The gate transition's disorienting stretch finally released me, and I stumbled forward onto jagged crystal ground. My stomach lurched like I'd just ridden the worst carnival attraction in Neo-Atlanta's Foundation Day festival. This wasn't normal. I'd been through dozens of gates as a porter, and none had felt this wrong.
"Well," I said as Eliza emerged from the gate behind me, "I think someone miscategorized this one."
She didn't reply immediately, her golden eyes widening as she took in our surroundings. The massive blue-black crystal spires dominated the landscape, stretching impossibly high toward a crimson sky that had no business being that color in a Tier 1 gate. The air felt heavy, almost pressurized against my skin.
"Holy shit," she whispered.
The team leader—Scarface, as I'd mentally dubbed him—stepped forward, his expression hardening as he scanned the cathedral ruins. The other hunters spread out instinctively, weapons ready. Muscle Woman's gauntlets hummed with Enhancement Essentia, while the youngest hunter—barely older than me with a nervous twitch—kept his hands raised, ready to emit something nasty.
"What's the plan here, boss?" I called out, casually shuffling my cards to mask my unease. "Because this looks less like a Tier 1 and more like something that'll get us all memorial services."
Scarface's jaw tightened. "We stick to protocol. Secure the area, identify crystal deposits, extract, and leave."
"Protocol?" I laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally in the vast space. "Protocol is for gates that are actually what they're classified as. This is—" I gestured broadly at the towering cathedral ruins, "—definitely not that."
"We've got our orders," he snapped, a flash of something desperate crossing his scarred face. "FBH confirmed the readings were fluctuating but still within Tier 1 parameters."
"I'm sensing at least Tier 2 energy patterns," Eliza cut in, her voice calm but firm. "There's something wrong with this gate."
The other porter—a middle-aged man with perpetually downcast eyes—shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should report back?"
"And say what?" Scarface demanded. "That we took one look and ran? The gate's been open five days already. We've got two days before potential breach. This job needs to get done."
I watched his face carefully. There was more than professional pride at stake here. The man was desperate—the kind of desperate I recognized from looking in the mirror most mornings.
"Let's put it to a vote," suggested Muscle Woman.
Scarface nodded stiffly. "Fine. All in favor of proceeding with the mission?"
His hand went up immediately, followed by Muscle Woman's, Twitchy's, and after a moment's hesitation, the other porter's. Only Eliza and I kept our hands down.
"Four to two," Scarface announced. "We proceed."
I glanced at Eliza, who shook her head slightly, clearly as unhappy with this decision as I was. For a brief, wild moment, I considered walking back through the gate. I could report the team for recklessness, wash my hands of this mess.
But abandonment on my record? That would trigger an immediate FBH investigation. They'd pull my file, discover my counterfeit license, and then I'd be completely screwed. No more porter work, no more black market crystal sales—no more money for Mom's treatments. And thanks to my wonderful brother cutting all ties and making sure I couldn't follow in his prestigious footsteps, I couldn't even legally hunt until I turned 21.
I was trapped.
"Fine," I sighed, spinning a card between my fingers. "But when this goes sideways—and it will—I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' as we're all running for our lives."
"Noted," Scarface replied dryly. "Form up."
We moved deeper into the cathedral ruins, our footsteps echoing off crystal surfaces that seemed to absorb rather than reflect light. The temperature fluctuated wildly—one moment freezing, the next uncomfortably warm. Small crystal fragments floated in the air, defying gravity in ways that made my head hurt if I looked at them too long.
Eliza caught my eye, her expression unreadable. "I don't like this."
"Makes two of us," I replied, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension building there. "But four against two says we're exploring Creepy Crystal Cathedral either way."
We moved forward as a group, Scarface and Tank taking point, Twitchy behind them with his hands glowing faintly green—a Healer type, thank whatever gods were watching. Eliza and I flanked the sides while Beard brought up the rear. I kept a charged card ready between my fingers, the energy crackling more intensely than it should have.
The cathedral ruins opened into a vast central chamber. Crystal formations jutted from the ground and walls in patterns that looked almost deliberate—geometric arrangements that hurt the eye if you stared too long. The temperature fluctuated wildly as we moved, pockets of warmth giving way to sudden cold spots without warning.
"See?" Scarface said after thirty minutes of cautious progress. "Nothing here. Just weird crystals. We'll be rich."
As if on cue, a chittering sound echoed through the chamber. We froze, weapons raised. From behind a fallen crystal column, a creature scuttled into view. It looked vaguely insectoid, about the size of a large dog, with a translucent exoskeleton that pulsed with inner light. As it moved, its form seemed to flicker between solid and intangible.
"Tier 2 threat." Eliza whispered, her hands already glowing with dark energy.
"Told you this wasn't a Tier 1," I muttered.
The creature's head snapped toward us. It made a sound that chilled my blood—a perfect mimicry of my voice saying "Told you this wasn't a Tier 1."
"What the—"
Before I could finish, the thing rushed us. Tank moved forward, her enhanced strength sending her baton crashing into the creature's side. It phased partially out of existence, the weapon passing through before it solidified again and slashed at her with crystalline limbs.
"Spread out!" Scarface ordered, drawing a short sword that gleamed with Emission energy.
I pulled three cards from my deck, letting my Essentia flow into them. The cards hummed between my fingers, charged with unstable kinetic energy. I flicked the first one toward the creature, aiming for what I hoped was a vulnerable joint.
The card sliced through the air, trailing orange-magenta energy, and embedded itself in the Chrysalid's leg. A second later, it detonated with a sharp crack. The creature screeched but didn't fall. Instead, it flickered again, teleporting a short distance away.
"Shit! It can teleport?" I grabbed more cards, charging them quickly.
Eliza moved in a fluid arc, her hands trailing obsidian flames with golden edges. She sent a concentrated beam of dark energy at the creature, catching it mid-teleport. The energy clung to it like tar, preventing it from phasing completely.
"Hit it now!" she called.
Tank and Scarface converged on the creature, their enhanced strikes and energy blade tearing into its now-solid form. I flicked another card, this one detonating against what might have been its head.
The creature collapsed, its body dissolving into crystalline dust that scattered across the floor. But the victory was short-lived—more chittering sounds echoed from the darkness.
"There's more of them," Twitchy said, his hands already glowing brighter as he prepared healing energy.
"At least five," Eliza confirmed, her golden eyes scanning the shadows. "Maybe more."
We formed a defensive circle as the Chrysalids emerged from all sides. I felt sweat beading on my forehead despite the cold. This was bad. My cards were effective, but each charge drained my Essentia reserves faster than I expected. Whatever was happening in this gate was amplifying our abilities but making them more unstable.
I flicked two more cards at an approaching Chrysalid. The explosion was bigger than it should have been, sending shock waves that made my teeth rattle. I winced, feeling the drain hit me harder than normal.
"Ease up on the fireworks," Eliza warned, noticing my reaction. "This place is enhancing our output but doubling the cost."
For the next hour, we fought our way through waves of the creatures. They weren't particularly strong individually, but their phasing ability made them tricky to hit. Tank's Enhancement made her nearly unstoppable in close combat, her body moving with impossible speed and strength. Scarface's Emission-charged blade cut through the creatures like they were made of paper. Even Twitchy proved useful, his healing abilities keeping us on our feet when the occasional attack got through.
Eliza was something else entirely. Her control over her Obsidian Flare was precise and devastating. The dark energy she emitted seemed to counteract the Chrysalids' phasing ability, making them vulnerable.
I, on the other hand, was struggling. My Transmutation abilities worked best with preparation and control—neither of which was abundant in the middle of a fight. I'd managed to charge several crystal shards from the ground, creating improvised mines that detonated when the creatures passed over them, but each use of my Essentia left me more drained than the last.
Finally, the attacks stopped. We stood in a circle, breathing hard, surrounded by scattered crystal dust.
"Everyone alive?" Scarface asked, looking annoyingly smug. "See? Manageable."
I doubled over, hands on my knees. "Oh sure. Totally manageable. Just like a leisurely stroll through the park."
Beard had already begun collecting crystal samples, his extraction tools cutting through the formations. "These are high quality. Worth the trouble."
"Let's hurry," Eliza said, her eyes still scanning our surroundings. "We shouldn't stay here longer than necessary."
I straightened up, wincing at the dull ache spreading through my muscles. Using too much Essentia too quickly always left me feeling like I'd run a marathon. "For once, I agree with the goth princess."
Eliza shot me a look that could have frozen hell.
"What? It's a compliment. Black is your color."
She rolled her eyes and turned away.
We moved deeper into the cathedral, filling our extraction packs with crystal samples. The formations grew more complex the further we went, creating patterns that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at them. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe.
"Almost done," Scarface announced after what felt like hours. "One more section and—"
A sound cut him off. Not the chittering of the Chrysalids, but something deeper. A resonant, bone-shaking roar that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
We froze.
"What was that?" Twitchy whispered, his hands trembling.
"Nothing good," I replied, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The roar came again, closer this time. Through a massive archway ahead, a shadow moved—something tall and elongated, with proportions all wrong for any creature I'd ever seen.
"Extraction complete," Beard whispered, securing his pack. "We should go. Now."
"Seconded," I said, already backing toward the way we came.
But Scarface hesitated, staring at the archway. "Just a peek. If it's guarding something valuable—"
"Are you insane?" I hissed.
"We've handled everything so far," Scarface argued. "And if there's something better beyond—"
"There's nothing beyond but death," Eliza cut in, her voice cold.
As if to confirm her words, a strange humming filled the air—a sound that resonated at a frequency that made my teeth ache and my vision blur. Through the archway, something moved into view—a towering, emaciated figure composed of what looked like thousands of crystal threads constantly unraveling and rewinding. It had no face, just a blank space where features should be, yet somehow I felt it watching us.
"Run," Eliza whispered.
For once, nobody argued.