Smoke still drifted a little from Betsy's shiny stacks. The smell, a mix of burnt monster and damp earth, was heavy in the ruined square.
Ryder leaned against Betsy's solid frame. Her warmth was a small comfort in this very strange place.
His bandaged thigh throbbed with a steady, dull ache. It was a familiar feeling, reminding him of old injuries from places that now felt very far away.
This was annoying, he decided, but manageable.
The adrenaline from the fight was leaving him. He felt tired now, and he really needed to understand what was going on.
New place, strange monsters, now a mission underground. It almost felt like a standard mission, the pattern of threat and action was familiar, but the details...
The details were impossibly weird. Nothing in basic training, nothing in his desert missions, had prepared him for this.
Captain Hessa, the town's leader, gave a short nod.
She seemed tired but capable, like someone just barely holding things together.
"The way down is close," she said, her voice flat. "The old market collapsed more when the beast first showed up. Tore open a cellar entrance. The strange energy is strongest there."
"Understood. Found the entry point," Ryder replied, shifting his weight off his hurt leg.
He tried to act cool and professional, like he'd practiced for years, even though inside, his mind was racing, trying to make sense of impossible things.
Going underground. Okay, he knew tunnels. Bad lighting, tight spaces, possible ambushes. The why was different, but the how felt almost normal.
Hessa pointed towards the shadows near a broken fountain. A figure stepped out and moved forward.
Ryder watched him come closer. Young, maybe late teens, but his eyes looked alert and careful, like someone who'd seen too much trouble.
He's thin but strong, holding a makeshift spear, sharpened scrap metal tied with leather. Practical. Wearing patched rags, moving with the quiet way a hunter moves. This kid knew how to survive here.
"This is Rigg," Hessa said, her voice softening just a little. "Our best scout. Sharp eyes, good ears. Knows the tunnels best. He'll guide you."
Rigg gave a jerky nod. His eyes flicked nervously between Ryder and Betsy, staying longer on the massive truck.
Ryder could almost see the thoughts behind the kid's eyes: wonder, fear, deep suspicion. He held himself ready, always scanning around him. Good instincts, Ryder noted again. Definitely survived this long for a reason.
"Heard you rode… that," Rigg finally muttered, his voice rough, maybe from not talking much or from fear. He nodded towards Betsy. "Loud."
"She makes an entrance," Ryder confirmed dryly. He decided explaining the truck that was alive, could jump between worlds, and talk could wait. Baby steps. "Especially on things that bleed weird goo."
Hessa stepped forward, holding out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. "Standard tunnel kit. It's what we have."
Ryder took the items, his hands automatically checking the unfamiliar gear. Habit helped him stay calm when reality felt like it was falling apart.
First, a roll of rough linen. "Treated," Hessa added. "Helps stop strange bleeding. Sometimes." Ryder felt the rough cloth.
Magic bandage? Like something out of a fantasy game his nephew played. Okay. He mentally filed it under 'weird but maybe useful'.
Next was a tightly wrapped packet of hard, dense biscuits. "Rations?" Ryder asked, lifting the small package. It felt rock-hard.
"Food to keep you going," Hessa corrected. Looked hard as a rock. Better than nothing, he supposed.
She then handed him a dull, smooth rod about the length of his hand, made of some kind of chalky, cool stuff.
Hessa tapped one end sharply against her armored glove. The rod instantly started to give off a weak, steady yellow light from inside.
Right... magic light source. Like a chemical glow stick. Got it. More weirdness.
"Rigg will lead. Trust him down there," Hessa instructed, her look serious.
Ryder nodded, putting the strange glow rod in his pocket. His head felt full of impossible things.
Just follow orders, figure it out later. Follow the mission plan. "Got it. Follow the scout, avoid danger, take care of the target, whatever that is."
He glanced towards the collapsed market, the dark opening that looked dangerous. "Let's get this done. Betsy's waiting on that new seat." The thought of the seat upgrade felt strangely normal, which felt calming in the middle of the chaos.
He turned to the scout. "Alright, Rigg. Lead the way."
Rigg gave a quick nod, turning and moving back toward the rubble like he'd done it many times. Hessa gave Ryder one final look that seemed to size him up, before turning to gather the other villagers.
Ryder walked to the entrance. A jagged crack where a building had fallen flat, broken wood framing a dark opening.
Cool, damp air came out of it, smelling of wet earth, rot, and that faint metal taste underneath that reminded him something was wrong with this place.
He looked back at Betsy's massive shape, then at the narrow opening.
Yeah, no way she's fitting down there. "Guess you're staying up here, girl?" he murmured, patting the truck's solid metal side.
He wasn't sure if she needed him to say it, but doing it felt right.
As Ryder and Rigg reached the edge of the opening, Betsy's massive shape behind them shimmered.
She turned into tiny bits of blue light and flow towards Ryder, sinking into him.
Rigg swung his legs over the edge, finding spots for his feet on rough steps cut in the dirt wall and going down almost silently.
Ryder took a breath, the damp, earthy smell filling his lungs, and followed. His limp made him go down slower, clumsier, and louder than the scout. He hated feeling slow.
Just as his boots touched the tunnel floor, he felt a buzzing feeling inside him, and a small shimmer of blue light formed near his shoulder. It turned into a clear, tiny image of a blonde woman in overalls, with grease smudges that somehow looked digital.
"Hey sugar!" The glowing hologram, about hand sized, hovered in the air, showing a strange digital smirk.
Rigg, turning back, jumped back, lifting his spear to defend himself. "By the spirits! What's that?" he hissed, eyes wide with real fear.
Ryder saw the kid tremble slightly. A Magic Metal Box was one thing, a talking ghost-light appearing from nowhere was probably another level of scary for these people.
"Easy, Rigg," Ryder said calmly, holding up a hand to calm him down. "That's Betsy. I think?" He was guessing too, trying to sound like he understood any of this.
"Just 'cause the main body won't fit down a hole barely big enough for a badger doesn't mean I'm leaving you alone, hotshot," the glowing projection piped up.
Her voice was clear, very clear in the small space, seeming to come directly from the floating image. "I'm a part of you. And if you get into trouble, I can give you advice on what to do."
Rigg stared, lowering his spear slowly, the look on his face somewhere between scared and not believing it. "It... speaks?"
"And drives. And apparently shrinks," Ryder muttered, mostly to himself, still trying to understand it. My backup is a pocket sized spirit hologram of my dream truck. Right. Makes perfect sense.
"Hey, this pocket sized spirit has access to... well, everything," the Betsy image shot back, sounding a little offended. "Speaking of which..."
Red text flashed in the edge of Ryder's vision, clear against the dark tunnel.
[WARNING: FULL TRUCK POWERS UNAVAILABLE] [REASON: ENERGY LEVELS TOO LOW] [TRUCK POWERS LIMITED]
"See?" the image gestured with a tiny, projected wrench that looked completely out of place.
"Can't use my big powers down here without more energy. It's bad for me." She paused, the projection seeming to brighten. "But, good news. You did good fighting that monster, so we got something."
A soft chime echoed, like it was inside his head. A pleasant sound, strangely out of place.
[BONUS REWARD GIVEN] [WEAPONS AVAILABLE - FIRST CHOICE FREE]
Ryder blinked. Weapons? This whole thing just kept getting weirder. How did any of this work?
"Weapons? Like a sword?" he asked, strangely picturing knights and dragons.
"Better," the projection said, sounding pleased.
[AVAILABLE WEAPONS - FREE CHOICE]
REINFORCED DOOR SHIELD (DEFENSE/UTILITY)
Description: Strong metal from the driver's door, changed so you can use it. Has straps built in. Gives good protection.
LICENSE PLATE BLADE (CLOSE COMBAT) Description: Piece of Betsy's back license plate, broken and sharpened. Strong, and feels good in your hand.
Shield for defense in tight spaces, blade for close fighting. Practical choices.
Ryder mentally focused on choosing both, a strange feeling, like using a muscle he didn't know he had.
Blue light flared briefly beside him. Two objects appeared out of nowhere, landing softly on the dirt floor with almost no sound.
One was clearly Betsy's driver side door, looking thicker, heavier, almost like a weapon, with strong leather straps on the inside.
The other was a mean-looking blade made from the jagged metal of her license plate, the edge shining sharp even in the weak yellow light of the glow rod. Seeing parts of his dream truck turned into makeshift weapons felt… strange. Wrong, almost. But he needed them.
Rigg flinched again when the items suddenly appeared, muttering something like a prayer. His eyes were wide, staring at the new gear, looking very scared. This was clearly way beyond anything he'd ever seen.
Ryder bent, ignoring the throb in his leg, and picked up the items. The door felt good and solid strapped to his left arm, heavy but balanced. He tested the weight of the license plate blade in his right hand. Rough, yes, but it felt solid, dangerous. It would work.
"Makeshift gear," Ryder noted, a bit of dark satisfaction cutting through the weirdness.
Back to basics. Improvise, adapt, overcome. "Resourceful."
The Betsy image floated closer, seeming to check out his new gear. "Mmm. Scrap heap warrior. I approve."
"Save the talk for whatever we find down here," Ryder replied.
He turned to Rigg, who was now looking at the floating spirit with careful interest and still some fear. "Alright, Rigg. We're ready. Lead on."
Rigg gave the projection one last doubtful look, clearly unsure what to make of it, then turned and began to move deeper into the tunnel.
He moved even more carefully now, maybe a little awed or scared. He moved very carefully, like he was afraid to disturb something.
Going down at first was cold, tight, and dark.
The glow rod made shadows dance, but didn't light things up well, making the small space feel even smaller. Water dripped nearby, each drop echoing. Rigg moved ahead, stopping often to listen.
The tiny Betsy image floated near Ryder's shoulder. She was quiet now, a small light in the dark.
"Stay tight," Rigg's voice echoed softly, barely a whisper. He pointed his spear tip at scuff marks on the packed earth floor that were hard to see. "Marked path. Safer. Move quiet. Sound travels down here."
"Understood," Ryder whispered back, focusing on placing his feet carefully, trying not to make noise with his uneven steps. "What's off the path?"
Rigg shook his head, gripping his spear so tight his knuckles turned white. "Things you don't want to find," he whispered back, his voice tight with fear.
"Pits you don't see. Just... stay on the marks." The simple warning made the danger feel very real.
They continued, maybe fifty yards deeper into the earth. The rough steps ended, and the tunnel floor became level.
Things started to change slowly. The damp earth walls smoothed out, becoming strangely smooth, almost shiny, and reflected the weak light like they were wet.
The air got warmer and stuffy, losing its underground coldness. The dripping stopped. Instead, there was that low pulse he could barely hear.
It was stronger now, a slow, heavy pulse he felt more than heard. Unsettling.
Ryder brushed his hand against the wall. It felt strangely soft, like cool, damp leather stretched tight over something hard.
Warm. Definitely warm to the touch. He pulled his hand back quickly, wiping it on his pants without thinking. "Okay, this tunnel just got weird," he muttered, feeling more uneasy. This wasn't natural.
"Agreed. Energy readings around us are jumping all over the place," the Betsy image whispered, losing its usual sass. "This place feels unstable. Like bad magic ready to explode. If I start talking nonsense, clear your head. Focus."
"Roger that," Ryder grumbled, gripping his blade tighter. The rough handle suddenly didn't feel like enough. The pulsing felt stronger here, like the rock itself had a heartbeat.
They continued deeper into the strange, warm, smooth tunnel. The silence pressed in, thick and heavy, broken only by their soft footsteps and the distant, unsettling pulse.
Rigg stayed very alert, tense like a coiled spring, his spear held ready, often stopping to listen hard for sounds Ryder couldn't hear over the pulsing.
Fifty feet further down the tunnel, the glow rod suddenly died.
A sputter, a weak flicker, a final hiss of fading light, then gone.
Total darkness fell like a heavy weight. The tiny Betsy image winked out at the same time, leaving only her voice echoing faintly in his head before that stopped too.
A silent moment of pure darkness. Ryder felt his heart pound against his ribs. Blind. They were completely blind. Ryder dropped into a low crouch without thinking, raising the door shield, gripping the blade hard.
His training screamed for action, but the darkness felt like a solid wall. He listened hard, but only heard the blood rushing in his ears. The silence felt tense, like it was about to break.
And then it did. A dry, scraping sound echoed from somewhere ahead in the dark.