Danikeli reached out a small, sun-browned hand toward the massive star-iron handle. He looked back at White Wolf, his eyes wide and helpful. "I'll be very, very quiet. Like a mouse!"

  The moment his fingers brushed the cold, violet-streaked metal, the "Great Sage" magic didn't just respond—it sang. The air didn't just heat up; it folded in on itself. There was no sound of a lock breaking or a hinge snapping. Instead, the center of the door simply turned a translucent, cherry-red, then a blinding white, and finally lost its solid form entirely.

  The star-iron, one of the densest materials in the First Multiverse, liquefied instantly. It sloughed off the doorframe in a shimmering, molten curtain, splashing onto the stone floor with a heavy hiss.

  "Oops," Danikeli whispered, pulling his hand back as the liquid metal pooled around his boots, cooling into a smooth, mirror-like surface. "The handle was a little bit soft today."

  The sudden removal of the door revealed a wide, spiraling stone staircase leading down into the darkness of Level 9. The heavy pressure of the "Void-Lock" had vanished, replaced by the frantic sound of boots hammering against stone.

  Far down the spiral, bathed in the dying glow of his own violet mana, Katahdin was visible for a fleeting second. He wasn't walking; he was sprinting, his majestic cloak fluttering behind him like a tattered rag. His two Iron-Breaker companions were leaping down five steps at a time, their heavy armor clanking in a desperate, uncoordinated rhythm.

  "Go! Go!" Katahdin’s voice echoed up the shaft, stripped of all its ethereal mystery. It was high-pitched and jagged with panic. "He just phased through star-iron! He’s not a Prophet, he’s an Eraser!"

  As he rounded the bend of the stairs, his voice drifted back up, fading but clear. "Agamenticus was right! My brother was always the smart one! 'Stay in the Second Multiverse,' he said! 'The physics make sense there,' he said! I should have stayed in the library!"

  The footsteps receded into the deep, leaving the Wolffire Group standing at the edge of the molten doorway.

  White Wolf stared at the puddle of liquid star-iron, then at the empty staircase, and finally at Danikeli. The boy was currently looking at his reflection in the cooling metal, fixing his hair.

  "Agamenticus?" Green Wolf whispered, leaning on his staff for support. "Wait... isn't that the Arch-Mage of the Silver Spire? The one who predicted the Great Collapse?"

  "If an Arch-Mage’s brother is running from a seven-year-old," Red Wolf said, slowly sheathing his axe, "I think we officially graduated from 'adventurers' to 'witnesses to the end of the world.'"

  White Wolf just sighed, a long, weary sound that echoed off the melted doorframe. "Don't think about it, Green. Don't even process it. Just keep walking. If the Volcano wants to go to Level 9, we go to Level 9."

  —————————————————————————————————————————————————

  The labyrinth of Level 9 tightened around them, the scale of the architecture shifting from mere subterranean tunnels to a cavernous expanse that defied human proportions. In the First Multiverse, the 15x scale of the Earth meant that a simple service corridor was the size of a cathedral, and the distance between milestones felt like crossing a small country.

  As they navigated a junction where the basalt walls loomed like obsidian skyscrapers, their flares illuminated a massive stone signpost. It was bolted to the rock with brass rivets the size of dinner plates, the text carved in letters three feet high.

  [SIDE CORRIDOR: THIS WAY TO THE TAMPA TUNNELS]

  Beneath the text, a colossal iron arrow pointed toward a side passage, but the way was utterly blocked. A mountain of jagged limestone had collapsed into the throat of the corridor, with boulders the size of houses wedged so tightly they formed a seamless wall of rubble.

  "The Tampa Tunnels?" White Wolf pulled his visor up, his eyes wide as he stared at the blockage. "We’re in the Nev?ehir strata. Even with the 15x scale of this world, the distance to the Florida sector should be a month-long journey by high-speed rail. How is there a direct corridor in a Level 9 dungeon?"

  "It’s the First Multiverse’s geography, Boss," Red Wolf muttered, leaning his heavy axe against a pebble that was actually a waist-high rock. "Everything is fifteen times bigger. If this tunnel was built to the 15x scale of the world, it’s not just a passage; it’s a subterranean continental highway. If that cave-in wasn't there, we’d be walking through a tunnel wide enough for a fleet of airships."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Green Wolf stepped up to the rock pile, his fingers glowing as he tried to sense the mana beyond the obstruction. "The spatial distortion is massive. This isn't just a long walk; it’s a shortcut through the crust. But look at the density of this limestone—it would take a month of blasting to clear a path wide enough for a horse, let alone us."

  "It’s a trap," White Wolf countered, his gaze darting between the sign and the dark abyss ahead. "A corridor that long and that big? You'd be walking for weeks in a dead zone. Nobody is willing to find out if the Sunshine State is on the other side of that mess."

  "But think of the loot!" Green Wolf countered. "If we could bypass the mid-levels and pop out in a Tampa trade hub..."

  "And if we run out of air halfway through a thousand-mile tunnel?" Red Wolf grunted. "I'm staying on the main road. I’ve heard the storms in the Florida sector can strip the enchantments right off your armor."

  While the three veterans stood in a heated debate over the logistical nightmare of a 15x scale trans-continental tunnel, Danikeli was already fifty yards down the main path. He didn't even glance at the signpost. To him, the colossal blockage was just a pile of boring gray rocks. He was far more interested in a glowing, orange crack in the floor that was pulsing with a rhythmic, inviting heat.

  "Why are you shouting at the mountain?" Danikeli called out, his voice echoing with a cheerful, tiny ring in the massive hall. "The mountain doesn't have any ears, White Wolf! And the air down here is starting to smell like toasted marshmallows. I think the ground is cooking something!"

  "Danikeli, wait!" White Wolf shouted, abandoning the Florida debate. "That path leads to a whole different sector! We could be in a different timezone by tomorrow!"

  "I don't want to go to a different time," Danikeli said, dismissing a three-thousand-mile journey with the casualness of a child refusing a bath. "I like this time. And I want to see the orange light! It looks like a giant night-light for the doggies."

  He skipped away, his small boots leaving faint, steaming prints on the cold basalt floor. The Wolffire Group stood for one last second, staring at the blocked "Tampa" corridor.

  "If we ever survive this," Green Wolf whispered, "I’m coming back with a siege-grade drill. I have to know if that tunnel actually works."

  "Forget it, Green," White Wolf said, already turning to follow the boy. "I’m staying with the Volcano. I’d rather face the bottom of Derinkuyu than a thousand miles of dark tunnel."

  The smell of toasted sugar grew thicker as they navigated a cavern that felt less like a tunnel and more like the ribcage of a mountain. The 15x scale of the First Multiverse turned the jagged limestone formations into overhead arches the size of suspension bridges.

  In the center of the path, a fissure in the basalt glowed with a brilliant, pulsing tangerine light. Clustered around the heat were the Level 30 Magma-Crabs. These weren't the tiny crustaceans of the surface; they were the size of industrial ovens, their shells composed of cooling obsidian that cracked to reveal molten interiors. They hissed, their pincers glowing white-hot as they guarded their thermal nest.

  "Oh! Little stoves!" Danikeli cheered, skipping toward the nearest monster. He reached into the oversized pocket of his tunic and pulled out a slightly squashed loaf of honey-bread. "I was worried my snack was going to be cold, but these nice crabs have their heaters on!"

  "Danikeli, wait! Those are Level 30s!" White Wolf shouted, reaching for his blade. "Their shells are reinforced with—"

  He was cut off by Green Wolf, who had suddenly dropped to his knees. The mage wasn't looking at the crabs. He had slammed his jade staff into the floor, his eyes rolled back as he tapped into the deep-earth mana currents.

  "Boss... wait," Green Wolf whispered, his voice trembling with a different kind of fear. "Do you feel that? The resonance?"

  "Resonance? All I feel is my armor melting," Red Wolf grunted, eyeing a Magma-Crab that was currently trying to figure out why a seven-year-old was resting a loaf of bread on its dorsal carapace.

  "No, it's a signature," Green Wolf insisted, his face pale. "It’s a Grade-S Mana Pulse. I recognize the frequency. It’s the Guild Master. It’s the 'Iron-Bellows' technique he uses when he’s training recruits."

  White Wolf froze. "The Guild Master? He’s in the city. We’re miles into the dungeon, heading deeper into the crust. We should be halfway to the mantle by now."

  "That’s the thing," Green Wolf said, looking up at the ceiling that disappeared into the gloom miles above. "The geometry of Derinkuyu isn't linear. We haven't been going straight down. We’ve been spiraling back. Based on the mana fluctuations bleeding through the crust... we aren't under the dungeon entrance anymore. We’re directly underneath the Adventurer’s Guild hall in Nev?ehir."

  Red Wolf looked at the ceiling, then back at the map. "You’re saying we walked through eight levels of hell just to end up beneath the basement of the place we started?"

  "Except we're miles deeper," Green Wolf swallowed hard. "There are leagues of solid bedrock between us and the Guild Master's boots, but we're right under him. This labyrinth is folding the 15x scale of the world right over itself."

  "Mister Crab is a very good baker!" Danikeli shouted, oblivious to the geographical revelation. He was currently patting the top of a Level 30 Magma-Crab, which had stopped hissing and was now sitting perfectly still, its molten core dimming to a gentle "medium-rare" simmer as if terrified that getting too hot would burn the boy's toast.

  Danikeli took a bite of the steaming bread, the honey-glaze dripping onto his chin. "It’s a little crunchy, but it’s much better than the cold stuff."

  White Wolf looked at the boy, then at the ceiling, then at the Level 30 monster acting as a kitchen appliance. "So the Guild Master is right above us, and he has no idea that a 'Volcano' is eating toast in his sub-basement."

  "If the kid sneezes too hard," Green Wolf muttered, "the Guild Master is going to find himself at the bottom of a very large, very hot hole."