Chương 39: The Purge Mission

After the containment yard incident, Halbreach did not slow down. It accelerated. That was perhaps the real difference with Aurelis. In the capital, a crisis produced closed doors, councils, careful wording, important people deciding how much of the truth ought to be shown. At Halbreach, a crisis produced lists. How many wounded. How many broken cages. How many seals to remake. How many soldiers still able to walk. How much time before the east took advantage of the weakness.

That very evening, the containment yard was cleaned. The next morning, they were woken before dawn. Not gently. Three knocks against the door. A soldier entering without waiting for real consent. One sentence:"Full gear. North yard. Ten minutes." Jonah, still on his back, opened one eye.

"I have a philosophical question." The soldier looked at him.

"No."

"You don't even know which one."

"At Halbreach, before dawn, every philosophical question is an excuse to stay lying down." Jonah stayed silent for a second. Then he slowly pushed himself up.

"I hate this fortress, but I respect the consistency of its oppression." Zayn pulled on his reinforced tunic without a word. His body had not really recovered. His shoulder still pulled. His forearm still held the dull burn of the previous fights. His ribs protested with every breath that went too deep. But his soul strength was still 27. The number did not erase the pain. It did not suddenly give him the technique of a Marches soldier. It did not close the gap with Elias, Maelor, or Selka. But it was there.

And above all, it had become harder for him to forget how he had gotten it. Not because it gnawed at him enough. Because the number worked too well as a silent justification. He strapped on his daggers, fixed the sealing collar beneath his tunic, then stepped out. The corridor smelled of cold leather and morning soup. Lena was already there, pale but standing straight. Mira too, as if she had slept with her eyes open and merely decided to resume her main occupation: seeing what others hoped to hide.

Elias was checking the straps of his light armor. Jonah was finishing fastening his boots while walking, which might have been impressive if it did not mostly look like a man at war with mornings. They went down toward the north yard. Selka was already waiting there with Voss, Maelor, twelve soldiers of the Marches, and a low wagon loaded with equipment. No representative of the Crown this time. No priests. No noble observers. Good news. Or very bad news.

Selka had a rolled map in one hand and a short axe at her belt. When she saw them arrive, she did not ask whether they had slept. Of course not.

"Purge mission," she said. Jonah looked skyward.

"I withdraw my philosophical question. I already know the answer: we're being punished for surviving yesterday." Selka continued as if he did not exist, which was perhaps the most effective technique against him.

"Four kilometers southeast, there is an old mining relay: Rhel-Fosse. Abandoned since the Sixth Cycle. Sealed by the Crown, used occasionally by the Marches as a secondary watchpoint." She unrolled the map on a crate. Black lines. Tunnels. An old shaft. Three known exits. Several zones crossed out in red.

"For three nights, our patrols have heard noises beneath the structure. Yesterday, a team of three scouts did not return. Last night, a beacon sent a rupture signal." Lena tensed.

"They could still be alive?" Selka looked at her. Not coldly. Worse. With the exactness of someone who hated useless hope, but let it die on its own.

"Possible. Not likely." Elias placed a hand on the table.

"Objective?"

"Go in. Verify the source. Recover survivors if there are any. Destroy minor nests. Seal the pit if contamination exceeds level two." Mira looked at the map.

"Why us?" Selka answered immediately.

"Because you need to stop being escorted symbols. And because if Rhel-Fosse is only infested with contaminated burrowers, it's an acceptable field to learn on." Her gaze flicked briefly to Zayn.

"If it's more than that, the Marches soldiers seal the place behind you and Maelor intervenes." Zayn avoided looking at the Grand Archivist. He had read him once. 312. The number remained branded in his mind like an impossible humiliation. Even now, Maelor merely looked calm, a little tired, almost too thin beneath his black coat. Nothing in his appearance said he could resolve an unstable creature at nearly a hundred soul strength the way one closed an equation. That was perhaps the most irritating part.

Monsters at least had the decency to look monstrous. Maelor, meanwhile, looked like a man who could kill you, dissect you conceptually, write three notes on your structural error, then go back to his tea before it cooled. Zayn hated discreetly powerful people. They complicated envy. Selka tapped three points on the map.

"Three groups. Voss, four soldiers, and Jonah through the west exit to cut off the escape tunnels. Elias, Lena, Mira, and two soldiers through the main entrance. Zayn with me through the secondary shaft." Silence fell. Short. But real. Lena reacted first.

"Separate Zayn?" Selka answered:"Yes." Elias frowned.

"Why?"

"Because if all of you stay around him, I learn nothing." The sentence was brutal. Clear. Zayn might almost have appreciated it if it had not concerned him. Mira studied Selka. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You want to see how he acts without us."

"Yes."

"And if he's targeted?"

"Then we'll learn by whom and how as well." Lena opened her mouth, but Maelor spoke before she could.

"I'll remain on the surface." It was not a warm promise. It was better. A fact. Even Selka did not contest it. Lena looked at Zayn. He felt the question before it was spoken. Are you okay with this? It was almost funny. As if his agreement held real weight here. But he answered anyway:"It's fine." A lie. Not because he was afraid of being alone with Selka. Not exactly. Because part of him, too low and too honest, felt a cold excitement at the idea of being outside the immediate circle of the other four.

Less Elias on his left. Less Lena watching. Less Mira measuring. Less Jonah biting before he even had proof. Selka would see him, yes. But Selka did not watch with the same expectations. She did not want him to become better. She wanted to know what weapon or what disease she had in front of her. And that gave him angles. They left before the sun had fully climbed over the walls. No wagon this time. On foot. The road to Rhel-Fosse crossed a low gray stretch of land covered in dry grass and limestone rocks.

Halbreach remained visible behind them for nearly the whole approach, its squat silhouette on the ridge somehow even uglier from afar. To the east, the land opened toward darker, more broken lines, where the human border gradually became a succession of outposts, pits, traps, abandoned fields, and military roads. The world looked overused. Zayn walked with Selka at the head of the third group.

Two soldiers accompanied them: a square-jawed woman, 39, and a younger man, 28, with the eyes of someone trying to seem less worried than he was. Selka, 73, advanced without unnecessary noise. Zayn tried not to stare at her value. Failed. She noticed.

"You look at me like an accountant facing a debt." Zayn answered,"You give that impression to people."

"Bad answer. Too vague." He shrugged slightly.

"I was thinking."

"Even worse. People like you rarely think in other people's interests." He should have taken offense. He did not. Because she was right. They reached Rhel-Fosse just as the light became clearer. The old mining relay was not large. A low building of black stone. A collapsed tower. An inner yard overgrown with dry weeds. Several rusted rails led to a main opening that had been barricaded and partly ripped open from the inside. Farther back, an old secondary shaft descended behind a broken grate.

Claw marks covered the stone. Not enormous. Many. The values appeared almost at once beneath the ground. 4 6 5 9 3 12 A lot of small presences. More deeply: 22 And something else, lower still. Blurry. Not very readable. Zayn felt the mark beneath his collar pulse slightly. He forced his face to show nothing. Mira, on the other side of the yard, was already watching him. Even separated from him, she was still looking. Selka gave the orders with one gesture.

Jonah headed off with Voss toward the west exit, muttering that escape tunnels had far too encouraging a name for a place one had to go into. Elias, Lena, and Mira took the main entrance with two soldiers. Maelor stayed in the middle of the yard near an improvised sealing table his mages were already unfolding. Before going down, Lena came to Zayn. Not for long. Long enough.

"Be careful." He looked at her. He could have answered simply. He did not.

"For me or for the others?" She took the blow without backing away.

"For both, if you still can." Then she left. Zayn remained still for one second. Selka, already near the shaft, called out:"Touching. Ineffective, but touching." He joined her.

"You always comment on private conversations?"

"Private conversations on a purge field are a luxury. Luxuries attract the dead."

"You must be very popular at weddings."

"I don't go to weddings. Strategic alliances are enough for me." Zayn almost wanted to laugh. Almost. The secondary shaft descended through a rusted iron ladder reinforced by recent ropes. The air rising from it smelled of wet dust and something sharper. Not quite death. Not yet. Selka went down first. Zayn followed. Each rung groaned under his weight. The light from the yard shrank above him. Soon there was only close stone, metal under his fingers, and the moving values in the dark. 6 to the left. 5 lower down.

12 behind a partition. The old pit breathed. They reached a narrow gallery. Selka switched on a red lamp fixed to her shoulder. The two soldiers took position behind them. No speeches. They advanced. The first contaminated burrower sprang out after twenty meters. A small thing with an elongated body, an old tunnel beast twisted by demonic residue. Abrasive skin, clawed limbs, a mouth too wide. 5. It jumped toward the younger soldier. Zayn could have killed it. Selka was faster.

Her short axe struck in a movement so sharp the creature ended up pinned to the wall before it had finished its leap. Not a demonstration. A habit. She let the corpse slide to the ground. Zayn got nothing. Obviously. And yet he felt irritation. Even for a 5. Even for almost nothing. The mere denial of the act frustrated him. Selka looked at him.

"You wanted that one?" Bad question. Very bad. He answered,"I wanted it not to bite anyone."

"Mediocre liar."

"You ask questions you already have the answer to."

"Yes. I'm checking how quickly you lie." She moved on. The gallery widened farther down into an old rail junction. Signs of struggle marked the ground: dried blood, arrow shafts, lamp fragments, torn cloth. The missing scouts. The young soldier behind them swallowed. 28. A little more agitated now. The junction led in three directions. To the left, Zayn felt several small presences. To the right, a stronger one: 22. Straight ahead, nothing distinct. Selka stopped.

"You feel something." Not a question. Zayn froze inwardly. He had to be careful. Say too much, and she would know. Say too little, and she would know as well.

"To the right," he said. Selka turned her head toward the right-hand gallery.

"Why?"

"Noise." She was silent. Then she smiled, just slightly.

"No noise." Damn. The woman soldier at 39 looked at them without understanding. Selka did not press. Not yet. She simply raised two fingers. Right-hand direction. They advanced. The right-hand gallery descended toward an extraction room where several beams had collapsed. At the center, three bodies were hanging upside down from mining hooks. Two human. One horse or draft beast partially stripped of flesh. On the ground, small creatures gnawed at the remains, squabbling in damp squeals.

4 3 6 7 And in the back, near a crack in the stone: 22. A minor demon. Not a mere contaminated beast. You could tell from the posture. Small, barely taller than a child, but upright. Too thin. Dark gray skin, short horns, long arms ending in bony fingers. Its eyes were not animal. Not human either. It watched the bodies like an owner. When it saw them, it smiled. The young soldier murmured,"Pit demon." Selka raised her axe.

"Minor. But intelligent." The demon at 22 tilted its head. Then it did something interesting. It grabbed one of the little beasts by the neck and threw it at them. Not to win. To test. Selka cut it in half. The demon looked at Zayn. Not at Selka. At Zayn. Its smile widened. It sensed something. Not the title. Impossible. But perhaps the smell of wrong alignment. A faint resonance. A trace of familiarity. Zayn did not move. The mark beneath his collar heated up. Selka saw that too. Of course.

"Don't just stand there." The demon sprang. Not at Selka. At the young soldier. Always the weak points. Zayn had the angle. The young soldier had a value too. 28. The demon: 22. For a fraction of a second, a thought formed. If the demon killed the soldier, it would be a waste. If Zayn killed the demon, maybe +1. If Zayn let the soldier be wounded first, the demon would expose itself more. The thought was complete. Tactical. Abject. And fast. He almost followed it. Almost.

Then he felt Selka's gaze on him, even in the middle of combat. So he moved earlier. Not early enough to be graceful. Enough. He intercepted the demon mid-flight, took the impact full on the shoulder, and felt the claws open his sleeve. The demon was now less dense than he was, but more supple, more used to this kind of ground. Its fingers reached for his throat. Zayn struck with his dagger. The demon dodged. Smiled again. Then spoke in a rough language Zayn did not understand. But the tone was clear. Mockery.

He immediately hated the little thing. Not because it represented evil. Because it dared look at him as if it saw something amusing in him. Zayn attacked again. Too brutally. The demon fell back, nearly climbed the wall, then sprang at the woman soldier this time. Selka cut across its angle, forcing it back down. The other soldier thrust with his spear and barely missed. The young soldier raised his own too late. The room filled with motion. Small beasts. Rails. Hanging bodies. Old blood. And Zayn saw the opening.

The demon was passing near an empty hook. He threw his dagger not at the chest, but at the chain above. The chain dropped, the hook struck the demon's shoulder, stopped it for a fraction. Selka struck. Not fatally. The axe opened its thigh. The demon screamed. Zayn went in. This time, he did not go for the heart. He drove his knife into the wound Selka had opened, twisted, and dragged the motion downward. The demon dropped to its knees. He could finish it. He did. The blade went up beneath the jaw.

The demon stiffened. The system blinked. [Soul strength absorbed: +1] Current soul strength: 28 One. Only one. Zayn felt a dry frustration, almost comical in its absurdity. A minor demon, intelligent, upright, nearly speaking, and the world gave him one miserable point. Crime paid badly. War too. Even the universe seemed to have a punitive tax policy. He pulled his blade free. The demon collapsed. Selka was watching him.

"You finished it quickly."

"You'd have preferred it keep going?"

"No." She stepped closer.

"I prefer knowing why you waited for that hook." Zayn wiped his knife.

"Because it moved too much."

"Good answer." Then, after a second:"This time." The woman soldier and the younger man took the bodies down from the hooks. Two scouts. Dead since yesterday at least. Selka's face did not change, but her voice lowered.

"We take them back up." Zayn looked at the corpses. No values. No immediate interest. Then he noticed his own lack of reaction. Again. Mira would probably have seen something. Lena would have gone pale. Elias would have closed his eyes for one second. He, on the other hand, was mostly looking at the surrounding tunnels, the remaining presences, the possible gains, the risks, the angles. Selka stepped close enough to speak more quietly.

"You see, that's what interests me." He looked at her.

"What?"

"Not that you're cruel. Cruel idiots die fast. Not that you're a coward. Cowards are predictable." She gestured toward the corpses.

"It's that you look at the dead like they're pieces already emptied out. And at the living like things still usable." Zayn said nothing. Because she was too close. Again. Selka started walking.

"Move. There's a stronger value lower down, isn't there?" This time, he genuinely stopped. She did not turn around.

"Don't worry. I don't know exactly what you see." Then she turned her head slightly.

"But I know when someone is counting." The silence in the tunnel narrowed. Lower down, behind the central gallery, the blurry value from earlier shifted again. Not fully readable. Not as huge as Maelor. Not unstable like the containment-yard beast. Something between the stones. Zayn narrowed his eyes. The value finally came clear. 47 Selka saw his face change.

"There." She raised her axe.

"Now we'll find out whether Rhel-Fosse was a purge… or an invitation." At that exact moment, far inside the mine, a scream echoed. Not a beast's. Lena's. Zayn turned toward the sound at once. Selka did too. And in the darkness of the gallery, the surviving lesser values began running in every direction, as if something had just woken up beneath Rhel-Fosse. The purge mission had just stopped being light.