The detour led the Iron Swords away from the stability of the high road and into a landscape of mist and rolling hills.
Nestled between two jagged mountain peaks, the valley floor acted as a basin for heavy mist that shimmered with refracted lights. Enormous shards of crystals jutted from the earth like teeth, glowing on their tips. Moisture saturated everything, slicking the rocks with a permanent sheen and clinging to the visors of the squad's helmets.
Five energy cycles drifted to a halt near the edge of the mountains. The engines whined down into silence, leaving the sound of water dripping from the stalactites above the tunnel entrance and the distant whistle of wind threading through the crystal spires.
Olin groaned as he stepped off his cycle. He wiped a layer of condensation from his glasses, squinting at the foggy readout on his wrist gauntlet. Water droplets beaded on the display, distorting the holographic projection.
"The humidity is messing up the sensors," Olin said, tapping the glass of his display. "The mist is charged with raw energy. Prolonged exposure will cause our equipment to short."
"Quit whining." Vera hopped off her cycle, her heavy boots crunching loudly on the wet gravel. She grinned, grabbing the edge of her dusty cloak and holding it out. "If it shorts, we can just use our eyes."
"Delicate," she hefted her massive warhammer onto her shoulder. She leaned against her cycle, watching him clean his sensors. "Just like its owner. Maybe you should wait in the car while the adults work."
Regius dismounted his matte-black cycle, tightening his glove. The familiar bickering grounded him. It reminded him that despite the blood they had shed at the ravine, the squad remained unbroken. They moved with an unspoken synergy born of countless expeditions in the borders.
Kael secured the perimeter. The large man moved with surprising quiet for someone wearing heavy plate armor. His eyes were scanning the fog for movement.
Milo was deep in the mist.
He had engaged his stealth the moment his boots hit the ground. A blurred silhouette moved ahead of them, hopping effortlessly between the giant crystal teeth. Beside him, the shadow lynx moved in tandem, a silent observer woven from darkness, its paws phasing through the physical obstacles.
"The coast is clear," Milo's voice came over the comms, clear and relaxed, though stripped of his usual humor. "The gate is open. It's not locked."
"Let's move," Regius said.
———
The mining post resembled a ghost town.
The facility consisted of four modular factories arranged around a central hole that plunged deep into the mountain's base. The machinery remained silent, but the lights kept on, casting harsh halos against the swirling mist. A conveyor belt loaded with raw ore sat frozen mid-cycle, chunks of unrefined crystal stacked under the floodlights.
First, they split up.
The double doors of the mess hall swung open with a rusty creak. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of their visor flashlights. Trays of half-eaten food sat on the tables, gathering dust. A spoon rested in a bowl of congealed stew. A deck of cards lay scattered across a bench, some face up, others on the floor, suggesting the miners had simply stood up and walked away in the middle of their free time.
"Zero biological residue," Kael noted, his voice echoing in the quiet room. He walked the perimeter, running a hand along the wall. "The walls are clean. No signs of struggle. No scorch marks. No signs of a fight. Whatever happened here took them fast, or it took them quietly."
"No damage to structural integrity," Olin reported from the corner. He had interfaced with a wall terminal, his fingers dancing across a holographic keyboard. "The 'anomaly' reported is different from a standard earthquake. The ground is stable. In fact, the structural fields are running at maximum efficiency."
Regius walked through the rows of empty bunks in the barracks. The beds were neat and the sheets folded; the miners' belongings are located beside the bed or in the lockers. A sinking feeling is growing in his stomach.
Monster attacks left chaos—splintered wood, shattered glass, and blood spray. Bandits left violence—overturned lockers, bullet holes. There was nothing out of place. It appeared as if the people had simply left.
He moved to the far end of the room, checking the personal lockers. Most remained locked, but one hung slightly ajar.
He stopped when he saw Milo standing by a locker at the far end of the room. He stared at something taped to the inside of the metal door.
Regius approached quietly, his boots silent on the stone floor.
A drawing hung there, done in crayon on art paper. It depicted a stick-figure miner holding a pickaxe, standing next to a smaller stick figure holding a flower. A crude yellow sun smiled in the corner, and scribbled at the bottom in childish handwriting were the words 'Good luck, Daddy.'
Milo reached out, his finger hovering over the drawing. His shoulders were tight, the tension radiating off him in waves.
Regius saw the connection Milo made. He saw Tavus in that drawing. The drawing his own son had made him before his last deployment, the one Milo kept folded in his wallet. The silence of the room became heavier, weighted with the terrifying possibility of what happened to the child who drew this.
Regius stepped up beside Milo. He placed his gloved hand on Milo's shoulder and squeezed with a grounding pressure.
"We'll find them, Milo," Regius said, his voice a low rumble of assurance that filled the empty space. "If they're down there, we'll find them."
Milo took a sharp breath. He nodded, tapping the drawing once as if making a silent promise, before returning it back to the opened locker. The vulnerability vanished, locked away behind the professional eyes of a soldier.
"Regius," Olin called out in the comms. "I found the logs. You need to see this."
"Be there in a sec."
Regius and Milo joined him at the terminal. Green text scrolled rapidly across the screen, reflecting in Olin's visors.
"Logs cut off twelve hours ago," Olin said, highlighting the final entry. "The foreman reports hitting a dense pocket of crystals. They drilled through. The sensors spiked—massive reflective energy readings. Then... silence."
"They dug too deep." Vera hefted her hammer, resting the handle on her shoulder. Her expression darkened. "Greedy bastards. Always pushing for the extra payout."
"If they broke into a cavern, a cave-in might have trapped them. Or worst-case, they woke something up that was sleeping in the mountain," Regius said, reading the geological data.
The squad's stomach sank at the notion.
He looked at the squad. The playful atmosphere of the ride had evaporated, replaced by a cold focus.
"Gear up," Regius said. "We're going down."
———
The lift hung dead in the shaft, its cables slack, so they took the maintenance stairs.
The descent into the crystalline mine took them deep into the crust of the world. Temperature dropped, losing the humidity of the surface but gaining a heavy, static charge that made the hair on their arms stand up.
Human-made lights faded after the first few levels. The stark white LEDs gave way to the natural luminescence of the ground. Massive veins of yellow and orange crystals ran through the rock walls, glowing in a soft light. The light refracted through the prisms, creating dancing patterns on the squad's armor, turning their silhouettes into fragmented ghosts.
The stairs ended, opening into a carved tunnel that sloped downward at a steep angle. The floor was slick with condensation and crystal dust.
Tension in the group was palpable. The silence of the mine weighed on them—the oppressive quiet of millions of tons of rock pressing down from above. Every footstep seemed too loud; every breath sounded like a storm.
Regius took point. He moved silently, his steps making no sound on the crystal-lined floor. His True Sight was activated; checking corners, the wireframe grid showed the structure of the tunnels that stretched for kilometers.
Milo stopped near a particularly large, flat surface of quartz that acted like a dark mirror. The squad paused behind him, weapons ready, expecting a threat.
He held up his hands. Twisted his fingers, casting a shadow against the glowing wall.
A shadow rabbit appeared on the surface. It wiggled its ears. Then, it transformed into a wolf, snapping its jaws playfully at the rabbit.
Vera snorted. The sound broke the suffocating atmosphere like a hammer hitting glass.
"Really, Milo?" she whispered, though she was smiling, the tension in her shoulders dropping an inch. "We stand in an ominous tunnel, surrounded by unknown horrors, and you choose this moment for a puppet show?"
"It's morale for you scaredy cats," Milo whispered back, making the shadow-wolf chase its own tail in circles.
Besides, the kid... the kid who drew that picture. He'd like it. If he's down there, he needs to see something friendly first, he thought.
Kael chuckled, shaking his head. Even Olin cracked a smile, adjusting his cuffs to hide his amusement.
Regius watched them from the front.
In the dim light of the tunnel, surrounded by the alien glow of the crystals, he saw the truth of his team. Kael functioned as the shield, solid and unbreaking. Vera acted as the hammer, fierce and unstoppable. Olin served as the mind, sharp and analytical.
And Milo was the heart.
Without him, they were just efficient hunters. Efficient and precise machines encased in fleshy bodies. Milo brought the warmth. The humanity that kept the machine from freezing over. He remembered the birthdays, he stopped for the alerts, and he made shadow puppets in the dark to remind them that they were people first and hunters second.
Regius felt the cold presence stirring in the back of his mind—the ancient, indifferent star that viewed life as numbers. The entity would agree to the gesture. Because it was boosting morale to make the soldiers more capable. A means to an end.
He rejected the thought. A man is worth nothing without the heart. He needed to be a man who cared.
"Eyes forward," Regius said, his voice gentle. "We're close to the breach."
Milo dropped his hands. The shadow puppets vanished, leaving the wall blank once more.
"Aye, Boss," Milo said, his voice light again. "Lead the way."
They slipped deeper into the tunnel, the light of the crystals catching the fierce determination in their eyes. Regius led, a silent vow renewing in his chest. He would guard that light.
The tunnel widened, and the temperature plummeted further. Ahead, a vast opening loomed, filled with a blinding, prismatic light.
"A chamber ahead," Regius signaled.
They stepped through the breach and into the heart of the mountain.