Strategy Room, Iron Hearth Castle. Night – One Day Before the Expedition.
The oil lamp at the center of the oak table sputtered restlessly, casting long, dancing shadows against the cold stone walls. Outside, the night wind whistled through the cracks in the masonry, but inside the room, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke on.
Spread across the table was a new map. It wasn't the usual tactical layout of Aethelgard; instead, it was a complex schematic of the subterranean geological structures, painstakingly redrawn by Rianor. The data had been pieced together from the sonar remnants of the fallen monster and ancient records unearthed from the depths of the family library.
The expedition team gathered around the table, their faces grim under the flickering firelight. There was no banter. No easy smiles. They knew exactly what was at stake.
"We call it the Abyssal Zone," Rianor said, breaking the silence. His finger tapped a pitch-black area at the very bottom of the map. "Two thousand meters below sea level."
"What are we looking at?" Riven asked softly.
The eldest son was already clad in his new gear. Gone was the ostentatious gold-plated armor he used to flaunt at city festivals. Tonight, he wore a matte black suit of plate—recycled from the Obsidian Crawler's hide. It was significantly lighter, yet preternaturally hard. His injured left arm was no longer in a sling, though his movements remained occasionally stiff.
"Hell," Rianor replied curtly. He pushed up his spectacles. "Oxygen is thin, nearly non-existent. There are pockets of methane and toxic sulfur. Furthermore, the gravity is unstable in several sectors due to intense magnetic anomalies."
Rianor met his siblings' gazes one by one, ensuring they were listening. "And according to Elara's mana sensors... the energy concentration down there is dense. Dense enough to boil the brain of an ordinary human in minutes."
"Enemies?" Rhea asked. She sat at the corner of the table, tying her long hair back tightly before testing the edge of her Mithril dagger with her thumb.
"Unknown," Rianor admitted. "But if that Obsidian Crawler was just the 'doorman,' imagine what's waiting in the living room."
Rianor tapped a red dot on the map. "The primary target is the Adamantite deposit. We take enough for the rifle barrels and get out. Do not try to be a hero. Do not let curiosity kill you. In, out, done. Understood?"
A resolute nod came from everyone.
"Rumina," Rianor called. "Show them the gear. Our lives are in your hands tonight."
Rumina stepped forward. The fifteen-year-old girl looked far older than her years tonight. Dark circles shadowed her eyes from days of relentless tinkering. She pulled a large iron chest across the floor. Creak.
"First," Rumina pulled out a complex-looking face mask crafted from leather and glass tubes. "The Rebreather Mask. It contains a wind crystal to circulate the air. Wear it and never take it off, or the acidic gases will melt your lungs."
She then handed out a box of syringes filled with a glowing red liquid. "Stimulant Shots. A mixture of adrenaline and Mana Potion extract. If you're gravely injured or lose the strength to run... inject this into your thigh. You'll be able to keep moving for an hour even with a broken leg."
Rumina swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly. "But... the side effects are excruciating. Your heart could stop if you take more than one dose."
"And specifically for Riven..."
Rumina walked to a dark corner of the room and pulled back a heavy cloth. A massive battle-axe leaned against the wall. But this was no ordinary weapon. The blade consisted of rows of jagged saw-teeth taken from the monster's jaw. A miniature steam engine was embedded in the thick haft, complete with a tiny exhaust pipe.
"The Chain-Axe," Rumina said proudly, her eyes sparkling for a moment. "I installed a rotary engine inside. Pull this lever, and the blades will spin at three thousand RPM. It can cut through stone, steel, and... well, anything."
Riven approached, gripping the axe with his right hand. It was heavy. Predatory. The vibration of the dormant engine seemed to call to his wilder side.
"I like the feel of this," Riven offered a thin smirk. It was his first genuine smile in a week. "Let's see how the monsters down there like being ground to dust."
Mithril Cave Entrance – The Gateway to the Deep. Before Dawn.
A thick fog blanketed the Northreach valley, and the morning air was a piercing cold that sank into the marrow. The sun had yet to fully rise, leaving the world in a somber shade of grey.
The expedition party of twenty-five was already assembled before the gaping, dark mouth of the cave. Riven led the vanguard alongside Captain Garrick, while Rianor, Elara, and Rumina were positioned in the center, protected by Rhea and the elite guard at the rear.
Duke Lucian and Duchess Aurelia came to see them off. The atmosphere was emotional, yet devoid of formal ceremony. Aurelia hugged Rumina tightly, as if reluctant to let her little girl go into that lethal pit.
"Rumina... stay close to Rianor, okay?" Aurelia whispered, her voice shaking as she fought back tears. "Don't try to be brave. If there's danger, run. Let your brothers handle it."
"I will, Mom. I've got plenty of smoke bombs in my bag," Rumina replied, trying to stay strong despite her trembling lips.
Aurelia then turned to Riven, cupping the face of her eldest son, which was now marked with fresh scars. "Look after your siblings, Riven. But please... for god's sake, look after yourself too. I can't bear to see you carried home again. My heart won't take it."
Riven looked into his mother's eyes, seeing the raw terror there. "I promise, Mom." Riven kissed her hand with solemn respect. "We're all coming home. Every one of us."
Duke Lucian approached Riven. He didn't offer a hug, but instead handed him something wrapped in black velvet. "Open it."
Riven unwrapped the cloth. An ancient dagger with a hilt shaped like a lion's head lay within. The blade didn't gleam, but it radiated a strange, biting chill.
"That is the Fang of the North," Lucian said heavily. "A weapon belonging to our great-grandfather, the founder of House Sudrath."
Lucian locked eyes with his son. "Once, he used this to slay a Goblin King in these very caves. Now, it's your turn. If your axe breaks, if your engine dies... use the Fang. Remind the monsters down there who the true masters of this land are. Do not let the Sudrath name be extinguished in the dark."
Riven tucked the dagger into his belt. "Yes, Father."
Rianor, who was double-checking his compass, felt a vibration in his coat pocket. He pulled a small slip of paper from his portable pager. A message from Roland in the Capital.
MESSAGE:"Good luck, Bookworm. Don't go dying on me. I'm currently dancing with Dragons, and my toes have been stepped on three times already. If you die, I'm inheriting all my debts to your ghost. – R."
Rianor offered a thin smile as he adjusted his glasses. "Idiot," he murmured softly, though his heart felt a fraction lighter.
"TIME TO MOVE!" Riven roared, his voice echoing against the cliff walls. "LIGHTS ON!"
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Twenty-five crystal lamps on their helms ignited simultaneously, piercing the dawn fog with sharp blue beams. The rhythmic thud of iron-shod boots began in earnest. The party marched into the cold, dark maw of the cave.
The sunlight slowly vanished behind them, replaced by the eternal darkness of the underworld. They had crossed the boundary of the human world. Ahead lay only dark mysteries and threats waiting in the silence.