As Thorne directed the water flow through the small hole pierced by the Ghost Thorn Tree, a subterranean world unfolded within his perception.
This world was vast, far exceeding Thorne's current sensory range—stretching at least several kilometers. An underground river wound through it, flowing into the distance. Jagged rocks and stalactites lined its banks.
Splashes occasionally broke the river's surface, followed by tearing sounds—clearly, creatures inhabited it.
At the ceiling of this underground realm hung countless bats, their dense cluster of red eyes chilling to behold.
The stream Thorne controlled trickled down the rocks into the dark river. Instantly, he felt a dizzying whirl, and his perception faltered.
Unconvinced, he increased the flow. After several attempts, he stabilized his senses in the river.
The river ran deep and swift. Along its current, Thorne sensed a richer array of life underwater than on shore. These creatures were silent until hunting—then turned ferocious, often devouring their own kind.
Delving deeper, Thorne found his perception waned faster the further he went. He even detected the aura of a Transcendent Tier magic beast.
Reluctantly, he withdrew from the river, redirecting the flow to the shore. It meandered along the rugged bank for hours before human-like voices emerged.
"Could humans survive down here?" Thorne wondered, stealthily approaching.
He discovered not humans, but seven or eight peculiar beings.
These creatures had one eye, a horn atop their heads, and human-like lower bodies, though their skin mimicked the color of stone.
Each rode a rock-like monster, confronting a strange fish in the water.
They wielded fishing-line-like tethers, binding the fish tightly. But the fish's strength was staggering—seven or eight of them couldn't haul it ashore.
The fish emitted odd, piercing cries. The one-eyed beings redoubled their efforts, visibly frantic.
Suddenly, a rock monster stumbled, and the fish yanked hard, dragging its rider toward the water.
A quick companion grabbed his leg, barely halting him at the edge.
"Stanny, hold on!" shouted the rescuer.
The standoff had been even, but losing one shifted the advantage to the fish. Within moments, all seven risked being dragged in—yet none let go.
"McGee, maybe we should give up," one suggested.
"Give up? If we miss this chance, how do we face the clan? Do you want to watch them starve?" McGee retorted.
Five more minutes of this deadlock, and they'd be fish food.
Thorne scanned them: all Mortal Tier Level 1, their leader Level 2. Their rock mounts were Level 2, but the fish—a Mortal Tier Level 5 beast—was far beyond them. Bold to target it.
"Decent wits, weak strength, yet they tame beasts stronger than themselves. They might be useful," Thorne mused.
He increased the water flow—his forte lay in water.
As the group teetered on the brink, Thorne fired a Water Arrow.
It pierced the fish, killing it instantly. The immense tug vanished, and the one-eyed beings narrowly escaped death.
Most patted their chests in relief, but McGee stayed calm, ordering the fish hauled ashore before scanning around gravely.
His alertness clued the others in—the fish's sudden death was odd. Whatever killed it was stronger, and they might still be doomed.
Thorne sighed at the plight of such weak races, their lives perpetually on the edge, beyond their control.
"No need to search. I saved you, poor fellows," Thorne's voice echoed in their minds, startling them into frantic glances.
McGee leapt off his mount, kneeling. The others, confused but mimicking, followed suit.
"Which great one aided us? You've saved our Earth Spirit Clan. Allow me, on behalf of the clan, to offer our deepest gratitude," McGee said earnestly, though inwardly wary of this savior's intent.
"Earth Spirit Clan? How long have you lived here? How many are you?"
"Replying to the great one: records say we've dwelt here nearly a millennium. Over ten thousand remain," McGee answered, not daring to conceal anything.
"Take me to your clan grounds. Don't worry, I mean no harm—I might even help. Tell me about this underground world on the way."
"You're not from here?" McGee gasped, stunned.
Thorne paused, equally surprised.
"You've never seen outsiders?"
McGee's reaction confirmed Thorne's foreignness. Excitedly, he said, "Never, great one. Since birth, our elders taught us of an outer world with sunlight, trees, and rain—but we can never leave, and no one can enter. Our god died, as did all gods here. We're abandoned races."
His tone grew somber, heads bowing. They'd heard tales of the outside, yearning for it, yet knew it was unreachable—even imagining it felt like a luxury.