Two days went by before Earon could stomach the idea of trying to eat one of the fiendish bats he had killed. But nothing else was on offer.

He had found himself in a cavern filled with the little beasts and had killed a dozen or so over the passing week.

Thankfully, hydration hadn't been such a stomach-curdling experience, and he had found an underwater spring. Not only that, but the water flowing from it was as fresh and clear as he had ever tasted.

The meat, on the other hand, never got any better. He had eaten it raw, only washing it under the flowing spring water before clamping his nose and biting down. It didn’t help.

Strength was needed though, and Earon hadn't given up hope of surviving the ordeal.

He wasn't just surviving for himself. He wanted to find the others, wanted to know the Witch Hunters were still alive. Wanted to believe the aid he had provided by attacking the shamans had been of some assistance.

Being stuck down in the dark caverns did come with some benefits. And within that week he had already gained 3 points in Dark Sight and was now well and truly convinced that it was related to the Scarworld. With this improvement, Earon was now able to see faint outlines. His vision still wasn’t good enough to direct himself through the dark in any meaningful way, but it was a decent improvement from nothing.

If nothing else, Earon figured if he was able to survive long enough, he might be able to level the skill up enough to find his way out. Not that he particularly liked that idea, since it probably meant another couple of weeks surviving the cave, but at least he had a backup plan.

Another week passed, and Earon’s survival, polearms, tracking, stealth, dark sight, and survivalist had all increased. It seemed being only level 7 and surviving in the Scarworld had some benefits. It almost made up his hopeless situation, though Earon would trade places in an instant if it meant returning to the surface.

Not only that, but his rock-throwing had unlocked the, "throwing" skill.

By the third week, Earon had reached level 8, turning hunting bats into an art form. On top of that, but he had again increased his throwing skill, bringing it to level 5. In fact, he had become almost as good at taking the bats down by hurling his spear as he was wielding it in melee.

Warlock – Level 8

***Skills & Abilities***

Polearms (10)

Navigator (4)

Arcane knowledge (2)

Rune Crafting (Body Transmutation) (2)

Mana Sense (3)

Riding(2)

Survivalist(2)

Block(5)

Resistance(2)

Physical Resistance(2)

Brawling(2)

Tracking(2)

Dark Sight(5)

Stealth(2)

Throwing(5)

***Spells***

Magic resistance (7)

If he ever managed to escape this place, Earon had decided to invest in javelins or throwing spears to round out his combat abilities. Having a ranged attack option was helpful, after all.

During his third week, he noticed a small hole piercing through the rock that blocked the previous passage. It was just above his head and so it was of little surprise that he missed it. Even with his improved sight, he still barely noticed it. Without climbing the wall and fiddling around with his hands, it would have been impossible - prior to increasing his dark sight.

Balancing atop the rock, Earon pulled himself up and squeezed his arms through. It was tight, and any bare skin that rubbed against the rock would no doubt tear. But he didn't see any other options and continued to wiggle through the opening.

He was higher than he wanted to be and he swivelled around for a moment as he tried to grab hold of something to ease himself down. But the moment he inched his legs out, he lost grip and tumbled down the rocky surface below.

"Oww," Earon groaned as he lay on his back and massaged his bruised body.

Easing to his feet, he looked around. The rocky cavern on the other side looked much the same as where he had come from.

"What was I expecting."

However, as Earon walked he realized that at least this side of the cavern was far bigger, and it continued for miles as he walked. Cavern passages winded around bottomless drops and spiraled solid rock. Sometimes he even walked across rock that had been carved into stairs, but it was never consistent, and hints of civilization regularly disappeared as natural rock took over.

At first, Earon had wanted to follow the stairs and occasional bridges he found, in the hope that it would lead to civilization, as poorly advised as that might be within the Scarworld. But it always ended the same, with indiscernible caverns that showed no signs of ever supporting intelligent life.

Not that it deterred him, and he continued through caverns of cool, blue light, then through sections that lay completely dark and into others of luminescent, shimmering purple.

He ate a ration of bat and slept. Then, he continued.

Several hours into the next day of travel, Earon found himself overlooking an abyssal ravine, with a partially collapsed cavern on the other side. It was far from where he had first been, but he recognized the seemingly endless formation of rock. The dwarven army had been over there, Earon noted with a nod.

If only he could get across the ravine, maybe he could find a trail. With enough care, he might even be able to use one of the scars used by monsters to reach the surface.

Skirting up and down the section of the ravine exposed to him, Earon went in search of a means to cross it. After an hour he found a narrow ledge that spiraled out just far enough that Earon thought he might be able to jump. However, just as he prepared to dive across the ravine, two enormous flying beasts flew past - horns lined their heads and wings, whilst their long, thin tails thrashed menacingly through the air.

Earon froze beneath the shadow as they passed.

Letting out a deep breath, Earon peered forward to look down the ravine. His heart pounded and he narrowed his eyes.

He had found himself in a rather deserted section of the Scarworld, and this had been an important reminder that it was the home of monsters.

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"Don't get comfortable," he muttered and shook his head.

Maybe jumping across the ravine and into the massive chamber beyond would lead him out of the underground. But it might also lead him into far more terrifying monsters than he could ever imagine. And dying wouldn't achieve anything.

Earon took a step back, and then another before turning back into the cavern behind him.

At least it seemed fairly safe on this side and he hadn't explored all options. If nothing came of it, then he could risk jumping across the ravine.

Another day went by whilst Earon climbed across the caverns and tunnels, causing his supply of bat meat to run dry. It would take at least another day to travel back to the bat cave, he estimated, and if he didn’t find a new food source soon, he might have to.

The rock was smoother here and in some places even square. Like it had been cut into neat lines, and the further Earon walked, the more artificial everything appeared.

Brow raised; he studied the sharp edges. Earon had never been a craftsman, but with his farmer skillset, he might have been able to deduce something. Unfortunately, that seemed like an entire lifetime ago. When he looked at the rock now, all he saw were straight lines.

He could be walking into some kind of intelligent monster’s trap or maybe a settlement, but since he had yet to meet any danger, Earon decided to risk it.

A warming glow soon emanated from beyond, but not because of Earon’s ability, rather this was a light source.

With trepidation, he slowly continued.

Orange warmth soon glowed in all directions, and the soothing light reflected off of the perfectly straight, rock walls and cast his shadow across them.

Through the next corridor, the cavern opened up into a massive chamber. Lining the edges of the flat, stone path Earon walked, were streams of magma.

“The light,” Earon mouthed as his eyes filled with color and he watched the captivating rivers streaming through the cavern down dozens of paths.

The stalactites were gone, and hard, charcoal ceilings replaced them, which already towered several meters above Earon's head. As he followed the streams of magma, the ceiling only grew higher, within minutes, Earon couldn’t even see the ceiling any longer; even with his improved vision and the magma’s warm glow, the ceiling above had disappeared into the darkness.

The meandering rivers were soon joined by others, and by the time Earon could see something ahead of himself, dozens of molten streams snaked across the cavern, creating a patchwork of magma and rock.

In the distance, Earon could see a wall of rock, marking the cavern end, but as he got closer, he realized it was far more than that. Towering iron gates were cut straight from stone and climbed up as far as he could see, disappearing into shadow. They had to be at least hundreds of feet tall and were covered in some kind of runes he had never seen.

His "arcane knowledge" ability snapped into action, but it was only able to produce a fumbled, unintelligible mess of meaningless sensations within Earon. There was something else, he knew. This was the work of magic. The faintest red dots glowed across the runes, almost mistakable for the glow from the magma, if not for Earon spotting their hazy shapes beyond the shadow above.

He might barely be considered a caster, but even Earon knew that whoever crafted this thing was beyond powerful.

A grinding rustle of rocks perked his ears, and he looked across with perplexity as pebbles began to roll down from a small pile of rocks, only a few meters away.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed.

Soon larger pebbles and rocks were rolling along with their little brethren, bouncing atop one another as they formed a pile that gradually grew larger.

Earon tilted his head as the pile began to glow red.

Bigger rocks and small boulders then followed some carried atop smaller rocks as they climbed the pile. Shoulders and then arms, a neck followed by a head, and then the figure bounced and legs took shape below it. A moment later, red dots glowed into existence atop its head and the animated rock seemed to stretch and jerk to life.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Earon took a step backward.

"Hello?"

The rock, or rather golem seemed to be staring directly at Earon, and a second later it took its first thunderous stomps toward him.

Hesitating for only a second, Earon turned and ran.

The living rock was more than twice his height, and despite its clunky movement, its huge legs carried itself far quicker than Earon, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he knew there was no outrunning the giant golem that strode after him.

Left.

Earon bounded over a meter-thick stream of magma, then another, skipping between outcropped rocks and stumbling through a maze of craggy edges as he made his way in a controlled fall across the remaining rock and magma. He fell and rolled, then bounced to his feet and leaped over another cropping of stone.

The golem on the other hand simply stepped over the hazards.

It was closing in on him, but the goal was in sight. Earon dropped and skidded across the ground, using his momentum to send himself sliding into a narrow cleft against the rock wall.

It hadn’t been smooth and Earon groaned in pain as he came to a thumping stop against the rock. But the golem was out there, and he was in here.

It was immediately obvious that the magical structure couldn’t reach him, as its boulder-like hands were wider than the largest section of the cleft. But that didn’t seem to concern the indifferent golem, who just stood there expressionless and unmoving.

Yeah, it kind of makes sense that a pile of rocks that had just been sitting around for who knows how long, would be willing to mindlessly wait.

Several hours passed as Earon remained cramped in the cleft whilst the golem just stood there. His limbs were starting to go numb and his belly groaned. He had to do something, but what? Earon was beyond certain that the pile of stone could kill him without effort.

Just as Earon was readying himself to charge out and take his chances with a wild dash – believing dying on his feet was better than starving to death, the giant doors began to rumble.

It was an unbelievable sight, with the stone gateway being several times larger than the famous Gates of Caedstad. Surprisingly though, whilst the doors themselves did rumble and grind, releasing a dusting of debris, they didn’t seem to have much of an effect on their surroundings – opening as if they were part of a well-oiled machine and doing so within seconds.

Earon could already see the glowing red dot moving toward the gateway, well before it passed through.

Hobbling out, was a bent-over old man whose gray beard sprouted from his face like a mane. He wore a gray robe marked by strange, geometrical shapes and carried a metal stick covered in similar markings.

Not expecting to see another human, Earon found himself short of breath. How could a man possibly be living down here amongst monsters and whatever else?

However, glancing up at the indomitable golem reminded Earon he didn’t have much choice.

“Hello there, over here!”

The old man shook like a wet dog, tilted his head, and continued.

Earon cupped his hands around his mouth, “HELLO!”

"Huh?” The old man turned.

“A little help?”

Shuffling over, the man’s fuzzy brows furrowed. “What do we have here?”

Earon’s eyes narrowed and he forced as much of a welcoming smile across his face as he could whilst squeezed between the rocks.

“Oh, mind my manners. Down boy,” The man said, waving down the golem. “I don’t get a lot of visitors.”

Eyeing the man curiously, Earon hesitated.

The little, old man looked down at Earon, then back at his golem. “Oh, oh, back boy,” he said, shooing the magical construct with his hands.

The golem receded, lowering its frame and collapsing back into a pile of rocks.

“Better?”

Earon nodded, and warily slid out from the cleft.

A small, wrinkled hand shot out at him the moment he was upright. “Trudels Tuckerford, golem master and once resident of Morsen Marrow, the heart of all things arcane.”

“Morsen Marrow?” Earon repeated, the words strange and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“Have things really changed so much in two hundred years?”

Earon eyes fluttered,

“You are of the arcane,” Trudels sniffed. “I’m certain of it.” He ran his index finger through the air. “And not any old caster. Is that the reason you've come here?” he asked suddenly, left eye widening and brow perking.

“What?”

“I can smell it, I’m certain. It isn’t often you come across another rune crafting class, especially one that isn't just another enchanter.”