Lassim closed his eyes, trying to will his mind to quiet itself, but it was no use. Every time he tried to relax, another thought surged to the surface, dragging him back into his unease through the night. Everyone seemed just a bit too eager…
The desert wind blew gently across the camp, stirring the edges of his cloak as he had sat against the pile of logs for the various campfires. Lassim’s gaze and spirit sense drifted toward the dark outline of the central tent, where Selira had disappeared after giving the rogues their orders. He could still feel the sting of her gaze from earlier, a flicker of suspicion she hadn’t voiced aloud.
She was watching him, even if she hadn’t said anything outright.
Vaela had played along, but it had been obvious to those who cared to watch that Lassim wasn’t as efficient as he should have been. If Selira hadn’t been so focused on the success of the mission, she might’ve pressed him harder.
But with the promise of Kierlan’s reward looming and why the supplies were so important to the hidden leader, it seemed she had decided to hold off on whatever questions she had—at least for now.
He sighed, leaning heavier against the rough wall of logs behind him. Who was Kierlan and what was he planning to give them? More importantly, what had drawn these rogue cultivators—each of whom were runaways or wanted men and women that typically lived by their own code and trusted no one—to follow a leader like this?
Whatever it was, it had to be significant.
The next morning broke with an unsettling calm. The sun rose on the horizon line above the dunes, the first rays illuminating the sky and subsequently the camp as the rogues stirred and prepared for the day ahead.
Lassim kept to himself, observing the others as they readied themselves, their excitement barely contained as they gathered and stored away all of the supplies they had gathered into neatly organized, yet obviously stolen, crates.
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Selira was already up, standing near the entrance of the central tent, her arms crossed as she surveyed the camp’s efforts. Her expression was unreadable, but Lassim could sense the tension in her posture. She wasn’t immune to the anticipation that filled the air, though she masked it better than the others.
Without a word, she gestured for the rogues to gather. They moved quickly, falling into line without any grumbling or hesitation. Lassim followed, staying toward the back of the group.
Selira didn’t bother with any grand speeches. She simply turned and entered the central tent, her steps brisk and purposeful. The others followed in silence, to Lassim’s surprise, wondering how they’d fit everyone in the group; nearly 50 Spirit Warriors in total.
When he entered, his eyes were on the hatch in the floor of the tent’s center where the desk Selira previously sat. He hadn’t noticed it the last time he was inside the tent when had met with Selira, but it must’ve been further hidden by some sort of illusion enchantment array of some kid. With it disabled, the hatch stood exposed, a simple metal handle marking the entrance to whatever lay beneath.
Continuing to say nothing and give zero explanation, Selira reached down and pulled the hatch open, revealing a narrow, spiraling staircase descending into the earth. A majority of the rogues that seemed to have experienced going down this hatch before didn’t hesitate, while the newcomers or recent additions to the group were obviously hesitating.
Despite that, one by one, they filed down into the depths. Lassim waited until most of the others had gone before stepping forward, taking one last look at the interior of the tent before beginning his own descent.
The staircase was cramped and steep, the stone walls rough against his fingertips as he braced himself with each step. There was no sound except for the soft scuff of boots against the stone, the air cool and still. No one spoke as they descended, the usual banter absent as they focused on the task ahead.
As Lassim made his way down, he couldn’t help but notice the walls. They were uneven, almost clawed out in places, as though the tunnel had been dug by something more animal than human. His suspicions grew with every step, but he kept his thoughts to himself, his face a mask of indifference.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity amongst the dusty darkness, they reached the bottom of the staircase, emerging into a wide, dimly lit corridor. Torches flickered along the walls, lit by one of the fire elemental rogue cultivators that Lassim could see waving a had up ahead and lighting the rows of torches at the head of the group.
The torch flames cast long, flickering shadows that danced across the rough tunnel that seemed to have been carved with some sort of claws instead of an earth elemental cultivator.
Thankfully the air was cooler down here, but not uncomfortably so. It was the kind of place that felt similar to the other time he was underground just before the Water Goddess’ God Trial. Like it had been forgotten by the world above, hidden away beneath the desert sands.
Lassim knew the Southern continent had quite a few underground areas, but this one was more of a creature-made tunnel system instead of the caves he would’ve expected.
Selira led the front of the group deeper into the earth without hesitation as the tunnel began to slant downwards. The others followed in the maintained silence, their eyes fixed ahead.
Lassim took his time, hanging back slightly as he further observed the corridor; hoping to discover something that could give clues at all. It was clear that this wasn’t some hastily constructed hideout based on how long they’d continued walking and the side tunnels they passed—it was a large network, likely stretching far deeper and wider than they had yet seen.
And the walls, those uneven, clawed-out walls, only added to a now growing unease.
Everyone in the group was a human… Right?
As they walked deeper downwards, the air began to change. It wasn’t heavier or more oppressive or even stale like one might expect, but there was something else—a faint scent of decay, of something long buried. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it lingered just enough to catch Lassim’s attention. The others didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care or knew about it.
Instead, they were all too focused on what awaited them at the end of this tunnel.
After several more minutes, the corridor opened up into a larger chamber, roughly circular in shape, with uneven walls that seemed to have similarly been carved out by hand—or claw.
The ceiling was low, barely high enough for a tall man to stand upright, and the ground was littered with bits of debris, small animal bones in the corners, and rubble. Vaela would probably barely fit or have to slightly bend her knees to stay inside this room.
In the center of the chamber stood a figure, large and hunched, its outline barely visible in the dim light of the torches.
Lassim’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes and spirit sense "looked" ahead and he saw the figure clearly for the first time.
The creature standing before them was like nothing Lassim had ever seen. He’d met spider-folk, mermaids, nagas, sirens, the Jakool Za Za and even heard tales of the elves and dwarves from his childhood storybooks his mother would read to him.
Yet, this was one that took a moment to register exactly what it was. Yet, when he realized… his wariness increased to the maximum as he felt the need to prepare to fight at the slightest notion of things going wrong.
The creature was a massive, humanoid rat, easily seven feet tall if not for the hunch in his back. His body was covered in thick, matted fur, black and streaked with gray, his red eyes gleaming in the torchlight. His snout was long and narrow, his jagged, but sharp yellow teeth bared in what could only be described as a twisted smile.
His hands, clawed and gnarled, gripped a heavy staff made of twisted wood, its surface scarred and worn from years of use.
The creature’s presence was overwhelming. He radiated power, not in the way of a cultivator who had mastered their energy, but in the way of a beast blessed by one of the gods that had clawed its way to dominance through sheer force of will and a long life.
Beasts could reach such a pinnacle if they overcame the madness that afflicted the simpler beast races, and that’s exactly what this kind of creature was.
A race that, like the other humanoid beasts Lassim had met, had a progenitor that was more intelligent than its kind and cultivated its power. Yet, it was a newer race to the world of Nexaria, and still very much maintained its beast-like nature. There was a wildness in his eyes, barely restrained, and it was clear that this creature was not someone to be trifled with.
He was a Nevaks—one of the legendary rat-like creatures that lived deep beneath the earth, said to have developed an unnatural level of superior cunning only equal to how ferocious and vicious they were. He had heard the tales, of course, but seeing a real one in front of him was firm proof of the creatures descended from or helped out of their madness by the Great-Horned Rat.
The rogues filed into the chamber, their steps sure and confident, but Lassim hesitated at the threshold. He hadn’t expected this.
The creature’s gaze swept over the group, and for a moment, it landed on Lassim. The Nevaks’ red eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing something out of place, but the moment passed quickly. It turned his attention back to the group as a whole, his rat tooth mouth widening into was could barely be considered a passable "smile" as much as he spoke.
"Welcome to all of the newcomers today, for I am Kierlan, your pal and leader," It rasped, his voice a strange mix of growls and squeals, yet disturbingly clear and in the common tongue. "You’ve done well, my friends. Very well. The supplies you’ve gathered will be put to good use for our goal."
The rogues stood silently, their eyes fixed on Kierlan, waiting for what came next. Lassim kept his head down, his mind racing. Kierlan’s presence was unsettling, but more than that, it was the realization that this creature had somehow managed to unite a group of rogue cultivators that left Lassim deeply unsettled. What kind of power had he promised them?
Kierlan’s gaze shifted again, his "smile" further widening as he continued.
"You’ve proven your loyalty," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "And now, it’s time for your reward. The power I promised you—the Horned-Rat’s Favor."
At the mention of the name, Lassim felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t know what the Horned-Rat’s Favor was, but he knew better than to trust anything offered by a creature like Kierlan. The other rogues, however, seemed eager, their eyes lighting up with anticipation. Whatever this reward was, they had been waiting for it.
Kierlan tapped his staff against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the chamber.
From behind him, two smaller Nevaks stepped forward, each carrying a large, dark crate. They placed the crates at Kierlan’s feet and opened them.