As for why Jodie led, while he could also track the patrols with [Crowd Compass], it wasn’t exact. He’d know where they were and how they might move, but not the exact routes or slight deviations. And if an ant were feeling particularly bored and felt like doing something a little different from its friends he column’t track that. For things like that, it was better to use Jodie.

  So the three of them moved in the gaps between those paths.

  Hector’s sandals made almost no sound against stone, each step placed with as much care as possible. Behind him, Lincoln moved with surprisingly little crunching for someone as clumsy as he was.

  For several minutes, Jodie guided them through a maze of tunnels that all looked identical to Hector: rough stone walls, low ceilings, the occasional phosphorescent streak.

  Twice, they had to freeze, pressed flat against walls as a cluster of bugs skittered past mere feet away. Hector’s heart hammered against his ribs, breath held, watching mandibles the size of small daggers clack together as the creatures communicated. Thankfully, the insects didn’t notice them.

  A small blessing.

  They continued. Minutes blurring together. Hector didn’t know how long they’d been moving. They could only measure time, much like in all underground spaces, by the distance between encounters. All he had was the closing gap he tracked with the [Crowd Compass] to guide him.

  Eventually, they arrived.

  The tunnel they’d been following opened into the larger passage Hector recognised from before. He recognised the weight-sunken impression where the large beetle-like creature had been standing. Now empty. Hopefully, it was still working on getting to them in the collapsed tunnel. Or even better, fully trapped and maybe dead itself.

  Beyond that empty spot, the survivors’ blocked tunnel loomed.

  Stone and rubble still filled the path, piled high by, if Hector’s guess was right, a self-inflicted cave-in.

  “What do we do now?” Lincoln said, glancing over his shoulder toward where they’d come from.

  “We punch through, I guess,” Hector said. It was probably better if he did it. While [Surface Scraper] still glowed on Lincoln’s hands, it was unlikely that he had the delicacy to clear the path without causing another cave-in. Even if there was the slightest chance Lincoln could manage it, Hector wouldn’t risk it.

  Stepping past Lincoln, Hector’s sandals echoed off the stone as he moved to the wall. The sound felt too loud in the relative quiet. It rang in his ears as he reached a hand to the gap between stones and pulled carefully.

  Rock crumbled beneath his fingers.

  He pulled again. More stone fell away, cascading down in a small avalanche. Dust billowed up, coating his hands and settling on his mask. He kept pulling, widening the gap, working tentatively despite the urgency thrumming through his chest.

  Behind the rubble, voices erupted.

  “Something’s breaking through!”

  “Get ready!”

  “Weapons up—now!”

  Steel scraped against hilts as people on the other side drew swords. Their feet shuffled across stone, scrambling into position. Through the growing hole, Hector caught glimpses of movement. Panicked movement.

  They thought he was a bug.

  Of course they did. After all, they’d been in here for who knows how long, with those things working away trying to kill them.

  Hector spotted what looked like a keystone and pulled, chunks of rock tumbling away in larger pieces now. The gap widened into a proper opening. Light spilt through from the other side—not the hive’s ever-present bulb light, but the flickering orange of torches. It painted the falling stone in warm tones, each piece casting brief shadows as it clattered to the ground.

  “Wait!” someone shouted from beyond. “Wait, stop! Look at the hand!”

  “That’s not a claw!”

  “It’s—it’s a person!”

  The voices shifted from fear to confusion to desperate hope in the span of seconds.

  Hector kept pulling, saying nothing. Best to let them figure it out themselves. Less chance of someone panicking and doing something stupid with those swords he’d heard being drawn.

  The opening grew large enough to see through properly now.

  Beyond, a cluster of people stood in defensive formation, weapons raised, eyes wide beneath dirt-streaked faces. They stared at Hector’s very human hand as it gripped stone and pulled another chunk free.

  Then they stared at his mask as his head became visible through the gap.

  No one moved.

  No one spoke.

  They just stared.

  His gaze drifted around the small space that he’d revealed, and a slight frown creased his features.

  They looked better than expected.

  At the front, four fighters stood in a defensive cluster—two men, two women. All wore simple leather armour. Which was about what he expected. Points weren’t easy to come by after all. Strapped across each chest was a badge: green and black, with a horse emblazoned in the centre. The design was clean.

  A mercenary company that Hector didn’t recognise. But bold enough to waste points on badges.

  Even the Flower Banks hadn’t done that.

  Taking in their forms, the exhaustion on their features told a different story than their ready stances. Dark circles ringed eyes that darted quickly, scanning for threats that weren’t there.

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  The dark-haired woman on the left swayed slightly, catching herself with a visible effort. Beside her, the muscular man drooped at the shoulders despite his raised sword, the blade’s tip trembling just enough to be noticeable.

  “It’s alright,” Hector said, raising his hands and giving them a slight wave. “You don’t need to be so tense. Raquel has sent us to rescue you.”

  “He did?”

  A man with a scar stepped forward. It still looked relatively fresh, cutting across his cheek. Hector’s gaze drifted to the man’s short black hair that stuck up at odd angles, matted with grime. He moved with careful steps, like someone who’d got used to spending most of their time trying to conserve energy. “I had hoped that someone would come, but...” He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his companions. “Wasn’t too sure.”

  His sword lowered.

  Hector stepped forward, sandals crunching on stone as he moved through the gap. The space beyond opened wider than he’d expected—a natural chamber rather than a carved tunnel. Torchlight flickered against rough walls, casting unsteady shadows that made everything seem to shift.

  More people, who looked to be a mix of surviving mercenary groups, huddled deeper inside.

  His eyes tracked across them automatically, cataloguing. Some sat against walls, heads hung low. Others tended to the injured—bandages wrapped around wounds, makeshift splints bracing broken limbs. One figure lay completely still, face covered with what looked like someone’s tunic.

  Unconscious. Or dead.

  Then Hector’s gaze snagged on a face he recognised. A face that really shouldn’t have been here.

  Brick.

  The young man sat near the back, shoulders hunched as he worked on something in his lap. His hands moved with surprising steadiness, given the circumstances. He had the same nervous energy Hector remembered from their first meeting, when Adrian’s dump guards had been trying to rob him and his cart of trinkets a few doors down from the bakery.

  The trial realm truly was a gathering of the most random people. Probably what the old man had hoped for when he’d designed it.

  Hector made a mental note to check on how Brick was doing later. Right now, they needed to figure out how to get these people out of here.

  Quickly and safely.

  Turning back to Lincoln, Hector raised a hand and jabbed a finger towards the rocks still blocking most of the entrance. “Do you mind clearing the rest of this out? Jodie and I will keep watch while you do.”

  The ginger girl stepped forward, mask now on. Her voice muffled slightly through the wooden surface. “How’s it looking in there? Is anyone dead?”

  What sort of question was that?

  Hector blinked.

  Though it was blunt, yes. But also important to know. Not that it should be the first thing asked, but Jodie had never been one for social niceties.

  Blinking at her, he stepped away from the opening, giving Lincoln room to work.

  Brown light flared around the boy’s hands as he moved forward. Rock crumbled beneath his touch, chunks falling away with the same ease as before. Each piece tumbled down with dull thuds, scattering across the ground in growing piles.

  Lincoln worked methodically, widening the gap, his movements smooth despite the speed. Maybe he should have trusted him with the task from the start.

  As Lincoln cleared the rubble, inside the chamber, whispers erupted among the survivors.

  “Core Formation...”

  “Has to be.”

  “Did you see the mana wrapping his hands? Earth affinity, right?”

  “Raquel sent Core Formation experts?”

  The words carried a weight Hector was getting used to being handed, even if he didn’t deserve it. Reverence mixed with disbelief. These people had probably never even spoken to a cultivator of that rank before. Especially given the twang in their accent. Definitely outer-city commoners. Perhaps even a few slum dwellers.

  “Senior.” The scarred man turned to Hector with as much respect as his weary form would allow. He straightened slightly and clasped a weathered hand over his chest; it probably would have been a formal gesture if he’d had more energy. Not that Hector recognised it. No one in the slums used it. “Did you rescue anyone else before you came here?”

  Hector’s lips pulled into a frown. He turned to Jodie.

  The girl shrugged.

  Had Raquel asked them to save anyone else? Hector was pretty sure his [Crowd Compass] would have brought any other survivors to his attention. Though that depended on how expansive this place was. If the hive stretched for a kilometre or more, there was a very real chance of missing people.

  But given how quickly they’d found this group, and from what they’d gathered back at the fort, the Blackbridge Company had found the egg rather fast...

  The hive probably wasn’t that large.

  “No,” Hector said, turning back to the scarred man.

  The man’s face fell.

  To his side, a woman with a short bob of blonde hair stepped forward and stamped her foot against the stone. The sound echoed sharply through the chamber.

  “So you’re telling me those Blackbridge Company bastards actually made it out of here?” She spat on the floor, face twisting with disgust. Then seemed to catch herself, gaze snapping back to Hector. “Sorry, Senior. I mean no disrespect, of course.”

  Behind them, movement rippled through the survivors. People began shifting around, gathering scattered belongings. Someone pulled a pack from where they’d tossed it against the wall. Another checked the straps on what looked like a makeshift stretcher.

  The scarred man turned, voice carrying authority despite its exhaustion. “Be quick about it. We’re leaving as soon as the entrance is clear.”

  His gaze shifted to Brick, still hunched near the back. “Have you finished those talismans?”

  Hector blinked.

  Talismans? So that’s what he was working on, interesting to say the least.

  When he’d saved the boy from Adrian, Brick had been selling trinkets. Basic goods. He’d shown nothing that might have suggested that he had any affinity for talisman crafting. A skill that required both knowledge and precision, most people didn’t possess.

  Who would have thought?

  Brick nodded quickly, holding up a handful of paper slips covered in intricate markings. “Yes, sir. They’re ready if we need them.”

  “Good.” The scarred man’s expression remained neutral, though his shoulders relaxed fractionally. Then he glanced back at Hector and the others. “Though with Core Formation experts here to rescue us, we may not need them after all.”

  Should he correct them?

  Hector considered it. The misunderstanding brought them respect, kept people calm. But if things went badly—and things had a tendency to go badly—the survivors might panic when they realised their “invincible” rescuers were just talented Gravity Forging cultivators with uncommon abilities.

  Though...

  With the cultivation techniques available within the trial realm showing how backwards Middlec’s techniques were, he could probably claim Lincoln’s Talent was just an advanced technique they hadn’t encountered before. Depending on how much exposure mercenaries like these actually had to high-point items and manuals.

  His gaze tracked across their equipment again. Leather armour. The kind most mercenary groups could purchase fairly early if they pooled their points. Basic weapons. No visible talismans beyond what Brick had crafted.

  Had they even bought cultivation techniques yet? Or just focused on weapons and protection?

  Hard to say. Some groups prioritised immediate survival over long-term growth. After all, you couldn’t cultivate if you were dead.

  “Lincoln,” Jodie’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp with exasperation. “Can you stay on task, you idiot?”

  Hector turned. Lincoln had paused mid-dig, staring at the blonde woman with narrowed eyes.

  “Wait, I just realised what you said. What does this have to do with the Blackbridge Company?” Lincoln asked.

  “Keep digging,” Jodie snapped. “We don’t have all day. Those bugs will be back at any moment.”

  She was right.

  And Lincoln seemed to realise this too. The brown light around his hands seemingly intensified, and he turned back to the rocks with renewed urgency. Stone fell away faster now, chunks tumbling in rapid succession.

  Eyes moving from Lincoln, he frowned at the boy’s question; that was a point he’d overlooked just now. And so, Hector’s attention moved to the blonde woman. “I’m also curious; what does this have to do with the Blackbridge Company?”