Heart pounding, Rick dragged Moya across the flower thicket and dumped him by the mysterious round lake, too wary to approach.
A layer of heat hovered over the lake, carrying not the expected stench but a faint whiff of charred rock. Rick dipped a rag into the water—it wasn't hot, just warm and slimy. Rubbing the cloth, white powder clung to it: salt deposits.
Examining the lake's edge, he saw overturned rocks and, through the clear water, a massive concave pit below—like a giant force had erupted from the depths, piercing the lakebed. Flipping through his booklet, Rick matched the lake to a Hell's Corridor fault line. Maybe a comet impact had bored a tunnel from the earth's crust to the surface...
As water trickled past Moya, he jolted awake. "Where am I? The sea?" he croaked.
"Lake water hit your wound—it's salty." Rick hauled him onto a rock.
Moya winced, pointing to his backpack. "Treat my injuries..."
"Me?" Rick hesitated. "Just let them air out." He splashed water on Moya, who spasmed.
"Kill me now if you want..." Moya snarled, eyes blazing.
"Bear with it." Rick grinned, splashing faster. Screams echoed as blood mixed with water, flowing into the rocks. Soon, Moya was coated in white salt, eyes rolling back as he curled up.
Rick rummaged through the backpack, thrilled by the gear he couldn't afford. "I'm dying..." Moya mumbled.
"Teach me to apply medicine."
"Read the manual..."
"Can't read much. Just tell me which one."
"Fine, leave me be." Moya grabbed a vial, pouring liquid over his wounds.
To distract him, Rick asked: "Who are you? Why with that hunter team?"
"I'm a support hunter—half-hunter. My egg isn't combat-type..."
"So you're their scout?"
"Yeah. They can't hunt without me..." Moya gritted his teeth. "Any more questions? You're annoying..."
"Why choose a dung beetle egg?"
"Please, go away..." Moya turned, lapsing into unconsciousness.
"Passed out again?" Rick munched on dry rations, eyeing the lake. Maybe the bottom was the way out.
As time passed, the sun baked white salt around the lake. Rick filled a vial with the salt—amazingly, it healed Moya's wounds to faint scars.
Suddenly, the lake bubbled, water swirling into a vortex. A dull rumble rose from the pit, which swallowed the water like a beast's maw. The lake level dropped to knee-height.
Moya woke, wiping salt from his face. "Any more flares?"
"Plenty—sky was full when you first blacked out." Rick asked, "How long till they arrive?"
"Not soon. Few come here, and the terrain's tricky—I was lucky to find this place." Moya flexed his arm. "The water worked wonders..."
"Your fault we're here. How do we escape?" Rick handed back the backpack. "Take it. Let's part ways."
Moya hesitated, then said softly: "Why not team up? I can scout for you."
"Why? Still want to hurt me?" Rick tensed.
"Even if I did, I'm too weak." Moya packed his gear. "Hear my proposal: cooperate. I'll be your guide."
Rick paused. Moya's scouting skills were real, and the backpack's supplies were tempting.
"Why? Are you still worried about something?" Moya pressed.
"I... I just don't understand why you're doing this. Is it guilt for getting me into this mess?" Rick remained wary.
"Not really. You did steal our egg—that's a fact." Moya changed tone. "Truth is, I want to earn enough to buy a combat egg..."
"Haha, you want to be a real hunter too?" Rick mused. "Your old team won't let you off easy if we partner."
"Pfft..." Moya snorted. "I've seen through them. Captain Lant was okay, but the rest treated me like dirt."
"Ah, I get it..." Rick nodded, lowering his guard. "Welcome to the rebellion."
"Wait, hold on. If we do this, we need to iron out details."
"Funny—you're the one begging to team up, but now you act like I'm groveling..." Rick shot him a look.
"You understand nothing. This is like talking to a wall." Moya sighed. "If we're a team, we need clear roles. And how do we split rewards?"
"I... hadn't thought that far." Rick tensed, fearing being used. "If we're serious, escaping the forest comes first, right?"
"Fine, we'll start there." Moya brushed it off, unfolding a map as large as a window.
"Your map is huge!" Rick pulled out his booklet, comparing. "Ours look different."
"Of course—yours is ancient..." Moya preened. "I saved up for this."
"Prioritizing a map over supplies... impressive..." Rick retorted.
"Something's off." Moya pointed to a red zone. "Your Hell's Corridor is way bigger than mine."
Indeed, the booklet showed Hell's Corridor a third larger. "Which is accurate?" Rick asked, overwhelmed by coordinates.
"Where'd you get this relic?" Moya flipped through the booklet. "No way—the Association sold you a 200-year-old map?"
"What? I don't believe it." Rick checked the binding—date and name confirmed its age.
"Honestly, this antique is well-printed. You could sell it for 1,000+ silver." Moya chuckled.
"I'm keeping it." Rick ignored the mockery, growing curious. If 200 years old, its Hell's Corridor positioning might be truest, with size difference due to forest growth.
"Look—Hell's Corridor ends here." Rick exclaimed, convinced the lake was the passage.
"Hmm... Maybe..." Moya eyed the lake. "Is the lake a—"
"That's my thought exactly."
"How do we enter? Diving? Suicide." Moya gaped. "I can't."
"No time. Stay here or come with me. Your choice."
"Give me a second."
"Seconds are up—they're closing in." Rick glanced back.
Black smoke rose from the terraced fields, red flames devouring the Rampage Flowers. A blue flare exploded overhead.
"Shit—Lant's team! They're burning the flowers..." Moya paled. "They must've recruited help."
"Your old buddies?" Rick stepped back. "Perfect for a pincer attack."
"No—let's go." Moya turned resolute. "I won't look back." He leaped into the lake.
"Wait, I haven't decided!" Rick watched helplessly as Moya vanished into the vortex. "Don't tell me he's dead..." Bubbles rose from the pit.
With terraced fields ablaze, Rick took a deep breath and jumped. "Gods help me..." Darkness swallowed him.
...
"Where am I? Dead?" Rick's head spun, body numb. A warm drop landed on his nose. Familiar water echoes rang out.
He wiped the drop, overjoyed to be alive. His foot struck something soft—Moya's scream answered.
"You survived?" Rick gasped.
"My head hurts, and so does my face... Why'd you kick me?" Moya shoved Rick away. "Where are we?"
"No idea. Feels like a tomb."
"Tombs are supposed to be cool, but it's stuffy here..." Moya fumbled for his lantern, casting light around. Rick saw blocky stones, tightly fitted yet torn as if by great force. Overhead, a spring gurgled, water pouring down.
Rick touched the wall and jerked back—the stones were scalding. "We're like being cooked in a pot."
"I feel it too..." Moya joined him. "Could we be in Hell's Corridor?"
"If it's this hot here, we'll melt outside!" Rick sighed, scanning anxiously.
"Still need to find an exit." Moya frowned, retreating from the heat.
" You're the scout—figure it out," Rick urged.
"The walls are sealed like a cauldron! Where do you expect me to scout?" Moya snapped.
"Stop yelling and start looking!"
Just then, the walls rumbled. A hundred-meter crack split the stone like a gaping mouth. Water surged, forming a vortex. The wall shook as the spring overhead erupted, drenching them.
"See? There's our path." Rick pointed to the crack.
"…No! That's the road to hell! I'm not going!"
"Quiet! The vortex has a cycle." Rick studied the walls. "Every time the vortex appears, the crack opens. When the water fills this space, it closes. This must be the exit."
" Impossible! You think it's an automatic door?"
"Then how do you explain this?" Rick pointed to the stretched rock and knee-deep water. "Either risk it or drown here."
After a tense silence, rising water convinced Moya. "Fine, let's go."
The crack was long and narrow, fitting one person at a time. They crawled forward, enduring the scorching rock.
"What's at the end?" Rick asked, fighting fear.
"Who knows? Let's just find the exit..." Moya's tone softened. "I never caught your name."
"I know you're Moya from the carriage. Call me Rick—I don't know my full name."
"Rick?" Moya chuckled. "You share a name with Kester's greatest hunter. He'd be annoyed from beyond the grave."
"Who? I've never heard of him."
"Didn't you take electives at the Association? Couldn't afford the 20 silver?" Moya sneered.
" Well... I'm poor, but I'm a hunter. Making money is just a matter of time."
Moya fell silent, speeding up. "Big deal..."
Rick couldn't help asking: "How high was this Rick's hunter rank?"
"He was an Insect Master." Moya eyed Rick, finding another chance to mock. "He could design his own badge, you know."
"Design his own? So the Association meant nothing to him?" Rick was amazed.
"He helped draft the Association's rules with early hunters. Sadly, he vanished—legend says near Hell's Corridor. Maybe he died here?"
"Even he couldn't survive this place?" Rick despaired.
"Looks like we're in deep trouble." Moya agreed.
Just then, the ground shook violently. The crack began to close.
"Dammit, you jinx!" Rick yelled, crawling faster. Moya followed, terrified.
BOOM! They leaped out just as the stone sealed shut.
"Th-that was close..."
" We made it!"
Pale and panting, they lay on the ground, grateful for their narrow escape.