Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast

Eryndor's final words hung in the air, the heat of them as real as the fading breath of the Netherbreed.

Voln felt the silence that followed- thick, heavy, suffocating- as his men shifted uneasily behind him. He exhaled slowly, trying to navigate between the dilemma of caution and duty.

He hesitated, weighing the risk of obeying orders against the survival of his men. He had to make a decision and eventually, he had decided.

"Separate into four lines," he ordered finally, his voice steady but hollow, "The first line. Two forward teams, shields high. We will make our way inside first and the others will follow after us."

The soldiers obeyed, immediately falling into motion. Armour scraped against armour as they reassembled, falling into place like weary ghosts.

Behind them, Etyndor and the vice commander remained at the same distance, their silhouettes frozen in place as they simply watched this, scorn and haughtiness not hidden in their eyes. The Netherbreed knelt low beside them, its molten runes flickering dimply, a sentinel bound to the dark.

Voln turned towards the commander one last time before heading towards the cave.

"If this goes wrong," he said, "you'd better have your prayers ready."

Eryndor's eyes flashed beneath his visor, a flicker of restrained fury breaking through his composure.

When his voice came, it was low and each word heavy with the weight of command, "If this goes wrong, Captain, there won't be enough left of you for prayer."

With a sharp nod, Voln raised his hand and moved toward the cave.

"Captain, we await for you to take the first step," one of the soldiers from the first line approached Voln, saluting as he stopped right in front of him.

Voln nodded, "Good. Follow me."

Soon, in front of them, the cave mouth loomed, jagged and black, exhaling cold air that smelled faintly of earth and old blood.

"Advance," Voln commanded.

The first line stepped forward cautiously, the cave entrance swallowing them one by one.

Boots sank into the slick ground, each step stirring thin streams of water that ran toward the dark.

Voln raised his hand for quiet, the motion small but commanding.

"Keep formation," he whispered, "We move slow and we move as one."

The group advanced through the twisting passage that was the cave entrance- walls narrowing, then opening again into low, hollow spaces that devoured sound. The smell of old earth and rust clung to everything. Drips from the ceiling struck their helms.

Slowly making his way in, Voln brought out a torch and lit it. Its flame flickered, light licking across the uneven walls. Strange marks, faded by age, cut across the rock alongside symbols he couldn't recognise. Some of the markings even looked burned in rather than carved.

The soldiers' silhouettes stretched long behind them, ghostlike in the dim light. Someone coughed softly as they made their way through the passage; someone else muttered a prayer.

When they reached a shallow bend, the air shifted. A low draft brushed their faces, cold and sour. Voln stopped.

"That's not natural airflow," he murmured, "There's an opening deeper in."

"Should we proceed, sir?" one of the men asked.

Voln nodded, "Carefully."

They pressed on and the ground sloped downward, and the echo of their movements grew hollow- as if another set of footsteps followed a beat behind.

Voln turned his head once, half expecting to see movement, but there was nothing- only the faint orange glimmer receding from the entrance far behind.

The line continued moving deeper still, their torches reduced to trembling halos in the suffocating dark.

When they emerged on the other side, the space widened abruptly into a low cavern, its floor strewn with broken tools and rusted fragments- relics of some forgotten excavation.

Voln paused to study them as he waited for the other soldiers to file through.

"Old miners," he muttered, "Or maybe grave robbers."

The sound of breathing soon filled the chamber as the soldiers began to pool in. The light of the torch caught the glint of a shattered helmet half-buried in the dirt. No one spoke.

Then a faint whisper of air touched Voln's cheek- a cold draft that slid from deeper within the earth. He turned towards it instinctively. The passage ahead looked smaller still, the blackness absolute.

He thought he heard something faint beyond it, like a chain being dragged over stone, but when he strained to listen, there was nothing.

"Careful," he murmured, "The walls could be rigged."

A soldier brushed his shoulder against the wall, and dust cascaded from above. He froze, but nothing happened.. The group exhaled together, tension easing for a heartbeat.

Men continued to file into the cave in an unbroken stream, their armour brushing the narrow walls as they moved deeper. Soon, nearly all of Voln's force had crossed the threshold, swallowed by the cave's gullet, leaving only a small handful still to enter the cave.

As Voln was still observing the chamber and analysising, a faint glint caught his eye- something metallic glimmering in the soil near the far side of the tunnel.

"Wait," he said, raising his hand, "Hold there-"

One of the soldiers, a lean man with a scar down his cheek, stepped forward, "I'll take a look, Captain."

He crouched low, torch angled forward, shadows stretching long behind him as he moved closer. The air seemed to thicken with every step he took.

The metallic glint flickered again- just beneath the dirt. The soldier reached for it carefully, fingers brushing away the soil.

"Easy," Voln warned, voice low but firm, "Don't touch it yet."

The soldier closest to it leaned forward, squinting, "It's just a piece of armour, sir. Old-"

The word never finished.

A spark burst from the dirt. A sudden roar followed.

The tunnel erupted with light as a blinding flash filled the tunnel. The sound of the explosion hit first- a thunderclap of air and pressure that ripped through their formation.

The walls trembled violently, dust bursting outward in choking clouds.

Men shouted, disoriented, as the ground beneath them heaved like a living thing.

"Back! Get Back!" Voln's order was barely audible over the crashing stone. The shockwave tore past, toppling torches and plunging the passage into chaos.

A second, deeper detonation followed, echoing from somewhere above, shaking loose a rain of debris.

Chunks of the ceiling broke free, slamming into the floor with sickening force. Sparks flared a bit of metal struck rock, the confined space roaring like a drum. And the sound then rolled back toward the mouth where the last men outside turned in alarm.

Voln spun, coughing to the dust as he hurriedly shouted orders to the soldiers.

"Get away from the entrance! Out! Get Out!" he shouted. But only fragments of his command carried through the deafening noise before the earth itself seemed to split.

The entrance shuddered violently, the entire mountain seeming to inhale before exhaling destruction. A groan deep within the earth rose into a deafening roar as great slabs of stone peeled away from the walls, crashing down in cascading waves.

The mouth of the cave split open like a wound, spitting dust and flame.

The last line of soldiers screamed as the rock face caved, swallowing them in an instant. Their cries were cut short beneath the thunder of collapsing stone. Helmets clanged, shields split, and one man's torch spiraled through the air before being snuffed out in the debris.

A storm of grit and ash surged through the tunnel, blinding everyone caught within.

The choking haze turned every breath into ash. Stone fragments sliced across armor and skin as shockwaves rippled through the mountain, shaking the earth like the growl of a living god. The tunnel screamed around them, the air thick with dust and despair.

"Captain!" a voice cut through the chaos, ragged and terrified.

Voln blinked through the grit, vision swimming. He was on one knee, his shoulder aflame with pain where the boulder had clipped him. His torch was gone. The only light left came from the fires outside, leaking in through a slit of the collapsing entrance.

He looked up. The last shard of light was closing.

For a heartbeat, it framed the Netherbreed's face—motionless, its eyes two molten suns glaring through the falling dust. Beyond it, Eryndor and his vice sat unmoving, silhouettes against the inferno, silent and still as statues carved from betrayal.

Then, the light vanished.

A thunderous crack tore through the tunnel as the final slabs gave way.

Men screamed as tons of rock cascaded down, burying entire sections of the company. Shields splintered, limbs vanished under stone, and a chorus of muffled cries bled through the dust.

The cave's death song echoed endlessly, a dirge of grinding earth and human anguish.

Voln staggered back, chest heaving, the air gone from his lungs. The shockwave hit like a giant's hand, slamming him against the wall. He slid down, ears ringing, vision spotted with white.

"Captain!" the same voice from earlier called out—hoarse, breaking. "We're—trapped!"

Voln turned toward the sound, his eyes adjusting to the faint, shifting glow of embers. Through the smoke, he saw shadows moving—men clawing with bloodied hands at the rubble, trying to free the buried.

Some cried out names; others prayed.

A helmet lay split in two, still steaming in the dust.

He stumbled forward, grabbing a jagged stone and forcing his trembling arms to dig.

"Help them! Dig!" he barked, though his voice cracked under the weight of it.

The men obeyed, coughing, scraping, fighting the mountain with bare hands.