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    Deadacre’s catacombs were barren things. The sewers above were labyrinthine, but there was a method to their madness. Ventral waterways cut through the ground beneath like arteries, while smaller capillaries serviced the needs of every lane and tucked away buildings.

    The catacombs couldn’t have been more different. They were three dimensional, like a tangled heap of yarn had been used as a blueprint. Each tunnel was similar — a cramped thing made of a dark brown brick, barely tall enough for Porkchop to stand. They were, thankfully, wide enough for them to comfortably maneuver as a cohesive unit. Being forced into single file would have been hell in the current circumstances.

    Tiny niches littered the walls, walled off with thin clay plates that had sealed away their contents for millenia. Not all survived, and those that broke revealed ancient bones, rotten scraps of cloth, and squat urns.

    There was no light to see. None of them needed it.

    A sudden shriek came from around a bend ahead of them. It heralded another wave of beasts — a motley collection of rodents that came up to his waist, and an ant-like creature that crawled on the roof.


    They died quickly, just more bones for the graveyard they travelled through.

    Kaius knew they were getting close. The calls of beasts were constant — a chittering hum that crawled down the back of his neck. Logically, he knew that none of the creatures posed much of a threat to him and his team.

    It was still hard to shake marrow-deep instincts that screamed at him. Being stuck in a bloody catacomb full of monsters was uncomfortable, no matter how strong he was.

    Taking another corner, Kaius locked eyes with a skull set deep into a hole in the wall. He looked away, feeling its gaze following them even as they passed.

    He’d read up on the catacombs before their first foray into the ruins below. Very little was known about them, other than that they were old. Much older than the city and sewers above. That much was obvious. The deep red-brown of the brick was so very distinct compared to the grey stone masonry used in much of modern Deadacre’s construction.

    As far as people had been able to tell, they were built at minimum in the dark ages following the shattering — millenia old. It was entirely possible that they were pre-imperial. Much of the surviving imperial ruins had been those that had been intentionally buried deep and hidden as best as they were able to. Hiding them beneath existing ruins wasn’t out of the question. Such structures existed, not many, considering the immense age, but they did exist.

    Some were even famous. Galtha was the closest: an ancient township that had been excavated in the central regions of the Greenseed Dukedoms. Little more than foundations with a few murals and basements. Kaius didn’t quite understand the hubbub, but the author of the book he’d read about the catacombs had been insistent that there were commonalities between the two structures.

    Namely, the extensive warren of bones that sprawled beneath the surface.

    It was a scholar’s fascination, and his worst nightmare. If Porkchop was right, the dense network of tunnels would make it a painful exercise to cleanse the city of golden ceratin. He could only hope that the Tyrant had fully subverted their natural instincts.

    If they were all crawling for those sheltering in the ruin, they would at least be in one place. If they were spreading as far as they were able, it would take the full weight of the guild to track them down and root them out before they grew into full fledged horrors.

    They had to take out the source, before the problem could grow. Thankfully, they were getting close. The flow of beasts was getting thicker, though they had yet to see signs of the grubs themselves.

    As they ran through the dark, Kaius weighed up their approach to the coming battle. Magna had been clear, the hive queen was guarded by two other large forms — though they knew frustratingly little else.

    Porkchop had warned them of Royal Guards — hive spawn produced solely to protect their matriarch. Speed-demons with scythes that would put a mantis to shame. He and Porkchop would have to tie up one each, to give Ianmus and Kenva the space to put down the queen. Even if the creature was tough, he didn’t doubt that his teammates had enough firepower.

    Porkchops ears twitched, pricking in the direction of their target.

    “I hear something,”

    A few more bends, and Kaius heard it too. The rhythmic slap of flesh — like a steak thrown at a butcher’s block. The noise was faint, but layered, made by many bodies. The grubs, it had to be.

    It didn’t take long before he saw them. Maggots as large as his thigh, with pale yellow bodies that were capped by a head of gleaming black carapace that dominated a third of their total size — most of that made up by hooked mandibles that shone with a sticky fluid.

    There were so many, a loose procession scattered through the tunnel, dutifully crawling deeper into the dark.

    Kaius analysed one, letting out a hiss.

    Golden Ceratin Larva – Level 31 Seed of Potential

    The sight of the system’s words curdled his blood. Rotten roots, Porkchop was right.

    Again and again he pulled up their description. All were the same, their levels ranging from thirty to forty. That was… manageable. Maybe. The creatures weren’t physically imposing, and with their soft bodies, they should be easy to kill. If they breached the ruins, the lower ranked delvers that were defending them should be able to cleave through them easily.


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    It all depended on numbers, and how they dealt with the surprise. Oh how he wished that imperial construction didn’t resist intrusion from foreign magic. Things would be far less fraught if they were able to give the defenders more warning.

    Racing into the tunnel, Kaius looked the way the creatures had come — seeing endless pale bodies undulating past the bend, with more spreading through side passages.

    The closest larva clacked its mandibles, wriggling closer.

    Kaius scowled, stomped. His boot sank into its giving flesh. The creature popped as he felt its body give way. Ichor gushed, soaking through his boots.

    Magic swelled behind him — one of the sigils atop Ianmus’s staff swelling in potency.

    “Don’t,” Kaius replied, waving them forward. “There’s too many of them, no point in wasting our strength.”

    Porkchop nodded, “Gotta cut off the source — their largest danger is how swiftly the queen spawns when threatened. It’ll be impossible for us to stem the tide here; all we’ll do is give the queen more time to bunker down.”

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