Evalin, the squad's medic, considered it an honor to work under the senior mage during this expedition. As a newly appointed researcher, she had proven herself as a specialist in medical service and could provide first aid if necessary. But she hadn't been prepared to deal with something like this.
In front of her lay six of her comrades, weakly nodding their heads. She didn't know what kind of illness had struck them. After a thorough examination and questioning, she couldn't determine the nature of the disease. The pale, yellowish tint of their faces and general weakness could have been caused by severe poisoning from the dead aether in the surroundings — or might have been the first signs of ore infection. She tried not to think about the latter, though the thought crossed her mind more than once.
That infected man, who seemed to know all the dangers of this place, filled her with unease through his carefree behavior. As far as she could tell, this could indicate that the infected had developed emotional numbness toward his surroundings — something observed in the later stages of infection. Evalin knew there was no longer any way to help him. She could feel it just from the eerie nature of the dead aether leaking from him, like from a small reactor.
As an aether user with a synchronization level of 23%, she could clearly feel the violent currents of contamination in this labyrinth. But even they felt like a light breeze compared to the infected one. This was the first time she had seen a case this advanced. Mostly because in Volkraag, as in other states, infection was strictly monitored. Within the walls of the Academy under the Church of Aurora, she had participated in operations on infected individuals, gaining invaluable experience. That's why she couldn't allow someone like him to stay too close to her weakened comrades.
"Master Mearin, please, allow us to evacuate! I understand how important this mission is to the Institute, but the losses are too severe!" — she gathered the courage to suggest.
Opposite her, the senior mage and the priest-investigator remained in heavy silence.
"Hah, she's right, Mearin. We can't ignore the dangers of this place. Who knows what might happen if we push any further?"
The words of both Evalin, as a medic, and Tas, as a priest, carried weight. More than half of their squad had already suffered by the second week. Between the first incident — Fenar's disappearance — and the second — the mass illness — no more than 24 hours had passed. It was notable that everything started with the appearance of that trio with the infected one. In particular, the infected's presence in their group, even from a distance, made the squad extremely uneasy.
But Mearin was firm in his judgment.
"If we retreat now, we won't be able to get here again this quickly. As we already know, the anthill is soaked through with dead aether. The traps will appear again and again — and next time, we won't be able to say for sure that the path we laid out won't be buried under rubble."
Priest Tas, seeing his friend's stubbornness, sighed and tried to change his mind.
"Mearin, I don't doubt your abilities, but you should understand the situation clearly. You're no longer the kind of mage who blindly follows orders. Your people are dying before your eyes! You have to make a choice — your people or your career."
Evalin looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Teacher..."
With a tired sigh, Mearin measured them with a weary look.
"It's not only about my career... but you're right, I can't risk your lives. Tas, please, take the sick and head for the exit with them. I'll continue the investigation."
Priest Tas frowned, while Evalin nearly sprang from her seat.
"Teacher...! You can't! It's too dangerous even for you! The labyrinth is crawling with traps! And besides... what if you can't find the way out?!"
Mearin, without taking his eyes off his student, gave her a weary smile and stood up.
"I'm sure that won't happen. You'll see — I'll return with good news. Besides... who said I'll be going alone? I'd bet that kid would sell his own mother for a crate of snack bars. Let alone agree to escort an old man."
The priest gave a tired smirk.
"You really haven't changed. Still the same fool. If that's your final decision, I'll do as you ask. Just know this: I'll be waiting for you at the exit. Don't keep me waiting too long, idiot."
The lips of the two elderly men curled into a faint smile as they shook hands for the last time.
Evalin couldn't persuade her teacher, and all she could do was trust him.
"May the stars bless your path," was all the girl said before bowing deeply and seeing him off with her eyes.
Some time later, the entire group, except for the senior mage, moved toward the surface under the guidance of Priest Tas. Meanwhile, Mearin, taking two hover bags with him, approached Sayren. The young man envied the mage's abilities, but still showed no emotion.
"So I take it your plans have changed again?" — Sayren asked with a squint.
Mearin didn't answer the question, merely handing him a bag of provisions.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my promise — you won't be left here."
Sayren accepted the backpack, but still didn't respond. He'd be lying if he said he was pleased with the situation. The strongest member of the group stayed behind with him, while the others went off into the unknown. It seemed to him the mage had made a suicidal choice. But judging by the abilities Sayren had already witnessed, he doubted anything could happen to Mearin.
"Are you sure you can guarantee my safety?" — Sayren asked.
Mearin didn't hesitate to answer:
"I'm more than convinced of your ability to avoid the traps of the labyrinth. If you don't lead me into a suicidal trap, I won't harm you. But for some reason, I think there's nothing more important to you than your own life."
Sayren could only grumble at his words. In essence, they left him no choice and used him as a navigator without even consulting him. But what could he do? He was powerless before such powerful people and certainly wasn't going to provoke them.
So they proceeded downward, deeper into the anthill. Sayren didn't know what drove Mearin, just as he didn't know the value of this place. To him, it was just a space full of potential dangers that he had stumbled into by accident.
"We've been walking together for quite a while, but you've been silent the whole time like a fish against the ice. Don't you have any questions for me?" — Mearin suddenly asked, not turning around.
Sayren froze for a second, surprised by his words. Throwing a stone at another node of aether concentration, he looked at the senior mage. The explosion roared where it landed, disarming the trap:
"Why would I ask you anything? And don't you hate me?"
Mearin was once again surprised by Sayren's ability to accurately detect trap locations. After a short pause, he replied:
"I have no particular prejudices about the infected. To me, you're just lost people with a hard fate. Besides, I think you'd make a pretty good conversationalist. If your story is to be believed, you've spent your whole life in the mines. So where did you get such a lively manner of speech and awareness of things?"
Sayren was silent for a moment, but eventually replied:
"I had a good friend. He was a lonely old man who'd lost his family. At the end of his life, he ended up in slavery and looked after me. He often told me about the outside world and everything in it."
Mearin was surprised. He wouldn't have guessed that this child carried such a complicated backstory.
"And what do you think of the outside world? You've spent so much time in isolation and oppression. I'm sure you've got your grievances against the world."
Sayren looked at Mearin's aged smile. His eyes were bright, and although his face had lost its former glow, it still looked noble. He must've been quite popular with women in the past.
"If I tell you — you'll immediately start having negative thoughts about me. So why do you ask? Or do you just want to make sure I should be gotten rid of right away?"
Mearin merely chuckled:
"You really are a smart guy. It's a pity fate dealt you such a harsh hand. I'm sure you would've made a good member of society."
"Forget it. Even a blind man can see that society will never accept the infected."
Mearin didn't respond. Instead, he changed the subject:
"So, do you have any questions for me? Or maybe something you'd like to do once we get out of here?"
Sayren continued to avoid the traps, answering along the way:
"For starters, I'd like to get out from underground. I've already forgotten what it's like... to see the sky."
He wasn't a fool. There wasn't a single chance they'd leave him unsupervised. At best, they'd just dump him on the surface and go elsewhere. According to Old Ke, Sayren knew the surface teemed with all sorts of dangers. Without help, he definitely wouldn't survive. But even so, even if he was doomed to die, he would rather die on the surface — breathing open air and gazing at the sky. Of
course, it would be nice to survive, but the odds were clearly not in his favor.
With such heavy thoughts, Sayren wandered through the anthill under Mearin's guidance, helping him avoid the traps.
At the same time, on the other side of the anthill…
A black-haired girl struggled with all her might to fend off the onslaught of enormous ants. Her spells desperately tried to push the enemy back, while three of her comrades fought in close combat. Sparks of aether and the sounds of battle shook the cave. The iron mandibles of one ant locked onto a fighter's arm, while five more insects charged with unnatural, frenzied strength.
"Why..? Why did it all turn out like this..?" — Evalin raged to herself, unleashing another vortex of aether at one of the ants. The spell merely scratched the tough chitin, unable to inflict significant damage.
Six mages, unable even to rise, were forced to watch their comrades die one by one — until the monstrous mandibles reached them as well...