The tunnels were a familiar place to Alisson. He was glad that he hadn’t brought Marenix with him. It had only been an hour since entering the tunnel, and he could already feel in his gut that something was wrong.

The 56th had departed the capital and made way for the eastern coast, by which there was a great hole in the ground, concealed under layers of flora and nets that had been put there centuries ago. They exposed the great hole, dragging the nets and tarps away. The hole seemed endless. The 56th attached ropes to the lip of the hole, and began their descent as elements of the main convoy arrived and started the preparations for the true force. The 56th and him were just the scouts.

He wasn’t given any map or indication as to where the tunnel lead, just the promise that it had been used in the past as a route of passage to Sabasa. If Sabasa was somewhere east of Sidonia and south of Andestine, then it must have been far into the sea, isolated. Mounts were thankfully lowered down, along with a couple wagons of supplies towed by horses. Once they were all set, they set off into the blackness of the tunnel.

At least this time, Alisson was given leeway to bring his preferred arsenal. He now wore a cloak over his armor, a mix of chain, plates, and gambeson. At his hip he had the sword that Michaela had gifted him with. Around his body, he had with him several throwing knives. In lieu of his attack magic, these were his main ranged option. These knives were imbued with several types of expensive spells that were stored within them.

The tunnel was nothing unique compared against Alisson’s experiences, other than its size. Its diameter could easily fit a couple buildings. The stone here was also fairly straight, and because of the flat ground, it was most likely an artificial tunnel.

The 56th moved in silence, and nothing in the tunnel sparked any stimuli in him, so Alisson was left to his thoughts. He spent time trying to piece together the situation and what this mission even was.

Sabasa was an island that Sidonia had some sort of ancient agreement with, one that perhaps only the Lady Sidonia remembered fully. They were valuable to the Nekomata in some way, otherwise this expedition wouldn’t be dispatched. Andestine had uncovered Sabasa as he had heard, hence the issue. The Sidonian navy must have been patrolling the seas around the island for a millennia, guarding its existence from the rest of the world, simply believing that they were defending Sidonian waters. But now, they had pulled back.

This told Alisson that Andestine probably had naval supremacy of the island, and that Sabasa wasn’t so important as to throw the full weight of Sidonia’s navy to break the blockade. Hence, this path through an undersea tunnel to reach Sabasa.

What exactly was happening on the island, Alisson hadn’t a clue of. For all he knew, the Sabasa as a people had long since died out, and the island was only a secret base of operations.

The formation had ample magicians to cast lighting spells, in addition to scrolls were brought with them, thus a fleet of hovering magic lights followed the men closely, both behind and in front of them.

After a few hours of walking a leisurely pace, the 56th’s commander gave the order to speed up.

The horses broke into a quick trot, as it became apparent to the men that the tunnel was most likely empty, and completely abandoned. The main fear was that in its centuries of disuse, beasts could’ve burrowed into it. Or even worse, the tunnel might’ve collapsed. Seeing as though it wasn’t already flooded, at least the weight of the sea had not broken it yet.

It hadn’t been very long and already Alisson was homesick. No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t yearn for home. He yearned for what he had left behind. Celis. It had been so long that he had been together with her that he had forgotten what it was like to be without her. He could scarcely believe that he had spent all but the last year and a half of his 278 years of living without her.

For hours and hours, they continued on through the tunnel. The tunnel rarely differed in its topography. Eventually, they halted their travels and made camp to rest. The Nekomata might have been able to go without sleep for extended periods, especially when they weren’t physically exerting themselves, but the horses still needed their rest. The wagons were placed on either end of the tunnel, and the 56th made themselves comfortable for what was going to be an uneventful couple hours. Alisson sat alone by the front of the camp, looking out into the darkness of the tunnel.

He quietly ate the soup that had been cooked for him.

He wondered how far he could see into these tunnels without any light sources. With just his ears and his senses. He could usually hear an animal’s heart beat with his true ears, and thus sense them even in total darkness and stillness. There were many places where blending in with the darkness, becoming a lifeless and still thing, was the only way to survive, as he had learned. The rest of Sidonia looked on at the 56th as alien and emotionless people, but Alisson doubted they were truly so devoid of emotions on the inside. The shame of their dishonor was the only thing that bound their minds and lips tightly.

They also did not have Alisson’s last hidden ability, a gift of the hermit Nekomata. It was a special spell that projected two needles of magic from one's temples; these hypersensitive mana prongs allowed one to gaze through any fog or darkness, and see a great distance forward. He hadn’t ever used it before, as he had received the spell very late into his previous mission and hadn’t been in a circumstance to need it. Celis however did, and the spell had seared her skin upon its use; nothing permanent or fatal, but it made Alisson reluctant to think about using it if he needed to.

Eventually, the order was given, the formation began its travel once more.

…

Alisson didn’t know how long the 56th were in those tunnels for. It was long enough that they made camp to sleep for an extended period, taking watch and resting fully, before continuing onward.

Alisson was mind numbingly bored. At least with topside travel, there was a view.

The air was silent and the blackness of the tunnel ahead of them cleared as they moved forward. Alisson had been placed in the front to take point during the next couple hours of travel. There were a few by his side as well. This was the most dangerous part of a formation in a tunnel of course, only equal in danger to the furthest rearguard.

It was sudden and unexpected, much like if one suffered terrible news with no warning. The gut feeling that had been simmering deep inside Alisson’s gut welled and rose into his chest, and then into his throat, where it choked him, and made his eyes go wide. He had instinctively stopped his horse, and in retrospect, it might’ve been the only reason he survived. The other two 56th to his flanks looked back at him for a moment, before they too caught a glimpse of something sticking out of the shadows of the tunnel before them.

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

It was bright red, so it easily drew their attention. Alisson only had a moment to squint his eyes at it. It was a hand, or perhaps more aptly a claw, the surface of which was eerily glossy, like it was skinned.

The 56th in front of Alisson were tackled off their steeds by red blurs. It all happened within a moment. He saw them then quickly dragged out of the light, and into the shadows by long, fleshy red hands. Alisson knew then that this was no time to be mounted. He leapt backwards from his horse, drawing his sword.

“Lights forward!” He swung his arm out.

His inclination to command took over, but regardless of his rank, the 56th complied, and lights surged forward. The three steeds were the next to go in the second thereafter, grabbed and taken into the darkness, struggling and scrambling, but fruitlessly so.

Before the lights could fully reveal whatever had taken them, more of them surged into the formation, from the front, from the sides, from the ceiling of the tunnel. Alisson was briefly stunned in a sensory overload before his adrenaline took over and time seemed slow. The creatures looked vaguely humanoid or quadrupedal, were covered in a fleshy red, and had long claws, like rats. That’s all Alisson could make out.

“Cut through them!”

He ordered, charging forward to meet the one directly before him. With a swing of sword endowed to him by the Seraph Michaela, he diced the beast in two. At least they could be killed. However, a dozen more quickly took its place, surrounding Alisson. He was locked in a dance, weaving around claws and red flesh of these large rat-like things, dicing at them as best he could. He saw spells fire off from deeper in the formation, which slightly aided him. In a split-second window of respite, he looked back toward the 56th.

They were completely overrun.

The horses were butchered, men were dragged into the darkness, and directly behind Alisson, he saw the 56th’s leader being torn apart by a trifecta of the creatures; Alisson could hear his flesh tear and his bones break as his body was split into three pieces within an instant.

The 56th clearly had not the same explosive aggression that was needed to combat beasts of this nature.

Alisson decided then that this position was untenable. He turned away from the 56th, and broke into a sprint forward down the tunnel, alone. He flashed his manifestation, and cut through the creatures that impeded him, focusing on moving rather than killing. It was truly a torrent of flesh, but they were not so oppressive that Alisson’s speed could not penetrate the gaps where there were no creatures. As he blurred past them, they turned and slammed into one another to try to give chase. Perhaps if he drew some away, it would give the 56th a fighting chance.

He quickly ran into another problem. There were no longer any sources of illumination this far away from the formation. The spell that had been lingering in his mind was suddenly presented as an option; but Alisson decided against it; it was a spell he had never used before and a complicated one at that. Casting spells quickly while in combat was something almost no one could do but the very best. And even then, Alisson could only cast the spells he was extremely familiar with, incantations that he had ran in his head so many times that the thoughts had become a kind of muscle memory.

He threw up magic lights in every direction without a care for his mana supply, just so he could see the enemies around him. Alisson realized this was a mistake.

The tunnels walls were now red, moving flesh. There were beasts everywhere around him, and upon seeing the lights, they all shifted direction to him. It was do or die. Alisson withdrew from inside of his cloak, a flourish of throwing knives, and threw them in every direction with a swipe of his hand. The knives impacted flesh, and a moment thereafter, detonated in large explosions. He continued forward, and withdrew one of his most specially imbued knives. He threw it behind him, and the knife detonated into a cloud of bright, white, noxious and burning gas. He could immediately smell the scent of burning flesh as the gas burned the creatures to his rear. That should halt at least one side of the wall of flesh. Alisson threw more knives directly forward and ran as fast as he could. In only a few seconds, he had already used half his throwing knives.

After they were dried up, he would have no means of large radius attacks. Almost in a rage, he tore through the creatures directly before him, slipping to their backsides and cutting them through.

He refused to die here, without Celis by his side. Before, he had only cared about surviving for the mission. But now, it was for Celis. One of the creatures leapt on him, and after a brief struggle, he threw it to the ground and rammed his blade through its head. More quickly took its place.

As Alisson fought, and progressed forward, the lights faded, and he was cloaked in darkness. In him, he reawakened those long-suppressed memories of Freigat. This was just Freigat. He told himself this. He survived then, he would survive now, he just needed to keep fighting, even if the enemies numbers were intangible, even if his comrades were all long dead behind him. He needed to survive.

He didn’t have the time to charge the Moonlight Cannon, not in these conditions. The light seemed to attract them. It was a gamble dealing the creatures in the dead of the darkness; he could hear and otherwise feel them moving around him, but his senses weren’t always accurate, especially not with esoteric creatures like these. He needed the magic needle spell. He focused mental capacity on forming the spell, praying desperately that he remembered it correctly.

He cut through beast after beast. He couldn’t be allowed to get knocked down or otherwise grabbed. It would mean death. Alisson felt blood run over his face and eyes. He was probably covered in the blood and gore of these creatures’ insides.

He completed the spell, and with a burning sensation at his temples, two yellow prongs materialized from the sides of his head, pointing forward, like antennae.

He could suddenly see all the creatures around him. Not with his vision, but with his mind – He didn’t know how the information came to him, but it was so coherent and detailed that his brain visualized it in his eyes, and he imagined the whole space around him, despite the darkness.

The going became more manageable after that. He continued forward. He had sustained some cuts and was bleeding, but it was nothing major. There was a dedicated healer in the 56th, so they carried with them no healing scrolls. It was idiotic. Alisson had learned from his time in the north that consumable items meant life and death; but Sidonia saw the expenses for one time use items as frivolous things, and even then only slightly tolerated refillable imbued items.

The torrent of flesh grew slimmer until it dried up. Alisson looked around, as he ran in the tunnel, completely out of breath. He slowed to a stop, and panting, doubled over, his chest heaving. He looked behind him, and saw a trail of red corpses.

Just then one of the creatures leapt at him from behind, and tackled him to the ground. He struggled with it, grabbing hold of its neck. Its claws dug into his shoulders and arms, and its jaws opened wide, racing to his neck. He kept it away as best he could as they became tangled on the ground. Alisson’s tails split into their Bacilla and the white tendrils rose into the air. They sharpened suddenly and shot toward the creature, impaling it from every direction, but yet it wouldn’t go limp. He punched its face repeatedly, which knocked it away for just the briefest of moments for him to withdraw a throwing knife and jam it into its neck over and over until it fell limply onto his body. He sat still for a moment, clutching the knife and pushing it further into the beasts neck.

Alisson pushed the body off of him, his arms now tattered and his shoulder barely functional. The armor had saved him from the worst of it, though.

He looked around wildly, grabbed his sword, and continued forward into the passage. He needed to reach Sabasa. His Bacilla wrapped around his wounds, tightening on them, and entering his flesh partially to stop the bleeding.

***