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Smith’s hands shook as the massive blast doors slowly groaned open. When the passage beyond them was revealed, the man fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

“I did it… I opened the doors just like you–”

The Undead Lord stepped past him without a word and yet Smith still looked up at him, hope in his eyes.

“…You’ll keep your promise?”

A skeletal hand rested briefly upon his head.

“Wise… choice…”

Relief washed over him.

“…Thank—”

The word caught in his throat when he realized the Lord had already walked away from him, paying him no further attention as the first undead emerged through the open doors, walking shakily but steadily onward.

Smith frowned.

“…Wait…”

It wasn’t long before the corridor beyond the blast doors darkened, not because the lanterns had gone out, but because countless undead were pouring through the opening and swallowing the light beneath their advancing bodies.

“No! Don’t! AAAAAH–!”

𓌏

“Run!”

Murry’s voice tore through the mine, and although nobody asked why, nobody really needed to. They all knew exactly what had happened.

“Smith, you fool!” One of the miners shouted, “What have you done?!”

Everyone was already moving before he’d finished shouting, lanterns swinging wildly as boots pounded against the stone.

Behind them, the sound of the approaching horde continued to swell until it no longer resembled footsteps, but an avalanche of death rolling through the tunnels.

Flint threw one quick glance over his shoulder, to see that the darkness at the far end of the tunnel… was moving.

“Don’t stop!” Murry barked, “We need to warn the city guard in time!”

The mine shook beneath their feet, sending dust drifting down from the ceiling as the walls groaned around them.

Then—

CRAAAAASH!

The entire tunnel lurched beneath their feet as stone exploded from the ceiling, and before anyone could react, a timber beam snapped in half and slammed across the passage, burying several miners beneath broken rock and a choking cloud of dust.

Everyone threw themselves to the ground in reflex. When the rumbling finally stopped, the silence that followed lasted only a few moments before a groan echoed from the far side of the collapse.

Murry looked back, his expression changing immediately as he took in the destruction behind them.

“The cave-in split the tunnel…”

Flint brushed the dust from his face and saw that two separate piles of rubble now blocked the passage: the first had collapsed farther back, sealing most of the tunnel leading toward the refuge, while the second had buried several miners beneath broken beams and shattered rock only a few paces ahead of them.

A hand burst through the rubble.

“Help!”

Another miner clawed desperately at the stones.

“We’re trapped!”

From behind the first collapse something slammed against the rocks, as loose stones tumbled free towards their feet.

Murry’s face contorted, but he didn’t hesitate; he didn’t like it—not one bit—but the ex-knight had already come to terms with what had to be done.

“We’re leaving.”

Flint turned to face him, confusion evident in his eyes.

“What? But they’re—”

“The first collapse bought us time.”

Another impact shook the tunnel.

“But it won’t hold for long, kid.”

Some of the miners had already begun shaking their heads. The oldest one stopped flailing his arm towards them and simply let go.

“Go. Warn Vega.”

“We’ll only slow you down.”

Murry looked at them for a long moment, his expression barely staying the way he wanted it to.

“See? They’re saying so themselves.”

Flint stared.

“We can’t do that…”

“We need to save the city.”

Another crash echoed behind the rubble.

“…This isn’t right.” Isla looked toward the trapped miners, “If we’re fast… we can still get them out.”

“This isn’t a discussion.”

Murry’s tone was firm despite the conflict within him.

Flint didn’t budge, his eyes trained at the few trapped miners who still clawed helplessly at the stones

“…They’re still alive.”

Murry’s jaw tightened.

“So will thousands of people if we leave. Didn’t you say the same thing about my captain? That he died to save people?”

Flint knelt beside the rubble without another word, as he lifted a rock off the rubble and tossed it away.

Dust slowly filled the air.

“Your captain chose his sacrifice. They’re surrendering to theirs.”

Murry gritted his teeth.

Flint was right. His captain willingly chose to die saving others… the miners were allowing guilt to convince them that death was the only punishment they deserved.

Isla looked between the trapped miners and the growing pile of rubble.

“…You’re really doing this.”

Flint simply kept digging.

One miner reached toward him.

“…Leave us, young man. We deserve this.”

Flint didn’t look at him as he lifted another rock.

“Whether you deserve to die isn’t for me to judge.”

Another miner broke into tears.

“Damn it… I don’t wanna die.”

The oldest miner however seemed to have already accepted his fate.

“We brought this on ourselves. We don’t deserve to be saved after all we’ve done.”

“Then stand trial. You don’t get to choose your own sentence.”

“W-What?” The older miner stammered.

“You committed terrible crimes… and you should be judged for them.” Flint dragged another rock aside. “But I’m not choosing your deaths while I can still prevent them.”

He continued clearing the rubble as though it were just another day in the village—as though saving them was the most natural thing in the world.

“Kid!”

“If you want to warn Vega… go.” Flint turned towards him, his smile still present, “But I’m not going to leave them here.”

Isla looked between the two of them, as the approaching horde grew nearer. She let out a low sigh, nodded to herself, and pulled her staff free before she started helping too. Using a kinetic spell, she managed to knock a few rocks loose.

Flint turned to Isla, giving her a small smile.

“Thanks, Isla.”

Isla met his eyes.

“I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Have you two finally lost your damned minds?!”

“Murry…” Flint looked back again, “Go. We’re not leaving them here.”

He wasn’t angry. Nor in doubt. He knew exactly what was at stake. That was why he had given Murry the choice to leave and warn Vega. But as long as another path remained open—even a dangerous one—Flint refused to decide that these men had to die. Flint returned to the rubble as though the conversation had already ended.

Murry let out a long, exhausted breath as he realized…

There was no getting through to him, was there?

“…Goddamn it.”

He drew his longsword and without another word he walked toward the first collapse. He planted himself directly in front of the narrow gap where the first undead would inevitably crawl through.

“You two.”

He didn’t look back as he spoke.

“…You’ve got one chance.”

Another stone rolled away from the collapse as a grey hand forced itself through the opening.

Murry tightened his grip.

“You better make it count!”

Flint nodded at Murry, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Thank you, Murry.”

Then he turned around and continued digging, his breathing growing more ragged. Every rock he pulled free revealed another wedged beneath it.

Isla’s spells had become noticeably weaker too as their efforts continued.

Another impact shook the first collapse.

Murry’s sword moved quickly and precisely– the head of the first undead rolled to the ground.

A second one immediately crawled through after it.

“A little faster, eh!” Murry shouted.

Flint simply answered by lifting another stone.

Finally the trapped miners became visible from the waist up, hope flickering across their faces.

“We’re almost there!”

Flint wedged both hands beneath the fallen timber.

“…Ready?”

The trapped miners nodded desperately before he pulled.

He pulled, but the beam refused to move, even as his muscles tensed and the veins in his forearms stood out beneath the dirt.

“AAAH! DAMN IT!”

“Kid! Stop!” Murry immediately called.

Murry drove his sword through the skull of an undead crawling over the rubble before kicking the corpse back into the narrow opening to buy him more time.

“Flint!”

Flint ignored him, taking another breath before trying again, but despite all his strength, the beam shifted only a finger’s width.

“That thing is holding the ceiling in place!”

CRACK

A fracture spread across the ceiling above the trapped miners, freezing everyone where they stood as dust drifted down over their heads. Flint immediately shoved the beam back into place.

The tunnel fell quiet again.

Isla slowly stepped forward.

“…Flint. If we take this out then it will come down on them.”

She rested a hand against the timber, her expression slowly changing.

One of the miners let out a bitter laugh.

“…If that beam comes out… we won’t have to worry about the undead.”

Another impact echoed behind Murry as more stones spilled from the first collapse.

A third undead forced its shoulders through the gap but Murry managed to cut it down before it could stand straight.

His breathing had become noticeably heavier.

“…Kid.”

Flint remained silent.

“You tried. There’s nothing more you can do.”

Steel rang against decayed bone once more.

“We have to go!”

The oldest miner slowly lowered his head.

“He’s right.”

Another nodded too.

“Leave us.”

Draw.

The familiar ancient voice echoed in his head once more.

Defeat the undead before you. Buy them time.

No…

Flint’s limbs froze.

His mind replayed Isla’s words after the inn incident.

“Next time… prove you can do it without the sword.”

And that’s exactly what he’d do.

Not this time!

He had promised he’d try to find another way.

Flint stared at the beam, then at the narrow space beneath it, allowing his eyes to linger there for several long moments. It didn’t take long for Isla to understand as she followed his gaze.

“…Flint.”

He simply rolled his shoulders.

“Don’t.”

She took a hurried step toward him.

“If you take that weight—”

He wiped the dirt from his cheek with the back of his hand and smiled.

There was no way he was just going to leave them there. Not until he had done all in his power to get them out.

“There’s still a way.”

Murry turned just in time to see Flint duck beneath the beam.

“Hey what the—!”

Flint planted one shoulder beneath the timber and pressed both hands against the rough wood.

Murry’s eyes went wide as he saw the young man lift the beam off the ground, against his back.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”