CHAPTER 93: BENEATH THE COBBLESTONE.

The wind that swept through the southern ridge was dry and restless, like a breath from some ancient, slumbering beast.

It carried with it the scent of cracked stone, rotting wood, and old magic—the kind that settled deep in your bones and whispered that you didn’t belong here.

Drakemire’s lower cliffside slums unfurled ahead like a corpse left to decay in the open. Sagging rooftops leaned against one another like drunkards.

The cobblestone paths were uneven, swallowed in parts by vines and ash-colored moss.

What had once been homes and workshops were now broken shells, sun-bleached and forgotten. No guards. No foot traffic. Not even beggars dared to wander this far down.

Ethan led the group in silence. His eyes moved constantly, noting every flicker of shadow and glint of mana residue.

Something about this place didn’t just feel wrong—it felt hollow, as though the city itself was holding its breath.

Liora walked beside him, gliding effortlessly over the wreckage. She was too graceful for someone so deadly.

Her crimson eyes caught every detail, every ripple of mana in the air. Her boots didn’t make a sound. Even the dust seemed to part for her.

Behind them, Daniel moved like a blade sheathed in calm—tense, focused. His hood was up, but his eyes scanned every wall, every broken window, like a hunter trailing wounded prey.

Reyna brought up the rear, cracking her neck and yawning like she’d rather be doing anything else. But her hand never left the hilt of her greatsword. Her muscles were coiled, ready.

She may have looked bored, but Ethan knew that was just the lull before the storm.

"This part of the city," Ethan muttered, breaking the silence, "it was evacuated years ago. Earthquakes, some claimed. Others said mana poisoning from a botched ritual. But the real reason? It’s too unstable to rebuild. Too inconvenient to demolish. So they let it rot."

"Perfect place to hide," Daniel said. "No one comes down here unless they’re desperate. Or stupid."

Liora sniffed the air, frowning faintly. "There’s mana here. Distorted... fragmented. Like it’s been broken and stitched together again. Sloppily."

Reyna grunted. "Y’mean cursed?"

"Not quite," Liora said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But close."

They walked in silence a while longer. A faded banner hung from a scorched doorway, its sigil long erased by time. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cried once—then nothing.

Ethan slowed his pace. "Liora," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I need you to be more than a passenger today."

Her gaze slid toward him. "Oh?"

"You’re a vampire. Your senses—hearing, smell, magical detection—they’re stronger than any of ours. We might miss something. You won’t."

Liora’s smile was slow, wry. "So now you trust me?"

"I trust results," Ethan said. "And if we’re going to uncover what this cult is doing, I need you sharp."

Her expression shifted slightly. Softer. Almost genuine. "You will have it. I promised, didn’t I? Help me regain my strength, and I help you with everything else. That hasn’t changed."

Ethan gave a nod.

Reyna snorted. "Still weird we’re workin’ with a blood-drinker. But if she’s useful, I’ll shut my trap. For now."

"I’m deeply honored," Liora deadpanned.

Suddenly, Daniel halted.

Without a word, he darted forward—silent as a shadow—and knelt at a fractured intersection up ahead. His hand brushed the cobblestones with slow precision, fingers pressing into the gaps.

Ethan blinked. "Daniel?"

No reply.

The rest of the team rushed forward. Ethan arrived first, crouching beside him.

Reyna caught up, grumbling. "Oi, ya run off like a feral mutt and don’t even shout? Thought we were bein’ ambushed or somethin’. What the hell’s up with ya?"

Daniel didn’t look up. "Liora. You feel it?"

Liora’s gaze narrowed. She stepped forward, crouched beside him, and let her hand hover just above the stone. "Yes... there’s something underneath. Faint mana trail. Old."

Ethan dropped to a knee and pressed his palm to the cobblestone.

At first, nothing.

But then—there it was. A faint pulse. Subtle, like the echo of a heartbeat from beneath the ground.

"This spot is hollow," Daniel murmured. "The echo beneath—it’s not solid."

"You sure?" Ethan asked.

"I grew up in ruins like this. You learn to hear the difference between safety and a deathtrap." His lips quirked. "This one’s hiding something."

"Hmph." Reyna leaned over his shoulder. "Looks like any other stone. Yer both mad."

Ethan didn’t respond aloud.

System, he whispered in his mind. Scan the cobblestone.

[SYSTEM]

[Affirmative, host.]

[Scanning initiated...]

[Subterranean structure located].

[Concealed stairway beneath cobblestone segment.]

[Partial scan: Area leads into a magically shielded zone.]

[Full analysis available upon descent.]

Ethan’s eyes sharpened. A magically shielded underground structure.

"Reyna," he said, standing. "Break this one."

Her grin was immediate. "Finally."

She unslung her massive greatsword, its crimson hue catching the weak light. Her muscles rippled beneath her armor as she took a two-handed grip.

"Step back," she warned, voice low.

Then she swung.

The impact was thunderous. Stone cracked like glass, then shattered entirely. Dust billowed up, fragments skittering across the ground.

As the haze settled, a dark pit emerged—rectangular and narrow, its edges lined with old, moss-choked bricks.

A staircase twisted down into the blackness, so steep it looked like it had been carved by claws instead of tools.

Daniel exhaled. "As predicted."

Liora’s expression darkened. "The mana is thicker down there. It clings to the air like rot."

Reyna’s brow furrowed. "There’s somethin’ alive down there. Ain’t just stone."

Ethan stared into the yawning void. He could feel it. The faint, rhythmic pulse. Not like magic.

Like breath.

He glanced back at his team. "This could be the first real lead."

Daniel nodded. "We go together. Eyes sharp."

"Don’t gotta tell me twice," Reyna said, cracking her knuckles.

They moved.

Daniel took the first step, vanishing into shadow with a hunter’s poise. Liora followed silently, the darkness welcoming her like an old friend. Reyna stomped in behind them, her sword resting on her shoulder, a wild grin forming on her face.

Ethan stood at the top of the stairs for a moment longer.

The air was still.

The stairwell exhaled, almost imperceptibly.

And he felt it again—something below. Watching. Waiting.

He drew his blade halfway, the steel whispering a promise of violence, then slid it back into place.

"I hope you’re ready," he muttered.

Then he stepped into the dark.