The notice wasn't posted at the Agency. It was handed over on a dirty scroll by a blind old man sitting in the corner of a plaza where even the pigeons refused to land.
"Collapse in the Ghallarn tunnels," he muttered without ever looking at Fleck. "Creatures crawling through cracks. No one wants to go down, but some focus stones remain. Some still alive. Three silver coins per core recovered. Five if unstable. But you must come back. In one piece."
Fleck didn't respond. He simply took the scroll and walked.
The Ghallarn Tunnels lay beyond the broken foundations of the Lower City, where cobblestones gave way to dust and the air smelled of wet iron and rotting timber. They'd once been part of an old magical drainage system, abandoned after a dungeon fragment collapsed decades ago.
Now, some of the fractures had reopened.
Fleck descended cracked stone steps beside a boarded-up cellar. Daylight vanished behind him, replaced by dim blue fungi clinging to the damp walls. The silence was absolute—broken only by the distant drip of water on stone.
He drew his short sword. Sharpened enough for what was coming.
Ahead, the tunnel split in two. Left, stagnant water. Right, recent tracks in the moss: wide steps, heavy heels. Whatever passed here wasn't light—or human.
He moved in silence.
At the third split, he stopped.
Footsteps. Firm. Measured. Echoing down the corridor.
At least two people. Maybe three. Not rats. Too clean. Too steady.
He extinguished his mana lantern. The glow from the fungi was enough. His breath slowed. Muscles relaxed.
And then came the first roar.
The magical explosion hit before the impact.
The ground shook. Loose rocks fell from the ceiling. A wave of blue energy tore through a wall ahead. A body was thrown into view—broad, armored in dark blue leather, his shield split in half. He groaned through gritted teeth but rose to his feet.
Behind him slithered a clawed creature with charred, obsidian-like armor. Its chest pulsed with golden runes—an unstable catalyst. It exhaled cold mist.
The man stood, yelling:
"ROGAR, NOW!"
Fleck moved on instinct.
Another figure charged in—taller, wielding a heavy axe. The strike cracked one of the creature's legs, but it didn't fall. It spun, slashing the first man's arm, and turned to strike again.
Fleck dashed in.
He slid between them and thrust his blade beneath the joint between shell and rib. Black, thick blood burst out. The creature screeched, its body glowing briefly—magical overload.
"Back!" Fleck shouted.
They moved without hesitation.
The beast exploded, blasting mana and fragments across the room.
When the dust settled, the three of them were kneeling, coughing.
"Who the hell are you?" growled the man with the axe—shaved head, tense jaw.
Fleck wiped his face with the back of his arm.
"Saving you."
"He saved your ass, Drakar," said the other, pressing a bloody gash on his arm.
Drakar snorted but didn't argue.
The second man—broad-shouldered, clear-eyed—offered a hand.
"Rogar. That idiot's my brother. You?"
"Fleck."
"Here alone?"
"Came for unstable cores. Unofficial tip."
Rogar nodded, gaze sharp and calm.
"Same reason we're here. Found three catalysts so far. But that thing… wasn't normal."
"No," Fleck agreed, eyeing the remains. "Fused creature. Half shell, half living mana. You don't see those outside corrupted dungeons."
Drakar spun his axe and let it rest on the floor.
"You fight well. Fast. But could've gotten yourself killed too."
"So could you."
Silence.
Then Rogar spoke.
"No point splitting up now. These things are coming from everywhere. We're not enough, even together."
Fleck hesitated. He avoided groups for a reason—no one fought like you expected. But these two didn't hesitate. Didn't flinch. They were rough, but coordinated.
"Three cores. Split evenly," Fleck said. "No leader. No chain of command. Just until we're out."
Rogar nodded.
Drakar crossed his arms.
"You slow me down, I leave you."
"You hesitate, I'll pass you."
For a heartbeat, they stared each other down. Then Drakar smirked—dry, like metal against stone.
"Fair."
The next chambers were worse.
Three more fused beasts emerged from fissures in the walls. One nearly dragged Drakar into a side tunnel, but Fleck rammed his blade into its deformed skull before its jaws closed.
Rogar blocked the heavier strikes with his body—forceful and calculated. Drakar moved like a charging wall, shattering ribs and carving paths. Fleck danced between them, striking weak points, severing joints.
The synergy wasn't practiced. But it was real.
After the fourth fight, Fleck collapsed to one knee, drenched in sweat. A notification blinked.
+78 XP
XP: 340 / 300
You reached Level 4!
+3 attribute points gained
Unstable Core (Rare) obtained
He invested the points:
+2 Dexterity
+1 Endurance
His hands still trembled, but the cuts were cleaner.
Lighter.
Rogar walked over, holding a glowing core.
"We're alive."
"For now," Drakar muttered.
"These are worth more than three silvers each," Fleck added, tucking his crystal away.
They exited through a crack leading into an old shaft. Ropes still hung from the timbers above. Climbing was painful, but they emerged near an abandoned warehouse thick with rust and dust.
Outside, dusk had already set in.
None of them spoke for a while. Each one cleaned his weapon in silence.
Drakar was the first to break it, eyes fixed on Fleck.
"Didn't think a rat-faced stray could slice through those things without pissing himself."
Fleck raised a brow.
"You screamed first."
Rogar laughed.
"Whatever you say, I'd fight beside either of you again. No question."
Drakar looked at his brother. Then at Fleck. Then spoke, resting the axe on his shoulder:
"If you ever need a wall… you know where to find one."
Fleck looked at both of them. Said nothing.
Just nodded.
Then, each took a different path out of the ruins.
But they knew.
This wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.