Clive stood slightly apart from the crowd.
His shoulder rested against the cold, rough stone wall. Its surface was uneven, filled with old scratches that had never been repaired. As if the place was deliberately left that way, so that anyone leaning against it would never forget that no part of the Nest was built for comfort.
His arms were crossed over his chest. His posture was relaxed. But his eyes never stopped moving.
He observed.
The change was obvious, even though no one said it out loud.
The group that had been talking about survival just yesterday was no longer the same. There were no panicked faces. No explosive tension. Quite the opposite.
Some faces looked calmer. More focused. As if their world had narrowed, reduced to a single simple question that left no room for emotion.
Go deeper with high risk.Or get out alive with nothing.
No one asked who would go in first. No one argued about turns. No one voiced objections. Everyone already knew.
This was no longer about order.This was about choice.
Ted stood not far from Clive. He held an empty bowl for too long before realizing it, and his hand slowly lowered.
Dorde yawned softly. Midway through the motion, he stopped. His eyes darted quickly around. No one was paying attention. He covered his mouth himself, suddenly feeling the gesture was out of place.
Zorilla retied the strap of her sword belt. For the third time. The pull was tight. Precise. No loose fabric remained. No unnecessary movement.
There was no light conversation.
Clive noticed one thing that made the back of his neck feel cold.
Coreforge.
That single word alone was enough to change everything.
The people who had looked uniform yesterday were no longer the same. Some appeared more cautious. Some more daring. Others had begun to look dangerous. Not because of muscle or weapons.
But because their eyes had changed.
Sharper.More focused.As if they had already made the right choice and had no intention of looking back.
Ambition.
Their group was no exception.
Ted finally spoke, keeping his voice low.
"If we go in as deep as yesterday," he said, "we can get out before hitting exhaustion. Without serious injuries."
No one answered immediately.
Dorde gave a small nod. "That still makes sense. We do not need to force it."
Zorilla snorted softly. Not mockery. More like crossing that statement off a list of viable options.
"Makes sense for what?" she asked.
Ted turned to her. "To survive."
"That was yesterday," Zorilla said.
Silence fell between them.
Clive did not speak right away. He let the conversation flow. Let each of them reveal their position without being pushed. He wanted to see not what they said, but what they were holding back.
Dorde scratched the back of his neck. "If we go too deep and miscalculate, one injury could ruin everything."
Zorilla replied quickly. "If we are too afraid to take risks, we get nothing."
Her tone remained flat. Not challenging. Not defensive. As if she were simply reading out the result of a finished calculation.
Ted frowned. "This is not about fear."
"This is about our future," Zorilla replied.
"We do not have a future if we die inside," Dorde shot back.
All eyes finally turned to Clive.
He lifted his head slightly. His gaze was not sharp, but calculating. He was not looking for approval. He was weighing things.
How many monsters they could kill without losing rhythm.How many injuries they could still absorb before efficiency dropped.How much risk was worth taking if the reward was the Coreforge method.
He thought of Stan.
Not his face.But the moment everything collapsed because of one small mistake that had been dismissed as trivial.
Clive finally spoke.
"We will fight more aggressively," he said. His voice was calm. Not loud. But enough to end the remaining debate. "We will try to reach the target."
Ted opened his mouth, but Clive continued.
"But the moment one of us gets injured and it threatens everything, we withdraw."
He looked at them one by one.
"Safety remains the priority. Remember what happened to Stan."
Zorilla gave a slight nod.
Ted fell silent.
Dorde swallowed.
They understood.
Not because they fully agreed.But because the decision made sense.
*******
On the other side of the preparation area, a group of five was getting ready.
Unremarkable. Quiet. They did not draw attention on purpose. And precisely because of that, they stood out clearly.
They moved as one unit.
No one stood too far away. No one too close. The distance between their bodies was consistent. A natural formation. Not the result of orders, but of habit.
Equipment was checked quickly. For one another. Without being asked.
A dark-haired man with a hard jaw stood slightly in front. His eyes were fixed on the processing corridor. There was no hesitation there.
"Target remains," he said. "One hundred."
The others nodded.
They knew what was at stake.
Coreforge.
That was enough.
No moral discussion.No long debate.No one asked if it was worth it.
They moved based on collective calculation.
As they entered the corridor, Clive watched from a distance. He noted their steps. The spacing between bodies. The way they covered angles. The way they moved without obstructing one another.
Clean.Efficient.Dangerous.
He realized one thing.
That group did not enter to survive.
They entered to hunt.
*******
Time passed.
Thirty minutes.Forty.Fifty.
The group did not come out.
Clive and the others waited.
Inside the processing corridor, the five-person group was still fighting.
Their formation was tight. A constantly moving circle. Never staying in one spot for too long. Forward, back, shifting. Always together.
Monsters came from every direction.
Monkeys with long arms. Large yellow-toothed rats. Other creatures whose shapes were increasingly difficult to recognize as anything that had once lived normally.
"Glenn," shouted a large man, breathing heavily. His body was covered in small wounds. Blood ran thinly. "How many?"
"Seventy-six," Glenn replied.
Twenty-four more.
The number was enough to rekindle morale that had begun to erode.
They became more aggressive.
Dilos pushed forward. His massive body became bait. Drawing attention. Absorbing pressure. Glenn and another attacked from the side. Fast. Efficient. Every strike aimed to kill, not to drive off.
The other two guarded the rear. Closing gaps.
Their formation was nearly perfect.
Twenty minutes later.
"One hundred!"
The shout echoed through the narrow corridor.
They had succeeded.
"We pull back," Glenn said quickly. "Our bodies are exhausted."
They retreated in an orderly formation.
And that was when they saw it.
The small creature.
Sitting in the corner of the corridor. Head tilted. Eyes following them.
This time, it did not wait.
It stood up.
Its smile widened.
A shrill whistling sound filled the corridor.
Deafening.
Footsteps echoed from the rear passage. Irregular. Many.
They immediately pulled away, taking a safer position.
A horde of monsters emerged. And behind the sound, heavy footsteps followed. Slow. Full of pressure.
Glenn let out a short breath.
"Get ready," he said.
When the figure appeared, they fell silent.
Its body was like a bear, but the proportions were wrong. Shoulders too wide. Legs too short. Flesh riddled with holes, old puncture wounds that had never healed. In its chest, beneath a heart that pounded hard, something gleamed.
A core.
Black. Dense. Pulsing slowly, following the rhythm of a heart that was not its own.
The air in the corridor changed.
Not because of the smell of blood. That was familiar.Not because of the growls. Those could be ignored.
But because of pressure.
As if something was watching. Not from one direction, but from the entire space.
Glenn forced himself to look away.
"Do not stare too long," he said. His voice was rough, broken by breath. "Focus."
Dilos stood at the front. His shoulders rose and fell. Blood dripped from his arm, running to his fingers. He did not wipe it away. There was no need.
Behind them, the small creature that had been sitting now stood atop a pile of bones. It whistled again. Short. Sharp.
And the horde moved.
They did not come all at once.
They came in waves.
The first wave struck from the left. Monkeys with long arms leaped low, targeting legs. Dilos stepped forward and slammed into the front one with his shoulder. A hard impact. His sword came down, shattering a jaw. Blood sprayed into the air.
He did not stop.
The second wave came from the right. Glenn and another moved in unison. Short strikes. Efficient. No wide swings. No wasted movement.
The other two sealed the rear. Maintaining rhythm. Closing gaps that appeared and vanished in seconds.
The large monster did not move.
It waited.
Each time the horde thinned, it took one step closer.
The ground trembled. Stone cracked faintly beneath its feet.
"Finish them fast," Glenn shouted. "Do not let it join in!"
Dilos let out a short roar. Not a battle cry. More like a forced breath. He struck again. One. Two. Three creatures fell. Claws raked his shoulder. He did not retreat.
Monsters came from atop mounds. From corridor corners. From gaps that had been empty moments ago.
The lean man in the back stabbed one, then two. Blood splashed onto his face. He blinked. Too late.
One small creature slipped through.
It bit his calf.
A scream broke out.
The formation wavered. Not collapsed. But shifted one step too far.
That was enough.
The large monster growled.
It advanced.
One step.Then another.
"To the center!" Glenn shouted.
They tried to tighten up again. Dilos twisted his body, trying to close the gap. His sword struck, but too late.
The monster's arm swept out.
Not a strike.A sweep.
Dilos's body was flung aside. He slammed into the stone wall with a dull sound that made everyone pause a fraction of a second too long.
Bone cracked unnaturally.
"Dilos!" someone shouted.
He was still moving. But slowly.
The monster stepped forward again. Blood dripped from the holes in its body. It did not slow. It did not hesitate.
Glenn clenched his teeth.
"Target the core," he said. "Now."
There was no discussion. No repeated command.
They attacked.
Swords struck thick hide. They did not go in. Not deep enough. The monster roared and retaliated. One swing slammed into the chest of the lean man.
His body lifted.
Then fell.
He did not get back up.
Eyes open. Unfocused. Blood flowed from his mouth, forming a thin line on the stone.
One person was dead.
There was no time to stop.
The horde closed in again. The small creature atop the bones whistled once more. The tone changed. Faster.
"Keep going!" Glenn shouted. His voice cracked.
Dilos forced himself upright. One leg no longer supported him properly. But he moved forward. He stood between the large monster and Glenn.
"I will hold it," he said. His breathing was heavy. Every breath felt like something breaking inside his chest. "Take the core."
Glenn looked at him. Only for a fraction of a second.
Long enough to understand.
Dilos was not asking.He had already chosen.
The monster roared and struck.
Dilos did not dodge.
He took it.
The impact shattered something. His shoulder collapsed. Blood burst from his mouth. But he remained standing. Both hands held the monster's arm, forcing distance.
Glenn saw the opening.
He jumped.
His sword struck directly into the hole in the monster's chest. Straight toward the pulsing core.
The first impact was not enough.
The monster grabbed Glenn's shoulder. Claws pierced flesh. Glenn screamed. He did not let go of his sword.
He struck again.
And again.
Until something cracked.
The sound was not loud. More like stone breaking underwater.
The core broke free from the flesh. Glenn seized it with his bloodied hand.
Its pulse stopped.
The large monster froze.
Then collapsed.
Its body hit the ground with a heavy sound that echoed through the corridor for a long time.
The horde stopped.
The small creature atop the bones stared at them. Its smile vanished. It leaped back into the darkness.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
They stood there. Gasping. Bleeding. Bodies trembling.
Four people.
One body lay motionless.
Dilos collapsed beside Glenn. His breathing was shallow. Every breath came with a wet sound.
"We got it," someone said. His voice was barely audible.
There was no cheering.
No joy.
The black core in Glenn's hand felt cold. Heavy. Not as he had imagined. There was no sense of victory. Only the lingering warmth of something that had just stopped living.
They carried the core out with what strength they had left.
The stone door opened.
Light touched their blood-covered faces.
Raimon stood there.
His expression did not change when he saw the core. It did not change when he saw the body that did not return.
"Efficiency," he said.
An assistant replied without looking up. "Eighty-three percent."
Raimon nodded.
"Recorded."
He turned slightly, glanced at the list in his hand. A name crossed out. Numbers written.
No pause.
No questions.