Taz had been running for three straight minutes—vaulting across ledges, cutting through collapsing stone, breathing hard as the air grew heavier.
The others were gone.
Not dead. Not lost. Just too far to reach.
And the Leapers hadn't stopped coming.
They'd figured out he was alone.
Five of them now—closing in. Surrounding him like wolves around a bleeding deer. He crouched low on the narrow ledge, cracked sword in hand, eyes scanning every motion.
He was bleeding from a gash on his shoulder. One pant leg was torn, and his right hand trembled with fatigue.
But he was smiling.
Not wild. Not cocky.
Focused.
The first one leapt.
Taz didn't backpedal. He stepped forward.
The blade flicked up and met the Leaper's outstretched claw with a clean diagonal slash. He twisted mid-swing, turned the cut into a fluid roll, and avoided the counter-strike from the second beast as it dove from the ceiling.
His blade spun behind his back—caught in his off-hand—and came down hard on its spine.
[Trait Activated: Blade Assimilation – C Rank]Form Memorized: Spinal Counter ArcMomentum Adjustment Efficiency +6%
He didn't need to think.
His body remembered.
The third came from below—climbing like a spider.
Taz didn't see it until it was already mid-lunge.
He pivoted instinctively, brought the sword back across his chest, and braced.
The Leaper collided, claws raking against the flat of the blade, forcing him back two steps.
The ledge cracked beneath his feet.
Taz exhaled through his teeth.
Then used the momentum to launch himself forward—shoulder-first into the creature's chest—and flung it over the edge.
Two left.
One behind him.
One above.
He counted the seconds.
One.
The shadow moved overhead.
Two.
He ducked low, turned the blade inward.
Three.
Steel met flesh in a rising arc, and the fourth Leaper howled as it was cut cleanly across the jaw.
He didn't stop there.
He dropped to a knee, pivoted, and slid under the final monster's leap—using the downward slope of the stone as a ramp.
As it passed overhead, he flipped the sword into a reverse grip and stabbed upward.
The blade caught under its chin and snapped clean through.
Silence.
Just for a second.
His heart was pounding. His arms burned.
But they were all down.
All five.
Taz wiped sweat and blood from his brow and took two steps forward toward the next ledge.
That's when the stone gave out.
It didn't crumble loud.
No dramatic snap.
Just a faint shift—and then his footing disappeared.
He fell.
The light above him shrank fast, faster than it should've.
He didn't scream.
He twisted mid-air, trying to angle his body, slow his fall, catch anything.
But the shaft was empty. Slick. Endless.
And then there was only black.
Far above, the rest of the group kept moving.
They hadn't seen it.
But they felt something.
Katie stopped walking.
Conner did too.
Joey glanced back. "What?"
"I don't know," Katie said. Her voice was low. "Taz should've caught up by now."
"He might've found another path," Luc offered. "There were breakaways everywhere."
"Maybe," Neive murmured. "But…"
They all stood still for a moment.
Joey clenched his jaw. "He's fine. He's probably just trying to make a dramatic entrance."
Conner didn't reply.
He just kept walking forward—silently adding one more worry to the list in his head.
The tunnel walls narrowed as they descended, the pulse of mana faint but growing stronger. Every few meters, the stone shimmered—etched patterns blinking to life in the walls as they passed.
Lines. Arcs. Curves.
They weren't random.
They were movements.
Katie slowed first. She reached out and traced her fingertips along a faint glyph—its glow gentle, warm against her skin. "These aren't like System glyphs," she said. "They don't hum the same."
Neive narrowed her eyes. "It's like... they're remembering, not calculating."
Joey grunted, squinting at a full-body stance diagram. "Are these... fighting forms?"
"They are," Conner said, already scanning ahead. "Stances. Transitions. Blade work."
Luc exhaled softly. "This whole hallway is a martial artist's notebook."
The tunnel opened into a small chamber. It wasn't grand—more like a bunker, or a hermit's study long abandoned. In the center sat a pedestal carved from smooth black stone, dust layered thick across the top. To the left and right, the walls were lined with dozens of smaller glyphs—each glowing faintly with movement and pressure.
Conner stepped forward. "We're standing in someone's memory."
He brushed the dust aside.
A recessed slot clicked open beneath his hand, revealing a scroll bound in cracked leather and sealed in deep red wax.
Katie leaned over, squinting. "That's... hand-written. Actual ink and fibre."
"No System integration," Neive added. "No code. No mana layer. Just... human."
Conner opened it carefully.
The scroll unravelled to reveal a series of tightly drawn forms. Sword stances, foot placement, grip corrections—notes written in sharp, deliberate script.
At the bottom: not a name. A title.
The Last Edgekeeper
Joey stared for a long moment before muttering, "What the hell's an Edgekeeper?"
Katie turned toward the glyphs on the wall. "Whatever they were... this whole room's built on their style."
Conner nodded. "And it's still here. Preserved. Not to be used. To be remembered."
Luc looked toward the entrance they came from. "You think there's more like this? These legacy rooms?"
"There has to be," Conner replied. "But this one feels personal. Like it's tied to something that shouldn't be forgotten."
Neive's gaze lingered on the script. "Or someone."
Below.
Taz's eyes cracked open in the dark.
Everything hurt.
His ribs. His ankle. The back of his head.
But he was alive.
And there was something pulsing nearby—slow, steady.
Calling.
The sword embedded in the stone ahead of him wasn't glowing like System loot.
It was alive.
Just barely.
And it was waiting.
Back in the chamber, the scroll in Conner's hand trembled once.
A single pulse of mana.
The glyphs on the wall flickered—then adjusted. As if they were responding to something not in the room.
Katie froze. "Did you feel that?"
Joey turned slowly. "I did. But it didn't come from here."
Luc nodded toward the rear wall. "It came from below."
Neive said nothing—but her summon was already on edge, ears pinned, staring at the stone beneath their feet.
Conner tightened his grip on the scroll. "Something's happening. Someone's reaching back."
And somewhere in the dark, far beneath the System's reach—
Taz reached out, and gripped the sword.