Veila stepped forward, clearly concerned.
"Kryd'or, this wasn't your fault! It was an accident. We monitored that dent for months. You can't—"
Kryd'or cut her off with a flat, unyielding tone.
"The deaths of thousands are not merely accidents without fault."
Veila fell silent, the words strangled where they died. Barduk, who had been ready with another retort, held back, the humor draining from his face. Miel's eyes remained cold; he inclined his head toward Kryd'or once and then said, voice clipped, "We must move. Our troops need help."
Kryd'or nodded once, brief and decisive.
"Prepare your legions to depart. Move now."
The commanders dispersed to carry out the order. The platform filled again with the low sounds of preparation, armor straps tightened, weapons checked, and grieving hands folded on wrappings for the dead.
Kryd'or walked to the gates. With each step his golden eyes flared brighter. His three-meter frame seemed to draw the space in around him; the air thinned and pressure tightened, making the gravity feel heavier as if the platform itself pressed down against him. A subtle electric charge crawled across his scales, small currents sparking along his arms and neck.
He stopped before the massive slabs. Energy gathered around his body, coiling and humming. Kryd'or pressed both scaled hands to the gate's cold metal. The power he held surged outward in a sudden torrent, a concentrated burst that struck the gate's surface.
Technological sigils etched across the gate responded. Lines of light kindled, washing the symbols in a bluish glow. The platform answered in kind; a pale, shifting luminescence spread across its surface, casting everything in a faint, otherworldly blue. It was the sign that the teleportation sequence had begun.
"Rooaarrr!!!"
Kryd'or drew in a guttural, dragon-deep roar and poured the last of his force into the gate. The slabs groaned. Metal protested with a long, echoing creak that rolled through the hall and the pillars like distant thunder.
The gates gave. They parted with a grinding, resonant cry.
Without pause, the survivors surged forward. They moved into the shimmering rift that opened between floors. One by one, the battered troops stepped into the portal and vanished into the bluish light.
After the last draconic warrior vanished into the bluish light, the portal flickered, thinned, and collapsed on itself with a soft implosion of particles. The glow beneath the platform dimmed at once.
The gates, relieved of the force that held them open, began to close slowly. Their movement was heavy and inevitable, each inch grinding with the weight of ages. The slabs met with a final, deep creak that rolled across the floor like the toll of a giant bell.
Dong.
The sound echoed along the massive corridor, bouncing off the distant pillars and disappearing into darkness. It felt like the end of a path, sealed, final, and absolute.
Or so they believed.
Silence settled over the ancient platform. No footsteps, no voices, and no clashing steel. Only the faint, distant screeching of insects beyond the invisible boundary. Their scraping and hissing pressed against the barrier, but none dared cross.
The safe zone held.
For now, the rest was swallowed by stillness.
...
The twenty-sixth floor was already close to being fully charted. Roughly eighty percent of its terrain, structures, and known hazards had been explored during the past months of constant movement by thousands of draconic explorers. What remained untouched was the western section, where a massive exit gate was believed to be located, and a small, irregular area in the lower south that had never revealed anything large enough to house such a structure. Because of this, the army was confident that the gate could only be in the west. The southern section was too narrow and too exposed for something as enormous as the ancient gate to exist without being noticed long before.
This earlier deduction became the one stroke of luck the draconic people had when disaster struck. The moment the ceiling at the upper north caved in and a wide breach appeared, the portal leading back to the surface vanished without warning. Insects poured out of the rupture in overwhelming numbers, and anyone still inside the floor had no way to retreat. The only direction left was forward, and because they already knew where the exit should be, the main group was able to push toward the west before the horde fully filled the area.
However, not everyone managed to reach them. Several teams and individuals stationed or exploring near the southern part were caught too far away. When they attempted to regroup with the main force, the advancing wave of insects from the north cut off every path leading back. With the northern routes sealed and the western push already underway, the separated draconic people had no choice but to cluster together with others who were also stranded in the same region. Surrounded and unable to follow the main group, they retreated toward the only remaining path. An unexplored section in the south whose details and dangers were unknown.
...
"Right flank, hold your ground!"
"Left flank, compress!"
"Do not falter! There's still hope!"
A blue draconic woman shouted orders at the top of her lungs while swinging her energized bluish sword in wide, controlled arcs. Each slash cut through the nearest insects with a sharp, electric hiss, leaving faint trails of light where the blade passed. Her voice cut through the clatter of chitin and the steady hum of energy, pushing her fighters to hold their ground and keep the line intact. They formed a defensive ring around another group stationed at the ancient wall, shielding them from the swarm trying to force its way in.
The group at the wall worked with tight focus, their hands running across ancient symbols and technological patterns carved deep into the stone. The carvings circled a recessed, circular structure that looked like a sealed mechanism. Its rings and segments hinted at movement, and the scholars believed it might serve as a passage or hidden route. They repeatedly checked markings, compared interpretations, and brushed dust from grooves. Hours had passed since they first arrived, and despite their nonstop attempt to decipher the symbols, they still hadn't found any clue to activate it. Meanwhile, the swarm continued to grow thicker, pressing harder against the fighters' perimeter.
Their combined forces had dwindled drastically. The Serpar and Drakon legionnaires had roughly twenty fighters left each. The Brakkan legion had only thirteen remaining, and the Urdu legion had been reduced to only three survivors. Not long ago, their numbers had exceeded more than a hundred across all legions. The relentless fighting and constant retreats had carved their forces down to what remained now.
Scouts and messengers moved between the lines, delivering short, clipped reports. One of the green draconians called out from a shadowed alcove, voice damped but urgent.
"Any progress on your side?"
Another green answered from the eastern flank, fingers stained with dust.
"Still nothing. The patterns link, but the mechanism stays inactive."
A third voice, thin and hoarse, added, "We found a hairline seam under the lower ring..."
On the fighters' side, wounded soldiers and runners reported directly to the blue draconic woman. A Drakon sergeant, panting and streaked with dust, dropped into a kneel.
"Your Highness, Drakon lost two more... Three seriously wounded."
Another delivered the Serpar legion's count. A third listed the dwindling numbers of the Brakan and Urdu. Each report made her expression tighten. The weight of the situation accumulated in her chest as she stared at the tightening circle of defenders.
The sound of the insects swelled again as more poured into the area. The fighters had to brace themselves repeatedly, pushing the creatures back only to lose ground moments later. Every minute drained more energy from them. The blue draconic woman saw the scholars struggling at the wall and understood the implication of the reports: the only chance of buying more time would be for someone with high energy output to act as a lure and pull the swarm away. She inhaled slowly and steeled herself, knowing what sacrifice that plan demanded.
Before she could take any irreversible step, the carvings along the circular structure began to glow. A pale bluish light crawled along the grooves and filigree, bathing the nearby faces and armor in cold luminescence. The illumination spread in a slow, deliberate sweep, and the woman turned her head toward the wall. She saw members of the Brakkan clustered near the device, their hands pressed against the outer ring, their eyes wide with strained concentration. Finally, the green draconians had succeeded in activating the structure.
...
The moment the carvings lit up, Fera wasted no time. She stepped forward, raised her sword high so everyone could see her, and shouted over the swarm and the echoing hum of the awakened mechanism. Her voice cut clean through the chaos.
"Everyone, focus! The path is opening! We still have a way out, do not falter now!"
The soldiers responded with a sharp rise of energy, their weary expressions tightening into something determined. A scattered roar spread across the mixed legions, a raw release of relief and desperation as they clung to the hope she had just given them.
Mechanical clicks echoed around them as the circular structure began to shift. The rings rotated in coordinated pulses, each movement releasing heavier, lower thuds that vibrated through the wall. Segments slid apart in exact sequencing, unlocking one layer after another. After a brief pause, one final deep click, the structure split open vertically, the upper half rising while the lower half lowered into the floor. A dark, yawning passage revealed itself beneath the splitting mechanism, its interior completely unlit.
Seeing the opening, Fera pointed her sword toward the passage.
"Move! All units, fall back inside! Do not hesitate!"
The command rang out with absolute authority, and the survivors obeyed immediately. Fighters repositioned themselves while supporting the wounded, pushing as a single group toward the revealed escape route.
Once inside the passage, the absence of light became immediately apparent. Unlike the rest of the twenty-sixth floor, where faint white illumination always radiated naturally from the towering ceiling, this corridor swallowed every trace of brightness. The darkness thickened the deeper they went, quickly overtaking even draconic low-light vision.
Fera raised her voice again, her tone firm.
"Do not go further down. Hold your positions near the entrance. We cannot risk moving blind."
Her words carried through the cramped space as the last soldiers stepped inside. She ordered the frontline fighters to form a defensive line just several meters from the opening.
"This entrance is only ten meters wide. We can hold them here easier than outside. Brace yourselves and guard this point!"
The soldiers adjusted immediately, forming ranks and setting weapons toward the opening. Their silhouettes were barely visible except for faint reflections on their scales. They whispered to each other, steadying their nerves as they prepared for another wave of insects.
Before anyone could speak further, a green draconian near the very edge of the entrance shouted suddenly, his voice rising with shock.
"Your Highness! Look—look at this!"
He pointed toward the open threshold. Insects swarmed against it from outside, yet none of them crossed the invisible line. They piled up, crawled over each other, and shrieked at the opening, but the moment they tried to advance even a claw-length inside, they recoiled sharply as if pushed back by an unseen barrier.
"They can't enter!" the green drake yelled again, stepping closer in disbelief.
"It's just like the protected zones on the other floors!"
...