Gwyneth struggled to keep up with Bunty. She wasn’t used to prolonged treks over uneven terrain, and the two attack spells had drained her considerably too. Bunty didn’t let her slowdown, though. He kept them on track using the FTF’s compass, and they continued their journey through the crags.

Fortunately, they didn’t get much trouble from the local fauna. They stayed clear of any passages with spiderwebs, and the reptiles gave them a large berth. Most of them preferred sticking to the sunlight above the crags and avoided the cooler shadows. Bunty expected his bleeding shoulder to attract predators, but much to his relief, they got to continue in peace. Perhaps the creatures recognised them as a superior threat or had already feasted for the day and were busy digesting their meals. Either way, Bunty had no reason to complain.

The day continued to get hotter, and before long, the pair had finished the peppermint tea. Only the water in the flask remained. Much to Bunty’s delight, the Core kept the fluid cold, and little sips helped the pair cooldown.

Occasionally, Bunty pressed his ear to the stone walls. He only picked out ambient sounds and no sign of pursuers. It didn’t reassure him, though. They had somehow concealed their presence from him earlier too. Fortunately, the group wasn’t particularly competent. Edgar had either not put up a hefty bounty, drawing the worst hunters, or they were a new party not used to working together. Their poor planning and cockiness had cost them. Bunty hoped the defeat had humbled them enough to give up their pursuit.

“I need to slow down, Bunty,” Gwyneth said, panting. They had not long scaled a hundred-foot rise, and she was soaked in sweat. “Let’s find a spot to rest.”

“Not yet,” Bunty replied. “Those arseholes could still find us.”

“We’ve been through enough twists and turns for them to lose us. Besides, they found us because all the paths lead to the big pool—”

“I think there’s more to it.” Bunty interrupted, pushing the pouch of the innkeeper’s snacks into her hand. “The pickaxe guy. If he can mould stone, I bet he can read it too. We didn’t see or hear the group until they let us.” After Gwyneth took a handful of the juice pomegranate and sultana treats, Bunty helped himself to some too. “They might have been incompetent as a unit, but individually, the group had decent abilities. It’s worth noting the augmenter woman too. I bet she has a heightened sense of smell too. She could easily follow us through the tunnels.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Gwyneth asked in a crabby tone. “We can’t keep moving indefinitely, Bunty. If they do catch up to us, I’d rather face them after a rest. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve only upgraded my spirit once. You might have the energy to push on, but I don’t. Facing them in my current state won’t just get me killed, but you too.”

“Fine.” Bunty sighed, pulling away from the wall. “Let’s find a defendable position, though.”

The pair continued through the crags, using the tentacles to hasten their trek. Bunty kept an eye on the fountain pen’s ink gauge. He still had the coat summoned to defend against surprise attacks but dispelled the gauntlet. The inkwell needed time to regenerate. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to reabsorb the summoned nets. As a result, he had lost the ink for good. The reserves were a little more than a quarter now. If they got sucked into another fight, he’d have to make do with one gauntlet and perhaps a single short tentacle. As a result, he wanted to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible. Hopefully, the next upgrade would give him a method of regenerating the ink at a higher rate.

“Do you think they’ll continue pursuing us with two members of the party down?” Gwyneth asked as they passed through a patch of uncovered stone.

“I don’t know,” Bunty answered after taking a moment to adjust his trousers. The summoned coat had adjusted to the heat and kept Bunty’s torso comfortable, but his lower half was soaked in sweat. His dislike for the seventh floor grew with every passing moment, and he couldn’t wait to get off it. “I’m pretty sure you killed one of them, and the Frost Blade may have crippled another. If they care about their comrades, they might return to the hub. On the other hand, we might have pissed them off enough to continue chasing us.”

“Perhaps they’ll leave one person behind to take care of the bramble-woman,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, Bunty. I need to rest.”

The pair carried onwards, keeping an eye out for a secure resting spot. Bunty was sure that luck played a massive role in their escape and didn’t want to risk it a second time. Gwyneth’s red face and heavy breathing suggested she didn’t have it in her to fight, though, so he looked for a spot with multiple escape routes.

As they continued through the crags, Bunty mentally thanked Baba. It wasn’t just the second Core that was helping him. Baba’s merciless training played a major role in Bunty’s stamina and willpower. Edgar and Victoria would’ve given up already. Even though Lawrence hadn’t trained under Baba for long—he spent his extra time on side jobs to support his siblings, the young man displayed tremendous resolve. He’d most likely carry on until his heart gave out.

Bunty’s chest ached as his thoughts paused on Alexander. He was one of Baba’s best students. The lordling’s skills with sabres, thrusting swords, and spears far surpassed Bunty’s. What he lacked in climbing skills he’d make up for in breathing technique and sheer determination. Bunty missed him dearly. While growing up, Neer had been a near-mythical figure to Bunty. He was the big brother, after all. Alexander felt more like an equal and sibling.

The pair were about to descend back into the natural passageways travelling between the cracks when Gwyneth spotted a flat expanse of rock shaded by two titanic outcroppings. It was open on both sides and gave a view of the North, where they were heading, and the oasis they have left behind to the South. Gwyneth’s body almost gave up once it knew the rest stop was within reach, and Bunty had to support her for the last leg. She collapsed onto her bottom and stripped off her cloak. After a moment’s hesitation, she untucked her blouse and unbuttoned it.

Bunty didn’t bother looking away from Gwyneth’s almost bare torso. When she met his eye, a tired smirk spread across her lips. “Flattering,” she remarked. “It feels good to know you can’t take your eyes off me even when I’m a hot, sweaty mess.” Her eyes narrowed as the words registered. Then Gwyneth burst out laughing. “I hope that’s enough to show you how tired I am.”

“Not really,” Bunty replied, sitting down next to her. “Intentional or not, you love your innuendos.”

Even though the shaded patch was cool, heat radiated off the stone baking in the light. The sun had just crossed its apex but wasn’t low enough to heat the little patch yet. After taking long sips from the Core-enhanced flask, the pair indulged in lunch. Gwyneth shovelled food into her mouth before laying down for a short nap. Bunty didn’t plan on giving her long. They needed to get out of the crags before darkness fell.

According to the guidebook, the most dangerous beasts within were mostly nocturnal. Meanwhile, the worms got sluggish after the sunset and would burrow deep underground to rest in safety. The monstrous buzzards that feasted on their young would return their nests too. Smaller prey animals and predators would leave their burrows to find food then, but Bunty didn’t worry about them much. He was confident in his ability to fight ground-bound foes.

A couple of hours passed as Bunty watched the path behind them, expecting to see their pursuers burst out of the rock or appear to form an invisible crevasse. He smelled smoke instead. When he turned around, Bunty spotted black plumes rising from not far north of them. Gwyneth was still fast asleep, so he left her behind and crawled to the elevations edge to investigate. His jaw dropped at the sight. Bunty rushed back to his companion and shook her awake.

“Please.” Gwyneth moaned, batting his hand away. “I know I have a desirable body, Bunty, but I’m too tired.”

“I need your eyes!” He exclaimed.

“What is it?” Gwyneth asked, jumping into an upright position. Her hand jumped to the Slimeskin spear by her side.

Bunty pointed at the thick black smoke in the distance. “There’s a settlement there!” Gwyneth groaned as Bunty helped her onto her feet. They crawled closer for a better look. “I can’t see the flames,” Bunty said, realising a moment too late that he still had his looking glass. “Please tell me those are not FTF colours that are burning.”

Gwyneth summoned her spirit and set it to a soft glow. Her eyes shimmered as she squinted, focusing on the distant object. “It’s not,” she replied. “Those are DeLawney colours, and there are bodies everywhere.” Gwyneth pointed at a bulge in the sand near a collapsed fence. “That’s a worm carcass, I think. Looking at the equipment, I’m going to guess they were monopolising some beasts or resources around a gate and dug too deep.”

“That means there might be an unattended gate there!” Bunty exclaimed. “The DeLawneys are either dead or will have fled the fire.”

“So, if we clear a path through the burning remains, we could use the gate there and not travel another couple of days.”

“Exactly! Then you can get proper rest in a hub, and we can lose these bastards.”

“I’d like to rest a bit longer, but you’re right.” Gwyneth sighed. “It’s our best shot.”

The pair hydrated once more before finding their way down to ground level. Gwyneth refused to descend with her body pressed against the sun-baked stone, so they took a roundabout route. Bunty used Slimeskin to lower them into the crag’s passageways, and then they used the compass to leave the natural stone maze.

Gwyneth paused before they stepped onto the sand. “Someone else has been here,” she said, pointing at a stream flowing out of the crags not far to their left. It disappeared into a giant hole in the ground before touching the sand.

“It could be the people from the settlement,” Bunty said, nodding to the smouldering mass not far ahead of them. “Can you see which way the tracks are heading?”

“No.” Gwyneth shook her head. “I only see fresh blood and scraps of dirty cloth. There aren’t any discernible tracks. Only we’re stupid enough to travel towards a burning settlement instead of away from it, though. So, I think we’re on the clear.”

The pair hated it as soon as they stepped off the stone and onto the sand. It shifted under their feet, making every step a severe pain. The heat coming at them from every direction didn’t help either. To avoid the sandworms’ attention, they couldn’t move quickly either. Bunty shifted the summoned coat’s colour to red white and pulled his hood up to keep his head covered. Gwyneth did the same and hoped they wouldn’t stand out in the mostly yellow sand. Fortunately, there was no wind blowing up the sand. It would’ve made the trek much worse.

By the time the pair reached their destination, the sun was not far from disappearing over the horizon. Parts of the settlement were still ablaze, but mostly embers remained now. Bunty didn’t rush in, though. He selected a part of the walls not touched by the fire and pulled himself atop it. His stomach turned at the sight below.

Bunty had stood among dozens of dead bodies before but had never seen so many fresh human remains so close together. It wasn’t just the volume either. The bodies lay on the ground, burned and in pieces. The smells only made things worse. Besides the aroma of burnt human flesh and hair, Bunty detected rot too. He didn’t want to get close and check, but it was most likely the split open worm corpse that Gwyneth had spotted before.

“Where’s the gate?” Gwyneth asked when Bunty pulled her up.

“Most likely down there,” Bunty answered, pointing at the gaping hole in the stony ground. Corpses and dead seven-feet-long worms surrounded it.

“Let’s get this over with.” They hopped off the wall and weaved through the corpses. It surprised Bunty that Gwyneth didn’t flinch. He couldn’t help but wonder whether such sights were common in the DeLawney house’s service or she despised them enough not to give a damn. Bunty had no love for the house, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the twenty or so corpses. Most of them were probably people like him and Baba. They couldn’t all be horrid arseholes.

The lamp spirit increased its luminosity as they approached the hole. Bunty was ready to head down when Gwyneth grabbed his hand and pulled him back. A heartbeat later, the ground rippled where he’d been standing, and stone spikes thrust upwards towards the sky.

“Damnit!” Bunty swore under his breath, staggering backwards. He summoned the pen spirit and called forth the gauntlets without checking the ink-level. “Get back—”

Before Bunty could direct Gwyneth, the club-wielder leapt out of the hole. He shattered the stone spikes with a single swing of his club and shouldered Bunty. Unlike Gwyneth, he hadn’t rested and failed to avoid or block the attack. He found himself thrown off his feet and landed in a pile of smouldering wood—a sharp pain bit at his side not far from Edgar’s poisoned injury. The coat’s padding had protected Bunty from most of the blunt trauma, but a shard of pointed wood had ripped through the soft material. He extended a tentacle from the left gauntlet, lashed a nearby wall and pulled himself away.

Fortunately, none of the wood came with him. Bunty guessed the wound wasn’t deep. Since he was already hot and soaked in sweat, Bunty couldn’t tell how badly he was bleeding. The quick escape had put some distance between him and the club-wielder, though, and he took the opportunity to splatter ink on the painful area. A stiffen command temporarily patched the wound.

Much to Bunty’s surprise, Gwyneth was now on the opposite end of the settlement facing the pickaxe man. She wielded the black ink spear with both hands while and lightning arced from the Spiderleg atop it. He was glad the imbuement spell wasn’t just limited to metal but enhanced the ink too. Bunty’s moment of rest ended when the club-wielder dashed at him at full speed.

The man moved surprisingly fast for someone carrying such an oversized weapon. The bone club was longer than his leg and as wide as his thigh at the thickest. Yet he switched between wielding it with one or two hands like it was no big deal. Due to the surrounding rubble and still burning bits, Bunty couldn’t use his mobility to full effect. So, he absorbed the tentacle and activated the Frost Blade spell before dashing in to meet the man. Considering the man’s ridiculous strength, Bunty knew blocking wasn’t an option. Besides, the pain in his side would only worsen if he tried to deflect or absorb blows. Baba’s footwork would have to suffice.

Just before the first downward swing could make contact, Bunty took a tiny step to the left, letting the blow miss his shoulder by a hair. Then he thrust the fountain pen’s enlarged nib into the man’s side. Much to Bunty’s surprise, his attack glanced off the man’s side. It ripped through his coat, but armour made of painted bone had stopped it. A deep groove remained, and frost spread from the line, though. The man struck Bunty with a backhanded blow, pushing him backwards. The impact from the man’s arm didn’t pack as much power as form the bone. Bunty guessed he wore Core-enhanced equipment, or it was all part of a single tool spirit.

“What the hell do you want?” Bunty asked, putting some distance between the man and himself. Fortunately, the bounty hunter paused, giving Bunty a moment to study him. Bits of bone were stitched into the man’s clothing. The coat’s sleeves had several pieces stitched into the leather, and he wore a vest of the same material under it. Bunty tried to spot the Cores, but he couldn’t. “We already crippled your friends. Leave us alone before the same happens to you, bastards.”

“I am Oss, Bunty Sen, and we’ll talk if you survive my test.” The man spoke in a surprisingly warm tone before charging once again.

Instead of using downward swings like before, Oss swung his bone club in a one-handed, horizontal arc. There was a certain wildness to the attack that sent chills down Bunty’s spine. He had faced humanoid foes wielding a variety of weapons, but they generally came at him with some degree of restraint. They feared counter-attacks and left room for defence or retreat, which Bunty could capitalise on. Oss did not, but at the same time, there were no openings in his assault. Bunty didn’t have much room to dodge backwards. Oss could easily catch the club with his free-hand and then go on a breathless rampage. It would corner Bunty and most likely kill him or shatter his bones. So, he met the charge head-on.

Instead of parrying the attack, Bunty made an unorthodox move and fell on to all fours. Then he thrust the Frost Blade at his opponent’s thigh. Oss avoided the attack masterfully, using the momentum of his swing to spin away from Bunty. While doing so, he struck Bunty’s head with his shin. The blow sent tremors through Bunty’s skull and made his vision blurry, but he had enough sense to roll away from the spot. The attack that would’ve broken his axe-wielding arm missed.

The thumping in Bunty’s chest got so loud he struggled to hear anything else. He had never faced a martially superior foe in real combat. Despite his seemingly wild movements, Oss’s body controlled, rivalled Baba’s. Bunty rejected the idea a moment later. He realised it was fear rationalising his poor performance. Oss’s movements were skilful, but it was the mysterious equipment that made him a real threat. If Bunty understood Oss’s power’s source or nature, then he could figure out a way to counter it. The man wasn’t his martial superior but an equal with superior equipment.

Once again, he met Oss’s assault head-on. Instead of dodging altogether, he moved close to Oss’s torso and prevented the man from building momentum. Oss responded by elbowing Bunty, and he accepted the blow on the coat’s squishy shoulder padding. “Stick,” he whispered after dropping his axe and grabbed Oss’s raised hands with his right-hand gauntlet, preventing the downward swing. Bunty released the summon but didn’t reabsorb the ink. Instead, he let the amorphous blob ooze onto Oss’s arms, shoulder, and face as they wrestled against one another.

Oss didn’t let Bunty capitalise on the opening. Oss stomped Bunty’s right foot to avoid the Frost Blade and barrelled into him with his full weight. The two fell in a tangled heap writhing against one another. Oss used his weight to keep Bunty down, but the more he struggled, the more he got trapped in the Slimeskins sticky, stretchy mess. After a couple of minutes of wrestling, they managed to get free of one another, and Bunty rushed to his axe.

When he turned around, Oss was standing upright with the Slimeskin contained around one arm. Bunty’s jaw fell open as he realised he had no idea how to defeat his foe.

“I think we can call it a day, Bunty Sen,” Oss declared.

“What do you mean we can call it a day?” Bunty asked, panting. He used the opportunity to catch his breath and look for an opening. Oss had a cut on his right cheek and left arm, but both appeared shallow. Frost had painted the skin around the wounds white, and he hoped the man got frostbite. “Are you done? Can we bloody well, retreat?”

“There’s no need for that.” Oss laughed heartily. His deep voice and tone, though friendly, sounded out of place for the given circumstance. “Explorer asked me to look out for you, Bunty Sen, and help you through the interval.”

“What?!” Bunty exclaimed, struggling to comprehend the man’s words. “Then why the hell did you attack me?”

Oss shrugged. “Explorer rarely takes a liking to Climbers and has never handed out a named spirit. I had to test you out, of course.”

Bunty looked back at Gwyneth, still fighting the pickaxe man. “Then what in the world is going on with your friends? Why are they still fighting us?” He felt his volume getting louder as anger and frustration replaced the earlier hopelessness.

“Oh. They genuinely want to kill you and capture your friend. I just joined since they had better means of tracking you.”

Bunty wanted to punch Oss in the face but fought the urge. It was not the time to pick a fight with someone stronger than him.