When the Darkness Falls

Tools created by humans almost always fell into two categories.

One type was designed for the everyday user, whose connection to the ether was negligible. These were devices, machines, and constructions where the complexity was hidden inside: communicators, self-pumping radiators, even simple flashlights. Children could use them with the proper sensitivity to the ether, but creating such devices was a delicate and almost impossible task without precise knowledge and craftsmanship.

The second type was different. These tools required a person's direct intervention with the ether. Such people were called by different names: mages, priests, conduits, depending on tradition and school. But the essence remained the same: the mage worked simply, almost crudely, while the priest employed intricate schemes, drawing power from the ether, strength available to only a few.

A mage might sketch a rough formula that would work for a single use.

A priest, on the other hand, would launch a mechanism powered by the ether, ready to work day and night without rest.

That's why, even among the rare users of the ether, priests were respected far more than mages. Almost like bearers of an ancient title.

Siren knew this.

Looking at the faint glow of the ore inside the lantern, he recalled Old Kae's words. Back then, it seemed to him that all these talks about the workings of the external world were nothing more than useless stories for them. But now, deep within the catacombs, he mentally thanked his close friend. Among the three he was with, he could unmistakably differentiate their roles.

Lans, with his mage knowledge, undoubtedly understood how the ether worked. His control and deliberate movements gave away that he had been learning to wield it from childhood. Damn lucky.

Rud and Ayra were more like fighters. Those who could feel the flow, bend it with force, but couldn't communicate with it. They weren't mages, nor priests—just crude users of the ether, belonging to the warrior caste.

And yet, even such people were elite. The ether listened to only a few... and drove nearly all the infected to despair.

And he… he was tethered to these three like a dog on a leash.

"Hey, why are you slowing down?" Rud's voice thundered, pulling on the rope. "Move it, birdie."

Siren silently took a step forward. His gaze swept over the walls and ceiling. There, in the stone, thin strands of ether pulsed, coalescing into an ether network. They seemed unremarkable, but they could explode at any moment. Minor, almost harmless for a mage.

But not for him.

For him, they were offensive mines.

Had he been alone, he would have simply avoided them, causing no unnecessary commotion.

But Lans, with his map and overconfidence, was leading them straight into the traps.

Siren didn't know whether the mage was testing his "sixth sense" or simply didn't notice the hidden dangers. Either way, there was no choice. He was walking first, like cannon fodder, falling into every trap.

He had to play along if he didn't want to reveal his trump cards. If luck was on his side, he could later lure them into a far more dangerous trap, but to do that, he needed to keep his secrets.

Moving forward, Siren deliberately stepped on a stone that tracked a weak ether pulse.

The explosion that followed was powerful enough to smash a heavy door into splinters. But Siren wasn't hurt.

He fell to the ground, rolling as debris and dust rained down behind him. Just before the explosion, he had managed to dodge to the side, minimizing the damage.

Pain coursed through his body, but Siren didn't make a sound. He only stood up, brushing the dirt off.

"Well, well, our canary really does have eyes on the back of his head," Rud chuckled, jerking on the rope.

"Or maybe he's just lucky," Lans lazily commented, adjusting his glasses. "So far."

Siren exhaled through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.

"Damn sadists…" he muttered.

His hands and legs were scraped, his body aching from the countless falls. Every step was becoming harder. But he still walked first. And the traps kept going off behind him.

After some time, their walk through narrow corridors shifted into a more open space. The stone walls parted, and the group emerged into a vast, echoing cave, as if carved from the depths by the very breath of time. The vaulted ceiling was lost in darkness, adorned with stalactites that hung like petrified fangs.

It was here that Siren noticed something strange.

Behind one of the mineral columns, faint but too distinct, the lines of the ether appeared. They moved in sync, as if part of something larger. He recognized these currents; he had seen and felt them before. But this... he had never seen before.

The lines merged, forming a figure, and for a moment everything around them froze.

The spell's formula completed, and a wave of barely perceptible ether pulsed from the center, rippling through the cave. Completely silent, invisible to normal eyes... but Siren did not have normal eyes. He didn't know what the spell was, but he didn't want to find out.

He quickly stepped aside— as far as the rope allowed, tightening around his wrist—and pressed himself against one of the stone columns, blending into the background.

"Hey! Who gave you permission to wander off?" Rud grumbled, yanking on the rope like a leash.

But that brief moment was enough. The wave of ether passed by, not touching Siren. He stepped out from behind the column, muttering irritably,

"I just went to pee."

Rud smirked, barely, but with that same cruel grin, the kind people wear when they give orders.

"Even so… While you're with us, you'll report in for every little thing."

He enjoyed the feeling of dominance and took every opportunity to feed his ego.

Siren remained silent, grinding his teeth. Now wasn't the time to argue.

The residual trace of the ether wave still lingered in the air. It dissipated, but didn't attract the attention of the other three.

The very fact that the spell had been cast here spoke volumes.

They weren't alone.

As if confirming his suspicion, the air around him shuddered.

He subtly took a step back. It was at that moment that a silver thread of ether cut through the air where he had just been standing. He noticed it immediately, as if a laser sight had been aimed directly at him.

The silver thread shot off into the darkness from an unexpected direction.

Siren didn't have time to think. He darted sideways. The bullet, slicing through the air, missed him, followed by a scream.

"Ambush!" Lans shouted, and the next second, a burst of ether shot from his staff. A light whirlwind accompanied the projectile as it sped toward the target.

The spell hurtled into the darkness.

Almost simultaneously with Lans's spell, Ayra vanished from her position. Her movements were like a shadow, silently gliding along the surface. Under the cover of the ether, she moved around, her footsteps silent, her body elusive.

In the confusion, Siren tugged on the rope. With the sudden jerk, the rope slipped from Rud's hands, freeing him.

Rud, his back to him, only cast a quick glance in his direction before instinct took over. The light from the lanterns went out, shrouding him and Lans in darkness. He threw Lans aside, shielding him with his body, and disappeared into the darkness behind a column.

Rud's heavy legs, reinforced with ether, pushed off the ground. The stones cracked as he shot forward like a boulder thrown from a cliff, out of the line of fire.

In the air, traces of bullets, spells, and crossbow bolts swirled. All of them were aimed at one target—the only one still in sight.

But Siren was already moving. He wasn't just dodging the attacks—he was anticipating them. His body twisted, slid, and dove between the deadly trajectories as if he knew them beforehand. It was as if the bullets weren't flying toward him—he was slipping through them.

To the surprise of the attackers, no projectile or spell hit him.

Cursing under his breath, Siren finally found cover behind one of the tall stalactite columns.

He disappeared behind it, breathing heavily, leaving only echoes of the battle behind. His heart pounded, his ears rang, and his muscles burned from the strain. But he was alive.

On the far side of the cave, Ayra had finally reached the enemy. The fight erupted unexpectedly for the attackers. Sparks of ether flew into the darkness like lightning as blades and spells collided. She was fast—too fast. But her goal wasn't to kill. Her task was to distract.

Meanwhile, Lans finished drawing his formula. Above his hand, complex, intertwined patterns of a multi-purpose spell swirled in the air.

The projectiles tore free from the ether, splitting the air with brilliance and thunder. The relentless stream of flashes shot toward the enemy, showing no mercy.

And then, from the shadow, a shot rang out in response. One single bullet, encased in silver, leaving a shining trail as it cut through the darkness.

The sniper's target was the unsuspecting Lans.

But before the bullet could reach him, a sword slid in front of it.

Rud's heavy blade, standing in its path, was like an impenetrable wall. Steel met silver, and the metal groaned.

Lans survived.

But his spell did not reach its target.

Before the spell could reach the enemy, a barrier rose before them, shining with cold light. The projectiles shattered against it like waves against rocks.

"Enough!" a hoarse voice, as if it had come from the earth itself, echoed through the cave.

In the voice, as if from a beast's roar, was woven a spell.

A psychic wave struck everyone at once, not distinguishing between allies and enemies. All—mages, fighters, even Siren, who had stepped out of the wave's reach—fell to their knees, pressing their hands to their temples. The ether shattered into thousands of fragments and howled.

Blood leaked from Siren's ears.

But that wasn't the end of the attack.

A bright light filled the cave, briefly illuminating it in its entirety. And in the midst of this light, as if an apparition from another realm, stood a tall old man, with a grey beard, a staff, and eyes sunken deep into their sockets.

He looked around with cold severity and said:

"No more bloodshed.

I am Mearin, the senior spellcaster of the Volkrag Research Association.

I ask… lower your weapons. We did not come for a battle."