CHAPTER 170: RUMBLE

The station wasn’t much more than a weather-stained platform with a half-collapsed roof, the kind of place that rattled in the wind. A single light flickered above the ticket machine, buzzing faintly.

Lucen shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "You think the train’ll even bother stopping here?"

"It’s on the route," Varik said, stepping up onto the platform. He leaned one shoulder against a support beam, posture loose but balanced. "They always stop."

The breeze carried the smell of wet earth and old metal from the tracks. Somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a hollow, rasping call.

Lucen was about to comment on the silence when voices drifted up the stairs from the far end. Four people emerged, a squad, judging from the matching dark-blue jackets. Their gear looked expensive but lightly used. One carried a bow slung over his back, another had twin short swords strapped across her hips.

The archer spotted them first. "Evening," he called, tone friendly enough. "You two out here for the crimson breach?"

Lucen just glanced at Varik. Varik didn’t answer, so Lucen said, "Already cleared."

That made all four stop halfway across the platform. The swordswoman raised a brow. "Cleared? With just you two?"

"Yeah," Lucen said, voice flat.

The third in the group, a tall guy with a greatsword, laughed under his breath. "Not to be rude, but... you don’t look like you could’ve taken a crimson on your own."

Lucen tilted his head, studying them. ’Not to be rude’, always the lead-in before someone was exactly that.

The bowman smiled politely. "We’ve been tracking that breach since yesterday. You must’ve had help?"

Lucen let the silence stretch just long enough to make them shift uncomfortably. "Nope."

The fourth member, a short woman with an oversized staff, leaned toward the swordswoman and whispered, not quietly enough, "Maybe they tagged along with a bigger guild."

Varik still hadn’t moved from where he leaned against the beam. He didn’t even look at them, just kept his gaze on the far tracks. Lucen, meanwhile, caught the swordswoman’s faint smirk.

He almost laughed. ’Oh, this is good.’

Before he could reply, the platform shuddered faintly, the train’s approach rumble. The lights in the distance grew, reflecting off the damp rails.

The bowman stepped closer. "Look, no offense, but if you’re not registered for crimson-class ops, it’s risky to—"

Varik’s voice cut through, calm but final. "They’re cleared."

All four turned toward him. He didn’t meet their eyes, just said, "If you’ve got questions about the breach, talk to the Guild."

The swordswoman’s smirk faltered. The train’s brakes hissed as it rolled in, metal screeching against the rails.

Lucen stepped past them, catching the bowman’s eye on the way. "Better hurry before it leaves you."

The squad hesitated, then climbed aboard after them.

—

Inside, the train smelled faintly of oil and damp cloth. Lucen claimed a window seat, Varik taking the one beside him. The squad settled two rows ahead, still throwing occasional glances back.

Lucen waited until the train was moving before saying quietly, "You could’ve told them."

"They didn’t need to know," Varik said.

"You mean you didn’t feel like explaining."

"Same thing."

Lucen smirked faintly, leaning back against the seat. The rhythmic sway of the train filled the quiet between them.

After a moment, Varik added, "You enjoyed that."

Lucen didn’t bother denying it. ’Yeah. I did.’

The windows blurred with streaks of passing trees, the last traces of dusk fading into night.

—

The train hummed along, steel wheels biting the rails with that steady, low rhythm that always made the ride feel half-asleep. Lamps along the carriage ceiling swayed faintly with each bump. Outside, the night was a smear of black trees and the occasional glint of moonlight off water.

Lucen leaned against the cold window, letting it cool his temple. His reflection stared back, hood low, jaw shadowed. In the glass, he could also see the squad two rows ahead. The swordswoman was leaned over the table seat, talking low to the staff-wielder. Every so often, the bowman would glance back toward him and Varik like he was checking to see if they were listening.

Varik wasn’t listening. Or maybe he was, but he looked like he wasn’t, eyes half-lidded, posture loose, arms resting on his knees. That was the thing about Varik: you never really knew if he was half-asleep or reading the trajectory of your heartbeat.

The tall guy with the greatsword finally turned in his seat. "So... you really cleared a crimson with just the two of you?"

Lucen didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang while he adjusted his gloves. "Pretty sure I already said yes."

The tall guy’s grin was polite but not quite genuine. "Just curious how. Those things chew through even A-rank teams."

Lucen tilted his head. "Guess we’re not A-rank teams."

The staff-wielder whispered something that made the swordswoman cover her mouth to hide a smile.

Varik’s voice broke in, low and even. "Sit forward."

The tall guy frowned. "What?"

"Sit. Forward."

It wasn’t a request.

The man turned back around, muttering under his breath, but he obeyed.

’Like swatting a fly,’ Lucen thought, smirking faintly. ’And he didn’t even raise his voice.’

The train rattled over a junction, the sound sharp in the night. The hum of the wheels shifted.

Then Lucen felt it.

Not sound. Not sight. Just a pressure, like the air thickening, the way the world sometimes felt right before a dungeon breach opened. His fingers twitched toward the hilt of his sword out of instinct.

He glanced at Varik. The man’s eyes were open now, sharp and alert, though he hadn’t moved otherwise.

"You feel that?" Lucen asked, low enough only Varik could hear.

"Yes."

It was subtle at first, a faint vibration through the floor that didn’t match the train’s rhythm. The windows shivered in their frames.

Lucen straightened. "That’s not the track."

The staff-wielder up ahead noticed too. She pressed a hand to the table, frowning. "Uh... is it just me, or—"

The train lurched. Not a gentle sway, but a deep, rolling shudder that made luggage shift in the overhead racks. Metal squealed somewhere beneath them.

The bowman gripped the seat edge. "What the hell—"

The lights flickered.

Lucen was already standing, scanning the length of the carriage. "Something’s under us."

The tall guy laughed nervously. "Under us? We’re on tracks."

Varik rose in one smooth motion. "Something is under us."

Another shudder, harder this time. One of the overhead bags slid free and thumped to the floor. The conductor’s voice crackled over the intercom, sharp with tension. "All passengers remain seated. We are—"

The speaker cut out with a burst of static.

Lucen caught the shift in air pressure a split second before the impact hit. The floor beneath them buckled with a deafening bang. The entire carriage jolted upward and slammed back down. Windows cracked. Screams erupted from the rear.

The tall guy was on his feet now, greatsword half-drawn. The bowman swore under his breath, unslinging his weapon.

The floor between Lucen and the squad split in a violent tear. Shards of steel and splinters of wood flew upward as something massive forced its way through, a dark, chitinous limb with serrated edges, glistening wet under the flickering lights.

The staff-wielder shrieked and stumbled back. The limb swung sideways, catching the edge of the table and shearing it clean in half.

Lucen’s mind sharpened instantly. ’Big. Strong. Fast. And inside a moving train. Great.’

The limb withdrew as quickly as it had struck. A low, grinding screech echoed beneath them.

Varik moved past Lucen toward the breach in the floor. "Stay back."

Lucen ignored that.

A second limb burst through the floor farther down the carriage, spearing through a row of seats. This one didn’t retreat, it hooked into the metal, tearing a hole wider.

Lucen’s hand snapped out, mana coiling and compressing into his palm. The blast tore through the limb at the joint, black fluid spraying against the opposite wall.

The train swayed violently, the torn floor gaping open to a blur of track and darkness rushing past below.

The bowman loosed an arrow into the hole, it sparked off chitin with little effect. The tall guy leapt forward and swung his greatsword down. The limb yanked back before he connected, vanishing into the undercarriage.

Varik was still, head tilted like he was listening. Then he looked at Lucen. "Top of the carriage."

Lucen’s brow furrowed. "It’s on top now?"

"Moving forward."

As if on cue, the roof above the front end of the carriage buckled inward with a screech of metal. Something heavy was crawling across it, denting the panels with each step.

Lucen glanced at the squad. "Guess you get to see how."

He moved toward the front, boots steady despite the swaying train. The roof caved slightly ahead of him, dust and rivets falling loose.

Varik followed at his own pace, eyes tracking the movement above. "Don’t kill it until we’re on the freight car."

Lucen smirked. "Sure. We’ll let it ride in style."

The roof gave one last deep dent before a hooked claw punched straight through, searching blindly. It caught the bowman’s seat and tore it sideways, flinging him to the floor.

Lucen stepped in, seized the claw with one hand, and flooded it with raw mana. The chitin cracked under the pressure before the creature yanked free with a shriek that rattled the windows.

The sound shifted, the weight on the roof moved toward the next carriage.

Varik nodded once toward the door. "Move."

Lucen pushed through into the coupling area, cold night air slamming into him. Wind roared past, pulling at his hood and coat. Ahead, the freight car loomed in the dark, its roof already bowing under the thing’s weight.

Varik was right behind him, boots gripping the steel grating like it was solid ground. "On my mark."

Lucen flexed his fingers, mana sparking faintly between them. ’Let’s see if this thing screams louder outside.’