The light released him into stone again.
He staggered once, breath grinding out between clenched teeth, and let the axe take part of his weight. His thigh burned where the guardian's claw had split it, the bandage hot and sticky. Still, he was standing. Still, the vow was louder than the pain.
The new chamber wasn't wide. A fissure cut through the floor, steam coiling up in thin threads. The air tasted of iron and damp ash, thicker than before. Somewhere far above, water dripped in a steady tick-tick-tick that echoed like a countdown.
He turned a slow circle, checking every shadow. No movement yet. But the System wasn't silent for long.
[Cycle Three Initiated]
Environmental Shift: Heat Increase | Steam Pockets Present
Predator Density: +10%
Progression Hint: Ascend fissure → Strata Two (Mid-Tier)
"Mid-tier," he muttered. "So we're just done pretending this is fair."
He rolled his shoulders, tested the weight on his bad leg. It held. Enough to climb if he had to.
The fissure wasn't just a crack; it was a jagged throat leading upward. Edges sharp, lined with mineral growths that shimmered faintly blue. He set the axe haft across his back, lashed it with the resin strap, and dug in with his hands. Stone bit his palms. Every pull made the thigh flare like a coal under skin. He kept moving anyway.
Halfway up, heat bled stronger from vents in the wall. Steam hissed in his face, damp and choking. He pressed into a niche, wiped sweat from his eyes, and listened.
Not steam. Breath.
The fissure widened just ahead into a pocket chamber. A shape clung inverted to the ceiling, six limbs splayed wide, body armored in dull slate plates that pulsed faintly with heat. Its head dangled down, too long, mouth lined with teeth that dripped condensation like it was drinking the steam itself.
Callum froze. His pulse did not.
The creature shifted, claws scraping stone. Hunting. Waiting. The fissure forced him closer if he wanted the climb. No other way.
He slid the axe free in silence, blade pressed flat to the wall. His good leg coiled.
Then he moved.
The thing shrieked, dropping from the ceiling in a scalding blur of limbs and steam.
[Hostile Detected]
Classification: Steamclad Ambusher
Behavior: Ceiling Drop–Crush | Steam Cloak | Grapple
Advisory: Target joint seams at limb junctions
Callum raised the axe in both hands and met it mid-fall.
The Steamclad Ambusher hit like falling stone wrapped in fire.
Its limbs clamped, claws biting grooves into the wall around him. Steam burst from vents along its plated chest, a sudden scalding veil that blinded and burned. Callum twisted sideways into the heat, dragging the axe edge across his front like a shield.
His skin screamed under the steam. He set teeth, didn't give it a voice.
The thing's head darted down, teeth first, jaws snapping like bolt cutters. Callum shoved the haft crosswise into its mouth, felt teeth score wood, the strain bowstring-tight.
He didn't push back. He pivoted.
Weight shifted, the monster's bulk sagging toward open space. He yanked the haft down and aside. The Ambusher dropped half a foot, momentum spilling.
That's the angle.
He chopped upward, edge meeting the seam where limb met thorax. Metal-hard chitin resisted, then gave with a wet crunch. The limb went slack, dangling at a wrong angle.
The Ambusher shrieked, steam venting harder, turning the fissure into a scalding fog.
[Combat Status]
Enemy: Steamclad Ambusher
Weakness Exploited: Joint Seams
Enemy Integrity: 78%
Player Condition: Burned (Minor, Forearm), Fatigue Rising
Callum pressed low, shoulder against the stone, one knee wedged for leverage. He hacked again at the same junction, shorter stroke this time, brutal and ugly. The axe head wedged deep. He ripped it free sideways, tearing flesh and plate together.
The Ambusher swung a remaining limb, claws raking. One caught his side, shallow but hot, tearing cloth and skin. He grunted, turned with the force, and let himself slide two feet down the fissure wall rather than take the full blow.
His thigh burned white-hot from the slide. He ignored it.
The beast lunged again, jaws snapping for his head. He ducked under, close enough to smell wet iron in its breath. His off hand shot up, palm bracing the axe throat, and he drove the edge across the hinge of its neck.
Sparks skittered. Not deep enough.
It screamed into his face, steam blasting point-blank. Skin bubbled along his forearm.
He didn't flinch. He shoved in, pressing cheek to its armored chest, inside the arc of its teeth.
The axe punched once, twice, again. Fast, ugly chops at the same line until the plate cracked. Black ichor gushed hot over his wrist.
The Ambusher writhed, lost purchase on the wall. Together, they fell.
Callum rode it down, knees digging into its plated thorax. The chamber floor rose in a rush. He wrenched the axe free, raised it high, and let gravity help.
The blade came down through the crack in its neck.
Once.
Twice.
A third, final time—deep enough to split the shriek into silence.
The body hit the stone with a wet thunder, twitching once, then still.
Callum rolled off, landing hard on one shoulder. He stayed there, chest heaving, until the steam thinned enough to breathe.
His burns sang raw. His thigh screamed louder.
But he was alive.
The System chimed.
[Combat Result]
Enemy: Steamclad Ambusher
EXP Gained: 20
Loot Chance: Uncommon (Rolled: Success)
Loot Acquired: Steam Vent Plate (Uncommon), Limb Joint Core (Common)
Condition Updated: Minor Steam Burns (Forearm, Neck), Shallow Laceration (Side), Deep Laceration (Thigh, Bandaged)
EXP Progress: 26 / 80 (33%)
He leaned against the wall, pried the Vent Plate loose, its surface still warm, faintly pulsing. Could be made into a shield. Could be nothing. He stowed it anyway. The Joint
Core rolled in his palm, light but dense, humming faint like a heartbeat.
He bound his side with another strip of shirt, teeth clamped, then pulled himself upright again. The fissure still climbed.
He started upward once more.
The fissure narrowed again above, climbing like a broken staircase. Callum shoved off the cooling corpse, muscles stiff, burns stinging.
Every handhold was fire on his palms. He kept climbing anyway.
Steam thinned. Air cooled. The mineral shimmer dimmed to patches of faint glow. The higher he climbed, the sharper the stone edges grew, cutting shallow lines in his fingers. He counted each pull as if it were a cadence march. One. Two. Don't stop.
When the fissure finally widened, it spat him into a new gallery.
Not open like the grove. Cramped. Low ceiling, jagged floor, pockets of bubbling mud seeping between cracked stone. The heat returned, rolling up from the pools in slow, sulfurous waves.
He crouched by instinct. The place stank like rotten eggs and iron, but beneath that… something else. Musk. Predator.
The System agreed.
[Zone Entered: Fumarole Gallery]
Hazard: Steam Vents, Sulfur Gas (Mild Poison — Extended Exposure)
Predator Density: High
Exploration Hint: Mud Pools conceal resource nodes. Beware ambush predators.
"Ambush again," he muttered. "Figures."
The first vent popped — a sharp hiss, a gout of steam that left a ring of scorched rock. He marked the cadence: four seconds. Steady.
Movement.
Not steam. Not gas.
The mud rippled.
Something pushed through — a narrow head, long jaw, teeth fine as needles. The body followed, eel-slick but armored in patches of scaled plating. It dragged itself forward on half-formed limbs, belly still half-submerged in muck. Behind it, another ripple. Then another.
Callum set his back to the wall, raised the axe.
Three shapes slid free of the mud, circling slow, their eyes glowing faint green in the haze.
[Hostiles Detected]
Classification: Mire Serpents (Juvenile) x3
Behavior: Circle–Distract–Strike
Advisory: Watch for coordinated lunges | Vulnerable at gill vents
The first hissed, mouth opening wider than its body seemed built for. The other two flanked, mud sliding off their scales in ropes.
Callum didn't wait for them to move first. He stepped forward into the one in front, axe low, edge sweeping upward at the gills flashing on its neck.
The cut landed. Blood sprayed in a fan of black and green. The serpent writhed, snapping its jaws, body thrashing against stone.
The other two struck in the same instant.
One hit his calf, teeth raking shallow but hot, locking like fishhooks. The other slammed his side, jaws skidding across the resin strap, failing to pierce deep. He roared, twisted, and dropped the axe head into the one on his leg.
Bone cracked. Teeth tore free. Pain followed like a flood.
He swung again, backhand this time, cleaving into the second serpent's flank. The blade caught, stuck in bone. He wrenched it free sideways, ripping flesh until the thing shrieked and collapsed in a convulsion.
The last serpent circled again, tail lashing, mud spraying. Its gills flared wide as it hissed.
Callum's thigh burned, side throbbed, arm shook from the last wrench, but the vow steadied him. He lowered the axe, baited the lunge.
It came, fast, jaws wide.
He met it with an upward strike so hard the haft rang. The axe split gills and skull together, sinking halfway through.
The serpent went still, head cleaved nearly in two.
Mud steamed black around him. His breath came sharp, ragged, chest pumping like a bellows.
The System chimed.
[Combat Result]
Enemies: Mire Serpents x3
EXP Gained: 9 + 9 + 9 = 27
Loot Chance: Common (Rolled: 2 Successes)
Loot Acquired: Gill Vent Membrane (C), Serpent Fang (C x2)
Condition Updated: Laceration (Calf — Minor), Side Bruise (Moderate), Burns (Forearm, Neck)
EXP Progress: 53 / 80 (66%)
He pulled the membrane free, sticky and translucent, and tied it over his bleeding calf.
Good enough for now. He pocketed the fangs, wiped the axe edge clean on a cooling corpse, and looked up.
The gallery's far wall climbed again, this time into an arched tunnel veined with faint blue glow. A progression path. Another trial waiting.
Callum spat once, tasting iron. His grip on the axe tightened until the tremor stilled.
Then he started forward.
The corpses steamed in the mud, their blood curling into the sulfur haze. Callum stood among them, chest heaving, axe dripping black-green ichor that smoked where it touched the hot stone.
The System's panel faded, leaving only the steady burn of his wounds and the rasp of his breath. His calf ached, his side throbbed, and every blister on his forearm screamed with each movement. But he was upright. He was armed. He was not finished.
He bent, scooped the last of the mud-water to his lips, and spat the taste of rot onto the floor.
The axe came back to his shoulder like an old comrade.
The tunnel ahead climbed, the faint blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat in the rock. Another trial. Another gate. Another chance to bleed, and another chance to rise.
He rolled his shoulders, testing the strength left in them, and took the first step.
The chamber behind him quieted. The dungeon waited.
And Callum moved on.