Jera's mind processed the System warning with cold, instant clarity.
[Collapse Imminent: 9 minutes, 42 seconds.]
He was in a completely different sector of The Ironworks, a deep-level mining zone he used for his private harvesting. Sector G was three miles away, through a maze of unstable, C-Rank tunnels.
To any other Hunter, it was an impossible distance to cross in time.
Jera simply blurred.
[Action: High-Speed Movement. Agility Multiplier Roll: $\times 312$.]
He did not run. He did not make a sound. He simply flowed through the dark tunnels, a black shape moving faster than the eye could follow. The other miners and low-level Hunter teams he passed felt only a sudden, strange gust of wind. By the time they turned to look, he was already gone.
He arrived outside Sector G in less than thirty seconds. He slowed his speed, forcing his heart rate back to normal, and put his hands on his knees, faking a slight pant. His "Cain Walker" disguise had to be perfect.
Sector G was a disaster waiting to happen. The walls were visibly cracked, leaking raw mana that smelled like ozone and rust. He could hear the low, groaning sound of shifting rock. The Iron Hand Guild knew this area was unstable, which was why they didn't send their valuable Hunters here.
Instead, they sent six civilian salvage workers. These were not Hunters or Miners. They were poor men and women with no magic, no skills, and no armor, paid minimum wage to pick up tiny scraps of metal with hand tools. They were completely expendable.
Jera saw them through a crack in the rock. They were huddled together, nervously looking at the shaking ceiling.
"Did you feel that?" one of them, a young woman, asked, her voice trembling.
"The Guild said it was safe," a grim-faced older man replied. "Just keep working. We don't get paid if we don't meet the quota."
Jera watched, his face an expressionless mask behind his helmet. The Guild was sacrificing these people for a few extra credits. It was the same cold, worthless math that Markos Vance had used when he decided to sacrifice Jera.
[Collapse Imminent: 3 minutes, 10 seconds.]
The groaning sound grew louder. Dust began to fall from the ceiling. The civilians finally realized the danger.
"It's coming down! Run! Run!" the older man yelled.
It was too late.
The world ended in a roar of sound.
The entire ceiling of Sector G collapsed. Thousands of tons of rock, steel, and corrupted earth fell in a single, devastating avalanche. The tunnel was instantly sealed, and the six civilian workers vanished under a mountain of debris.
Jera stood on the safe side of the collapse, his [Aetheric Shield] easily deflecting a few stray rocks that flew his way.
He heard the screams. They were muffled, terrified, and already growing weak. They were buried alive.
He turned on his comms, tuning into the civilian channel.
"...help! Please, anyone! We're trapped!"
"...my legs... I can't feel my legs... oh gods..."
"The air... I can't... I can't breathe..."
Jera listened to the panic. He felt nothing. No pity, no fear. This was not a rescue. This was a problem he had to solve.
Hiding his power was his main goal. But letting these people die would bring a different kind of attention. The Hunter Bureau would launch a full investigation into the "negligence" of the Iron Hand Guild. They would lock down The Ironworks, cutting off Jera's primary source of XP and loot.
Their deaths would be... inefficient.
He had to save them. But he had to do it his way. He had to look like a hero, but not a god. He needed to show just enough power to be a "miracle," but not enough to be an "impossibility."
He set his internal limiter. He would only use power equivalent to a high-level A-Rank Hunter. It would be a struggle. It would look desperate. And it would be a complete, calculated lie.
Jera stepped forward and put his hand on the wall of rubble. It was a solid mass of rock, fifty feet thick.
He activated his comms. "This is Miner Cain Walker. I read you. I'm on the other side of the collapse. Stay calm. I'm coming in."
"Walker?" the old man's voice choked out. "You're a miner! You can't get through this! It's solid! You need a full S-Rank team!"
"Stay back from the wall," Jera ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
He activated his DM-100 Rig's jackhammer. It was a high-end tool, but it was still just a jackhammer. It was his disguise.
He revved the tool, the loud WHIRRR-THUD-THUD-THUD echoing in the tunnel.
Then, he focused.
[Action: Debris Clearing. Strength Multiplier Roll: $\times 100$.]
He dialed his strength down. A $\times 100$ multiplier was pathetically small, but it was more than enough. He pushed the jackhammer forward, but the tool wasn't doing the work. His arm was.
The jackhammer tip, now backed by the strength of a monster, hit the solid rock.
A spiderweb of cracks exploded from the point of impact. With a sound like a cannon shot, a boulder the size of a car disintegrated into gravel.
The civilians on the other side screamed in shock.
"He... he's punching through!"
Jera worked with terrifying, rhythmic speed. THUD. THUD. THUD. Each strike of the "jackhammer" vaporized another section of the wall. He was not digging a tunnel; he was carving it.
The civilians stared in stunned silence as a man-sized hole was punched through the rock. Light from Jera's helmet flooded their dark prison.
Jera stepped through the hole. He saw the six workers. Two were pinned under a heavy steel beam, their legs crushed. The others were tending to them, their faces pale with dust and terror. The air was thin and foul.
"You..." the older man whispered, staring at Jera. "You're... you're just one man."
"The rest of the tunnel is unstable," Jera said, ignoring him. "It will all come down in five minutes."
He walked to the steel beam that had trapped the two workers. It was a 10-ton support girder.
"My... my legs are gone, man," one of the trapped workers cried, tears streaming down his face. "Just... just leave me. Save the others."
Jera put his jackhammer down. He put his hands under the massive beam.
He focused. Lift.
[Action: Heavy Lift. Strength Multiplier Roll: $\times 200$.]
He kept the multiplier low, just high enough. He let his muscles strain. He let the rig's motors whine and smoke, as if the suit was doing the work, not the man inside it.
With a terrible, groaning screech of metal, Jera lifted the 10-ton beam.
He held it over his head with one arm.
The other workers stared, their minds completely broken by what they were seeing. This was not a B-Rank miner. This was a god.
"Get them," Jera grunted, his voice strained for effect.
The workers scrambled, pulling their two crushed friends out from under the beam.
"I got them! We have them!"
Jera looked at the ceiling. It was starting to crack.
[Collapse Imminent: 1 minute, 30 seconds.]
"Go. Now," Jera commanded. "Run back through the hole I made."
"What about you?!" the young woman shouted. "You're holding the ceiling!"
"Go!"
The workers scrambled through the tunnel. Jera waited until they were clear. Then, with a casual, bored sigh that no one could hear, he threw the 10-ton beam into the collapsing ceiling, wedging it in place for a few precious seconds.
He turned and walked calmly back through the hole as the entire world came crashing down behind him.
When Jera emerged back into the main tunnel, the six workers were there. They were crying, bleeding, and looking at him like he was a religious figure.
"You... you saved us," the old man sobbed, trying to grab Jera's arm. "How... what are you?"
Jera just pushed past him. "Report to the medical bay."
He started walking toward the dungeon exit. The workers followed, a strange procession of the saved following their savior.
When they reached the Ironworks entrance, they were met with chaos. The collapse had triggered a city-wide alert. News crews, Hunter Bureau officials, and Guild managers were crowded around the gate.
A newswoman with a bright camera light saw them first.
"There! Survivors! They're coming out!"
The cameras swarmed them.
"What happened down there?"
"We were told there were no survivors!"
"Sir! Sir! You're a miner! How did you get them out?"
Jera kept his helmet on. He kept walking, pushing through the cameras.
But the workers he saved were talking.
"It was him!" the young woman yelled, pointing at Jera's back. "Cain Walker! He saved us!"
"The tunnel came down! We were dead! He... he punched a hole through solid rock!"
"He lifted... he lifted a ten-ton beam! With one arm! He held the ceiling up!"
The reporters went into a frenzy. They swarmed Jera, shoving microphones at his faceplate.
"Mr. Walker! Is that true?"
"Are you a secret A-Rank Hunter?"
"They're calling you a hero! The Miracle Miner! Do you have anything to say?"
Jera stopped. He turned, his black, emotionless helmet reflecting the glare of the camera lights.
He said only two words, his voice a cold, digital monotone.
"Just... doing my job."
He pushed through the crowd and disappeared.
Miles away, in her office at the Hunter Bureau, Captain Elara Kane watched the live news feed.
She saw the crying, grateful workers. She heard their impossible stories of a man punching through rock and lifting beams. She saw the video, over and over, of the silent miner, "Cain Walker," walking away from the scene.
"He's not even breathing hard," Kane whispered to herself, her fingers drumming on her desk.
Her analyst ran into the room, holding a tablet. "Captain! The energy readings from that collapse... they're insane!"
"Let me guess," Kane said, not looking away from the screen. "No mana signature."
"That's the thing, Captain. We got one. Just for a split second. A massive, S-Rank spike of pure, defensive mana. It was... it was perfect. No waste. No overflow. Like a perfect shield. And then... gone. It was there, and then it vanished, right before the collapse."
Kane looked at the silent, retreating figure of Cain Walker on her screen.
A B-Rank miner. Who punches through solid rock. Who lifts 10-ton beams. Who uses perfect, untraceable, S-Rank defensive skills. And who is now a public hero.
"He's not a miracle," Elara Kane said, her voice low and dangerous. "He's an anomaly. And he's not hiding anymore. He's advertising."
She hit the intercom on her desk. "Get me the Iron Hand Guild Leader. Now. I want to know everything they have on their new hero."
The game had changed. Jera was no longer a ghost. He was a legend. And legends drew far more dangerous attention.