1

Far beneath the other levels of the underground city, Faalan and the professor were busy at work in the pentagonal corridor, interpreting the primeval symbols carved upon the walls. Though the dead Hyporean runes were unknown to Faalan, the pair had their ways. Acquiescas would attempt to match the foreign letters with likely methods of pronunciation, based on what he knew, and the Half-Elf would then verify whether this experimentation resulted in any intelligible expressions in the Old Tongue or not. Their partnership proved quite fruitful and allowed them to translate great stretches of the ancient inscriptions while the vault was being opened and emptied.

The summoned champion was only in the way of the logistics, not robust enough to carry heavy metallic objects, and so she was freed from active duty. She took this chance to slip away from the mercenaries’ company and headed back to the depths, with the intention to pick up from where they had been previously interrupted, while there was still time. Waramoti followed along, and they were soon reunited with the research team on the bottom level of the city.

“They got the treasury open,” Izumi reported to them.

“Oh, they did? How nice, nice,” Acquiescas replied, barely listening, not taking his eyes off the carvings, tracing their lines with his finger.

“There were mountains of gold inside,” she said.

“Oh, were there?” the old man muttered. “That’s nice, very…very nice.”

“And rubies the size of griffin’s eggs!” Waramoti added.

“Oh, really?” the scholar said. “How very nice. Nice indeed. Faalan, would you show the light? Yes, that’s good, thank you.”

“You probably have enough money to buy your whole university now,” Izumi told the professor. “Or build a new one from scratch.”

“I do? That’s...quite nice,” Acquiescas mouthed, before turning to Faalan again. “Hey, does this make sense to you: ‘de horóin tesumeté’, or should it be ‘de herúin’?”

“Depends on whether the topic is about bringing ruination, or milking cows,” the warrior answered, holding up a lantern.

“Ah, he is hopeless,” Waramoti shrugged, giving up. It appeared that Acquiescas had been sincere when he’d insisted to value knowledge over earthly wealth.

“And, by the way, no ancient weapons,” Izumi answered Faalan’s questioning look. “Which you seem to have already guessed.”

“Wealth never comes without temptations,” the man replied. “Add power to it, and you will have the motive and the means in the same place. I doubt anyone alive could claim to be immune to such a lure, which makes it extremely unlikely to be presented.”

“So, I take it our mission is not over yet?” she asked.

“Naturally,” Faalan nodded. “Gold was ever only a pretext to Gronan. He will have a harder time justifying it to the others now, but he will not leave Eylia of his own volition until he holds the weapon in his hands, or it is destroyed.”

“Figures,” Izumi sighed. “And I think we already know where to head next.”

Ahead, through the barrel-like corridor, were visible the distant lights of the dark pyramid, like twinkling stars amid cosmic blackness.

“I went to have a closer look a short while ago,” Faalan told the woman. “The entrance to the temple is barred by a door made of some strange metal, without keyholes, handles, or other obvious mechanisms. It reminds me of the magic doors I saw in my time in Alderia. I cannot even begin to guess how to operate it, but I reckon your...adventurer insight might serve us better.”

“Well, no rest for the righteous,” Izumi said, lightly punching her palm. “Better get to it now while we’ve the opportunity.”

They glanced at the professor, who kept reading the inscriptions with borderline manic fervor, mumbling quietly to himself.

“Find anything fabulous yet?” Waramoti asked him.

“Oh yes,” the scholar responded. “This is most fascinating! I believe the contents of this would appeal even to a youngster such as yourself. This here is a warning!”

“A warning…?” Izumi echoed, tilting her head. “To who?”

“To us!” the professor said, giving Izumi a look. “To future people. Written nearly thirty thousand years ago, at the beginning of the Age of the Covenant, by the people who lived here at the time.”

“A warning against what?” she asked. “The daemons?”

“Oh no, this all far older than any known mention of such things! This is direct continuation to the Creation Myth described on the floors above. Yet, I have never seen this particular segment written or mentioned anywhere else before now. Listen! It goes like this...”

The scholar moved to the beginning of the inscription and began to read aloud what he had translated. And it was suddenly as though through the old man’s voice, Izumi could hear the voice of someone else carry across the eons, speaking of terrible secrets.

These are the words of Solos, the High Priest of Geltsemanhe, as spoken to him by the God himself when the World was still young. May they be preserved forever, and not be forgotten, lest all the Creation should come to its end.

Beware, son of man, for the brightest of lights cast the darkest of shadows!

When the days were young, and Gods still walked the earth,

There came to them he, who shall not be named, the Ultimate of the Sun.

Bearing with him gifts of untold wisdom and knowledge of the arcane,

He won the favor of the Pantheon and became as one of them,

And all of Creation was allowed to bask in the blaze of heavenly glory.

Cursed be the Betrayer! Empty were the promises and corrupt the gifts.

The brilliance masked deception, and his true nature as the Sovereign of Evil.

To his faithful he gave the sword, and to those who opposed him, death.

The consuming fires of a war unprecedented washed over the World.

And God fought against God, and the created amongst themselves,

And all things beautiful that they’d made were reduced to ruin.

At last, deserted by his allies, was the Betrayer bested,

And cast back onto the star of his ancient making,

Never to return, while the age of the World should last.

Alas, the extent of his treason ran deeper than the scars.

Into the World had the villain unleashed his wretched Beast,

The accursed Winged Serpent, whose true name is QTZ L CTL.

And the Serpent’s venom made the Light of Creation run foul,

So that all who drank of the Light were inflicted with the Shadow of Death,

And would pass onto madness and wrath, were they Men or Gods.

Bound to the life of the planet, bearing the might of its stellar master,

The Beast could not be slain, lest the Creation itself should fall,

And with its each breath was the Darkness to spread, until all’s ultimate end.

But the Gods took the beast and smote it to pieces,

Sealing its Heart beyond the everlasting Wall of Light,

And upon the Pillars of Heaven was raised its living tomb.

To hold the toxin of the nemesis at bay,

The Gods withdrew from the boundaries of the World,

And bequeathed onto their followers the task never-ending.

By the power of the Covenant must the World be wiped clean,

the poison of the Deceiver drawn, and his Beast kept entombed,

Or all who now live shall join the dead.

Acquiescas ended his recital, giving way to a stunned silence.

“Well,” Waramoti then broke the spell. “Maybe I’m the only one, but I can safely admit I understood none of that just now.”

“This, my friends,” the scholar explained, “is one of the very few existing descriptions of the War of the Gods, and what should come to pass, unless the ritual to uphold the Covenant is carried out. It is a call, for the reader, to take action and keep the memory alive. See, here is mentioned ‘Heaven’s Pillar’, which is another term used in the ancient texts for the Trophaeum, the mythical tower in the mountains of Ukulu, whereupon the sacred ritual is to be performed, once every thousand years. The inscription appears to imply that there were multiple towers once—even though we only know of one—and their purpose was to safeguard our planet against the corruptive, alien influence of the ancient adversary of the Gods. This greatly augments the commonly known version of the myth, elaborating on the reasons behind the war! It is breathtaking! An absolutely remarkable discovery! I don’t have the words to describe how much this means to the archaeological community! Although, the text has not survived the turmoils of time entirely intact. ‘He who shall not be named’—the enemy of the Gods, his name has been chiseled off wherever it has been mentioned in the older texts. Which is a shame.”

“And what was that about the serpent or whatnot?” Waramoti asked. “I’m not hugely fond of snakes.”

“Ah, yes, the monstrous follower of the godly foe,” the scholar nodded. “This is a most curious point, actually. I have seen no mention of a ‘winged serpent’ before in any mythological context. It is likely a symbol of some spiritual entity—but which of the ancient figures it refers to is still a mystery to me. According to the inscription, the Covenant’s purpose was not merely to give new life to world, as is commonly believed, but to keep sealed this being, this...QTZ-L-CTL.”

“...Quetzalcoatl?” Izumi repeated, tilting her head. “Is that how you pronounce it?”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Acquiescas scratched his head. “I have never seen these runes written before in this exact form, so I can only guess their reading by the writing style.”

“’Kesshál coh zéul’ in the Old Tongue translates roughly as ‘harbinger of calamity’,” Faalan commented. “So I believe your interpretation is close enough to the truth.”

“Well, it fits,” Izumi said. “I’ve heard a legend like that, where I’m from. About a feathered serpent god by the same name. But, I don’t think it’s ever been depicted as particularly evil, as far as I know. On the contrary. Maybe they’re not similar deities, after all?”

“No surprise! Wouldn’t it be a tad too amazing for the same entity to appear on two entirely different plane—places,” Waramoti commented, almost slipping up.

“This sealed, world-ending thing,” Izumi continued. “It’s not down here, is it?”

Acquiescas laughed brightly at her concerns.

“Why, it’s only a myth!” he said. “Don’t tell me you took it all literally? My lady, even if we assume the Gods were real once—quite the assumption, mind you!—it’s been thirty millennia since they departed and these texts were written. And we’re all still here, yes? Hale and whole, monsters and poisons notwithstanding. There may be a tower somewhere far away at the ends of the earth, perhaps, and even a ritual which the ancient folk have performed—but don’t you find it simply incredible as an idea, that they’ve diligently carried out this performance every thousand years, exactly, without missing it even once? For thirty-three consecutive times? Each race out there would choose a champion and send them to the tower, on the very same day at the end of the millennium, to save the world together? I mean, it is very romantic, as an idea—but practically unfeasible! No, I think not. The fate of our planet would be in extremely precarious holders, if that were the case. As a scientist, I should like to see more evidence before I am to believe such things. Old stories are almost always metaphorical, you see, meant to teach us about morals and values essential to our survival.”

“Right...”

“This is, above all, a story promoting the importance of co-operation, the strength that lies in unity!” Acquiescas explained. “The Gods themselves could only beat their mighty foe by joining forces, and the races of this world may only keep on living by working together for the common good. Beautiful, isn’t it? Brings a tear to my eye! It is certainly a story that hasn’t lost its relevance over the eons, and should be heard in all the corners of the earth.”

“It is a nice story, but I have to wonder if that’s all it is…” Izumi turned and looked again at the distant pyramid. “The proof you’re looking for might be right there. Back where I’m from, they would build those for tombs.”

They all now gazed with unease at the shadowy triangle and its cold, steady lights.

Perhaps it was better left be, after all? Perhaps there were yet worse things awaiting inside, god-like threats that exceeded the understanding of mortals, and were never meant to see the light of day again.

“Haha! Tombs and curses!” Acquiescas was the one to interrupt the silent moment this time. He laughed at their tense expressions and then changed the topic. “It must be getting late now, my friends! I wonder if our cooks are done with dinner preparations yet? I sure wouldn’t mind a hearty meal after all this brain work!”

“Now that you said it…” Waramoti agreed, holding his stomach with a mournful expression. “All these stairs burn calories like crazy.”

Izumi glanced at Faalan and nodded. Whatever was stored inside the pyramid, it would be opened, either by their hands, or those of Gronan. Therefore, it happening on their terms was surely the best case scenario.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead?” she suggested to the scholar and the bard. “We’ll catch up in a moment after—”

Ween——!

Izumi’s plans were interrupted by a sharp sound coming from the linkstone. The devices had gone with fairly little use today, as the others were occupied with the vault, so everyone fell now quiet and listened. Was it the much-anticipated call for dinner?

Not this time. Shortly, Marcus’s familiar voice filled their ears. Now there was a distinct, uncharacteristic tension to be perceived in his speech.

“To all teams...Gather back up at the Capitol, as soon as you can make it,” he requested.

“We have a situation.”

2

Sometime after, thirty grim faces stood in the Capitol hall, staring at the floor. Most of those thirty had great difficulty coping with the outrageous news, and indeed, who could fault them?

The daemon statue had vanished without a trace from the chamber along the tunnel to the subterranean levels. Instead, the corpses of Vikland, Orik, and Tordith were found therein. Looking at the watchmen’s injuries, it appeared that a fight had broken out among them, resulting in the deaths of Vikland and Orik. But Tordith’s wounds were different, disproving the idea that the tragedy was caused by simple gambling debts. It was still slightly unclear how he had been killed, technically, but the gaping, fist-sized hole in the middle of his chest likely had to do with it. Piercing through the ring mail shirt he wore would have required a particularly sharp and sturdy tool, a good deal of raw power behind it. And nobody carried weapons that would leave such a wound.

As hard as they wanted to deny the most obvious explanation, the circumstances left very little room for alternative theories. The idea that someone had slain their own comrades, then to carry off the large statue, all just to set up a twisted practical joke—was too absurd to even propose. What would be the motive? What would anyone gain by doing such a terrible deed? The cooking team and the book-keepers on the surface vowed they knew nothing of the incident, and everyone else had a solid alibi, as well as multiple witnesses to vouch for their innocence. Either a highly influential conspiracy was in the works, or else what Izumi had warned them about had come true.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How?

None could explain it, yet the reality of the situation stood now outside the reach of denial.

Therefore, after the bodies were carried away and buried, everyone gathered back in the Capitol hall, where Gronan Arkentahl directed a bitter question to the one among them, who had showcased prior knowledge of what they were dealing with.

To Itaka Izumi.

“—Tell me everything you know about this thing.”

Izumi exhaled a heavy sigh, standing in the circle under everyone’s keen stares. Now if ever would have been a fitting moment to say, ‘what did I tell you!’ but she didn’t feel like it. Who would’ve ever wanted to be proved right, under such conditions? Instead, the summoned woman gathered her thoughts for a moment, trying to distill what she knew into the most succinct, relevant facts.

“They’re shapeshifters,” she then began her explanation. “That means, it can assume the appearance of anyone it’s previously seen, and act and talk like they would. Which is why we should only move in groups from hereon, and assume that anyone going alone is the enemy.”

“Anyone?” Tidaal repeated. “It can’t look like Hrugnaw, can it?”

Everyone glanced at the great crulean, who let out a dumbfounded grunt in response.

“Anyone,” Izumi repeated. “It can turn bigger or smaller at will, but even if it looks human, it’ll be just as tough as in its own form. But the mimicry might not always be flawless. It needs time to analyze our looks, I suppose. There might be something off about the transformation if it’s rushed, like some body part missing, or not looking quite right, and you may be able to identify it like that. Then again, we’ve been passing right under its nose for two days, and it has probably done its homework by now.”

“You don’t suppose it could look like an above-average human female with big dang udders?” Tidaal asked. “Like, for example. If it wanted to.”

“Hearing that from someone else, I realize just how stupid it sounds...” Izumi replied with a listless stare.

“Just tell me one thing: how do you kill it?” Miklas asked, impatiently clutching his giant hammer.

“Uuh, I don’t know,” Izumi answered.

“You don’t know?” Marcus raised a brow.

“Why, I’ve never killed one before,” she said. “Their skin is hard as steel, regular weapons won’t leave a mark on it. Mine might be the only one that can. And even if you manage to wound it, it can simply remake its shape to undo any damage. They’re a bit weak to fire, but a simple torch flame isn’t going to kill it—”

“—So it’s, what, immortal?” Elvir interrupted her.

Izumi wasn’t sure how to answer. Certainly, by what she had seen and heard, these creatures seemed nothing short of invincible.

“Decapitation,” Faalan suddenly spoke up, stepping forward. “You must sever its head. Either that, or inflict damage upon it faster than it can restore. Those are the only options I know of—that the emiri knew of.”

“So chop the neck,” Marcus summarized. “Simple enough, that’ll kill anything. Except larker worms.”

“Excuse me, do crossbows work?” Aft raised his hand and inquired. “Our mechanical arbalests pack up enough kinetic potential to pierce steel. What if you shoot it in the head? Will that do the job?”

“Um, maybe?” Izumi pondered, unsure. “Depends on where you hit, I guess? I’m fairly sure they have a brain like anybody else. Though you’d have to be a pretty good shot. It can move faster than regular arrows, so aiming might be a challenge. Oh, and it can also warp short distances. You should watch your back if you ever see smoke floating about. They like to take cheap shots.”

“Warp?”

“Smoke?”

The audience made perplexed faces at the explanation.

“Ah, yes! And also, don’t let it ever touch you,” Izumi continued. “They sport this unpleasant curse, you see? In case it hits you and you don’t immediately die, there’s a chance that you’ll turn into another daemon yourself. And we’ll probably have to kill you before that happens, just to make sure.”

“You’ve got to be making this up!” Gubal exclaimed.

“We waste our time talking about this,” Tuberkan interjected. “The door was open. The beast is long gone. We freed it from its prison, and it won’t look back again. I am sorry for the deceased, but we should get back to moving the treasure while we still have light left.”

“It’s not a bird or a fox,” Izumi retorted. “Freedom isn’t what it cares about. It’s murder. It’s still here and it’s not going to leave us. It’ll keep toying with us until there’s no one left standing. Until we kill it, or it kills us.”

“No animal does that,” Tuberkan told her. “It’s wasteful behavior, the risks unnecessary.”

“It’s not an animal,” she pointed out. “It’s a daemon.”

No one commented aloud, but by the low mumbles, whispers, and dubious glances, it seemed that the audience was still not quite convinced of Izumi’s authority in the matter.

Then, Gronan interrupted the chatter, stepping forward. He had remained mostly quiet so far, and his countenance resembled even more a storm cloud than usual, so that people could practically see lightning crackling about his brow, and all fell quiet, straightening their postures.

“It won’t leave us, she says,” the man spoke, gazing sternly around at the circle of people. “And I say: good! Neither will I leave it be, until it has paid for what it’s done to my clansmen! Let’s hunt that fucker down!”

“—YEAAAAAHHHH!” Finally hearing language they could understand, the mercenaries raised a thundering war cry, shaking their weapons in the air.

“Ah, here we go,” Izumi sighed yet again, wiping her face.

3

The expedition crew was divided into squads of four or five, seven teams in total. Each squad had at least two men with arbalests, and the rest armed for close combat. Their plan was simple: to sweep through the underground city, layer by layer, track down the monster, corner it, and put a violent end to it. No one could be left out, for their own protection, and so even the cooks, the appraisers, the professor, and the bard had to join the hunt. Although, Acquiescas was the only one among them who was genuinely clueless regarding bloodshed. All the Dharves had at least basic combat training, regardless of their occupation, and great familiarity with ranged weaponry.

Done with their preparations, the crew descended back to the depths, and parted ways at the grand well.

Marcus took charge of the western side, four squads with him, and Gronan of the east with the rest. To Izumi’s chagrin, Faalan was put in the west group, leading a team of his own, while she was sent in the opposing direction. The saber for which the Empire’s hero was named was forged not only of silver, but its blade was reinforced with an orichalcum coating. It couldn’t rival the Amygla’s durability, but the saber’s great hardness and sharpness made it likely effective even against daemon hide, and putting two such assets on the same side would’ve been inefficient. But though the argument was sound, it made Izumi’s job of protecting the man that much harder. She was put in a team with Gubal, Weller, Till, and Waramoti, backing up Gronan’s lead team at their eight o’clock, a stone’s throw away.

In such loose formations, the teams proceeded through the subterranean city.

The linkstones proved invaluable in this hunt.

“This is Marcus,” the west side leader reported after a quarter of an hour had passed. “We’re at the greenhouses. No sign of the bogey yet.”

“I hear you,” Gronan responded. “No sign of it on the tater fields either. Keep going. Check the store rooms, then make for the northern stairs. Wait for us there.”

"Got it.”

The east side teams waded quietly through the extensive potato fields, the plants’ dark green leaves brushing their knees.

“Izumi,” Waramoti called out from behind. “Not to sound like a pessimist, but what are the chances that we’ll actually catch the thing like this?”

“We won’t,” she replied outright. “That shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Gubal asked her, following a few steps behind, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the lantern’s light.

“It’s got the home field advantage,” Izumi explained. “It probably knows areas and passages here we haven’t even discovered yet. We’re not going to trap it with so few of us, but it will know exactly where to hit us.”

“What is it waiting for then?”

“It won’t come out here in the open, not because it’s scared of us, but because it'd be too easy,” she replied. “Too boring. Killing is like a ritual to these things. What it wants is clean, stylish kills, not a mindless brawl. It wants to take our terror and despair to the max. So it’ll set up a suitable stage, then to take us down, one by one.”

“You seem terribly familiar with how this thing thinks,” the Estuan replied with a hint of disgust. “As if you knew its very mind.”

“Eh…”

Gubal’s sharp remark left Izumi without a comeback.

...Come to think of it, it’s too weird. I can almost feel it. Where it goes, what it means. Why does it seem so close to me? Because I’ve met its kind before? Because I nearly turned into one myself? Or because we’re both “players”?

It was as if there was only a hair-thin, transparent film separating Izumi’s mind and the foreign sentience operating the unfeeling creature in the shadows. She shuddered and forced her attention back to her immediate surroundings.

“Everything looks clear,” Tuberkan reported, leading his team near the very eastern limit of the floor. “I have seen no footprints around, save our own.”

“—We got something,” Marcus unexpectedly checked in again. “A bit of bad news.”

“What is it?” Gronan’s voice asked.

“The synthesizer, it’s been destroyed. Someone’s done a number on it. No sign of the culprit, though.”

“Cunning bastard,” Weller grunted. “Let’s hope our supplies on the surface are better kept. I don't live on veggies.”

“It’s not quite that smart,” Izumi said. “It hasn’t been to the surface or seen our camp. And it can’t infer the existence of something it hasn’t directly observed. I think.”

“Sure, whatever you say...” Weller replied, rolling his eyes.

“Izumi?” the bard asked with some caution. “Is everything all right?”

“Geez, get off my case!”

As Izumi had predicted, they wouldn’t meet the daemon on the first layer. The teams went through the farms and gardens, checked the greenhouses and storage rooms, made sure every door was shut that could be, and then proceeded down the stairs to the level below.

Going through the residential districts was less straightforward.

The cubic clusters of stone houses jutted out of the floor and the walls like coral reef, a maze of stairs and narrow alleys woven between them. It would’ve been too time-consuming to search through all of the dozens upon dozens of apartments, and secluded backyards. The task would've required many times more hunters and several days. The teams merely passed through the more prominent areas and surveyed the houses from outside in the range of their lamps, trying to spot any suspicious movement—which, in this case, would’ve been any movement at all.

The empty window holes and open doorways devoured their lights like countless gaping mouths and empty eye sockets, stilled in a dying scream, reflecting back nothing.

The sun had set outside. There was no more natural light available to aid in the search, but neither could they call it off and camp for the night. With the gate permanently open, the creature could freely move in and out between the cities, and there was no saying what it would do while they slept. Although, so far only Izumi appeared to hold the beast a genuine threat to the expedition as a whole. The others considered the daemon more or less as an ugly bear, and the adventurer’s account but a wild mix of embellished anecdotes and very few facts, as was the tendency of women.

But upon the second layer as well, their prey continued to elude them. In a bit over two hours, they had surveyed most of the major areas, regrouping back on the northern side of the well, and all reported to have seen or heard nothing at all.

Had the mark slipped through their net to get behind them? The possibility couldn’t be fully denied. The hunters camped by the northern stairway for another half an hour and waited to see if it wouldn’t attempt an ambush from the rear.

But nothing happened.

The peace of the underground city was undisturbed.

“So it won’t dare show itself when there’s a real fight to be had.” Gronan was beginning to lose his patience. “The coward!”

“It’s waiting for us,” Izumi forced herself to speak up, too restless to keep waiting. “Somewhere down below.”

The creature’s presence was fuzzy, nothing but a vague, cold shadow in the back of her mind, but she was confident it remained yet distant. No one else commented on her paranormal observation. Gronan gave the woman a severe look, as if to say this wasn’t the time for jests, but seeing that she wasn’t making it up, he urged the company to move again.

They descended down to the third layer, where the process of search was repeated.

The houses here were larger, wider apart, and better secured with walls and fences, so that the search was somewhat easier and speedier than before. Nothing could escape sight on top of bare, level rock, yet it appeared their mark was doing just that. By the time they met again at the main stairway, a couple of more hours had passed and they could only repeat the same fruitless reports.

“Well?” Gronan inquired Izumi in annoyance. He had to have been at his wit's end, to even depend on her counsel. But here the summoned champion had to admit the limits of her strange, conditional telepathy.

“I think it’s closer than before, but I couldn’t tell you exactly where,” she said. “The closer we get, the more its presence is overshadowed by our own.”

“What are you talking about?” Even Yubilea was skeptical about the woman’s report. “I don’t sense anything at all!”

“Shush,” Izumi whispered to the spirit.

“Damn it,” Gronan mumbled, wiping his beard.

They had skilled hunters like Tuberkan, Weller, and Taun among them, but none could claim to have a good plan for putting this deceitful foe in check, not without any leads. Taun’s dog exhibited no worthwhile daemon-seeker qualities either, running around his master’s feet, excitedly panting and barking, wondering why everyone was behaving so mysteriously, seemingly taking this all merely for a thrilling new game of sorts.

“Stupid dog!” Taun berated his partner. “Look! It’s that ugly statue we’re looking for! Remember? The one that scared you shitless! Go find it! Go! Come on, boy! You can do it! ...Aw, rats! You may be a genius when it comes to hares, but you’re one terrible monster hunter!”

Deciding how to proceed from here was not so simple.

There was the main stairway down to the vault hall, which was easy enough to cover, but there were also two additional passages around the level, each leading to areas in different directions. Should they prioritize the industrial district in their search, or the lower depths? Both were highly challenging locations, due to both their scale and the explorers’ limited knowledge of them.

“Oh, if I may?” Aft unexpectedly stepped up.

“What is it?” Gronan turned to him.

“There’s a set of service tunnels between the third layer and the industrial district,” the young engineer explained. “They’re nothing short of ideal for hiding, even from a larger group of people, and allow quick access to the surrounding areas. If I were the monster, that’s definitely where I’d go, if I didn’t want anybody to find me. But if we play this right, that’s also where we might be able to corner it. As far as I can tell, there’s only a handful of ways in and out of there. If we cover all the exists…”

“—Then we can smoke it out like a fox and put it out of its misery,” Gronan caught on. “Good thinking!”

“I’ve actually got a map,” Till said, rummaging through his bag. “We found one at the refinery. Had Vil draw me a copy, just in case. I have it right here.”

The man took out a paper scroll, which he spread open onto the ground. Everyone gathered to have a closer look, squatting on the pavement like a band of juvenile delinquents planning a raid on a shopping mall.

The paper contained a technical map, filled to the limit with convoluted pencil lines and markings, of which Izumi couldn’t claim to make heads or tails. The Dharves, however, were better equipped for the task. Represented in the scribble was a complex network of tunnels and associated shafts, which had likely been used to deliver materials and supplies between the industrial quarters and the above levels. There was even a peculiar emergency lighting system installed, with its own generator, and it could be quite helpful in locating the target, provided that this was where it was hiding.

“See here, only three entrances,” Marcus said, pointing at the layout. “A major one on the industrial district side there, the smaller side entrance near where we are, and then this one lesser passage, which connects with the stairway.”

“We can use this,” Gronan nodded. “I want three teams on the main entrance in the northeast, two on the central stairway to block both ends, and one on the side exit. The remaining team takes the point, enters the tunnels, and chases that bastard out to where the others are waiting.”

—“That team’s dead,” Izumi felt obligated to point out the critical flaw in the plan.

Thirty pairs of eyes looked slowly up at her.

It was a bit unsettling view in the lamp light.

Gronan stood and stepped over the map to the woman, the others discreetly making way. He inhaled deep, as if struggling to hold his temper, while the mercenaries were grimacing and looked away.

“In that case, you should be glad to know you will not be joining them,” he finally told the woman, exhibiting commendable self-restraint, and stopped in front of her.

“I’m trying to help you guys here!” Izumi said, unable to hold her laughter, seeing things fall apart in the worst ways imaginable.

“Then have you suddenly thought of a better plan?” he asked.

“No, but I’m—”

“—Ms Adventurer,” Gronan interrupted her. “If I have any more need for your opinion…I shall be sure to let you know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Izumi shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

Gronan turned away from her, facing instead the band of mercenaries still squatting on the ground and shouted in his powerful voice,

“All those of you who are scared of this ‘daemon’, and wish to run off wailing back to your mothers, your tail between your legs, like the worthless dogs you are, STAND UP! Stand! So that I may send you packing and spare you from this horrible fate that awaits you!”

Then, he waited, surveying the crowd, looking at each man—and crulean—in the eye. And not one of them stood, wavered, or even blinked.

“Now,” he continued in a more subdued voice, “all those of you who wish to go back home as men, without regretting a thing...stand.”

One by one, without a word, all thirty stood.