Sarah's boots slammed into wet stone as she sprinted the final stretch, the glow of the stolen vase still clutched in her hand like a brand. Her blood was hot and her breath was ragged, but the gate was finally in sight — open, flickering torchlight beyond it, and Jace waving her forward like his arm was about to fall off.
"MOVE!" he shouted. "Come on, come on, come on!"
Mira was halfway through already, supporting Theo with one arm, dragging him out into the tunnel — his head was bobbing, eyes fluttering, but still breathing.
Sarah stumbled the last few feet, ribs burning, just as Jace shoved her through the wide wooden gate.
She barely got her balance back before he grabbed the inner gate bar and yanked it shut behind her.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, wheeling around.
"Buying us time," he said — short, clipped — as he slammed the metal latch back into place and jammed the thick horizontal bar down across the hinges.
"Jace—!"
"Go. I'll catch up!"
Lizardfolk voices were already rising behind them — barking, clashing, fast footfalls closing in. Shadows stretched across the walls of the village behind him as the crocodile destroyed it. Already the cavern was shaking.
Jace didn't run.
Instead, he turned — and grabbed the broken log he'd dragged into position earlier.
With a roar, he swung it into the gate's lock mechanism, cracking the metal frame and warping the hinge. The gate shuddered and jammed visibly — not broken or permanent, but enough.
Enough to buy a few minutes.
Jace vaulted up onto the support struts, scrambling awkwardly but fast — pulled himself over the top edge of the wall just as a javelin slammed into the wood where his leg had been.
Then he was gone over the top. Sarah ran to catch up to Mira and Theo.
She moved back through the tunnel, barely aware of her own feet as she kept her eyes on the outer edge. Mira was up ahead, Theo slung half across her back, her bow still in hand, breathing hard.
Sarah turned just in time to see a figure fall from the top of the palisade wall.
Jace hit the ground hard, landing with a thud and a roll, his momentum carrying him half off the smoothed path. He grunted in pain — then got up, limping but moving.
Sarah sprinted back, grabbed his other arm, and together they stumbled after Mira.
Behind them, the gate shuddered as lizardfolk slammed into it, voices rising in confusion and fury.
The tunnel sloped downward, water slicking the stone floor beneath their boots. Their footsteps echoed — rapid, unsteady, overlapping — the only sounds louder than their breath. Behind them, somewhere above, the world was coming apart, one monstrous roar and splintered stone wall at a time.
Jace let out a short, sharp laugh — half relief, half delirium. "We actually did it," he said, stumbling a little under Theo's weight. "We actually— I can't believe we—"
"Don't jinx it," Sarah muttered as she struggles to keep up.
Her face was pale. One temple streaked in blood. She still clutched the glowing vase like a relic, knuckles white on the narrow neck. She had found a way to cap it somewhere in her run but the light still leaked though lighting their way. Her other hand pressed to her ribs where she had been sliced during the escape.
Mira moved up beside her. "We need to stop," she said quickly. "Now. Theo's barely breathing."
"Not yet," Sarah said. "We need distance first. We don't know how far the lizardfolk will follow, or if there's more down here. We move."
"The arrow—" Mira's voice cracked. "Sarah, the arrow is still in him."
"I know." Sarah snapped back at her.
But they kept moving. The air was changing again — colder, thinner. The tunnel opened wider in places, narrowing in others, but always pushing them forward. It began to slightly slope upward but it was gentle and the path was still smooth.
Then Mira stopped. She turned and physically blocked Sarah in the tunnel.
"No," she said, voice shaking. "We do it now."
Jace froze behind them, breathing hard, one hand steadying Theo.
"Mira—" Sarah started.
"I held him up in the water while that monster rose. I watched him choke on his own blood. I thought he was dead. You don't get to keep gambling on how much longer he lasts."
Sarah stared at her. Mira's eyes were wild — scared, furious, desperate. Her hands trembled, but her stance didn't break.
Sarah stared at Mira — jaw tight, muscles locked — but it was Jace who moved first.
"She's right," he said. "We can't wait."
Sarah turned sharply, glaring. "You—"
"You're bleeding, Sarah." Jace's voice wasn't raised, but it was firm — cutting through the tunnel like steel on stone. "You're losing blood and you're not thinking straight. We have to do this now."
Without waiting for her response, he shifted Theo off his shoulders and gently lowered him to the stone floor. The movement drew a faint groan from Theo — the first sound he'd made since they'd escaped.
"Sarah," Jace said without looking up, "the vase."
Sarah stood frozen for a second longer — then moved. She knelt beside them, uncorking the container, the warm glow of the liquid casting strange shadows across the cave wall.
Jace turned Theo carefully onto his side. The arrow had punched clean through, the wicked broadhead protruding slightly from his back. Blood clung to it, sluggish and dark.
"Hold him," Jace said.
Mira knelt too, steadying Theo's shoulders with shaking hands.
Jace didn't hesitate. He wrapped his fingers around the broadhead, braced, and pulled — not slow just certain. The shaft slid free with a wet sound from his back, and Theo jerked in Mira's arms with a sharp gasp of pain. Jace began bleeding freely from his hand where the sharp head had cut into him but he ignored it.
"Now!" Jace barked.
Sarah immediately poured a stream of the glowing liquid over the open wound, the viscous potion hissing slightly where it met torn flesh. The blood stopped flowing almost instantly. Muscle began to knit.
Then, with hands still trembling, Sarah tilted the vase toward his mouth and coaxed a small sip past his lips.
Theo's head lolled slightly in Mira's grip, breath hitching. Sarah held the vase steady and coaxed another small sip into his mouth. His throat worked slowly — once, twice — and then he went still again.
Sarah looked up sharply. "Why isn't he waking—"
"He will," Jace said, already standing. His leg was bleeding again — a long slice from where he'd landed hard coming off the palisade — and his hand was still dripping from where the arrowhead bit deep into his palm.
"You next," he added, pointing to Sarah. "You're barely upright."
She hesitated, but only for a second. She took a cautious sip. Her face twisted — bitter, metallic, warm — but within moments, the color began returning to her cheeks. The cut along her ribs stopped bleeding. She exhaled, just once, shoulders finally dropping half an inch.
Jace held out his own hand. "Now me."
Sarah poured some of the potion over his palm, and the torn skin sealed almost instantly, the ache in his leg dulling beneath the surface hum of power. He took the vase and took a long sip of the vile concoction struggling to get it down.
Their notifications blinked into view at almost the same time.
Jace blinked. "Okay. That's…dam."
Sarah's eyes widened. "Mira. You need to drink this."
Mira, still holding Theo's head with one hand, grimaced as Jace offered her the vase. "Are you kidding? I'm not drinking dead centaur blood and who knows what else!"
Jace shoved the vase into her hands. "Drink.Now."
"Ew—no, I'm fine, I didn't get hit—"
"It's not for healing." Sarah cut in. "Don't argue."
Behind them, something cracked. Stone shifting. The unmistakable sound of claws scrabbling on damp rock. Voices echoing. The lizardfolk were coming.
Theo groaned suddenly, coughing and twitching. "...stupid cave... bite me..."
Jace dropped beside him, slinging Theo's arm over his shoulder as Sarah took the other side. "Can you run?"
"Don't make me answer that," Theo muttered, but his legs moved under him — shaky, but moving.
Mira stared at the glowing potion like it had personally offended her.
"Now, Mira!" Jace snapped, lighting one of the torches he'd stolen from the lizard den. Fire sparked to life, throwing flickering shadows down the tunnel. "We are out of time."
Mira gagged once, squeezed her eyes shut, and tipped the vase back.
The taste was worse than she'd imagined — salt and rust and something living. Her whole body shivered. She lowered it with a sputter, coughing.
"Gods, that's vile," she croaked.
"Yeah," Sarah said. "But you'll thank us later."
"Not likely." was her only remark.
But Mira was already moving, catching up behind them. She capped the concoction and carried it with her.
And together, the four of them fled deeper into the tunnel, the light from Jace's torch bouncing wildly across the dark stone as the sound of pursuit grew louder behind them.
The sky was still dark, but the sun would begin to rise soon.
Harold sat in darkness in his quarters after a night of troubled sleep. The Lord's Hall was still quiet. He could hear his guards outside shuffling sometimes, and the kitchen was just starting to warm up.
His shirt clung to his back with sweat, breath tight as he moved through the final sequence of his mana drills. Energy pulsed through his limbs — brief, controlled — as he channeled mana through different circuits, isolating flow and function. A centering act.
His hands were pinned beneath his thighs, trying to still the shaking. He hadn't slept. Not really.
Not after nothing came back from Sarah's team.
The silence had eaten at him. He'd scoured the maps — what few they had. Re-read every report. Replayed every instruction he'd given her. A loop of decisions that churned in his gut like sour wine.
They should've checked in.
He exhaled. Closed his hands. Let the mana fade.
Then—Chime.
A soft pulse echoed in his mind, followed by the glow of system light behind his eyes.
[NOTIFICATION: Your Territory has discovered a Region Boss.]
[ENTITY: The Thresher King]
[Perk Gained: Instinctive Dread (Uncommon)
+5% awareness when within 1km of a Region Boss.
Harold sat absolutely still.
Didn't blink.
The shaking worsened. It wasn't adrenaline now. It was something older and colder — crawling up his spine.
They found it.
The timing… it made sense. They hadn't checked in because they couldn't. Something had happened. If they were still moving in the dark. It had to be bad.
The system didn't grant region boss perks for vague sightings. For this to trigger, Sarah's team had to be in direct proximity.
They'd seen it.
Maybe worse.
Outside, the settlement was starting to stir. Dim voices from the outer courtyards. The low clatter of buckets. The rhythmic knock of boots on wood and stone.
Today, the village was supposed to finish the Guild Hall. Shingles on the roof. Partition walls inside. The vault was waiting on the blacksmiths to finish the final locking mechanisms.
It all seemed so stupidly mundane now.
Harold sat in the quiet a little longer. The system light still glowed faint in his vision.
He leaned back and stared at the beams above, jaw tight.
"Godsdammit, Sarah," he muttered.
But under the words — pride.
And fear.
And anger.
He'd sent her out there. He'd made the call. The logic was sound — she was close, she was capable, she had the best chance of making it. There hadn't been another choice.
But that didn't matter now. Because all he could feel was the slow, crushing realization that he might have just lost her again.
And worse — he might have done it to her.
Harold clenched his fists, trying to quiet the shaking. It didn't work. His thoughts spiraled. Sarah's last words to him. The memories of his first life. A quiet lab in a quiet village. His passionless marriage. The long silence after she died. The mistakes. His wife leaving. The obsession that followed.
The things he did in the name of discovery. Of science.
He stood. Crossed the room. Opened the door to the hallway — pale fire light casting long shadows on the stone floor.
One of the guards stood to attention.
"Get Beth," Harold rasped. His voice felt foreign in his throat.
Then he shut the door again and sank back down onto the floor, back pressed to the wall.
The door opened fast. Boots on stone. A sharp breath.
Beth swept into the room with one of the guards a step behind her, eyes scanning the space— and froze when she saw Harold.
He was still on the floor. Back against the wall. Shoulders hunched forward, hands dug into his knees to stop the tremors. The faint glow of the system screen still hovered near him — dim now, fading.
He looked up at her briefly. And that was enough.
Beth's face softened immediately, the kind of softness that didn't come from pity — but understanding. She didn't ask what he was doing on the floor. She didn't say his name. Her mouth tightened, and she turned toward the guard instead.
"Go get food. Something hot. For both of us," she said, voice calm but quick. "Find Margret and let her know Harold needs her upstairs when she has a moment. No panic. Just let her know."
The guard hesitated.
Beth added, "And send for Josh. Please."
The guard gave a short nod and turned.
She waited until the door shut again.
Then she crossed the room quietly and sat down next to him. Not stiff. Not formal. Just lowered herself until her shoulder was against the wall beside his.
She didn't speak for a second. Let the silence settle.
Then, gently:
"For all you seem to try to hide it, for all that you have been through," Beth said softly, "you are still human."
She glanced sideways at him, voice low. "Talk to me, Harold."
Harold stared ahead — not at the room, not at Beth. Through it.
He didn't answer her right away. The tension in his body was so tight it barely looked like he was breathing. Then slowly, like something inside him cracked just enough, he spoke.
"She was the only part of my life that felt real," he said quietly. "Back then."
"I was a bad brother to her before Gravesend, then we clutched each other when this all happened. We traveled together for years. I got to see her grow up and see the amazing woman she grew into."
Beth didn't respond, she just waited patiently.
"I wasn't… anyone," he continued. "Not really. Just a half-talented alchemist in a quiet village. Made decent potions. Sold them at market. People liked me well enough. My wife…" He trailed off, jaw tightening.
"It wasn't really love. Maybe when we started but that fell off pretty quickly. We'd just… settled. Into something quiet and dry. A routine you forget how to walk out of. We didn't fight."
Beth shifted slightly beside him, listening.
"But when the letter came — about Sarah — everything just stopped." His voice lowered. "The world felt quiet. I remember thinking I should have been there, I blamed my wife, I blamed myself."
A pause.
"And I remember thinking," Harold whispered, "This is it. This is the most pain I'm allowed to feel.So I drank it down. Let it bury itself. I kept smiling. Kept making potions. Looked at making more… exotic ones…"
His voice cracked slightly. "My wife cried for me once, I think. I couldn't even do that part right."
His hands had curled into fists again. The shaking was back.
"I think I broke that year," he said. "Not all at once. Not like lightning. It was… slow."
Beth watched him, eyes full but steady.
"I started chasing everything. Every theory. Every model. Mana infusion. Natural catalysts. I didn't stop. I couldn't."
He breathed in sharp through his nose.
"My wife left when she realized I cared more about unlocking some new perk than asking if she'd eaten dinner."
He gave a bitter, soft laugh — not really a laugh at all.
"I told myself I was trying to solve death," he muttered. "But the truth was, I just wanted to punish the world that took her from me.
I love it here, but I hate it here…"
Silence.
The village outside stirred louder now. Buckets. Carts. The hammer of early-morning work.
Beth stayed beside him, still and grounded.
Then the door creaked open — soft and unhurried.
Margret stepped inside, a tray balanced carefully in her arms. She paused just long enough to assess the moment — Harold on the floor, Beth beside him — and said nothing.
She crossed the room and set the tray down gently. Then she lowered herself onto the floor with them, quiet and calm. Not to comfort. Not to intrude. Just… present.
Harold didn't lift his head.
He just closed his eyes, breathing steadier now, though his voice cracked on the next words.
"I sent her after a region boss, Beth. And now I don't know if she's alive."
Beth didn't answer immediately.
When she did, her voice was soft. "She's Sarah. She's your sister. And she's still out there."
Margret added, cool and certain, "She's tougher than you think. Smarter than a lot of us. She's been taught well."
Harold gave a faint nod — not because he believed it, but because he needed to.
Beth glanced toward the door. "We'll get through this. One breath at a time."
She paused… then, with a small smile, "But Harold… I do think you need to talk to a shrink."
Harold snorted softly — the closest thing to a laugh he could manage.
Harold exhaled — long and rough.
Then, almost too softly to hear:
"I think you're right."
Beth blinked, surprised for just a second.
Margret didn't say anything — just gave him a small nod of approval, subtle but deeply felt. Beth, beside him, smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. " I had a few of the ones I know added to our recruitment list weeks ago. I have a lead on one of them. We'll get you some help Harold."
Beth chimed in "you have been through some of the most horrific years i have ever heard of. It's a wonder you are still functioning as you are Harold.
Harold gave a small, tired nod. His eyes were glassy, but he didn't look away.
Then Margret stood and offered her hand.
"Come on, Harold," she said. "All we can do is the next best thing."
He looked at it for a moment, then took it.
Beth rose too, helping on his other side, and together they pulled him carefully to his feet. He didn't stumble, but he moved slowly — like his body was remembering how to carry the weight again.
Margret pushed a plate toward him. Warm bread. Boiled eggs. Something spiced and fragrant in a clay bowl.
Beth pulled the chair next to him and sat again.
The door creaked open again.
Josh stepped in, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket, eyebrows lifting slightly as he took in the sight: Harold slumped at the table, food half-eaten, Beth perched nearby, and Margret still standing with her arms crossed like a particularly patient hurricane.
Josh blinked.
"Okay. So either someone died," he said, "or Harold admitted he's not, in fact, a magical robot built entirely out of duty and guilt."
Beth gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself.
Margret rolled her eyes but didn't correct him.
Harold just groaned into his hands. "Josh…"
Josh just smiled at him laughing already…"relax" he said grabbing his half eaten toast. "What're we eating?"