We walk deeper.
No one says it, but I can feel it—the tension slowly loosening, breath by breath, like a bowstring just beginning to slacken. The deeper we go without a fight, the more everyone starts to believe this might just be a standard sweep.
Maybe even easy.
The cave widens slightly. Our boots scuff over smoother stone now, the echoes no longer so sharp. The air's still wrong, still thick with mana residue—but quieter, less hungry.
Rolim mutters under his breath, tone light. "If something was hiding, we've probably scared it off with all this stomping."
"Not scared," Julius says behind me. "Maybe it's waiting for the right idiot to talk first."
Randall snorts—quiet and a little surprised, like he didn't expect Julius to joke.
"I vote Rolim," I say.
That gets a small laugh from Daniel, a breath-hitch from Randall, and a dramatic sigh from Lirael. The warmth is thin, brief—but real. Enough to crack the silence.
Even Kate lets out a low hum, amused.
"Left bend coming," I say as the stone beneath my cane shifts pitch. The tunnel curves. Narrow again. "Then an open space. Air's moving differently."
Daniel steps ahead of me briefly, boots thudding. "I'll check it—"
A growl cuts him off.
Low. Deep. Wet with breath and old blood.
I freeze, hand curling slightly over my cane. The vibration of it threads through my bones like a warning drum. It's close. Closer than I thought.
"Big," I say quietly. "Four-legged. Not corrupted."
Another growl, louder this time. Heavy footfalls. Claws scraping.
Rolim clicks his tongue again, almost amused. "Please don't say bear."
"Mana bear," I answer.
And then it appears—its presence pressing on the cave walls. I can feel its steps shaking loose grit from the ceiling. No hesitation. No fear.
Daniel lets out a low, delighted laugh.
"Oh, perfect."
Kate starts, "Daniel, don't—"
But he's already stepping forward.
"Let me stretch my back."
The bear roars.
And Daniel roars back.
What follows isn't combat—it's a clash of monsters playing at war. Stone cracks beneath their weight. Mana slams into mana in tidal bursts. The bear swings with elemental force, and Daniel takes the hit, laughs, and swings back harder.
The cave becomes percussion—blow after blow after blow.
He doesn't draw on spells. Not really. Just enough earth magic to root his feet, absorb the brunt, match the creature's weight with his own.
I hear the grin in his voice. "This is way better than drills."
Julius shifts beside me, arms crossed. "He's insane."
"Effective, though," Kate says. Her voice is neutral, but I can feel the edge of a smile in it. "Let him have his fun."
Stone crumbles. The bear grunts, winded. Daniel grunts louder.
And then—impact.
A final, ground-shaking thud, and the cave goes still.
The bear lets out a long, low whine. Not pain—just done. Beaten. Its mana dims slightly, pulling inward like it's licking its wounds.
Daniel, panting but pleased, brushes dust off his shoulders. "Heh. Good warm-up."
Rolim whistles, impressed despite himself. "Alright, rock man. I'll give you that."
The others start to chuckle. Spirits rise.
But I don't move.
Not yet.
Because underneath the dust and the echo of laughter—something else stirs. Something deeper in the cave. Something wrong.
It doesn't breathe.
It doesn't growl.
It waits.
Julius leans a little closer. His mana brushes mine—warm, alert. "You feel that too?"
I nod once, barely.
"Keep smiling," I whisper. "They don't feel it yet."
We move deeper. The tunnel stretches like a throat, winding and damp, its breath stale and heavy with forgotten things. My cane scrapes stone in short, controlled taps. The echo narrows. Ceilings dip lower. Magic thickens.
I can feel it—like something old pressing down on the edges of my awareness, patient and alert.
Julius slows behind me. I feel the shift in his mana, like a tremor under the skin.
Then his voice cuts through the cave. Quiet. Controlled.
"Everyone stop."
The footfalls still. Breath catches. Even the cave seems to hush.
"There's something ahead," Julius says, loud enough for the group but steady as stone. "Deep in. Power level's unknown, but it's heavy. If that's one of the devils Lorre warned us about…" He lets the silence finish the sentence for him.
Kate speaks next, low and deliberate. "Then we move like ghosts. No light unless we need it. No shouting. No casting unless you're damn sure it matters."
I nod, even though I know no one sees it. "Something's wrong with the mana here. Like it's pulled toward something, not pushed."
Rolim curses softly under his breath. "You mean like gravity?"
"No," I murmur. "Like worship."
We continue, every step more deliberate. The rhythm is gone now—this isn't a squad moving. It's prey navigating something's nest.
Ten more steps and I smell it—burnt moss, old stone, and something sharp underneath.
Then I hear them. Low growls. Clicking bones. Footsteps too steady to be natural.
The beasts.
And beyond them— mana glowing faint and wrong—the scroll
—
—
Bonus:
Cave party breakdown
• Annabel – Rank 3, blind sensory mage; publicly known to use earth, fire, water, wind, and ice. Secretly a space mage (a type of affinity magic of the sorts that only a handful of people know about). Her perception relies on sound and mana tracking. She's reactive, tactical, and underestimated.
• Julius – Rank 3, fire mage, experienced and tactical, often steps in as the battlefield lead.
• Kate – Rank 4, earth + wind mage, mid-range specialist, highest-ranked Stage 4 mage, calm and precise, respected by everyone.
• Daniel – Rank 4, earth mage, massive close-combat bruiser, former arena fighter, absolutely thrives in chaos.
• Randall – Rank 6, water + ice mage, long-range support, still coming into his confidence but incredibly precise.
• Rolim – Rank 5, fire mage, volatile and arrogant, prefers high-damage casting, elite background.
• Lirael – Rank 5, plant mage + healer, calm and nurturing, stabilizing force on the team.
• Wyn – Non-mage, close-quarters specialist (longsword + short blade), young but solid, brave and dependable.
• Zahor – Non-mage, flanker and defensive wall, seasoned, calculated, protector of the squad's edges.