The rhythmic pulse drew them deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels. It was a steady, hypnotic thrumming that resonated through the rock, growing stronger as they advanced. Hope mingled with trepidation; such a powerful, regular energy signature likely indicated a significant installation – potentially an exit route, an environmental system, or another dormant Guardian. Rhys kept his Echo Sense extended, constantly scanning, while Boulder moved with watchful silence, pry bar held ready.
Before committing fully to investigating the pulse, Rhys paused. He needed every advantage. He retrieved the Weaver datapad again. Bolstered by the refined Aether absorbed from the conduit leak, his Pool now sat at a more functional, if still far from full, thirty-five percent. He focused his will, holding the shard firmly against the slate's surface, picturing the concept of 'access,' 'map,' 'guidance.' He channeled a steady stream of Aether, carefully modulating its frequency to match the resonant hum he now associated with Weaver technology, amplified slightly by the shard.
For several agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, with a soft chime that seemed to echo only in Rhys's mind, a section of the flowing blue patterns on the slate solidified. A faint, shimmering projection materialized a few inches above the device. It wasn't a complex interface, but a stark, three-dimensional wireframe map depicting the immediate network of tunnels they were in. Key conduits were marked with thin lines, structural weaknesses highlighted in amber, and their current position pulsed with a tiny green dot.
It was a limited map, covering only the surrounding few hundred yards, and flickered intermittently as if damaged or running on low power, but it was a revelation. "Boulder, look," Rhys breathed, angling the faint projection so his companion could see.
Boulder peered at the ethereal lines, his usual stoicism breaking into a grunt of surprised understanding. "Weaver tech," he murmured.
Using the map was an immediate game-changer. Rhys identified the tunnel branch leading directly towards the source of the rhythmic pulse. The map also highlighted a section ahead marked with an ominous glyph Rhys instinctively interpreted as a radiation hazard, allowing them to choose a parallel route. It showed another tunnel further on marked as collapsed, saving them from a potential dead end. Navigation became less blind guesswork, more calculated progress, though the map's limited range and flickering nature meant constant vigilance was still required.
The map led them to a wider section of corridor, clearly designed as more than just a transit passage. It might have been an observation point or a junction station. Here, the walls were not rough-hewn rock or decaying brick, but smoother panels, though stained and scarred by time. And these panels were covered, floor to ceiling, with intricate engravings and faded painted murals – the Weaver's Scrawl.
Rhys stopped, utterly captivated. Unlike the fragmented images in the ruin proper, these were more extensive, more detailed, though still damaged. Stylized figures, tall and slender, were depicted interacting directly with strands of luminous energy, weaving them into complex patterns around crystalline structures and geometric shapes. Some diagrams showed energy flowing within the figures themselves, circulating through pathways subtly different from the meridians described in fragmented cultivator lore. Others illustrated the manipulation of external forces, shaping light, directing currents, interfacing with devices similar to the nexus crystal he'd encountered.
It was a silent textbook, a visual encyclopedia of Aetherium Weaving left by its ancient masters. Rhys moved along the walls slowly, tracing the lines with his fingers, extending his Echo Sense to feel the faint residual energy clinging to the ancient pigments and carved lines. He felt an echo of the intent behind the images – a profound understanding of energy dynamics, a harmony between weaver and Aether that made his own fumbling efforts feel clumsy and crude.
His attention fixed on one relatively simple, well-preserved diagram. It showed energy circulating within a humanoid figure, not just pooling in the dantian, but flowing in a smooth, continuous loop through the limbs and torso, returning to the center, minimizing waste, maximizing efficiency. It resembled some meditation techniques he'd vaguely heard of, but the depicted pathways and the emphasis on a closed loop felt distinct.
Recognizing a potential practical application, Rhys found a relatively clean spot on the floor and sat, holding the shard for focus. He drew upon his Aether Pool, visualizing the energy not just sitting there, but flowing, following the pattern depicted on the wall. He guided it slowly, carefully, up his spine, through his shoulders and arms, down through his legs, returning to the Pool in his dantian. It was difficult, requiring precise control and sustained concentration. His first few attempts felt jerky, inefficient, consuming more energy than they seemed to conserve.
But he persisted, using the diagram as a visual anchor, feeling the faint resonance from the wall guiding his intuition. Gradually, the flow smoothed out. He felt the Aether moving more fluidly, the circulation becoming less taxing. When he finally stopped, having completed several loops, his Aether Pool felt… cleaner, more responsive. The circulation hadn't increased the amount of energy, but it seemed to have improved its quality, its 'temper', making it easier to control and potentially more efficient to deploy. It was a small insight, a tiny refinement learned directly from the Weaver's Scrawl, but it felt significant – proof that progress could be made through understanding, not just raw absorption.
Feeling marginally improved, Rhys consulted the flickering datapad map again. According to the projection, the corridor they were in, the one containing the Weaver's Scrawl, terminated just ahead. A thick red line marked the end, labeled with a glyph he interpreted as 'Bulkhead Seal – Level 7'. No alternative routes were indicated on this section of the map. It seemed they had followed the path of knowledge only to arrive at an impassable dead end.
He approached the indicated location cautiously. A massive bulkhead door, crafted from the same dark, seamless material as the Guardian and the ruin walls, blocked the corridor completely. It was featureless, imposing, no obvious seams or controls visible. Frustration warred with apprehension. Had they come all this way just to be trapped?
As Rhys examined the seemingly impenetrable barrier, running his hand over its cool, smooth surface, his Echo Sense, sharpened by his recent circulation practice, picked up something faint, easily missed. Thin, almost undetectable energy signatures filtering through minute cracks near the ceiling and upper edges of the bulkhead. They felt distorted, filtered through layers of rock and metal, but carried a chaotic, familiar resonance – the ambient energetic noise of the surface world, or at least, the upper levels of the Undercity. Mixed within it, he felt the distinct, aggressive pulses of multiple life forms using crude tools – the unmistakable signature of intruders.
Someone was digging, drilling, trying to break in from the other side of the sealed bulkhead. And they were close.