Chapter 38: Log Entry

  The elite team of two Tier Fives, several Tier Fours, and a handful of the militia’s strongest Tier Threes braved the walk down to the dim lit corrupted path that spiraled toward the heart of the Brood. The moment they left the safety of the forward post, the atmosphere changed again. What little warmth the outpost torches offered vanished, swallowed by a heavier breath of corruption rising from below.

  The tunnel curved downward like the throat of some vast stone beast. The walls glistened with threads of dark ichor that pulsed in slow rhythm, almost alive. Crystals embedded in the rock flickered with sickly violet radiance, flickers that brightened then dimmed as if acknowledging the presence of intruders.

  Lars moved in front without hesitation. Darvish walked at his side. Duke Nox followed close with the two remaining personal guards. Behind them came six militia elites, each gripping a weapon that felt lighter than it should under the pressure of the dungeon’s mana.

  Silence dominated the descent except for faint clicks and skitters that ran along the walls. The deeper they went, the more distinct the sounds became. Some sounded close. Some sounded distant. Some echoed from tunnels branching off to either side, narrow crevices where violet light seeped like veins creeping through flesh.

  Darvish scanned one such crevice, assessing the jagged shapes inside. “If the broodmother is close, she will be consuming her own spawn. They do that when preparing to molt or ascend. It strengthens the core while reducing weak numbers.”

  Nox wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting creatures. To think such filth can threaten our borders.”

  Lars did not respond. He was listening. Every sound meant something. Every pulse of corrupted mana painted a picture of what awaited them.

  A new noise drifted from the right. A wet tear. A crunch. A high pitched tremor of pain that was cut short too quickly.

  One of the militia men swallowed hard. “Is that fighting down there?”

  Darvish nodded. “Not fighting. That fucking crawler is eating, cant be the mother though, we dont seem close to the core. I guess its the law of the jungle out here.”

  They advanced toward the sound, the tunnel widening until it opened into a chamber shaped like an uneven sphere. The ceiling stretched high above them, obscured by shadows. The entire floor however was clear to see.

  A nest. Or what passed for one.

  Jagged webs of hardened black silk coated the stone, criss crossed like bone structures. Dozens of crawlers scuttled across the chamber floor. Some crawlers were Tier Three. Others slightly larger. But most were gathered around a single writhing mass in the center.

  The elite party arrived just in time to witness a much larger Tier Three crawler being overwhelmed by others of its kind. Its legs twitched violently as three smaller ones tore into its abdomen while a larger crawler ripped at its mandibles. The dying creature shrieked in a thin wheezing sound as it collapsed. Another crawler-like creature crawled over the corpse and began feeding.

  Cannibalism. Plain and unfiltered.

  Torches cast wavering shadows that made the feeding bodies look almost human in shape. Lars stepped forward and the nearest crawlers froze, mandibles dripping with blackened blood. The weakest among them scurried backward into cracks. The larger ones hissed, wings of chitin scraping against the floor.

  Darvish nodded toward Lars. “Feeding frenzy, usually any intelligent creature would tell the difference in strength between us and them.”

  Nox unsheathed his curved blade. “Enough watching. Kill them before they gather courage.”

  Lars said nothing. He simply lifted his sword and moved.

  The first crawler leapt from the feeding circle, streaking through the darkness with unnatural speed. Its spined legs aimed for his throat. Lars shifted a half step sideways, blade arcing so cleanly that its limbs fell away before it even realized it had missed. Its body spun in the air and dropped with a dull thud.

  That single strike shattered whatever hesitation remained.

  The chamber erupted.

  Crawlers poured from cracks, from walls, from beneath collapsed webs. Some charged in reckless hunger. Others attempted to flank the group. But the elite squad was prepared. Darvish intercepted the first wave with his shield, angling it so the force of the attack slid off while he crushed one head beneath his boot. He swung his blade and cleaved another creature nearly in half.

  Two Tier Four guards of Duke Nox surged forward. Kaels spear being flicking around like a hot fire poker, what looks like molten lava dripping off the end has he activities a skill. Serra gets close to Nox, her class a Flame Warden excelling in defense. “What are you doing?” Nox asked with almost disdain in his voice. “I am one of the two Tier 5s, if I fall you guys are already all dead! Go help Darvish defend the front!”. With that his body erupted into controlled, soft flame. Heat barely radiating from him. Dramatically, he raised his hands in a way that made it seem like he was shoulder pressing the entire North. Around the entire team, a circular pitfall surrounded them. A natural barrier with anyone falling into bathing is a pool of fire.

  Some of the tier 3s faltered, “What kind of skill is that?” only a split second of astonishment was allowed before having to return to their attention the enemies who were now leaping over the lava moat.

  Serra, already having moved to Darvish activated her defense skill. Standing shoulder to shoulder next to this damn Barbarian, she pounded her shield with her weapon just once, but a pulse rippled through the space, the monsters all vibrating for a quick second before screeching loudly and charging towards the Flame Warden.

  “Nice taunt skill.” Darvish gave a half smirk before grabbing a Crawler that tried to leap at him, promptly slamming it down on an earthen spire that he conjured moments before.

  The militia elites followed behind, their movements tighter and more cautious but still practiced. Spears struck exposed chitin with sharp cracks. One man used a hooked blade to pull a crawler from the wall and drive his weapon through its skull.

  The fight lasted only minutes.

  The bodies of the Crawlers lay scattered across the stone floor, twitching in dying spasms. Blackened ichor ran between the cracks of the webbed flooring. A few crystals flickered as if disturbed by the violence.

  Lars wiped his blade with one controlled swipe of cloth. “These were hatchlings. Barely organized.”

  Darvish crouched beside a corpse. “Tier Threes nearing Tier Four. Strong for their stage but still young. If the broodmother is consuming the stronger ones, these may be the culled leftovers.”

  Serra gave an airy sigh. “The amount of Crawlers in this little section of the nest, almost Tier 4s as well… is a bit worrying.”

  Nox waved a hand. “The sooner we burn her the better. Move.”

  They pressed on.

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  —

  The path twisted into a downward spiral that resembled a tunnel carved by claws rather than stone erosion. Chitin scraped the walls in patches where creatures had passed recently. It smelled of decay and chemical musk.

  They encountered branching hallways. Some were blocked by giant mounds of webbing. Others opened into tight alcoves where clusters of egg sacs hung in rippling veined layers. Some sacs were intact, glowing with faint pulses. Others were ruptured, blackened from within, their occupants long devoured by larger spawn.

  The corruption was alive here. Not metaphorically. Literally. The air shimmered with distorted patches of mana so thick that breathing felt heavier.

  System Notification

  [ WARNING ]

  Environmental mana density hazardous for individuals under Tier 3.

  Prolonged exposure may result in sickness, madness, or mutation.

  Lars shook his head. “Well there goes a chunk of the militia." He looked at the Elite tier 3s present. “How are you guys feeling.”

  One of the Teir 3s spoke. “I got a system notification stating the warning, but I reckon I can handle myself a bit deeper. anymore and my mana will start to get affected though, My lord.” The rest nodded their head in agreement

  The team pressed on

  As they descended, the Crawlers grew larger.

  The next group of crawlers were Tier Four monsters with thickened armor plates. They moved in coordinated packs, clicking in a rhythm that almost resembled communication.

  They attacked from above and below.

  One fell upon the rear line from the ceiling, mandibles snapping toward a militia elite. Lars intercepted mid fall, blade splitting the monster’s throat before it reached the man. Another two crawlers scuttled from side tunnels, but Darvish took the hit for one guard, shield bracing against the full weight before he pushed back and slacking downward on its chitin-covered head, killing it. Not before it used something that looked like a skill and spat out two obsidian covered bolts that looked like daggers from its mouth. Darvish blocked one, missing the other.

  The Last bolt from the tier 4 Crawlers sunk its body into the skull of one of the tier 3 elites, ripping its head off and exploding into flesh and blood.

  “Fuck!” Darvish raged.

  Nox fought the other creature with cold precision. His curved blade sliced through its forelimb, then its second limb, then he drove the tip into the creature’s head. He stepped back before the ichor touched his boots.

  Torches flickered to life again after the scuffle. The group remained uninjured. Breathing heavier, yes, but uninjured.

  Darvish glanced down the winding path. “Tier Four monsters this early means the broodmother is accelerating her brood cycle. If she reaches the ascension stage, the core will mutate again.”

  Lars exhaled slowly. “We will reach her before that happens.”

  They marched.

  —-

  A wide cavern opened next, far larger than any before it. Stone pillars rose from floor to ceiling, wrapped in layers of webbing that shimmered with violet streaks. The chamber stank of decay. Dozens of cannibalized bodies lay scattered around the room. Some were half fused into the floor. Others were fresher and clearly dealt with by claw and fang.

  The group stepped around the remains with wary eyes.

  Lars looked deeper into the chamber and saw something odd. At the far end was a large crack in the stone where several Crawlers corpses lay in a pile. They were larger than Tier Four. Probably the beginnings of Tier Five mutations, killed before they could grow further.

  He stepped closer. The bodies had been torn apart savagely. Not by human weapons. Not by normal crawler fangs. But by something larger.

  Darvish saw it too. “She killed these personally. They must have shown signs of deviation or attempted to challenge her.”

  Lars nodded. “It means she is close.”

  The deeper tunnel ahead throbbed with slow pulses of mana. Like a heartbeat.

  Lars smirked. “Finally.”

  They pushed forward until the next chamber came into view.

  It was smaller than the previous open cavern but stable. The ceiling was domed, the walls smoother, as if shaped intentionally. Patches of corruption crystals grew in clusters that cast steady violet light. It was a good potential shelter.

  Lars raised a hand. “We make camp here. Only a short stop, check gear and equipment. Then we move back to the outpost.”

  The group relaxed slightly. Some wrapped items taken from the body of the dead militia man in cloth. Preserving the item to take back to their family. Others rested, or eat rations.

  The Core was close. Probably deeper down the path and they would see it. Now, all that was left to gather the men that could fight and torch it together.

  Farther away from the rest, Lars sat on the skeleton of a long dead Crawler, and pulled out the Field log

  —-

  Torvak and Garric stood guard at the first encampment where the air felt almost calm compared to the deeper tunnels. Garric kicked a pebble at a corrupted crystal and watched it bounce off.

  “Careful,” Torvak said. “Next thing you know it will try to bite you.”

  Garric shrugged. “At least it would be something to do.”

  For a while they simply listened to the quiet hum of the dungeon. Then Garric spoke again.

  “What do you think is written in that field log Lars took?”

  Torvak shifted his grip on his spear. “Could be maps. Could be some old warnings. Could be nothing.”

  “Could be the dungeon telling them what is waiting,” Garric said. “Monsters, eggs, the broodmother.”

  Torvak glanced toward the deeper tunnel. “If it is a Tier Four log, it might be writing that right now.”

  Garric made a face. “I hope it is not about us.”

  “If it is, we have bigger problems than boredom.”

  They both laughed quietly, the sound thin in the dim blue light. Garric exhaled and looked toward the darkness beyond their barricades.

  “Whatever is in that book,” he said, “I hope it helps them.”

  Torvak nodded. “And I hope it stays focused on them. Not on this camp.”

  They settled back into their watch, the crystals pulsing softly while something far below shifted in the deeper dark.

  —-

  Lars read as the field log started generating text with each page flipped.

  Corrupted Dungeon Generated Field Log: Descent into the Brood Path

  Entry: Lesser Creatures of the Nest

  The first inhabitants are the swarmlings, malformed Crawlers that slip between stone cracks. They serve as the nest’s senses more than its soldiers. Their chitter is carried through the corruption veins like a message. Where one dies, the mother listens.

  Tier Three crawlers form the main hunting packs. Their bodies are lean, limbs too long for their frames, eyes blind but ears sharpened by the Broodmother’s guidance. They live for ambush. The scent of blood calls them faster than any command.

  Be cautious of the Obsidian Spitters. Their fangs have hardened into stone-like protrusions. When threatened, they force mana through their mandibles and expel blackglass spears sharp enough to pierce Tier Three armor. These creatures seldom travel alone; the sound of their projectiles summons nearby brood.

  Corrupted Dungeon Generated Field Log: Descent into the Brood Path

  Entry: Greater Denizens

  Deeper still roam the Tier Four and possibly tier Five Sentinels—massive crawlers whose bodies carry remnants of failed ascensions. Their legs glow with streaks of red-black corruption, and striking one is akin to striking a slab of armor. They anchor territory within the den, acting as the Broodmother’s wardens.

  When a Sentinel falls, the Broodmother feels it instantly. Expect a tremor. Expect retaliation.

  Corrupted Dungeon Generated Field Log: Descent into the Brood Path

  Entry: Core Environment Indicators

  When the walls begin to sweat dark ichor, the core chamber is close. Light dies first. Sound next. The tunnel temperatures rise unnaturally as the brood sacs line the ceilings in clusters so dense they resemble molten stone.

  The closer one moves toward the core, the louder the heartbeat becomes. It is not the intruder’s imagination. It is hers.

  Corrupted Dungeon Generated Field Log: Descent into the Brood Path

  Entry: Potential Rewards

  The nest holds rewards, though none are granted freely. Within certain sealed pods are items woven from the Broodmother’s mana: hardened silk armor, crystalized ichor shards, and rare materials that enhance corrupted,- or lightning-based affinities.

  Those who reach the core may obtain the Broodmother’s Heartshard—a catalyst capable of accelerating tier advancement if purified, or corrupting the wielder if mishandled. The shard pulses with instinct. It desires a master. Also a great bond accelerate, though if incompatible can change properties of the bond.

  Corrupted Dungeon Generated Field Log: Descent into the Brood Path

  Entry: Final Warning

  The Broodmother does not sleep. She watches the intruders now. Each step taken in her den is recorded. Each death is marked. If the field log continues writing, the cycle is active. The hunt has begun.