Chapter: The Iron Cavern
The forest no longer whispered.
It pressed—heavy, watching, breathing with the weight of the Ruby Game. But even through that pressure, Oliver, Fern, Luke, and the Seven Dwarves moved with sharpened purpose.
They didn't run—they cut forward, straight through the dense thickets of the woods. Branches cracked, leaves parted. They no longer searched randomly. They hunted for something with shape—a place to breathe in a game built for choking.
And finally—they found it.
A dark, jagged cavern mouth, hidden behind thick curtains of moss and half-flooded brush, carved into the side of a hill.
Oliver pointed. "There. If we're underground, maybe… just maybe he can't track us the same way."
Luke stepped beside him, sharp eyes scanning the terrain. "He's not a creature of earth—he's of space. But your thinking's solid. A confined zone with stable walls might reduce his movement tricks. Limited angles. Predictable space."
"Then we go in," Oliver said.
They entered.
Immediately the air shifted—cooler, denser, metallic.
Their boots echoed against wet stone, and soon the torchlight revealed what the mist outside had hidden:
Walls laced with raw iron.
Rust-colored streaks bled down from the ceiling. Veins of mineral curled through the cavern like silver snakes in the walls. And underfoot, the floor became wet, slick with cold standing water that reached their ankles within just a few meters.
"Is it… safe?" asked Doli, nervously adjusting his goggles.
Luke turned to one of the dwarves—Tarn, the short, bearded dwarf with a knack for geographic magic. "Tarn. Pulse the terrain."
Tarn nodded and crouched, pressing both palms to the stone floor. His eyes glowed a faint amber as Vita lines spiraled out from his fingers like ripples across a pond.
He muttered, "Mapping all terrain channels… walls… pressure layers… give me a sec…"
A faint tremble ran through the cavern as the magic spread, echoing into the stone itself.
After a moment, he exhaled. "Confirmed. This place runs deep. Natural formation… but interlocked with older miner routes. Plenty of iron to block out magical signatures. Water's collected over years—no active flow. No traps. One entrance, two sealed exits at the rear. Structurally sound."
"So it's a cage," Fern said softly. "But for us… or for him?"
Oliver looked around. The cavern was wide but narrow in direction—like a hallway flooded by time. The iron veins gave the walls a strange hum, and the water amplified every movement, every splash.
"Too much noise," he whispered.
Luke drew his longsword, eyes scanning the darkness ahead. "If he enters, we'll hear him."
"And if we don't," Fern added, "then we're already too late."
The dwarves spread out, some climbing small rocky ledges, others pulling out gear—traps, markers, snacks, even a tiny kettle. Doli handed Oliver a glowing orb.
"Emergency spark bomb," he said nervously. "Might flash hard enough to bend light a little."
"Thanks," Oliver replied. "I'll try not to blind us all."
As the group settled into the iron-blooded cavern, water swirling gently around their ankles, something shifted in the group dynamic.
They weren't just surviving now.
They were preparing.
And for a moment—just a moment—Oliver felt something new.
Not fear. Not panic.
But advantage.
If the Silent Stalker wanted to come…
He'd have to step into the light.
Into iron.
Into noise.
And maybe, just maybe, they'd be ready.
------
Chapter: The Arrows of Bone
The cavern echoed with cold wind—but it wasn't natural.
It howled, then snapped into silence—before a whistling crack broke the stillness.
Thunk.
An arrow slammed into the stone wall beside Doli's head. He shrieked and ducked.
Then came another. And another. Dozens of them.
From the shadowed passage deeper within the cavern, emerging from the gloom and waist-high water, came Ranger Skeletons—tall, thin undead warriors with hollow eyes and rusted longbows. Their bones glistened damply, moss growing between joints. Yet their aim… was precise.
> [Entity: Archenemy – Undead Class: Ranger Skeleton]
[Rank: Blue / Enhanced Accuracy]
[Status: Hostile]
A full volley flew out, arrows slicing through the damp air like whips.
"BACK!" Luke shouted, instantly throwing an arm out. "Fall back—defensive position!"
The party scattered behind a rocky outcrop. Water splashed as they ducked for cover.
Oliver gritted his teeth and, without thinking, summoned a ball of water into his hand, channeling the cavern's pool beneath them.
"I'll drown them out—"
But Fern stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist, eyes sharp. "Water won't hurt the dead. They don't breathe."
Oliver hesitated, eyes darting. "Then what will?"
"Let Luke handle this."
On cue, the Seven Dwarves lifted their hands in sync, slamming small runestones into the ground. A ripple of earthen energy surged upward, creating a stone barrier wall, thick and jagged, blocking the incoming arrow barrage.
Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk! Arrows peppered the wall like hail, but none broke through.
Luke stepped forward, sword drawn, his red and blue bead necklace glowing faintly as he narrowed his eyes at the skeletal archers.
His boots sloshed through the shallow water, ignoring the noise.
"I hate undead."
He raised his longsword high—and the blade shone.
Not with flame. Not with electricity. But with pure white light—radiant, pulsing, burning against the gloom.
The Ranger Skeletons paused, empty sockets flickering with pale light—then resumed firing, unaware of what was about to hit them.
Luke sprinted forward and leapt, his blade carving an arc through the air—
And then:
BOOM.
A burst of divine light exploded outward from the slash, engulfing the nearest six skeletons.
Their bones didn't burn.
They didn't bleed.
They simply… dissolved, turned to ash, health bars blinking to 0% in a flash.
The remaining archers began to retreat—but it was too late. Luke dashed forward, his movements sharp and commanding, like a hunter in total control of the terrain.
Every strike of his light-infused blade shattered ribs, cracked skulls, melted bones.
The undead were no match for radiance.
Light wasn't just effective—it was their bane.
In under a minute, the assault was over.
The water stilled again. Bones floated like debris. A faint mist hovered where divine energy had flared.
Luke stood still, blade glowing faintly as the last of the light faded. "Undead in iron caverns... always the same," he muttered.
Oliver stared in awe. "That wasn't just light. That was purification."
Fern gave a rare nod of approval. "It worked."
Behind them, the Seven Dwarves all slowly lowered the barrier and stared out with wide eyes.
Doli muttered, "Remind me never to make Luke mad."
Another added, "We really should stay behind the light guy more often."
Luke turned toward the group and pointed toward the rear of the cavern. "Keep moving. This place wasn't just a hiding spot—it's a trial zone."
Oliver stepped beside him, glancing down at the disintegrated bones.
"If there's undead archers here," he said, "then this cavern is more than iron and water…"
"It's a tomb," Fern said softly.
And tombs, in the Ruby Game…
Meant something was watching.