Chapter 7 - Blood and Stone

Tumbling down the chasm, Ash and four beastmen plummeted with him. They didn’t fall far before smashing into jagged stone, sliding further until they crashed into a vast, dimly lit chamber. The impact drove the air from Ash’s lungs. He groaned, forcing himself to move despite the ache in his ribs, his polearm clattering beside him. Around him, the beastmen stirred, each one battered and bleeding but still alive.

Ash’s hand went instinctively to his pocket. Healing orb... I need it now. His fingers grasped only fabric. Then the realization hit. The orbs had spilled out during the fall.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. Wounded and with nothing to patch himself up, he’d have to kill them all before they tore him apart.

The first to lunge was the orange beastman. It swung its claws in a vicious arc. Ash sidestepped—too close. If those claws break skin, the poison will finish me. Before he could counter, the blue beastman charged from the side.

A thunderous crack erupted overhead. A section of the ceiling collapsed, stone and dust raining down. The blue beastman vanished under the rubble, its screams cut short by the crushing weight. The sudden shift gave Ash and the orange beastman a brief pause—then the fight resumed.

The orange beastman’s claws came again, both hands slashing. Ash met the attack with his polearm, sparks scraping off its claws. He drove a kick into its abdomen, feeling the impact reverberate through his own injured leg. The beastman staggered to one knee, clutching itself, but its other hand closed around a loose stone.

It lunged again. Ash blocked high, missing the movement until the stone slammed into his shoulder. Pain flared white-hot, driving him back. Gritting his teeth, Ash hurled his polearm like a spear. The weapon sang through the air, aimed straight for the beastman’s chest—only for it to twist aside. The polearm buried itself deep into the wall.

Missed. But it bought me a heartbeat. He tore through his pockets and found a small vial—not everything fell out. He swallowed the contents in one gulp, let the empty vial drop, and charged.

The beastman met him, grabbing Ash’s arm. Its claws punched into flesh, hot blood spilling down his forearm. The poison burned like fire in his veins. The beastman’s yellow eyes glinted with victory.

Ash grinned back.

His knee rocketed upward, slamming into the beastman’s groin. The creature folded, gasping. Ash’s hands snapped to its skull, dragging its head down into his rising knee. Bone crunched. Blood spattered his face. He drove the beastman down, stomping its face again and again, each strike fueled by pain, rage, and survival.

The final stomp landed on its neck. A sickening crunch. Blood leaked from its ears, eyes, and shattered nose. The beastman gargled on its own blood before going still. Ash exhaled slowly, feeling the fragment of its soul fuse with his own—strength blooming faintly in his limbs.

He wrenched his polearm free from the wall. But then... nothing. No surge of power from the blue beastman. Ash turned back toward the rubble. Beneath the shattered stone, the blue beastman still lived—its legs crushed, its breaths ragged.

Ash crouched before it, eyes narrowing to a dangerous glint. “So you called the humans sacrifices. Where did you take them?”

The beastman’s lips curled despite the pain. “Fuck you. You can’t stop what’s coming. Ren will kill you, then sacrifice that child you’re with.”

Ash’s jaw tightened. You shouldn’t have said that. He rose, circling to the beastman’s side, flipping his polearm to present the rear spike. With a sharp thrust, he drove it into the beastman’s eye. The creature shrieked.

Ash leaned close. “Try again. Where are you taking them?”

The beastman’s teeth ground together. “Just kill me. I won’t talk.”

Ash’s hand shot out, his thumb plunging into the beastman’s ear. He ripped, tearing away the ear and surrounding flesh until the bone was exposed. Blood streamed down the beastman’s neck.

“Speak.”

“Fuck you!”

Ash’s voice dropped cold. “Then you don’t need your tongue.” One slash removed the upper half of the beastman’s snout, leaving the lower jaw dangling grotesquely. The beastman thrashed, blood spraying. Ash seized its tongue, gripping hard. “Last chance. Quick or slow.”

Only gurgling blood and a hateful look staring at Ash answered his question.

Ash yanked, tearing the tongue free. He slipped it into his pocket, then ended it with a clean thrust through the skull.

Leaning back against the wall, Ash let the pain and exhaustion settle over him. Arcea… I should’ve sent you home. This job’s too dangerous. But you’re strong. You’ll be fine.

Somewhere in the distance, faint echoes of water dripping and stone shifting reached his ears—unfamiliar sounds that hinted at movement deeper within the ruins.

He checked his pockets. The antidote vial was gone—used. The orbs were gone too. He sighed, scanning the dead orange beastman, and found a pouch on its belt. Inside: a small bottle of paralytic poison, three core orbs—a healing orb, an earth orb, and a fire orb.

The healing orb dissolved in his palm, warmth spreading through his wounds, but it couldn’t mend everything—he’d taken too many injuries for it to fully heal him. He pocketed the other two and the poison.

Polearm in hand, Ash moved to the chamber’s exit. His footsteps echoed faintly off the stone as he disappeared into the darkness, the distant dripping growing louder with each step, until the chamber was silent once more.

Ash traveled through a long, narrow tunnel, mana lights casting a pale glow along the damp stone walls. Pipes ran overhead and at his sides, hissing softly in the stale air. Feels like this place goes on forever… if she’s in here, I have to catch up. The passage finally opened into a vast chamber dominated by water—its surface rippling with the force of unseen currents. Crumbled walls framed the area, and the thunderous roar of rushing water echoed from somewhere deep within.
Across the way, Ash spotted Arcea. Relief surged. There you are… He tried to call out, but the noise drowned his voice. She didn’t hear him, her focus locked on navigating the treacherous ground ahead. Then she stumbled. Almost instantly, vines erupted, writhing toward her.

Ash’s muscles tensed. No… move! He could only watch as she dove through a hole in the wall, vanishing from sight. The vines followed, slithering into the opening. If I don’t do something, they might reach her. Can’t let that happen.
The floor was carpeted in creeping tendrils, forcing him to move with extreme care. Each step felt like walking over coiled snakes ready to strike. He advanced slowly, scanning for a path, until he reached a pile of rubble jutting from the center of the water. One wrong step and I’ll be in that mess with her. With a running leap, he landed atop it—now close enough to act. The vines were still forcing their way into the hole after Arcea.

Ash pulled the fire orb from his pocket—the one taken from the beastman—and hurled it with all his strength at the swarm. Burn. The moment it struck, a violent burst of flame erupted, engulfing the tendrils in a roaring blaze. The acrid stench of burning plant matter filled the air. That should keep them off her…

Then, a sound froze him. A scream—deep, guttural, and unlike any beast he’d ever heard—echoed through the waterways. The monstrous cry rattled the stone, its unnatural tone twisting in his gut. What in the hells was that? The voice in his mind whispered a warning: That’s not an animal… Whatever it was, it was not something born of nature.

The scream drove most of the vines to retreat, sliding back into the water, clearing a path. Good… now move before they think twice. Ash jumped from the rubble back onto the walkway and sprinted toward a distant passage before the vines returned. As he moved, he could only hope the fire would be enough to halt their pursuit of Arcea. Hang on, kid. I’m coming.

Ash continued down the tunnel, his footsteps echoing in the dim light. The minutes stretched on until he reached a branching intersection. That’s when it happened—he came face to face with Ren and the white beastman. Both were dragging three farmhands behind them, still struggling weakly but overpowered.

Looks like everyone fell down here… and they’re dragging them off somewhere. I can’t let this stand.

Ash didn’t hesitate. He charged, polearm flashing, and slashed at the white beastman, forcing him to drop one of the farmhands. One down… now for the rest. He moved to engage again, but neither Ren nor the beastman stopped to confront him—they kept moving forward.

Then Ash saw it. A wave of vines barreling down the tunnel from the direction the beastmen had come.

“Shit.”

Not now… The vines were almost upon them. Ash and the freed farmhand bolted after Ren, their footsteps pounding against the stone. But Ren suddenly turned, pulling a massive brown orb from his side. With a single motion, he hurled it to the ground. The orb erupted, forming a solid earthen wall that blocked the tunnel entirely.

Ash’s gut sank. They’re cutting me off… and I don’t have time to find another way. He glanced at the farmhand beside him. Damn it… there’s only one way I’m walking out of this alive.

“Sorry, miss, but I cannot die here.”

With a swift, brutal motion, he drove the shaft of his polearm into the back of her neck. She crumpled, still conscious for a brief moment before collapsing, and he tossed her limp body toward the approaching vines. The tendrils instantly coiled around her, piercing skin and draining the life from her in a grotesque display.

Ash backed against the wall, every muscle tensed, praying the vines would stop. Come on… take the bait. His gamble paid off—they focused entirely on their new prey, sucking her dry.

Turning back to the earthen wall, Ash began stabbing it with his polearm, over and over. Come on… faster. I’m not dying in this tunnel. Chips of dirt and rock fell away in bursts until at last a gap formed. I’m so glad vines cannot hear or I’d be dead. Ash worked until the hole was just big enough to crawl through.

He emerged on the other side, breath ragged. Still alive… Ash caught his breath. Without looking back, he sprinted down the path the beastmen had taken.

Ash eventually found a room at the end of the tunnel that opened into a medium-sized chamber. Creeping quietly to the threshold, he peered around the corner. There, in front of a heavy door, stood Ren and the grey beastman. The farmhands lay on the ground beside them, weak but still alive.

They’ll smell me before I get close… Ash stepped out anyway, deciding there was no point in hiding.

“Before I forget—this is for you.” He tossed the severed tongue he had taken earlier onto the floor before them. “The beastman didn’t want to talk, so I tore it out. I wonder how long the two of you will last before the same happens to you.”

The taunt had the desired effect on the grey beastman, who growled and crouched, ready to spring. But Ren’s voice cut through the tension.

“Stop.”

Ren turned to the grey beastman. “Take them and go. If I don’t return, gather reinforcements and meet me at Point B.”

The grey beastman hesitated. “Boss—”

“Go. Now!” Ren barked.

With a final glare, the grey beastman hauled the farmhands over his shoulders and disappeared through the door.

Ren’s gaze shifted back to Ash, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’ve interfered enough. I think it’s time I put you down.”

Ash charged before Ren could move, their weapons clashing in a blur of steel and sparks. Ren moved fast—faster than most beastmen Ash had fought—but Ash’s strikes were heavy and relentless, each one forcing Ren to step back. Ren countered with sharp slashes aimed at Ash’s arms and legs, trying to cripple him, but Ash twisted aside, blocking with the haft of his polearm and shoving him off balance.

Ren feinted left and lunged right, claws raking Ash’s side. Pain flared,*No weakness… no poison. Must’ve lost it in the fall. * but Ash ignored it, spinning into a low sweep that caught Ren’s shin and nearly sent him to the ground. Ren snarled, recovering just in time to block a thrust aimed at his chest.

He’s quick… but I’m breaking through. Ash pressed harder, his strikes coming faster, more unpredictable. A heavy overhead swing forced Ren to dodge low, and Ash’s follow-up kick slammed into his ribs, drawing a grunt of pain. The tide of the fight was turning.

Realizing it, Ren’s expression darkened. He leapt back, reaching into his pocket. “Enough.” He hurled a black orb to the ground.

Instantly, a thick black mist exploded outward, swallowing the light and muting all sound. Ash’s vision vanished. Quick, darting footsteps echoed all around him, the sound bouncing off the stone so rapidly it seemed Ren was everywhere at once.

A sudden slash burned across Ash’s back. He grimaced.

Ren’s voice came from nowhere. “You tortured one of us… so I’ll make this slow.”

More footsteps—then another slash. And another. Ash’s options narrowed with every strike. Can’t keep spinning in circles like this. Backing into the wall, he slammed the spiked butt of his polearm into the ground, anchoring it upright.

He waited, breath slow, forcing himself to focus. Another cut scored his face, blood hot against his skin. He held his ground. The mist began to thin just enough to catch Ren’s outline as he lunged.

This was the moment Ash had been waiting for. As Ren’s hand reached for his throat, Ash caught his arm, pivoted hard, and drove it straight onto the polearm’s blade. The weapon bit deep, severing Ren’s forearm in a spray of blood. Ren roared in pain, staggering.

Ash stomped the back of his knee, dropping him to the floor, and slammed his head into the wall again and again. But in the scuffle, a slash nicked Ash’s throat, and blood began to seep down his neck. The loss of blood from the prolonged fight caused Ash to weaken and fall back.

Ren, dazed, stumbled back to his feet and hurled another orb—a brown one. His throw went wide, striking a cluster of pipes. Steam hissed and water began to pour into the room. An alarm blared as heavy doors started to descend.

Ren staggered to the large door, slipping through just before it sealed shut.

The water rose quickly. Ash’s legs trembled from blood loss, his grip on the polearm unsteady. The water reached his chest… his neck… his mouth. Not like this… Soon it was over his head, and he sank, vision dimming.

A sound cracked through the water—stone breaking. The weakened wall where Ren’s orb had struck gave way, and the torrent dragged Ash through a jagged gap into a cavern. The current hurled him along a narrow river until his hand caught on a metal grate. It led to what looked like an ancient walkway.

With the last of his strength, he pulled himself onto it. His vision tunneled. The world went black as he collapsed, unconscious from blood loss.

Her eyes slowly opened to the sight of a giant crack in the ceiling of a massive cave.

“Shit, that hurt,” Xanathis muttered. The blue-haired half-breed stood out even when wounded—her loose, windswept ponytail framed her sharp-featured face, her tall, smooth-skinned ears twitching slightly as they caught the echoes of the cavern. Her skin was a smooth, slate-gray with a faint bluish undertone, and her ice-blue eyes carried a predatory gleam. Clad in a striking red-and-black outfit reinforced with belts, straps, and light armor, she lay in a pool of her own blood. Then, unnaturally, the blood began to move—flowing back into her body, sealing her wounds as if rewinding time.

Better lie here for a bit… I hit the ground pretty hard. If I were human, I’d be nothing more than a smear on the floor. Damn lucky.

She continued to gaze upward until a voice called from a higher ledge along one of the cave’s side paths.

“Xanathis! Are you okay?”

It was Karna, her blue hair hanging loosely forward over the edge as she leaned out, looking down at Xanathis from above.

Xanathis’s ears twitched toward the sound. “I’ll survive. What shitty luck—the ground just disappeared beneath us.”

“Stay there! I’ll save you, just wait for me!” Karna called back before disappearing from view, her footsteps echoing through the cavern.

Xanathis sighed under her breath. Not everyone needs saving, you annoying brat.

She pushed herself up, her body now healed, and scanned the massive cave. Rivers of water cut through the stone floor, intersected by rusting metal grates and walkways. Up ahead, a weathered stone building caught her eye. That looks like the best direction to head.

As she started along the metal walkway, movement in the distance caught her attention—beasts emerging from the river, converging on something she couldn’t make out. The scent of blood reached her, heavy and strange—a mix of human and something else. That’s too much blood for comfort. And it’s fresh. Deciding to intervene, she raised her hand and formed a spike of ice, hurling it toward the nearest creature. The spike impaled the beast and pinned it to a wall near a bleeding man. From the impact, frost spread, coating the man in a thin sheet of ice that left only his head exposed.

The other beasts turned toward her, snarling, as more climbed from the water to block her path. Persistent pests. Let’s make this quick. She drew her sword from her back and pressed a button on her wristband. A small piece of metal slid across, then returned to its original position. Blood trickled from the wristband onto her blade, at first a slow drip, then a steady flood until the entire length was covered in a sinister, blood-forged edge that extended the weapon’s reach.

The beasts leapt, and with each savage swing of her sword, the blood-forged edge seemed to swell and lengthen, greedily drinking in the lifeblood of its victims. Every strike cleaved them cleanly in half, the growing blade leaving the walkway slick with blood and strewn with entrails. Her ears twitched at a splash to her right—another beast lunging from the river. She tapped her foot, freezing the ground around her, and a spike of ice erupted upward, skewering the creature mid-leap and freezing it solid.

Dodging and striking, she cut through the swarm, then jumped back as more closed in. She whispered, “Ice Lance,” and ten large ice spikes formed above her before shooting forward at her gesture, piercing multiple targets. Frost spread from the impact points, trapping the survivors. “Blood Slash,” she whispered, swinging her blade in a wide arc. A massive crescent of blood tore through the frozen enemies, splitting them cleanly in half; their bisected, frost-coated forms stood unnervingly still for a moment before blood began to pour down their sides like overflowing cups, drenching the ground in a thick, crimson flood.

A giant beast rose from the river—larger than the rest, with a gaping maw and a long, serpent-like neck. It slithered forward over the corpses of its kin, growling deep and loud.

Xanathis met its threat with a flat, uninterested look. Bigger target, same problem. She sheathed her sword, raised her hand, and said, “Chaos Slash.” With a snap of her fingers, all the blood in the area surged upward from the pooling gore, twisting into dozens of razor-sharp tendrils. They lashed downward in a storm of crimson blades, slicing through flesh, muscle, and bone. The slices were so precise and clean that the beast’s body held together for a heartbeat longer, standing in eerie stillness. Then, like a crumbling tower, it collapsed in on itself, chunks of flesh and bone folding down as blood and gore gushed out in a torrent, flooding the walkway and pooling thick in the water.

She extended her palm, the blood from the beast and every splatter around her ripping free from flesh, pooling water, and even the cracks in the stone. The streams converged midair, spiraling and twisting into a dense, churning sphere that pulsed like a living heart. Every drop belongs to me. Thick rivulets continued to feed into it until it swelled larger than her head, rotating slowly in her grasp. The gem at the base of her sword greedily sucked the blood straight from the sphere in her palm, drawing it in like thick strands of hair being pulled into a drain. The sphere never left her hand, each thick strand vanishing into the gem in slow, deliberate pulls. With every pulse, it shrank until only a medium-sized orb of blood remained, which slipped free and flowed back into her wristband, disappearing into her body like it had never spilled at all.

Bending down, she picked up a small piece of the beast’s meat, wrapping it before stowing it in her pouch. Another she brought to her mouth and bit into—only to spit it out with a grimace.

“Disgusting. Maybe it’ll taste better cooked.” She tossed it into the river, wiped her mouth, and looked down at the still-partially-frozen man. Her lips curved into a wide, feral smile. Handsome, and you smell quite nice for a half-dead man.

Ash’s eyes opened slowly, the dim shimmer of the cavern sharpening into focus. He tried to push himself up, but a firm, gentle hand pressed against his chest.

“Don’t move, handsome. I’m still healing your wounds,” a woman’s voice murmured.

Turning his head, he saw her — a demi-human woman, palm hovering above his torn flesh. Thin streams of blood poured from her hand like silken threads, weaving into his wounds with uncanny precision. The warmth flooding his body was alive, deeper than any healing orb could give — it reached into the marrow of his bones.

“Who… who are you?” His voice was rough.

“Xanathis,” she replied. “My partner and I came here for you.”

“Why? How—”

“Save it. You were close to death. If I hadn’t arrived, you’d be a corpse. Now… tell me what happened.”

As her magic worked, Ash recounted the brutal events, the hateful look Ren had thrown at him before escaping. She listened in silence, eyes locked on her work.

“You lived through all that? Healing orbs are toys compared to real magic. You’ll recover now,” she said, her tone carrying a finality that suggested there would be no argument — the kind of certainty born from complete confidence in her magic.

Ash sat up, surprised by the strength returning to his body. “That was magic?”

“Yes. Real magic. Want to learn?”

“You mean… I can?”

“Anyone can, if their mana pathways are opened. My father taught me.” She gestured for him to copy her stance, palm-to-palm, fingers interlaced. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear, “Relax. Concentrate. You’ll feel it.”

A slow heat spread through him as her mana pushed into his body. “What is this?”

“My mana, forcing your pathways open.”

It reached every limb. She sniffed him over and over. “…Why do you keep smelling me?”

“You’re unique. Not human, not demi-human. A natural-born half-breed — like me.” Her eyes locked with his for a lingering moment, an unspoken recognition passing between them. Then, as if catching herself, she stepped back abruptly. “Done. You can now use magic… once you discover your affinity.” Then, breaking the silent exchange, she turned on her heel and strode toward the massive, shadowed building she had spotted earlier.

Their path wound through shadowed halls and echoing chambers. Beasts lunged from the dark; Xanathis cut them down with icy precision as she explained magic in deliberate, vivid detail — the concept of affinities, how some people naturally draw certain elements to them; the role of imagination as the core fuel for shaping spells; the way naming a spell aloud can give it an extra surge of force, yet how in desperate situations or when speed was essential, casting without speaking its name would not weaken it enough to make it useless. She went on to paint a picture of combination magic for those lucky enough to possess more than one affinity, describing how two elements could be merged into devastating, creative results. Ash took it all in, storing each word in memory even as steel rang against steel and frozen gore cracked underfoot.

They stepped into the looming stone structure, their footsteps echoing against the high, arched ceiling. Rust‑flecked pipes of varying size crisscrossed the walls and overhead like a tangled web of veins, each fitted with heavy iron valves that hissed faintly with the pulse of flowing water. In the cavernous center stood a massive, ancient‑looking machine bristling with rows of strange buttons and dials, their markings etched in a language neither of them could read. The air smelled faintly of oil and damp stone, and the low hum of pressure filled the silence. This was clearly the central hub of the waterways — a place where every pipe in the network seemed to converge. At the far end of the hall, the largest conduits disappeared through a reinforced locked door, their thick frames leading deeper into the unknown.

The blood from her arm pooled thickly onto the stone floor, dark and glistening, before it began to crackle with a thin sheet of frost. Even as it froze, it slithered forward with uncanny liquidity, tendrils of crimson ice creeping into the keyhole. Inside, it twisted and molded itself with perfect precision until it solidified into the exact shape of the lock’s mechanism. Without hesitation, Xanathis stepped forward, gripped the sculpted blood-ice, and gave it a sharp turn — the metal gate clicked open with a dull echo in the cavern.

The frozen construct shivered, then squirmed back toward her as if alive, flowing up her arm in thick strands before vanishing into the wristband like water down a drain.

Ash watched, caught between awe and calculation. With magic like that, she could slip me into Bernswick’s mansion without a sound… no guard, no lock, no barrier would stop us. I could end him. The thought spiraled in his mind, dark and tempting.

Before he could follow it deeper, Xanathis was suddenly right in his face, her sharp gaze snapping him back. “You okay? You seemed lost in your own world. Don’t we need to find that daughter of yours?”

Ash forced his thoughts to settle, focusing on the mission instead.

From behind, Xanathis watched him resume his stride, that feral grin curling on her lips

They continued forward, boots scraping against the damp stone until they stepped into another chamber where the stale air reeked of iron and rot. Two doors stood ahead, both shut tight, but Ash’s eyes were immediately drawn to a thick, dark trail smeared across the floor — fresh blood, glistening under the dim light. It led straight to a heavy metal door, its surface dented and rattling faintly. Coiling over and around it in a tangled mass, the vines pulsed and writhed, their thorny lengths straining and twisting violently, trying to seize whatever unfortunate soul had slipped away to the other side of the door before they could drag it back. In that moment, Ash pieced it together — Ren must have been pursued, slamming the door shut behind him to block the attack, leaving the carnivorous tendrils to seethe hungrily across its surface.

Xanathis eyed the writhing, thorn‑covered mass. “I could try freezing them,” she said cautiously, “but I’m not sure if more would come crawling the moment I destroy these ones.”

Ash’s mind churned, working through half‑formed plans, but a sudden, thunderous bang against the door shattered his focus. The vines jerked and squirmed violently, their thorny coils tightening in agitation.

A second blow followed, louder, heavier, making the entire frame shudder. Then a third — metal groaned, buckling inward as massive dents warped its surface. The vines went wild, lashing out in chaotic arcs, and in the next heartbeat the hinges tore free. A chunk of the wall ripped loose with the door and was hurled across the chamber, crashing into stone with a deafening boom.

From the jagged opening, the vines surged toward the silhouette now framed in the gap where the door and part of the wall had been torn away. Ash barely had time to register the figure before the stranger slammed a their greave‑clad foot down, the greave blazing with hungry flames. Her sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos: “Firewall!”

The stomp triggered an eruption of fire that roared outward, the heat slamming into Ash’s face as the wall of flames expanded in a violent sweep. The nearest vines ignited instantly, curling and twisting as charred vine-flesh split under the searing heat. The stench of scorched plant matter was thick, almost choking, mixing with the sharp hiss and wet pops of burning moisture within the vines. The flames painted the chamber in a savage orange glow, shadows writhing along the walls. From somewhere beyond the fiery veil came another scream — closer now, sharper, and laced with an urgency that made Ash’s gut tighten.

The figure’s voice rang out over the crackle of dying flames, edged with irritation. “How many of these damn vines are there? This is getting ridiculous.”

As the firestorm receded, the silhouette stepped through the smoke and debris — Karna, her armor still faintly steaming, framed in the jagged hole where the wall and door had been ripped apart.

Her eyes swept the room until they locked on Xanathis. “You’re safe. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Then her gaze slid to Ash. She drew a small brass compass from her belt, flicked it open, and watched as the needle spun before clicking decisively in his direction.

Relief softened her features. “Finally. I found you. We need to get out of here — I have something very important to tell you.”

Ash’s reply came quickly, his voice edged with urgency. “I can’t leave until I find my daughter — she’s trapped somewhere down here.”

Karna’s brows lifted slightly. “Ahh… you mean the little pink‑haired demi‑human? I spotted her just up ahead. She and the others were sealed in a room near the exit to this place.”

“You found an exit?” Ash asked, hope and tension battling in his voice.

Karna nodded once, her expression tightening. “Yes, but it’s swarming with vines — and it looks like they’re already feeding on someone.”

Ash’s mind flicked immediately to Ren, picturing the beastman caught in those writhing coils.

“Take me to my daughter,” he said, the words leaving no room for argument.

Karna nodded, her tone clipped but urgent. "Follow me." She led them forward, boots and greaves striking the damp stone as they passed through the vast chamber where the planet’s exposed core bathed everything in a cold, ethereal light. The massive space echoed with their footsteps, the glow casting long, shifting shadows against the walls. At the far end, they came to a heavy, sealed door with narrow slits and gaps between the metal plating.

They gathered before it, scanning for a latch or mechanism. Ash’s brow furrowed as he searched for a way to open it—then Arcea’s voice broke the tense silence. She had spotted him through one of the openings, her green eyes wide and brimming with tears. She rushed to the gap, pressing her face close.

“Dad! Dad, you’re okay!”

Ash crouched, reaching through to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine. The exit’s right past this door—we just need to figure out how to open it.”

“There’s some kind of machine over here,” Arcea replied quickly, glancing over her shoulder. “But we can’t figure it out.”

Karna stepped forward, eyes narrowing at the door’s reinforced frame. “If you can’t open it… go around it. All of you, stay back.”

Karna strode past the door to the solid stone wall beside it, her greave-clad steps echoing with purpose. She raised her hand, and the runes on her wristband flared to life with a vivid blue glow. In a flash of light, a massive gauntlet materialized over her arm, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the glow. Her voice rang with force as she declared, “Exploding Fist!”

Stone and earth surged around the gauntlet, swelling until it was three times its size, the cracks between the layers glowing with molten light like veins of living lava. The heat radiating from it shimmered in the air as the dense mass compressed tighter and tighter, threatening to erupt. Karna shifted into a solid stance, drew back her fist, and then drove it forward with all her strength. A deep, splitting crack thundered through the air, followed by a bone-rattling boom as the wall exploded outward in a blast of fire and stone. Shards and chunks of rock rained down, flames licking along the fractured edges. The entire chamber shuddered violently. Karna shouted over the chaos, urging them through the smoking gap. Arcea, Quinn, and Lana dashed through; Quinn barely avoided a collapsing slab of ceiling that crashed down where he had stood moments before.

Karna turned to them, her expression softening into a kind smile. "Everyone all right?" she asked, voice warm—only to jolt forward a step as a sharp whack landed squarely on the back of her head.

Xanathis stood behind her, palm still raised, eyes narrowed in a mix of frustration and disbelief. "What in the hells were you thinking, using something that strong down here? We’re underground—you could’ve brought the whole place down on top of us. Next time, think before you act, or at least ask before doing something that reckless. Whoever sent you on this mission should’ve made damn sure you had real-world experience first."

Karna winced, rubbing the sore spot with an awkward laugh. "Sorry… I’ll do better next time."

But the force of Karna’s explosive strike didn’t just shake loose stone — it rippled through the chamber, sending dust spiraling from the ceiling. As Karna was still apologizing, a sharp, inhuman shriek cut through the air, echoing off the walls. Every head turned toward the distant glow of the core’s light, just in time to see movement. From around the bend emerged a massive, red‑petaled plant, its bud pulsing as if alive. Thick, muscular vines writhed outward, coiling and uncoiling with a predator’s intent, their thorn‑studded lengths dragging across the floor in a slow, menacing advance.

Instinct took over. They shifted into stances, weapons raised and ready, each breath tightening as the looming threat drew closer.