The stench of burnt metal and spilled mechanical fluid filled the narrow corridor.
The carcasses of the three Arachnophobias lay motionless, their multiple legs twisted at unnatural angles, their red optics extinguished.
Scott leaned heavily against a wall, catching his breath in great gulps of an, his flashlight beam dancing erratically over the debris-strewn floor.
"Damn critters," he panted, wiping a hand across his face, smearing soot and some viscous substance Alden preferred not to identify.
"Tougher than their size suggested. Your arm, kid?"
Alden winced as he examined his left forearm.
The bleeding had lessened thanks to the rudimentary application of his Mana, but the wound remained deep, its edges jagged from the Arachnophobia's pincers.
"It'll hold. But we need to clean and dress this properly. We can't afford an infection in here." His gaze swept their surroundings.
"This place isn't safe. Let's find a recess, an alcove, anything that can offer us minimal cover while I take care of this." Scott nodded, straightening up.
"Good idea. I don't fancy ending up as dinner for their buddies. There was a half-collapsed service duct about fifty meters back, before the energy barrier. Maybe we'll be quieter there."
They retraced their steps cautiously, Alden gritting his teeth with every movement of his injured arm.
The duct Scott had mentioned was indeed there, a gaping hole in the wall скрытый by twisted metal plates.
The space was cramped, barely enough for both of them to sit, but it offered relative protection from a frontal surprise attack.
Once sheltered, Alden opened his small bag and took out his first-aid kit. The supplies were minimal: a few sterile compresses, a potent antiseptic, and a roll of bandage.
"Let me take a look," Scott offered, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man of his build and usual cynicism.
He clearly had experience with field injuries.
Alden hesitated for a moment, unaccustomed to receiving help, especially from someone like Scott. But the need to preserve his combat ability won out.
He extended his arm. Scott examined the wound with professional seriousness, cleaning the edges with the antiseptic, which drew another wince from Alden.
"Deep, but the tendons don't seem to be hit. You were lucky. Or maybe your skin is just tough." He applied a compress and began to bandage the forearm firmly. While Scott attended to him, Alden consulted his System interface.
"System, physical state analysis. Estimated recovery time for the injury with current care? Impact on combat performance?"
[Physical state analysis… Moderate injury to left forearm stabilized. Blood loss stopped. Risk of infection reduced by antiseptic. Full recovery without advanced magical assistance or prolonged rest: 2 to 3 days. Impact on immediate combat performance: approximately 30% reduction in grip strength and dexterity of the left arm. Persistent pain affecting concentration. Your "Mortal Awakening" constitution slightly accelerates the basic healing process.]
A thirty percent reduction in effectiveness.
That wasn't negligible.
He would have to compensate with his right arm and agility.
"There," Scott said, finishing the bandage.
"That should hold. But avoid using it as a club for now." He leaned back, sitting heavily against the duct wall. "So, 'genius,' what's the plan now?
Do we keep playing suicidal explorers, or do we try to find that damn beacon before the whole Labyrinth comes crashing down on our heads?
" Alden took a sip of water from his canteen, collecting his thoughts. The pain was still there, a dull throb in his arm, but his mind was clear. "
The beacon remains the primary objective," he replied.
"Professor FallenDawn expects results. And we only have three hours. How much time has passed, by the way?" Scott consulted his own terminal, much simpler and more rugged than Nina Yvan's. "By my clock, since we entered… about forty minutes. Counting our little interlude with the barrier and those damn spiders."
Forty minutes.
That left them a little over two hours. It was both a lot and very little in such a hostile and changing environment.
"The last direction my… intuition gave me before the attack was eastward, following a series of conduits that seemed older," Alden said, referring to his "Labyrinth Sense" without naming it explicitly.
"But after our encounter with those Arachnophobias, I wonder if it wasn't a false trail, or a trap."
"A kid's intuition in a place like this," Scott muttered skeptically.
"Might as well flip a coin. You got anything more concrete? A map, readings from your terminal?" Alden knew Lie had given him information, but it mainly concerned the general structure and rumors.
He didn't have a detailed map of this specific sector, especially after potential reconfigurations.
"My terminal is still picking up major interference," he lied in part.
The beacon's signal was indeed scrambled, but his "Labyrinth Sense" offered him leads.
"However, before we go any deeper, it might be wise to find an observation point, possibly elevated, to try and get an overview, or at least spot structures or energy flows that might indicate the beacon's presence."
Scott looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"An elevated point? In this underground scrapheap? You're dreaming, Khan. Most of these corridors are rat traps."
"Perhaps," Alden conceded.
"But if we keep advancing blindly, we risk going in circles or running into even greater threats.
The System…
" He paused, mentally correcting himself so as not to arouse Scott's suspicions.
He thought of the energy barrier, the cycle he had perceived.
He thought of the echoes he felt, the impression that the place itself was some kind of entity. "There are patterns here, Scott.
Flows. If we can understand them, we might be able to anticipate changes, or even use them to our advantage.
" Scott stared at him for a long moment, an indecipherable expression on his face. Then, he let out a sigh. "
"Flows, patterns… You're starting to sound like one of those completely out-there theorists. But hey, seeing how you got past that barrier, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for now. Come up with something concrete, and I'll stop calling you 'kid.' Maybe."
Alden felt a fraction of the tension ease.
"Let's go back to the intersection where we encountered the Arachnophobias," Alden said.
"There were several conduits leading from there. My… sense tells me one of them might go up, or lead to a larger chamber. It's a risk, but less than continuing blindly."
Scott grumbled but got to his feet.
"Alright. But if we run into a nest of those critters, you're the bait this time. I've almost hit my quota of cold sweats for the day."
Alden managed a rare smile.
"Understood."