The shadows cast over the gate by the earthen wall above twitched and bulged as a figure emerged from within, her full form rising up and promptly separating from the darkness, completely unseen during the turmoil of battle.

Her black hair dangled over her shoulder and down her chest, braided tightly and perfectly matching the pitch-black androgynous combat suit she wore, courtesy of those fools at Genesis. The tri-optics of her mask spun and whirred as her focus centred onto the horizon, in the direction that her target had disappeared.

Fortunately for her, Genesis was still yet to implement a network for their devices, meaning their tech was free for the taking. The imbeciles were so concerned by the idea of being infiltrated by the beasts that they had completely neglected to watch for humans. The woman snorted at the thought. She was nothing if not thankful, however.

Their own ignorance had allowed her to get in-depth information on both the state of the world and the potential slew of individuals her master would want her to bring back home. They’d need to borrow their strength to save their young matriarch, after all.

Tapping the sensor on the side of her mask, she dialled in to her honourable leader, and his voice resounded in her ear a second later, “Mio? You called?”

“Patriarch,” She spoke reverently before pausing for a second and sticking up close against the wall as an archer dropped down and sprinted past in search of more arrows, “I believe I’ve found a suitable candidate, as you asked.”

“You have?! Bring them here immediately. We have no idea how long Jane has left to be saved.” His voice came out a second later, his excitement barely kept under wraps by the hoarseness of his elderly vocals. Mio hesitated this time, licking her dry lips.

“They… are also claiming to be the young matriarch’s supposedly deceased brother, Brock Carter.” Her words came out low and slow.

There was a silence on the other end for a tense few seconds, “Is he not a Skin Walker?”

“I genuinely have no idea. I’ve been studying his aura for any irregularities, but it’s hard to tell anything from it,” she sighed softly, recalling the several attempts she had made over the course of the past few days, “He even manages to sense it sometimes and looks my way, though he’s never caught me.”

On the other end of the call, she heard her clan leader mutter his thoughts under his breath, a habit her and her clansmen found quite endearing of the man. Eventually, he responded. She didn’t expect the steeliness of his voice, however, “Bring… bring him here. Forcefully… if you must.”

Mio nodded solemnly, though she knew the man wouldn’t see the action or the emotion behind it, “By your will, Patriarch.”

“Hurry now. Jane’s life hangs in the balance.”

Then, the call ended.

**

The first thing Brock noticed was the smell. It was oddly musky down here, if a tad bit humid despite the dryness of the air on the surface. The water had to go somewhere, he assumed. Next was the darkness or lack thereof. Initially, for maybe the first a hundred meters down or so, it was pitch black – grey, with Brock’s enhanced eyesight.

But now, thin streaks of magma flowed through the perfectly cut walls of the tunnel, the liquid in question oozing through the cracks and dribbling down the slopes. While Brock wasn’t certain if magma would pose an issue to him anymore – he had a strong suspicion it still would – it was never a problem, as the tunnel was easy several meters in diameter.

Considering the tides of beasts that assaulted the Sanctuary, he actually thought that it wasn’t large enough. He did wonder, however, why there was magma so close to the surface. Weird.

Aside from providing a pleasant glow to accompany him dozens of meters below the surface as he followed along the incline of the tunnel, it also tickled his skin with warmth, contrasting the chilled air that still flowed in from the world above. Apparently, the sun was yet to have warmed up the Earth as he had initially predicted.

Contrary to what he had thought the place would be like, it wasn’t swarming with insects nor heavily guarded. It was just… empty. A ghost town. He could detect the barest of traces of aura signatures through the thick walls of earth around him, meaning there certainly were beings within, though he didn’t count many, only a few hundred or so.

Yeah, that’s still a lot…

While he wasn’t afraid of the numbers - as he had faced even more numerous battles before – he briefly considered turning back, taking the knowledge of the place’s location with him. It was excessively hard to tell from the natural obscuration the earth gave him, but the vast majority of the creatures within seemed to exceed level 50. Some he even thought were in the 60s, though he couldn’t say for sure.

It appeared that the queen had saved all the strongest troops for herself.

In the end, he decided against it. All he had to do was not get caught and he’d be fine. How hard could sneaking through a hive of monstrous insect creatures that were craving for your life be? Hopefully not very.

A few minutes later, he came to his first intersection of sorts, where the tunnel split in two, one leading downward and the other up. He assumed the latter was an alternate exit and entrance, and he wondered if other towns were also forced to defend themselves against the hordes.

And so down he went, quickly becoming surprised at the sheer number of side tunnels that began to appear along the way, leading off in various directions. He also found that the auras he had detected appeared to be getting closer as he approached. It took him only a further minute to realise that they, in turn, were approaching him.

Breathing in sharply as he glanced around for a hiding spot, Brock dived into a side tunnel and scrambled a bit further around the bend. Cautiously he peeked around, viewing an entourage of heavily armoured insects as they marched past, their lower arms covered by thick shields of dark green chitin and upper ones made up of especially long blades.

Clearly, they were the guards of this place. He counted seven as they crept past him and toward the direction he had entered from, all in their high fifties. Although Brock wasn’t exactly certain that he’d lose against them if he fought them all at once, he definitely wasn’t confident he’d win either. It was best he avoided patrols like that continuing forward.

As he detected the group recede into the distance, he silently slipped out back into the main tunnel and continued to creep further through it. He only encountered and avoided one other patrol before the passage began to further widen once more, quickly exceeding over a dozen meters across. Even the streaks of magma increased in frequency and volume.

Several times he was forced to dodge dripping globs of the molten stuff as they dribbled from the fractures in the roof, and the one time he was hit resulted in the space quickly adopting the stench of burnt leather as Brock stopped, dropped, and rolled to get the shit off before it burned through to his skin.

Finally, a familiar aura came into his detection range, and he recognised the presence of the Tyrant he was thought to be dealing with as it wafted through the tunnels. Now that he could feel its aura proper, he was certain he had made the right call. It seemed he had pulled a red flag back in that hospital bed after his fight with Little Shit.

There were more Tyrants. He just hoped there weren’t many more.

A continuous wet squelch populated the background noise as Brock crept closer and closer to its position, and he barely refrained from gagging as the smell hit him next. It was humid in his nostrils and faintly smelled of what he assumed charred shit would taste like. The streaks of magma illuminated a gap and cliff from the tunnel ahead of him, and Brock approached it.

Carefully, he peeked past it, taking in the gargantuan sight before him. Before him was a cavern at a size that left him utterly baffled. He hadn’t really thought about how far he was underground but judging from the fact that the ceiling of the place easily crested a hundred meters, he probably should have. He was a long way from the blessing of the sun.

There were various cliffs all around the place, connecting to other tunnels and probably being used as guard posts by the various guards he could sense roaming around, most likely searching for him. He didn’t know how they were aware of his breach, but he assumed the entrance had some alert on it, since that was the first place those other guards had headed.

In the centre of it all, lit by shades of oranges and yellows from meter wide streaks of magma as they crisscrossed along every surface, was the humongous form of the queen, her dark green chitin thick and sturdy as her lower abdomen and its soft membrane pulsed and popped out egg after egg, slick with slime.

They tumbled down and joined a rapidly growing pile, each as large as a car, while the ones at the very bottom began to shake and crack as newborn insects crawled out from within, scattering soft shells around in the dusty clearing beneath their mother.

Strings of solidified slime held the queen up among the height of the cavern, and her four pairs of scythed arms hung limply around her, all her attention focused upon the rapid production of her children. Among the crowd, Brock could make out the figures of the familiar Spawn and Hunters, and even a slightly altered version of the swift insect he had chased here.

Unlike its predecessor, its chitin seemed to be slightly thicker, probably in exchange for maximum speed.

Oddly enough, hundreds of thin, fleshy tubes hung out the back of the creature, their ends attached to the various streams of magma around it. A wispy sunset energy flowed through their lengths and back into the beast the appendages belonged to. That was when Brock realised why the magma was so out of place in the hive.

The Tyrant was… a symbiote, feeding off the remnant energies of the location. Faintly, Brock detected an overwhelming presence lying dormant far beneath him. Or the… creature that lives here.

The Tyrant itself only appeared to be around level 65, a far cry from what its hordes suggested of its power, and he knew that it was probably just the effect of borrowed power letting her complete feats above her level.

Brock felt that he could take the creature head-on, although the interference from her ‘babies’ would certainly pose a problem during the ensuing fight. He’d also have to worry about the earth coming down on their heads. He had a chance here and now, but he knew the Tyrant wouldn’t move as long as its mysterious benefactor remained.

Considering the scenario, it was best he retreat for now.

He sensed a retinue of guards as he prepared to retrace his steps, probably one of the two he had dodged before, and clicking his tongue, he stepped out onto the cliff and grappled onto the rocky wall beside it. Hiding was relatively easy considering there were so many footholds, although he did fear the wall coming loose and letting him plummet down below.

He might survive the fall, but it didn’t mean said fall wasn’t gonna be scary as fuck.

Brock hugged the wall tightly as they passed by, silently thankful that the multisided eyes of the Tyrant appeared to be closed and that its babies were clueless as hell. Maybe when he returned to Sanctuary he could enlist the help of Erin to make the whole place cave in on the creatures. She seemed like she’d enjoy something like that.

He did feel that it wouldn’t be as effective as he hoped, but it would certainly reduce the numb-

Dun dun do dun dun dooooo

Brock blinked in shock, and slowly looked down at his spatial necklace as the familiar sound of a ringing phone echoed out from within it. What… the fuck…

[Following the latest firmware update, communication items now remain functional within the bounds of spatial pocket dimensions.]

Dun dun do dun dun dooooo

Brock forgot to breathe for a second as he grabbed his phone from his spatial ring and smacked it against the stone again and again and again until it shut the fuck up. Almost reluctantly, he looked down at the hundreds of eyes staring right at him. The oppressive aura of the Tyrant fell upon his shoulders, and its mandibles chittered ominously as its baby production abruptly ceased.

Opposite the wall, the aura signatures of the guards stopped dead in their tracks.

“Oh, fuck me.”