The shrine still glowed faintly the next morning. Its veins of resin pulsed with slow blue light, shadows dancing across the cavern walls. Warbles filed past it in quiet reverence, touching the stone with their foreheads, whispering prayers in their gravel-deep tongue.
Cass sat nearby, chewing the last of his bread. His body still ached from work, his palms raw and bandaged. The taste was sour, stale. But he forced it down.
He opened the status screen again. He had read it a dozen times since the shrine's completion, but the words still pulled at him like gravity.
[Propervy Bastion – Hamlet]
Population: 32 (Warbles, faithful)
Stability: Food steady; morale high
Structures: Glowshroom farms, river access, Dawn Shrine
Threats: Infection whispers in the south tunnels; cavern beasts dormant
Potential: Rising (faith stirs, prophecy noted)
Every word mattered. Every line felt alive, more like a journal written by the world itself than cold numbers.
"Infection whispers…" Cass murmured. His brow furrowed. That hadn't been there yesterday.
The Warbles said nothing. They moved through their routines - farming, hunting, stonecutting. But the words on the screen made his stomach twist. The system didn't write things without reason.
By midday, the first signs appeared.
A group of hunters returned from the southern tunnels, carrying a carcass draped across a spear. It looked like a cave-deer, but its hide was mottled with black streaks, its eyes clouded white. The smell clung to it - sour, wrong, like meat left too long in the sun.
The Warbles muttered, uneasy. One spat into the dirt.
The elder approached, leaning on his staff. His eyes narrowed at the carcass. He touched its hide, then quickly withdrew his hand.
"Rot spreads," he said. His voice carried weight, sharp as stone. "The south tunnels must be closed."
Cass's chest tightened. He knew this was more than superstition. The infection had begun.
That night, he sat with Karrek near the shrine. The Stonecrafter sharpened a chisel, sparks flicking against the ground.
"Has this happened before?" Cass asked quietly.
Karrek's jaw tightened. He nodded once. "Long ago. The rot comes from deep. It touches beasts first. Then crops. Then us."
Cass's stomach churned. "And how do you stop it?"
Karrek hesitated. His eyes glimmered in the shrine's glow. "You don't. You survive. Or you don't."
The words landed heavy.
Cass clenched his fists. He thought of his mother. Her fragile breathing. The ticking clock over her life. He couldn't afford to accept survival as chance. Not here. Not in this world.
There had to be a way.
The next day, a Wanderer appeared.
Cass was hauling stone with a group of Warbles when the figure stepped into the cavern. Tall, cloaked, a hood shadowing his face. His boots left no sound on the stone. The Warbles froze, muttering.
The stranger lifted a lantern. Its flame glowed green, unnatural. His voice carried, low but clear.
"Who built the shrine?"
Cass's grip on the stone tightened. He stepped forward slowly. "I did."
The stranger's hood tilted, studying him. "Then take this."
He reached into his cloak and drew out a vial filled with thick, black liquid. It swirled like smoke trapped in glass.
[Item: Plague Resin – Rare]
Can be used to craft wards against infection. Highly volatile. Dangerous to handle.
Cass stared at it. His pulse quickened.
"What do you want for it?" he asked.
The Wanderer smiled faintly. "A promise."
Cass's mouth went dry. "What promise?"
"That when the rot spreads, you will not hoard your light."
The words cut deep.
Cass thought of the shrine. Of the faith it gave the Warbles. Of how its light pushed against the dark. He thought of his goal. Ten million dollars. His mother's life. Survival meant secrets, advantage, leverage.
But survival also meant allies. And if the infection grew, he wouldn't be able to fight it alone.
He swallowed hard. "I promise."
The Wanderer's eyes glimmered faintly beneath the hood. He placed the vial in Cass's hand.
"Then your Bastion may endure."
And just as suddenly as he came, he was gone.
The Warbles whispered. Some crossed their arms in suspicion. Others whispered of omens.
Cass turned the vial over in his hand. The black liquid swirled. His chest ached with the weight of it.
[System]:Quest unlocked: Craft Plague Ward.
Objective: Use Plague Resin and blueprint knowledge to protect Propervy Bastion.
Cass exhaled slowly. The path was set.
That night, he couldn't sleep. He sat near the shrine, the vial glowing faintly in his hand.
He thought of how fragile this place was. Thirty-two souls. A handful of tunnels. A shrine glowing faintly against the dark. One infection could wipe it all away.
He thought of his mother. Her life depending on him winning this game. On him not just surviving, but thriving.
He clenched the vial tight. "I'll protect this place. Whatever it takes."
The shrine pulsed faintly, as if answering.
And in the quiet, he felt it: the story was only beginning.