“Damn it… I’m never sleeping like this again.”

  Tom’s voice echoed softly through the cave, rough and hoarse, as he rolled onto his side and immediately regretted it. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. His shoulders burned, his back felt like it had been beaten with a hammer, and his fingers were so stiff they barely obeyed him when he tried to clench them.

  Cold stone pressed against his spine. Freezing air clung to his skin like a curse.

  He let out a miserable groan.

  “Your complaints are getting repetitive,” Bertho muttered from somewhere in the darkness. “And judging by how this mission is going, I’d guess this won’t be the last time you wake up feeling like a corpse.”

  Tom scowled, even though Bertho couldn’t see it. “That’s exactly the problem.”

  It was pitch black inside the cave. No moonlight reached this far in, and without a fire, the darkness felt thick enough to choke on. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and stale sweat. No one had slept well—if what they’d done could even be called sleeping.

  Arin sat up slowly, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed, and his body protested every small movement. Waking up this early should have been illegal.

  “Someone start a fire,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice. “If we don’t warm up, half of us are going to fall asleep again—and I don’t think we’ll wake up the second time.”

  There was some shuffling, followed by the scrape of flint against steel. A few seconds later, sparks bloomed into flame, and weak orange light spilled across the cave walls.

  The fire illuminated a sorry sight.

  Dozens of exhausted figures sat or lay scattered around the cavern floor. Faces were pale. Eyes were sunken. Limbs trembled from fatigue. The heavy packs beside them looked almost mocking in the firelight.

  And then there was the food.

  The moment Arin’s eyes landed on the gray, shapeless mass resting in his rations pouch, his expression darkened.

  “I pray,” he said quietly, venom dripping from every word, “that the scientist who invented this abomination never reveals his name. For his own safety.”

  A few dry laughs echoed around the cave.

  Tom grimaced as he opened his own pack. “I still don’t know how to describe the taste. It’s like someone mixed raw frogs, rotten eggs, and Surstr?mming… then gave it the texture of wet cement.”

  “Don’t forget the aftertaste,” Bertho added. “It lingers. Like regret.”

  The sludge was, unfortunately, the most nutrient-dense food available. Designed to sustain enhanced bodies under extreme conditions. Efficient. Compact. And utterly horrifying.

  No sane human would eat it willingly.

  Yet here they were.

  “Let’s go before we all spiral into depression,” Arin said, forcing himself to stand. “Bertho—how long does this tunnel last, and where does it lead?”

  Bertho unfolded the worn map and studied it by firelight. “About thirty kilometers. It curves to the right and should bring us closer to our destination without exposing us. It’s our safest route.”

  “Good,” Arin said. “Then we move.”

  They extinguished the fire and pressed deeper into the cave.

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  The tunnel narrowed gradually, its walls rough and uneven, clearly carved by hand. Tool marks were still visible in places, shallow grooves etched into the stone by people who had likely died long before any of them were born. The air grew colder the farther they walked, and the silence pressed in on them like a weight.

  Five kilometers in, the tunnel began to slope upward.

  Hours passed in a dull blur of footsteps and strained breathing.

  And then—

  Light.

  A wooden hatch creaked open, spilling pale sunlight into the darkness.

  Beyond it lay a small forest, quiet and untouched. Morning mist clung to the ground, and golden rays filtered through the canopy above, painting the scene in soft greens and golds. Birds should have been singing.

  But they weren’t.

  Arin was the first out. He moved quickly, crouching low as the group spread out instinctively, weapons drawn, eyes scanning for movement.

  “Let me check,” Arin said.

  He placed one hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree and closed his eyes.

  Deep within him, something stirred.

  His physique—his curse and his gift—answered his call.

  An unseen force flowed outward from him, rippling through the forest like a silent wave. Leaves rustled. Roots trembled. The land itself seemed to awaken as Arin’s awareness expanded, brushing against every tree, every stone, every shadow within reach.

  Nothing.

  No goblins.

  No animals.

  No life.

  The forest remained eerily silent.

  Arin’s face went pale.

  The moment he released the tree, his knees buckled.

  Bertho caught him just in time.

  “Arin!” he hissed. “Are you alright?”

  Arin took a shaky breath. “I’m… fine. Just need to take it slow for a few days.”

  That was only half the truth.

  As his awareness spread, the forest had responded—and so had his own soul. Tiny fractures he hadn’t even realized were there flared open like fresh wounds. Resurrection restored the body, but the soul…

  The soul took longer to heal.

  “I confirmed something important,” Arin continued, forcing a smile. “Your soul doesn’t fully recover when you’re resurrected. Anyone who dies repeatedly will suffer for it. We need to report this back. The family needs to know. And we can sell this to the governments, " said Arin.

  That knowledge alone could save lives.

  It was worth the pain.

  “I scanned about a kilometer around us,” he added. “No living beings. We’re clear.”

  Bertho exhaled in relief. “Good. Do you still have Grandpa’s compass?”

  Arin reached into his coat and pulled it out reverently.

  The device was simple in appearance—a metal casing, a glass face—but what lay inside was revolutionary. Crafted from a rare metal traded through the Shop, its core was attuned to a massive lodestone Karl guarded personally. No matter where they were, the needle would always point toward it.

  Without it, they’d be lost.

  “Good,” Arin said, pushing himself upright. “Let’s move.”

  They disappeared into the forest, the hatch closing silently behind them.

  Sunlight danced through the canopy above, and soon, it was as if they’d never been there at all.