​The tunnel behind the Hive Mind’s nest offered a different sensation entirely.

​The rough, jagged stone walls gradually softened, transitioning into layers of concrete—smooth, cold, with joints between plates so seamless they were almost impossible to feel. The mine rails that had accompanied their every step vanished, replaced by a flat, dark floor. The air grew drier, stinging the nostrils as the temperature plummeted. And at the end of the corridor, something they hadn’t encountered in a long time greeted them.

​Light.

​It wasn’t sunlight, nor was it the glow of mana. This light was dim, bluish, and flickered unstable like a dying candle. Yet, for eyes forced to swallow absolute darkness for hours, that glow felt as warm as dawn.

​Rianor stepped out of the tunnel’s mouth, his breath forming a white mist. "We’ve arrived."

​Before them stretched a magnificent dead city.

​Skyscrapers soared high, piercing the dark ceiling of the cavern until their peaks were swallowed by shadows. Wide asphalt roads sprawled out, decorated with faded white lines that might have once guided horseless vehicles. Here and there, metallic husks gnawed by rust sat in silence—cars, trucks, and mechanical shapes no longer recognizable. Street lamps stood tall like rows of loyal soldiers, though not a single one was lit.

​Arvid followed close behind. He froze, then with a mechanical motion, took off his glasses and wiped them vigorously with the hem of his robe. Scritch... scritch... Once they were back on, his fingers holding his notebook trembled slightly—not out of fear, but from an overwhelming sense of wonder.

​"This... is the lost civilization." His voice was almost lost in a whisper. "I’ve only ever read about it in ancient manuscripts. Faded records. But to see it for myself..." He looked up, staring at the rows of giant concrete structures. "They built all this without magic, Rianor. Without a single drop of mana. Only with pure intellect."

​Rianor stood motionless beside him. He had set foot in this city five years ago during that bloody first expedition. Yet, something still squeezed his chest every time he looked at these ruins. It wasn’t just admiration, nor was it fear. It was something deeper—respect mingled with the bitter sting of loss. The people who built a civilization this grand ended up dead, betrayed, and erased from history.

​"We don’t have much time for nostalgia," Rianor broke the silence, his voice cold again. "Thorne, form a formation. Dom, monitor the upper sectors. Khulafa, guard the rear. Don’t let anything tail us."

​They began to walk down the main street. Their boots created a tap-tap rhythm that bounced off the buildings, creating echoes that felt like the footsteps of others following them. The scent here was different—no longer the smell of damp earth, but a dry, sterile odor. Dust, old metal, and the remnants of ozone.

​On their left and right lay the husks of vehicles. Some were still relatively intact—metal boxes with rubber wheels that had hardened and cracked. On a cracked wall, a giant billboard still hung precariously. Though its colors had faded with time, the text was still legible:

​"PROJECT LEGION — OUR FUTURE."

​Beneath the text, a picture of a man and a woman in clean white lab coats posed in front of a giant machine that looked alien to Arvid. Their faces wore wide smiles. Full of hope.

​"Hmm, they didn’t know," Arvid murmured bitterly, staring at the eternal smiles on that board. "They really had no idea what was about to befall them."

​They had only been walking for about ten minutes when a sound split the silence.

​It wasn’t footsteps, nor was it the roar of an organic monster. This sound was high-pitched and mechanical—like the hum of a bee amplified thousands of times. Whirrrrr... whirrrrr...

​Khulafa tensed instantly, his weapon raised. "Contact! Upper sector, twelve o’clock!"

​From behind the roof of a building in front of them, four metal spheres glided down. They were only about the size of a human head, with shiny surfaces reflecting the soldiers’ helmet lights. In the center of each sphere, a red eye glowed—moving wildly to scan for targets.

​Watcher Drones.

​"Those are surveillance units," Rianor called out. "They’ll send our coordinates to the central defense system. Quick, take them down before the data is transmitted!"

​Dom and Khulafa immediately took aim. However, the drones moved with extreme agility—weaving zig-zag and bobbing up and down like insects dodging a swat.

​"Tsk, their movement is too erratic! Hard to lock on!" Dom grumbled.

​"Aim for the eyes!" Rianor commanded sharply. "Their primary sensors are there!"

​Thung! Thung!

​Two Gauss shots barked. One drone immediately lurched—its eye shattering into pieces, sparking before slamming onto the asphalt. However, the other three instantly scattered at higher speeds. One of them fired a thin red laser beam toward the infantry line. A soldier in the front quickly raised his shield. Cshhh! The beam left a smoking black mark on the steel surface of his shield.

​Riven moved without a word. His mechanical axe roared to life—Vrooom! He leaped onto the hood of a wrecked car, using it as a stepping stone to lunge at a low-flying drone. With one horizontal sweep, the drone was cleaved in two, clanging onto the asphalt with crackling remnants of electricity.

​The two remaining drones tried to escape toward the roofs. However, Dom and Naya had already pulled their triggers. Two small explosions decorated the cavern ceiling. The metallic wreckage fell helplessly.

​Silence fell once more.

​Thorne approached the soldier who had been hit by the laser. "Is your arm okay?"

​"I’m fine, My Lord. Just a scratch on the shield."

​Rianor nodded curtly. "Those were just surveillance units. The bigger ones will be waiting inside." He pointed toward a central building at the end of the street—a grand structure with glass doors that had long since shattered. "The main laboratory. That is where the secrets of Project Legion are buried."

​They entered the building with full alertness.

​The lobby was vast, with marble floors now covered in thick dust and broken glass. In a corner, a human skeleton sat stiffly in a receptionist’s chair. It still wore a rotted office uniform. An ID badge still hung from its chest, reading: "E. VANCE — ADMINISTRATION."

​Arvid stopped for a moment, looking at the skeleton with pity. "My... they weren’t even scientists or soldiers. Just ordinary administrative staff. They died right at their own desks."

​"The betrayal happened that fast," Rianor said flatly. "They were never given the chance to even try and run."

​They climbed the stairs toward the second floor. The corridors here were much darker; the emergency lights on the ceiling had long since died. Only the beams from their helmet lamps cut through the gloom. To their left and right, doors stood wide open, revealing desks still piled with ancient papers. In several rooms, they found human skeletons in tragic positions—some huddled alone, others appearing to embrace one another in their final moments.

​Arvid entered one room where the door was halfway open. On a dusty desk, a notebook remained open. The writing used the same ancient script found in the Silent City. Arvid read it in a low, trembling voice:

​"Day 47. Orion has entered the final stage. Neural synchronization reached 94%. He is able to move Legion Prime perfectly. But there are side effects... he often complains of severe headaches. Nightmares. He says he can hear strange voices from inside the machine. I’m starting to worry, but Orion only smiles. ’This is the risk,’ he says. ’I’ve known it from the start.’"

​Arvid closed the book gently, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "They all knew, Rianor. They knew the stakes, yet they chose to step forward anyway."

​Rianor fell silent. In his mind, shadows of the past began to swirl. These people—scientists, volunteers, even the oblivious staff—all perished. Not because they failed in their experiments, but because the world outside was too terrified of the power they had created.

​"They weren’t brought down by an enemy," Rianor whispered hoarsely. "But stabbed in the back by those they considered friends."

​At the end of the corridor, a pair of heavy metal doors stood firm with a plaque reading: "MAIN LABORATORY — RESTRICTED ACCESS."

​Once inside, they were greeted by a far more massive room. Long tables were lined up neatly, filled with alien equipment—glass tubes containing murky fluid, coils of cables, and dead monitors. In the center of the room, a giant data terminal still stood tall despite its cracked screen.

​"Arvid, do your part," Rianor ordered while taking out The Sentinel’s Mana Core.

​Arvid immediately connected his crystal tablet to the data terminal. As soon as Rianor pressed the Mana Core to the access panel, the screen flickered violently. Bzzzzt... bzzzt... Rows of ancient text began to appear, automatically translated by Arvid’s system.

​"FILE FOUND: PROJECT LEGION PRIME. PILOT: ORION. STATUS: STASIS. ACCESS LEVEL: HIGHEST."

​Rianor touched the cracked screen. A video recording began to play—the initially blurry image gradually sharpened. A man with black hair and a sharp gaze appeared. He wore a sleek pilot’s suit, a stark contrast to the heavy armor of the current age. That was Orion.

​"If you are seeing this recording," Orion’s voice crackled through the broken speakers, "it means I am no longer in this world. Or, you have managed to find this place that should have been forgotten. Whoever you are... know one thing: we do not regret it. We created Legion to fight the Darkness, to protect the world. But the world turned against us instead. They were afraid... and fear is an enemy far deadlier than the Darkness itself."

​Arvid’s eyes began to tear up hearing that testament. "Hah... he truly anticipated it."

​Rianor was about to reply, but a sound from outside stopped him.

​THUD. THUD. THUD.

​Footsteps of immense weight made the entire room vibrate. Dust fell from the ceiling.

​Thorne instantly spun toward the door, his weapon drawn. "Something big is approaching!"

​Riven turned his mechanical axe back on, its roar a threatening growl. "Not something. Someone who guards this place."

​CRASH!

​The thick metal laboratory doors were torn from their hinges, slamming into the floor until it cracked. From the darkness of the corridor, a giant stepped inside. It stood six meters tall, its entire body encased in pitch-black steel plates reflecting red light from its eyes. In its right hand, it dragged a demolition hammer that surpassed the size of a normal human body.

​JUGGERNAUT.

​"INTRUDERS. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH," its mechanical baritone voice boomed, vibrating the ribs of anyone listening. "DEFENSE PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED. TARGET: ELIMINATE!"

​The giant hammer was raised into the air, and the room’s atmosphere instantly turned into a death zone. The real battle had only just begun.