The worst part about the end of the world wasn't the monsters. It wasn't the fire. It wasn't even the fact that I was currently riding a glowing metal plate up a vertical shaft at speeds that made my stomach try to escape through my ears.

The worst part was that it was smooth.

The platform we were standing on didn't rattle. It didn't shake. It hummed with a low, sickening vibration that felt less like magic and more like a headache given physical form. We were shooting upward through the dark, passing blurs of blue light that looked like stars stretched into screaming lines.

"I hate this," Splitjaw growled. He was sitting with his back against the invisible forcefield that served as a railing, clutching his broken leg. "It's too quiet. We should be climbing. Or falling. Not... sliding up."

"It's efficient," Relay whispered, his eyes wide and reflecting the passing lights. He was pressed against the edge, staring down into the abyss we were leaving behind. "Boss, look at the walls. They aren't carved. They're... printed."

I looked. He was right. The walls of the shaft weren't made of blocks. They were seamless sheets of grey material, etched with lines of light that pulsed in time with the platform's ascent.

"Don't look at it," I muttered, gripping the hilt of the Sovereign's First Flame. The relic was vibrating against my hip, hot and agitated. "Just focus on not throwing up."

"Too late," Splitjaw groaned.

The shaft widened suddenly, the walls falling away to reveal a cavern so massive it made the main dungeon floors look like broom closets.

We weren't in a cave. We were inside a machine.

Colossal gears, larger than the entire village of Ashring, turned slowly in the dark. Rivers of glowing blue liquid—coolant, I realized with a jolt—cascaded down from massive pipes, feeding into reservoirs that boiled and hissed. Bridges of light spanned the gaps, connecting towers of black metal that blinked with red eyes.

It was awe-inspiring. It was terrifying.

It made me feel very, very small.

[Zone: Deep Infrastructure – Sector 4]

[System Note: Coolant Pressure Critical]

[Warning: Surface Ventilation Obstructed]

The System messages floated in my vision, but they looked different here. Sharper. Less like parchment scrolls unfurling, and more like hard blocks of data slamming into my optic nerve.

"We lived on top of this," I whispered. "The whole time. The fire node... the magma vents... it's just the radiator."

"The what?" Splitjaw asked.

"The exhaust pipe," I said, pointing at a massive conduit running parallel to our ascent. "We built a religion on a chimney, Splitjaw."

He stared at the machinery. "Does it burn?"

"Probably."

"Then it's fire," he decided stubbornly. "I don't care if it's fancy fire."

I had to respect that level of denial.

The platform accelerated. The machinery blurred. The air pressure dropped, popping my ears.

"Boss," Relay said, his voice tightening. "We're going really fast."

"I noticed."

"And the ceiling is coming up."

I looked up. Far above, the pinprick of angry red light was growing larger. It wasn't just a light anymore. It was a hole. The jagged rupture in the earth where the kitchen floor used to be.

The problem was, it was blocked.

Debris from the collapse—beams, mosscrete, probably Cinders' favorite stove—was wedged tight in the shaft.

"We're going to crash," Relay squeaked.

"We're going to breach," I corrected, drawing my sword.

The relic flared. But down here, connected to the pulse of the machine, it didn't just glow. It roared. The flames turned from orange to a blinding, plasma-blue. The handle grew hot enough to scorch my leather grip.

"System," I barked. "Requesting manual override of safety stops."

[Request Denied. User Unauthorized.]

[Override Code Required.]

"I am the Sovereign of Ashring!" I yelled at the air. "I am the one who kept the pilot light on for three years! Open the door!"

The System paused. It felt like it was thinking. Or maybe judging me.

[Identity Conflict Detected.]

[Scanning Relic...]

[Admin Key Recognized: Sovereign's First Flame.]

[Welcome back, Operator.]

The platform didn't slow down. It sped up.

"BRACE!" I screamed.

Splitjaw grabbed Relay and pulled him into the center of the platform. I planted my feet, raised the blue-burning sword, and aimed for the center of the blockage.

We hit the debris at terminal velocity.

I swung.

There was no sound of impact. Just a flash of light and the feeling of matter being unmade. The sword cut through stone and wood like they were smoke. The blockage didn't shatter; it vaporized.

We burst through the floor of the world.

***

We hit the air.

Gravity remembered us immediately. The platform slammed to a halt level with the ground, the sudden stop sending a shockwave of dust and force outward.

I stumbled, dropped to one knee, and gasped for air that actually tasted like air. Smoke. Ash. Dust.

Home.

"We're up!" Relay cheered, then immediately vomited over the side of the platform.

"Eyes up!" I snapped.

The dust cleared.

We weren't in the kitchen. We were in the middle of the village square. Or what was left of it.

Ashring was a warzone.

To my left, the main hall was burning. To my right, the barracks were a pile of kindling. And everywhere else, there were monsters.

Not the scavengers we'd fought before. These were the heavy hitters. Armored beetles the size of wagons. Wolves with spines of black crystal. And in the center of it all, smashing through the last line of defense like a toddler through a block tower, was Gorak.

He was huge. Corrupted. Glowing with that sickly purple light that meant 'bad news.'

Between him and the fleeing civilians stood a thin, ragged line.

Embergleam, her fire reduced to a flicker, holding a barrier that cracked with every blow.

Stonealign, bleeding from a head wound, swinging a hammer with one arm.

And Cinders, standing on a crate, throwing... were those flaming turnips?

"They're alive," Splitjaw breathed, pulling himself up on his good leg. He leaned on the railing, eyes scanning the chaos. "And they're losing."

Gorak raised a massive fist. He roared—a sound that shook the remaining roof tiles loose—and prepared to crush Embergleam flat.

She looked up. She didn't flinch. She just closed her eyes.

"Hey!" I shouted.

It wasn't a Sovereign's command. It wasn't a hero's challenge. It was just me, screaming at the top of my lungs because I was tired, I was sore, and I had just ridden an elevator from hell to get here.

Gorak froze.

The monsters paused.

Embergleam opened her eyes.

I stood on the platform, bathed in the fading blue light of the shaft, smoke curling from my fur, the First Flame burning with a cold, hard light in my hand.

Gorak turned slowly. His eyes—too many, too bright—locked onto me. He sniffed the air. He smelled the ozone. He smelled the machine scent clinging to us.

And for the first time, he looked unsure.

"Boss?" Relay whispered from behind me. "Everyone is looking at us."

"Good," I said. "Splitjaw. Can you fight?"

"If I don't have to walk? Yeah."

"Relay. Get to the shout-line. Tell them we're back."

"On it!"

I stepped off the platform. My boots hit the familiar, muddy, blood-stained earth of Ashring.

"System," I muttered. "Give me a threat assessment."

The blue box flickered. It glitched, text scrolling too fast to read, before settling on a new, terrifyingly simple message.

[Threat: Biological Contamination (Gorak)]

[Status: Purge Recommended]

[Asset: Deep Infrastructure Link Established]

[Sovereign Authority: Tier 2 Unlocked]

I didn't know what Tier 2 meant. But as I walked toward the massive, corrupted monster, the ground beneath my feet began to hum. Not the gentle purr of the platform. A deep, grinding vibration.

The village wasn't just shaking.

It was waking up.

Gorak roared again, a challenge this time, and charged.

I didn't raise my sword. I didn't dodge.

I slammed my hand onto the nearest mosscrete pillar—one Stonealign had reinforced a dozen times—and let the new, cold energy from the basement flow out of me and into the walls.

"Protocol," I whispered, the word tasting like metal on my tongue. "Defense."

The ground split open.

Not a crack. A seam.

A line of silver metal shot up from the dirt between me and Gorak, locking into place with a sound like a thunderclap. A barrier. A blast shield.

Gorak slammed into it face-first.

The impact knocked him backward. He shook his head, dazed, staring at the wall that hadn't been there a second ago.

Silence fell over the square.

Embergleam stared at me. "What... what was that?"

"Infrastructure," I said, my voice trembling just a little.

The ground rumbled again. Louder. From the hole we'd just exited, a siren began to wail—a low, mechanical mournful sound that echoed off the valley walls.

[Alert: Surface Breach Detected.]

[Initiating Protocol 99: Sterilization.]

The blue light from the shaft turned red.

I looked at Splitjaw. He looked at me.

"That sounds bad," he noted.

"Yeah," I said, watching red lights flicker to life along the base of the village walls. "I think I just turned the house alarm on."

Gorak roared, recovering his balance. The monsters surged forward.

And from the pit behind us, something metallic began to climb.

"Welcome home," I muttered. "Now let's try not to get deleted."

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