Chapter 87 - The Summoner in the Quarry

Unit Twelve drew the map from memory.

She did not know the local names.

That made it more useful.

People lied with names.

Terrain was harder.

A river bent east.

A road crossed it twice.

A ridge shaped like a broken tooth.

Then a quarry.

Saeva translated while the woman drew.

“She says below.”

Etzel leaned over the table.

“Below the quarry?”

Saeva listened.

“Not cave. Built place.”

Renn marked the location.

“Old Marrow Quarry.”

Rusk frowned.

“Abandoned after the Rupture.”

“Officially,” Renn said.

Etzel looked at Unit Twelve.

Her unlocked silver chain remained around her wrist.

She could have removed it.

She had not.

Not yet.

That was her decision.

“What is her name?”

Saeva asked.

The woman hesitated.

Then answered.

“Liora.”

Etzel nodded.

Better than Unit Twelve.

“Ask Liora who her summoner is.”

Another exchange.

Saeva’s expression shifted.

“Brother.”

Etzel stopped.

“Her summoner is her brother?”

“Yes.”

That changed the shape of the problem.

Not ownership.

Not contract.

Family.

“What name?”

“Arden.”

“Hunter?”

Saeva asked.

Liora answered for longer this time.

Saeva translated slowly.

“He was. She says his ability made guardians. Not dead. Not created. Called from… somewhere near his soul.”

Etzel looked at DK.

Orsik’s expression hardened.

A summoning ability.

Not Limited Necromancer.

Different system architecture.

That helped.

Different abilities could reach similar outcomes by different rules.

“What happened?”

Saeva listened.

“Menagerie took her first. Used bond to find him. He cut connection before they could take him.”

Etzel looked at Liora.

She had been separated from the person who summoned her.

Yet she remained alive.

Physical.

Independent.

He remembered that.

Later.

Not now.

“Why is he still at the quarry?”

Liora answered.

Saeva’s light dimmed.

“He didn’t escape.”

Etzel understood.

“He stayed to keep something there.”

Liora nodded before translation.

Naturally.

There was always something.

Renn folded his arms.

“Menagerie records?”

Halven answered from the recovered database terminal.

“Partial match. Marrow site appears under a code: Kennel Four.”

Etzel’s jaw tightened.

“Threats?”

“Unknown. Last synchronized entry is six months old.”

“Useful.”

“It notes a failed retrieval team.”

“Rank?”

“Two C-Ranks, one B-Rank contractor.”

Etzel stopped smiling.

“Failed as in dead?”

“Status unresolved.”

Renn looked at him.

“This is reconnaissance.”

Etzel looked back.

“You say that every time.”

“Because you repeatedly turn reconnaissance into structural disasters.”

“Only some of them.”

“Today, you locate Arden. You do not clear the site unless necessary to extract him.”

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“Understood.”

Renn pointed at DK.

“If threat exceeds operational ceiling—”

“We withdraw.”

Renn stared at Etzel.

Etzel raised both hands.

The moment gave Etzel something he had learned to value almost as much as an answer: time to check whether his first interpretation was wrong. One detail kept returning to him: “Below.” “You feel something?” “No.” Etzel looked at him. It had felt simple while he was reacting to it. In retrospect it carried more than one possible explanation, and Etzel had paid enough for certainty to stop buying it cheaply. He forced himself to label facts, assumptions and hopes as three different things. What he had seen remained useful. What he thought it meant remained provisional.

Orsik watched the process without interrupting until Etzel finally looked up. “You can say it.”

“I was waiting to see whether you would notice it yourself.”

“That is an extremely inefficient form of support.”

“It worked.”

Etzel disliked that answer because it did. The correction went into the plan instead of his pride.

“I learned.”

Tessa, standing beside him, made a skeptical sound.

Etzel looked at her.

“You’re coming?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you got stabbed in the soul six hours ago.”

“Technically pulled.”

“Etzel.”

“Fine.”

Maerin was not coming.

Neither was Sivenne.

Maerin needed recovery after Kestrel Sink.

Sivenne had completed her Rank assessment.

She had passed.

She had also threatened Etzel with bodily harm if he reached Level 17 before she got to celebrate.

He considered that motivation.

The field team left before sunset.

Etzel.

DK.

Saeva.

Tessa.

Rusk.

Two Authority scouts.

Liora stayed at the command post.

She wanted to come.

Renn refused.

For once Etzel agreed.

If Arden was alive, bringing the person Menagerie had used as a tracking key back into an unknown Menagerie site was stupid.

Liora had hated that answer.

That helped.

People did not need to like correct decisions.

Marrow Quarry looked dead from the road.

Broken excavators.

Flooded pits.

Rusting conveyor frames.

Trees reclaiming concrete.

No movement.

No lights.

No obvious monsters.

Etzel disliked it immediately.

“Too clean.”

Rusk nodded.

“No carcasses.”

“Tracks?”

“None.”

Saeva hovered near the ground.

“Quiet.”

Tessa whispered:

“Normal quiet?”

“No.”

Saeva looked toward the quarry.

“Waiting quiet.”

Excellent.

They moved along the ridge instead of entering the main road.

Etzel found the first sign after twelve minutes.

A dead transformed deer.

Not eaten.

Not decomposed.

Standing.

Its hooves had been sunk into concrete up to the ankle.

Its eyes were closed.

Etzel stopped everyone.

“Don’t touch.”

Rusk scanned.

“No heartbeat.”

Tessa looked from a distance.

“Dead at least several days.”

Etzel crouched.

The deer’s shadow was wrong.

Sunset came from the west.

The shadow fell north.

Then twitched.

Etzel stood.

“Back.”

The shadow peeled away from the ground.

It rose like black cloth.

The deer collapsed.

A creature unfolded from where the shadow had been.

Long arms.

Flat body.

No head.

D-Rank pressure.

Etzel moved before the System finished classifying it.

Once the immediate pressure eased, the cost did not vanish with it. The memory of Every shadow in the corridor turned toward them. made that especially clear. Etzel checked his breathing, grip, shoulders and the places where soul pressure had crossed into ordinary muscle. He no longer accepted functional as a synonym for unharmed. A hand that still closed could be injured. A Foundation that still stood could be strained. A bond that still answered could have paid more than he intended.

With He pointed out the mistake first—his own. still fresh in mind, Saeva stayed close enough to notice the inspection. Etzel tried to dismiss the concern with humor, then changed his mind and gave an accurate answer instead. The shift was small, but it mattered. Hiding damage from enemies was useful. Hiding it from allies only made the next decision worse. He adjusted the next movement around the body and soul he actually had rather than the version of himself his impatience preferred.

Spear thrust.

The creature folded around the point.

No resistance.

Bad.

Its arm became a blade.

Etzel leaned back.

Too slow.

A line opened across his chest armor.

DK stepped in.

“Mine?”

“No.”

Etzel moved left.

The creature followed his shadow, not his body.

There.

He changed direction.

It corrected before he did.

Because his shadow changed first.

Light.

Not prediction.

“Rusk! Flare!”

A white flare ignited above them.

Multiple shadows appeared beneath Etzel.

The creature froze.

One arm twitched toward one shadow.

Another toward another.

Confusion.

Etzel smiled.

He stepped between two light sources.

His shadows split wider.

The creature stretched.

Its body thinned.

Witness appeared.

“Break the shadow, break the body.”

Saeva understood first.

Pressure slammed the creature sideways through three crossing light cones.

Its shape tore.

DK did not need to finish it.

Etzel did.

Spear into the dark knot that appeared when the body failed to choose a direction.

One strike.

The creature collapsed into black dust.

Small.

That helped.

Etzel looked at the dead deer.

“Trap animal.”

Rusk nodded.

“Placed?”

“Probably.”

They found four more.

Did not trigger them.

Better.

The quarry entrance was not hidden.

That was the second bad sign.

A freight elevator sat inside the old processing building.

Power light green.

Rusk checked the panel.

“Active.”

“After six months abandoned?”

“Independent supply.”

Etzel looked at the floor.

Boot prints.

Recent.

Human.

Two sets entered.

One left.

The returning prints were deeper.

Carrying weight.

“Someone is using the site.”

DK touched the elevator door.

“Below.”

“You feel something?”

“No.”

Etzel looked at him.

Orsik looked back.

“I hear screaming.”

Right.

Etzel heard it a second later.

Very faint.

Metal carried sound.

Tessa’s face changed.

“Human?”

DK shook his head.

“Not entirely.”

They took the stairs.

Elevators were invitations.

Etzel had learned.

Three levels down, the concrete changed.

Old quarry construction ended.

Menagerie construction began.

White walls.

Silver conduit.

Black doors.

No active alarms.

No guards.

Rusk whispered:

“Too easy.”

“Yes.”

At the first junction, they found a body.

Menagerie armor.

Dead.

Chest crushed inward.

No decomposition.

Recent.

Maybe hours.

Not six months.

Rusk checked identification.

“Contractor.”

“Rank?”

“C.”

“Cause?”

Tessa crouched.

“One impact.”

DK looked down the corridor.

“Something strong.”

They found the B-Rank contractor two rooms later.

Alive.

Barely.

Pinned to the wall by a black spear.

Not a weapon.

A shadow.

His own shadow.

Etzel stopped.

The man’s eyes opened.

“Don’t…”

Etzel waited.

“Don’t wake him.”

“Arden?”

The contractor laughed weakly.

“No.”

A sound came from deeper below.

Chain.

Then another.

Heavy.

Dragging.

The contractor began shaking.

Etzel looked at DK.

Orsik raised the Greatblade.

“What is down there?”

The man swallowed blood.

“The dog.”

Naturally.

Menagerie called the site Kennel Four.

Etzel hated literal organizations.

The contractor grabbed his sleeve.

“We came for the summoner.”

“Arden?”

“He’s alive.”

That helped.

“Where?”

“Bottom.”

“Dog?”

“Between.”

Less good.

“What Rank?”

The contractor laughed again.

“Was B.”

Etzel’s stomach tightened.

“Was?”

The corridor lights died.

Darkness.

Saeva lit immediately.

Too bright.

Etzel covered her with one hand.

“Low.”

She dimmed.

Something breathed in the dark.

Not near.

Everywhere.

A System message appeared.

Etzel stared at the text.

Then at DK.

The question in front of them had not turned just because they had named part of it. Etzel used the pause to reset the formation instead of pretending the previous exchange had gone perfectly. He pointed out the mistake first—his own. That turned the mood faster than an order would have. Orsik corrected the angle. Saeva demonstrated her opinion with an exaggerated wobble in the air. Someone laughed, briefly, and the tension loosened without disappearing. Then they moved again. The hazard had not become smaller. They had simply become less willing to give it the same mistake twice. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Summoner in the Quarry', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

His body kept a separate record of the hunt. Bruised ribs, tight forearm, the hot line of an older wound protesting every hard turn. The System could call that irrelevant if it wanted. Etzel could not. He adjusted his grip and shortened his stride. Power that only worked while fresh was not power he trusted. Orsik saw the adjustment. 'Better.' Etzel measured offended. 'That sounded almost supportive.' 'Do not become distracted.' 'There it is.' If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Summoner in the Quarry', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

The practical thing about hunting something dangerous was that lies became expensive. Etzel could tell himself he had understood a pattern, but the next claw would grade the result. He could tell himself a plan was clever, but the terrain would decide whether clever mattered. That kept him honest. It also kept him alive often enough to continue being annoying, which he considered a secondary but meaningful benefit. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Summoner in the Quarry', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

Etzel used the pause to reset the formation instead of pretending the previous exchange had gone perfectly. He pointed out the mistake first—his own. That turned the mood faster than an order would have. Orsik corrected the angle. Saeva demonstrated her opinion with an exaggerated wobble in the air. Someone laughed, briefly, and the tension loosened without disappearing. Then they moved again. The hazard had not become smaller. They had simply become less willing to give it the same mistake twice. If this became another lesson hidden inside 'The Summoner in the Quarry', Etzel intended to survive long enough to complain about it.

Orsik rolled one shoulder.

“Reconnaissance?”

Etzel whispered:

“Very aggressively.”

A chain snapped somewhere below.

The contractor screamed.

The sound stopped halfway.

Not because he died.

Because something in the darkness growled.

Every shadow in the corridor turned toward them.