"Alon—"

Where…

"Alonso."

I blink.

That voice…

"Houston?"

"Take it easy. Just lie back."

I glance around. Wooden walls. A faint, warm glow. My back rests against something soft. There's a window—slightly open—and a gentle breeze stirs the curtain.

I raise a hand to my head.

Everything feels… slow. Fuzzy.

What just—

Images flicker.

The eyes. The blood. The scythe-blade.

Ixchel's head.

Tohol's last stand.

The fight.

The ridge.

The fall.

A jolt runs through me. My chest tightens—panic pressing close—but I swallow it down.

I turn to face him.

I stare at Houston.

"…How's my real body?"

Houston exhales slowly.

"The only good news I can give you is that you're not dead… yet."

Not dead.

So I survived?

That's good.

...Isn't it?

But—

"What about the others? Did Xam—"

Houston shakes his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know? What do you mean…?" A cold shiver runs down my spine. "Houston… where am I?"

Houston takes a deep breath. "When you were flung off the ridge, your body crashed through a slope of fractured limestone and loose shale. You dropped fast. Fast and deep. A secondary tremor caused by the impact triggered a full collapse."

A collapse? Landslide?

He continues. "The ridge above you gave way. Tons of rock, dirt, debris—all of it came down. The shaft you fell into sealed shut almost instantly."

I feel a chill crawl up the back of my neck.

"You're over two hundred meters underground, Alonso. Crushed between a collapsed fault line and a closed cavity. Every surface around you is compressed. Your body is barely held together, and there's no oxygen supply."

Two… two hundred? What the…

My hand trembles slightly. My eyes widen.

"So… I'll die anyway?"

Houston remains silent for a moment. "Your current body is in full metabolic suspension. I'm supplying your brain cells using the Pillar to keep you—and me—functioning, and help Darius recover from Dual Overdrive. In this state, you, we, can survive for several weeks. Perhaps even a month."

"A month? So… can we be rescued in that time? Can we send a signal?"

Houston's eyes lower. He slowly shakes his head.

"I'll be brutally honest, Alonso… given our situation, chances are we die here. Even if the Ajnal realize you weren't torn apart by the Xok'al and somehow figure out you're under the collapse, there's no feasible rescue. No one's digging blindly through two hundred meters of compacted earth and shattered basalt."

He pauses.

"As for a signal—it's impossible. We can't send anything through that much interference. Especially not with metallic layers between us and the surface. Even covering fifty meters in these conditions would require our strongest all-out pulse. More than that… is impossible."

I close my eyes.

"So that's it? This is just some extra time I got before the end?"

Houston doesn't respond right away. I hear him inhale softly.

"I'm working on a solution. There's something strange about how deep you fell. It's way too deep to be normal. A landslide doesn't just drop someone vertically that far unless there's a preexisting structure."

I open my eyes again, slowly.

"A sinkhole?"

"More like a vertical fault line. Maybe widened by erosion. As far as my knowledge goes, these shafts typically intersect with natural cave networks. In this region, that could mean limestone hollows, old volcanic veins, maybe even sections of ancient mining systems."

I sit up a little more.

"So…?"

"So if we are, somehow, close to one—and if by some stroke of luck we trigger a controlled collapse in the right direction with the remaining energy—we might connect to a deeper fault branch. Or a thermal river. Maybe even an oxygen pocket."

I exhale slowly.

"And if we're wrong?"

"Then we die faster."

I see…

I exhale, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. It has that old-style woodwork—like something from a country house. Familiar. Warm. The kind of ceiling that belongs to a room where nothing ever goes wrong.

"So we have no idea about the others…"

"No."

"I hope Xam made it out… if anyone could've pulled it off, it's her."

Slowly, memories begin to resurface—little fragments clinging to the edges of the quiet.

Kahul's grim, focused stare. Kinam's smirk whenever he cracked a joke no one asked for. Tziib's bashful expression when we teased him about that girl from Squad Four.

I hope some of them managed to survive… somehow…

And Tohol…

It was my first time with him. And the last.

Even in that short time—

Even if I never knew him before—

He stood his ground. He gave everything. No hesitation. No fear.

He died to give us a chance.

Even if it was just once…

I'll remember you, Captain.

I lower my gaze and stare at my clenched fist.

A cold pressure snakes down my spine as the images return, sharp and jagged.

Ixchel's head—detached mid-turn.

The glint of the bloodied scythe.

The way those bastards looked at me. Their eyes. Cold. Mocking.

They didn't even see me as a threat. Just something to play with before crushing.

All my training. All that strength I was proud of…

It meant jack shit.

CRACK!

I look down.

The chair arm is cracked—wood splintered under my grip.

I exhale.

I lost.

I was weaker.

Fuck. I didn't even try to win. I ran. Like a coward.

And still—I ended up in a fight.

Still got thrashed.

Disgraced. Like nothing.

I raise my hand.

It still trembles at the thought.

Those elite Xok'al… they're strong. Ridiculously strong.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

If I fight them again… would I even be able to…

I close my eyes.

Forget about fighting again… right now—

I take a deep breath.

Focus.

I open my eyes.

"So the likelihood of a rescue is lower than that of us managing to gamble a way out?"

"Unless the Ajnal have means far beyond what I'm aware of, yes. Rescue at this depth isn't something I'd bet on."

"Okay. So what do we need? If we're going to make this last burst, we have to wait for Darius to recover, right? What's the condition of my body?"

"Your body?" Houston sighs. "Where to start? Left clavicle fractured in two places. Right shoulder dislocated. Both wrists shattered. Femur—spiral fracture. Pelvis cracked along the posterior ring. Ten ribs broken—three punctured in. Internal bleeding in—"

"Got it," I interrupt. "So what's the plan? How much of that do we need to fix? Do we have the energy for it?"

Houston nods slowly. "You were well fed not long before the fight. Your body holds deep reserves we can still tap into for regeneration. But rebuilding everything would be too costly, so I'll focus only on what's absolutely necessary."

He pauses.

"For now, getting Darius back is the priority," Houston says. "That'll take a little over seven hours. After that, I'll use the remaining time to stabilize your body as much as possible. Estimate's about fourteen hours more."

I nod slowly.

"Twenty-one hours…"

I pause.

"…How can I help?"

Houston studies me for a moment.

"You can't train the Body or Pillar Path. Not in any practical way. But theory work? That's still on the table."

"Anything specific I should focus on?"

"If we're gambling on an escape route, we'll need every node fully charged. The output has to be purely kinetic—no EM. If you can optimize release timing, pulse vectoring, energy distribution under constrained flow… anything like that might give us an edge."

"Got it."

"I'll be busy micromanaging your body and recovery," he adds. "So it's all up to you."

I push myself up from the chair and stretch—not because I need to, but out of habit.

The window's open. That fake, too-perfect blue sky beyond.

Still. Quiet. Plain.

I stare at it for a long moment.

Then close my eyes—and teleport away to the open fields.

"To all warriors, gather at the main square."

Imani's eyes blinked. He had just gotten into bed.

This call...? Odd.

But he noticed the rest of his squad already on the move, strapping on gear.

An emergency? What happened?

He slid on his new armor—finished just hours earlier by his own hands—and strapped the last binding with a practiced pull. The reinforced shield slung over his back. The hammer gripped in hand.

The vice-leader barked formation, and they moved. Boots striking packed soil.

The base wasn't large. Everyone knew everyone. They passed a few runners still sliding on boots. Others from different squads were already forming ranks near the central square.

Imani spotted his smith mentor among them, lips tight.

Then Arjun arrived with his squad.

They locked eyes.

"Any ideas?" Arjun asked.

Imani shook his head. "No."

So they waited.

Chahak, the acting head of the outpost and a senior Lord of Sparks, stepped forward once every squad had taken formation in the central square.

His cloak, marked with obsidian rings and the jaguar sigil of the southern perimeter, rustled faintly in the wind.

He raised his voice.

"Ixchel Chimalmat, and Tohol Pakal's squads… have been killed."

The words struck like a stone dropped in still water.

Imani's chest tightened.

Tohol's squad…?

Wait—

Alonso!?

A cold spike ran down his spine.

"We received a long-range pulse signal," Chahak continued. "Captain Tohol's final transmission. I will repeat it exactly as it was received."

A breath.

"Ixchel is dead. There were three elite-class Xok'al. I will kill one. The other two will kill me. May Kukulkan shield the rest of my warriors. I've ordered full retreat. Current location: Southern fork of Route 15, near marker 7.4. This will be my last transmission."

Gasps and murmurs broke out in the back ranks.

Imani's fist clenched.

Chahak raised his arm. Silence returned.

"I have contacted the Black Serpent stronghold. Reinforcements are en route. Once they arrive, we will strike. We will burn their nests and stain the jungle floor red in honor of our fallen brothers."

Once they arrive? How long is that gonna take?

No.

Imani stepped forward.

Heads turned. His own vice-leader looked his way, lips parting in shock. Arjun's expression darkened, jaw tight as he gave Imani a subtle shake of the head.

But Imani didn't stop.

He stepped fully out of formation and dropped to one knee.

"Permission to speak, Lord Chahak."

Chahak's eyes narrowed, but he gave a slow nod.

Imani raised his head.

"Sir, shouldn't we focus on immediately searching for any survivors? We still have five squads at the base. We only need to send two to hunt the remaining two elite Xok'al. Three if we want to be cautious. Why do we need to wait for reinforcements?"

Silence spread again.

The weight in the air grew heavier, thick with tension. But Imani didn't flinch. He stood straight, voice clear, his intent unshaken.

Chahak didn't blink.

"The base must be guarded by at least four squads at all times. That is protocol. That is survival. We don't have the numbers to send more than one squad."

A pulse hit him sharply.

"Return to formation, Imani."

It was his captain.

Imani's jaw tensed. His hands curled into fists.

Dammit.

"But our brothers… isn't their life worth more than the rules?"

A sudden weight pressed against his mind and armor.

"Enough."

Imani staggered half a step, gritting his teeth against the pressure.

Across the square, heads turned slightly—no one spoke, but everyone felt it. The breach in discipline.

Chahak's gaze sharpened.

"Discipline keeps the base standing," he said, voice cool. "If we send more men now and another pack of Xok'al strikes from the east or breaches from the north—we fall. And if the outpost falls, so do the villages under our protection. We've been baited before. We've lost men. We've lost children."

His voice lowered—firmer, heavier.

"We learned from that. We forged rules. Rules to protect us."

He stepped forward, one hand tightening around his obsidian spear.

"We do not forget the fallen. But the living are our duty."

Imani's throat tightened.

His arms trembled.

He closed his eyes, forcing the fury down into his chest.

He lowered his head, just for a moment—then lifted it again.

"Then let me go."

His voice broke the silence.

Gasps. A few muffled exhales. Arjun shifted his stance.

"If sending a squad breaks protocol, then don't send one," he said, eyes locked on Chahak. "Let me go alone."

His own captain pulsed again—stronger this time, a burst of EM force that slammed into Imani's thoughts like a hammer.

He winced. A spike of nausea flared behind his eyes. His legs buckled for a second—but he held his ground.

He gritted his teeth.

Chahak stepped forward, just one step. A high-frequency pulse radiated from him.

Imani felt his knees tremble under it.

"You think this is bravery?" Chahak said, voice low. "You think this is honour?"

Imani clenched his jaw tighter, barely breathing.

"This is pride," Chahak continued. "And pride gets warriors killed."

"I understand," Imani rasped. "But if there's even the smallest chance my brother survived—"

"That's not your call."

"It is my call!" Imani snapped, louder now, the fire breaking through. "He saved my life. I owe him more than silence. If he's dead, I'll carry his memory back myself. And if he's alive—I'll tear through the jungle until I reach him. I don't need permission to honor what he gave me. I don't need orders to act like a brother."

The pulse hit harder now.

His hands shook. His vision blurred for half a second.

Still, he didn't step back.

He breathed through the pressure.

"If you won't let anyone go… then let me go as a man," Imani said, quieter now. "Not as Ajnal."

The square went still.

Utterly still.

Even the jungle beyond the outer palisade seemed to fall silent.

Chahak stared at him.

Then slowly—very slowly—lowered his spear.

"You may go," Chahak said. "But not as one of us."

"Imani, don't!" Arjun's voice rang in his mind.

"Stay out of this, Arjun," Imani snapped. "If you're not coming, then don't get in my way."

"Imani… if there was even a chance Alonso's still alive—"

"There is a chance."

"He was against two elites, Imani. Two. Each one on par with a Lord of Sparks—"

Imani stood tall. The pressure pressing on him finally eased.

He turned toward his smithing master and gave a deep bow.

"Thank you for your guidance, Master. I apologize for not being a better student. I'll leave my armor and hammer behind and—"

"Take them," the elder interrupted firmly.

Imani froze. Then nodded once.

That was all the farewell he could give.

Suddenly, Arjun stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"Imani… forget the past. Alonso's my brother-in-arms too. His existence matters. He was vital to our climb, to all of us making it through this Tower." His voice trembled. "But by the time you reach him, more than an hour will have passed. You know what that means."

Arjun's grip tightened.

"Going alone… you'll only die too. We can't afford another loss. We—"

"If I don't return in two days," Imani cut him off, "assume I'm dead."

He turned, yanking his arm free.

"What about your children!?"

Imani stopped.

"We can't afford to fall, Imani," Arjun said, voice lower now. "I have a daughter waiting for me back home. And for her… I'll do anything. Anything. I'll give up pride, honor, duty. I'll spit on all of it if it means she will be fine."

Imani didn't turn.

"We have to climb," Arjun said, barely holding himself together. "We have to pass this fucking Tower. We can't afford to lose anyone else."

Silence.

"Alonso is dead, Imani. Don't throw your life away too. Think of your wife. Think of your sons waiting back home."

Another pause.

"Remember Lukas's words. Honor? Pride? That means fucking nothing in front of those we care about."

Arjun took a breath, steadying himself.

"I respected Alonso. I'd made peace with him. I was ready to fight beside him to the end. But he's gone. And now we have to protect what's left. So please, Imani. Please…"

Imani didn't move.

Seconds passed in silence.

And then—

Imani stepped forward.

And he walked away.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.