The four of them arrived at the stairwell, the rugged stone path winding downward into the jungle below. It had served them well so far, but Tank’s sheer bulk made it a hazard, forcing him to awkwardly compress himself and navigate like some overgrown, magic-powered mountain goat. That wouldn’t do—especially now that they needed a reliable way to transport materials from the lower caves.

  Traebus checked his mana storage ring, seeing that it had filled completely overnight. He had plenty of power to work with, but he had learned the hard way not to burn through it all at once. Estimating that widening the stairwell would take half his stored energy, he sighed, cracked his neck, and got to work.

  Pressing his palm to the stone, he channeled mana into the stairwell’s structure. Unlike his earlier work, which had required tedious carving and shaping, his refined control let him reshape the stone like wet clay—at least, for a short time.

  The stairs widened in smooth, deliberate waves, the edges pushing outward as he reinforced the structure beneath, ensuring that the entire thing remained stable. Thick ridges of stone formed along the sides, shaping into a more gradual descent. No more awkwardly compressed three-horn shuffling—Tank would now be able to walk down naturally.

  It took less than an hour, far quicker than it would have with his old foci, and by the time he stepped back to inspect his work, the difference was massive.

  Vaelya, who had been watching the entire process, stared in stunned silence. Her sharp green eyes traced over the reshaped stone, her expression flickering between awe and disbelief.

  "You shape stone," she finally said, her voice quiet, almost reverent. "Like the women of my village shape clay."

  Traebus glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "That impressive, huh?"

  Vaelya nodded slowly. "It is not natural. Even magic—our magic—does not do this."

  Traebus smirked. "Well, I do my best to be unnatural in all things."

  She didn't react to his humor. Instead, she looked down at the smooth, widened steps, her fingers tensing against her bracers. Her expression had shifted—no longer impressed, but melancholy.

  A quiet, distant sadness settled over her as she murmured, "Not that it matters. My village is gone."

  Traebus hesitated, then exhaled. Damn.

  He leaned against the newly reinforced stairwell, crossing his arms. "Tell me about it."

  Vaelya blinked, looking at him for a long moment.

  "You just said it's gone," he continued, watching her carefully, "but it had to have been something before that. How did you live out here? How did your people survive in this place?"

  For a moment, she seemed uncertain, as if debating whether to even bother answering. Then, after a long breath, she spoke.

  "We did not fight the jungle like you do," Vaelya finally said. "We lived with it."

  She gestured toward the trees, the dense canopy stretching far overhead. "Lir’Vahli was not a village of huts and roads. It was built among the trees, woven into the roots and branches. The largest trees became our homes, their trunks hollowed and shaped to shelter us without harming them. Bridges of woven vines and wood connected our paths, spanning across the canopy."

  Traebus listened intently, picturing the village in his mind, a settlement woven into the jungle itself rather than built on top of it. It was nothing like the cities of his world—it sounded closer to an organic labyrinth, grown over generations.

  Vaelya continued, "We were hunters and gatherers, but not just that. We farmed, but not like you—" She gestured vaguely toward his organized farm plots, "—our crops were grown among the wild plants, blending with the jungle. You would not see our fields as fields. They were part of the land, hidden among the trees, where only we knew how to find them."

  Traebus frowned. "Sounds inefficient. How do you harvest when everything is spread out?"

  Vaelya shook her head. "It is not. The jungle grows plentiful, and it grows fast. Our way allows continuous harvest, with little effort. The land is never emptied, and the jungle never starves."

  He had to admit, it made sense. It was a long-term survival method, one that avoided overuse and ensured their people never exhausted their resources.

  "And what about hunting?" he pressed. "Because this place is full of things that want to eat you."

  Vaelya smirked slightly. "That is why we hunt first."

  She leaned against the stairwell now, mirroring his posture, her sharp green eyes taking on a nostalgic gleam.

  "We hunted in groups," she explained. "Small teams, moving silently through the trees, tracking prey without disturbing the land. Our warriors—those trained for battle—used bows, spears, and knives, but our real strength was our knowledge. We knew what could be eaten, what could not, what could kill you in a breath, and what could be tamed."

  Traebus raised an eyebrow. "You tamed things?"

  She nodded. "Not many. But some. There were beasts that worked with us, helping to carry, pull, and protect. Smaller than your three-horn—" she motioned toward Tank, who was standing further down the stairwell, "—but strong."

  He found that fascinating. It meant her people weren’t just primitive survivalists—they had a deep understanding of the world around them, one that let them live alongside creatures rather than just avoiding or killing them.

  "But it didn’t save you," he finally said, his voice softer.

  Vaelya’s jaw tensed slightly, and she gave a single, curt nod. "No."

  A long pause stretched between them before she murmured, "The beasts that came to our village… they did not hunt us as prey. They hunted to destroy us. To erase us."

  She swallowed, looking away. "We were not prepared."

  Traebus let that settle in.

  His first instinct was to say something sarcastic, to make a joke about how ‘not being prepared’ was just a way of life out here—but for once, he held his tongue.

  Instead, he said, "I'm guessing running wasn’t an option."

  Vaelya shook her head. "No. We fought. But they were too many. Too strong. They swarmed us. Killed without stopping. And when they had slaughtered enough, they burned what was left."

  She inhaled slowly, regaining her composure. "I do not know if any others escaped. I only know that I ran. And that I am here now."

  Traebus studied her for a moment, then exhaled. "Alright. That’s enough for now."

  She frowned slightly, surprised by his abrupt shift.

  But he pushed off the stairwell and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. "I get it now. You’re used to working with the jungle. I’m used to conquering it. We’ve got… very different methods of survival."

  Vaelya tilted her head slightly. "That is a way to say it."

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  He smirked. "But you’re still alive. So whatever your people did? It worked. At least for a while."

  Vaelya was quiet for a long moment before she finally nodded.

  "Yes," she said. "For a while."

  Traebus let the conversation settle before refocusing on their next objective.

  "Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Enough storytelling. We have a cave to pillage."

  Vaelya’s lips twitched slightly in amusement.

  Dusk chuffed.

  Tank, still waiting patiently, snorted loudly.

  With that, the four of them continued their descent, heading into the jungle with a shared purpose—even if their paths to survival had once been different.

  They reached the cave entrance in short order. Traebus cracked his knuckles, stretching his neck and preparing himself for the task at hand—reshaping the cavern's narrow entrance so Tank could finally accompany them below. He began gathering mana, the air around his hands humming softly as power gathered. Just as he raised his hand to begin reshaping the stone, Vaelya grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him mid-motion.

  He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "Uh, did I miss something? Is this a cultural thing, or—?"

  She didn't respond directly, but instead crouched, pointing with deliberate caution at the ground near the cave entrance. Traebus squinted down, following her slender finger to a series of deep gouges scored into the stone. He felt his stomach twist slightly at the sight—they were fresh, deep, and sharp-edged, like something enormous had gouged into the stone as it passed through.

  Vaelya hissed out a single word in her native tongue, her voice dripping with venomous disdain. "Xylarath."

  Traebus blinked, glancing down at the translation ring on her hand. It provided him nothing. He frowned deeply, turning to her with concern. "What does that mean? The ring's got no clue."

  She rose slowly, eyes dark and deadly serious. "It means 'Quiet Death.' A predator from the deepest parts of the jungle. It is armored, massive, with countless legs—like a centipede, but larger than a three-horn. Its venom can kill a grown hunter with a single drop. By the time you feel it bite, it's too late."

  Traebus stared at her, a brief shiver of apprehension sliding down his spine. "Of course there's a giant, armored murder-bug," he muttered dryly. "Because the murder-chickens and killer lizards weren't enough. Why not add venomous death-bugs the size of houses?"

  Vaelya fixed him with a severe look. "It is no laughing matter. My people call it the Quiet Death. It moves silently, strikes without warning, and leaves nothing alive."

  Traebus crossed his arms, considering the cave entrance with narrowed eyes. "Well, the name certainly has drama. But fleeing isn't really an option. I've got work to do down there."

  Vaelya gave him an incredulous look. "You don't simply fight a Xylarath."

  "Who said anything about fighting?" Traebus smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as a thought crossed his mind. "I'm thinking more like 'immediately incinerate it.' You know, kill it with fire. Lots and lots of fire."

  Vaelya stared, expression blank. "You mean to burn it?"

  "Exactly." Traebus flexed the fingers bearing his enchanted rings. "There's no problem in life that can't be solved by liberal application of overwhelming magical firepower."

  Dusk snorted, clearly unimpressed.

  Traebus shot the large lizard a glare. "You're supposed to back me up here."

  Vaelya opened her mouth to protest further, but Traebus held up a hand. "Look, here's the deal—I’ll head inside alone. If the thing is down there, I'll fry it. I don't want any collateral damage, especially to you three."

  Sparky made a worried clicking noise, shifting nervously on his feet.

  Vaelya hesitated, clearly unhappy but sensing she couldn't dissuade him. She finally nodded slowly, stepping back. "Be cautious. It senses movement through vibrations in the ground."

  "Oh good," Traebus muttered sarcastically. "I'll just tip-toe around the giant death centipede. That's comforting."

  Ignoring Vaelya's skeptical look, Traebus drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward, his mind already swirling with various incendiary spells. He gestured over his shoulder. "If you hear screaming, or if I don't come back in ten minutes—just leave me down there. Clearly, the island has claimed me as its own."

  With that last grim jest, Traebus slipped into the shadowy entrance, leaving his companions waiting anxiously behind.

  Traebus moved forward slowly, his eyes squinting into the oppressive darkness as he picked his way cautiously down the tunnel. Each step was painstakingly deliberate, his senses stretched to their limits. He peered carefully into every shadow, every crevice, even craning his neck upward to scan the ceiling. He smirked slightly as he did, muttering quietly, "Oh yeah, sure, giant murder bug. Drop from above like a bad horror trope—I dare you."

  The tunnel eventually opened into the vast cavern, silent and seemingly empty. Traebus slowly edged further in, heart thudding steadily in his chest. Still nothing. He raised his torch cautiously, its flickering glow illuminating rough stone walls and the glitter of countless mineral veins.

  "Okay," he murmured, feeling his shoulders relax just a fraction. "So far so good. Resources still intact, no giant venomous murder-bug waiting to eat my face. Maybe Vaelya exaggerated. Maybe I can actually—"

  He turned, and the faintest movement in the air was the only warning he got before massive, scything jaws whistled past his face, missing by inches.

  "GAH!" Traebus staggered backward, nearly falling as his heart leapt straight into his throat. Towering above him in the darkness was the monstrous creature Vaelya had described. But seeing it firsthand was something else entirely—its segmented body coiled above him, glistening black armor plates shifting like iron. Countless legs skittered, sharp and deadly, as the creature lunged again, mandibles wide, eager to tear him apart.

  Traebus didn't even think—he reacted, shoving every last ounce of his mana into the fire ring on his finger. Heat exploded from his hand, rippling outward with staggering intensity, until a massive sphere of fire materialized before him, a furious ball of flame pulsing and roaring in the confined space.

  For a split second, time seemed to pause as both Traebus and the enormous insect stared at the fiery orb in mutual shock.

  "Huh," he gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. "That's, uh… a bit bigger than usual."

  The centipede recoiled slightly, as if sensing the impending catastrophe.

  Traebus felt a wild grin forming on his face despite the mortal danger. "Well, Vaelya," he muttered to himself, "looks like you weren't exaggerating after all. My bad."

  Then, with a dramatic flourish, he hurled the writhing inferno toward the creature, screaming out as it left his grasp, "You picked the wrong island, centipede! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

  The moment the massive sphere of fire collided with the centipede’s grotesque face, the world detonated.

  A monumental explosion erupted through the cavern, a shockwave of superheated air slamming into everything at once. The cavern walls rippled outward like the aftermath of a god’s tantrum, sending razor-sharp fragments of stone splintering in all directions. A roar of incandescent fire expanded violently, instantly vaporizing dust, scorching rock, and turning the ground to molten slag.

  Traebus had exactly one second to process the sheer stupidity of what he'd just done before self-preservation instincts kicked in.

  With a desperate surge of mana, he slammed both hands to the ground, summoning a thick shell of stone around himself. The rock sealed tightly, encasing him in a makeshift bunker just as the inferno engulfed everything outside.

  Inside his crude stone cocoon, Traebus gasped, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. At first, all he heard was the deafening roar of flames—but then he noticed something far more concerning.

  The temperature inside was rising.

  Fast.

  The thick stone blocked the fire directly, but that didn’t stop thermal conduction. The outer shell was absorbing the immense heat of the explosion, and that heat was rapidly transferring inward. Within moments, the air inside began to grow oppressively hot, his lungs stinging with every breath.

  Not good.

  Thinking fast, Traebus reached for his Water Ring. With a precise pulse of mana, he conjured water in a thin, controlled mist, rapidly dispersing it against the heated stone walls. The effect was immediate—the evaporating water began pulling heat away, lowering the temperature in pockets where it touched.

  But it wasn't enough.

  He could feel the heat still building, radiating inward. He needed a way to move it away faster, or he’d roast alive in his own protective cocoon.

  That’s when the idea struck him.

  His Wind Ring.

  Thermodynamics 101—heat rises, air moves. If he could create airflow, he could force the heated air outward, pulling in cooler air from below. He immediately shifted his focus, using the Wind Ring to generate a controlled updraft, forcing the hot air to vent upward through the small gaps in the stone. At the same time, he used Water Magic to keep generating evaporative cooling, allowing the latent heat to be carried away faster than it could accumulate.

  It was working.

  The heat levels inside began to stabilize, the air turning from searing to just uncomfortably warm. He maintained the cycle—water to absorb, wind to expel, stone to shield—until finally, the raging inferno outside began to subside.

  A few moments later, silence fell.

  Breathing heavily, Traebus pressed a shaking hand to the inside of his stone barrier. The outer layers were still hot, but cooling. With a sigh of relief, he reached for his Force Ring, sent out a controlled pulse of energy, and shattered his rocky prison from the inside.

  The instant the barrier crumbled, a wave of smoke and scorched air rushed over him, carrying the scent of molten rock, charred flesh, and utter devastation.

  Stepping out, Traebus surveyed the aftermath.

  The entire cavern had been transformed.

  The once-resource-filled chamber was now a smoldering battlefield—the ground was cracked and blackened, obsidian-like glass forming in patches where the rock had been superheated and rapidly cooled. Shattered stalactites and fallen debris lay strewn everywhere, and in the center of the destruction…

  The twisted, half-incinerated remains of the Quiet Death.

  Traebus coughed, waving a hand to clear some of the lingering smoke, then exhaled sharply.

  "Alright," he muttered hoarsely, rubbing soot from his face. "Maybe that was a bit overkill."

  He glanced down at the rings on his fingers, still faintly glowing from the energy he had burned through in an instant. The sheer scale of the spell he had just unleashed was far beyond what he had expected.

  He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Vaelya seriously undersold how big that thing was."

  Then, with a satisfied smirk, he walked forward, stepping over smoldering carapace as he made his way back toward the entrance.