The fire from their makeshift camp sputtered against the cave's damp air. The sound of water dripping from stalactites echoed like a slow heartbeat, while faint blue light from mineral veins shimmered along the cavern walls. The group, still soaked from the ocean, gathered near a boulder as they dried their gear. Steam rose from their clothes, and the smell of wet leather filled the space.
Recon was the first to break the silence."Texan," he said, voice sharp but steady, "before we do anything—we have to talk."
Texan glanced up from where he sat cross-legged beside Gumbo, idly tossing pebbles into a puddle. "Oh, this again? Sure, go ahead."
He smirked faintly. "Let me guess—it's about Gumbo, right? I kinda, uh, gave him that grey potion. Turns out it was some hybrid crap—made him half shark."Gumbo, hearing his name, chirped, his new dorsal ridge twitching slightly. "He's got sonar now. Found us a nice carcass to hide in back there, so… you're welcome."
Recon didn't smile. His eyes burned under the faint light."No," he said quietly. "I want the last flower. The ice one."
The cave seemed to still. Even the water dripping from the ceiling slowed, or maybe their ears simply stopped hearing it.
Texan blinked. "That's a big ask, bud. We could give it to Gumbo—or Himmel. You know he'd probably make the best use of it."He rose slowly to his feet, unease creeping into his tone. "You sure you wanna start this now?"
"I need it," Recon said. The words echoed down the tunnels, his voice carried by anger he'd bottled too long. "Himmel's got the level-three sword, the amplified flower, the key, the scissors. You got Gumbo, the club, the scroll that other orc gave you.Me?" He gestured to himself, eyes flashing. "I've got nothing. Nothing but a bow and bad luck! JACK AND FUCKING SHIT!"
His voice slammed into the stone, the sound shaking loose a few pebbles from above. The echoes rolled for seconds before fading.
Texan's expression hardened. "You think Himmel got all that because he's lucky?" he said, his voice suddenly cold. "He fights first into every dungeon. He cooks. He fixes our gear. He's the reason you're not rotting in some beast cage. Everything he's got—he earned."
He stepped forward, every word like a knife. "And forgive me for saying this, but maybe you'd have more if you stopped whining about what everyone else has. You're capable, Recon. You've got sharper eyes than me, quicker hands than most. You even healed me once with that weird horn trick of yours. But you stand there acting like you've been robbed by fate. You haven't. You've just been lazy."
Recon's mouth opened, but no words came. His hands trembled.
Texan's tone softened only a little, but the edge remained. "We could give the flower to Gumbo. Hell, he's been more useful than you lately—and at least he doesn't complain the whole walk."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Gumbo's fins twitched. Even Himmel hadn't spoken; his gaze was distant, unreadable.
Then he finally said, "Texan… let him have it."
Both turned toward him.
Himmel stood by the tunnel's edge, shadows crossing his face. "Let him have the flower. He's right about one thing—we've all gotten something out of this journey, one way or another. Maybe it's time he did too."
Texan's jaw tightened. "You serious?"
Himmel nodded. "Call it repaying a debt."
Texan sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fine. But when that flower freezes his lungs, I'm not carrying the body."
Recon didn't answer. He simply stepped toward the icy blossom resting inside its glass jar, the last remnant of the dungeon's puzzle. He touched it. The glass cracked, light spilling through. Frost crawled along his hand, tracing veins of blue across his skin before sinking into him entirely.
He exhaled, steam curling from his mouth. "It's… cold. But it feels right."
The cavern pulsed faintly, the lights responding to his new energy. Fire and ice—coiling opposites now bound within the same heartbeat.
Texan shook his head. "Alright, snowflake, happy now?"
Recon smirked faintly. "For the first time in a while."
Texan stretched his arms, trying to shake off the tension. "Ugh, whatever. I'm taking my shot now. Might as well gamble while I'm feeling lucky."
He reached into his pack and pulled out a small vial filled with green liquid—the potion he'd found beside the others in the dungeon. Its contents shimmered faintly, reflecting the cave's blue glow.
"Wait," Himmel said. "You don't even know what that does."
Texan grinned. "Neither did you when you poured that water on the plant. Guess it's my turn." He looked to Recon. "Give me your horn—just in case."
Without hesitation, Recon sliced off a small piece of his horn and handed it over, the bone already glowing with residual healing energy.
Texan popped the cork and sniffed the potion. "Smells like herbs and regret." He shrugged, then chugged it.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then his body convulsed.
His knees buckled, the vial shattering from his grip. His skin flushed green, then pale. A bump formed on his forehead. He let out a strangled laugh before collapsing fully, eyes rolling back. Blood trickled from his nose, and a foul stench filled the air as his body released every fluid it could.
"Texan!" Himmel shouted, diving to his side. He grabbed the broken horn and crushed it, shoving the fragments into Texan's mouth. The healing energy flared, a bright green light flooding his chest.
Texan gasped, back arching. The color faded from his skin, his eyes snapping open.
He blinked several times. "The fuck was that…" He looked down at his ruined clothes. "Ah, hell. I actually pissed myself."
Recon snorted despite himself. "Guess it worked?"
"Worked at making me hate potions," Texan muttered, pulling himself up. "Alright—let's keep moving before this cave kills me in embarrassment."
Himmel shook his head. "You really are cursed."
"Yeah," Texan grinned faintly, "but I'm funny about it."
They followed a narrow tunnel deeper into the cave system. The air grew warmer, the walls smoother—as if shaped by hand rather than nature. Carved lines traced the rock in strange geometric patterns.
"Someone built this," Himmel murmured, running his hand over the wall. "Not natural."
Recon's voice echoed softly. "But who would live this far underground?"
The corridor widened into a chamber. The floor bore signs of recent passage—scuffed footprints, a few broken crates, even a half-burned torch lying in the dirt.
"Someone's definitely here," Texan said, crouching. "And not long ago."
A smaller tunnel caught their eye—a roughly-cut opening that led deeper into darkness. Himmel approached it cautiously, crouched low, sword drawn. The air drifting from it was different: warmer, smelling faintly of oil and smoke.
"Looks carved by tools," he said. "Not erosion. Come on."
They squeezed through. The tunnel curved sharply, the ceiling lowering until they had to crouch. Then, without warning, it opened into a massive chamber.
Lanterns flickered dimly along the walls, fueled by something that burned without smoke. The room stretched far, lined with massive chests made of dark iron and reinforced wood. Each was labeled with carved metal plaques: FOOD, ARMOR, and one that immediately caught their attention — SOULS.
Texan whistled low. "Oh, this looks promising."
Recon's eyes darted toward the last chest. "Souls…? What kind of psychos keep a box labeled that?"
"Only one way to find out," Texan said, already stepping forward.
Himmel raised a hand sharply. "Wait."
Texan turned, impatient. "What now? You really gonna say no to a chest of souls?"
"Yes." Himmel's voice was flat but resolute. "Because I think people live here. Look at this place—it's maintained. The torches are new. The floors are clean."
Recon frowned, glancing around. "He's right. The dust stops halfway through the room. Someone comes here often."
Texan sighed but couldn't resist peeking. He cracked the lid of the "Souls" chest just enough to glimpse inside.
A faint glow spilled out — dozens of glass orbs, each swirling with mist and light. Some burned bright like tiny suns, others pulsed softly, like a heartbeat in slumber.
Recon's breath caught. "I can feel them…"
Each orb radiated energy, warm and alive. It wasn't just light—it was emotion. Fear. Joy. Sorrow. Life itself.
Texan reached toward one, his hand trembling. "They're alive," he whispered. "Each one's a soul. You can hear them if you listen close."
"Put it back," Himmel said quietly.
Texan turned. "You don't understand. These could be—"
"Put. It. Back." Himmel's tone had the finality of command.
Reluctantly, Texan let the lid fall shut. The light died out, leaving the room dim again.
"Whoever collects these," Himmel said, "they're not far. And if we steal from them, we'll never get out alive."
For a long moment, none of them spoke. The silence pressed down like a weight.
Then, faintly — voices.
A soft murmur drifted through the next tunnel. Not echoes this time—voices. Real, tangible, alive.
They followed the sound carefully, weapons drawn, moving from shadow to shadow. The tunnel sloped downward, light blooming ahead.
And then, suddenly, the passage opened into a vast hollow world beneath the earth.
An entire village stretched before them.
Structures carved from the cave itself spiraled upward like terraces, linked by rope bridges and glowing lanterns. Rivers of molten crystal flowed through channels, illuminating the streets in orange and gold. The smell of cooked meat and burning resin filled the air.
Orcs. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
Children ran between stone huts. Warriors sharpened blades outside forges that roared with green flame. Traders shouted from stalls stacked with carved bone and strange fungi.
Texan's mouth fell open. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Himmel sheathed his sword slowly. "We found them."
Recon's eyes darted around the settlement, disbelief mixing with awe. "An entire city under the mountain…"
They stood at the cliff's edge, unnoticed for now. The scale of it was staggering — bridges crossing chasms, massive beasts of burden hauling carts, banners of red and black fluttering in the warm air.
"Guess your instincts were right," Texan said quietly.
Himmel nodded. "People live here. And they've been living here a long time."
Recon leaned forward. "You think they'll let us in peacefully?"
Texan chuckled dryly. "When's the last time anyone let us in peacefully?"
The faint laughter of orc children drifted upward, strangely peaceful in the glow. The sound of hammering echoed like a heartbeat through the hollow.
Himmel took a slow breath, eyes scanning the bustling depths. "Let's not make enemies yet. We'll leave our weapons in their sheaths, show ourselves as non threatening."
He stepped forward, the light catching on his blade for a moment before vanishing into the dark.
"Come on," he said quietly. "Welcome to the underworld, maybe."