You thought it was just going to be another standard mission. You gulped down your beer, slam your butt down in the drop pod, and even read a little article as you waited to plunge into the depths of hell. Your hell or the glyphid’s hell? It’s all up to lady luck, but you show them the terror of your death machine more often than not.

The drop pod lands, and you and your three pals rush out after a brief scan of the surroundings. Two of ‘em are greybeards like yourself, but the other one’s less experienced. No matter, you thought. You’re skilled enough to carry the mission even if your teammates fall.

The biome this time is Fungus Bog. Not a great location, but you prefer every other biome over Hollow Bough any day of the bloody week. Those half-sentient stabbers had been the bane of your existence on your every trip there.

As your group mined Nitra (and a little gold at the side), you all chatted. Though it was a fifth hazard area, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. A dozen dead bugs and three buckets of Nitra, you pressed on. The driller was kind enough to widen the tunnel for your team to pass through, but you see the glint in his eyes. An “accident” was bound to happen, one way or another.

As your team traversed forward, you arrived at an open area with more than a handful of poison-spewing fungus and a puddle of sticky goo. The engineer helpfully covered it up with his platform while you were on fungus-destroying duty. Of course, you didn’t destroy The Special Ones. Oh, the Mission Control was mad as usual as your team religiously chanted “Mushwoom!” to no end.

It was a triple dreadnought mission, so you marked the exact location of the cocoons as your team explored the mission area, mined resources, and eliminated dangers such as cave leeches. Those greasy meatballs met their ends at the hands of the competent scout, who spotted the jet boots tucked in the corner.

Though Mission Control urged your team to clear the dreadnoughts as all three cocoons were on the verge of maturity, you continued to saunter through the vast cave structures. For one, Mission Control was always worried about the dreadnoughts maturing, even though it never happened. For another, clearing out hazards such as Spitballers is as important as everything else. The last thing any team would want was a lethal distraction.

Just as you thought it was about time to wrap up the prepping, you heard Mission Control announcing the imminent landing of lithophage meteors. The others paid no mind to the warning, thinking it wouldn’t be of any issue, but you panicked. Hard. The impact zone was targeted right at the center of the area, and all three cocoons aligned in the same spot but at different elevations. You and Mission Control screamed at your teammates, but it was too late. The meteorites arrived, and all three cocoons were smashed into bits, releasing the nightmares incubating within.

Karl save us. You prayed as you saw giant heat signatures on your map.

The less experienced engineer panicked immediately, asking us what to do. The driller and scout argued, but their bickering proved no use. You took a deep breath, strategies running through your mind, and yelled for everyone to listen. They did immediately.

Rapidly, you barked out orders to each of your teammates. All of you were to escape back to the clearing at the initial drop zone and carve out the environment to facilitate easier dreadnought extermination. The engineer suggested we abandon the mission, but you shot him down. The dreadnoughts might disturb the other teams, and the drop pod would’ve survived the onslaught of three or potentially more dreadnoughts. It was do or die.

Your team rushed back to the landing zone. A regular dreadnought was pursuing your team closely, so the scout and you had to keep it occupied while the driller and engineer worked their magic.

They accomplished their tasks on record time, and you requested they order all the supply drops they could. The scout wanted to use the drops as a weapon, but you told him it was too risky. The availability of the supplies was far more important than the damage it could deal.

The scout lit up the place, and your team began the extermination. At first, things were going well. All of you were only up against one regular dreadnought as the others tried to catch up. Then, it was the twins. The bloody twins, you cursed. More susceptible to damage but difficult to nail down.

Then, just as the engineer was downed, the last dreadnought crashed into the party, literally. Smashed a hole in the wall. It was a hiveguard and its sentinels were bringing in the heat.

The scout and driller were yelling at each other for friendly fire while you used your last shield to heal the engineer. You would’ve weaved a beautiful poem of curses at your feuding teammates, but you were too busy drawing the dreadnoughts' attention from them.

Things were getting grim. Supplies were dwindling, and your teammates, despite getting back up and fighting, were spent. They couldn’t last longer, you could tell. You needed a goddamn miracle to wipe all three dreadnoughts, which were still mostly in top shape.

Lady Luck responded to your call, and a glyphid bulk detonator arrived on the scene.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The engineer paled instantly. The light in the scout’s eyes went out. Any destructive tendencies left in the driller were snuffed out. There was no hope left, they all believed.

However, you refused to give up. There were still supplies, red sugar, and fuel in your jet boots. Your teammates were weakened, yes, but they were still standing. You were still standing. By Karl’s beard, you were going to ensure your team left the planet alive.

You inhaled as deeply as you could and roared, rousing your teammates with a brief speech and proposing you all use the detonator to kill all three dreadnoughts at once. It would be a risky play, but it was the best option your team had at completing the mission.

You reignited the flames in their eyes, and they did as you planned -- bring down the detonator’s health as low as possible, expose all dreadnought’s weakness, and blow them all to kingdom come. The engineer was downed the most, but he also dealt the most damage with his precise use of the grenade launcher.

Minutes pass, and you could see victory on the horizon. The shields on the dreadnoughts were cracked, and the detonator was growing weaker. Supplies had run out, but it didn’t matter, not when salvation was at hand--

You were too careless. The detonator had gotten a little bit too close to you, and you were downed. Your teammates struggled to draw the attention of the glyphids and bring you up because your shield was the only thing that could withstand the explosion of the detonator.

The engineer went down first, then the driller followed. The scout was the only one still alive, his grappling hook firing the instant its cooldown was over. By a hair’s breadth, he brought you up but was blasted into the nearby wall by a dreadnought immediately after. At that moment, you were the only one left.

You kited around the dreadnoughts, damaging all the glyphids bit by bit, hoping to get the timing right. If you fail, then Fungus Bog will be your grave. Dozens of other dwarves might also perish as the dreadnoughts escaped to other locations. You have to succeed. You must.

Unfortunately, your luck was spent, and you were cornered. There was no way out. You’ve spent your last bullet. You could use your grenade, but that would only hasten your end. You press your back against the wall, and Mission Control bids you a somber farewell. You are the best dwarf since Karl this mining rig has ever seen. Rest in peace, he said.

For a moment, you thought about closing your eyes, but you objected to that notion. You were going to stare those glyphid bastards in the eye as they took your life after you slaughtered the whole of them. No remorse filled your chest as you grinned. It was a good run, you thought.

Then, just as the dreadnoughts arrived before you, with the detonator at the back, you saw something at the far back of the room. You could barely make out a figure as the last of the scout’s flare faded.

In a flash, you heard the dreadnoughts’ armor all breaking at the same time. Then, at the corner of your eye, you saw something standing atop the detonator and smashing the orange bastard.

You knew what was to follow in the next five seconds, and you couldn’t afford to be distracted by the mysterious thing.

The first second, you pulled out your shield.

Second second, you threw it to the ground.

Third second, the shield landed before your feet.

In the fourth second, the force field expanded from the core of the shield.

Last second, you gazed upon the dreadnoughts repelling from the shield as the detonator expanded in size in the blink of an eye. Then--

BOOOM!

You watched as the explosion tore through the dreadnoughts like butter, their innards spilling onto your shield and the nearby walls.

It was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your career. A sight that couldn’t possibly be replicated again.

For a minute straight, you thought you went deaf as you were rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by that turn of events. Then, you shifted your sight down and saw your comrades on their last breaths lying at the edges of the newly formed crater.

You tossed your empty minigun away, slapped yourself, and smashed the evac button on Molly. Though you heard Mission Control’s voice, you could neither identify the words he said nor his tone. There was one final task left, and you had to focus.

That day, you exerted your muscles to their maximum capacity and carried your comrades toward the drop pod location, which was in a room next to the initial landing zone. You heard distant rumblings all around you, but you couldn’t care less. There was nothing left to do but drag your teammates into the drop pod.

A hundred meters, seventy meters, fifty, thirty, ten, five, and finally, zero.

You slumped against the gate of the drop pod, which remained close because bloody Molly still hadn’t gotten into the drop pod. Sometimes, you wondered if Mission Control truly gave a damn about you dwarves.

As the glyphids crawled toward you, you pulled out your last fire grenade and tossed it before the ramp. A fiery wall was erected, but it wouldn’t deter the creatures for long.

Then, right before your eyes, you saw a figure, unlike the bugs, jump into the shadow. It was the same entity who saved you earlier, you believed. You tried to shake away your thoughts, believing your bleeding was causing you to hallucinate. However, you couldn’t deny the possibility.

Could that figure really be…?

Suddenly, the gates opened. You widened your eyes, tossed your comrades inside, and leaped into the drop pod just as the shadow and the firewall vanished. The gates slammed shut as the drop pod flew upward. Healing mists were sprayed onto your teammates as you leaned against your seat. Your eyelids grew heavier, but you knew there was one more thing you needed to do before you sleep. One more procedure to accomplish to mark the completion of this mission.

You grabbed your pickaxe, raised it into the air, and shouted three words.

“Rock and stone!”