Morning arrived without warmth.
The sky over the borderlands of House Andreas brightened early, a pale wash of silver bleeding through low cloud, but the land itself remained cold—silent in the way only territories long accustomed to fear could be. No birds sang. No insects stirred. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
The mecha truck moved first.
Its bulk rolled forward with deliberate restraint, engine dampened to a low, controlled hum. Thick tires crushed gravel without scattering it, adaptive suspension compensating for every rise and dip in the terrain. No lights. No banners. Just mass and intent.
Behind it rode Seth.
His bike kept a precise distance, neither close nor far, tires whispering against stone. One hand remained steady on the throttle. The other was relaxed at his side.
Between the bike and the earth dragged the captain.
A thick rope—twenty inches in length—was tied securely around the man's torso, knotted with clinical efficiency. Not enough slack to tumble freely. Not enough mercy to let him adjust. His boots scraped against the ground, armor clattering dully with every uneven jolt.
He was conscious.
That was intentional.
Seth did not look back.
The captain's groans faded beneath the engine's whisper as they crossed the final markers—subtle shifts in terrain only Seth would recognize. The invisible threshold into Andreas territory slid beneath their wheels, and the land accepted them without protest.
Minutes passed.
Then the cave appeared.
It was unremarkable to the untrained eye: a shallow rock formation half-swallowed by scrub and shadow, its entrance broken and uneven like a wound long healed poorly. No markings. No wards visible on the surface. Nothing that suggested significance.
The mecha truck slowed.
Twenty meters before the entrance, it veered east—back the way it had come—and stopped.
The ground beneath it split.
Not violently. Not dramatically. Stone parted as if obeying a command long embedded into the earth itself. Segments folded inward, revealing a descending platform—an industrial escalator of reinforced alloy and rune-etched steel.
The truck rolled forward and descended.
As it vanished below, the earth closed seamlessly behind it, leaving no seam, no scar. The terrain returned to silence.
Seth stopped his bike.
He dismounted smoothly and knelt beside the captain. The man tried to speak—tried being the operative word—but Seth's fingers moved with detached precision. The rope came loose. New bindings replaced it, tighter, cleaner.
Seth lifted him effortlessly and slung him over his shoulder.
The captain's heartbeat spiked.
The cave door did not open.
It decomposed.
Stone broke down into particulate dust, layers dissolving in a controlled cascade before reforming behind Seth as he stepped through. The transition was silent, seamless, final.
Inside, stairs descended.
With each step Seth took, lights ignited ahead of him—soft white strips embedded into the walls, activating only in his presence. The illumination never touched his back. The darkness behind him remained complete.
The captain whimpered.
By the time they reached the first floor, the man was trembling uncontrollably.
The chamber was vast.
Two giant golems stood sentry at the entrance, each carved from layered stone and metal, their cores pulsing faintly beneath armored chests. They did not move as Seth passed between them—but their gaze followed him.
Every step.
Every breath.
Seth crossed the floor without pause, set his bike down at the entrance to the second-floor pathway, and walked on.
A wheel bot emerged from the wall, clamps unfolding. It lifted the bike gently and rolled away toward the garage, disappearing into a maintenance corridor without a sound.
The stairs to the second floor awaited.
As Seth descended, the captain stirred.
His eyes fluttered open.
The first thing he saw was light without warmth.
The second was stone that breathed.
The third—
Agatha.
She stepped into view as if she had been standing there all along, her long raven hair catching the glow of arcane crystals embedded along the walls. Violet light shimmered faintly around her fingers, restrained but ready.
Her amethyst eyes flicked from Seth to the man on his shoulder.
Then she smiled.
"Seems it went just as you planned," she said lightly.
Seth did not stop walking.
"You think so?" he replied.
They moved together, their footsteps synchronizing naturally as they headed toward the passage leading to the third floor.
Agatha studied the captain openly now.
"Is that a suvornie?" she asked.
"Some sort," Seth answered.
Her brow arched. "And what do you plan on doing with him?"
Seth's steps slowed—just slightly.
"I thought of an idea," he said. "One I want to try."
Agatha stopped.
"…An idea," she repeated carefully. "Like what?"
Seth turned his head just enough for her to know the answer was already decided.
"Where did you make the summoning circle?"
Agatha blinked.
"I did it in an empty lobby," she said. "But I cleared it up. Your robots—" she made a brief finger-quote gesture "—cleaned the place."
"Good," Seth said. "Prepare it again."
Her eyes widened.
"But this time," he continued, "it'll be a long-term chamber."
Agatha's smile returned—slower now, sharper.
"…The summoning chamber."
"Yes."
She exhaled softly. "Could it be what I'm thinking?"
Seth did not look at her.
"It's exactly what you're thinking."
The captain thrashed.
"Mmmmmmm—!"
Seth adjusted his grip.
They entered the third floor.
The air changed immediately—denser, heavier with controlled magic and layered security fields. Crystalline arrays lined the walls, humming softly as data and mana flowed through them in tandem.
Agatha walked beside him.
"Was your heist efficient?" she asked.
"It went well," Seth replied. "But it won't last."
She nodded once. "Short-term."
"Yes."
They entered the control room.
Seth set the captain down gently—almost kindly—then struck a precise point at the base of the man's neck.
The body went limp.
Seth seated himself before the computing system. Panels awakened around him, holographic layers unfolding like petals. Agatha stood behind him, arms crossed, watching.
Data streamed.
Resource graphs. Political timelines. Territory response models.
Seth's fingers moved.The control room remained quiet long after the data finished scrolling.
Agatha was the first to speak.
"You understand," she said slowly, "that what you did outside won't go unnoticed."
Seth didn't turn.
Panels dimmed as his computing system completed its cycle, lines of information collapsing into ordered silence. His fingers rested lightly on the console, unmoving.
"They won't find what they don't know exists," he replied.
Agatha frowned. "That's not how politics works."
Seth finally looked at her.
"That's exactly how it works."
She crossed her arms. "You crossed borders. You extracted resources from land claimed by another House. You incapacitated miners. You left no bodies—but absence invites investigation."
"Only if there's a trail."
"There's always a trail."
Seth's gaze hardened. "There's always noise. Trails require understanding."
He turned back to the system.
"Authorize offload," he said calmly.
A mechanical chime echoed through the chamber.
COMMAND RECEIVED.
MECHA TRUCK: CARGO UNLOADING.
RESOURCE DISTRIBUTION: OPTIMAL PATHING INITIATED.
Holographic schematics bloomed into the air.
Raw ore classifications rotated slowly—iron variants, mana-conductive stone, composite veins still warm from extraction. Streams of projected routes branched outward, feeding into different sectors of the Third Floor.
"Even distribution," Seth continued. "Priority to structural reinforcement nodes and fabrication lines."
CONFIRMED.
SMELTING, REFINEMENT, AND REINFORCEMENT QUEUES ASSIGNED.
ESTIMATED COMPLETION: SEVERAL HOURS.
Agatha watched the projections shift.
"…You're accelerating again," she observed.
"Recovering lost momentum."
"By stirring every hornet's nest between here and the western frontier."
"They won't know where to sting."
A pause.
"And when they do?" she asked.
Seth's voice didn't change.
"Then they'll already be too late."
The system updated.
PROJECT CONTINUATION RESUMES UPON MATERIAL STABILIZATION.
FOURTH FLOOR CONSTRUCTION: DELAYED — AWAITING COMPLETION WINDOW.
Satisfied, Seth stood.
"Lead the way."
Agatha glanced at the unconscious captain on the floor.
"…You're bringing him?"
"Yes."
She said nothing more.
They moved through the Third Floor's corridors—wide, clean passages carved with intentional symmetry. Crystals hummed softly within the walls, regulating ambient mana levels. Autonomous units passed them silently, hauling newly unloaded materials toward processing zones.
Seth carried the captain with one hand.
The man weighed nothing to him.
They turned twice—left, then right—before arriving at the empty lobby.
It was a circular chamber with a high ceiling and a floor of smooth obsidian stone, unmarred except for faint residue where a summoning circle once existed. The air felt hollow, expectant, like a room that remembered violence.
Agatha stopped at the center.
"This was it."
Seth nodded. "Prepare it again."
She inhaled slowly and knelt.
What followed was not quick.
Agatha worked with ritual precision, drawing sigils layer by layer. Chalk infused with powdered mana crystal traced perfect arcs. Blood—her own, sparingly used—sealed certain lines. Time stretched as the circle expanded, interlocking rings forming a complex lattice of demonic geometry.
Seth watched without comment.
Minutes became an hour.
By the time Agatha finished, sweat beaded on her brow.
She stepped back beyond the outer boundary and raised her hands.
"Do not interrupt," she warned.
Then she began to chant.
The language was not human.
The circle ignited.
Lines flared orange, then blackened, then burned again—dark and ember-bright strokes rising off the floor like living script. Heat rolled outward in waves. The air distorted. Shadows twisted unnaturally, pulling inward toward the center.
A surge of dark magic erupted.
The chamber dimmed as the summoning took hold.
Something answered.
The flames collapsed inward, revealing a figure within the circle.
It was tall—taller than a man—and umber in color, its hide rough like scorched stone. A reptilian head emerged first, jaws parted slightly as heat vented from within its throat. Horns grew from its chin, ascending in a jagged line to crown its skull.
Bat-like wings unfolded partially, each joint tipped with curved horns.
Its body was humanoid—mostly.
Three legs anchored it to the circle, the third emerging from its lower back like a stabilizing limb.
Its eyes opened.
Burning.
Agatha stepped back instinctively.
Seth stepped forward.
The demon's voice rumbled, layered and deep.
"I am Zhar'kul the Forgebound," it said. "Smith of Infernal Depths. Binder of Flesh and Ore."
Its gaze fixed on Seth.
"State your name, summoner."
Seth said nothing.
Zhar'kul's eyes narrowed. "You stand within a binding circle and refuse identity?"
"I didn't summon you," Seth replied calmly. "She did."
Agatha swallowed.
The demon's gaze shifted, then returned.
"…Very well," it said. "Then speak your intent, nameless one."
"Can you fulfill demands?"
Zhar'kul's mouth curved into something close to a smile. "That depends on the price."
"I want raw resources. Ores. Untouched."
Zhar'kul laughed—low, rumbling.
"Bold," it said. "But crude. What do you offer?"
"My offer depends on your demand."
The demon leaned forward slightly. "Your soul."
"No."
The refusal was instant.
Zhar'kul's eyes flared. "Every mortal says that."
"And every weak demon asks for it."
The temperature in the room spiked.
"Careful," Zhar'kul warned. "I could unmake you where you stand."
Seth didn't blink.
"You could try," he said. "But this circle isn't designed for dominance. It's designed for containment."
The demon paused.
Its gaze flicked to the sigils.
"…Interesting."
"You won't get my soul," Seth continued. "And you won't manipulate me into offering it."
Zhar'kul straightened. "Then I will take everything else."
"You won't."
A long silence followed.
"You do not fear me," the demon observed.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you need this more than I do."
That struck something.
Zhar'kul's wings twitched. "Explain."
"You're a forgebound," Seth said. "Bound to production, not conquest. You don't answer summons unless there's gain. You can't take freely."
The demon snarled softly.
"You think yourself clever."
"I am."
Zhar'kul's voice dropped. "Then I will threaten you indirectly. I will remember this place. I will speak your existence into the Abyss."
"You won't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not worth the risk," Seth said evenly. "And you know it."
The demon studied him.
Then Seth moved.
He grabbed the captain and threw him forward, landing the man just inside the circle.
"I'll sacrifice him," Seth said. "You get a soul. I get resources."
The captain groaned.
Zhar'kul looked down.
The body was breathing.
Alive.
The demon looked back up.
"…Accepted."
It extended one clawed hand toward the far end of the chamber.
A portal tore open.
Raw ores and resources poured through like a flood—stone, metal, glowing veins of mana-rich crystal crashing into the room. The sound was deafening.
Minutes passed.
Then it stopped.
One-third of the chamber was filled.
Seth turned to Agatha.
She moved quickly, magic flaring as she appraised the pile. Her eyes widened slightly.
She turned back and nodded once.
Seth faced the demon and returned the nod.
Zhar'kul seized the captain.
The man woke screaming.
His eyes locked on Seth.
Agony filled his face, "YOU MONSTER! YOU'LL REGRET THIS!".
The demon vanished.
The summoning circle burned out.
Silence returned.
Agatha exhaled shakily.
"I can't believe you sacrificed a human for your want."
Seth turned toward the exit.
"You're saying it like you're pure."
She smirked. "I'm not."
"Then don't pretend."
She laughed softly. "Pray his soul doesn't haunt you forever."
Seth didn't stop walking.
"Whatever."
Before leaving, he spoke once more.
"Deploy collection units. Resume floor progression."
COMMAND RECEIVED.
The dungeon continued to grow.