The cost of dunehaven

RUMBLE.

The ground trembled beneath him.

Max's eyes snapped open. Blurred shapes hovered above, their voices dull, distant—like echoes from underwater. His limbs felt heavy. A sharp throb pulsed behind his eyes, each beat louder than the last.

'What… happened?'

A bitter memory surfaced.

The food. That taste. The ai message.

'We were poisoned.'

Pain flared behind his eyes. His body coiled.

He surged upright.

One of the figures flinched. An older man, face lined with age and shadow, snapped his head toward Max. His eyes widened.

"Shit, he's awake."

Max's gaze sharpened. He scanned the space around him. Stone walls stretched outward, damp and cracked. The air was cold. This wasn't the inn.

His jaw clenched. His voice cut through the silence.

"Why did you poison the food?"

Low. Measured. Coiled like a blade.

"And where the hell am I?"

Another tremor rolled through the chamber. Dust and pebbles rained down from above.

The old man didn't flinch. He held Max's stare, his face unreadable. Then he breathed out, slow and calm.

"Oh? Poison?"

His tone felt wrong and too smooth.

"I wouldn't know anything about that. We would never do such a thing."

Max's fingers curled into fists.

'Liar.'

His eyes darted—corners, exits, shadows. No sign of Ash. No sign of Kael.

Only stone.

Only strangers.

His voice dropped lower.

"Where are they?"

The old man tilted his head, expression flat.

"Ah, right. About that."

A pause.

Then—

"The sandworms attacked the settlement. Your brothers fought to protect it. They brought you here so you could assist once you woke up."

Max didn't move. He didn't blink.

The silence between them thickened like fog.

Another tremor rolled through the stone floor, deeper than before. The walls groaned, thin cracks creeping along the surface.

Max stepped forward. His tone cut like a blade.

"You expect me to believe that?"

The old man's smile didn't waver. It stayed stretched across his face like it had been carved there.

"Dunehaven is in danger."

BOOM.

The floor lurched. Chunks of dust and stone dropped from the ceiling.

Max felt the quake in his chest.

The old man kept his eyes on him.

"Your brothers need you."

Max didn't answer. He turned toward the edge of the pit—a jagged hole that dropped into darkness. The light barely reached the bottom.

"How long have they been down there?"

A shrug.

"Hard to say. Five minutes? Maybe ten?"

Max didn't flinch.

"If they've lasted that long, they're fine."

The old man's mouth twitched.

"What? How can you be so sure? Just how strong are they?"

Max crossed his arms.

"The hot-headed one? He's a Master-stage fire user."

The words spread fast. People shifted. A ripple of whispers moved through the crowd. Faces turned. Eyes widened.

The old man's voice dropped.

"Fire user?"

He stared harder.

"Wait… you don't mean—are you related to Flame?"

Max let out a breath.

"Yeah."

Silence pressed down.

The name hit like thunder. Fear rolled through the chamber, thick and quiet.

Max didn't care. His eyes stayed on the pit.

"We need to get back to the surface," he said.

"Do you have a communicator?"

The old man shook his head.

"Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Ours is broken."

Max's mouth twitched.

"Then let me fix it."

The old man scoffed.

"You? What do you think you are, some kind of tech genius?"

Max rolled his neck.

"I was the number one student at World Tech Academy."

The air shifted.

The old man blinked. His expression cracked for the first time. Eyes scanned Max like they were trying to peel back skin and see what was underneath.

Everyone knew what the Academy was. It wasn't a school. It was a forge. A place where the world's sharpest minds created the tools that built cities and changed wars. People who graduated didn't just study tech—they rewrote how it worked.

'And he says had been at the top?' the old man thought

RUMBLE.

The ground trembled again. Stones tumbled from the ceiling. The chamber groaned under the weight above.

Max barely moved. His focus stayed locked on the hole.

"If that thing is anything like the worms outside, Kael should handle it easily."

A breath of silence.

The old man spoke low.

"It's not."

Max's brow tensed.

"The ones outside were Tier 4," the old man said.

"The one down there…"

He hesitated.

"…is Tier 6."

Max froze.

His pulse kicked up.

'A Tier 6?'

His boots scraped against the rock as he stepped closer to the edge, staring into the dark. Thoughts raced. Breath short.

Kael and Ash were strong.

But Tier 6?

He grit his teeth.

"What the hell are they thinking?"

'They knew what Tier 6 meant. They had to. Even Kael should've known.'

They couldn't win that kind of fight alone.

————

On Varagos, there was a time when humans and creatures shared the world. That balance ended the day the portal gates appeared—rips in space, silent and sudden. From them came monsters, each one worse than the last.

And for some unknown reason, every one of them matched the strength of Veinflow warriors.

With seven known stages of Veinflow, humanity categorized these threats into seven tiers:

Tier 1 creatures matched an Initiated stage user.

Tier 2 equaled an Novice stage user.

Tier 3 rivaled an Adept stage user.

Tier 4 stood on par with a Expert stage user.

Tier 5 reached the might of a Master stage user.

Tier 6 was the true nightmare—it held power equal to a Grandmaster stage user.

Tier 7 … was beyond comprehension, a force equal to an Ascendant stage warrior.

'A Tier 6 sandworm.'

Max's stomach dropped.

A Master-stage warrior stood no chance against it.

For Kael to even attempt this fight… was suicide.

RUMBLE.

The cavern groaned, dust spilling from the ceiling in thin streams.

Max clenched his fists.

'Dammit. kael is strong, but not that strong. Even a Master-stage fire user shouldn't be able to take down a creature of equal tier. And we talking about one that is almost immune to fire damage. And Ash—what the hell was he thinking? Did he forget the warning?'

The old man looked away. His eyes didn't meet Max's anymore.

Then—

A voice echoed from deeper inside the cavern.

"I got the Nightveil Drought."

The old man flinched. His breath caught, face tightening as if something sharp had pierced him.

"Shit."

Max didn't move. His mind locked into place, threads snapping together, forming a picture too clear to ignore.

His face darkened.

"…It all makes sense now."

The old man lifted his hands.

"It's not what you think—"

Max's eyes fixed on him, cold and cutting.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

No one answered.

His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.

"You were planning to feed us to that thing."

The room froze.

Breaths held. Eyes wide. The truth spread like fire through dry grass.

Max's gaze drifted across the others. The settlers. Quiet and Still. Guilt heavy on every face.

"The worms didn't avoid this place because of walls. Or luck. It was that thing below. That monster."

His gut twisted.

"The way you guys looked at us. Like you knew. You pitied us. Like we were already dead. You all knew."

Max turned back to the old man. His words dropped like stone.

"But worst of all…"

He took a step forward.

"…Now I understand."

His chest rose and fell, steady. But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He thought of the woman from before. The way she clutched her child. Not with hope—but fear. Like she was hiding her.

His throat tightened.

"I've seen fewer kids here than in any other settlement."

The words scraped out of him.

"You've been feeding children to that thing."

Gasps rang out.

The air shifted. One man stumbled back. Another lowered his head, jaw clenched.

Nobody denied it.

Max didn't blink.

"You were going to use me to put it back to sleep, weren't you?"

His voice cracked with anger.

"And you sent my brothers down there to die."