The tunnel gaped before us—wide, scorched, and still pulsing with heat.
It wasn't just a burrow. It was a path. Something the Dreadscorpius had carved not by instinct, but direction. A trail leading somewhere.
Joy crouched at the entrance, fingers brushing the glazed edge. "Still warm."
Eitan didn't reply. His slate gave no reading—signal cutoff the moment we crossed within five meters. Perception, too, was blurred. Compressed like sound underwater.
A field. Natural or intentional, we didn't know.
What we did know was that the Dreadscorpius had come from here.
And Eitan wasn't about to walk in unprepared.
His arm moved—and the System answered.
A greatsword appeared in his grip—silent, solid, weightless only until it hit. Jet-black steel with narrow golden veins running down the blade's surface, like lightning frozen mid-strike.
For Eitan Velar, a Gold-ranked Explorer, this was the weapon he'd chosen to Bind—a contract made with the System—permanently to his Core. Four Bind slots—one of them taken by this.
A Soulbind.
Only weapons obtained, not a rifle or something crafted with technology, could qualify for Soulbinding. Once a weapon was marked and accepted, it became linked to the user's core. Summonable instantly. Stats enchanced.
Most Explorers only had four Soulbind slots, unless they'd acquired expansion artifacts. Weapons, armor and even beasts could be soulbound.
Other items could still be stored in the System, but only Soulbinds regenerated inside the core—always ready.
And Soulbinds grew stronger the more they were used. As if the System itself encouraged loyalty.
This one was Eitan's mainstay.
Just summoning it changed the air around him.
He tested the weight once. Said nothing.
Then stepped in.
The rest of us followed.
The tunnel sloped slightly downward—just enough to feel it when the light behind us began to die.
Joy kept her rifle ready. Calen checked behind us more than once.
I stayed near the middle. Not guarding. Just observing.
The deeper we went, the more the air changed. Not in temperature, but weight. It pressed differently.
Like we were walking through the last breath of a beast.
Fifty meters in, the walls grew wider. A curve opened ahead, smooth and deliberate.
"Scouting path," Eitan murmured.
The tunnel opened without warning.
One moment, we were walking shoulder-width through the tunnel.
The next—we stepped into a cavern.
Not a natural chamber. The scale was too precise. Too deliberate. The air itself shifted. Pressure dropped, and my hearing dimmed.
The ceiling arched high above, vanishing into shadow. The walls were ribbed with overlapping layers of obsidian, as if the Dreadscorpius hadn't carved it but been guided.
And in the center—
Something stood.
Truly stood.
It had two legs. Two arms. A torso shaped like a man—but that was where the resemblance ended.
Its head was all wrong. Elongated. Beastlike. A segmented, armored skull with no eyes, and a mouth lined with radial teeth—more insect than mammal. Smooth, glistening bone streamed backward from its neck like tendrils, twitching in slow, pulsing rhythm.
It didn't move.
But the air around it did.
Aura compression. Sharp. Layered. Constant.
Eitan's voice cut through the silence.
"High-Severance at the least. Maybe worse."
His grip tightened on the greatsword. The golden veins in the blade flared, reacting like nerves exposed to flame.
All around the figure, the ground shifted.
Dozens of Dreadscorpius.
Smaller than the one we killed. Some adolescent. Some armored in fresh shell. But all of them alive. Moving.
Circling.
Not attacking.
Not guarding.
Obeying.
Joy's voice came low, breath steady. "Still no signal return."
"Mana readings?" Eitan asked.
"Clipped," she replied.
She didn't mean low. She meant suppressed. Deliberately.
The creature knew we were here.
And let us see it.
My gaze stayed locked.
It hadn't twitched.
"Attack," Eitan commanded.
No hesitation.
He launched forward—clean, efficient, no wasted motion.
The figure rose to meet him. No ceremony. One forearm caught the greatsword in a clash of carapace and steel. Sparks burst, air crackled—silent violence.
They didn't speak. They fought.
I moved before the Dreadscorpions fully stirred.
One raised its tail.
I raised my hand.
The Crown surged—magenta fire rippling across the air.
"Brand."
The mark seared into the air—then into chitin.
It burst.
A shriek. One down.
I turned.
Another stepped forward.
I raised my hand—felt drag.
Not yet.
Not enough control. Couldn't Brand multiple targets yet.
Even back-to-back took breath. A pause.
It needed precision.
I dropped low—ducked beneath a swipe, kicked the legs out. It stumbled.
"Brand."
Another burst. Another corpse.
To my right, Joy moved like a machine. No wasted shots. Each burst tore joints and weak points.
Still hadn't used her ability.
Calen froze—then moved.
He summoned a lance of ice. Smooth. Controlled.
Hurled it.
The shard hit a soft point. Not a kill—but enough.
He lifted his hand again.
Steady now.
Eitan staggered back from a kick—short, brutal, direct. The kind that snapped armor plates.
Then he roared.
Not out of pain. Activation.
His ability flared to life—power rolling off him in waves, sharp and golden, seemed like an overall stat increase.
These two—Joy and Calen—could handle the scorpions. Joy was surgical, and Calen… he fought better than expected. Not clean, but learning fast.
That left the thing in the center.
I moved to support the leader.
Flanked it. Opposite Eitan. One front, one back.
We struck at once.
It reacted instantly. Twisting—not human. Its arm caught my strike mid-swing. Not deflected—caught.
It didn't hesitate. Lifted me and hurled me backward—straight into Eitan.
I twisted mid-air to minimize the collision, but we still hit hard, rolling across obsidian.
Came up breathing. Grit in my teeth.
I'd expected better for my first expedition.
Then again—this wasn't exactly first-expedition material.
Didn't matter. My ability would end this.
I flared the Crown. Heat peeled off the ground.
"Brand."
The mark tore into the air, sharp and fast.
It sensed it. Dodged just enough.
But not clean.
The edge kissed its horn.
It snapped off in a flash—clattered across stone.
It turned to look at me. For the first time.
Then it moved. Fast.
It appeared before me—ready to take my head off.
But it let out too much bloodlust.
I felt it. Reacted.
Ember Step.
I vanished in flame—reappeared behind it.
This feeling, the fight, was too familiar. And I enjoyed it.
Eitan read it too. Closed in from the front.
We flanked again.
This time, it would land.
The moment hung—one breath from the end.