Things were tense, but progress was being made. Kene had managed to dislodge a few more rocks from the blockage.

  What didn’t bode well was the sound of beasts inching closer by the second. Siran would be exhausted soon, and they would have to swap roles. Kene wasn’t sure how much longer the man could hold out, or how much longer he himself could.

  A pained shout echoed through the tunnel.

  Kene stopped immediately and sprinted toward the sound.

  Their plan was to fight as close to the entrance as possible, then slowly retreat as they switched roles. That way, the beasts wouldn’t instantly pin them between the blocked exit and the tunnel mouth, giving them at least some breathing room. Kene could only hope Siran was still alive.

  A few frantic strides later, he saw him.

  Siran was caked in blood from head to toe, favoring one leg as he held his ground. Corpses littered the tunnel around him, and Kene could already sense more beasts rushing toward the entrance, drawn by the scent of blood and the promise of escape.

  “Swap!” Kene shouted.

  Siran didn’t hesitate. He limped past Kene toward the exit and immediately began working at the rocks.

  Kene stepped straight into the violence.

  He drew his blade and cut into the oncoming beasts with ruthless efficiency. Narrowing his focus, he drew on what little close-quarters experience he had gained in his previous life at the Mage Tower, the constant scrambles where his magic had failed him, and the recent spars with his guard unit. He brought it all to bear.

  He used only the movements he needed. Precise thrusts to weak points. Slashes that caught multiple direboars across vital areas. A quick pommel strike whenever one pressed too close, crushing bone and staggering momentum.

  All the while, he relied only on his base Enforcer strength. He couldn’t afford to strain his channels yet. He would need them later, when the battle inevitably grew worse, and the beasts became more desperate.

  Time lost all meaning.

  The only thing that mattered was eliminating whatever stood in front of him in the most efficient way possible, without wasting strength.

  Eventually, he slipped into something like a flow state. His body and mind began to move more in sync. Ever since the ritual and soul transfer, there had been lingering issues, subtle misalignments between body, mind, and soul that forced him to work harder for control.

  Now, under pressure, those gaps were slowly being forced shut.

  Necessity was a brutal teacher.

  He didn’t notice it until it happened, which spoke volumes about his focus. A hand touched his shoulder.

  A heartbeat later, Siran’s spear flashed past him, impaling a direboar.

  Oh. Time to switch.

  Kene snapped back to himself and took in his surroundings. He had been pushed back nearly six meters from where he’d started.

  He turned and sprinted toward the exit.

  Siran had made progress. Most of the smaller rocks were gone, leaving only the medium-sized ones and a few large boulders. Kene estimated they needed two more rounds at most.

  Assuming we survive two more.

  Pumping mana through his channels, he felt his strength swell. He brought it to bear against one of the larger boulders. The first strike cracked its surface, but it barely shifted. The second moved it more. It wasn’t until the fifth heavy blow that it finally rolled free.

  Something felt wrong.

  The sound of the falling boulder took too long to reach him, and when it did, it was faint and muffled.

  How far above the ground are we?

  A knot formed in his stomach.

  Hopefully it’s survivable. We don’t need more problems right now.

  With no better option, he continued hammering away.

  As more rocks came loose, the situation only grew grimmer. Kene could now see that the drop below was at least twenty meters, with no sign of water beneath.

  Gritting his teeth, he stopped. That was enough. They would have to switch again.

  He turned and ran back toward the sounds of battle.

  ***

  The two men continued like this, pushing themselves closer and closer to the brink. At some point, the self-cleaning enchantment on Kene’s blade gave out, likely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of blood and viscera caked along its length.

  The mana in the tunnel had thinned as well. With less ambient energy to draw from, the remaining enchantments would soon begin to fail, one after another.

  Siran was completely spent. He could no longer fight.

  The only sliver of good news was that Kene had managed to clear the exit enough for them to escape. Sunlight now poured through the opening in uneven beams.

  The problem was what waited beyond it.

  A sheer drop of nearly twenty meters.

  Even with mana reinforcing his body, a fall like that would shatter Kene’s bones if he failed to land perfectly. As for Siran, his chances were far worse. He was still just a normal human, injured and exhausted.

  Kene slashed at a head protruding from the writhing wall of bodies, but the strike met no resistance. He glanced down at his weapon and froze.

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  The blade was gone.

  Only the hilt, guard, and a jagged sliver of metal remained.

  “Huh…” The thought drifted lazily through his mind. “It must have broken at some point.”

  The last exchange had been especially harrowing. More beasts had poured into the tunnel than ever before, forcing both men onto the front line. When that still wasn’t enough, Kene had been forced to keep his body constantly flooded with mana, ignoring the strain entirely.

  The carnage had piled up so thick that a hill of corpses nearly as tall as a man now clogged the tunnel mouth, blocking most of the sunlight from the entrance.

  The good news that came out of that is that new beasts were struggling to push past it. But every now and then some made it through.

  They were only a few meters from the exit now.

  As Kene walked down the tunnel and turned toward Siran, his chest tightened. The man looked like he was on the verge of death. Kene felt a stab of guilt. This had been meant to be a simple extermination mission, yet his involvement had caused it to spiral completely out of control.

  He did not know exactly how or why, but Kene was certain his presence had something to do with it.

  “I think we should launch the flare,” Kene said, his voice hoarse.

  “No doubt there’s a raid party looking for us already,” he continued, “but it’s better to be safe.”

  Siran nodded and reached into his pouch, pulling out a fist-sized black sphere. He squeezed it, and it began to rapidly expand on its own. Stepping closer to the exit, he threw it high into the open air. It soared upward before bursting into a streak of green smoke that lingered unnaturally long, the wind doing little to disperse it.

  “Now… about how we actually escape,” Kene said.

  Siran turned and met his gaze.

  “Ester, I think the only option we have is to climb down,” he said grimly. “But the price of a mistake would be dire.”

  Climbing down was possible, but Kene’s thoughts immediately went to the beasts. If they broke through while one of them was descending, even a momentary distraction could mean a fatal fall.

  He voiced his concern, and Siran listened in silence.

  “Another option,” Siran said slowly, “is to wait for a rescue party to find us.”

  Even he didn’t sound convinced.

  Kene didn’t blame the pessimism. They were already several hours overdue, and there had been no sign of the guard unit. He suspected they were dealing with their own beast problems, likely delayed by the same chaos that had trapped them here.

  A lizard-like beast no larger than a cat suddenly leapt over the wall of corpses and lunged at them. Kene reacted instantly, driving the broken remnants of his blade through its chest. It died without a sound.

  “We need to decide on a plan,” Kene said firmly. “Now.”

  There was always the option of leaving through the front instead of the exit, but who knew what larger predators were feeding on the direboar carcasses outside. In their current state, neither of them could afford that kind of confrontation.

  Kene’s channels throbbed relentlessly, screaming in protest with every breath. The pain had become a constant presence, impossible to ignore.

  They were truly in a terrible position.

  A deep rumble shook the tunnel, and both Siran and Kene tensed instantly. The oppressive, bestial presence Kene had felt earlier surged back in full force.

  “The serpent,” Kene said on instinct.

  “Shit… just our luck,” Siran muttered through gritted teeth.

  Judging by the density and weight of its mana, the creature was at least Tier Three. Far beyond what they could handle in their current state. The only sensible option was to avoid drawing its attention and get away as quickly as possible.

  They heard the sound of bones snapping, followed by wet, heavy swallowing.

  “It’s feeding on the direboar corpses,” Kene said. “Drawn by the blood. We still have some time.”

  At least, that was what he thought.

  The mound of bodies began to shrink at an alarming pace. The beast was gluttonous, swallowing several carcasses at once.

  “Start climbing down!” Kene shouted.

  Siran hesitated.

  Kene was about to bark at him when he noticed where the man’s gaze had gone, down to the broken blade clutched in Kene’s hand. Without another word, Kene reached out and took Siran’s spear from his grip.

  “I’ll be fine,” Kene said quickly. “I’ll hold it off long enough so it doesn’t go for us both.”

  “Young Master, it’s my duty to protect—” Siran started.

  “I’m stronger than you,” Kene cut in. “And you can barely fight in the condition you’re in.”

  The pile of corpses continued to collapse inward. Dark green scales shifted beneath the remains, and a loud hiss rattled the air.

  Shit. It sees us.

  If it broke through now and lunged, its long body would still be able to strike even while they were descending.

  Siran was frozen, caught in indecision, and they were out of time.

  Kene shoved him hard.

  With a single, guilty glance back, Siran finally ran for the exit. For a fleeting moment, it looked as though he had chosen to save himself. Kene didn’t blame him.

  Turning away, Kene squared his shoulders and faced the serpent alone.

  Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto him.

  The pressure it exuded crashed down like a physical weight, and Kene felt his knees begin to buckle.

  Kene was completely depleted, his channels screaming in protest. A Tier One Enforcer was simply not meant to fight for this long, nor maintain such sustained output.

  His thoughts drifted back to the apocalyptic world he had grown up in, a place that had broken him and reshaped him through constant battle. He realized he never would have survived long enough to become one of the last living beings without taking risks along the way.

  Kene honed his intent to a blade’s edge and made a decision. He would use the new set of channels. He had to. Siran’s life, and his own, depended on it.

  The lingering paranoia he had failed to suppress pushed him to check one last time.

  It looks almost identical to my original channels. Nothing seems different. Am I overthinking this?

  There was no time left to second-guess himself. He pushed mana through them.

  I really was overthinking it.

  The sensation was the same as cycling through his regular channels. Mana flooded his body, saturating muscle and bone, and when it reached his hand, there was no pain. These channels were untouched, pristine and new.

  Then a dark premonition crept over him.

  He immediately tried to stop the flow, but it continued without his guidance. In fact, it began to accelerate.

  “No!” he shouted.

  It was too late.

  The cave vanished.

  Kene found himself sitting upright in his bed, one hand still extended as if grasping at something unseen. Bandages wrapped around his body, and only now did the dull ache in his bones and muscles fully register.

  How did we make it out?

  He took a steadying breath and forced himself to focus on his surroundings. If his assumptions were correct, they must have escaped. It was the only explanation that made sense, even if it failed to explain the gap in his memory.

  What was the last thing I remember? Right, channeling mana into the new set of channels.

  The blackout had to be related. His instincts had been right. Something was deeply wrong with how those channels had been obtained. There were simply too many unknown factors.

  I completely lost control while cycling. That must have triggered it.

  But if I was unconscious, how did Siran escape, let alone carry me? Did reinforcements arrive? Did someone else intervene and extract us?

  The decision had been rash, but thinking back, he had seen no other option.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Kene turned his attention inward to inspect his channels. What he saw surprised him.

  His original channels were intact and fully healed, the strain erased by rest. The new set was still there. Their pathways were slightly thicker, as if cultivation had continued through them.

  This is unsettling.

  Was I still cycling subconsciously after I passed out?

  Kene resolved not to tamper with the new channels again until he understood what had happened.

  He glanced toward the window and saw that night had fallen. A knock followed soon after.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Mikkel entered first, followed by Knight Merva and Siran.

  “Young Master,” they said together.

  Mikkel stepped forward. “It is good to see you awake, Master Ester. We were all worried about your prolonged condition.”

  Prolonged?

  “How long was I unconscious?” Kene asked.

  Mikkel hesitated before answering. “Around fifty hours. Your injuries were extensive.”

  Over two days?

  Kene felt a chill settle in his chest. His injuries had been serious, but not enough to justify that. Whatever had happened went beyond physical trauma.

  “Young Master?” Mikkel asked carefully.

  Only then did Kene realize he had been silent for several seconds.

  “Just thinking about how hungry I am” Kene smiled,

  “We have food prepared Young Master” Mikkel said, and on queue several maids came out with trays of food.

  “Knight Merva, we’ll talk more about what happened after.” Kene said.

  She bowed in response, “As you wish” Merva said, then turned to leave.

  Mikkel stayed in the room, watching Kene as if he would disappear if he didn’t.

  Chapter 14 - Dark Power [2]