Light Bringer: New World[LitRPG, Fantasy, a very crazy idea]

The entrance to Pipe Seven sat tucked behind the west wall cooling complex, an industrial sector fenced off behind double layers of barbed wire and guarded only by automated spotlights mounted on cast-iron pylons.

The air at that perimeter smelled of stagnant, rusty water and a cloying trace of methane gas seeping through floor grates.

Nicole sat atop a concrete sidewalk curb when Dante and Maria arrived.

She had strapped a leather harness with steel carabiners over her black-scaled coat and carried a narrow, reinforced pack on her back, stripped of the bulky frame of Dante’s cargo rucksacks. Her twin straight-bladed daggers were sheathed at her hips, and her repeating crossbow hung locked to her right thigh holster with five dark-steel bolts seated in the magazine.

The girl eyed the forty-pound greatsword across Maria’s back and the riveted iron brigandine.

”Did you bring cold light?” Nicole asked, rising from the concrete block without making a sound on her flexible boot soles.

Dante raised his right hand, displaying the brass ring set with the blue quartz stone on his middle finger.

”The ring discharges ether photons without thermal sparks,” Dante replied, settling his pack straps. ”No combustion, no kerosene wicks. The gas won’t detonate.”

”Good.” She pulled an iron lever recessed into the concrete wall, swinging open a three-foot-wide circular maintenance hatch that revealed the spiral stairs of a ventilation shaft. ”The drop is eighty meters down in a tight spiral. The rungs are slick with boiler slime, so watch your footing.”

She ducked into the opening first, descending the cast-iron steps with swift, silent footfalls.

Maria dropped in right behind her, right hand resting against the greatsword hilt across her back, brown eyes locked onto the nape of the girl’s scaled coat, holding a steady two-pace distance.

Dante pulled the iron hatch shut from within, threw the locking bolt, and brought up the rear.

The gloom of the shaft swallowed the three of them by degrees.

As they circled down the spiral of metal rungs, the ambient temperature climbed in uneven surges.

It wasn’t the clean heat of a hearth fire. It was the stuffy, suffocating humidity of stale steam leaking from hairline pipe fractures, thick with the reek of hot asphalt and decomposing machine grease.

At eighty meters down, the stairs terminated onto a steel grating catwalk spanning the interior of Pipe Seven.

The conduit was a colossal circular tunnel twenty feet in diameter, constructed from three-inch-thick cast-iron rings bolted together with heavy flanges. Along the floor of the main ran a sluggish creek of dark sludge and oily water two feet deep, blanketed in a thin haze of gas bubbling from plate seams.

Dante’s interface updated the depth log across his sight.

[Region: Pipe Seven - Dead Boilers Gallery.]

[Depth: -85 meters relative to street level.]

[Average Entity Level: 26 - 29.]

[Terrain Hazard: Combustible Gas in Low Pockets. Structural Collapse Risk.]

Nicole halted at the catwalk railing, gazing down the dark tunnel stretching due west in a straight line.

”The serpent made its nest in the expansion reservoir, two kilometers down,” she whispered, unclipping her repeating crossbow with her right hand. ”The terrain has shifted since the quartermaster’s last survey, though.”

Dante channeled a modest stream of Mana through his brass ring.

A soft sphere of azure luminescence, free of heat and sparks, blossomed two feet above his palm, illuminating the circular tunnel sixty feet ahead.

What the light unveiled brought Dante to a dead halt.

Six hundred feet down the catwalk, the floor of the cast-iron main did not continue unbroken.

The ringed superstructure had been ruptured from below by catastrophic force. Three-inch-thick plates of steel were peeled outward like sheared foil, opening a thirty-foot-wide crater dropping into an abyss of rough-hewn stone galleries far older than the city’s municipal cooling grid.

Dante stepped to the jagged edge of the breach, crouching to inspect the torn metal.

With thirty-four Intelligence and twenty-six Wisdom, his structural analysis was immediate.

”The serpent didn’t do this,” Dante said, his voice dropping into cold detachment. ”The plate seams were severed with the precision of military shaped-charge demolitions. There are concrete shoring boreholes with brass anchor pins driven into the stone walls down there.”

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He lifted his gaze slowly, locking his gray eyes onto Nicole’s face.

”This crater drops straight into First Century foundation aqueducts. The level of the entities down there isn’t twenty-eight. It’s substantially higher.”

Maria took a heavy step forward.

The iron sole of her boot struck the grating floor with a percussive clang. Drawing the forty-pound greatsword from her back in one clean sweep of both arms, she drove the broad chisel point into the deck two inches from Nicole’s boot.

The metal grating shuddered under the blow.

”Enough games, girl,” Maria growled, her broad frame filling the iron conduit with imposing mass. ”You pitched a snake in a cooling main. This is a military demolition breach punching into the deep earth. Open your damn mouth right now before I test this edge against your collarbone.”

Nicole made no move toward the daggers at her belt, nor did she level her repeating crossbow.

She stepped back half a pace, resting her shoulders against the iron curve of the conduit, and raised both hands open to chest height in a forced gesture of truce.

Her amber slit-pupils remained steady, but her breath came slightly shorter beneath the shadow of Maria’s blade.

”Lower the steel, big girl,” Nicole said, her voice quiet and firm. ”I didn’t lie about the contract. The permit is official, the twelve thousand scrip is guaranteed by the quartermaster, and the serpent is down there in that reservoir.”

”And what did you leave out?” Dante demanded from the crater’s lip, his brass ring primed to snap an instant barrier into place if she twitched.

Nicole exhaled slowly through her nose, dragging a gloved hand through her short dark hair.

”The serpent didn’t wander in here by accident,” she explained, looking down into the dark chasm beneath their boots. ”It was drawn by a leaking Mana matrix locked inside a supply vault from an old First Century ordnance line. That vault sits buried fifty meters below this crater.”

”And what is inside that vault?” Maria pressed, keeping the greatsword planted in the deck.

”Fourth Division operational transit manifests,” Nicole answered, her gaze meeting Dante’s. ”Heavy freight logs and biological disposal routes buried during the unification of the plain.”

Dante held his breath for half a beat.

Biological disposal.

The exact phrase Miro had used when describing the soul trials.

”Who do you work for, Nicole?” Dante asked, his tone dropping to a whisper that barely carried over the damp hiss of the tunnel. ”The Legion, or the men in the white jackets?”

The girl in the black-scaled coat froze on the spot.

Every trace of her casual swagger vanished. The vertical slits of her amber eyes widened, and she stared at Dante with raw, undisguised shock that she failed to conceal in time.

”You know about them?” she asked, her voice nearly drowned out by the steam.

”We know enough not to trust anyone wearing a high-tier obfuscation talisman around their neck,” Dante countered, not giving an inch.

Nicole looked from Maria to the brass ring on Dante’s hand, and let out a dry, bitter laugh filled with an old venom they recognized immediately.

”I don’t work for those bright-jacket butchers, kid,” she spat, words dragged up from the bottom of her chest. ”My mother was an archivist in the Citadel. She vanished into Sector Zero four years ago after signing a transfer protocol nobody ever saw again. I’m hunting these logs to find out which slag pit they dumped her body into.”

She slapped an open palm against the black scales over her chest.

”I needed this military permit because it’s the only legal avenue to enter this perimeter carrying heavy arms. I need you two to kill that sixty-foot serpent because I don’t possess the mass damage to crack that beast’s iron hull on my own.”

She locked eyes with Maria.

”I don’t care about the bounty money. Keep the full twelve thousand scrip. Keep the serpent’s energy core and every pound of ferrite off its chassis. I only want the brass lockbox sitting inside that vault behind the nest.”

The silence of the iron conduit was broken only by the sluggish bubbling of sludge at the bottom of the crater.

Maria glanced toward Dante, waiting for her partner’s assessment.

Dante processed the telemetry with thirty-four Intelligence.

The narrative aligned with the demolition residue and the complete absence of an altered soul signature in her frame. She was not a field operative of the apparatus. She was another survivor working the margins of the system to hunt down answers in the underbelly of the Capital.

Yet the operational scale had widened dramatically.

A chasm dropping eighty meters down into flooded acid galleries packed with secondary nests of Greater Tier Two parasites was no two-hour sweep.

”We don’t clear this today,” Dante said, rising from the rim of the breach.

Maria pulled the greatsword from the grating, resting the broad flat across her shoulder. ”Will the descent take two days, Dante?”

”Two or three days,” Dante confirmed. ”We have to clear the lateral nests of condensation worms on the way down so we aren’t flanked from behind while engaging the serpent in the reservoir. We also need to secure a dry staging redoubt on the first stone gallery to rotate our watches.”

He looked at Nicole with the detached clarity of someone closing a provisional coalition.

”The twelve thousand scrip belongs to us. The serpent’s core belongs to us. The ferrite hull belongs to us. You get the brass lockbox from the vault, and you carry half the supply bags on the descent.”

Nicole released a long breath through her mouth, dropping her repeating crossbow to her side.

”Deal.”

Maria stepped past the girl with a heavy tread, halting at the lip of the masonry crater to stare into the damp dark plumbing the depths of this empire.

”You still walk in front, Nicole,” Maria warned over her shoulder, adjusting her greatsword harness. ”Try reaching for a dagger behind my back in the dark of that stone, and Dante won’t even need a spell to chuck you straight into that muck.”

Nicole offered a faint, tired smirk, locked her crossbow to her belt, and dropped onto the first rock ledge of the descent with her customary silent poise.

Dante and Maria followed close behind, leaving the circular tunnel of Pipe Seven in their wake, plunging into the buried ruins of the Capital where iron blood and the ancient secrets of this continent lay waiting in the deep earth.