Morning came without ceremony.
Pale light filtered through the trees, accompanied by faint whistling birdsong. The quiet shuffling of people waking up had a cascade effect until eventually all of them were awake.
Takkar dropped from his perch where he’d been sleeping, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, eyes already sharp. Rikta blinked herself awake near the edge of the rise, clutching for something before realizing she didn’t have it anymore. Bill sat up more slowly, his long limbs unfolding with deliberate care, while Lorian simply… opened his eyes.
The foxkin was the last to move.
She stretched languidly, tail flicking, then smiled at him as if she hadn’t fallen asleep and left the third shift entirely to him.
“Good morning,” she said.
Cain gave her a dead-eyed stare.
“You don’t fall asleep on night watch,” he said.
She giggled. “I’m always watching. Sleep for my kind is more similar to how it works for you.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re a disembodied soul inhabiting multiple bodies, right?”
Was that accurate?
Cain actually wasn’t sure. He’d never separated himself from both his bodies at once. He wasn’t even sure what that would feel like.
“I don’t think so?”
“Ah, you probably just don’t know how to do it yet. Anyway, it’s kind of like that.”
Cain considered her words. “So you can control multiple avatars as well?”
She shook her head, smiling. “No, I only have one body at a time.”
“…But you have had more than one body, then?”
She winked.
‘What kind of creature did I make a contract with?’
Cain looked away from the foxkin before that line of thought went anywhere dangerous.
“Before we do anything else,” he said, clapping his hands once, “eat, drink some water, take care of anything you need to take care of.”
Rikta rubbed her bleary eyes. “We just woke up.”
“Yes,” Cain said. “And we need to get on the road. Eat.”
They gathered near the crate, breaking out dried rations and water skins. Since it was a quick morning, they didn’t bother with a fire, just cold food and the quiet sounds of chewing and swallowing. The forest felt different in daylight, less predatory but no less watchful.
Bill crouched by the crate, rummaging with exaggerated seriousness.
“What are you doing?” Rikta asked.
“Practicing,” Bill said gravely.
He produced a small bundle of wrapped leaves and began untying them with careful fingers.
Cain eyed him. “Where did you get those?”
“When I was on watch,” Bill replied. “I looked for seasonings.”
“…”
“Why?” Takkar asked.
Bill hesitated. “I was promoted to assistant chef. I figured it was my responsibility to make the food taste good…”
Takkar leaned closer and examined the wrapped leaves before recoiling in horror.
“Those are toxic!”
Bill raised the bundle to his eye level and studied them.
“They are?”
He grabbed a leaf and tossed it into his mouth.
“They taste good,” he rumbled. “I didn’t know it was poison.”
“…Why are you eating more after finding out?” Rikta asked.
Bill grinned. “Because it tastes good.”
Cain stared at the bundle of leaves.
“Are you sure those leaves are toxic?” he asked Takkar. “Bill seems fine after eating it.”
“I’m sure,” he replied. “Those are belladonna leaves.”
As an avid RPG gamer in his past life, Cain had heard of those.
He wasn’t sure why the name was the same across worlds, but that wasn’t important right now.
“Bill, if you’re fine eating those, then be my guest. But you’re not allowed to put those leaves into any of our food.”
Bill nodded solemnly. “Understood.”
He tucked the remaining leaves back into their wrapping and slid them into a sack he tied to his waist.
Takkar watched him do it with deep suspicion. “If you start dying of poison, I’m not carrying you.”
“That’s fair,” Bill agreed.
Cain clapped his hands once. “Alright. Pack up.”
That was all it took.
Rations were sealed, waterskins checked and redistributed. Cain made a quick count—they still had food for several days, but the water would run out first. The mountains ahead were likely to be a daunting trial, so he would have to look out for a water source on the way there.
They set off.
The forest thinned quickly now, trees growing sparse and stunted as stone began to dominate the landscape. Roots clawed at shallow soil, gripping cracks in the rock like they were afraid of being pulled free. The air cooled as they climbed, wind threading through the slopes with a constant, whispering pressure.
Any light conversations faded.
Footing demanded attention as loose gravel slid under boots, pebbles clattering downhill. Cain adjusted their pace without comment, slowing just enough that no one lagged too far behind.
By late morning, the ground leveled out into a narrow shelf of stone.
That was when Cain saw it.
The road, or what passed for one, ended with neglect. Packed earth unraveled into scattered rock. Here and there, he noted old wheel ruts that vanished mid-line, as if someone had once tried to force a path into the mountains from this very spot.
He stopped.
The others did too, almost instinctively.
Beyond the shelf, the mountains rose in earnest—jagged, gray, and immense. Their lower slopes were bare stone and scrub, their upper reaches swallowed by slow-moving cloud. Wind slid down the face in cold fingers, carrying the scent of thin air and something faintly metallic.
This was not a place meant to be crossed casually.
There were no water sources on the way here. If they couldn’t find any in the mountains, he’d have to refill the waterskins in Cairel and send them via the wardrobe.
An inelegant solution, but a necessary one.
“This is Voskeg,” Rikta said quietly.
Cain nodded. “It certainly looks dangerous.”
Takkar crouched near the edge of the shelf, peering down the broken slope. “I see why the road gave up.”
“As if heights were enough to stop humans,” Cain muttered.
He took the first step off the shelf.
Stone crunched under his boot. The others followed, one by one, leaving the last trace of a ‘path’ behind without ceremony.
The Voskeg Mountains closed around them.
At first, the climb was merely unpleasant. The air thinned gradually, their breaths growing sharper, each inhale a little less satisfying than the last. The wind strengthened, slipping through gaps in the stone and tugging at cloaks and loose fabric.
They hadn’t been climbing for more than two hours when Cain noticed the first sign.
The wind shifted. It lost its direction, swirling instead of flowing, scraping across stone in uneven pulses.
Then a drop of rain struck his cheek.
He frowned and looked up.
Another followed. Then a third. The drops were sparse enough that it almost felt harmless—an inconvenience rather than a warning. The foxkin glanced skyward, ears twitching, and Takkar slowed his pace, tail flicking in irritation.
“The mountains are angry,” the foxkin hummed. “They don’t like being crossed.”
“You make it sound like the mountains are aware of us,” Cain noted.
She smiled faintly. “Places can have preferences.”
Cain opened his mouth to answer.
The rain fell.
It wasn’t gradual or polite.
It slammed into them like the mountain had tipped a bucket upside down.
Water sheeted down the rock face in seconds, turning the stone slick beneath their boots. Fine gravel loosened instantly, skittering downhill in a rattling cascade that grew louder by the heartbeat. Wind followed hard on its heels, screaming through the pass with sudden, violent force.
Rikta cried out as her footing vanished.
Cain caught her by the arm, the impact jarring all the way up his shoulder as her full weight yanked sideways. His boots slid, stone grinding beneath him as the slope tried to take them both.
“Hold!” he shouted.
Another gust hit them broadside.
It wasn’t just a shove; it was a full-on strike. He felt it in his ribs, in his lungs, the air punched from him as rain and grit lashed his face. Visibility vanished in a blink, fog rolling in so thick the world collapsed to a handful of feet.
Water surged past their legs.
Streams formed instantly, swelling into frothing torrents that tore loose stones free and hurled them downhill. Cain braced, muscles locking as a rush of water slammed into his knees, trying to shear his footing out from under him.
Bill staggered, his massive frame suddenly a liability as the wind caught him full in the chest. He dropped to one knee with a grunt, the crate on his shoulder flying away into the distance behind them. With both hands, he desperately clawed into the rock to keep from being dragged.
“Shit!” Cain cursed seeing their supplies disappear into the storm. “We need to find shelter!”
Another rumble echoed through the stone. The mountain groaned as water forced its way through cracks and channels.
Lorian swayed, hands clutching his head. “It’s too loud,” he gasped. “Everything’s moving—”
Cain grabbed him and forced him down, shoving his weight forward as another surge roared past where Lorian’s legs had been moments before. Cold water soaked through his clothes instantly, dragging at him, pulling, demanding that he let go.
He felt it clearly.
This wasn’t something he could overpower.
There was no enemy to fight, no skill he could possibly activate, no amount of strength that could make this mountain want to let him live.
“Move!” he shouted, scanning desperately through the gray.
Through the curtain of rain, he spotted it—a dark fracture in the stone beneath an overhang, barely visible through the fog. A shallow cave mouth, jagged and narrow.
He didn’t think.
He lunged for it, hauling Rikta and Lorian with him, half-carrying, half-dragging them as the slope tried to rip them apart. Takkar reached it first, bracing himself inside and grabbing Bill as another torrent surged, nearly tearing the massive troll off his feet.
Cain shoved Lorian inside just as another wall of water thundered past the entrance, close enough that the spray soaked his face and the roar drowned out every other sound.
Then he tossed Rikta inside.
He threw himself in last.
The storm screamed outside.
Inside the cave, the sound dropped to a dull, suffocating roar, the wind reduced to a mournful howl that rattled stone and bone. Water rushed past the entrance in blinding sheets, the world beyond reduced to gray chaos.
Cain sucked in a breath that tasted like wet rock.
Everyone was inside.
“Well, that solves the water problem…” he muttered weakly.
No one laughed.
Taking a moment to examine their new surroundings, Cain frowned.
Something about the cave was wrong.
The air inside was strangely warm, and there were patches of dry stone untouched by spray.
Bill shifted, his craggy feet scraping softly against the rock.
“Cain,” he rumbled. “The stone is warm.”
Cain followed his gaze.
The far wall wasn’t jagged like the rest. It curved, layered, and textured in overlapping ridges that caught the dim light differently as the storm flickered outside.
It was almost like…
Scales.
“Fuck…” Cain cursed again.
Lorian swallowed hard, hands tightening at his sides. “Something’s breathing,” he whispered. “It’s… below us. And above. And—”
The pressure changed.
Loose grit skittered across the cave floor as something unfolded itself from the wall. Stone cracked and separated as a massive limb peeled free of the rock with a sound like grinding teeth. Another followed. Then another.
Tentacles.
They were as thick as tree trunks and lined with pale suckers that clung to stone. The cave ceiling shifted as they moved, fragments of rock raining down as the creature drew itself together.
A head lowered from the shadows last, broad and asymmetrical, its surface a mess of stone-crusted flesh and scar tissue. Its eyes opened slowly, pale and reflective, utterly unconcerned.
“What the hell is that thing?” Takkar managed to ask.
Nobody had an answer.
But it was clear that the storm hadn’t driven them to shelter.
“Move,” Cain said quietly.
The monster struck.
A tentacle slammed into the floor where Rikta had been standing a heartbeat earlier, stone exploding outward in a spray of shards. Takkar yanked her sideways as another limb swept through the space they’d occupied, suckers tearing grooves into the rock as it missed by inches.
Fireball!
Hundreds of fireballs spun in orbit around Cain, bathing the cavern in the light of a molten core. The monster visibly recoiled at the sudden brightness as the overwhelming heat warped the battlefield, the puddles of rain forming near the entrance beginning to steam and evaporate.
“Don’t use fire in a cave!” Takkar shouted.
“I don’t have a choice,” Cain snapped back.
With a flick of his finger, he began his assault.
Instead of releasing them all at once, he split the orbit. A single fireball flickered forward, teleporting mid-flight, and detonated against a tentacle mid-swing. The limb recoiled violently, suckers blackening and splitting as the membrane between them ignited.
The monster let out a low, grinding bellow that vibrated through the stone.
“Run!” Cain shouted.
They didn’t need to be told twice.
He released another pair of fireballs, one striking the cave ceiling above the monster, showering it with burning debris, the other slamming into a sucker-lined limb just as it reached for Bill. The limb jerked back, its grip faltering long enough for them to gain distance.
They fled deeper into the cave as the monster surged after them, its bulk too large for speed but devastating in reach. Tentacles tore free chunks of stone, collapsing a narrow side passage behind them, sealing it completely as if the mountain itself were unraveling.
Cain summoned another wave of fireballs and threw them backward in waves with every step.
Every hit lit another flame.
Given enough time, eventually the creature would burn to death.
Smoke rose from its limbs, the smell acrid and wrong, like wet stone and scorched meat. It didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down. Cracks spread beneath its blackened scales, and dark blood welled in the split stone crust.
Another tunnel collapsed behind them.
This one went completely, the ceiling folding inward with a deafening crack that sent a shockwave through the floor. They barely cleared it before the passage vanished in a wall of rubble.
They veered sharply, boots skidding on slick stone as runoff from the storm poured through cracks in the ceiling, turning this stretch of cave into a rushing mess of water and debris.
Bill took the lead, shouldering through falling rock, his massive frame holding up a collapsing arch long enough for the others to pass. A tentacle wrapped around his leg and pulled.
He roared, digging both hands into the stone, muscles bulging as Cain threw another fireball at the limb holding him, forcing it to release with a violent hiss.
They couldn’t keep this up. Who knew how much cave there was to run, but what would they do even if they managed to defeat it?
The monster was collapsing the cave behind it.
Lorian stumbled, clutching his head, blood trickling from one nostril. “It’s everywhere,” he gasped. “The echoes—there’s no space left.”
Another chamber opened ahead.
And ended.
A sheer drop swallowed by darkness on one side. Solid rock on the other. This chamber was smaller than the last, with no side tunnels and no cover.
They were cornered.
The monster filled the space behind them, tentacles unfurling like the roots of a moving mountain. The air screamed as pressure shifted, stone cracking under its advance.
Bill planted himself between it and the others without hesitation.
A tentacle wrapped around his torso and lifted him into the air.
“Cain!” Rikta screamed.
Cain activated Oath of Ash and cast another wave of fireballs.
His mana was starting to get dangerously low.
He hit the monster again. And again. And again. And again.
The monster burned.
Its flesh split. Smoke poured from it in thick, choking waves. The creature reared back, thrashing, its roar shaking the chamber as cracks spiderwebbed through the walls.
But it still wasn’t fast enough.
The chamber began to collapse.
Stone gave way overhead. Water surged in from above, flooding the floor, pulling at their legs, dragging them toward the drop.
There wasn’t enough time.
The monster reared back again.
The strike came down.
The world shattered.
And then he was falling.
Darkness swallowed everything.
***
Then a voice—soft, amused, entirely too close—whispered from nowhere.
“Oh. You really thought that was the end?”
Cain opened his eyes.
The cave was empty.
The storm was gone.
The monster was nowhere to be seen.
They were all standing—uninjured, unbroken, breath coming fast but steady.
The foxkin sat on a fallen stone nearby, legs tucked beneath her, tail swaying lazily.
“You all died,” she said cheerfully.
Then she smiled.
“Good thing that wasn’t real.”
=You have defeated (1) Voskeg Kraken=
Project Knightfall 