A group of nine people made their way down the mines. Walking at the very back beside Old Quin, Ciel's mind raced as he observed the others gradually gathering around the old man.
According to Old Quin's previous makeshift map full of his sketches, two groups already had to have been formed to traverse the incoming tunnels.
That will be the closest thing I can get to a piece of good news. He mused to himself.
He is the only one who isn't hostile, at least not yet… but why? I am clearly a burden to everyone here, nothing but an oxygen thief. Why is he being this kind? What can he even gain?
Unable to reach a clear conclusion, Ciel began to look through the members of his group.
He was already familiar with the old man, Quin, and the lawn-faced Toren. While the last member of his group was unfamiliar to him.
That man walked in front of old Quin, more so giant than man, his skin was pale, similar to iron. His hair was ashen white and it flowed freely down the back of his neck, Ciel only saw his face in passing, his face was sharp, and a smile always appeared on his lips while his eyes were just like his hair—White.
The man remained calm and collected, with a faint smile on his face, but his labored breathing was the most noticeable sound—he was constantly out of breath. Dressed in a collection of rags that gave him the appearance of a slave, with the physique of a bodybuilder.
This group followed closely behind another led by Cole, who held a map in his hands. As both groups continued descending further into the mines, the air grew thinner with each step, making every breath a struggle.
As each of his breaths grew more labored, Ciel began to wonder.
How is there even any oxygen here? More importantly, how or why did we even get here? I remembered drowning… I died… but the others? They don't seem anywhere near as confused as me, still, how did they get here?
But without a lack of answers, his thoughts wandered somewhere else.
I'm walking… walking on my own, not even with a cane in hand. He had to hold back the immense joy he was feeling, something that proved to be impossible.
He couldn't even remember the last time he left his wheelchair. The same one that floated onto the surface of the water while he was stranded in the sea, something that Old Quin called his inner reflection.
I placed Cale's glasses back there, if I have a calm moment, I should try accessing that strange place again… whatever it is, I already have an item from Cale, I touched it, and it was right in my hands before disappearing. He remembered the sensation which still baffled him.
My wheelchair, his glasses—both of them were there. If not in this mine, then he has to be somewhere. In this world, in this dreamscape… whatever this is. I need to find him. I have to. He gritted his teeth, tightening his grasp on the heavy crate he had to carry, feeling a slight pain in his palm loosening on the box.
Gritting his teeth, he walked wordlessly while the dust got thicker, the air running even thinner and the weight of the box of explosives felt heavier and heavier.
The tall man with ashen white hair stopped in his tracks, turning towards Ciel, "Let me take that box." Without Ciel even getting the chance to answer, the man was already reaching for the box of explosives, taking it away from Ciel, and carrying it with ease.
"Thanks." Ciel thanked the man, only to hear a chuckle. "No big deal." With an easier load, he had less trouble while descending with the group, passing the crossroads where he originally woke up.
Thank you, big guy. He had to maintain a completely indifferent expression or they would devour him, but he was thankful.
Within minutes, they reached the spot where Old Quin had once kept watch over Ciel as a precaution.
Of the four lamps that had once illuminated the crossroads at this lowest level, only two remained, their faint, glimmering light barely illuminating the area.
Cole limped towards one of the still usable lanterns while Old Quin walked up, picking up the other.
Both of them approached the crossroads, which branched into seven tunnels leading to places that weren't amongst the scribbles of Old Quin's map.
"We go into the most left tunnel, Quin's team will choose their own." Instructed Coal without listening to the opinion of others, he made his way into the tunnel with Gavin in the front.
Old Quin just shrugged, "Let's go rightmost, I am somewhat familiar with it."
Just like the team behind Cole, Old Quin, and the people behind him left for the tunnel on the farthest right side, it was the widest and darkest tunnel out of the seven.
Inside the tunnel, Old Quin spoke up. "I ventured a bit into this one, but the calamity caught scent so I had to run." Old Quin chuckled dryly, now closer to the front of the group, only behind Toren who rested his hand on the scabbard of his blade.
"Did you see what it looked like?" Asked the giant out of morbid curiosity.
Maybe that calamity was the one who pulled us into this mine. Thought Ciel.
"I didn't see its whole body, all I saw were hands… not two, not even four… hell, I couldn't even count them. They were all pitch black with red miasma dripping like blood." Old Quin chuckled as he turned to Ciel, directly looking into Ciel's eyes, causing him to feel an immense amount of discomfort.
"If we run into it better pray it won't catch you if it does… It will grab you by the throat and tear you apart, limb by limb. It'll rip open your stomach, its hands yanking and shredding your intestines. And none of us will be able to do a thing about it. You'll be torn to pieces while we scatter like headless chickens. So, whatever god you believe in, you'd better start praying for their mercy—because that's all we've got left." Said Old Quin with quivering lips.
While listening to Old Quinn, everyone stopped, staring at the old man with withheld breaths.
"Pfttt" Old Quin laughed out loud immediately after as he saw the expression of the others. "Sorry, I just couldn't help myself. Even if we meet a lesser Calamity, Toren could handle it on his own."
Damned old bastard, I almost got ready to die again. And why even me, I didn't even ask. Ciel gritted his teeth but showed an indifferent look still.
They ventured further into the mines, the tunnel leading them deeper still.
Even though his joke was morbid, it managed to ease the nerves of the group, however, at best, it could only buy them a little time, as the rapidly running out of oxygen was bound to bring back despair soon.
With a map in hand, the group navigated the tunnels, but to their dismay, they soon encountered a branching path that split into three directions—one leading downward, another staying level, and the last leading slightly upward.
"Which one?" Asked Toren, turning back to the group.
"Let's take the right one, if it brings us higher, that's probably our best bet to leave the mines." Said the gigantic man, carrying the wooden crate with ease.
"I have to agree with Damian." Old Quin spoke up with a tone full of conviction.
Meanwhile, Ciel felt a tingle on his scalp, a feeling that slowly rose. An unexplainable sensation slowly filled up his mind with only the thought of getting out, and the way to do so felt to lead him down.
A dragging feeling pulled him toward the middle tunnel, the one that led them deeper down the mines, he couldn't explain it.
Should I speak up? Why do I even want to speak up? What the hell is this feeling? He couldn't help it, an intuition that felt strange and unexplainable. Should I ask the old man? No, I can't do that. In their eyes, even if I'm young, I'm starting to become a burden. Damian took the crate so I'm not even carrying it, at least I have a power like the old man.
"I think we should remain level," Toren suggested, leaving only Ciel yet to voice his opinion.
"We should head down." Ciel finally uttered, turning heads in the process.
"Why? " Toren asked tersely, his eyes narrowing as he observed Ciel closer than ever. His green eyes were like poison as Ciel felt a chill under his gaze but showed nothing.
Old Quin followed up, the same chain that replicated the behavior of a snake appeared behind him. "Why do you want to go deeper?"
As everyone glared at Ciel with daggers in their eyes, his intuition relentlessly urged him to head deeper into the mines. This nagging feeling… I don't know if I can trust it but air is already too thin, in minutes it's going to run out.
He turned directly at old Quin and crossed his arms while nonchalantly pointing at the snake coiling around old Quin's right arm. "Do you think that you are the only one with abilities or what?"
Toren's eyes narrowed as he stared at Ciel a bit differently than before, "Tracker type?"
Man, I don't even know what's going on, why the hell would I know that? "Yes." He answered with a nod.
"Then let's take the middle one." Ciel was dumbfounded by Toren's answer, the same Toren who smashed his face in during their first meeting, for that reason, his nose was still bleeding.
Smaller stones rattled around them as the mines shook, something was coming.
"If we have a tracker amongst us, that changes everything. I change my vote." Said old Quin, showing another chilling smile to Ciel. Well, if we don't then we are just dead anyway. Ciel mocked himself.
The giant just nodded, refraining from speaking further as his face was starting to grow paler from the lack of oxygen.
"If you're wrong, I'll gut you myself before throwing you to the Calamity," Toren mentioned matter-of-factly while making his way first in the group deeper into the mines while Ciel walked beside him with an expressionless face.
Do it if you want, we'll be both dead anyway… I died once. If you follow me this is already a better one than the first.
The tunnels shook again, leaving the others no choice but to pick up a faster pace and rush down after Toren and Ciel.
As their silhouettes vanished into the tunnel, a pitch-black hand emerged from the shadows. Dripping with dark red miasma, it pressed against the ground where the group had stood.
Slowly, it lifted a drop of blood, bringing it closer to itself, inhaling deeply before a low, guttural growl filled the cavern.