The darkness of the cave presses in on Rosa, thick and suffocating, as if the stone itself narrows around her. The air feels heavier with every breath. Her heart pounds in rhythm with the frantic clicks of Lilia swapping mana stones again and again. Another click—still no light.
"This one doesn't work either…"
Lilia mutters, more clicks following in quicker succession, each sharper than the last. Cold air seeps into Rosa's sweat, sending chills across her skin. A shrill ring pulses behind her eyes, rattling her skull.
Something clatters on the ground.
Rosa's attention drops to the broken remains of her staff—splintered wood trembling where it fell. She runs her fingers along the jagged grain, following it upward until she feels her own hand trembling. The shivers are hers.
The mana potion isn't working. We can't escape. The mana stone's dead. Even the scrolls, the glyphs—everything…
The spiral snaps. Rosa finds herself already clutching the shattered staff, knees buckled beneath her. Her breath rasps—short, sharp, uneven. She forces her eyes open, realizing they were shut. Her jaw hangs slack as she drags air through her mouth.
A faint pair of glowing eyes lowers into view. Hands grip her shoulders and shake her.
"Rosa! Rosa! Please—just say something!"
Warmth radiates through the touch, thawing her cold skin where sweat chills her.
"I'm here! We're fine! Rosa, look at me!"
Rosa clings to the warmth, pulling Lilia close. Her eyes sting, pressure swelling behind them, but she holds it back. The pain in her skull pulses, ready to burst.
"Rosa, talk to me!"
Lilia draws her in tighter, and Rosa sinks into a firm, pliant warmth, unable to tell where her own trembling ends. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her breathing slows; the pain dulls, slightly.
Cough—cough.
Cough. Cough. Chough.
Rosa pulls herself back, though warmth lingers in her vision. Her breath steadies, though her nose feels blocked. Instinctively she sniffs, pulling the dampness inward.
She opens her mouth to speak, but her jaw clamps shut as a lump rises in her throat.
"I'm here… you're okay…"
Footsteps shift beside her. Rosa lifts a hand to her shoulder to stop her, feeling Lilia's weight settle briefly against her palm.
"...Torch. Now."
The words scrape out, sharp and cracked.
Lilia's glowing eyes dip down; fabric rustles.
"Gleut."
The glow fades as a spark ignites, catching the torch. Bluish mana-light gives way to warm flame, shadows stretching long across the cave floor. The fire reveals Lilia's face—lips pressed tight, a faint trail glistening down her cheek.
"Li…lia…"
She wipes her eyes with her arm, a small smile trying to form.
"Dusty cave, huh? Must've gotten in both our eyes."
Rosa clenches her jaw again, biting down the tremor, and answers with a silent nod.
For a moment, neither of them moves. The cave stays still.
Rosa draws a shuddered breath.
Her legs feel like jelly, trembling like leaves in a storm. She tries to lift her foot—just one step—but her boots don't leave the ground.
Warmth slips around her shoulders. Lilia's arm. Holding her steady, keeping her from collapsing.
Rosa turns toward her. Lilia's gaze stays fixed on the path ahead. She says nothing, only tightens her hold.
Rosa inhales again, slower this time. The shaking eases. Her breath steadies. Her chest feels lighter.
Then she feels it—her shoulder shaking, but not from her. The tremor comes from Lilia's grip.
They're both afraid.
Rosa was the one who dragged her here. She has to stay composed.
She sharpens her gaze—not with magic, just sheer focus.
She wraps an arm around Lilia's waist. Lilia glances at her in response.
"Rosa…"
"We're moving now."
She tries to step again. This time her knees hold. She can do this.
Lilia's arm tightens once more, and Rosa finally takes that first step.
They head deeper into the cave, passing crossroads after crossroads.
These aren't forks—they're merging paths. They've been walking along one of the converging routes, while the other connecting paths are filled with scuttle marks.
Each merge carries more of those marks.
Meanwhile, the human footprints grow farther apart, scattered.
Eventually, they reach a large metal door. Scrap wood—maybe fallen supports—wedges it shut at an angle.
"A blocked entrance…"
Rosa mutters, running her fingers across the cold surface.
"How do you know that?" Lilia asks, brow raised.
"Look…" Rosa points downward.
"Human tracks, and a lot of scuttle marks. Another party probably came from here. They must've been running from something—so they blocked it. It's our exit."
"Wait, Rosa."
Lilia stares at the scuttle marks instead of following.
"The direction… they lead ins—"
"Please… Lilia…" Rosa cuts her off. "Just let us check first. We'll be careful…"
She looks back at the marks, then shakes her head.
"It… has to be our exit."
Lilia falls silent.
A quiet stretches between them, doubt seeping in.
"…Understood," Lilia finally says.
"But let's be very careful. I have a bad feeling about this."
"We're going out," Rosa murmurs, unwedging the scrap wood. Lilia steps in to help.
Piece by piece, the door becomes free.
"Rosa… please be careful."
Rosa nods, grips the handles, and pushes. Nothing. She pulls instead. The hinges groan as the door opens.
She opens the door expecting light. Instead, darkness presses out like a held breath. Only when the torch cuts through does the horror take shape.
Krrschs… krrrchs…
Wet sounds echo in their ears.
An ore hermit—then another—and another.
One… two… ten… dozens.
Countless teardrop-shaped shells cluster in a single space.
No—fight over it.
Wet crunches ripple through the room.
Even with Rosa and Lilia standing in plain view, the hermits ignore them entirely.
A small one—barely the size of a dog—scuttles past the doorway.
Rosa doesn't breathe. Lilia stays just as still.
Her eyes meet the hermit's, its red carapace glistening orange in the torchlight.
In its mouthparts, it clutches long, golden strands clumped together, slick and dark with fluid. The strands cling and stretch as it pulls them taut with its pincers. It scuttles toward the mass of feeding shells without a single glance at them.
A loud, wet splash—followed by a crack.
Rosa's gaze snaps toward the sound.
One larger hermit towers over the rest, its shell chipped and smeared. Something pale hangs beneath its pincers—shapeless, limp—and scraps of fabric cling to what's left.
"Heeeek—!"
Her stomach twists. Cold floods through her limbs, leaving her face drained.
"Uuurrrk…"
Lilia turns away, hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
SLAM.
Rosa forces the door shut and shoves the wood scraps back into place.
Lilia joins her without a word.
No one needs to speak.
It's better if they don't.
Once the final wedge is secure, Rosa stands and lifts her hand toward the door.
"Spheiren."
A green sigil flashes across the metal, locks clicking before the glow fades back into the surface.
That should hold. Even drained, they won't be forcing their way out. Not soon.
She keeps her hand raised.
"Spheiren… Spheiren… Spheiren…"
No glyph. No answer. No magic left.
But she keeps saying it—voice thinning with every repetition.
"Spheiren… Spheiren… Sphei… ren…"
Her jaw tightens. She draws a long, shaky breath.
"We're… moving on."
"Rosa…"
Lilia calls softly, but Rosa doesn't look back. She keeps walking.
Lilia follows.
Rosa forces her steps steady, each one pushing against the tremor beneath her skin. The cave stretches into winding corridors—stone narrowing, then widening, torchlight dragging long shadows across uneven walls. Neither of them speaks as they move deeper.
Only after that distance do they reach another fork. More tracks score the ground—these legs much larger than any ore hermit.
"Rosa… look…"
Rosa turns. Footprints.
Relief rises instinctively.
"Another survi—"
The word dies. Not after what they just saw.
She looks to Lilia, hoping she'll say something—anything.
But Lilia only stares ahead, expression tight and tangled into something she rarely wears.
Rosa turns toward the direction of the tracks. If she follows them, she might find whoever walked ahead—and she isn't ready for what that means. Not after what's behind that door.
She has seen bodies before—horrible ones.
But this is the first time she feels that she could become one.
Not because of a blunder or a miscalculated fight—she's paid heavier prices in battle.
This time, every means of defending herself was stripped away, just like that.
That sight behind the door could very well be their fate.
She refuses to think about it. Not now. Not again.
She turns away from the tracks.
"We're going that way…"
Before she steps forward, a hand stops her.
"Rosa…"
She looks back and meets Lilia's eyes.
Lilia's lips curve downward, her brow tight, her jaw clenched.
Her gaze lingers, heavy with something unspoken.
"I… I rely on you, okay?"
Rosa's breath stalls. Warmth stirs in her chest. Her jaw slackens.
She has to keep it together—not just for herself, but for Lilia.
Her lips twitch upward, barely noticeable, held back before the smile can fully form.
Lilia's expression softens in return.
Rosa looks back at the ground, then steps past Lilia and kneels by the tracks again.
"Lilia. Green one. Two."
She reaches a hand back without looking. Rustling follows immediately.
The moment she feels the vials, she tears them open and downs both.
Bitterness floods her mouth, sharp and overwhelming. She swallows hard, fighting the urge to spit it out.
Warmth spreads through her body.
"Sharvessaich."
Her crimson eyes shift to a bluish glow.
The drain hasn't stopped. If anything, the spell quickens it. Time is limited.
She scans the ground. The footprints are fresh.
What does that mean?
One: someone arrived recently—likely from another entrance.
Meaning the opposite direction should lead back to the exit.
Two: they could belong to the previous survivor.
She clenches her teeth, cursing herself for not checking earlier.
If the tracks connect, they also came from the collapsed entrance.
She narrows her eyes at the scuttle marks. Larger. Much larger.
Either an overgrown ore hermit—or something else entirely.
Different creature.
She traces the pattern deeper into the dirt. The spacing, the weight, the shape.
Think, Rosa.
Her mind races through the evidence—puncture marks, cracked shells, wider scuttles.
A hermit queen? No. Ore hermits aren't eusocial, no hierarchy.
A mutated hermit? Possible. Eisenvalt twists things; specialized variants could exist. No proof, but still plausible.
A predator? Most likely. The shattered shells could be from a previous party, mana drained before they could defend themselves. The cracks and punctures match.
She studies the scuttle marks again. Many sets, aligned, almost patterned. Either several creatures of similar size moving as one—or a single body with many legs.
Too large for millipedes. Too uneven for their gait.
Centipede. Something like one. Something big.
"Lilia, do giant centipedes eat ore hermits?"
Lilia crouches beside her, a small laugh slipping out.
"Not that I know of."
Rosa feels a weight lift—one she didn't realize she'd been holding—just from the lighter tone.
Even so, one thing seems certain: whatever it was, it moved like a centipede.
What unsettles her is the direction—the creature didn't just attack. It chased whoever ran and then returned the way it came.
The same direction as the supposed exit.
Giant centipede. Hard carapace, venom, speed, precision. Resistant to physical attacks. Weak to magic.
Normally, that's straightforward.
Her magic barely works now.
Her vision flickers as Sharvessaich fades, the blue glow draining from her eyes. Details blur. Her knees dip under the fatigue.
"Ugh… that's the limit…"
Warmth leaves her limbs; cold creeps in again.
She stares down the direction of the trail.
The feeding chamber flashes across her mind. Her stomach tightens; sweat beads cold along her temple.
Going there now feels like walking into their own graves.
She clenches her fist, jaw set.
The situation hasn't changed.
"How was it? Learned anything?"
Lilia leans into her view, offering a faint smile—steadying, not mocking.
Rosa explains: the trail, the exit, the creature, their mana.
Lilia listens. Her face tightens when she hears "giant centipede," tighter still when Rosa mentions the drain.
"We have two options."
Rosa raises two fingers.
"We follow the tracks and check on the…"
She hesitates.
"…the people ahead. It's safer."
Rosa lowers one finger.
"Or we gamble and take the path it came from. Face whatever's there and try for the exit."
She exhales. Quiet. Heavy.
"I really don't want this choice."
They hold each other's gaze. No panic. Just understanding.
The choice becomes clear between them.
If they're going to take on the odds, they won't do it alone. They'll find others first