The cavern gave them one night to breathe.
Blue embers smoldered in Brandon's small fire, their glow bouncing weakly across Frostwing's bent feathers. The phoenix-beast lay folded against the wall, one wing still bound in frost. Brandon slept on the stone floor beside her, exhaustion carved into his face, his spear resting across his chest like a barrier even in dreams.
The koi floated in a shallow basin where water had gathered in the stone. His scales still throbbed where lightning had seared him, but the ache was manageable. The words the System had spoken the night before—burden, endling, load that only grows—echoed faintly in the dark. He shoved them down, into the box where unbearable truths stay quiet.
Not tonight. Task first.
He stretched Sense lightly. A warmth flickered far away, fragile as a spark under snow. May's unborn child. He could not un-feel it now, but he kept it buried. Hope could steady a man, but it could also split him open. Brandon needed clarity, not distraction.
So the koi stayed silent.
Brandon stirred in his sleep, a wince ghosting across his face, the kind of ache that carried a name. He felt the same pull, though he said nothing when dawn came. He rose, strapped on his pack, tightened the spear at his back, and only said, "We keep climbing."
The koi respected him for that. Both of them had chosen silence.
—
By midday, they reached it.
A town clung to the mountainside, crooked streets and shuttered windows staring at them like frightened eyes. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, but the air felt hollow. Doors trembled at their passing, curtains twitched, but no one came out. Ore carts squeaked alone in the wind.
The koi spread Sense. Faint heartbeats fluttered behind walls—weak, irregular, steeped in fear.
The System confirmed in its cold text:
[Settlement Type: Extractive Outpost]
[Output: emeralds, rare stones]
[Behavior: seclusion / fear-driven]
They found a supply shop with its door ajar. Inside, shelves sagged with rope, pickaxes dulled with years, jars of oil, and rations hard as stone. An older man stood behind the counter, his face gray, his hands blackened from dust.
Brandon laid down rope, rations, frost-salve. "Where is everyone?" he asked.
The man flinched. "Quiet keeps you uneaten."
The koi stiffened. Brandon's voice hardened. "Explain."
The man's gaze dropped. His words dragged like stone.
"The dragon. The Emerald Dragon. It lives above, and it demands emeralds. Always more. We mined enough, once. But the veins near the surface are gone. Now the stone yields less. Too little. And when the quota fails…" His knuckles whitened. "…it eats people instead."
Frostwing hissed, frost curling from her beak. Brandon's jaw clenched around the spear.
The koi pressed his fins to the basin until they hurt. He remembered locked doors, laughter behind them, water poured until he couldn't breathe. The Emerald Dragon was nothing but a predator that fed on weakness. A burden it forced on others until they broke.
The shopkeeper's voice cracked.
"No one leaves. Down the mountain—the mist turns you in circles. Bees prowl, worse beyond. Up the mountain—the dragon waits. So we stay. Dig deeper. Pray the carts weigh enough."
He swallowed. "It's been this way for centuries. My father mined. His father. Their fathers. All swallowed by stone. Some tunnels collapse. Some beasts take them. Others just… disappear. We bury names without bodies."
The System intruded, merciless as always:
[Emerald tribute cycle ≥ 300 years]
[Surface veins depleted]
[Mining depth: unstable strata]
[Casualty breakdown: collapse 41% / predation 37% / unexplained 22%]
[Route forward: Emerald Mine → Peak shelf]
[Burden analysis: generational load increasing, no relief projected]
The koi hissed in silence. Not just a mine. A burden carved into generations, a load that kept compounding. And the dragon still collecting.
Brandon paid without a word. Then, as if remembering how the koi had dragged himself levitating all the way from cavern to town—burning through what little strength he had left—Brandon set one final item on the counter. A wide clay basin, sturdy and deep. Another weight added to his own arms, but one he lifted without complaint.
The shopkeeper barely looked at it before wrapping it with the rest.
When Brandon lowered the koi into the new basin, cool water closed around him, and the relief was sharp enough to make him shudder. The old basin, cracked and warped from battles past, had been discarded. This one was whole, weighty, built to endure. Relief washed through him, but so did guilt—because Brandon had carried the load again.
The System flickered:
[Energy report: Levitate strain critical]
[Burden increment noted — partial load transferred]
The koi sank against the curve, hollow but grateful. The burden shifted, but it never disappeared. Brandon simply chose to carry it.
—
Outside, the town was as empty as before. Only now they knew why.
Brandon's eyes lifted to the black mouth of the mine, gaping like a wound. Frostwing shifted uneasily. The koi trembled in his basin, water quivering.
The System whispered like frost:
[Legendary Task Path Update: Emerald Mine → Peak shelf]
[Warning: survival probability < 11%]
[Advisory: Tier One aura rising]
[Note: Host burden increment confirmed — current load unsustainable]
Eleven percent. The koi's fins hardened. Then I'll make eleven enough. If the dragon feasts on the weak, then I'll be the stone it chokes on.
Brandon set his jaw. "We climb in, we climb through, we climb out. Together."
Frostwing exhaled frost over his shoulder, her only answer.
The three turned toward the mine. Its arch sagged, timbers rotted, braces groaning. Mist coiled at the entrance, carrying faint groans from deep within.
The mountain inhaled.
And they stepped forward.
—
Far away, in the circle of dragon-breath where distance had no meaning, Joren of the Thunder Plains leaned back in his unseen chair. Thundermaw rumbled faintly, thunder rolling like a gambler's chuckle.
Through the Link, he had watched the trio enter the mine. He had seen the miner's fear, the koi's anger, the spear in human hands. He had watched too long to call it noise.
"Interesting," Joren murmured. The coin spun over his knuckles, catching phantom light. This time the word carried weight. Not a shrug. A wager.
Thundermaw's scarred chest growled once, as if echoing his thought.
Joren's grin sharpened. "The load keeps climbing. Let's see how long they carry it."
The storm around him stirred, no longer idle.