Chapter 174
Marcus studied the map one final time before returning his attention to the avenue below.
The procession had not slowed.
Workers continued moving toward the Central Works in organized groups, each column carrying a different set of tools and materials. Some hauled timber, others pushed ore carts, while several teams carried heavy iron chains wound around wooden spools. The Collectors moved among them with practiced precision, redirecting traffic whenever two groups approached the same junction.
Nothing about the scene resembled chaos.
That made it more dangerous.
An enemy camp could be disrupted.
A disorganized nest could be destroyed.
This place functioned like a machine.
Every person, tunnel, and shipment served a specific purpose. Destroying one section might only cause the rest of the system to adjust around the damage.
Marcus stepped away from the observation slit.
"We’ve seen enough."
Cole lowered the compact camera.
"We heading back?"
"Not yet."
Tomas looked toward the map pouch attached to Marcus’s vest.
"We already have evidence."
"We have proof that something exists down here," Marcus said. "We still don’t know what it is."
He pointed toward the central region of the map.
"We came to locate the missing caravan and determine what the Collectors were doing beneath the mountain. We found the people. Now we need to know why they’re digging."
Selvar’s expression tightened.
"The Central Works will be heavily guarded."
"Probably."
"And if we are discovered?"
Marcus checked the ammunition counter displayed along the side of his rifle.
"Then the mission changes."
No one asked what that meant.
They already knew.
Marcus moved toward the rear wall where a narrow stairway descended from the old guard station. The steps appeared less worn than those leading into the city, suggesting the route received limited use. A faded symbol had been painted beside the entrance, though most of it had peeled away with age.
Selvar crouched to inspect it.
"Maintenance route."
"Where does it lead?"
Selvar glanced at the map still spread across the table.
"If this room is where I think it is, the passage should connect to an older service corridor running beneath the main avenue."
Marcus nodded.
"Better than walking through the crowd."
Cole closed the cabinet of work tablets and moved into position behind him.
The team descended.
The stairway continued for nearly thirty meters before ending inside a low corridor lined with cracked bricks. Unlike the maintained passages above, this section had been neglected. Roots pushed through sections of the ceiling, and loose stone covered the floor. The air smelled colder here, carrying traces of mineral dust and stagnant water.
Marcus activated the thermal optic mounted on his rifle.
The corridor ahead remained empty.
He raised one hand and advanced.
Their boots made almost no sound against the damp stone. Each operator stepped where the man ahead had stepped, avoiding loose fragments that might shift under their weight.
After several minutes, the corridor divided.
One path continued downward.
The other curved toward the center of the city.
Marcus checked the copied map stored in Cole’s handheld device.
"Right."
They followed the turn.
The vibrations beneath the ground returned before they had traveled another hundred meters.
This time, they did not fade immediately.
A deep shudder moved through the tunnel walls, strong enough to dislodge several pieces of mortar. Fine dust poured from the ceiling while water inside the drainage channels trembled in small waves.
Tomas pressed one hand against the wall.
"That’s closer."
Marcus watched the dust settle.
"Or stronger."
A distant sound followed.
It was not a bell.
It began as a low metallic groan, like massive plates grinding against each other deep beneath the earth. The noise continued for several seconds, growing louder until the entire corridor seemed to resonate with it.
Then it stopped.
Selvar looked toward the darkness ahead.
"What could make that sound?"
"No idea," Marcus replied.
Cole glanced upward.
"Whatever it is, the people above didn’t stop working."
That was true.
Even through several meters of stone, Marcus could still hear the muffled movement of carts along the avenue. The workers had not panicked. No alarms had sounded.
The tremor was normal to them.
That troubled him more than the sound itself.
The team continued forward until the corridor ended at a reinforced iron door.
Marcus examined the frame.
The surrounding masonry was ancient, but the door was not.
Fresh weld lines ran along its hinges. Heavy rivets held thick metal plates together, and a narrow viewing slit had been built near eye level.
Someone had installed it recently.
Marcus gestured toward Tomas.
The operator moved beside the door and produced a flexible inspection camera from his equipment pouch. He guided the lens through a narrow gap near the lower hinge and activated the small display attached to his wrist.
The image flickered.
A larger chamber appeared on the other side.
Pipes ran across the ceiling.
Wooden scaffolds surrounded several stone pillars.
A group of workers stood beside a large mechanical winch built from timber, iron gears, and thick rope. Two Collectors watched from a raised platform while a robed human read from a wax tablet.
Tomas adjusted the camera.
"There are twelve people inside."
"Collectors?"
"Two visible."
"Other exits?"
Tomas rotated the lens.
"One doorway across the chamber. Another stairway leading up."
Marcus studied the image.
The workers appeared tired, but none showed signs of injury. Several wore leather gloves and cloth masks over their mouths. Fine black dust covered their robes.
The winch dominated the center of the room.
Its rope passed through a circular opening in the floor.
Something heavy hung below.
Marcus leaned closer to the display.
"Can you see what they’re lifting?"
"Negative."
The robed overseer raised one hand.
The workers began turning the winch.
The gears moved slowly.
The rope tightened.
A strained creaking filled the chamber as the mechanism pulled something upward from beneath the floor.
One worker stumbled.
Another caught him before he fell.
The Collectors did not react.
They watched the opening.
The rope continued rising.
Foot after foot emerged from the darkness below, coated in a thick black substance that reflected the lantern light like oil.
Then something appeared at the edge of the opening.
At first Marcus mistook it for stone.
It was dark, angular, and large enough that three workers had to guide it between the surrounding beams.
The object rose higher.
Black metal.
Not iron.
Not steel.
Its surface was perfectly smooth despite being buried underground, and faint lines glowed beneath it in a pattern Marcus had seen before.
The same pattern covered the monument.
Selvar’s breathing changed.
"What is that?"
Marcus did not answer.
The workers pulled the object completely from the shaft.
It resembled a section of armor.
A curved plate.
Nearly three meters across.
And attached to its inner surface were thick cables that twitched like severed nerves.
One of the workers stepped too close.
A cable snapped outward.
It wrapped around his wrist.
The man screamed.
The chamber erupted into sudden movement.
The other workers released the winch and tried to pull him free, but the cable tightened. Black veins spread beneath the man’s skin, racing up his arm toward his shoulder.
Marcus instinctively reached for the binocular attachment clipped to the side of his plate carrier. The magnified optics brought the object into sharper focus, revealing details the inspection camera had struggled to capture.
It wasn’t forged.
At least, not by any method he understood.
The surface lacked hammer marks, casting seams, rivets, or welds. Instead, the entire curved plate appeared to have been formed as a single piece. Its matte-black finish absorbed the lantern light rather than reflecting it, making it seem almost like a hole carved into reality rather than solid material.
Thin grooves spread across its surface in intricate geometric patterns.
Some intersected one another at perfect angles while others curved gracefully around the edges, creating an enormous network of lines that reminded Marcus of printed circuit boards. Every few seconds, a faint pulse of pale blue light traveled through the grooves before fading once more.
He had seen those markings before.
On the monument.
The patterns were identical.
That realization sent a chill through him.
Whatever the workers had recovered hadn’t merely come from beneath the black structure.
It belonged to it.
Tomas adjusted the inspection camera again, zooming in as far as the tiny lens allowed.
"There are markings along the inner edge."
Marcus leaned closer.
"They look like numbers."
Selvar narrowed his eyes before quietly shaking his head.
"Not numbers."
"What are they?"
"I don’t know."
The elf’s normally calm voice carried an unfamiliar uncertainty.
"I’ve never seen writing like that. Not in the libraries. Not in the royal archives."
Marcus continued watching as several workers carefully brushed away the thick layer of black dust coating the object. None of them treated it like an ordinary artifact. Every movement was slow, deliberate, almost reverent, as though years of experience had taught them that even the slightest mistake carried consequences.
Something about that caution unsettled Marcus far more than the artifact itself.
These people weren’t excavating ruins anymore.
They were uncovering something they still didn’t fully understand.