The second layer of the Dova Mine lay wrapped in a suffocating silence. The underground of the silver mine, abandoned for twenty years, wept moisture from its stone walls—black and slick. The small light stone in hand, a Mana crystal lamp, cast a pale glow across the rock face, but beyond that pale radius lay only darkness, swallowing everything. The air was cold. It carried the smell of mud and iron mixed together, a scent that clung to the lungs. Valdo pressed his back against the far wall of the passage, studying the map in his hands. Three hours since they'd crawled out of Golda. All three of them, caked in mud, had walked this far. The map wasn't paper—it existed only in his mind. Three years of memory, carved into the stone of his consciousness: the geography of this region, the structure of the Dova Mine itself. The first layer was collapsing, but there remained gaps narrow enough for a single person to squeeze through. The second layer held supplies—food and water cached long ago. They could survive days here. The problem lay beyond. Near the mine entrance, torchlight flickered. Valdo eased his face around the corner of the slope leading to the second layer and looked upward. Three members of the Orgrim Organization stood at equal intervals in the field beyond Golda's outer wall. They held torches. They watched the mine's entrance and exit. Not a patrol. A fixed position. A full blockade was beginning. *They're just buying time.* Valdo returned down the slope and lowered himself beside Soana and Rigo. Soana sat on a collapsed stone shelf, her sword hilt gripped in one hand, her arms folded across her chest. Dark purple hair clung to her forehead with sweat. The wound on her left cheek stood out sharply in the light stone's glow. Her eyes held a mixture of anger and desperation—the same expression she'd worn since they fled Golda. Rigo sat against the mine wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His short crimson hair was disheveled. His sharp red eyes remained open, but their focus had begun to drift. Sweat continued to pour from him. Even in the dim light, Valdo could see the dampness soaking through the back of his clothes. Since leaving Golda, Rigo's complexion had been steadily worsening. Valdo watched his face in silence. He knew the effects were reaching their limit. Three years—nearly every day—of using Nulglass, the eye drops that temporarily transformed a demon's amber or crimson gaze to human colors. Nulglass was a medicinal herb that once grew wild in the mountain ranges south of Dorgana. Now it could only be found on the black market. Two gold coins per dose. He had poured that into a child's body for three years. What the accumulated compounds might do, Valdo didn't know in detail. But Rigo's current state was clearly wrong. Midnight came. Rigo collapsed while Valdo was constructing his next move in his mind. A dull thud. Valdo's head snapped up. Rigo lay on his side, still hugging his knees, surrendered to gravity. Soana sprang to her feet and rushed to him. "[scared]Rigo!" The moment her hand touched his forehead, Soana's face went rigid. His body burned like flame. His breathing was shallow and rapid. Heat radiated clearly from Rigo's form as he lay on the stone floor. Soana turned back to Valdo. "[serious]We go back to the city. I'll get medicine." "[cold]No." Valdo spoke immediately. Not a moment's hesitation. "[serious]Until dawn, the Organization's soldiers will seal every exit. If we go out now, we're captured. If we're captured, we're dead." "[angry]So you want me to just watch him die?!" Soana's voice echoed through the mine. It struck the stone walls, bounced back, reached their ears a second time. Valdo didn't answer. Couldn't answer—that was more accurate. Soana's anger was justified. Logic couldn't counter it. Only Rigo's breathing sounded in the space between the stone walls. "[angry]It's just one herb. Five minutes there and back. Not through the main exit—through the drainage tunnel we used yesterday—" "[cold]There are soldiers. Last night the positions changed. They're covering the drainage tunnel too." "But—" "[cold]You'll just die." He said it quietly. His voice held no emotion. That very flatness stopped Soana's words. Soana gripped Rigo's shoulder and bit her lip. Her emerald eyes glistened. Whether from anger, frustration, or something else, Valdo couldn't determine. Rigo's breathing grew shallower still. --- Valdo stared into the dark stone wall. Three years. He had prepared for this day. He had hidden himself as a Hauler—a porter—gathering intelligence, reading the movements of the Orgrim Organization, assembling evidence of Drake's corruption. A plan to expose the kingdom's rot from within. Built piece by piece. Three years of suppressing emotion, looking only forward. All of it had vanished in a single night. The evidence. The safe house. The maps carved into walls. Nothing remained. Only this mine, the collapsed boy, and the woman glaring at him. The marks on both his wrists throbbed dully. Grave Chain—the seal marks burned into Valdo's wrists, inscribed with an ancient binding ritual that Elioth had extracted from forgotten ruins. A seal that blocked ninety-five percent of Mana flow. If he had magic, he could blow away this entire siege right now. He could lower Rigo's fever. But he couldn't use it. For three years, he hadn't been able to. Valdo struck the wall. The sound wasn't loud. Just a bare-handed blow against stone. Once. The skin on his knuckles split. Blood seeped into the rock. He struck again. He wanted to scream. But his throat wouldn't move. No sound came. Three years of killing his emotions. Rage, sorrow, despair—he had compressed it all, sealed it away. That seal had just come loose, silently. Valdo pressed his bleeding fist against the wall and couldn't move. Soana watched him. The man who had never shown emotion, no matter what happened, was breaking for the first time. Seeing it, Soana found she had nothing to say. She swallowed her anger, swallowed her words. In the silence, only Rigo's thin breathing continued. "...It's not over yet." The voice was small, hoarse. Valdo turned. Rigo lay on his side, looking at him. The focus in his red eyes was unfixed. But his mouth moved. "...Dark Lord." "[serious]Don't speak. Don't waste your strength." "[whispers]Please listen." Rigo continued. "[whispers]At the far north of the continent...beyond the Ash Wastes, there are demons who survived. Thousands of them. More than ten settlements. They're scattered, but they stay connected." Valdo's hand fell from the stone wall. "[whispers]For three years since Dorgana burned...they've been waiting for you to come back. That's why I came searching. Not for myself. For them." Thousands. Valdo repeated the word in his mind. Survivors. Beyond the Ash Wastes. Waiting for three years. Believing Valdo would return. In that single sentence, Valdo understood why Rigo had come to Golda alone. This boy hadn't moved for himself. For three years, he had searched for Valdo alone, for thousands of nameless lives. Valdo knelt beside Rigo. He had thought revenge alone kept him alive. That his rage at Elioth was the only reason. But the reality of waiting lives stirred something else within him, something in a different place. *There is something to protect.* Defeating Elioth and saving his people—they had always been the same thing. That was all. "[serious]I understand." He said it shortly, then looked at both his wrists. The Grave Chain marks. The seal burning Mana away. Five percent remained. A sliver of power usable even in this sealed state. Complete healing was impossible. But suppressing acute fever, keeping life hanging on—there was a chance it might be enough. The cost would be steep. Unconsciousness, or worse. It didn't matter. Valdo held his hand over Rigo's chest. He wrung out Mana. He forced the remnants of sealed power to the surface. A deep, burning sensation. The seal marks seared. Pain shot through both wrists—a burning, an internal tearing. The skin reddened. The seal lines began to glow. Valdo clenched his teeth and didn't pull his hand away. Healing magic—the technique of using Mana to suppress bodily abnormalities—wasn't something every demon could perform. What Valdo had once learned was power for combat, but as a king protecting his people, he had grasped the fundamentals. It was incomplete. Far from the efficacy of medicine. Still, he could draw out the fever. Minutes passed. Rigo's breathing deepened gradually. The shallow rise and fall of his chest slowed, settled. Soana, who had been touching his forehead, let out a small sound. "[surprised]The fever..." Valdo withdrew his hand. Strength drained from him. His knees buckled. He caught himself against the wall before falling. His vision swam. The light stone's glow blurred. He was on the edge of unconsciousness. Soana grabbed his arm. The seal marks on both wrists glowed faintly. The burned skin remained red. Soana looked at those marks, then at Valdo's face. "[serious]...You can use magic." Valdo didn't answer. He leaned against the wall, breathing slowly, steadying himself. Rigo's eyes were half-closed. His breathing was calm. The fever hadn't completely broken, but he had pulled back from that dangerous edge. "[whispers]...Thank you." His voice was still hoarse. But his mind was clear. Valdo pushed himself upright. Slowly, hand on the wall. The swaying in his vision gradually subsided. *I can still move. I can still move.* He looked toward the depths of the mine. In his memory, there was one possibility. From the time he was a Dark Lord. More than thirty years ago, the mines south of Dorgana had connected to the underground around Golda through old extraction tunnels. The maps from that era lived in his mind. Whether they were still usable, he didn't know. They might have collapsed. They might be completely buried. But there was no other choice. Valdo took the light stone and moved toward the deepest part of the second layer. His hand trailed along the wall. Crumbling rocks scattered beneath his feet. His ankles ached with each step. He didn't care. He reached the far wall. His hand traced the stone seams. He followed the memory from thirty years past. This shape, this angle, this slope—it should be here. He pressed one section of the wall. Nothing happened at first. He pressed again, from a different angle. A grinding sensation. The stone shifted. It moved inward, as if being drawn in. A vertical shaft appeared, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through sideways. Beyond was darkness. He held the light stone into it. A hollow space continued downward. Valdo turned back toward Soana. "[serious]Carry Rigo on your back. I'll go first." Soana hoisted Rigo onto her back. She didn't protest. Rigo's thin arms wrapped around her neck, gripping firmly. Where the shaft led, no one knew. Whether it was safe, no one could say. Valdo himself, near his limit, could only take the lead. That was all. Valdo held one light stone and slid his body into the shaft. Stone walls pressed close on both sides. Cold air enveloped his face. Toward the darkness ahead—toward whatever lay beyond—Valdo began to move.