The lift set down on the pillar with a distinct thunk, forcing three of the remaining four occupants to stumble to keep their balance. General Vans didn’t even rock, his feet and body steady like an oak tree on a calm summer day.

  “Follow me,” General Vans said, raising the gate of the lift and striding off. His big shield stood in front of him as he moved, though he hadn’t drawn the sword at his hip, and his head was on a swivel, watching for anything that looked out of place. “There are no predators found naturally on Ironsalt, but that doesn’t mean one hasn’t found its way here.”

  “One dangerous enough to threaten an entire village?” Det said, his mind going back to the red-clawed thing he’d fought in the mist. If that had gotten back to Radiant, would anybody other than Calisco have had a chance against it? Det looked to his side at the girl, the stick held up in front of her as she walked. She really had no idea what to do with the thing.

  Her magic was the real deal—as much as it annoyed Det to admit that—but the thing he’d fought was fast. If it got to her before one of her explosions was ready, or even just kept moving, she would’ve been in a lot of trouble. To be effective, she needed somebody between her and her target.

  Sighing to himself, Det fell into the back of the line, one hand on the undrawn sword at his hip. Jeckles saw him move, and with a glance from him to Calisco, he seemed to understand. As a healer himself, he stuck to the middle of the group. Det wasn’t really what he wanted to consider a front-liner, but he had a much better chance lasting more than a few seconds in a fight with his sword. Even better chances if the uniform actually offered some protection, like the others said.

  “You staring at my ass back there?” Calisco asked him without turning around.

  “Keep wishing,” Det responded, eyes going to the trees on both sides of the path in the thin forest they were entering. General Vans had been doing the same thing the entire time, and only now answered Det’s earlier question.

  “Some pillars below the Mistline are home to creatures we hope never reach our population centers,” General Vans said. “That could be what we’re dealing with here.”

  “And those are what are so secret?” Calisco said. “What we had to promise for?”

  “No,” General Vans admitted. “They are dangerous—very dangerous in some instances—but are not a hidden threat. Hopefully, one of them is all we’re dealing with here. If that happens to be culprit, feel free to brag when you get to Mount Avalon about helping put one down.”

  “The secret thing is worse, then?” Det said.

  “Much,” Jeckles said.

  “The odds of finding it here are low,” General Vans said. “But, if we do, you’ll know, and I’ll hold you to those oaths.”

  The proclamation shut the group up for a while, clearly part of why Vans said it, his eyes continuing to scan the woods for any dangers. At the back of the line, Det did the same thing, but it was eerily quiet. More quiet than he’d ever heard the forest back on Radiant. In fact, other than the sound of the mistship retreating in the distance, there wasn’t even a peep.

  “No birds,” Det whispered. “No insects. Nothing.”

  “I wondered when one of you would notice,” General Vans said. “That’s not normal. Ironsalt has one other claim to fame beyond its export, the Blue-Bellied Warbler. A small bird with—you guessed it—deep blue feathers on its chest. It’s about the size of my fist, but has a voice that carries for miles.

  “I’ve never been to this pillar and not heard its song.”

  “Guessing we’re not going to hear a British accent tell us they’ve gone on a ‘long journey’,” Det mumbled. Hand still on the hilt of his sword—without drawing the weapon—Det kept his eyes on the forest growing thicker around them. The path they were on was really more a road, with tracks of packed dirt from heavy wagons rolling over them. The foliage had been kept cut back from the sides, but it was thick enough to hide any number of threats.

  “Mine is just ahead. Around this next bend,” Vans said a short time later, the four ReSouled making good time. “Everything is too quiet.” Finally, the general drew the sword at his waist, a longsword made of the same white material. A blue gem of some kind sat in the middle of the cross guard, and the air around the blade shimmered slightly. “On me.”

  With the words, General Vans picked his speed up to a jog, Jeckles drawing his pistol and heading after the man. Calisco turned a look back at Det—glancing at his sheathed sword—shrugged, then ran after the other two.

  Det, for his part, gave the woods around and behind him one last quick scan before following. It didn’t take him long to catch up, as he found they’d slowed to a cautious walk as soon as they’d rounded the corner, and the mine had come into view. As to why they’d slowed, it took Det a few seconds to spot it. When he did… What the hell is that?

  The mine entrance itself wasn’t anything more than what looked like the mouth of a big cave in a low hill, clearly angled down. It wasn’t the same kind of mining operation they had on Radiant, which involved hanging off the side of the pillar on ropes to shave minerals off the outside of the stone. Each year, they had to go lower and lower down the side to get to the metals they were after, but at least the porous pigment stones seemed to regrow. That part was odd, and the whole operation grew more dangerous every year.

  Here on Ironsalt, though, it appeared to be a much more traditional mining operation. By stereotypical Earth standards, at least. There were tracks on the ground, a cart full of a metallic sand—likely the namesake ironsalt—and a nearby building. Through the still open door, simple mining equipment like picks, hammers, and shovels were visible. No people though. Not a one.

  None of that was what brought the group of four ReSouled to a guarded walk.

  No, that was because of the black material that looked like some kind of magnified virus creeping out of the cave and coating the ground. A technological virus. That was the best way to describe it. Angular tendrils stretched from disks of the shiny, black metal, spreading along the walls until they joined with—grew?—another disk. Some of the disks even had small flashing lights on them, the otherwise dark of the mine shaft blinking deeper in to show whatever the hell this was continued in.

  Or, maybe it was the opposite? It came from inside the mine?

  “This bad?” Jeckles hissed.

  “This bad,” General Vans said. He stared at the mine for several seconds, as if waiting to see if the whole thing would lunge at them, before he turned to look directly at Calisco and Det. “This is—unfortunately—what you are not allowed to talk about. When we’re done here, we’ll tell you what you saw, and you’ll repeat it to anybody who asks. You’ll be drilled on it, while confined on the airship, to ensure you get it right."

  "Confined?" Calisco said. "You never said anything about that."

  "Even the crew doesn’t know about this,” General Vans said. “It’s not their burden to bear. It’s ours. You’ll learn why during your second year. Then—and only then—will you be able to talk about what you see here. And only with fellow Mistguard.”

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  “And… what if we say no to that?” Calisco said, that mischievous smirk on her face.

  The look General Vans gave her as he turned to fully face her made both Det and Jeckles take a step away from the woman. Gone was the gentle posture the man had taken with them since they’d met. There was no sign of a supportive or understanding individual, instead entirely replaced with a weapon.

  Looking at General Vans in that moment was like looking at a bared blade streaking in Det’s direction. And he wasn’t even the target of the man’s intense stare.

  “Then we return to Mount Avalon with one less potential Mistguard,” General Vans said. “This is non-negotiable.”

  “… Was… I was…” Calisco coughed. “I was just… asking.” She made a motion like she was zipping up her lips, then tossed away the key.

  General Vans kept his glare locked on her for several more uncomfortable seconds, the woman—for the first time Det had ever seen—wilting slightly beneath the attention. Then the general turned his eyes to Det.

  “And you?” Vans asked.

  “Dying now doesn’t do me any good,” Det said bluntly. “But, if whatever-the-hell-this-is is so dangerous, why is it a secret?”

  “In second-year you’ll…” Jeckles started.

  “I’ll answer that,” General Vans interrupted. “But it’s the only question. Understood?”

  Det nodded.

  “It’s normally confined to very specific locations,” General Vans said. “Locations we control, contain, and keep random people away from. This kind of emergence is… uncommon. This whole pillar will need to be quarantined.

  “And before you ask the next question I know you want to…”

  “There’s something valuable in there people would want if they knew about it,” Det said. It wasn’t a question.

  General Vans was silent for a second after the interruption, but he finally nodded. “Correct.”

  “Then we’ll be quiet about it, won’t we Calisco?” Det said, looking at the woman a few steps to his side.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled with her lips still pressed together.

  “Good,” General Vans said, then seemed to spot something above and behind Det. “Ah, perfect timing.”

  Not a few seconds later, Captain Simmons leapt from his flying sword—twenty feet up—to hit the ground at a run that stopped a few paces in front of the general. A tight salute—at the same time his sword sheathed itself on his back—and the captain spoke.

  “Town looked empty from an aerial circuit, Sir,” Simmons said. “No movement or sound of any kind. Something definitely happened there, signs of a struggle—along with enough blood there should be bodies—but it’s deserted now, and…” his eyes went to the mine-opening, then to the two new ReSouled recruits.

  “I’ve reminded them of their oaths,” General Vans said.

  “No sign of an emergence in the town,” Simmons said. “When I didn’t see any of the markers, I figured it would be best to rejoin you.”

  “You made the correct choice,” General Vans said. “What’s your estimation on the Rank?”

  “Size of the disk suggests D-Rank,” Simmons said.

  “Jeckles?” Vans said without looking at the Medic.

  “Agreed,” Jeckles said. “D-Rank. Probably High-D-Rank, from the smell.”

  Vans let out one, short chuckle. “Forgot about that nose of yours. High-D it is.”

  “Sir,” Simmons said.

  “I know,” General Vans said. “That means it’s the one scenario where our new recruits can’t join us.”

  “Whoa now,” Calisco said, some of that old fire coming back into her voice as she stepped forward. As soon as Vans turned just his eyes to her, she stopped cold. “Uh, I mean, we already promised. Twice.”

  “It’s not about the promise,” Jeckles said. “You’ll learn about how the Ranks work in second year. And how this being a High-D-Rank makes it the most dangerous range for you newbs.”

  “Worse than a C-Rank or higher?” Det said.

  “Yes,” Jeckles said. “High-anything-Ranks will prioritize targets one full Rank beneath them. In this case, that would be E-Ranks. You. Even with the general and captain here, something would get by, and it would be out for your blood. And it would be just strong enough there would be nothing you could do to stop it.”

  “You could heal us?” Det said.

  “I can’t heal dead,” Jeckles said flatly.

  The blunt answer shut Det’s mouth up, but even he had to agree a bit with Calisco. He’d come down to help, not to get sidelined. Then again, dying wouldn’t progress his goals or get him back to Nat and Yumi. If the general said there was too much of a risk for him to go, well, he’d just have to accept that.

  “Dungeons will also adapt to the power of the people entering them,” General Vans added. “Even if this is a D-Rank dungeon, it will feel my power, and—given enough time—produce challenges even for me. Those will also target the weakest among us.”

  Det didn’t have a point of comparison for how strong the general was, but something that could threaten him would likely be very bad news for the two new ReSouled from Radiant.

  “Det and Calisco,” General Vans said, something about the tone of his voice making the two new ReSouled give their best impressions of the salute. “You two will return to the town of Ironsalt. Look for survivors. Any you find will be coming with us back to Mount Avalon.”

  Something about the way he said that made it sound like they wouldn’t find a soul.

  “You’re sending us to the kiddie table?” Calisco said.

  “It’s for your own safety,” Jeckles said.

  “And,” General Vans added, voice stern. “It is important, because of our obligation to help anybody who has survived this nightmare. Follow the road we came down. On foot, for a motivated ReSouled, you should be there in less than twenty minutes. Bring anybody you find to the town square. There’s enough space there for the airship to drop the lift when it’s time to return. Be careful. Just because the captain didn’t see any dangers, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  Det nodded. Beside him, it took Calisco another few seconds before she also did, though the line of her lips showed she still wasn’t happy about the situation. She wanted to prove herself. So did Det, really, but that could also be done by following orders. As long as they were alive, there would be plenty of chances to leave their mark.

  “Dismissed,” General Vans said. His eyes stayed locked on the pair until they turned and started back the way they’d come, Det once again taking the lead in their actions.

  He gave one look back, and Captain Simmons—who stood at ease beside the general now—gave him a nod of encouragement. Returning the nod, Det looked ahead down the road. This literal path in front of him wasn’t how he was going to get stronger, but staying on the general’s good side probably was.

  There was also the fact that helping people wasn’t a bad thing. He could do that while he worked to get home. As long as it didn’t slow him down.

  “Sir,” Simmons said behind him. “What’s the plan? We clearing the first level, or pushing right to the second or third level?”

  “One moment, Captain,” Vans said, his voice growing louder when he continued. “Cadets.”

  It took Det a second to realize the general was talking to them, and he turned from his walk to look back. “Sir?”

  “I said motivated ReSouled.” The slight reprimand in the man’s voice was enough to elicit another salute from Det.

  As soon as his hand was back at his side, he turned from the trio watching him, and took off at a spirited jog down the road. From the sound of footfalls on the packed dirt, Calisco had followed suit.

  Just as they rounded the bend again, the faint sound of the three back by the mine talking reached his ears, but he couldn’t make out their words. Within another few seconds, everything had returned to the eerie quiet of earlier.

  Even Calisco wasn’t talking, which was kind of a miracle. Better yet, when they did get to the town, they’d probably split up to look for survivors. He could follow orders, get in the General’s good-book, and not even have to spend time with the woman. Win-win.

  Then again, it wasn’t like he’d ever ‘searched a town for survivors’. How was he supposed to do that? Just go house to house, kicking in doors when he needed to? The thoughts of figuring out how to do that occupied his mind for the next ten minutes. He was so invested in planning, he barely noticed when the footsteps behind him ceased.

  Fifteen feet later, his brain caught up to what his ears told him, and Det slowed, stopped, then turned around.

  Almost thirty feet back, Calisco stood looking the direction they’d come.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea,” Det said.

  “An empty town doesn’t need two of us to search,” Calisco said without looking at him.

  “I’d argue that making sure it’s empty requires the both of us,” Det said. “Look, the general basically ordered us to go to the town and do this. Helping like that…”

  “I can help more in that mine, with them,” Calisco interrupted. “My magic is made for fighting, not looking in closets for kids hiding under blankets.”

  “You think explosions in a mine is a good idea?” Det countered.

  “I’m not going to bring it down on our heads,” she snapped. “I’ve practiced. Just because you’re useless doesn’t mean we all are.”

  “Yeah, screw you too,” Det said. “Go, do whatever you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

  “I don’t need your permission,” Calisco said.

  “Clearly.”

  “I’m going back,” she said. “I’ll show them how much my magic is worth.”

  “Good luck with that,” Det said flatly. “Your funeral.”

  “Just the opposite,” she said, turning back to give him a smug smile. “More like my first step to greatness, while you continue down the road to obscurity. Go, be a good little dog following orders, and blend into the crowd. That’s not the life for me.”

  With the words—and the finger—Calisco sprinted back the way they’d just come, toward the mine.

  Leaving Det standing alone in the middle of the road—apparently—between greatness and kids hiding in closets.

  “Friggin’ wonderful.”