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The tremor came suddenly.
It left just as suddenly—stopping after only a few seconds, as if the earth had shuddered in its sleep and then gone still again.
"Huh? What's going on?"
Everyone looked bewildered, unsure of what had happened. Victor immediately found a tall tree and scaled it in seconds, climbing to its very top. He scanned the horizon in every direction, eyes narrowed against the afternoon light.
Nothing.
"Everything looks unchanged," Victor said as he dropped back down, landing in a crouch.
Cassius nodded slowly. "Regardless, to prevent encountering any uncontrollable danger, we should head back quickly." He glanced at the cages Nicole was holding. "We've already caught the Lightning Rats anyway."
The other four had no objections.
The group hastily finished their lunch—the rock pig tenderloin was excellent, even eaten quickly—and set off in the direction of Needlewood Town.
The next morning, the five successfully returned to civilization.
"Caelan, I'll need you to deliver the Lightning Rats for me," Victor said. They stood outside the teleportation array, the morning crowd bustling around them.
"No problem."
Caelan held the cage containing four Lightning Rats. The little creatures had calmed considerably since their capture, their blue-and-yellow fur catching the light as they huddled together. He was ready to part ways with the other four and return to Crimson Port alone.
This adventure had been relatively safe—which was exactly why Caelan had come along. It had been more like a relaxing trip than actual danger. The other four were heading northwest for a proper adventure, into territory where his Second Circle combat strength (or rather, his claimed Second Circle combat strength) would make him a genuine burden.
His primary job now was to return home and continue expanding the player base.
"Oh, and don't get any ideas about my sister," Victor suddenly added. "She's only twelve."
Caelan stared at him.
"..."
He rolled his eyes and ignored the idiot.
Nicole laughed. "If a new game comes out, remember to tell us immediately!"
"That's right, Caelan," Priscilla added. "Release more games with cute art styles."
Caelan agreed enthusiastically. He would have agreed to almost anything at that point—the teleportation queue was long, and he wanted to sit down.
Since everyone had to wait their turn, the five found seats together. Handheld consoles appeared in hands almost immediately. Cassius and Victor started a Street Fighter match. Nicole and Priscilla loaded up Squirrel War.
Caelan browsed the Forum instead.
He checked player opinions on games. Scanned for fresh news—who had cleared what with one life, who was posting for help. Sometimes he just read and moved on. Other times, using a random name, he'd reply to help solve someone's problem.
The minutes passed.
Caelan saw that it was almost his turn. He prepared to say goodbye and—
He paused.
His body, which had just started to rise, sat back down on the stool.
A new post had appeared. The title hit him like cold water:
"Help, over seventy of us are trapped in a strange place in Eastern Needlewood. —Poster: Purple Thunder"
Purple Thunder.
Quinn.
Cassius was the first to notice his expression. "What's wrong? Isn't it almost your turn?"
Victor and the others looked over. Caelan's face was unreadable.
"You guys take a look too."
He used his mind palace to send the link directly into the King of Fighters Adventure Group chat.
The four clicked on the post. Read it. Then exchanged glances.
Time rewound to a few hours earlier.
Quinn felt sunlight stinging her eyes.
She rubbed them, groaning, and sat up. Her head throbbed. Her body felt wrong—weak, sluggish, like she'd been drugged. Just as she was about to observe her surroundings, she heard an unfamiliar woman's voice:
"You're awake?"
Quinn's heart seized.
She was on her feet in an instant, defensive posture, hands raised even though she could barely feel her magic. Her eyes swept the area—
Dozens of strangers sat around her.
Some glanced at her and turned away. Some were expressionless. Some had despair written across their faces, the hollow look of people who had given up.
In the middle of these strangers lay the members of her own Adventure Group. Lillian. The others. All unconscious, sprawled on the ground like discarded dolls.
Another Adventure Group lay nearby. Also unconscious.
"Don't worry," the woman beside her said. She was young—maybe early twenties—with dark hair and tired eyes. "We're all Adventurers from the Moonwatch Empire. At least for now, no one will do anything to you."
"You are..."
Quinn's mind raced backward.
She and her companions had been pursuing a Five-Eyed Monkey. Rare creatures—not particularly powerful, but their five differently-colored eyes could channel five types of elemental magic. The Adventurer's Guild had a quest: capture one alive. Fifty gold coins and 3 points. A generous reward.
They'd been so close to catching it.
Then the ground had shaken.
Vines.
Countless vines had erupted from the earth, grabbing at her, at everyone. No time to react. They were bound, wrapped tight, and then the ground had cracked open and they were dragged down, down, down into darkness—
Quinn looked around properly for the first time.
She was underground. The space was enormous—a perfect hemisphere, thousands of meters in radius. In the center of the air, a massive magic stone floated, emitting steady light that illuminated everything. Fruit trees grew in neat rows along the ground. The walls and ceiling were smooth stone, seamless and ancient.
A prison.
A very comfortable prison, but a prison nonetheless.
Her mind flashed to the pinned notices at the Needlewood Town Adventurer's Guild. The missing groups. The rewards for finding them.
"You are..." Quinn's voice came out hoarse. "You're those missing Adventurers?"
The woman gave a bitter smile and nodded.
A sarcastic voice cut in from nearby. "What do you mean 'you all'? You should say 'we.' Because from now on, you're also one of the missing Adventurers."
Quinn turned toward the voice. A teenage boy sat against a tree trunk, arms crossed, trying to look tough. When he saw Quinn looking at him, his face flushed bright red, and he awkwardly turned his head away.
Wonderful, Quinn thought. Trapped underground with seventy strangers and an embarrassed teenager.
"Ugh..."
Lillian was stirring. Quinn dropped to her knees beside her friend, checking her condition.
Half an hour later, all the previously unconscious members had woken.
Slowly, everyone understood their situation.
The good news: there was plenty of water here. Many fruit trees surrounded them, heavy with unfamiliar but edible produce. For now, at least, they wouldn't starve.
The bad news was considerably worse.
They were trapped. Truly trapped. And their magic power was suppressed—dampened to almost nothing, leaving them barely stronger than ordinary people.
The weaker someone's natural strength, the worse the suppression affected them. Quinn was Fifth Circle, one of the strongest present. She could still feel her power, though it was muted, sluggish. Lillian, at Fourth Circle, had described feeling almost completely cut off.
"You don't need to worry too much," the dark-haired woman said. Her name was Samara, Quinn had learned. "The Adventurer's Guild has already issued quests. The City Lord sent people to search. Perhaps we'll be found and rescued soon."
Perhaps.
Quinn didn't like that word.
Through careful questioning, she learned that Samara had been trapped here for three days. Others had been here longer.
Much longer.
The person who'd been trapped the longest had been here for over thirty days.
Over a month. Underground. Eating nothing but fruit.
The trapped Adventurers had pieced together what happened: the first group had accidentally activated some kind of ancient magic array. The array had pulled them underground into this space. Every time another group wandered too close to the trigger point, the same thing happened—vines, capture, imprisonment.
Quinn studied the walls. Smooth stone. No seams. No weaknesses. The other prisoners had tried digging—after thirty days of collective effort, they'd managed to carve less than half a meter into the wall before giving up.
Whatever this place was, it had been built to last.
"Could this thing have been set up by the Elf Race back then?" someone wondered aloud.
"How is that possible?" another voice scoffed. "The Elf Race left this land a hundred thousand years ago."
"Then why are only humans pulled in? Why did they leave so much food inside?" The first speaker gestured at the fruit trees. "Only those nature-loving Elves would do such a thing, right?"
"Perhaps the Druids did it. Years ago."
"Why would they do that?"
"How would I know?"
Quinn tuned out the speculation.
It didn't matter who built this prison.
What mattered was getting out.
She reached inside her clothing, fingers brushing against a familiar rectangular shape. The handheld console she'd bought just days ago—bought on credit from Caelan himself.
Could it still work down here?
She didn't dare hope.
Not yet.