Kaelen couldn't stay in that closet. No way. Knowing those worm-things lived inside the walls made his skin crawl worse than any slime. He forced his shaky legs to move, pushing the bent metal sheet aside and stepping back out into the dark tunnel. His heart still hammered like crazy against his ribs.
He stood there for a second, listening, feeling. His [Avian Vision] cut through the darkness, showing only empty, damp concrete and rusted pipes. His [Chemoreception] tasted the air – wet earth, mold, the faint sourness from the Larvae remains, but nothing else moving close by. He even focused on the new [Vibration Sense (Trace)] he'd picked up. It was weak, barely there, but he thought he could feel the distant drip of water, the low hum of… something… deep in the building's bones. Nothing immediate, though. Okay. Safe for now. But 'now' never lasted long in this world.
Which way to go? Back towards the fungus people? He shuddered. That felt like jumping from a frying pan into… well, into some weird, creepy fungus fire. Up towards the surface levels? That felt wrong too. The Chrome Hound might be up there. He remembered the metallic scent he'd caught earlier, stronger than the traces down here.
That left… down. Deeper into the ground. Into the places where things like the Larvae came from. It felt like a terrible choice, like walking willingly into a dark hole, maybe a grave. But it was the only direction that seemed to lead away from the things he already knew were dangerous. Staying put was asking for trouble. Going up felt like running towards the Hound. So, down it was. Reluctantly.
He started walking, choosing a tunnel that sloped gently downwards. The air grew heavier, cooler. The smell of wet earth intensified. Water dripped more often now, echoing strangely in the enclosed space. His vision showed the tunnel narrowing, the concrete walls giving way in places to rough, bare rock. Old pipes, thicker and more corroded than the ones above, clung to the walls like rusty veins. The trace [Subterranean Adaptation] he'd gotten from the Larvae didn't do much, but maybe the oppressive darkness felt a tiny bit less… alien? Less like it was actively trying to crush him.
He moved slowly, carefully, testing the ground, listening. After maybe ten minutes of careful walking, his foot hit something that wasn't rock or concrete. He stopped, crouching down. It was a pile of old, rusted metal bars – looked like someone had tried to build a barrier here, a long time ago. But it was smashed inwards, twisted and broken. Something strong had come through here.
Nearby, almost hidden under debris, his eyes caught a dull gleam. He brushed away some dirt. An old datapad, cracked and grimy. Looked totally dead. He picked it up anyway, turning it over. As he did, the screen flickered, just for a second, showing corrupted text and a faded logo – a stylized gear merged with a jagged lightning bolt. The text was mostly garbage, but he thought he saw fragments: ...ject_CHTHON...Containment...FAIL... before the screen died again for good. Containment failure? Containing what? The Larvae? Or something worse? And that logo felt… familiar? Like something the System had tagged before, maybe? Apocalypse Tech? He couldn't be sure.
He tucked the dead datapad into a pocket – useless now, but maybe a clue later. He stood up, feeling a new unease. People had been down here. People had fought something down here. And they had lost.
Just as that chilling thought settled in, his [Chemoreception]screamed a warning. Metal. Ozone. Hot oil. The Chrome Hound's signature scent. But it wasn't coming from behind him, from the upper levels. It was coming from below. Faint, but definitely echoing up from deeper tunnels ahead of him.
What?! No! Panic surged, hot and fast. He'd gone down to get away from the Hound! How could it be down here too? Was it tracking him somehow? Did it know where he was going? Could it smell his Abyssal Core energy, even deep underground?
"It's down here too! How? Why?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and scrambled back the way he came, heart pounding against the reinforced chitin under his skin. He needed another path, any path, now. He pushed himself faster, stumbling in the dark, the oppressive weight of the earth above and the metallic scent rising from below threatening to crush him between them. The distant sound of dripping water suddenly seemed like it might be masking something else – the faint, rhythmic click-click-click of metal claws on rock, getting closer. He was trapped again, deeper than ever, and the hunter was closing in.