The roof cavern chamber came down like judgment.

  Stone split open overhead as boulders the size of carts hurtled downward, shearing scaffolding and shattering supports in a grinding avalanche that drowned out every other sound.

  Xander threw himself sideways, armor scraping across the scorched floor as a slab of ceiling pulverized the floor where he'd just stood. Jo moved in the opposite direction, ducking behind a twisted pillar with barely enough clearance to dodge the next impact. Tactical engagement gave way to pure chaos.

  A scream cut through the thunder.

  Xander turned just in time to see the sergeant sprinting toward the ruined scaffold, where Hask still lay slumped across a broken beam. A boulder hit the platform’s far end, snapping it sideways in midair. Darvos didn’t slow. He vaulted up the base and hurled himself across the gap, catching the tilt just before the whole thing collapsed. Then he dropped, curled, and shielded Hask with his own body as the next wave of rock came crashing down.

  Toward the back of the cavern, on a different section of scaffolding, Zoey jumped.

  Her silhouette cut across the cascade of rubble. The platform she’d been perched on had already started to tip. Jumping from twenty feet in the air wasn't the best choice, but the alternative was to be crushed under a pile of rocks and steel pipe.

  She hit the ground hard.

  The crack of bone was sharp enough to pierce through the chaos.

  Zoey rolled once, skidding through the rock and debris before coming to a stop half-curled around her left leg. The angle was wrong. Bent too far at the shin. She didn’t scream, just grit her teeth and reached for the short sword at her hip, fingers slick with blood.

  A dozen feet away, Kane slammed his shield over himself, hunched low beneath it like a knight bracing against a storm. Rock bounced off the steel in uneven bursts. Sparks flew as the edges dented deeper with every impact.

  Across the cavern, Ford raised both hands and pulled a radiant dome into existence.

  A shimmering hemisphere of divine light bloomed over the remaining Fort Octave soldiers, swallowing them in a golden haze just wide enough to cover the entire group. Boulders slammed into the barrier and dissolved into mist, their mass absorbed or redirected. Inside, the soldiers huddled close, shields raised for an additional layer of protection should the shield fail. Ford stood at the center, eyes closed, jaw clenched, a single stream of blood tracing from his nose to his chin.

  Xander moved again.

  Another stone hit behind him, sending a shockwave that punched air through his coat and nearly took him off his feet. Jo was already in motion, weaving through the chaos with brutal grace, kicking off fallen debris to vault over a shattered column.

  They couldn’t reach Ford, and it didn’t look like there was room under his shield anyway. That left one option. Dodge falling rocks like players in a classic arcade game, weaving through chaos as if the sky itself was trying to break them.

  The cavern floor buckled in places where weight and fire had already cracked the foundation. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes. The air burned with the stink of ozone, scorched coolant, and ruptured magic seals. One of the warspider’s legs twitched, then collapsed fully under its own weight. A support strut jutted through its undercarriage like a splintered rib. Its turret lay crushed beneath a boulder the size of a wagon wheel.

  And still, it moved.

  The warspider dragged its remaining limbs beneath it, joints screeching, sparks leaping from exposed conduits. Its optics flickered in and out, glowing dimmer with each lurch of movement. But the thing refused to die.

  Xander didn’t hesitate as the cave-in subsided. He reached for the hammerpick.

  The weapon still hissed with residual steam, its head faintly glowing from the last empowered strike. He braced low and ran, ducking beneath a slab of fallen scaffolding and sliding through a trench of fire-blasted stone. The spider twisted as he approached, optics trying to track, pincers grinding into the rubble like broken elevator doors.

  The first hit rang hollow sending scattering debris and sending a wash of divine sparks spiraling through the air. One charge built. He didn’t wait.

  The second hit landed just above the rear armor. Another flare. Two.

  He pivoted, found another joint. Slammed down again. Three.

  Jo’s voice cut through the smoke. "It’s turning!"

  "I see it!"

  The spider rotated its chassis with a full-body jerk, trying to reorient toward Ford’s barrier. Its optics pulsed, the flamethrower apparatus beneath its jaw already spooling with heat. The bastard wasn’t done trying to roast them alive.

  Xander sprinted across its flank, climbed onto a jutting limb, and brought the hammer down again. More sparks. Four charges.

  He launched off the leg, landed beside the main pincer mount, and drove the hammerpick into the spot where plate met actuator. Steam hissed. Holy sparks erupted outward like a welding torch overloaded. Five charges.

  He triggered the weapon's special ability on his next swing.

  The hammer head detonated on impact, a geyser of force slamming into the weakened armor and blasting it clean off. Shrapnel sprayed across the cavern. Underneath, the exposed guts of the warspider twitched with sparks and flickering arcs of residual power. Glowing coolant sprayed in a brief fountain before the containment seal burst and the fluid hissed into spraying mist.

  The spider reeled backward. Legs flailing.

  Jo didn’t miss the opening.

  She vaulted over the wreckage of a collapsed brace and landed in a slide that carried her directly under the boss’s exposed belly. Her sword flashed blue-white as it activated mid-strike, lightning crawling along the blade’s edge like a predator scenting blood.

  She drove it upward into the breach Xander had created.

  The arc of electricity lit the chamber.

  Internal circuitry flared once, then combusted in a wave of electric recoil. The spider convulsed, its claws locking mid-spasm. A plume of smoke belched from its back vents. The flame apparatus still tried to fire, but the burst came out weak and crooked, barely licking the edge of Ford’s barrier.

  The warspider stumbled forward.

  One ruined leg dragged against the stone, scraping a gouge in the cavern floor wide enough to catch a boot. The spider didn’t stop. It turned.

  Not toward anything. Not toward anyone.

  The motion was twitchy, uneven, half-guided by the last signal its corpse of a brain had sent. The chassis pivoted on three remaining limbs, convulsing in short, jerky rotations. Hydraulic fluid spewed in spurts from its severed ports, steaming against the floor. Sparks jittered from the exposed undercarriage where Jo’s sword had cored through something important.

  The noise came next.

  A slow, mechanical whine. Deep somewhere inside, a damaged component sounded as if it had kicked into runaway mode. The pitch climbed higher every second, a sound that cut into bone, thin and sharp like a drill bit that hadn’t hit metal yet but was close.

  Darvos turned from the scaffold ruins, Hask still slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

  "Something’s overloading!" he shouted.

  "No kidding! You don't say!" Zoey shouted back.

  The warspider twitched again, faster this time. Legs scraped in opposite directions. The core chassis bulged slightly, then locked, then trembled. Sparks sprayed outward in wide, lazy arcs as its internals struggled to decide whether to fail, explode, or both.

  "Run," Xander barked. "Haul ass now!"

  He didn’t wait to see whether they obeyed.

  He turned to Zoey, who was still propped awkwardly against a toppled brace, her bow several feet beyond her on the floor. Her face was pale.

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  "I got her left," Jo said, already crouching.

  Xander dropped beside her on the right. Together, they hauled Zoey upright, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, her good leg kicking for purchase as they half-lifted, half-dragged her into motion.

  "Don't drop me, I swear to God." Zoey hissed through clenched teeth, jaw clenched so hard it might crack.

  "Complain later," Jo said.

  "Going to be a long list."

  Behind them, the whine deepened. It had gone past electrical now turned into something primal. The sound of pressure pushed too far, a kettle scream scaled up to bunker-breaking volume.

  Ford was already at the entrance of the chamber, motioning frantically to the Fort Octave line. The holy shield had dropped, but he’d kept them moving, herding them toward the tunnel mouth like a shepherd under artillery fire.

  Kane ran behind them, shield lifted over Darvos and Hask, intercepting the smaller debris still cascading from the broken ceiling. Dust clouded the path, thick enough to blur outlines, but not enough to hide the light bleeding from the spider’s overcharged core.

  Xander didn’t stop to look.

  The group hit the tunnel as if the devil itself was chasing them. Stone underfoot, warped rails from the old mine track, half-melted in places where the spider’s ignition had vented heat up the shaft. The incline worked against them, every step dragging Zoey’s weight like a penalty, but she kept her mouth shut now. Didn’t even curse.

  He hated that more than the screaming.

  The whine crescendoed. Then snapped.

  Behind them, lightning ripped out of the spider’s corpse in wild, undirected bolts. Blue-white arcs licked across the cavern’s support beams, chain-danced through puddles of spilled coolant, then snapped up into the overhead rock. The shockwave didn’t come yet, but the lights in the tunnel dimmed.

  The entrance was close now.

  He saw the sunlight first. Filtered through smoke, but it was there. Darvos broke into the open ahead of them, boots slamming against the rock path just outside the mine mouth. Ford and the others followed a half-second later.

  Then came the sound.

  The explosion didn’t hit all at once. It rolled like a shockwave of pressure and screaming air that tore through the tunnel like a hurricane stuffed into a cannon barrel. Xander felt it before he heard it, a bass gut-punch that stole the balance from his legs even as the wind hit next.

  They were hurled forward.

  Jo went down hard on one side, Zoey twisting with her. Xander felt his shoulder wrench as the force sent all three of them flying through the mouth of the mine. Dirt and gravel tore past them in a stinging wave. He hit on his side and skidded, one boot catching a root, the other dragging limp for a second too long.

  Zoey screamed.

  Her body folded the wrong way, leg twisting again as she slammed to the ground and bounced once, rolling to a stop in a half-curl. The breath left her lungs in a raw, ragged gasp.

  Xander was up before he thought about it, scrambling over to her.

  "Zoey!"

  She wasn’t unconscious. Worse. She was fully present, teeth locked, eyes wide, shaking her head like it might keep the pain at bay. One hand slapped at the ground, looking for anything to hold on to that wasn’t the agony threading up her spine.

  Jo was already beside her, hand on Zoey’s neck to keep her still.

  "Don’t move," Jo said. "Not a centimeter."

  "No plan to," Zoey rasped, breath hitching. "Jesus, that hurts."

  Kane stumbled up from behind them, limping but upright, one side of his shield warped like a melted trash can lid. Ford jogged up seconds later, robes torn and one sleeve burned away, but his staff already raised.

  Darvos knelt nearby, Hask laid out on the grass now, still breathing.

  Behind them, the mine entrance had collapsed.

  Where there had once been a yawning metal throat, there was now a smoking pile of fractured stone and blackened steel. The edges still glowed with residual heat. A few smaller rocks trickled down from above, bounced off the debris, and rolled uselessly down the slope.

  The sound of the explosion echoed out into the artificial valley.

  Then nothing. Just wind. Smoke. And the ragged breathing of a party that had made it out by seconds. Maybe less.

  Xander let himself sit. Only for a moment. Just long enough to be sure no one else was going to die in the next breath.

  Then he looked down at the hammerpick in his hand, its steam chamber empty and frame scorched.

  "Next time," he said, "we’re just collapsing the damn tunnel first."

  Jo didn’t laugh.

  Zoey did though. Barely as the pain of laughing was clear on her face.

  "Where’s the fun in that?"

  Zoey’s voice cracked between a laugh and a groan, the sound of someone trying to pretend her leg wasn’t mangled. She lay back on the scorched earth, sweat streaking through soot on her temple. Her bow was gone, her quiver half-empty, her hair plastered to her face, but she still found the strength to grin up at him.

  "Fun’s overrated." Xander said.

  Jo had already ripped a strip from her coat and tied it above the break. Zoey’s shin angle didn’t leave room for guessing. It wasn’t just fractured, and it wasn't a clean break. It was wrong in geometry and in sound.

  "This is going to hurt," Xander said.

  Zoey gave a weak chuckle. "Gonna? It already does, genius."

  He set his hands on the joint, steady but not gentle. The pain was coming either way. "On three."

  Jo braced Zoey’s shoulders. "You’ll thank him later."

  "Doubtful."

  "One."

  He pulled on two.

  Was it cliche? Yes. However, it was also the best way to keep her from tensing up and making it worse.

  The scream tore out of Zoey’s throat like something alive. Jo held her steady as Xander twisted, felt the pop and grind of bone resetting into place, and the heavy, shuddering tremor that followed.

  Ford had already staggered over, hand glowing faintly with golden light. "Move," he said.

  Xander leaned back as Ford’s spell took hold. The light crawled down Zoey’s leg, filling the bruised tissue and cracked bone with warmth that pushed the wrongness away in ripples. She didn’t stop shaking, but the worst of the agony bled out into the dirt beneath her.

  Ford exhaled hard and leaned back, robe hanging in tatters. "That’ll hold for now. No sprinting for a few days."

  Zoey wiped at her eyes, then grimaced. "That’s fine. I’ll just hop dramatically. Adds character."

  Jo gave her a look that was half affection, half threat. "You’re not moving until I say you can."

  "Motherly tone’s new. I kinda like it. Sexy, but you're not my type."

  "Shut up, Zoey."

  "Yup."

  The humor hung there, thin but real, until it collapsed under the next silence.

  Xander was already scanning the group. Ford had wandered over to Hask, who sat slumped against a rock, helmet off and hair plastered with blood. His eyes were unfocused. Darvos knelt beside him, saying nothing.

  Ford placed a glowing hand on Hask’s temple. The light flared, then steadied. "Concussion," he said quietly. "Nothing permanent. He’ll live."

  Darvos nodded once, eyes still tracking the smoke rising from the mine mouth. "That makes one of us."

  Then Xander’s vision flickered as a quest notification popped up.

  No Sanctuary for the Wicked

  Quest Update! You have laid waste to a cultist stronghold and halted the awakening of a forgotten engine of destruction. Through fire, ruin, and relentless will, your judgment stands.

  The heavens bear witness.

  The wicked find no sanctuary.

  The Crusade continues.

  Quest Reward: 75 Gold, Seal of Furious Benediction

  Particles of golden light spiraled together, resolving into a floating seal that hung just above his palm. Two long strips of cloth parchment with unreadable script trailed from a waxlike medallion shaped like a broken sun.

  It looked old.

  For a moment, he thought of the relics in old cathedral museums. The ones that used to draw crowds before religion had been rewritten by code and chaos.

  Seal of Furious Benediction

  Quality: Epic

  Enchantments: Aegis of Benediction

  Description: A relic marked with purpose and strength of will. Twin lengths of scorched vellum hang from a melted wax insignia, their etched script caught between divine verse and corrupted command-line. When affixed to armor, the seal radiates a constant ward of protective force, soft as breath and hard as faith. The field dims only in death or betrayal.

  A blessing forged in wrath, the Seal of Furious Benediction answers violence with conviction. It remembers pain, holds grudges, and protects not out of hope, but out of promise. This item provides a passive damage reduction of 12% when attached to any armor piece worn.

  Some relics were made for the peace of Saints. This one was forged in the rage of Crusaders.

  He stared at it for a long moment, silent. It looked like something directly out of a grimdark roleplaying game, maybe even one with faith-based undertones. Which was funny, considering he’d never been religious.

  Faith had belonged to other people. The Simulation had seen to that.

  And yet here it was, offering him divine protection in neatly packaged code.

  He huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, one part disbelief and one part resignation. Guess irony’s the message of the day as he slide the item into his bushcraft belt. He didn't want to flaunt a reward when they'd lost several people.

  Changing focus, he lifted the coat’s edge and studied the damage.

  The leather was torn along the shoulder seam, the hem burned through in patches. The right sleeve had blackened completely. It had been through every poor decision he’d ever made since the Reboot began. It probably wouldn’t survive another.

  He ran a thumb along one of the burn marks and frowned. "You’ve had a good run."

  Jo crouched nearby, watching him. "Talking to your coat now? If you start monologuing, I swear to god I'm pushing back down that tunnel."

  He gave her a sidelong glance. "It’s pulled its weight. You, on the other hand…" He said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

  "Say that again and you’re sleeping in a different tent tonight."

  He smiled faintly. "Fair."

  The mine let out a distant groan, a reminder that the world below was still unstable. Ford was checking over the soldiers one by one. Kane had dropped to sit near the edge of the slope, shield propped beside him like a battered relic. Zoey lay still but awake, watching clouds through the thinning smoke.

  Xander tightened the collar of his ruined coat and looked toward the collapsed mine mouth.

  Jo caught the look. "You thinking what I think you’re thinking?"

  He didn’t answer right away.

  When he did, his voice was quiet. "How did the cult know about this place, and where is all this advanced magical technology coming from?"

  Jo nodded. "We've seen some of it in dungeons."

  "Yeah," He replied. "But this wasn't a dungeon, and I doubt all that magic tech I saw back at Fort Octave came from one either. It's a magical arms race, and Starlight is behind."

  She gave him a look that said she agreed but wasn’t about to admit it.

  He sat back on the dirt, pulling up his companion screen. Cabbot was listed as being back in the spirit realm. He hoped that she'd be okay after some time to recover.

  Xander lamented for a moment that it appeared the cult was trying very hard to take everything he loved away from him.

  He remembered something Jo had told him once, back when the world still had restaurants and plans that went past a single day.

  Good men do the right thing even when it’s hard.

  He wasn’t sure about the 'good' part. But he was still here. Still standing between whatever was left of humanity and the things trying to erase it.

  That had to count for something.

  He rose slowly, the dust settling around his boots as the last echoes of the mine faded into silence.

  Then he looked toward the ruined buildings and collapsed entrance, smoke curling into the pale morning sky, and muttered to no one in particular.

  "I’m in this for the long haul."

  Behind him, gravel shifted and crunched.

  Two of Darvos’ men dragged a limp figure across the rubble-strewn slope. They were robed, burned, and appeared to still be breathing. One arm hung at a crooked angle. Blood marked a trail behind him.

  Xander turned, eyes narrowing.

  Looks like they’d get some answers after all.

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