The group rested beneath a wide cavern where the ceiling glowed with soft crystalline light. It offered no warmth, only the illusion of peace. Their boots rested on cracked stone streaked with violet veins, and the air carried the scent of minerals and the faint iron of dried blood. It felt as if they had been walking for hours. Each step had grown heavier, not from fatigue but from the weight of battle. The corpses they left behind haunted their minds more than the trail ahead.
Shun sat on a low ledge, arms resting on his knees, observing the soldiers as they settled into temporary positions. His breathing had long since returned to normal, though tension lingered in his shoulders. From experience, he estimated they had walked for no more than thirty minutes. The labyrinth had that effect, stretching perception with its sheer scale and the disorienting repetition of its passageways. Its walls, carved with ancient runes, seemed to shift in the corner of the eye, never allowing the mind to settle.
Behind them, a long trail of bodies glittered like broken glass. The remains of Dusked monsters, many twisted and warped by foreign ether, had turned partially crystalline in death. Some bore signs of higher evolution, Prime-tier entities that had taken coordination and strength to bring down. Their numbers had grown over time, and so had their resilience. Each encounter drained the group further, not in blood but in spirit, as the labyrinth pressed its weight against them.
The soldiers remained whole. No one had been lost, though several bore wounds that stained their armor and sleeves. Most injuries were shallow, scrapes, gashes, or bruised ribs. Nothing fatal, though nothing to dismiss either. Wounds in this place carried more than pain; they carried foreign ether, and that posed a deeper threat. The labyrinth's energy seeped into cuts, slowing healing and clouding the mind if left untreated.
Shun stood and moved through the group with calm purpose. His presence brought silence wherever he passed. He stopped by each soldier, placing his hand gently near their wounds and channeling his energy into them. The ether he called forth shimmered faintly, reconstructing torn flesh and purging the foreign taint. Rejuvenating them took time. Xin, his counterpart on the surface, was better at this, faster and more precise, but Shun worked with steady patience. The mountain's energies complicated the process, interfering with his focus, yet he pressed on. One by one, the soldiers stood taller after his touch, their breathing steadier, their eyes clearer.
Toren sat against a stone outcropping nearby, his glaive laid across his knees. Beside him, Lira checked the fletching on her arrows, her fingers moving with practiced care. They had remained close throughout the trek, their steps aligned through the labyrinth's twisting paths. Once bound by obligation, they had become something else over time. The long hours of marching and the life-threatening coordination of battle forged trust that no assignment could replicate. They moved as one, anticipating each other's actions without need for words.
They had not spoken since the mission began.
Toren broke the silence. "Lira," he said, his voice low, barely carrying over the faint hum of the cavern. "You got close to that deaf girl back at camp. Been wondering if there's a reason for that."
Lira did not look up immediately. She finished tying a fresh string to her bow, tested its tension with a gentle pull, and set it down beside her. Then she turned her eyes to him, her expression calm but guarded. "Is there something wrong with caring for a child?" she asked plainly.
Toren shook his head once, a small gesture. "No. Was curious. I remember someone saying you used to be a teacher before the army pulled you into the hunting corps."
Lira nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the cavern floor. "That part's true," she said. "I taught for years before the war. Retired after a while. Thought I could find peace that way. But after everything, I figured the best way to keep kids like her safe was to step back into the fire."
Toren rested his hands on his knees, staring out at the resting soldiers ahead. Their movements were slow, deliberate, as they unpacked rations and checked their gear. "She looked up to you," he said, his voice steady.
Lira did not respond at first. Her gaze had drifted again, tracing the shape of one of the broken columns nearby, its surface etched with faint, glowing lines. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost lost in the cavern's hum. "She didn't have much choice," she said. "The others didn't know how to talk to her. Or wouldn't try."
Toren's fingers tapped lightly against the handle of his glaive, a subtle rhythm born of habit. The tattoo on his neck peeked out from beneath his collar, an old military mark shaped like a skull, its lines faded but unmistakable. Lira noticed, and her eyes lingered on it for a moment.
"You're military too," she said, her tone more observation than accusation. "Took the long road like me, didn't you?"
Toren gave a small nod, more of an acknowledgment than a reply. "Yeah," he said after a while. "I was a scout. Got pulled into the vanguard units. They thought I had a talent for close-range fighting. I didn't argue."
"You don't talk much about it," she said, her eyes still on him.
"Not much worth saying," he replied, his voice even.
They fell quiet again, the silence between them easy now, familiar. Not the silence of strangers, but of two people who had walked through too many similar storms. The cavern's crystalline light cast faint reflections on their armor, highlighting the dents and scratches earned in battle. Around them, the soldiers moved with purpose, their murmurs blending with the distant drip of water echoing through the chamber.
Shun finished his rounds and approached the pair, his steps slow but steady. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes carried the weight of responsibility. "We're moving soon," he said, his voice calm but firm. "The labyrinth's ether is shifting again. We can't stay here long."
Toren nodded, his hand tightening briefly on his glaive before he stood. Lira followed, slinging her bow over her shoulder with a fluid motion. The soldiers around them began to gather their gear, their movements synchronized despite their exhaustion. They trusted Shun's judgment, not because of rank but because of his actions. He had kept them alive through worse than this.
The group formed up, their boots scuffing against the cracked stone. The violet veins in the floor seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, though Shun knew it was a trick of the labyrinth's ether. He took point, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the air, the faint hum of energy that guided their path. The soldiers followed, their weapons ready, their eyes scanning the shadows for the next threat.
Ahead, the passageway narrowed, its walls closing in like the jaws of some ancient beast. The crystalline light dimmed, replaced by a faint, unnatural glow that seemed to emanate from the stone itself. The air grew heavier, carrying the sharp tang of ether and the promise of danger. Shun's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade, his focus absolute. Behind him, Toren and Lira moved as a unit, their steps silent, their weapons poised.
The labyrinth stretched on, its passages twisting and turning, each one a mirror of the last yet somehow different. The soldiers' breaths came in steady rhythms, They had come too far to falter now.