After trying a second time to send a message through but still not hearing anything, Kane's eyebrows suddenly started twitching.

Rather than get concerned, he send Luna another message, growling threateningly, "If you're doing this get a rise out of me…"

Yet, he still didn't get a response.

"Ugh," he groaned and rolled his eyes. "That girl's going to be the death of me." He knew Luna was playful, and loved to see him worry about her; almost as much as she loved being punished for doing exactly that.

“Ella? Was Luna’s collar unlocked?” he grumbled at the elf in his head.

Ella, unaware that Luna wasn’t responding, answered with a hint of confusion, “It should be. I’m not registering it on the network anymore. I thought you were able to talk with her?”

Kane sighed in resignation, “Yeah, but she likes to play around… that one guard talked about cameras, can you access those?”

Ella decided to ignore the relationship dynamics between Luna and Kane. Instead, she just shook her head with regret, “I’m still working on getting my way into that system.”

Smiling wryly, Erik shook his head, “Well, keep trying. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’d like to make sure. Either way, I’m going to make my way there, so please open the door for me.”

Despite his casual tone and the fact that his bond with her told him Luna was alive and well, Kane couldn't help but let a sliver of worry slip into his mind. Maybe she was fighting a powerful enemy and didn't have time to respond?

Some part of him knew that was bullshit, because their telepathic communication was simple enough that she could at least send a single message like help, but he still couldn't stop worrying at least a little.

So, the moment Ella opened the doors for him, he wanted to rush through and head in Luna’s direction. Fortunately, he could still feel her location. But before he could leave, he was stopped by a shaky, familiar voice behind him, "W— Wait! T— Take me w— with you!"

Kane frowned, and turned around. All of the prisoners were staring angrily at one specific cage. “D— Damnit girl! He was about to leave!” one of them exclaimed, his voice trembling.

It was the same seemingly frail, small girl, who had previous warned him not to touch the bars of his cage. She was now standing in the middle of her cage, and looked at him with a surprisingly steady gaze.

She held herself wrapped in a cloak covering most of her face, leaving only her light-yellow eyes uncovered. The only other thing he could see was what looked like part of a scar, just above her nose. She was quite a bit shorter than him, especially when he was in his beast form, but still tall enough that she could be an adult.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Once again, the woman was shaking in her skin from fear. Naturally, his transformation into a creature born of nightmares had only exasperated the issue, yet for some reason, she still dared to speak up.

With his transformation into Dreadwolf, Kane could quite literally smell fear, and this room was stinking with it.

Every one of the prisoners were filled with dread as practically tried to crawl out of their own skin to get as far away form him as possible. But the surprising thing was, that this woman stank the most, and yet she was only one who dared to open her mouth.

And that interested Kane enough to take a moment to check her out. Enough even to pause his chase after the mischievous catling. She was likely just pulling a prank on him by not answering, anyway.

So he walked up to her cage and crouched down. The girl was standing in front of the bars, trembling as she looked at him. He cocked his head and smirked at her, showing off his sharp teeth.

“Why Should I?” he asked in the gravelly, rasping voice that came with his transformation. “And who says I’d let you leave if you come with me?”

His crimson eyes flared, and the fear inside her rose, but she kept standing, shaking like a leaf. Finally, Kane realized what was keeping this woman on her feet and talking to him. It was determination. Determination was fighting a war with fear inside her mind, and the former was winning.

“I— I don’t want to leave…!” she exclaimed, trembling, but with steady eyes. “I want to hire you!”

“Oh?” Kane muttered curiously, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting…”

But before the woman could explain any more, he turned around and walked away, “But I have no time to hear your proposal now. Perhaps we’ll get to it later…”

Thus, he walked out of the room, leaving behind a room full of relieved prisoners.

* * *

Stepping out of the prisoner room, he found himself in a wide corridor with the same kind of dark-metal walls adorned with green fluorescent lines. The walls bore subtle signs of age: faint scratches, worn edges, and hairline cracks spider-webbing across sections of the walls, hinting at the passage of countless years.

Here and there, patches of some strange, iridescent moss clung to the seams where wall met floor, glowing softly with an inner bioluminescence.

Overhead, a tangle of cables and conduits snaked along the ceiling, some still humming with power, others hanging limp and severed.

The air inside this place was cold and smelled faintly of rust and ozone, a mixture of decay and the lingering scent of charged particles. Dim lights embedded into the walls flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows on both him and the scattered, antiquated devices that lined the corridor.

Some of these machines, half-buried in the walls, buzzed softly or emitted a low hum, their purposes long forgotten but their power sources still active.

Kane looked around the corridor he was in, noting the peeling, faded insignias on the walls that might once have been symbols of a grand organization.

Kane frowned, and mumbled to himself, "I wonder what the history is off this place. It looks ancient, but some of this stuff looks far more advanced than anything I've seen in Riftshade."

"Alfheim, too," Ella muttered thoughtfully in his head.

Deciding to think about it later, he looked around, and noticed he could go two ways: one path seemed to lead further into the depths of the bunker, the other appeared to incline slightly, perhaps leading to an exit or another level.

Feeling around for his bond with Luna, he tightly gripped the sword in his hand and took a left, deeper into the bunker's depths. The metallic echoes of his transformed feet's claws ticking against the mental floors, mingled with the distant, rhythmic drips of water from unseen leaks in the ceiling.