Hunting inside the labyrinth had become an efficient process. Under Deng and Daiden’s command, the punitive force returned to the first door in under four hours. They forward deployed to clear the stragglers and managed a leaderless horde without any losses as well. It boosted morale. But the soldiers also remembered their encounter with the two Acris, a battle wrought with fear and despair. The memory of their fallen comrades bandaged around their hearts, helping them obsessively fixate on clearing the infestation.

Daiden improved his relationship with the newer soldiers by producing more Grim Falcon Cloaks. He lowered his participation in some of the easier confrontations, mending the soldiers’ leather armour instead.

Eventually, they pushed deeper into the underground labyrinth. They resupplied at a few other rooms and recruited ten more soldiers along the way.

“This would’ve been impossible without them,” admitted Daiden, in thought. He continued out loud. “The dungeon’s complexity is unprecedented. Makes you wonder why it was made in the first place…”

“I hear that it used to be a place of torture,” said Leda, catching the last of Daiden’s thoughts. “Slaves, prisoners…I can’t tell. People interpret the Godvildian Prayer differently.”

“In worship, we walk the path of blood…” remembered Daiden, again. “It doesn’t only refer to combat and war, does it?”

“Not all interpretations are noble,” remarked Leda. “The Noxun, Relictan, and Godvildian Empires, along with some of the smaller kingdoms, theirs is a history mired in bloodshed and darkness. We aren’t always kind, or good at heart. We just believe that to make it a little easier for us to fell our obstacles, be it through murder or oppression. I imagine everyone does, even the many that stand against us.”

Daiden likened the explanation to his history lessons on the British Rule in India. “One coin, two sides. It really does depend on who tells the story…” His mind waded into deeper thoughts on the matter. Several perspectives, different stories, until a sound caught his attention. He heard someone fall with a thud.

“What happened?” asked Deng, from a distance.

While the soldiers explained the situation, Daiden noticed his feet slosh with every step. He felt a slight shiver and slowly guided his light towards the floor, finding several puddles of what smelt like blood. His eyes caught splatters on the walls as well. He clapped to draw everyone’s attention to his discovery.

The trail led to body parts, fallen comrades and undeads alike. Not cut, but torn. A few of the dead faces reflected a slew of emotions, mere moments from death. Dread, a sense of hopelessness, almost everything negative, in pain.

Outside of a few stragglers, the group never ran into a full-fledged horde again. The air soon sunk with a strange tension, and the soldiers fidgeted with a restless energy.

“Someone’s been taking care of them for us,” mentioned Daiden, now next to Deng. “Is this something you can explain?”

“I’ll need some time,” said Deng, with a frown. He felt a sudden pain in his neck. “Ugh. This is killing me.

“Ah, let’s see. Ser Daiden, I recommend that we find someplace to set up camp, not for long.”

The Multana Captain led the group to a room filled with supplies. With some of the soldiers charged with handling the inventory, Deng started to draw a partial map of the dungeon once more. He covered the unexplored regions mainly, finishing in a little over one hour.

“Are you able to sense where the necrotic energy is at its strongest?” asked Deng, addressing the priest from Sol Sanctum.

Leda shook his head. “No. I can’t feel the flow of aeter very well. But I do sense a disturbance near the back of the dungeon.”

“That’s good enough,” said Deng. He scratched the floor with his stick and overlaid a path on his drawing. “This is the shortest route to the back of the dungeon.”

“You recommend not clearing all the paths, then?” checked Daiden, guessing the Multana Captain’s intentions.

“No,” said Deng, quickly. “We faced Acri-led hordes near the entrance of the dungeon. Stronger undeads are fiercely territorial, and their presence away from the tear can only mean one of two things.

“First, the possibility of undeads stronger than the Acri deeper inside the dungeon. Skirmishes are common even amongst the undeads, but it rarely results in a massacre. We have the corpses of our fallen comrades to consider as well.”

“You’re referring to the mess outside,” mentioned Daiden, slowly. “What’s the alternative?”

“Right,” acknowledged Deng, with a short nod. He pictured the sight in his mind, causing his chest to swell with pain. He swallowed the vomit that had surged up to his throat, but with the eyes of his soldiers on him, the Multana Captain continued by supressing his emotions on the matter. “I don’t think there’s a higher ranked undead than the Acri in this dungeon. It’s good news in a way. That leaves us with only one other explanation.”

Deng circled a section on the path towards their destination. “If I’m correct, then we definitely have a problem on our hands. Well, it’s helping us…again, in a way. I’m not sure how to receive this situation, to be honest.”

With the inventory restocked, the group exited the room. They followed Deng’s recommended path, witnessing walls painted with innards and blood, and floors strewn with eyeballs and chipped teeth. The soldiers shivered from the experience. Daiden noticed the labyrinth become smellier, closer to their destination. The silence pinched at his skin, muddling his mind with a dark cloud of anxiety.

“Is it just me, or do I always experience silence in the worst way possible?” wondered Daiden, from recent memories. “For once, I would like to just embrace the peace and quiet.”

The Multana Captain stopped after reaching a large hole in the wall. He nudged his light inside, just a bit, to confirm the existence of a separate corridor.

“Let’s break into two groups here,” said Deng. “Ser Daiden, Priest Leda, I would like the two of you to come with me.”

A few of the soldiers remained on guard at the entrance. Despite the darkness, Deng led the group without difficulty. Their walk continued for some time, through a long stretch without an end in sight. The group reached an entrance near the end. Deng knelt and checked the slightly elevated floor, then the large, thick iron door. He pushed against the metal with some force, but the door refused to budge. He checked the base next, noticing a rough texture on the floor. “It’s open…”

Deng poked his head into the room and jerked away almost immediately. He felt the pain in his neck again.

“It’s open!” confirmed Deng, out loud this time. “This just makes me feel sick...”

“What’s going on?” asked Daiden, immediately.

“Well, we should consider this the worst-case scenario,” stammered Deng, with a grim expression. “Gis…the Butcher, this was where we kept him imprisoned! He’s outside now…”

The labyrinth shuddered in that moment, shaking the dust loose from the ceiling. The corridor welled with a dense, ominous form of aeter, emanating a foul odour. Eventually, they heard a shrill whistle. Daiden, Deng, and Leda regrouped with the soldiers outside and heard it again. The corridors called to them, drawing a clearer path to their destination.

“We’re closer to the end now, aren’t we?” said Daiden, with a gulp.