Strategy Room – Iron Hearth Castle. Night – T-Minus 1 Day Before Expedition.
The oil lamp in the center of the oak table flickered, casting long shadows that danced against the cold stone walls of the castle. Outside, the night wind whistled through the cracks in the masonry, but inside the room, the atmosphere was silent and heavy.
On the table lay a new map. It wasn't a map of Aethelgard's territories, but a geological structural map of the underworld, redrawn by Rianor based on sonar data from the monster's remains and ancient records from the family library.
The Expedition Team gathered around the table. Their faces were grim, illuminated by the dim firelight. There were no jokes, no relaxed smiles. They knew the stakes.
Sir Rianor pointed to a pitch-black area at the bottom of the map, far below the standard mining levels they had been excavating.
"We call this the Abyssal Zone," Rianor's voice broke the silence. "Two thousand meters below sea level."
"And the conditions?" Sir Riven asked.
The eldest son was already clad in his new armor. It wasn't the flashy golden plate he usually wore to show off at festivals. Tonight, he wore matte black steel—recycled from the Obsidian Crawler's hide—which was lighter yet far harder. His injured left arm was no longer in a sling, though his movements still appeared slightly stiff.
"Hell," Rianor answered shortly. "Thin oxygen, almost zero. Numerous pockets of toxic methane and sulfur gas. Gravity is unstable at several points due to magnetic anomalies."
Rianor looked at his siblings one by one.
"And according to Elara's sensors... there is a Mana concentration so dense down there that it could boil a normal human's brain."
"The enemies?" Lady Rhea asked. She sat at the corner of the table, tying her long hair tight before checking the sharpness of her Mithril daggers.
"Unknown," Rianor answered honestly. "But if that Obsidian Crawler was just a 'Watchdog' at the gate, imagine what is waiting in their living room."
"Our target is the Adamantite deposit," Rianor tapped a red dot on the map. "We take enough for the rifle barrels, then we run. Don't be heroes. Don't be curious. Get in, grab it, get out. Understood?"
They all nodded.
"Rumina," Rianor called. "Present our gear. Our lives are in your hands."
Lady Rumina stepped forward. The fifteen-year-old girl looked older than her years tonight. The bags under her eyes were thick from staying up late assembling equipment.
She opened a large iron chest on the floor.
"First," Rumina pulled out a complex face mask made of leather and glass tubes. "The Rebreather Mask. Inside is a wind crystal that circulates the air. This must be worn at all times. Do not take it off for a second down there, or your lungs will blister from the acid gas."
"Second," she handed out a box containing syringes with glowing red liquid. "Stimulant Shots. A mixture of adrenaline and Mana Potion extract. If you are severely injured or out of energy to run... inject this into your thigh. It will keep you moving for an hour even with a broken leg. But..."
Rumina swallowed hard. "The side effects are incredibly painful once it wears off. Your heart could stop if you use more than one."
"And specifically for Brother Riven..."
Rumina walked to a dark corner of the room. She pulled back a cloth covering a large object.
A Battleaxe rested there.
However, this was no ordinary axe. The blade wasn't forged iron; it was a row of sharp serrated teeth taken from the Obsidian Crawler's jaw. Built into its thick handle were a mini steam engine and a small exhaust pipe.
"The Chain-Axe," Rumina said proudly, her eyes sparkling slightly. "I installed a rotary engine inside. Pull the lever, and the blade will spin at 3,000 RPM. It can cut through rock, steel, and... monster bones."
Riven approached. He gripped the axe with his right hand. It was heavy. Savage. The vibration of the silent engine seemed to call to his wild side.
"I like it," Riven smirked thinly. It was his first sincere smile in a week. "Time to let the monsters down there feel what it's like to be crushed by a machine."
Mouth of the Mithril Cave – Gateway to the Underworld. Pre-Dawn.
A thick fog blanketed the Northreach valley. The morning air was freezing, biting deep into the marrow. The sun had not yet fully risen, leaving the world in shades of gray.
The expedition party stood ready at the gaping, dark mouth of the cave.
Team Composition (Total: 25 People):
Vanguard: Sir Riven (Tank/Leader) & 10 elite Iron Mercs led by Captain Garrick.
Mid: Sir Rianor (Navigator), Elara (Mage/Sensor), Lady Rumina (Technician).
Rear: Lady Rhea (DPS/Assassin) & 10 Iron Mercs as rear guards.
Duke Lucian and Duchess Aurelia came to see them off at the safety limit.
The atmosphere was heavy with emotion. There was no official ceremony. Only a painful family farewell.
Aurelia hugged Rumina tightly, as if she didn't want to let her little girl go into that dangerous pit.
"Rumina... stay close to Brother Rian, okay?" Aurelia whispered, her voice trembling as she held back tears. "Don't try to be brave. If anything happens, run. Let your brothers handle it."
"I will, Mom. I brought smoke bombs," Rumina replied, trying to be steady despite her trembling lips.
Aurelia then turned to Riven. She cupped Riven's face, which was marked with new scars, with her warm hands.
"Look after your siblings, Ven. But please... for God's sake, look after yourself too. I don't want to see you carried home again. My heart can't take it."
Riven looked into his mother's eyes. He saw raw fear there.
"I promise, Mom," Riven kissed his mother's hand respectfully. "We're all coming home in one piece."
Duke Lucian approached Riven. He didn't offer a hug. Instead, he handed over an object wrapped in black velvet cloth.
"Open it," Lucian ordered curtly.
Riven opened it.
An old dagger with a dull lion-head hilt. The blade didn't shine, but it radiated a strange, cold aura.
"That is the 'Fang of the North'," Lucian said. "The weapon of our great-grandfather. The founder of House Sudrath."
"Once, he used this to slay the Goblin King in this cave and claim the lands of Northreach. Now, it is your turn."
Lucian stared sharply into his son's eyes.
"If your axe breaks, if your engine dies... use this fang. Remind the monsters down there who owns this land. Do not let the Sudrath name die in the dark."
Riven tucked the dagger into his waist. "Understood, Dad."
Rianor, who was double-checking his compass, felt a vibration in his coat pocket.
He pulled out a small slip of telegraph paper just printed by his portable pager.
A message from the Capital. From Roland.
MESSAGE CONTENT: "Good luck, Nerd. Don't die out there. I'm currently dancing with a Dragon, and she's stepped on my toes three times already. If you die, I'm inheriting all my debts to your ghost. – R."
Rianor smiled thinly, adjusting his glasses.
"Idiot," he muttered softly, but his heart felt a little lighter. Even from afar, Roland was with them.
"TIME TO MOVE!" Riven shouted, his voice echoing off the cliff walls. "LIGHTS ON!"
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Twenty-five crystal headlamps lit up simultaneously, piercing the pre-dawn darkness with sharp blue beams.
The rhythmic thud of iron boots began to drum.
The group marched into the mouth of the cave.
The sunlight slowly vanished behind their backs, replaced by the eternal darkness of the underworld.
They had crossed the threshold of the human world.
Ahead, only dark history and monsters waited in silence.