only take one at a time, so Sam walked right behind Quentin

  while Vale led in front. Some parts of it were so thin they had to shuffle

  through, their bodies glued to the wall. They found the first lip a few minutes

  later. The opening was a little bigger than Vale’s bulk. He stopped just in

  front of it, gesturing for Sam and Quentin to go in. Sam looked down from the

  lip, hating the overwhelming sensation that rushed up his chest and throat.

  Then he turned to the opening. The inside was dark. It hid whatever horrors it

  had well, but Sam perceived the sickening smell from within.

  “What is that smell?” he

  asked, hesitating at the edge of the opening.

  “No one knows really,”

  one of the other five said. This one was darker-skinned and almost built like

  Vale, except he was shorter. He looked like an old tree, firm and sturdy. He

  was the only one not giving Sam the lightning bolt stare. Sam wished he knew

  the man’s name. “It is not the smell of dead monsters. We have checked. Wexi

  thinks it is corruption from accumulated essence. But it could be a monster

  itself, with an absurd aura. There ar—”

  “Enough, Dax,” Vale

  growled. Sam nodded at the man and Dax shrugged. Vale glared at Sam, nodding

  for him to move along. “You delay and you waste our time and increase the

  chance of being turned into the prey of larger monsters. You stay in there long

  enough and you will find large mutated beasts. Go in fast, get as many as you

  can, and get out.”

  “What is in there?”

  Quentin asked, gripping his rifle like it was a magic wand.

  “Monsters,” Vale said,

  visibly annoyed now. “You are not children. I won’t be holding your hands

  through this. The cave is filled with low-rank monsters. You should have a

  basic understanding of EoM and how to gather EoM points. Now, go in.”

  Sam sniffed the air,

  frowning at the horrid stench. It was not just the smell that held him back. It

  was the absolute darkness. He couldn’t see anything in front of him, so he put

  one foot through the hole, testing for hard ground. He found none, only empty

  space. He was about to tell Vale what he’d discovered when he felt hands shove

  him in. The emptiness welcomed him and Sam yelled as he fell. It was a brief

  fall though. He groaned, cursing Vale as he stood up. Quentin landed beside

  him. Sam could tell it was him from the harsh scent of citrus and sweat. The

  other man had been sweating since he asked Vale about the specialized weapon.

  They stood in silence, Sam shuffling to bring out the rune light Wexi gave him

  from his utility belt.

  Suddenly a silver-blue

  shone above them. Light sprayed from it, projected by a multi-layered glass

  system. Each layer pushed the light further, illuminating farther into the

  darkness. Quentin grinned, giving Sam a condescending smile as he let another

  two orbs float before him, cumulatively lighting up the chamber they had landed

  in.

  “No light and no way

  out,” Sam said, picking up his spear where he’d dropped it. He couldn’t see the

  hole above them, even though it wasn’t so far up. Somewhere in his heart, he

  wished Vale would fall on an upright spear, but he turned to his partner. “You

  think they will really come down?”

  “Vale is one of the most

  decorated squad leaders in the Forge; he wouldn’t give his word if he doesn’t

  mean to follow it,” Quentin said. Sam wasn’t sure, but he could still hear the

  sneer in his voice. He shrugged it away, moving with Quentin when he realized

  the lights moved when he did.

  The chamber itself was a

  round room of smooth rough stone. Much of the walls were covered in scratches

  and claws. Bones littered the edges, and Sam could see the stain of old blood.

  He looked up again, hating how boxed-in they were. There was no escaping

  whatever monsters they were to face unless Vale came down for them. Sam didn’t

  much like the idea of putting his life in the hands of any of the men up there.

  “Here,” Quentin called,

  standing before a half-fallen doorway. It looked cut smooth, even though the

  rest of the place looked hewn naturally.

  They walked out into a

  hallway wide enough for the two of them to walk abreast. Quentin had his rifle

  up and ready to fire. He suddenly looked capable and Sam hoped he really was

  because he was getting a bad vibe.

  “They say you fought the Alpha,”

  Quentin said, inching forward. He spaced the lights some more, so he could

  illuminate much of the hallway as they moved. “The story is that you were

  getting demolished by the D’Arak.”

  “Whatever they say is

  true,” Sam said. He let the flat of his palm touch the wall. The walls here

  were rough but not as bad as the chamber they landed in. There had been a

  conscious attempt to smoothen the wall here.

  “I feel like we are

  walking into someone’s home.”

  “The monsters down here

  hunt in herds,” Quentin said. “My father told me.” He turned and smiled at Sam

  before focusing on inching forward with care. Sam realized he was supposed to

  recognize who Quentin’s father was, but he didn’t.

  The hallway stretched

  into an intersection. They stopped where it split, each quiet for a moment and

  then Quentin moved left and Sam followed. He had his light, but it was nothing

  like Quentin’s. He decided to follow the man for now. Sam tried to catch more

  details about the hallway, but they arrived at the entrance to the next chamber

  faster. This one was the same as the other, except it was larger. There was a

  huge pillar in the middle where the remains of a long-tailed monster hung from

  a spear pierced through it. The tail looked barbed at the end. Sam crouched

  close to look at it.

  “These are not only

  Forgers,” Quentin said, drawing Sam’s attention to the other bones in the

  chamber. Quentin pointed to a weird-looking skeleton with runes carved into its

  bones. Like the beast hanging from the spear, it was intact. There wasn’t even

  a stink to it. Quentin checked the other bones while Sam stared at the strange

  skull. He had his suspicions, and if there were werewolves on the island, why

  couldn’t there be other races too? He kept the question to himself, moving

  around, searching for anything that would give them a clue.

  “Do you think these

  people lived here before?” Sam asked. “There are a lot of them here.”

  Quentin gestured for him

  to come. Sam walked over to the doorway where more bones littered the adjoining

  hallway. There were signs of the battle’s flow. There were more in front.

  “I think these people

  were just like us,” Quentin said. “I don’t know if they came here to advance or

  they came here to eradicate the monsters, but they attacked.”

  “That explains why these

  chambers are empty,” Sam said, nodding. He prodded the bones with his spear

  before joining Quentin. “And that also means we might be getting close to parts

  that are not?”

  Quentin nodded. “You

  should be ready.” He nodded to the monster’s skeleton hanging from the pillar.

  “I don’t think the spear is going to be enough for what awaits us.”