Chapter 39: The fall Back

  Lars turned the final page and let it fall shut, the metal clasp dimming as the corrupted mana within the log quieted. The warning etched into the parchment crawled across his thoughts like a cold fingertip. The Broodmother does not sleep. She watches the intruders now. Each step taken in her den is recorded. Each death is marked.

  He placed the tome across his knee and stared into the violet glow pulsing from the walls. The heartbeat of the dungeon thrummed somewhere beneath the stone. Its rhythm was slow and heavy, as if the creature at its center breathed in time with the intruders.

  Darvish approached, wiping ichor from his gauntlet. “You read the whole thing.”

  Lars nodded. “Enough.”

  “Anything useful?”

  “Everything.” Lars closed the log and stood, hooking it onto his belt. “We are cutting it close. The brood cycle is accelerating. If she reaches full ascension, the dungeon core will mutate, the Brood will evolve. We need to regroup at the encampment and mobilize everyone who can fight.”

  Darvish glanced toward the descending tunnel. “Just before the last stretch too.”

  Lars surveyed the chamber again, ensuring the squad had at least rested long enough to regain focus. The men were pale but steady. No signs of corruption poisoning. No visible mana distortion yet. They were reaching the limits of safe exposure, though the Tier Threes showed strain behind their eyes.

  “Form up,” Lars said.

  Nox sheathed his blade and stepped forward. “Finally. Wasting time sitting in a hole is beneath us.”

  Darvish did not dignify that with comment. Serra raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kael flicked molten residue from the tip of his spear and fell into line. The remaining militia elites finished packing supplies, including the cloth wrapped bundle containing their fallen comrade’s memorabilia..

  Lars moved to the front again. “We pull back to the encampment. No detours. Minimal noise. Weapons drawn. The log states she is aware of us.”

  Nox smirked. “Good. Let her wait. All the better when she dies.”

  Lars did not bother correcting him. He simply turned and led the team back through the upward path.

  The descent had been filled with distant chittering and constant drips of corrupted fluid. The ascent was different. Quiet. Too quiet. The air had changed. It held a tension that made the hair on the back of Lars’s neck rise.

  Darvish noticed it too. “The mana pressure has increased.”

  Serra muttered under her breath. “I feel it pressing on my armor.”

  The tunnel walls appeared darker. The violet veins that previously flickered in steady rhythm now pulsed erratically. Every few steps there was a spike, a flash of harsh corrupted light that made the shadows jerk.

  One of the Tier Three elites swallowed. “Feels like walking up into a storm.”

  Lars did not look back. “Keep moving. Quickly.”

  They pressed forward. The only sounds were boots on stone and the faint whispering crackle of corrupted mana threading through the walls and the deep breaths as they began a light jog back to the encampment.

  No conversation.

  No breath wasted.

  Even Nox fell into silence.

  The path wound upward in a tight curve, the air thickening with every meter. They passed old signs of their earlier battles. Crushed chitin. Spilled ichor. The remains of shattered obsidian bolts. Even those felt different now. Almost warm.

  Darvish slowed near a wall. “These veins were not pulsing this fast before.”

  “They are reacting to something,” Lars said.

  Nox’s jaw tightened. “Or preparing something.”

  They reached the chamber where they had first fought the cannibal pack. The corpses remained, but the bodies had shifted positions. Some dragged. Some half eaten. Others simply gone.

  Torches they had left earlier were extinguished, snuffed out by something passing through.

  A faint clicking noise drifted from deeper shadows.

  Serra whispered to Kael, “We should not linger.”

  “Fuck,” Lars said.

  They Ran.

  The clicking faded behind them. But it did not entirely disappear.

  The pulse of the dungeon grew stronger as they neared the first encampment. The air felt warmer again. Not from torches. From something alive. Something radiating corrupted heat.

  Another mana spike rippled through the tunnel. Hard enough that the Tier Threes stumbled, bracing themselves against the walls.

  Darvish exhaled sharply. “That was a strong one.”

  “They are coming from above,” Serra said. Her voice was low, her shield raised already. “Many of them.”

  Kael’s molten spear glowed faintly. “I hear more than before.”

  The next turn in the tunnel revealed a faint orange glow ahead. The light of torches. The encampment’s torches.

  Lars slowed. Raised a hand.

  “Do you feel that?” Darvish whispered.

  Lars nodded.

  The mana distortion was unmistakable. Chaotic. Violent. Like dozens of signatures flaring at once.

  Another spike hit them like a wave. It was powerful enough that even Lars felt his balance shift. Nox steadied himself with a hand against the wall and snarled.

  “They are attacking the camp,” Serra said.

  Lars broke into a run.

  The squad followed without hesitation.

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  As they rounded the final turn leading to the encampment, they heard the unmistakable sound of battle. Metal scraping chitin. Screams of pain. The screeching chorus of spiders.

  Lars felt a cold rush shoot through his chest.

  They pushed themselves, with their Tier it would only be minutes before they arrived back the camp.

  The moment the chamber came into view, the entire elite team froze for a half breath.

  The encampment was under siege.

  Torvak and Garric, the two guards left to defend the forward post, were locked in a brutal stand near the central barricade. Their armor was torn. Garric’s spear was snapped in half. Torvak had blood smeared along his cheek and ichor soaking his greaves.

  But the attackers were worse.

  At least forty crawlers swarmed through the chamber. Tier Two and Tier Three bodies piled like broken toys around the barricades. More crawlers poured through the tunnel walls, ripping through crystal shelves or clawing through cracks. Their screeches overlapped into a storm of sound.

  But it was what led them that made the breath leave the elite squad.

  Near the center of the encampment stood a Tier Five crawler. Nearly the size of a Cargo Wagon. Its body was encased in black armor plates that shimmered with crimson streaks. Eight eyes glowed with cold intelligence. Its legs dug into the stone, carving deep gouges. Mandibles dripped viscous ichor.

  System Notification

  [ BROOD SENTINEL DETECTED ]

  Rank: Tier 5

  Role: Broodmother Enforcer

  Traits: Enhanced limb density, obsidian mandible crescents, venom temperature unstable. Corrupts surrounding Area

  Threat Rating: High

  Recommendation: Avoid direct confrontation unless fully prepared.

  If Lance saw the information his father got from inspecting the creature he would be stunned. Tier 5s sure do get more love from the system.

  Three Tier Four Sentinels flanked the Enforce, their bodies twice the size of the earlier ones. Variants possibly? Their limbs pulsed with red-black mana. They moved with deliberate purpose, rallying the lower tiers around them.

  The ground itself shook beneath their weight.

  Torvak barely dodged as the Tier Five slammed one leg down, cracking stone. Garric screamed something hoarse and wordless, swinging the broken half of his spear like a cudgel. Militia Men desperately fighting back in their trained formations. Many getting ripped to shreds before they can even fight back, their bodies and skin getting torn apart.

  The sight ignited something hot behind Lars’s ribs.

  Lars stepped forward.

  His mana surged. Lightning swelled around him in a chaotic, whipping mess. No Words needed to be said.

  The corridor behind them exploded with movement.

  Darvish charged first, shield raised, earth mana spiraling around him in thick ripples. Serra sprinted beside him, flame wreathing her armor as her shield became a burning bulwark. Kael swept past the militia elites, molten spear dragging bright orange streaks across the ground.

  Even Nox dropped all pretense of elegance and bolted after them, blade drawn, eyes locked on the Tier Five monster like a predator spotting worthy prey.

  Lars hit the battlefield like a falling star. Activating one of his Tier 5 Class skills:

  StromStride

  Type: Mobility

  Description: Using the speed of lightning blitz your enemy with considerable boost in strength (Max Range, 100m)

  He didn't just close the distance between him and the Tier 5, he appeared directly in front of it. His BattleAxe overheard. The crawler screeched, its mandibles opening wide. It lunged.

  He brought down his Lightning infused Strike with enough force to send shockwaves through the ground. His Axe clanged against the armor, sparks erupting. He sliced again, finding a gap between the plates, carving a deep gash that spilled corrupted ichor.

  The beast shrieked and reared up.

  Darvish smashed into the line of Tier Three crawlers charging toward Serra, his earth reinforced shield colliding with such force that the creatures bounced off like thrown dolls. He cleaved two open in rapid swings, snarling as he moved.

  Serra burst forward, flames erupting around her. She slammed her shield into a Sentinel’s side. The impact cracked chitin. The Sentinel retaliated with a spiraling leg strike that Serra barely deflected, flame scattering across the chamber.

  Kael hurled a molten spear-throw straight into another Sentinel, the heat melting through the armor. The monster screeched and collapsed, legs thrashing.

  Nox darted into the chaos with eerie grace, cutting through a path of lower tier spiders. His curved blade sliced joints, severed limbs, and pierced skulls. He pushed toward the Tier Five, eyes narrowed in cold hunger.

  For a moment the encampment became a spinning war of flame, steel, and corrupted chitin.

  Torvak stumbled backward, gasping as Garric clutched a bleeding wound in his side. When they saw the elite squad arrive, relief flickered across their strained faces.

  Garric managed a weak grin. “About time.”

  Torvak sank to a knee. “We held as long as we could.”

  Lars lunged backwards, regrouping.

  He did not look away from the Tier Five rising in front of him. “You did well. Fall back behind the line. Thank you for defending my people.”

  The Tier Five slammed both forelegs down with earth shaking force. The impact sent cracks shooting across the chamber, knocking several lower tier crawlers onto their backs. From the cracks now crawlers poured out.

  It began charging up to prepare a second strike.

  Lars centered his stance.

  Darvish roared.

  Serra ignited.

  Kael stabbed the butt of his spear into the floor, molten power channeling into his limbs.

  Nox gripped his blade with both hands, smiling like a man about to enjoy himself. Flame forming beneath his feet.

  Lars drew in a breath, mana coiling in a sharp line through his limbs.

  Darvish still holding off the Tier 4, lifted his shield, yelling out. “Now.”

  Serra’s flame brightened. Kael braced his spear. Nox leaned forward like a shadow preparing to leap. Lars Axe lightning up like an Arc reactor ready to blow.

  Then the air shook.

  A deep metallic howl cut across the chamber, followed by a heavy rush of displaced air.

  Something massive spun through the dark like a meteor given purpose.

  A hardened steel warhammer slammed into the Tier Five’s skull with a thunderclap.

  The impact crushed chitin, shattered the left cluster of its eyes, and drove the monster’s entire head sideways into the stone wall. The force of it sent dust and shards exploding outward. The creature screeched, staggering as its ruined face slammed fully into the rock. The Tier 4s stopped their fighting and ran to protect their fallen leader. The swarm still pressed hard though.

  Lars froze for half a heartbeat, Axe still raised.

  Darvish blinked. “What in all storms was that.”

  Serra shielded her face from falling fragments. Kael’s molten spear wavered mid swing.

  Even Nox raised his good eyebrow.

  Boots thundered from the far tunnel. Towards the entrance.

  Not human boots.

  Heavier. Shorter. Iron shod.

  Then the light hit them. Rows of lantern shields reflecting off polished steel armor. A formation of warriors marched into the chamber, beards braided with metal rings, helms engraved with mountain runes, axes strapped across their backs. Shields shaped like slabs of carved ore.

  A full goddamn dwarven battalion.

  At their head strode a barrel chested dwarf with a thick red beard bound in three knots. His single pauldron bore the crest of the Northern Mountain Clan, a hammer striking an anvil. His voice boomed across the chamber as he held out a hand.

  “Pick up yerselves, lads. That beastie is not fallen yet.”

  Lars breathed out slowly. Recognition sparked across his face.

  “Garth.”

  The dwarf grinned wide beneath his beard. “Aye, lad. Garth Stonebreaker, Clan Head of the Northern Peaks, at yer blasted service.” He cracked his neck. “Last time we met ye were knee deep in Guardian business. Now you are in a Corrupted Dungeon! Damn humans always stirring a mess I tell ye.”

  Nox didn't ignore the part about ‘Guardian Business’, but now wasnt the time. He filed that away for later.

  Darvish muttered, “Reinforcements. Actual reinforcements.”

  The Tier Five heaved itself up again, staggering from the blow. Garth extended a hand and his hammer ripped free from the monster’s skull, flying back to him with a metallic shriek.

  He caught it with one hand.

  “Right then, ye great corrupted sack of filth,” Garth growled as the dwarven battalion behind him lowered shields and drew weapons. “Time to finish what yer kind started.”

  No need to continue falling back.

  Lars took command of the area, commanding like a Tier 5 should.

  “Men! Fall back behind the dwarfs! The rest.. On me.” His Axe began to shine again. This time, that damn sentinel wont be be getting back up.