Chapter 170
Nobody spoke for nearly a full minute.
The underground city stretched beyond anything Atlas had imagined when they first descended through the ruined watchtower. Even through binoculars, Marcus could not see its far edge. Streets disappeared into darkness before reappearing beneath hundreds of flickering braziers. Crumbling towers leaned against one another like exhausted giants, while broad plazas had become work yards crowded with chained prisoners. Ancient statues stood with broken faces, their shoulders draped in thick strands of pale fungal growth, silently watching over a civilization that had died long before the kingdoms above ever existed.
The rhythmic pounding never stopped.
It echoed through every district of the city.
Metal striking something impossibly hard.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Marcus lowered his binoculars and slowly backed away from the overlook until the entire assault team gathered inside the shadow of the corridor. The Hollow Road had ended at a natural balcony overlooking the buried metropolis nearly eighty meters below. Thick stone columns surrounded the overlook, leaving the team completely concealed unless someone stood too close to the edge.
Tomas unfolded a waterproof notebook.
"Observation post established."
Marcus nodded.
"No unnecessary movement. Lights stay off."
The engineers immediately began setting up the position. One relay antenna disappeared behind a collapsed pillar while another soldier quietly unrolled camouflage netting across the rear of the overlook to hide any accidental reflections from equipment. Every precaution mattered. They had no idea how sharp the Collectors’ senses were at this distance.
Selvar cautiously returned to the edge after Marcus signaled it was safe.
His face had lost what little color remained.
"Our elders..." he whispered. "They weren’t lying."
"No."
"They said there was a city."
Marcus looked back toward the ruins.
"There is."
Nella’s father, one of the Millhome volunteers assisting with translation, crossed himself before looking away. Like many of the Underroad survivors, he had grown up believing the buried city existed somewhere beyond the forbidden passages. It had become a story used to frighten children away from dangerous tunnels.
Now the story stood before him.
Only it was far worse.
Sergeant Cole carefully assembled a compact spotting scope and adjusted the focus until the central district became clear.
"You should see this."
Marcus stepped beside him.
The larger lens revealed details impossible to distinguish through binoculars alone.
The city had once been magnificent.
Broad avenues paved with black stone divided districts filled with multistory buildings whose architecture differed from anything Marcus had seen on the surface. Elegant arches connected rooftops. Water channels still flowed beneath carved bridges. Decorative gardens had long since become forests of pale fungus, yet traces of deliberate landscaping remained visible beneath the overgrowth.
Then came the signs of occupation.
Wooden scaffolding covered entire streets.
Ancient buildings had been stripped apart for timber.
Defensive walls of bone, broken stone, and salvaged bronze divided neighborhoods into separate compounds.
Most disturbing of all were the prisoners.
Marcus counted nearly two hundred in the nearest district alone.
Some hauled overloaded carts through the streets while others operated primitive cranes assembled from scavenged beams. Groups of chained workers disappeared into enormous excavation sites before emerging hours later carrying baskets filled with broken stone. Every work party moved beneath the watchful eyes of armed Collectors.
"They’re organized," Tomas said quietly.
Marcus continued watching.
"They’re more than organized."
The workers changed shifts.
Water was distributed.
Empty carts moved one direction while loaded carts returned another.
Signals passed between Collector guards through rapid clicking patterns.
The entire city functioned like a military logistics operation.
Nothing appeared random.
Rolf adjusted another spotting scope toward the western quarter.
"I found something."
Everyone nearby shifted toward him.
"There."
He pointed toward a large building overlooking one of the plazas.
The structure had once resembled a courthouse or government hall before centuries of neglect scarred its exterior. Unlike the surrounding ruins, however, this building remained occupied.
Several larger Collectors stood outside the entrance.
Marcus focused carefully.
These creatures differed from the hunters encountered near the surface.
Their armor appeared darker, thicker, and more layered across the shoulders. Instead of the hooked forelimbs carried by ordinary Collectors, these possessed heavier limbs ending in broad crushing claws.
"Different caste," Marcus murmured.
Tomas nodded.
"Guards."
The larger Collectors rarely moved.
Instead, they observed everything around them while smaller creatures carried out most tasks. Whenever a work gang slowed, one guard clicked sharply without leaving its position. Immediately the smaller Collectors responded, driving prisoners back to work.
Hierarchy.
Command structure.
Marcus made another note.
A second discovery followed moments later.
One of the engineers studying the southern district quietly raised his hand.
"Commander."
Marcus joined him.
"What did you find?"
The engineer pointed toward a broad avenue leading away from the central excavation.
"No chains."
Marcus looked closer.
He immediately understood.
Not every human underground wore restraints.
Several figures walked freely between buildings carrying bundles of tools and baskets of food. They wore worn gray clothing unlike either the surface captives or Underroad residents. Most appeared thinner than the prisoners but moved without visible supervision.
"Civilians?" Tomas guessed.
Selvar slowly shook his head.
"No."
"What?"
"They wear servant robes."
"You’ve seen them before?"
"In drawings."
Selvar kept watching.
"Our oldest stories said some people served the city rulers."
Marcus frowned.
"These aren’t ancient."
"No."
"They’re alive."
Silence settled once again.
Whoever those people were, they lived permanently inside the buried city.
Prisoners eventually became servants.
Or collaborators.
Neither possibility improved the situation.
Marcus directed another spotting scope toward the central excavation.
At first it looked like a quarry.
Then the true shape gradually emerged.
The excavation surrounded an enormous black structure rising from the earth itself.
It wasn’t natural rock.
Its surfaces were too smooth.
Too straight.
Too deliberate.
Massive metal walls emerged from beneath centuries of accumulated stone, disappearing into the darkness above and below. Ancient support pillars leaned against its sides where the surrounding city had partially collapsed over time.
The Collectors had excavated almost halfway around it.
Yet the structure continued farther underground.
Marcus estimated only a fraction remained exposed.
"That’s not a wall," Cole said quietly.
"No."
Marcus agreed.
"It’s part of a building."
Even at this distance its scale defied belief.
No medieval kingdom should have possessed the capability to construct something that large beneath solid rock.
Unless...
It predated every known civilization.
The constant pounding echoed directly from its base.
Hundreds of prisoners swung heavy picks against exposed sections while Collectors hauled away debris. Sparks occasionally flashed where metal struck the black surface, but nothing seemed to damage it.
"They’re trying to open it," Tomas said.
Marcus nodded slowly.
"And failing."
Whatever lay inside had resisted centuries of excavation.
Yet the Collectors continued.
Hour after hour.
Day after day.
Perhaps year after year.
Rolf shifted his binoculars again.
"I found our six."
Marcus immediately joined him.
The remaining civilians occupied a work gang near the eastern edge of the excavation. Dirty, exhausted, and painfully thin, they nevertheless remained alive. Two struggled to pull a heavily loaded cart while the others chipped away at collapsed stone surrounding the black structure.
One man stumbled.
A nearby Collector struck him across the back with its forelimb.
The prisoner slowly climbed to his feet and resumed working.
Marcus watched for another thirty seconds before lowering the binoculars.
"They’re alive."
"For now," Tomas replied.
The commander unfolded the city sketch prepared from Emil’s testimony and compared it with their observations.
The six civilians stood almost six hundred meters from Atlas’s current position.
Between them lay:
Three occupied plazas.
At least two hundred visible Collectors.
Unknown numbers inside surrounding buildings.
Open streets with virtually no cover.
A direct assault would become suicide long before reaching the prisoners.
Marcus looked toward Sergeant Cole.
"Alternative routes."
The engineer immediately began studying the city through the spotting scope.
"The drainage canals."
Marcus followed his gaze.
Ancient waterways crossed beneath several districts before disappearing into tunnels beneath the buildings. Many had partially collapsed, but some remained large enough for people to crawl through.
Cole continued.
"The rooftops also connect."
Indeed they did.
Stone archways and elevated walkways linked numerous upper floors together, allowing movement above street level.
Tomas added another observation.
"Guard towers."
Several ancient watchtowers overlooked major intersections. Though partially ruined, many still provided commanding views across entire districts.
Marcus slowly smiled.
The buried city had been designed for defense.
That meant defenders had required hidden movement routes.
Supply corridors.
Messenger passages.
Emergency escape tunnels.
If Atlas could identify those forgotten routes before the Collectors did...
They might cross half the city unseen.
A sudden burst of clicking interrupted his thoughts.
Every Collector within sight froze simultaneously.
Workers stopped.
Carts halted.
Even the larger guards turned toward the black structure.
The entire city fell silent.
Then...
It happened.
A deep vibration rolled through the cavern.
Not an explosion.
Not a collapse.
Something... resonated.
The black structure produced a low metallic hum powerful enough to make loose dust fall from the overlook ceiling.
Every prisoner lowered their heads.
Every Collector remained perfectly still.
The humming lasted only five seconds.
Then it ended.
Work resumed immediately.
Marcus exchanged a glance with Tomas.
"You felt that?"
Tomas nodded.
"So did they."
Nobody knew what had caused the vibration.
But one fact had become painfully clear.
Whatever the Collectors were excavating...
It was still active.