The descent to Floor 2 was like walking into the belly of something ancient and angry.
The staircase spiraled downward, wide enough for two carts abreast, the stones slick with condensation and streaks of something darker. The walls were etched with grooves that pulsed faintly in the torchlight—lines too precise to be natural, yet too alien to belong to any known civilization.
Eren's boots squelched in grime. He kept his head down, sack over shoulder, pretending not to notice the fresh drag marks beside his path. Something had been pulled up those stairs. Recently.
"Watch for ambush," Captain Rorik ordered, drawing his longsword. It hissed from its scabbard like a serpent. "The Goblin Warrens begin here."
Eren swallowed. Everyone had heard the stories. Goblins weren't the mindless pests of bardic tales. Not here. Not in the Spire. These goblins were twisted things—pale, sinewy, with too-long arms and lamp-like eyes that reflected even the faintest light. They scuttled like spiders. They flayed their prey alive.
As they moved deeper into the warren, the air thickened with rot. Bones littered the ground—human and not. The passage widened into a cavern, the ceiling lost in darkness, and the floor cluttered with crude barricades made of splintered weapons and twisted metal.
Rorik raised his fist. The procession halted.
Eren crouched behind a pillar, heart thundering. He could hear them—guttural chattering, sharp and quick. Goblins. Dozens of them. Maybe more.
Then the first scream echoed through the cavern. A mercenary had stepped on a trap—a sharpened stake that punched through his foot. Before he could fall, shadows surged from the darkness.
Goblins.
They came howling, blades of bone and rusted iron in hand. The Royal Guard surged forward to meet them, shields locked, spears thrusting. Arrows rained from behind the barricades. Steel clashed with bone. Screams, snarls, blood.
Eren froze.
This wasn't a battle. It was a massacre.
Mercenaries were dragged into the dark, torn apart before they could cry out. Even some of the Royal Guard began to fall, overwhelmed by sheer numbers and speed.
Then something exploded—an oil flask hurled by a fleeing soldier ignited a barricade. The flames cast wild shadows and set several goblins ablaze. Their screams were shrill and alien, echoing endlessly.
Through the smoke and chaos, Eren saw one of the goblins standing apart from the rest. Taller. Covered in bones and beads. Its eyes glowed a sickly green.
The chieftain.
It locked eyes with him. Smiled.
And then, as if compelled by instinct or fate, Eren ducked behind the supply crate and threw open one of the smaller bags—a desperate search for anything useful. His fingers brushed something smooth and metallic. A shard of that same strange material etched into the tower walls.
The moment he touched it, everything stopped.
Time slowed. The battlefield went silent. The shard pulsed in his palm, sending a cold jolt up his arm and into his mind. For a heartbeat, Eren saw the warren—not just with his eyes, but from above. Paths, tunnels, heat signatures, even the goblin positions flared in his vision like ink on parchment.
A voice—not his—whispered in his thoughts.
"Tether accepted. Interface complete."
Then it was gone.
The shard dimmed.
Time resumed.
Eren blinked, heart racing. His hands trembled, but the chaos around him made sense now—he could see how the battle was flowing, where the goblins were clustering, where the guards were faltering.
He stood up. "The chieftain's flanking left!" he shouted without thinking. "Tunnel on the right leads to the heart of the nest—cut them off there!"
A Royal Guard turned, stunned. But Rorik heard. He barked the command.
It worked.
Steel surged through the right flank, disrupting the goblins' momentum. The chieftain howled in fury, leaping into the fray to restore control—but too late. A volley of arrows struck it down. The goblins broke. They scattered like rats, vanishing into crevices too small for men to follow.
The floor was theirs.
For now.
...
Later, as the dead were counted and wounds dressed, Rorik approached Eren. He eyed the young porter with a frown, not entirely unkind.
"You've got a good head in battle," he said. "We lost a dozen. Could've been more."
Eren said nothing. The shard still burned against his chest, hidden beneath his tunic.
Rorik studied him. "You're no warrior. But keep proving useful, and you'll stay alive longer than most."
He walked away.
Eren sat in the corner of the camp, staring into the fire, heart still racing.
Something was changing.
The Spire was watching.
And now, so was he.