Glaus and his team stepped through the dark, endless chamber behind their merminea guides. He couldn’t see anything beyond the outline of his tentacles as they moved step after step before him. None bar Telum fared any better, yet they dare not strike a light. They may be Beiths, but not even the strongest public force of the Mercenary order would bring a lantern down into these depths.

Not when it meant certain death.

Glaus eyed the backs of the mermineae warily. Or at least where he could hear the barely audible taps of their claws striking stone over the clatter that was Hirsh’s steps.

He was uncomfortable having to work with the creatures, but it was impossible to ignore orders. The recent war against them was fresh on his mind. Many friends had died, and he was expected to forgive these beasts because they were coerced by some Titan-like power? He couldn’t do it.

These mermineae should have fought their tyrant themselves, rather than break through these tunnels to bring her to us. They should have stayed on their side of the Titan Alps.

Despite his distaste for the mermineae and suspicions that the trio in front of him was leading his team into an ambush, he kept plodding along. Without the power of their tyrant flowing through their veins, few of their kind were stronger than a Luis mercenary. Glaus and the others besides him wouldn’t have a problem if they attacked. Plus, he had a job to do, and begrudging or not, he would do it.

The mermineae had found signs of some new creature about a day’s journey from the surface exit — the only known one. Glaus would have preferred his superiors simply tell the mermineae to investigate themselves, but politicians of the pact nations wanted the Order to ‘prove their worth’ after the debacle of the last war.

Well, it was also blatantly obvious those same politicians wanted to control the fragmented mermineae under the guise of supporting the weakened race.

This was a frequent role of his team in the past month, and yet it never grew easier. If he was to be honest with himself, this was a task beyond his team. Yes, it was something a Beith team should be able to accomplish, but he wasn’t so sure he or the other three with him deserved the raise.

Most likely, it was the Order trying to fill a quota so that they could report less loss of strength post war than was true. Neither he nor the others were about to deny the pay rise that came with the Beith rank.

So there Glaus was, stepping along the hard stone with his six limbs while twisting at each skitter or screech that echoed through the cavern.

“It is here,” one guide said, bringing them to a halt.

Glaus couldn’t see what was being referred to, but Telum, as a Volan, had little issue. His kind were small and weak, but they certainly made up for it with their speed and sight. Plus, the wingsuits they made let their tiny bodies fly; something he was endlessly envious of.

Not that he would ever let Telum know. Glaus already got enough shit from the others for that time he gambled away all their funds. Lost to Telum’s cousin. He didn’t want to give his little teammate any more ammunition.

“Something carved grooves through the ground,” Telum said. “Whatever it is, it’s big. Difficult to say whether it was dragging its belly across the ground or a tail, but either way, we’re looking at something about a quarter the size of an Ōmukade.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Probably barely fit in here.”

Glaus shook his head at the implication. This creature, whatever it was, scratched up ranked stone simply by moving. He wasn’t so sure he could do that with his strongest swing.

“So we have a beast at the scale of a Nareau that can fit within these birthing chambers… Shouldn’t we rush back immediately?” Ceph’s tentacles shuffled as she twisted, as if expecting the beast to attack at any moment.

Ceph was a dohrni, one of Glaus’ kin. While it was too dark to see her, he could imagine her eyes spinning in her spherical head, looking through the purple membrane of her skin — as opposed to his blue — while her six tentacles lowered her body to the ground in a defensive stance. Whether she actually acted as he imagined, or it was all in his head, Glaus didn’t know.

“No,” he said, coiling the tips of his own tentacles. He hated having to say otherwise, but they couldn’t stop here. “We need to know more.”

An unknown beast could pose a terrible threat not only to the mermineae, but also to his mercenary comrades. The massive arachnids and elusive centipedes below already made these depths unreasonably dangerous, but they were predictable.

Both species only ever stayed in the vast cavern below. They shattered holes through the ceiling when they lay their young, but that occurred rather infrequently. They were, thankfully, mostly deaf and only hunted by light. If even the lightest trickle of light filtered through a hole or crack to the cavern below, their team would be dead before they had the time to understand what went wrong.

Glaus glanced back to where Hirsh’s hard antlers clattered along the stone behind him. The khirig, as a mage, was unable to provide any sort of support outside of emergencies. The mage markings etched into the branching bone-like antlers that made up his arms, legs and chest-cage, would emit bright light the moment he activated them. Glaus only brought him along because if things did go horribly wrong, Hirsh would be essential for their escape from the large lower cavern. It was suicidal to rely on a rope while being chased by a monster.

Despite being a mage, Hirsh was a rather large unit for a khirig. The antlers that spun out from the spine were thick and strong. Even without the use of hyle, he could take a beating. It was simply unfortunate that he wasn’t particularly proficient with a weapon despite his size. Usually, that fact never mattered, but it has posed a source of annoyance ever since they’d been sent to protect the entrance to these caverns under the Titan Alps.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

From what Glaus knew, the entrance had only existed for a few years now. And most of the citizens of the pact nations only learned of it when the mermineae used it to invade. Prior to that, it had been believed impossible to pass the endlessly tall Titan Alps.

The Alps grew so tall they left a shadow on the sky. Peaks visible from anywhere in the world. Who knew that after years of failed attempts to climb the mountains and discover what lay beyond, there was a series of subterranean tunnels that connected the sides all along?

As the caverns were still so new, death was common. Too many creatures down here remained a mystery. A dangerous mystery that they needed to resolve lest those beasts rise to the surface.

They needn’t fight the beast they tracked, but there was a minimum requirement of investigation his team needed to fulfil.

“Looks like the creature is serpentine.” Telum leapt from his seat upon Ceph’s head to land a few metres before Glaus. The Volan scratched at the trail of the creature. “Motions are sinuous and fluid rather than straight.”

Knowing the type of creature they followed helped, but hardly meant their job was over. “Alright, while this snake is of similar scale as the monstrosities down below, we cannot assume it is equally deaf. Keep the chatter to a minimum.”

Glaus likely didn’t need to say it, as there hadn’t been much talk in the first place, but sometimes it was just good to outline orders in clear terms.

Even in the dark, Glaus could feel the eyes of the mermineae turn to the large khirig of their group. Hirsh sighed, not unaware of the sound his antler-feet made. He untied the shirt covering the small body of muscle and fat protected beneath his cage of antler. Taking the shirt, Hirsh tore it in two before wrapping it around the end of his antler feet.

The muffled sound of his steps were better, but still far from silent.

Eventually, after the team followed Telum’s guidance, they reached the end of the trail. A hole to the giant cavern below. If there’s anything Glaus was thankful for in these underground caves, it’s that you cannot miss the holes. Not unless you were blind.

The dim blue light from the swarms of glow-bugs was impossible to miss amidst the darkness. The millions of shining insects hovered a metre or so above the ground far below, their light combining into a deceitfully calm sea.

The ranked stone of the hole itself had already begun to regrow, so it is unlikely the serpent created it. Considering the scratches they followed, there was no doubt it could break through ranked stone, but this hole was simply too old. The scratches would have regrown otherwise.

Without so much as a word from him, both Ceph and the mermineae pulled out ropes, secured them, then tossed them into the depths below. Glaus grabbed Ceph’s rope with a tentacle and rappelled down first.

Despite climbing down into the den of the beasts, he found this part far easier than wading through the pitch blackness. There was just something about moving into the bright glowing ocean below that was calming. Like a safe-haven from danger — even though he knew it was anything but.

A single glance to the many dark patches amongst the swarming bugs was enough to raise his wariness again. Glaus knew most of the dark spots hid relatively tame beasts he could fight off easily, but there was always the chance something worse lurked.

As he touched down on the soft soil, it was impossible to ignore the state of the surrounding earth. In the dim light of the bugs, he could see countless trenches through the soil, dug up sections of ground and most surprising of all: the corpse of a Nareau.

The glow-bugs were eating the dead monstrosity bit by bit, but it was clear they hadn’t been the ones to do it in. The head of the arachnid hangs by threads from the rest of its body. Not that the rest is in any better condition. The abdomen looks like crushed fruit, and a couple of the upper legs have snapped the wrong way. Even on the nearly decapitated head, half the eyes are missing. Cut off with surgical precision.

“Damn,” Ceph says, having dropped to his side, before realising her mistake and quieting.

Glaus doesn’t berate her. He feels much the same. It is rare, but he’s heard from other teams that have seen the monstrous fights between these giants. What’s even rarer, is the victor not consuming the spoils. Glaus is sure none of the other teams have seen one of these beasts this close. At least, not those still alive.

Soon, the entire team is down, and Telum — who flew down — whispers to them. “There’s another.”

They follow his guidance almost a kilometre away, where they find a second Nareau corpse. Unlike the last one, which had the crushed appearance they knew was consistent with an attack with an Ōmukade, this had its own fang pierced right through its head and almost all its legs crippled.

“Any word of an Inner Circle merc coming through this way?” Hirsh asked, hushed, as they all stared dumbfounded at the corpse.

“No.” Glaus knew none of the Order’s elite should be anywhere near the Alps currently, but even he doubted that now. What animal fought by whittling down one’s limbs, then using a creature’s natural weapons against themselves?

This was — while brutal — a touch too methodical to be a beast. Something intelligent, while just as powerful as the Nareau had done this. If not the Mercenary Order’s Inner Circle, then Henosis was sending their elite over; not a good sign.

Still didn’t explain why they hadn’t used the inheritance ritual and taken on the beasts’ power for themselves.

Ruminating on what this might mean, and how unprepared the pact nations would be for a war with the Henosis Empire right after scraping through the last one, Glaus followed one of the deep trenches wider than he was tall, which seemed to break up the soil all through this region of the cavern.

It led him and his team to the dark wall, where the light of glow-bugs didn’t reach. The ambient brightness of the swarm was enough to see a metre ahead of him, but not much more.

After a short search, Glaus heard Telum squeak. Neither a shout of alarm, nor sound of warning. Glaus turned, ready to tease the volan for the wimpy sound, but his words fled when he saw his friend; frozen in terror.

Glaus spun, his blades already unsheathed and swinging. They bounced off something hard, a jolt of pain racing up his tentacles. Whatever he hit, it was harder than ranked stone. He found himself staring up at the massive maw of a barely visible serpent. The thing was huge. He stumbled back, but there was no delay in his curved swords rising to meet any attack the snake might deliver.

He stood there for a long moment, his team dashing to the side as they prepared to retaliate, but the beast never struck. They waited in the dark as the serpent remained still. Unmoving.

Ceph, to his right, fired off her handheld cannon. The shrapnel pelted off the snake’s scales without a scratch as the bang of echoed through the cavern. Glaus wanted to glare at her; that weapon was little better than the mass production guns for the unenhanced. A gimmick. Not only was it unlikely to help, but who knows what the sound could attract?

Thankfully, the snake remained frozen.

Glaus stepped forward. Two of his tentacles held swords, while the remaining four crouched in case he need to leap away at a moment’s notice. He jabbed at the scales of the beast, only to find his blades unable to scratch them.

The snake didn’t move. “It’s dead,” he called to the others.

They each relaxed from their fighting stance. Glaus walked around the massive head and stepped warily along the side of the serpent. He looked for what might have killed it, and after thirty or forty metres — he still couldn’t see how far the length extended — he found it; a break in the scales on the back of the serpent.

He climbed the dead snake, the scales not bending in the slightest under his weight. Glaus peered down into the wound, only to find nothing within. It was only then that he realised this wasn’t a corpse, but shed skin.

The snake was still alive, and it was a lot bigger than what it was in the upper cavern.