The cavern still reeked of blood.
Cass stood with the Warbles as the elder raised a stone bowl high. Black ichor dripped down his arms, running from the slain River Gnashers piled near the river. The tribe's chanting filled the space - low, guttural, vibrating through the stone walls.
The elder dipped his hand into the bowl and smeared the dark liquid across his forehead. He turned to Cass.
"Step forward, child of sun."
Cass's throat tightened. His body screamed with exhaustion, his ribs still aching from the fight. But his legs carried him forward, every step echoing on the cavern floor.
The elder dipped his fingers again. He reached up, slow, deliberate, and dragged the ichor across Cass's brow. The liquid was cold, sticky. The smell bit his nose.
"You bleed with us," the elder intoned. "Now you bind with us."
The cavern shook. Or maybe it was only Cass's heart pounding.
A pulse of light burst across his vision.
[System]:Approval Sigil unlocked: Warble Tribe.
[System]:Founding pathway enabled. Establish your first settlement.
The words glowed, sharp and undeniable.
The tribe roared, voices thundering. Spears slammed against the ground. The river hissed as ichor dripped into its depths.
Cass stood trembling, light burning across his vision. The first step was real now. Not theory. Not hope. Real.
Later, the elder led him deeper.
The cavern narrowed, twisting into a tunnel lined with glowing veins of crystal. The light shimmered faintly on the walls, pale blue and silver. The air smelled of damp stone, sharp minerals, and the faint musk of earth that had never seen the sun.
They stopped before a massive stone door carved into the rock. Runes etched across its surface pulsed faintly, alive with power.
"This is old," the elder said. His voice rumbled like shifting stone. "Older than us. Older than the tribes. The Dawn itself placed these marks when the first Lording began."
He pressed his palm against the runes. They glowed brighter. The door ground open, stone on stone, revealing a chamber beyond.
Cass's breath caught.
The chamber was circular, its ceiling lost in shadow. In the center stood a stone pedestal, carved with spirals and lined with cracks. Atop it lay a disk of obsidian, its surface etched with glowing lines.
The elder gestured. "Your Sigil."
Cass's hand hovered over the obsidian disk. The [System] prompt burned in front of his eyes:
[System]:Choose name.
His chest tightened. A name. The first stone of everything.
He thought back to his first life. To the nameless years spent wandering as a Traveler. Always building for others, never for himself. Watching settlements rise with banners, while his own hands went empty.
Not this time.
He looked around the chamber. The runes in the walls pulsed faintly, casting light across the Warbles who stood silent behind him. Their eyes were fixed on him—not with trust, not yet, but with expectation. Waiting. Testing.
He thought of the word they had whispered when he first brought light into the cavern. Propervy. Their prophecy. A word heavy with meaning he didn't fully understand.
Part of him wanted to reject it. He didn't believe in prophecies. He believed in sweat, in blood, in stubborn work. But another part of him—the part that had survived five years of regret—saw the value in taking their faith and shaping it into his weapon.
If he named this place after their prophecy, it would bind them to him more tightly. Every Warble child who whispered that word would whisper his name with it.
His jaw clenched. Fine. Then he would use it.
But not just Propervy.
This wasn't only faith. It was survival. A foothold in the dark. A wall against collapse. A promise that no matter what came, this place would not fall.
A bastion.
He whispered, "Propervy Bastion."
The [System] carved the name into stone.
[System]:Settlement founded: Propervy Bastion (Hamlet).
The pedestal blazed. Light shot through the cracks, racing along the floor, spreading up the walls. The entire chamber glowed, runes pulsing with life.
The elder's eyes widened. The Warbles who had followed gasped, murmuring to each other.
"The prophecy," one whispered. "The child of shadow brings the sun below."
Cass stood trembling, his hand still pressed to the disk. He had done it. His first settlement. His first claim.
Propervy Bastion.
When they left the chamber, the Warbles treated him differently. Not as an outsider. Not as prey. Their eyes still held suspicion, but also respect. Some nodded. Some bowed faintly. Children peeked from behind stone pillars, whispering, giggling, pointing.
The elder placed a hand on his shoulder. His palm was rough, heavy.
"You carry more than yourself now," he said. "You carry us. Do not forget."
Cass nodded. His throat tightened. "I won't."
[System]:Settlement status screen unlocked.
The world shifted. A translucent window spread across his vision, not as sterile numbers but as living words carved in stone.
[Propervy Bastion – Hamlet]
Population: 27 (Warbles, wary but hopeful)
Stability: Food scarce, morale cautious
Structures: Tunnels, river access, glowshroom farms
Threats: Cavern beasts, disease risk, surface unknown
Potential: High (faith and prophecy stirred)
Cass stared at it. His chest ached with pride and fear. It was so small. So fragile.
But it was his.
The next days blurred with work.
Warbles built glowshroom racks, expanding the farms. Others carved new tunnels, sharpening them into defensible choke points. Hunters left in groups, spears in hand, returning with skittering cave-crabs and blind fish from the river.
Cass joined them. His knife was crude, his skill untrained, but he worked alongside them. He carried stone. He dragged carcasses. He ate with them around fungus-lit fires, listening to their stories.
He learned their songs - low, rumbling hymns to the stone. He listened to their fears - whispers of surface tribes, of collapsing tunnels, of monsters stirring deeper below.
And at night, he opened his settlement screen again and again, staring at the words.
[Propervy Bastion – Hamlet]
Population: 29 (births recorded)
Stability: Food improving; morale steady
Threats: Infection rumors from nearby caves, cavern beasts, disease risk, surface unknown
The numbers shifted slowly. But they shifted.
It was real.
On the fourth night, the elder summoned him again.
They stood in the high cavern, the river whispering at their feet. The elder's eyes gleamed faintly in the glowshroom light.
"You built the first stone," he said. "But more stones must follow. A hamlet is fragile. It needs walls. It needs order. It needs faith."
He pressed something into Cass's hand. A shard of obsidian, etched with runes. It pulsed faintly with warmth.
"A blueprint," the elder said. "One of our oldest. A shrine to the Dawn. It has waited for the right hand."
[System]:Blueprint acquired: Dawn Shrine (Rare).
Cass's chest tightened. His first blueprint. His first chance to shape more than survival.
The elder's voice rumbled. "Build. Prove Propervy Bastion can stand."
Cass gripped the shard tight. His vision burned with light. His heart pounded with a truth he could no longer deny.
This wasn't just a start.
This was his second life. His second chance.
And this time, he would not fail.