While canines are great adversaries of the undead, it is unwise to raise them into your armies. It always seems like a good idea at first. Oh, if they do so much damage to my troops, they’ll surely enable me to rule my Necrostate with an iron fist. The problem with canines is that their instincts are ingrained deep within their soul. They’ll go after the hordes of fodder first, clamping their jaws into many delicious bones. Then, they’ll come for the mighty generals who are no better at fending off such horrid beasts. Then, they’ll come for you and when they do, it’s already too late. The four legged devil always gets its bone.

The three of us descended further down into the dungeon. Dren looked nervous, very nervous.

“So if the guards can’t come down here, and the mayor can’t come down here, and if war golems can’t come down here, then what exactly is chasing us?” I asked Dren.

“I, I can’t tell you. It’s bad enough, I’ve seen them. I took the vow.”

“What vow?” asked Rose.

The vow of silence.

I gulped. My imagination ran wild thinking about what exactly was tumbling after me. There were nearly endless possibilities of things that could be hunting me. I tried to distract myself by looking at the well-maintained steps we descended down.

That was odd. Someone must have been down here, sculpting the stone, repairing the path deeper into the dungeon. For something the city desperately wanted out of the hands of the public, they sure did make it easy to traverse. The stone handrail accompanying the stairs only further proved my point. I admitted that it was rather convenient, so I didn’t think about it too much. My thoughts were more focused on what was hunting me.

Now, it's well known that all staircases eventually end. There is no such thing as an endless staircase, and if someone ever tells you that there is such a thing, it’s either a well thought out pyramid scheme or the person’s brain has rotted. Sometimes, it is both.

Level ground came sooner than expected. There were no winding paths to lose ourselves in, nor were there any alcoves to hide in. Whatever was hunting us, had a straightforward path at finding the three of us.

The room connected to the perfectly straight stairs was a perfectly square room. Something about this seemed awfully familiar but I couldn’t quite place the reason why.

“Where’s the winding caves and ancient endless dungeons? There is supposed to be an endless dungeon forged from eons of poor overworked workers.” Dren panicked.

“It must have been a lie,” I said.

“I know that now! I just don’t know why they’d lie. There’s nothing of worth in this city! I would know, I’ve lived here my whole life!”

As I ran my hands against the stone walls, I felt the etchings carved deep within the stone. They reminded me of the room leading into Malkor the Devourers lair, I realized. However, while the art style was similar, the story depicted on the wall was very different. It was a different kind of warning.

No beasts or offerings were carved into the stone. Instead, it showed men in coats who held vials, hammers, and scribbled notes with their quills. You could almost feel the pain of the men and children strung to outstretched tables, as butchers dressed up like surgeons carved into them. Cut limbs and excess flesh filled baskets, bones stacked in piles. It was a gruesome depiction.

There was a singular, slightly open stone door. I just prayed that there wouldn’t be any predators lurking beyond this room. Based on Dren’s demeanor, there wasn’t much of a choice of backtracking. Our survival relied on us entering the stone door.

I held my breath. My heart beat, adrenaline coursing through my body. My traumatic experience with the Dark One came to the forefront of my memories. I didn’t want to be the cause of anymore death. I stepped through the door.

I let out a sigh of relief as the only thing that surrounded me was a laboratory. I noticed old contraptions and beakers I recognized from Alric’s office, so whoever had worked here at the very least dabbled in ritual magic. Everything from the front tools on the stone shelf, to the dust free floor told a story of someone meticulously maintaining this room. You could tell by the design of the tools that they weren’t new. Whoever had been down here was maintaining history. The important question was why.

“I don’t understand. What does the city want with a medical room?” asked Dren.

“Maybe it gets used regularly for special events.” proposed Rose.

“No, that doesn’t make sense. They don’t send anyone down here, except when someone crosses the sign. If they were using this space, then I’d have noticed.” remarked Dren.

“What if they are looking for something?” I asked.

“It’s possible, but they’ve been warding off people for the past century at least. I’m sure they would have found what they were looking for.”

“What if they don’t know exactly what they’re looking for? Obviously, this place has had some significance long ago. I’ve come across etchings similar to what was found in the prior room dating all the way back to the Azmorillians. What if the space was used by some significant historical figure, someone who had numerous secrets that were lost to time?”

“There are countless individuals who fit that criteria. It's not a well-kept secret that Nosturdam used to be the pinnacle of innovation long before the church made its way to Nosturdam.” Dren said.

There was something strange going on with my mana sense. I could see death mana slowly leaking out of a wall. I dismissed it at first. Maybe a bat had found its way into a neighboring alcove, and starved to death when it couldn’t find its way out. The issue was that there weren't any tunnels that broke off from the well-kept steps.

“Maybe they didn’t find anything because they’re too cowardly to break apart the walls.”

“What?” Dren and Rose asked in unison, as if I had lost my mind.

I decided to find out what exactly was hiding in the walls. Among the tools laid out on the table, there was a large hammer that was typically used to smash ingredients or ligaments into pulp. Perfect. I reached out and grabbed the hammer.

“Hey! We’re in enough trouble as it is. Put down the hammer,” Dren warned me.

I ignored him.

“Listen to Dren, Arthur. Smashing things doesn’t solve problems, thinking does. We’ve got some time to come up with a plan. That’ll only anger the people coming after us more.”

I ignored her.

I swung the hammer at the wall with all my might, shattering the stone. I swung again and again, until I chipped the stone enough to reveal a tunnel. Like the rooms, it was perfectly square. It was just large enough for someone to climb through if they crawled on their knees like a toddler. Azog wouldn’t have fit, but he wasn’t in the laboratory so it didn’t matter.

“Ooh, looks like I happened to find a secret tunnel. I guess I’ve gotten a bit lucky.”

Dren and Rose stood behind me speechless. There open jaws made them look stupid. If a bug were to find its way down in the depth of this dungeon, then they’d probably accidentally swallow it.

“How’d you know that was there?” Dren demanded more than asked.

“I didn’t. I figured I’d swing the hammer and release some tension. I think they call it concussive therapy or something like that. Now my anger has been symbolically crushed like the stone in front of me.”

“You’re full of shit, Arthur. Concussive therapy isn’t a real thing.” Rose said.

“Of course it is. I just did it and feel much better. You should give it a try sometime.”

Dren narrowed his eyes.

“How do you believe this guy? He just happens to smash his way into a hidden tunnel probably hidden for eons.”

“Well, if it's not luck, what else could it be?” Rose reasoned.

Dren let out a deep sigh and shut his mouth. He realized that he wasn’t going to get the answers he was looking for from me. So he got on his knees like the rest of us, and crawled through the tunnel.

The death mana grew thicker and more viscous as we crawled farther into the tunnel. Whatever was at the other end, had a presence that I hadn’t felt since meeting the Dark One in the flesh. There was no turning back even if I wanted to; the tunnel was just too narrow.