The maintenance vent was a narrow, lead-lined throat of rusted iron. It was never intended for human passage, let alone a squad of four combatants in full tactical gear. The heat inside the shaft was oppressive, a heavy and wet blanket that smelled of sulfur and ancient scale. Above them, the primary steam pipes of the Iron Labyrinth groaned under immense pressure. They screamed with a high-pitched whistle that vibrated through the very marrow of Vane's bones.

Vane led the way. He had his star-steel spear disassembled and strapped to his back to save space in the tight conduit. He moved with a rhythmic, sliding motion. He was using the Argent Horizon to minimize the friction of his suit against the metallic walls. Every inch of forward progress was a lesson in spatial geometry. He had to calculate the position of his elbows and knees to ensure he did not strike the iron casing. In the silence between the steam whistles, even a small metallic clink could be fatal.

Behind him, he could hear the ragged breathing of Ashe. The Oni was forced into a state of agonizing restraint. For a warrior whose entire combat style was built on explosive, supersonic movement, this cramped darkness was a special kind of hell. Her obsidian horns scraped against the top of the vent every few meters. The sound was a low, grating vibration that made her snarl in frustration. Her crimson markings were glowing a dull, angry red in the shadows.

"Control your pulse, Ashe," Vane whispered. His voice was barely a ripple in the ambient noise. "If your mana flares here, you will melt the lead lining. The thermal sensors in the main hall will pick up the spike instantly. We cannot afford to be hunted before we reach the hub."

"I know," Ashe rasped back. Her red eyes were glowing in the dark, two coals of suppressed violence. "But if I have to crawl another mile in this tin can, I am going to kick my way out. It feels like the walls are getting smaller. My blood is boiling, Vane. I need to strike something."

"They are not getting smaller," Isole's voice came from behind Ashe. It was calm and cool despite the stifling heat. "The dimensions of the shaft are constant. Your perception of the space is being warped by your psychological rejection of the confinement. Focus on the Samsara loop. Visualize the cycle of the steam and the turning of the gears. Become part of the machinery."

Valerica brought up the rear. Her violet aura was pulled so tight around her body that she looked like a shimmering statue. She was using her authority to subtly lighten the weight of the entire squad. This ensured that the support brackets of the vent did not groan or snap under their collective mass. It was a tiring, technical application of gravity that left her face pale. She did not complain, but Vane could feel her fatigue through the link of their formation.

Vane reached a heavy iron grate that looked out into one of the primary corridors. He stopped. He held his breath as he peered through the slats. The hallway beyond was a masterpiece of industrial nightmare. Thousands of brass pipes ran along the ceiling, weeping orange condensation. The floor was made of heavy iron grates. Beneath them, Vane could see the glowing red cores of the floor's heating system.

He did not see any Iron Stalkers. Instead, he saw the aftermath of a massacre.

Vane kicked the grate open with a soft, controlled strike. He dropped into the hallway. His boots hit the metal with a dull thud. It was muffled by a micro-pulse of gravity from Valerica, who followed immediately after. Ashe and Isole landed beside them. Their eyes widened as they took in the carnage.

Four students lay scattered across the iron grates. They were a squad from the Silver Tower, mid-tier nobles who had performed well in the First Practical. They had not been killed by constructs. They were frozen solid. They looked like macabre ice sculptures. Their bodies were encased in thick, translucent blocks of jagged frost. One student was caught in the middle of a defensive chant. His hand was raised and his mouth was open. The frost had moved so fast it had turned his very breath into a deadly spear of ice.

"This is not normal frost magic," Isole noted. She knelt beside one of the frozen students. She did not touch the ice. She just hovered her hand inches away. "The thermal energy in this sector hasn't just been lowered. It has been erased. This ice is maintaining its structural integrity despite the intense steam-heat of the pipes. This is a conceptual absolute."

Ashe stepped back, her usual bravado wavering for a split second. She looked at the frozen expressions of the noble students. "I remember that feeling. In the Turbine Hall. When Isaac stood there and the world just... stopped. It felt like my very soul was being turned into glass."

Valerica looked down the long, metallic corridor. A trail of white rime covered the floor. It led toward the Central Hub. "He isn't just clearing the path. He is marking his territory. He wants the other squads to see this. He wants them to know that the Labyrinth belongs to the Monarch. He is telling us that the rules of the academy do not apply here."

Vane walked over to the frozen leader of the squad. He did not use Usurper to audit anything. He simply looked at the way the ice had formed. He noticed the direction of the crystalline growth and the absolute smoothness of the cuts on the metal pipes nearby.

'He didn't even stop to fight them,' Vane thought. 'There are no signs of a struggle. No scorch marks from their fire spells. No scratches on the floor from their boots. Isaac just walked past them, and they ceased to be a factor. The efficiency is horrifying.'

"He used a high-output spell," Vane analyzed, his voice low. "Probably a localized blizzard. This squad was Rank 12 on the practical board. They were not weak, but against him, they were just obstacles. He didn't even draw a weapon. He never does."

"He is mocking us," Ashe said. She kicked at a piece of frozen scrap metal. The metal shattered like glass. The shards clattered across the iron floor with a sound that felt too loud in the silence. "He knows we are behind him. He is leaving these bodies as a warning. He is faster than us, and he is stronger than us."

"Do not let his shadow get inside your head," Vane said. He looked at Ashe and then at Valerica. He could see the apprehension in their eyes. They remembered the overwhelming pressure of the Frost Monarch's mana. "He is just a man with a large pool of energy. Logic still applies to him. If we let the fear dictate our pace, we have already lost."

Vane triggered his internal mechanism to keep his focus sharp.

[Skill: Internal Pulse, Grade B]

He felt his heart rate steady. His blood flow optimized, cooling his body against the heat of the labyrinth. He used the skill to synchronize his senses. He needed to be perfect to close the gap.

"We cannot follow his trail directly," Isole warned. "The ice is acting as a sensory network. The moment we step on that frost, Isaac will know our exact weight and our current speed. He is baiting us into a direct confrontation on his terms. He wants us to walk through the front door of his frozen kingdom."

"We stick to the maintenance sub-levels," Vane commanded. "We move through the piston chambers. It will be louder, and the heat will be dangerous, but the vibration of the pistons will mask our presence. We will approach the hub from the side vents."

They moved back into the maintenance passages. The heat in the piston chambers was agonizing. Massive iron columns slammed up and down with the force of a falling mountain. They created a rhythmic thunder that shook the floor. Vane timed their movements to the beat of the machines.

'Step. Wait. Pulse. Move,' Vane coached himself.

He watched his squad. Valerica was sweating. Her silk blouse was clinging to her skin. Her eyes were like flint. Isole was in a deep trance. Her bone staff was glowing with a protective grey light that shielded them from the worst of the radiant heat. Ashe moved through the moving machinery with a terrifying grace. The loud, violent rhythm of the pistons seemed to soothe her.

They were a mile from the Hub when they found the second group of victims. These were three Iron Stalkers and a Rank 4 Heavy Guardian. The massive bronze machine had been sliced into perfect, frozen segments. It looked like a diagram in a textbook. Isaac had used the steam in the room to create a pressurized ice-blade. It had cut through five inches of reinforced bronze without slowing down.

Vane stopped to look at the cut. It was smooth. There were no jagged edges.

'He is not even using his full power,' Vane realized. A cold knot formed in his stomach. 'He is practicing. He is refining his output on the constructs as if they were training dummies. He is waiting for us to catch up so he can test his evolution.'

Vane looked at his own hands. They were calloused. He thought about the Silver Fang and the Argent Horizon. He was the rat who had climbed out of the well. He was currently chasing a god through a cage of his own making.

"Vane," Valerica whispered. her hand rested on his shoulder. "I can feel the cold ahead. It is getting stronger. We are close."

Vane took a deep breath. The hot air burned his lungs. He looked at her and nodded. "I know. We are approaching the Cathedral. Isole, give me the layout."

Isole projected a small image from her staff. "The Iron Cathedral is the central nexus of Floor 2. It is where the steam from the entire floor is regulated. The Rank 5 Sentinel is the guardian of the primary valve. The ten keys are housed inside its torso. To get to Floor 3, we must enter that room."

"And Isaac is already there," Vane said.

"Yes," Isole replied. "His mana-signature is stationary. He has reached the Hub. But he hasn't killed the Sentinel yet. He is waiting. He has neutralized the surrounding area and is just... standing there."

"He wants to see us," Ashe said. A dark grin spread across her face. She cracked her knuckles. The sound was lost in the thunder of the pistons. "He wants to see if the rat has grown any teeth since the midterm."

"Let's not keep the Monarch waiting," Vane said. He clicked the star-steel sections of his spear back into place. The weapon sang as the mana-veins reconnected. "We enter from the upper catwalks. We do not engage until I give the word. This is a 4v4. We take his squad out first."

They moved toward the final set of heavy doors. The air began to grow colder with every step. The frost on the walls was becoming thicker. The hiss of the steam was being drowned out by a low, humming silence.

Vane led his squad to the edge of the maintenance hatch overlooking the Cathedral. He did not open it yet. He just listened. He could hear the faint, crystalline sound of ice forming on metal. He could feel the weight of Isaac's presence pressing against the door.

He looked at Ashe, Valerica, and Isole. They were ready. They were the Calamities. They were about to walk into the heart of the winter. Vane placed his hand on the lever of the hatch.

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