I tracked the Lurking Horror through Three's sensors as it slithered overhead. My auric steel tendrils coiled silently around my companions, ready to yank them away at the first sign of danger.

Genta's light winked out, plunging us into absolute darkness. The creature's bulk dragged across the stone with a sound like wet leather on glass. The corruption coating the walls muffled its movements, making it impossible to pinpoint its exact location by sound alone.

Annes's breathing came in tiny, controlled gasps. Loland's scales scraped softly against his armor as he trembled. Through Mind Sight, I watched the monster's massive form pass barely fifty feet from our position. Its segmented body rippled with muscular contractions, each segment larger than a man.

Minutes stretched into eternity as we stood frozen, weapons gripped tight. The Horror's bulk finally disappeared around a bend in the tunnel. I dispatched Three to track its movements while we regrouped.

It's moving away from us, I informed the others through Mind Speech. Three will monitor its position.

Sven's knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. "Gods and spirits," he wheezed. "I almost pissed myself."

Genta, light.

The pale orb flickered back to life, revealing faces drained of color. Yulios leaned heavily against the wall, his usual stoic expression cracked by fear. Even Loland's copper scales had taken on an ashen hue.

"That thing," Annes whispered, her voice trembling. "It was bigger than the Scorn Spider."

Much bigger, I agreed. And far more dangerous. But we're alive. Now we need to find a way back up before it decides to return.

Through Three's sensors, I watched the Horror continue its patrol of the deep tunnels. We hadn't been detected yet, but our luck wouldn't hold forever. We needed to move, and quickly.

I processed the scout spiders' data and charted our path through the corrupted tunnels. My tendrils curled protectively around my companions as we crept forward, each footstep placed with exacting care. Silence became our shield as the slightest sound could draw death from the darkness.

Three, Chonsey, and Thirteen swept outward in a rotating pattern, their sensors feeding me constant updates. When they detected movement, we either diverted our course or pressed ourselves into crevices, waiting for the danger to pass. Unlike the pack hunters that roamed the upper levels, these deep-dwelling horrors hunted alone. Each was an apex predator in its own right.

My heart sank with every Analyze reading. Level 37 Cave Horror. Level 39 Void Stalker. When a gleaming Metallic Mantis crossed our path at level 41, I pulled the group back just in time. Its blade-arms could have carved through our armor like paper.

I watched my friends' faces in the dim light of Genta's orb. Sven, level 20. Annes, barely 21. Loland had pushed himself to 23 through our training, but it meant nothing down here. Even with my level 28 and the enhanced strength from my thirty-eight mechanical "children", a single mistake would prove fatal.

Stay close, I projected through Mind Speech. We move as one.

The weight of their lives pressed against my consciousness. My auric steel frame might survive an encounter with these monsters, but my companions were flesh and blood. Their deaths would be my responsibility.

I wouldn't let that happen. Not after Mallie. Not after Weath.

We had to find a way up, and I had to keep them alive until we did.

The group's footsteps echoed softly as we navigated the tunnels. Through Mind Sight, I noticed Annes's shoulders shaking, her lips moving in a silent mantra.

"Not again. Not again."

Her fingers clenched white-knuckled around her auric steel sword, face drained of its usual fierce determination.

Annes, I projected through Mind Speech. What's wrong?

She shook her head, jaw clenched tight.

Everyone, let us rest, I commanded, pulling the group into a defensible alcove. Three and Thirteen, perimeter watch. Chonsey, monitor that Horror.

I drew Annes aside while the others slumped against the corruption-slick walls. Her entire frame trembled.

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Talk to me. Down here, secrets get people killed.

She crumpled, sliding down the wall. "Six Blades," she whispered. "My old party. We thought we were ready for the Highlands Hellzone. Had all the right gear, perfect team composition." Her voice cracked. "But we were wrong."

Through Mind Sight, I watched tears track down her dirt-streaked face.

"The monsters hit us on the way out. We were tired, weighted down with loot. Garrett... he held them off. Told me to run." Her fingers dug into her palms. "So I did. I ran while they died. Some warrior I turned out to be."

That's why you came to the Academy.

She nodded. "Needed to be stronger. Better. I never wanted to feel that helpless again." Her hand shot out, gripping my mechanical arm with desperate strength. "I won't run this time. I swear it. Whatever comes, I'll stand and fight."

The conviction in her voice carried an edge of madness. I recognized that tone, had heard it in my own thoughts after Mallie's death. The desire to prove oneself worthy through violence, to wash away guilt with blood.

Annes-

"No." She cut me off. "I mean it. I'd rather die here than live with running away again."

I studied her face through Mind Sight, seeing the shadow of old wounds beneath her fierce expression. My tendrils curled reflexively, wanting to shield her from her own demons as much as the monsters lurking in the dark.

But some battles couldn't be fought with steel and strength. Some scars ran too deep for any weapon to reach.

We're getting out, I projected firmly. All of us. Together.

She gripped her sword tighter, and I saw her shoulders straighten with renewed purpose. Whatever came next, I knew Annes would face it head-on. For better or worse.

Time stretched like corrupted stone as we traversed the endless tunnels. My war frame had an in-built chronometer that marked each passing hour with mechanical precision. As we trekked through the myriad dank tunnels, my companions' faces grew more haggard.

Thirteen's sensors pinged an alert: water. The scout spider had found a thin stream trickling through several ceiling fissures. My friends stumbled toward it, cupping the precious liquid in trembling hands.

"Thank the gods," Genta whispered, filling her canteen. The others followed suit, their movements deliberate despite their obvious thirst.

I watched them share out bread and dried meat from their packs. They'd prepared well, bringing provisions for what should have been a brief tournament excursion. Now those same supplies might mean the difference between life and death.

Eat slowly, I cautioned. We don't know how long we'll be down here.

They nodded grimly, carefully wrapping away portions for later. The reality of our situation had settled in. We were trapped in the deep reaches with limited resources.

We pressed on through the darkness, my tendrils helping steady exhausted companions over treacherous ground. The corruption coating the walls was a constant as we ascended, the black muck forming grotesque patterns that seemed to writhe in Genta's magical light.

When fatigue finally overwhelmed them, I guided the group to a defensible alcove. The entrance was narrow enough for me to guard while allowing enough space for them to rest.

Sleep, I projected. I'll keep watch.

They huddled together against the cold stone, weapons clutched close. Their rest was anything but peaceful. Sven thrashed and whimpered, while Loland's scales rattled with each shuddering breath. Annes woke twice with choked-off screams, her hands flying to her sword before recognizing our shelter.

I monitored their vital signs through Mind Sight as they slept, tracking each racing heartbeat and labored breath. When they finally stirred, I watched them force down meager portions of their dwindling supplies.

No one spoke as we gathered our gear. The weight of the darkness pressed down, turning speech into an unnecessary risk. We had to keep moving, had to find a way back to the levels where students belonged.

But first, we had to survive.

For three days we evaded the horrors that stalked these depths. My scout spiders' sensors guided us through winding passages, around sleeping predators and past ancient bones. But on the fourth day, our vigilance faltered.

The gorge stretched before us like a wound in the earth. As we picked our way along its edge, what I'd marked as terrain shifted. The "boulder" uncurled, revealing a massive arthropod with crystalline plates and lethal scythe-limbs. Before I could shout a warning, it lunged at Sven.

My tendril shot out, wrapping around his torso and yanking him back. Not fast enough though as one razor-edge carved through his leather armor, opening a deep gash across his ribs. His scream echoed off the cavern walls.

Protect him! I commanded through Mind Speech. My companions snapped into defensive formation around Sven's fallen form, weapons raised.

Yulios struck first, his auric steel axe cleaving through several of the creature's legs in a spray of crystalline shards. The beast staggered forwards, but Genta's hastily conjured flames drove it back.

Analyze identified our opponent: Level 31 Stone Boulderbug.

Annes and Loland darted in from opposite sides, their blades finding gaps between its armored segments. I hammered it with my tendrils, each impact cracking its mineral carapace. But the creature was far from finished.

One scythe-limb knocked Yulios's axe spinning away. The follow-through stabbed deep into his forearm, drawing another cry of pain.

I surged forward, all three tendrils coiling around the Boulderbug's bulk. Its crystalline body thrashed against my grip, but auric steel held firm.

Now! I projected.

They needed no further urging. Blades flashed in Genta's magical light as they hacked at the immobilized monster. Yulios retrieved his axe one-handed, bringing it down again and again on the creature's head. My frame creaked under the strain of restraining it, but I didn't dare loosen my hold.

Finally, the beast's struggles weakened. One last blow from Yulios's axe shattered its head, and the massive body went limp in my grasp.

"Level twenty-three!" Genta's laughter held an edge of hysteria. "Gods, I can't believe I actually leveled up!"

"Same here," Annes panted. Loland and Yulios nodded agreement, their weapons dripping dark ichor.

"Typical." Sven's weak voice drew us to where he lay clutching his side. "I miss out on the experience while bleeding out down here."

We crowded around him, applying bandages from our dwindling medical supplies. The wound was deep but hadn't hit anything vital.

How bad is it? I projected.

He managed a pained grin. "Don't worry about me. Next time I'll be the one saving your shiny metal behind."

For the first time in days, my friends and I laughed.

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