Hope, fragile but persistent, propelled them forward. Following the faint but distinct Water/Earth Echo signature required careful navigation through the final stretches of the ancient foundation tunnels. The architecture continued its slow transition, ancient brickwork giving way more frequently to sections reinforced with corroded iron supports and passages lined with more recognizably modern, though still decrepit, sewer pipes. The air grew heavier, carrying the familiar, rank perfume of Meridian's main sewer system – a smell Rhys had never thought he'd welcome.
The signature grew stronger, clearer, guiding them towards a crumbling side passage choked with debris. Pushing through the loose rubble, they emerged, blinking in the relative dimness, into a large, familiar sewer junction. Water dripped rhythmically from the vaulted ceiling onto smooth grey stones covered in silvery, faintly glowing algae. The clean, stable Aetherium resonance washed over Rhys like a homecoming. They were back at his hidden cultivation spot.
The relief was immediate, profound, but instantly tempered by years of ingrained caution. This wasn't the sanctuary they had left. The Undercity was a fluid, dangerous ecosystem. Before revealing themselves fully, Rhys crouched behind a pile of rubble at the edge of the junction, extending his Echo Sense in a wide, sweeping scan of the surrounding tunnels.
His findings confirmed his caution. The Aether source itself was still active, the dripping stones and algae humming with their gentle, pure energy – a vital relief. However, the surrounding area was far from quiet. He detected multiple Crimson Hand patrols moving through the larger adjacent sewer mains, their aggressive energy signatures a familiar threat, though they seemed less focused specifically on this junction than before. Perhaps their active search for Rhys and Boulder had shifted focus after their disappearance into the Weaver ruin weeks ago, assuming them dead or lost.
But the absence of intense Hand scrutiny was replaced by a different kind of pressure. Rhys sensed several other distinct energy signatures lurking in nearby tunnels – wary, territorial, belonging to independent scavenger crews or possibly agents of minor factions. The competition for resources, always fierce, seemed to have intensified in their absence. This sector wasn't empty; it was contested ground.
His senses focused on the junction itself. And his heart sank. They weren't alone. Gathered directly around the dripping stones were three familiar figures: Corbin and his two companions. They had hammers and chisels, crudely attempting to chip away fragments of the resonant stones, while another scraped at the valuable silvery algae coating them. They were trying to harvest or destroy the very Aether source Rhys desperately needed to recover fully.
Seeing Rhys and Boulder emerge from the unexpected side passage – a route clearly unknown to them – startled Corbin's group. They scrambled back from the stones, hands flying to their swords, surprise quickly morphing into aggressive hostility.
"You!" Corbin spat, recognizing them instantly. His eyes, narrowed and calculating, took in their ragged appearance, the signs of weariness and recent hardship. "Thought the deep worms got you rats. Took your sweet time crawling back." He stepped forward possessively, placing himself between them and the Aether source. "Doesn't matter. This spot, this energy… it's ours now. Found it fair and square after you vanished."
Rhys felt a surge of frustration and weariness. He was in no condition for a fight. His Aether Pool was maybe half full, his body still recovering, and their supplies were gone again. But retreating meant abandoning the only clean Aether source he knew how to access safely. He needed it.
"We claimed this source long before you," Rhys stated, his voice low and steady, trying to project a confidence he didn't feel. Beside him, Boulder straightened to his full height, planting his feet firmly, his scarred face impassive but radiating quiet menace. "Move on, Corbin. Find your own scraps."
Corbin laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Claimed? In the Undercity? Possession is the only law, rat. And right now, we possess this." He clearly felt he had the advantage – three armed men against two exhausted wanderers. He likely remembered Rhys's previous trick with the rocks as an unpredictable fluke rather than a reliable threat. He signaled his men to spread out slightly, advancing slowly, swords partially drawn, clearly intending to intimidate or force them back through sheer numbers.
Rhys knew a direct, prolonged fight would be disastrous. They were outnumbered, out-armed, and Rhys lacked the Aether reserves for any significant weaving. He needed a quick, decisive deterrent, something to break their confidence without escalating into a full-blown battle. His Echo Sense darted around the immediate area, searching for an environmental advantage. He spotted it: a large, corroded water pipe running along the ceiling nearby, visibly bulging in one section, indicating significant internal pressure. A joint near the bulge looked particularly weak, weeping faint droplets of foul sewer water.
He subtly channeled a small, precise amount of Aether. Not a forceful push this time, but a focused vibration, aimed directly at the weakest point of the weeping joint. He visualized the corroded metal fatiguing, fracturing under the resonant stress. Simultaneously, he gave Boulder a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
As Corbin and his men took another swaggering step forward, swords now fully drawn, the weakened pipe joint above them gave way with a sudden, loud bang. Pressurized, stinking sewer water erupted downwards in a torrential, disgusting spray, dousing all three rivals completely.
The shock was total. Sputtering, cursing, momentarily blinded by the foul deluge, Corbin stumbled back, slipping on the suddenly slick floor. His companions fared no better, recoiling in revulsion, their aggressive advance instantly forgotten in the face of the unexpected, nauseating shower.
In that precise moment of chaos and disgust, Boulder stepped forward aggressively. He didn't attack, didn't even raise his pry bar. He simply slammed the butt of the heavy tool onto the stone floor with a resounding crack, taking a wide, intimidating stance directly in their path, roaring a wordless challenge. The combination of the filthy drenching and Boulder's sudden, imposing display of raw aggression was enough.
Corbin, wiping slime from his eyes, hesitated. His companions looked shaken, their appetite for conflict significantly dampened. They had swords, yes, but facing the drenched, enraged-looking giant after being unexpectedly sprayed with raw sewage clearly wasn't appealing.
Seeing their momentary disorganization and hesitation, Rhys seized the opportunity for a tactical retreat. "This isn't worth the stench," he called out, forcing a sneer into his voice. "Keep your garbage patch." He turned deliberately, gesturing for Boulder to follow. They backed away slowly at first, then turned and retreated down the tunnel they had originally emerged from, leaving Corbin and his sputtering, drenched crew behind at the contested junction.
It wasn't a victory. They had been forced to abandon the Aether source they desperately needed. But they had avoided a potentially lethal fight and bought themselves time. As they moved back into the comparative safety of the older tunnels, Rhys knew their options were narrowing again. The sewer junction was too dangerous to use reliably now. Their only remaining refuge, however compromised, was the original cellar hideout back in the Lower District. Getting there meant navigating territory likely watched closely by the Crimson Hand. And the question lingered: what had happened to the intruders at the Weaver ruin? Had they breached the bulkhead? Were they searching for the source of the disturbance, or perhaps, for a certain missing datapad? The shadows seemed to deepen, filled with multiplying threats.