Chapter 646: Claws in the Dark Below (1)
The air cracked with a tension so thick it felt like a live wire humming between Mikhailis and Thalatha. Roots shrieked as they tore away from the ravine walls, showering splinters the size of knives into the abyss. The bridge of bark and moss beneath their boots shook like a terrified animal—one heartbeat, steady; the next, a desperate quiver. A gust of fetid wind burst up from below, carrying the smell of hot sap and grave mold. It slapped their faces, drying the sweat that streaked dust across their skin.
Mikhailis’s heart pounded in his throat, uneven and frantic. Every second, the chasm widened another hair, ripping through layers of soil and root with a sound like giant ribs being pried apart. Bits of dirt, moss, and sharp fragments of crystal ward-stone cascaded into the endless dark, vanishing before they struck anything solid.
Below, Rodion’s crumpled body lay half-submerged in a knot of vines and shattered ward rubble. Blue sparks jumped from fissures in his plating, crackling like frustrated fireflies. A single optic lens still glowed, dim but stubborn—proof the construct refused to shut down.
Thalatha wiped the back of her hand across her brow, leaving a smear of blood and grime. Her sword arm trembled from fatigue, and crimson seeped through the split in her shoulder armor where a revenant’s blade had bitten deep. She swallowed—hard enough that Mikhailis saw her throat flex—then shook her head as if to clear it.
"We can’t leave him, can we?" Her words came strained, each syllable pressed between clenched teeth. She sounded angry at the weakness in her own voice.
No, we can’t. And I don’t leave family behind.
The silent vow rang loud inside Mikhailis’s skull. A brittle calm settled over him, the fragile sort one finds seconds before doing something monumentally stupid.
He plunged a hand into his battered coat, fingers closing around a thumb-sized capsule. A twist, a flick, and the thin glass cracked with a hiss. Sour-acid scent rushed out—compressed pheromone gel activating in the open air. The smell slapped his nostrils, sharp enough to make his eyes water.
"Let’s gamble, partner," he muttered, unsure if he was talking to Thalatha, Rodion, or the crazy idea itself.
The gel foamed against the bark at his feet, fizzing like green lightning. Instantly the Seed of Binding flared under his glove, branding heat across his palm. Lines of molten gold shot up his wrist, pulsing in three quick beats—matching the mechanical wheeze of the titan below and the staccato thud of his own heart. Mana bled into glyph shape before his eyes, sketching a ragged circle that expanded beneath their boots.