On the fringes of St. Katharine Docks, behind an unremarkable, graffiti-covered brick building, stood a rusted, heavy iron door. Multiple physical chains and faded runic wards sealed it shut. A barely legible sign read: "LONDON UNDERGROUND - DOCKLANDS LINE DEEP MAINTENANCE ACCESS 7B - UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY PROHIBITED." The seals had been broken by a higher Warden runic key.
3:00 AM. Thick fog, like a cold, damp shroud, clung to the silhouettes of dormant cranes and silent warehouses. The air reeked of river mud and the faint tang of industrial decay. Unmarked black vans lurked in the shadows.
"Final gear check," Lena's voice came crisp and clear through the comms. She stood before the door, clad in new, matte-black heavy-duty environmental gear. Bulkier than her infiltration suit, it featured composite armor at the joints. The helmet visor was layered ballistic glass and runic filters, housing an internal air recycler. Her reinforced shock baton and a large-caliber runic pistol hung at her hips; a multi-function tactical pack rode her back.
Beside her, Fenrir loomed like a mobile fortress. Standard gear didn't fit him. Wardens techs had crafted alloy plates covering his vitals, integrated into a heavy-duty tactical vest. His powerful arms and head remained exposed, coated in a dull-gleaming alchemical salve for corrosion and energy resistance. He growled, flexing his shoulders, alloy claws scraping lightly. His eyes glowed with wary amber light in the gloom.
Alan wore standard-issue Warden heavy gear, feeling cumbersome. Filtered air tasted sharply chemical inside the mask. His suppressor cuff glowed faintly in "Alert Mode," ready to clamp down. He carried a lighter pack with medical supplies, extra lights, and basic detectors from Simon. Staring at the door to the subterranean dark, his palms sweated inside his gloves; the Harmonizing energy within him felt restless, constrained by the mask.
"Comms green, vitals stable, Anima radiation shielding active," Simon's voice sounded in everyone's helmet comms. He was back at White Dove Nest command center, monitoring via helmet cams and sensors. "Environmental baseline established. Air comp: High H2S, CH4, unknown VOCs; Anima background: Moderate flux, strong inert field signature. Grav stable, no major spatial distortions detected. Good luck down there… signal'll be spotty. I'll keep the data trickle alive."
Two additional Wardens joined them. Brendan Hawk, a stocky, taciturn man, wore heavy engineer-rated gear. His helmet mounted a powerful headlamp and multi-spectrum geological scanner; a massive tool pack held breaching tools, structural sealant, and sonic probes. He was a top-tier "Earthwalker," navigating London's underworld like his own backyard.
Selena Vesta, elite Rune Support, was tall and lean. Her lighter deep-blue gear was woven with complex runes. She carried no heavy weapons, only a rune-inscribed short staff and a bulging pouch at her belt. Her role: maintain shields, breach wards, stabilize space or neutralize energy surges.
"Hawk, lead the way," Lena ordered.
Hawk nodded, thick gloves gripping the massive door handle. With a protesting shriek of metal, the heavy door groaned open. A wave of indescribable stench—thick mold, animal dung, rotting organic matter, and acrid chemicals—rolled out in a wave of hot, damp air! Even through advanced filters, the smell clung stubbornly, nauseating.
Beyond lay a wide, decaying tunnel descending steeply. Thick, viscous black sludge and unidentifiable filth coated the floor. Rough concrete walls wept with moisture, streaked with dark green algae and water stains. Rusted rails lay half-buried in muck. Twisted metal struts jutted like skeletal ribs from walls and ceiling, draped in sticky cobwebs. The air was hot, humid, instantly fogging helmet visors.
Hawk activated his helmet lamp. Twin blinding beams cut through the cloying darkness. "Stay close. Mind your step. Sludge is deep, voids possible." His voice echoed metallically in the comms.
The team stepped inside. Boots sank into ankle-deep muck with a sickening squelch, each step requiring effort to pull free. Air recyclers hummed, fighting the foul air. From the depths came the constant drip of water and a faint, unsettling scritch-scratch, like countless tiny claws on stone.
They followed the abandoned Tube tunnel downward for fifteen minutes, the incline increasing. Conditions worsened. The sludge thickened, mixed with broken glass, rusted metal shards, even small, pale rodent bones. Algae on the walls emitted a sickly phosphorescence, illuminating networks of vein-like black slime mold. The air grew hotter. Anima radiation readings on Lena's HUD climbed steadily into an ominous, stagnant yellow zone.
"Inert field intensifying," Selena reported, her voice tight. Her rune staff glowed soft blue, projecting a weak but stable purification field around her, repelling drifting mold spores. "Like walking into… Anima quicksand. Suppressing activity."
Alan felt it acutely. The suppressor cuff seemed heavier; his internal Harmonizing energy felt sluggish, muffled. The pervasive "deadness" here differed from Vita Tower's "Withering." This was a profound, ancient… stillness. As if all vital sparks had long been sucked dry by the oppressive dark and mire.
SCREECH—!
Ahead, Hawk halted abruptly, fist raised—halt signal! His geological scanner emitted rapid beeps!
Simultaneously, a horrifying, leather-on-stone scrabbling sound erupted from the darkness ahead and the pipe-filled ceiling! Huge, dark shapes detached from the shadows above and scuttled from wall crevices!
Giant blind spiders! Each was the size of a large dog! Glossy, dark brown chitin covered their bodies; eight long, barbed legs moved with disturbing speed. Their heads were eyeless horrors—only a wetly snapping maw dripping viscous saliva, surrounded by twitching sensory palps! They recoiled from Hawk's intense beam, mandibles hissing furiously!
"Back! Avoid the spray!" Hawk barked, yanking a sonic pulse emitter from his pack.
Too late. Two nearest spiders reared, abdomens convulsing! SPLAT! SPLAT! Thick, white, foul-smelling webbing shot forth like acid-spitting fire hoses, expanding mid-air to blanket the tunnel!
"Shield!" Selena reacted instantly! Her staff snapped forward, conjuring a shimmering blue energy dome!
HISSSSS—!
Acid webbing struck the shield, sizzling violently! The blue light flickered wildly, bubbling with corrosive reaction! Selena grunted, the strain evident.
Simultaneously, Fenrir roared with bestial fury! "Filthy bugs!" He ignored another web arcing towards the flank (vaporized mid-flight by Lena's precise runic pistol shot). His massive form launched forward like a battering ram! Alloy claws whistled through the air, aimed at a spider preparing another shot!
CRUNCH! SQUELCH!
Chitin proved no match for Fenrir's rage and razor claws! The spider split open, spewing foul green ichor and viscera! It shrieked, convulsing, and collapsed!
But more spiders poured from the shadows! Enraged by their kin's death, they abandoned webbing, leaping with terrifying speed, sharp legs seeking flesh! The narrow tunnel hampered evasion!
Lena fired calmly, energy bolts finding vulnerable leg joints, crippling or repelling attackers. Hawk activated the sonic emitter; low-frequency pulses rippled out, staggering and confusing the spiders. Selena held the shield, quickly laying small "Binding Rune" traps at her feet to impede their advance.
Alan, protected in the center, felt his cuff warm with tension and chaotic ambient energy. He saw a smaller spider drop from a pipe behind Selena, scuttling silently towards her focused back!
"Behind!" Alan shouted, moving before thinking! He lunged sideways, slamming his armored shoulder into the attacker!
THUD!
The spider staggered, sharp legs scraping white grooves in Alan's shoulder plate! Alan stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling.
Selena whirled, staff flashing. A bolt of blue energy punched through the spider's cephalothorax! She gave Alan a curt nod behind her visor.
The fight was short, brutal. Against Warden elites and Fenrir's fury, the spiders were quickly dispatched. The tunnel floor was littered with shattered chitin and sticky remains. The air stank worse than before.
"Move faster!" Lena ordered, eyeing her HUD's air filter load (approaching 70%). "Just the appetizer."
Hawk reoriented, leading them away from the corpse-strewn main tunnel into a narrower, downward-sloping passage, likely an old industrial conduit. No rails here, only rusted metal grating underfoot, hinting at watery depths below. Walls were red brick, slick with thicker, more vibrant phosphorescent mold. Slug-like bioluminescent slimes oozed slowly, leaving glowing trails of mucus that smelled of decay and emitted faintly numbing spores.
The passage twisted down steeply. The team moved cautiously, boots echoing hollowly on the wet grating. The crushing weight above intensified. Anima radiation held steady in the sickly yellow zone.
After an indeterminate time, the passage opened into a vast, cavernous space—the ruins of an industrial pumping station, Victorian or older. Massive, rusted steam turbines lay like fossilized behemoths in stagnant water. Broken cast-iron pipes, like petrified serpents, hung from a vaulted brick ceiling slick with mineral stains. The air reeked of oxidized metal and rancid oil.
Near the center, beside a huge, dry circular sedimentation basin, stood a metal signpost thick with moss and corrosion. Hawk's headlamp beam swept over it, revealing faint engraving:
"THAMES DEEP PURIFICATION WORKS - HUB VII - 1888"
"This is it," Hawk's voice held relief and heightened wariness. "The heart of 'Junction Seven.' The convergence point… is down there." He pointed to the center of the basin floor—a two-meter-wide circular shaft sealed by a heavy, corroded metal hatch. Embedded in the grime on the hatch's surface, the faint outline of a triple-ringed inverted triangle sigil was just visible.
The entrance to Mimir's Forge lay beneath their feet.