Chapter 40: The Hunt and the Discovery

  Thalron sat in the dim glow of his room, staring at the wooden walls of the inn he and his inquisitors had settled in for the night. Nine days.

  It had been nine days since his mother, Fillia Kelcrest, had given him the task of finding Marcus. Nine days of endless tracking, cold leads, and frustration.

  His body ached from the travel, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not when his next report was due soon.

  Thalron sighed and raised a hand, focusing his mana flow into the small Voxiacere stone hovering before him. The stone began to hum, floating upward as a faint blue glow radiated from its core.

  "I hate this part," he muttered under his breath.

  Then, his mother’s voice vibrated through the stone.

  "Are you any closer to finding him?" Fillia’s tone was as cold and emotionless as ever.

  Thalron straightened. "No, not yet, but we plan to—"

  "Hmm... waste of a Voxiacere stone." She cut him off before he could finish, her voice still devoid of feeling. "Your next report is due in three days. If you have not apprehended Marcus by then, do not bother with a report."

  Her words hit like a blow to the chest.

  Thalron clenched his jaw. "Understood, Master Fillia." He tried to keep his voice steady, but the discouragement was there.

  There was a brief pause. Then, in a rare, softer tone, his mother added, "You sound tired, son. Get some sleep."

  His grip on his mana wavered, and before he could respond, the stone flickered and crumbled into dust.

  Thalron sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  He felt no closer to finding Marcus.

  With a long sigh, he rose to his feet. His body ached, his mind raced, and sleep felt like a distant dream. Maybe the innkeeper had some warm milk.

  As he made his way toward the dining area, voices drifted from a nearby hallway. He barely paid them any attention—until he caught a name.

  "Yeah, the big one, Boruk. He was handsome for an orc."

  Boruk.

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  The name struck him like a thunderclap.

  Thalron stopped mid-step. I know that name.

  Turning on his heel, he approached the two maids who had been talking.

  "Excuse me, miss," Thalron interrupted, his voice polite but urgent. "My name is Thalron Kelcrest. I overheard you mention the name Boruk."

  One of the maids blinked in surprise before nodding. "Yes, he’s an adventurer. He was here a few days ago."

  Thalron’s pulse spiked. "Who was with him?"

  The second maid frowned in thought. "Two other orcs… and some kind of man-thing."

  Thalron narrowed his eyes. "Man-thing?"

  "Yeah, he looked like a human, but his skin was brown."

  A cold thrill shot through Thalron’s spine.

  "Ancestors' Grace!" he exclaimed. "How many days ago?"

  The maid hummed. "Mmm… three, I think?"

  That was all he needed.

  "Thank you!"

  Thalron turned and bolted back to his room. He had been so blind.

  Marcus had allied himself with the orcs.

  It made perfect sense now. Orcs were territorial, their strongholds were well-guarded, and outsiders rarely ventured into them.

  He should have considered it earlier.

  He had wasted time.

  Not anymore.

  Miles outside the orc stronghold, Marcus threw a sharp jab, cutting through the air with precision. His feet shuffled, his form was tight, his rhythm steady.

  A right cross. A hook. Another jab.

  Each movement was sharp, honed by years of muscle memory.

  Yet, despite his flawless form, Stem’s voice echoed in his head.

  "Your jabs are not flawless."

  Marcus frowned, throwing another punch. "What do you mean? My jabs are flawless."

  "They are good. Not flawless."

  Marcus scoffed. "I've been doing this for a long time. I think I know a thing or two about throwing a proper punch."

  "And I have the infinite knowledge of the universe. Your jabs are not flawless."

  Marcus rolled his eyes. "C’mon, Stem, I’m the premier boxer of this world."

  "You are the only boxer of this world."

  Marcus paused mid-punch, exhaling in defeat. "Would it kill you to lie to me sometimes?"

  "Lying is inefficient."

  Marcus laughed, shaking his head. "Just do the ‘adjusting parameters’ thing and lie to me every once in a while."

  "Okay. Adjusting parameters."

  Marcus raised a brow. "Wait… did you actually just do that?"

  "No."

  Marcus let out a bark of laughter. "You’re impossible."

  Stem remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "Before we go, I have been studying historical data of this planet. If you would indulge me, I believe I have found something."

  Marcus straightened. "What did you find?"

  A marker suddenly appeared on Marcus’ interface.

  "Are you up for more cardio? Run two miles this way."

  Marcus squinted at the marker. "An area map? I didn’t know the system could do this."

  "The system cannot. I can."

  Marcus shook his head with a grin. "Well, guess we’re running, then."

  With that, he took off at a steady sprint, guided by the marker Stem had placed on his HUD.

  When he finally reached the location, he skidded to a stop, panting slightly.

  Nothing.

  It was just an open plain of dirt and sparse grass.

  Marcus frowned. "There’s nothing here."

  Stem remained silent for a moment before replying.

  "One moment. Checking records... There is a dungeon here. Approximately zero-point-four-miles miles down."

  Marcus stiffened. "You mean there’s a dungeon… right below my feet?"

  "No, it is exactly zero-point-four mi—"

  "You know what I mean."

  "Yes. Right below your feet."

  Marcus looked down, then back up. "Why is it hidden?"

  Stem paused before answering.

  "Time. Continental drift. Geological shifts. It was not always here. But over millennia, layers of earth buried it. Records of its existence faded. It was forgotten."

  Marcus stared at the ground. A dungeon lost to time itself.

  The thought sent a thrill of excitement through him.

  "We have to tell the others."