Zone 3: The Obsidian Depths

  The elevator doors groaned open.

  The air hit them first. It didn't smell like the surface. It smelled of wet iron, ozone, and crushed stone.

  [SYSTEM ENVIRONMENT WARNING]

  [GRAVITY: 1.5x SURFACE STANDARD]

  [LIGHT LEVEL: 0%]

  [MANA DENSITY: TOXIC (Shields Recommended)]

  "Solar Flare!" Caelum shouted, raising his platinum staff.

  A sphere of blinding white light erupted from the tip, banishing the shadows. It was too bright. It washed out the texture of the cave walls, turning depth perception flat.

  "Too bright," Amari muttered, shifting the straps of his pack. "You're painting a target on us."

  "Silence, Porter," Caelum snapped, his voice echoing too loudly in the cavern. "I didn't ask for a tactical assessment from the luggage carrier. Move out."

  Caelum pointed his staff at the darkness.

  "Niko!" Caelum barked. "Take point. If you see anything moving, mark it."

  From the edge of the light, the boy in the black cloak nodded once. He didn't speak. He simply vanished into the darkness ahead, moving silently despite the loose gravel.

  The squad moved into the tunnel.

  It was a procession of arrogance. Jace (The Tank) walked in front, clanking loudly in his heavy plate armor. Miller (Water Mage) and Sara (Healer) stayed close to the light, looking at the jagged obsidian stalactites with nervous awe.

  Amari brought up the rear.

  The gravity was heavy here. Every step felt like walking through waist-deep water. For the Mages, it was exhausting. Their mana shields had to work overtime just to keep their blood pumping efficiently against the pressure.

  For Amari, it was training.

  His Steel Bones hummed. The extra weight of the pack pressed him into the earth, forcing him to engage his entire posterior chain.

  Inhale. Compress. Step.

  He fell into the rhythm. He didn't fight the gravity; he became part of it.

  [Passive Training: Active]

  [Bone Density: +0.02%]

  "Ugh, this place is gross," Sara complained, stepping over a puddle of glowing slime. "Why do we even need Star-Moss? It’s a weed."

  "It's a reagent," Miller said, trying to sound smart. "For structural reinforcement potions. The Artificers pay good money for it."

  "We aren't here for weeds," Caelum corrected. "We are here to hunt. The Dean wants the core of a Deep-Stalker. S-Rank material. That will remind the school who the real Apex Predators are."

  Amari rolled his eyes. A Deep-Stalker was an ambush predator. Hunting one with a giant flashlight was suicide.

  Scritch.

  Amari’s ears twitched.

  It came from the ceiling.

  "Contact," Amari said low. "Twelve o'clock high."

  "Shut up, Porter," Jace laughed, banging his shield. "There's nothing—"

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  SCREECH.

  A massive black shape detached itself from the stalactites.

  It was an Obsidian Beetle. Size of a compact car. Its shell was faceted crystal, immune to most physical damage. Mandibles clicking like shears.

  It dropped straight for Caelum.

  "Protect the Prince!" Jace screamed, raising his shield.

  BOOM.

  The beetle slammed into Jace’s shield. The impact drove the Tank’s boots six inches into the stone floor.

  "Fire!" Caelum yelled. "Burn it!"

  "Lightning Spear!"

  Caelum fired a bolt of white lightning at point-blank range.

  CRACK.

  The lightning hit the beetle’s carapace. It didn't pierce; the lightning hit the beetle’s crystal shell and fractured into harmless arcs that raced across the facets, bleeding into the surrounding stone.

  "It's grounded!" Miller shrieked. "Magic isn't working!"

  "Hit it harder!" Caelum ordered. "Overload the shell!"

  The squad panicked. They unleashed a chaotic storm of fire, water, and lightning. They were burning thousands of mana units, flashing bright enough to blind themselves, but the beetle just hunkered down, weathering the storm.

  Amari watched from the back.

  Waste, he thought. Inefficient.

  He looked at the beetle’s joints. The underside where the legs met the thorax. Soft tissue.

  He could drop his pack, sprint forward, and snap the leg in three seconds.

  But he was the Porter. Porters don't fight.

  "Jace!" Amari shouted over the noise. "Lift the shield! Angle it up!"

  "What?"

  "Do it!"

  Jace instinctively angled his shield upward. The beetle, trying to crush him, slid backward off the sloped steel.

  It exposed its soft underbelly for a split second.

  "Miller! Ice Spike! The belly!" Amari commanded.

  Miller didn't think. He cast.

  A jagged spear of ice shot up from the floor, impaling the beetle through the soft thorax.

  SQUELCH.

  The beetle screeched and thrashed, green ichor spraying everywhere. It died messy.

  The squad stood there, panting. The air smelled of ozone and burnt insect meat.

  "Good kill, Your Highness," Jace wheezed, wiping slime off his visor. "You really... softened it up for us."

  Caelum straightened his armor, looking annoyed that he hadn't landed the killing blow.

  "Messy," Caelum sniffed. "Porter! Clean this up. Harvest the core. Leave the rest."

  Jace hesitated for half a second, like he wanted to argue… then followed his Prince.

  The squad moved on, eager to get away from the smell.

  Amari stayed behind.

  He knelt by the carcass. He pulled out a skinning knife.

  "Leave the rest?" Amari whispered. "You rich kids are idiots."

  He cut open the thorax. He found the Mana Core—a glowing blue gem—and put it in the "Squad Loot" box.

  Then, he looked at the meat.

  It was dense, muscle fiber hardened by high gravity. Rich in minerals. High in protein.

  [System Analysis]

  [Target: Obsidian Beetle Flesh]

  [Nutritional Value: High Density]

  [Effect: Bone Reinforcement / Calorie Restoration]

  Amari checked the tunnel. The squad was fifty feet ahead.

  Amari carved out a massive chunk of raw leg muscle.

  He didn't cook it. He didn't have time.

  He took a bite.

  It was tough, rubbery, and tasted like copper. But as he swallowed, he felt the heat bloom in his stomach. The Void Engine roared to life, breaking down the dense matter instantly.

  Energy.

  The hunger pangs vanished. The cold feeling in his marrow receded.

  He quickly packed ten pounds of the raw meat into the lead-lined false bottom of his pack.

  He stood up, wiping the green blood from his mouth. He felt heavy again. Strong.

  He grabbed his 400-pound pack and swung it onto his shoulders effortlessly.

  Step. Breathe. Step.

  From the shadows of a side tunnel, a pair of milky white eyes watched him.

  Niko stood perfectly still, blended into the obsidian wall.

  He had seen the fight. He had seen the Porter shout the tactical commands that saved the Tank.

  But mostly, he was watching the Porter breathe.

  Niko’s eyes narrowed.

  That rhythm, Niko thought. Inhale on the lift. Compress on the carry. Exhale on the step.

  It wasn't a standard military march. It wasn't a Mage's mana-cycling breath.

  It was the Iron Lung.

  The breathing technique of the Old Vanguard. The technique used to march across the Manaless Wastes without fatigue.

  Who taught you that? Niko wondered, his hand drifting to his dagger. That technique died a thousand years ago.

  Niko slipped back into the dark, trailing the Porter.

  The hunt had just become interesting.