The forager led him across the plain.
The grass whispered around their legs, dew clinging to boots and skin. The sun was climbing now, burning away the night. Cass staggered with each step, his body stiff and bruised, knife still sticky in his grip. He hadn't washed. He hadn't eaten. Every breath scraped his throat raw.
But he walked.
The forager moved light, noiseless. His small frame slipped through the grass like it parted for him alone. His back was bent slightly forward, his hands rough and clawlike.
Cass studied him in silence. The Warble's features were stranger up close. His skin was pale, faintly gray, dusted with soil. His nose was broad and flattened, his eyes black pools that gleamed with hidden light. His ears twitched at the faintest sound. He looked fragile, but his movements told otherwise - sharp, efficient, honed by generations beneath the earth.
After an hour, they reached the edge of the plain. A jagged hill jutted from the land, its surface torn with cracks and dark mouths of stone. The forager stopped before one such opening, no taller than Cass's shoulder.
"This way," he said.
Cass crouched and followed.
The air changed instantly.
Cool, damp, heavy with the smell of stone and soil. The light faded. His vision narrowed to shadows. The forager moved ahead, his back hunching further, hands brushing the walls like he was greeting an old friend.
Cass's heart thudded. The space pressed in, tighter with each step. His breath rasped against the walls. He forced himself forward, crawling in places where the ceiling dropped low.
Then the tunnel widened.
He stumbled into a cavern, his breath catching.
The space stretched vast, the ceiling arching high above. Glowshrooms clung to the rock, scattering soft blue light across stone walls slick with damp. Stalactites hung like teeth. A river ran dark at the far end, its surface broken with faint ripples.
And there - figures.
Warbles.
Dozens of them. Small, broad-shouldered, with their pale skin and dark eyes. They clustered on ledges, crouched near the river, leaned against stone pillars. Their clothes were stitched from hides and woven moss. Tools and weapons gleamed faintly in their hands - chisels, picks, curved blades.
The air vibrated with murmurs. They all stared at Cass.
The forager raised his hand. "He survived the plain."
The murmurs grew louder. Some scoffed. Others muttered in their guttural tongue. One spat into the dirt.
From the back, a voice cut through. Deep. Steady.
"Bring him forward."
The crowd parted.
Cass's chest tightened. A Warble elder approached, his body bent but his presence heavy. His hair was silver, his beard braided thick. His cloak shimmered faintly with embedded crystal dust. His eyes were sharper than any blade.
The elder stopped before Cass. He studied him with long, unblinking silence.
"You smell of sun," he said at last. His voice was gravel on stone. "The light that blinds. The fire that burns. Why have you come here?"
Cass's throat tightened. The truth pressed hard in his chest.
"I want a tribe's approval," he said. "I want to build."
Laughter broke out. Harsh, mocking. A Warble woman shouted, "He wants to be a Lord!" Another snapped, "The sunfolk think they can own what they don't understand."
The elder raised a hand. Silence fell.
"You seek what is not given," he said. "It is earned. And only those who carry shadow and stone in their bones are worthy."
A tremor shook the cavern floor. It wasn't Cass's imagination. The air shivered. Dust fell from the ceiling. The Warbles murmured.
The elder's eyes never left Cass. "Then prove yourself."
[System]:Quest: Trial of the Warbles.
Objective: Shelter the tribe through the night from what lurks below.
Failure: Expulsion. Path denied.
Cass's heart dropped. Another night. Another test.
The elder turned, cloak sweeping the stone. "Tonight, child of sun, you will learn if the dark accepts you."
The Warbles gave him space but no comfort. They muttered in corners, some sharpening blades, others repairing nets or patching clothes. They threw glances at him - hostile, mocking, curious.
Cass sat near the river, bread in his hand. He chewed slowly, forcing each bite down despite the dryness in his throat.
He thought of his mother. How fragile her breathing had been in the hospital. How her hand had felt against his, paper-thin. She was alive now, waiting in a bed, her time ticking away.
Ten million dollars. That was the goal. The only goal.
And here he was, sitting in a cavern, eating stale bread while mole-folk questioned his right to exist.
He closed his eyes and whispered, "I won't waste this chance."
Night came differently underground.
There was no sunset, no fading light. The glowshrooms dimmed suddenly, their bioluminescence ebbing like the cave itself was holding its breath. The Warbles grew still. Their voices hushed.
A horn echoed. Low. Trembling.
The elder's voice followed. "They come."
The river rippled. Shadows moved beneath the surface.
Cass stood, knife ready. His breath came shallow.
Then the water broke.
Creatures hauled themselves onto the shore. Their bodies were long and slick, scales glistening with slime. Their faces were eyeless, mouths lined with rows of teeth. They hissed, jaws snapping.
[Spawn: River Gnashers – Level 3]
The Warbles surged to meet them. Spears flashed. Blades cut. The cavern roared with battle cries.
Cass lunged into the fray.
The first Gnasher lunged at him, jaws gaping. He dodged sideways, knife stabbing deep into its neck. Black ichor sprayed, burning his skin where it touched. He gritted his teeth, shoved the body down.
Another came. He slashed. The blade skidded on scale. The creature whipped its tail, knocking him back into the dirt. Pain exploded in his ribs.
He coughed, vision spinning. The Gnasher lunged again.
A Warble leapt between them, spear punching through the creature's mouth. The Gnasher convulsed, then stilled.
The Warble glanced at him, sneering. "Try not to die, sunfolk."
Cass pushed to his feet, knife raised again. His arms screamed with pain. His ribs burned.
But he fought.
For every Gnasher he struck, he thought of her. For every wound he endured, he thought of the hospital bed. For every moment he wanted to collapse, he thought of the ten million that could buy her life.
The battle raged. The cavern floor slicked with black ichor. Warble cries echoed against stone. Cass's body ached, burned, screamed.
And then silence.
The last Gnasher fell, twitching, blood pooling at its side.
The Warbles stood panting, their bodies bloodied, their eyes fierce.
The elder stepped forward, cloak heavy with ichor. His gaze locked on Cass.
"You bled with us," he said. "You did not run. You struck as one of our own."
The cavern vibrated with silence. Then the elder raised his hand.
"Then the tribe accepts you."
[System]:Quest complete.
[System]:Reward: Warble Approval Sigil.
The mark flared across Cass's screen. His chest shook with relief. His knees almost buckled.
The elder's voice thundered, echoing against the stone.
"From this night, the child of sun carries shadow too. From this night, he is not outsider, but kin."
The Warbles raised their weapons, their cries shaking the cavern.
Cass stood among them, trembling, bloodied, exhausted.
And for the first time, he felt it - acceptance.
Not just survival. Belonging.