Silence was a rare commodity in the mines. There was always the ring of iron, the crack of whips, or the wheezing of dying men. But around Rat, a bubble of quiet had formed.
It had been three days since he folded Krog like a wet towel.
Rat stood at his usual spot in Gallery 4, swinging his pickaxe with a rhythm that was deceptive. To an observer, he looked like he was struggling, his thin frame jerking with every impact. In reality, he was barely exerting himself. The density of his muscles, reinforced by the Earth Mana, turned the heavy pickaxe into a toy. He was panting for show, sweating on command.
Deception is the armor of the weak, Rat thought, his eyes scanning the periphery.
The other slaves gave him a wide berth. Even Krog, who had returned to the line with a bruised ego and a dark bruise on his chest, refused to make eye contact. The hierarchy of the Kennel had shifted, but Rat had not claimed the throne. He didn't demand extra rations. He didn't take the best sleeping spot. He remained a ghost, terrifying precisely because his ambition was invisible.
But invisibility has a limit when the spotlight is forced upon you.
"Number 7!"
The shout came from the tunnel entrance. It wasn't Grol. The voice was cleaner, sharper—the accent of the Surface.
Rat stopped swinging. He turned slowly.
A group of men stood at the entrance of the gallery. Grol was there, looking sweaty and nervous, wringing his hands. Beside him stood a man who didn't belong in the dark.
He wore armor of polished steel, engraved with sun motifs—the insignia of the Solari Empire. A white cloak, impossibly clean amidst the coal dust, hung from his shoulders. His hand rested on the pommel of a longsword that hummed with faint magic.
A Knight. A true instrument of the Empire's will.
"That's him, Sir Valerius," Grol stammered, pointing a shaking finger at Rat. "The one who... who was closest to the explosion."
Valerius stepped forward. His boots crunched on the gravel. He looked at Rat not as a human being, but as a biological specimen.
"Step forward, slave," Valerius commanded. His voice was bored, arrogant.
Rat approached, lowering his head, hunching his shoulders to exaggerate his small stature.
"You survived the contact with the Sub-Terran entity," Valerius said, his nose wrinkling at the smell of the mine. "Overseer Grol claims you possess an uncanny luck."
"Just luck, my lord," Rat rasped. "I hid behind a cart."
Valerius stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. A faint pressure washed over Rat—the Knight's Aura. It was a test. A normal slave would have collapsed from the sheer weight of the killing intent.
Rat felt the pressure. It was like a heavy blanket. But to a [Novice of Iron], it was negligible.
Hold, Rat commanded his own body. Tremble. Show fear.
He forced his knees to knock together. He let a whimper escape his throat.
Valerius smirked, withdrawing his Aura. "Pathetic. But usefulness does not require courage. It requires expendability."
The Knight turned back to Grol. "Assemble the team. This one takes point. If there are more traps, better he triggers them than my men."
Rat's heart didn't race. It slowed.
A suicide squad, he analyzed. They are going down the hole.
The team was assembled within the hour.
It consisted of Valerius, two of his armored squires, Overseer Grol (who looked like he was about to vomit), four expendable guards including Boros, and three slaves: Rat, Krog, and a twitchy man named 'Twigs' who was known for fitting into tight spaces.
They stood at the edge of the crater left by the Deep-Earth Burrower. The hole was a jagged wound in the earth, spiraling down into absolute blackness.
"The Empire requires resources," Valerius announced, adjusting his gauntlets. "The mages believe this creature did not burrow randomly. It was following a mana vein. If there is a high-density crystal deposit down there, it belongs to the Emperor."
Greed, Rat thought. The universal motivator.
"You three," Valerius pointed at the slaves. "Front. Ten paces ahead. If you see something shine, shout. If you see something move, die quietly so we have time to react."
They began the descent.
The tunnel carved by the beast was steep and slick with hardened mucus and cooled glass from the heat of its passage. The air grew hotter with every step, heavy with a metallic taste that coated the tongue.
Rat walked in the lead. He didn't need a torch.
[Monarch's Soul Active.] [Passive Skill: Low-Light Vision.]
The darkness was not black to him; it was a deep, grainy grey. He could see the texture of the walls, the claw marks left by the beast.
But more importantly, he could feel the pulse.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was louder here. The vibration traveled up through the soles of his bare feet, resonating with the Earth Mana he had absorbed. It wasn't just a sound; it was a beckoning.
Behind him, Krog was breathing heavily, his terror palpable. The brute who ruled the Kennel was reduced to a shivering child in the face of the unknown.
"Move, filth," a squire shoved Krog from behind.
They descended for what felt like hours. The temperature rose to a stifling degree. Grol had stripped off his tunic, his fat body glistening. Even the Knight, Valerius, was sweating, his pristine composure fraying at the edges.
"The air..." Valerius muttered. "It's dense with mana. Old mana."
Suddenly, the tunnel opened up.
Rat stopped.
They had not reached a nest. They had reached a door.
The tunnel ended abruptly, breaking into a colossal cavern that stretched beyond the light of the torches. The ceiling was lost in shadow. But directly ahead, carved into the living rock of the mountain's roots, was a structure.
It was a gate. Massive, towering fifty feet high, made of a black stone that seemed to drink the light. It was covered in carvings—not the suns and geometric order of the Solari Empire, but jagged, flowing lines. Runes that hurt the eyes to look at.
"By the Light..." Grol whispered. "What is this?"
Valerius stepped forward, his greed replaced by awe. "Ruins. Pre-Dynastic ruins. Do you have any idea what this is worth?"
Rat didn't look at the gate. He looked at the floor.
The ground in front of the gate was littered with bones. Not human bones. The bones of things—large, multi-limbed, monstrous.
The Burrower wasn't a resident, Rat realized, a chill going down his spine despite the heat. It was trying to get in. Or it was trying to get away.
"Open it," Valerius commanded.
Silence followed.
"My lord?" Boros asked, his voice cracking.
"I said open it!" Valerius drew his sword, the blade glowing with white light. "Use the slaves. Check for mechanisms."
Rat, Krog, and Twigs were shoved forward.
They walked across the bone-strewn floor toward the black gate. The pressure here was immense. The air felt like static electricity.
Rat approached the stone. Up close, the carvings seemed to writhe.
[Analysis Initiated.] [Object: The Abyssal Gate (Sealed).] [Enchantment Level: 7th Circle (Ancient).] [Status: Degraded. Structural integrity at 12%.]
Seventh Circle? Rat's mind reeled. The strongest mages in the Solari Empire were rumored to be 5th Circle. This was the work of gods or monsters.
"Push!" Krog grunted, throwing his shoulder against the massive slab. Twigs joined him, pushing uselessly.
Rat placed his hands on the cold black stone.
He didn't push. He listened.
The flow of mana, Rat observed. It's a circuit. A lock.
He could see the lines of blue energy coursing through the stone, invisible to the others. The lock wasn't physical; it was magical. And it was broken.
The "keyhole" was leaking. That was the source of the mana the Burrower had sensed.
"It won't budge!" Krog yelled back at the Knight.
"Try harder, or I'll cut your legs off!" Valerius shouted, losing patience.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The heartbeat stopped.
Rat froze.
From the other side of the gate—from the inside—a sound emerged. It wasn't a roar. It was the sound of stone grinding on stone. A slow, deliberate scrape.
And then, the Voice spoke. Not in his head this time. In the air.
"WHO... KNOCKS...?"
The sound wave was physical. It knocked Twigs off his feet. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Valerius went pale. "Defensive formation!"
"My lord, we should leave!" Grol squealed, backing away.
"Silence! It speaks Common. It is intelligent," Valerius's eyes gleamed with a dangerous madness. "An intelligent ancient entity. Think of the knowledge. Think of the power."
He stepped forward, raising his voice. "I am Sir Valerius of the Solari Empire! I claim this site in the name of the Sun Emperor! Identify yourself!"
The silence that followed was heavy with mockery.
"SOLARI..." the Voice rumbled, dragging the word out like a curse. "THE CHILDREN... OF THE THIEF."
Thief? Rat noted the word. The Solari claimed to be the bringers of civilization. The first he had heard of them being thieves.
"ENTER... IF... YOU... DARE."
A loud CLICK echoed through the cavern.
The lines of light on the gate turned from blue to a violent, blood red.
Rat's instinct screamed.
[Alert: Mana Surge Detected.] [Trap Mechanism Activated.]
"Run!" Rat whispered.
He didn't wait for Krog. He didn't wait for the guards. He dove to the right, behind a pile of ancient rubble.
The gate didn't open. Instead, the carvings on the surface... peeled off.
Shadows detached themselves from the stone. They weren't made of rock; they were made of condensed darkness and old magic. They took the form of humanoid sentinels, faceless and armed with shadow-blades.
Four of them.
"Kill them!" Valerius screamed, charging forward with his glowing sword.
The battle was instant and brutal.
One of the shadow-sentinels moved. It didn't run; it flickered. One moment it was by the gate, the next it was in front of a squire.
Slash.
The squire's head fell off before his body realized it was dead. There was no blood, only a cauterized stump.
"Demons!" Boros screamed, firing his crossbow. The bolt passed harmlessly through the shadow's chest.
"Physical attacks are ineffective!" Valerius roared, his sword flaring brighter. He slashed at a sentinel, and his blade—imbued with Solari light magic—connected with a hiss of steam. The shadow recoiled, screeching.
"Use magic! Or enchanted arms!"
But only Valerius had magic. The guards had iron. The slaves had nothing.
It was a slaughter.
Twigs was cut in half as he tried to crawl away. Grol was cowering behind Valerius, using the Knight as a human shield.
Rat watched from behind his rock.
Analysis:Enemy: Mana Constructs. Shadow Guardians.Speed: High.Damage: Fatal.Weakness: Light Magic (Confirmed). Mana Disruption (Theoretical).
One of the shadows turned its faceless head toward Rat's hiding spot. It sensed life.
It raised its blade and glided toward him.
Rat looked around. He had no sword. He had no light magic.
But I have Earth.
[Monarch's Soul: Combat Mode.]
The shadow lunged. The blade of darkness swept down to cleave the rock and Rat in two.
Rat didn't retreat. He slammed his hands onto the ground.
Structure. Density. Wall.
He didn't try to create a wall; he didn't have the mana for that. He tried to condense the ground directly in front of him.
He pumped every ounce of his Earth Mana into a single square foot of stone.
Rise.
A sharp stalagmite of granite, reinforced with iron density, shot up from the floor like a spear. It wasn't large—maybe two feet high—but it was perfectly timed.
The shadow's downward momentum met the rising stone.
Impact.
The shadow blade hit the granite. Sparks flew. The stone shattered, but it stopped the blade for a fraction of a second.
That was all Rat needed.
He rolled forward, under the shadow's guard.
These are mana constructs, Rat reasoned. They have a core. A battery.
His eyes, glowing with the violet light of analysis, saw it. A tiny, red rune pulsing in the center of the shadow's chest.
Rat reached out. His hand was not holding a weapon. His hand was the weapon. His fingers were stiffened, hardened into iron claws by his cultivation.
He thrust his hand directly into the shadow's chest.
It felt like plunging his hand into freezing water. The cold burned his skin.
He grabbed the red rune.
"Break," he snarled.
He crushed it.
POP.
The shadow sentinel imploded. It dissolved into wisps of black smoke, leaving Rat kneeling on the ground, his hand smoking and blackened, but whole.
Rat panted, his eyes wide.
I can kill them.
He looked up. The battle was going poorly for the Empire. Valerius was holding off two sentinels, his skills impressive, but he was losing ground. The second squire was dead. Boros and the other guards were dead.
Krog was cornered by the fourth sentinel. The brute was swinging a large rock, screaming in terror. The sentinel raised its blade for the killing stroke.
Rat hesitated.
Let him die. He is an enemy.
But then, a thought occurred. If everyone dies, I am alone with the Knight. The Knight will kill me to keep the secret. I need chaos. I need witnesses.
Rat grabbed a shard of the shattered granite.
He threw it.
The stone missile flew through the air, guided by Rat's unnaturally precise aim. It struck the sentinel attacking Krog in the side of the head. It didn't damage it, but it knocked it off balance.
"Run, you idiot!" Rat shouted.
Krog saw the opening. He didn't fight; he scrambled away, blubbering.
Valerius, seeing the sentinel falter, unleashed a wave of light from his sword. "Solari Slash!"
An arc of white fire swept out, catching the two sentinels he was fighting and the one Rat had distracted. They screeched and dissipated into smoke.
Silence fell again.
Heavy, wheezing silence.
Valerius stood amidst the carnage. His white cloak was shredded. His armor was scored. He looked around, his eyes wild.
"Dead... all dead," he muttered. Then he looked at Rat.
Rat stood slowly, hiding his blackened hand behind his back.
Valerius stared at him. "You. The shadow... it dissipated. What did you do?"
Rat's mind raced. He couldn't reveal the mana crush.
"I... I threw a rock, my lord," Rat said, pitching his voice to sound terrified. "I think... I think the light from your sword hit it at the same time. You saved me."
Valerius blinked. His ego, desperate for validation, latched onto the explanation.
"Yes..." Valerius straightened, sheathing his sword. "My technique. It has a wide area of effect. You are lucky to be alive, slave."
Valerius turned back to the gate. It was still closed. The red lights were fading. The trap had reset.
"We need to report this," Valerius said, his voice trembling slightly. "This is... beyond a scouting mission. We need an army."
He turned to leave.
"Move out. You carry the gear."
Rat nodded. He walked over to where the dead squire lay and picked up a heavy pack. As he did, he glanced back at the gate.
The Voice did not speak again.
But as Rat turned away, he felt a sensation. A cold, ghostly touch on the back of his neck.
And a single word, whispered directly into his mind, bypassing his ears entirely.
"...Worthy..."
Rat didn't flinch. He adjusted the pack and followed the Knight back toward the tunnel.
He had survived the ruins. He had killed a magic construct. And now, he had the attention of something that called the Empire "thieves."
As they began the long climb up, Rat smiled in the dark.
The board is getting larger, he thought. And I am no longer a pawn.