Chapter 60 - Three

The facility was dying around them.

Etzel stared at the three shapes forming in the air.

“Everyone please ignore the collapsing soul laboratory for one minute.”

DK looked at the ceiling.

Stone dust fell onto his armor.

“That may be difficult.”

“Then make it easy.”

The three rewards clarified.

The first became a black iron key with no teeth.

The second became a small silver bell.

The third became a seed.

Not metaphorically.

An actual seed.

Brown.

Dry.

Completely unimpressive.

Etzel stared.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

System text appeared beneath the key.

Etzel frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Mireth leaned closer.

“You have sealed rooms?”

“I hope not.”

DK looked at him.

“You probably do.”

“That was not comforting.”

The bell.

Etzel’s expression changed.

Orsik Vardan.

DK.

His recovered memories were incomplete.

His old world.

Old bonds.

A bell that could call someone connected to him—

or to Etzel.

Dangerous.

Powerful.

And one use.

Then the seed.

Etzel read the last line twice.

Mireth read it too.

“That is vague.”

“System rewards enjoy pretending ambiguity is depth.”

The facility shook.

Lysa shouted from behind them.

“Etzel!”

“I know!”

“You’re bleeding!”

“I also know!”

Jonas was conscious, supported by Lysa near the corridor. Saeva sat on Etzel’s shoulder, exhausted enough that her green glow barely reached his collar.

The unnamed soul whispered again.

Choose.

Etzel looked at the bell.

A direct answer to an unresolved past.

He looked at DK.

The knight noticed.

“No.”

Etzel blinked.

“You don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Yes.”

“You’re becoming irritatingly good at that.”

“If the bell concerns me, do not choose it for me.”

Etzel looked back at the reward.

That decided more than DK probably intended.

The bell promised information.

Maybe a person.

Maybe closure.

But it made DK’s past the center of Etzel’s milestone.

Wrong.

DK’s life belonged to DK.

The key was stranger.

A sealed chamber inside Soul Space could contain anything.

Power.

Memory.

A hidden function.

Or something Etzel had buried without knowing.

Tempting.

Then the seed.

Growth shaped by what he refused to sacrifice.

Etzel looked around.

Jonas alive.

Saeva exhausted but safe.

Mireth standing in a body that belonged to itself.

Hundreds of fragments released instead of consumed.

The entire fight had been about refusing the easy exchange.

One complete soul for many incomplete ones.

One person reduced to material because the numbers looked favorable.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Etzel smiled.

“Oh.”

Mireth looked at him.

“You decided.”

“Yes.”

“Which?”

Etzel reached for the seed.

“Yes.”

The key vanished.

The bell vanished.

The seed fell into his palm.

The timer disappeared.

DK looked at the seed.

“You chose gardening.”

Etzel closed his hand around it.

“Apparently.”

Saeva lifted her head.

“Plant?”

“Eventually.”

Mireth asked:

“What will it become?”

“No idea.”

“That is irresponsible.”

Etzel looked at Mireth.

“I have known you for less than a week and you are criticizing my risk management.”

“Yes.”

“That hurts.”

The floor split.

DK grabbed Etzel by the back of his armor and pulled him away from the crack.

“Move.”

“Excellent point.”

They ran.

The facility did not explode.

It collapsed like a body losing tension.

Roots shriveled.

Metal veins separated from stone.

The passages they had crossed began folding inward.

DK carried Jonas.

Lysa ran beside him.

Etzel carried Saeva after she finally stopped pretending she was not exhausted.

Mireth moved under its own power.

Halfway up the stairwell, it stopped.

Etzel nearly collided with it.

“What?”

Mireth looked back.

“Something remains.”

“No.”

“You did not check.”

“I am using a highly advanced technique called leaving.”

Mireth did not move.

Etzel followed its gaze.

A weak pulse.

Below.

Not from the core.

Not from a pod.

The System returned a faint signal.

Etzel swore.

DK stopped above them.

“Time.”

“I know.”

Etzel handed Saeva to Lysa.

“Thirty seconds.”

DK said nothing.

Which meant twenty.

Etzel and Mireth ran back.

The lower chamber was almost dark.

Roots collapsed around the broken core.

Mireth pointed.

“There.”

Under a slab of pale tissue lay a tiny pod.

Crushed.

Etzel tore it open.

Nothing.

Then—

a flicker.

So weak he almost missed it.

A fragment.

No memory reached him.

No voice.

No wanting.

Only persistence.

Etzel extended temporary guidance.

The System refused.

“Come on.”

Nothing.

Mireth crouched.

“It cannot leave.”

“I can see that.”

“It will end.”

“Yes.”

Mireth looked at Etzel.

“Can the seed help?”

Etzel froze.

The Unclaimed Seed warmed in his fist.

No System prompt.

No instruction.

Just warmth.

He opened his hand.

The seed had split.

A hair-thin root emerged.

Etzel stared.

“You’re kidding.”

Mireth touched nothing.

“What do you refuse to sacrifice?”

The reward description.

Growth shaped by what the bearer refuses to sacrifice.

Etzel looked at the dying fragment.

“One more.”

The seed’s root extended.

It touched the fragment.

Light entered it.

The fragment vanished into the seed.

Etzel’s heart stopped for half a beat.

“Did it eat it?”

“No.”

He laughed once.

“Good.”

The chamber groaned.

Mireth stood.

“Now we leave.”

Etzel pointed at it.

“Finally, a sensible decision.”

They ran.

They reached the surface as the lower facility folded in on itself.

The earth sank.

Not dramatically.

A long depression formed through the trees as underground chambers collapsed.

Then silence.

Real silence.

No eyes.

No screaming in Soul Space.

No fragments.

Just rain beginning again.

Etzel stood beneath it.

Saeva, now awake in Lysa’s arms, lifted one hand.

“Rain.”

Etzel smiled.

“Yeah.”

Mireth raised its hand too.

For a moment nobody spoke.

Then Authority arrived.

Renn came with the first containment team.

Etzel saw his face and immediately knew the conversation would be unpleasant.

Renn looked at the collapsed site.

Jonas.

Lysa.

Mireth.

Etzel.

Then the seed in Etzel’s hand.

“What happened?”

Etzel considered.

“A successful rescue.”

Renn stared.

“Try again.”

“A moderately successful rescue.”

“Deymar.”

“Thirty-seven bodies became one person, eight hundred forty-six incomplete soul structures were removed from an unknown facility, the facility attempted to acquire two protected identities, Mireth developed sarcasm, and I got a seed.”

Renn was silent.

Halven, standing behind him, slowly lowered his tablet.

“You got a what?”

Etzel held it up.

“A seed.”

Renn closed his eyes.

“Of course you did.”

Authority quarantined the entire zone.

Jonas was moved under medical supervision.

Lysa refused to leave him.

The surviving Hunters were extracted.

No organization name emerged from their equipment.

No convenient insignia.

No manifesto.

Only field notes.

Months of tracking modified monsters.

Locations.

Implant samples.

Patterns.

And one repeated observation:

The implants had not spread outward from Exclusion Zone 14.

They had been carried there from somewhere else.

Etzel read that line twice.

“So the facility wasn’t the source.”

Halven shook his head.

“It was a receiver. Maybe a test site.”

“Meaning whoever—or whatever—seeded the Graveback is still active.”

“Yes.”

Etzel looked at the collapsed ground.

One problem solved.

A larger one clarified.

Fair.

Renn approached Mireth.

The construct watched him.

“You are returning to quarantine.”

Mireth’s new face remained still.

“No.”

Renn’s expression hardened.

Etzel stepped between them before either made a worse decision.

“Mireth.”

“I will not return to a place where I am only observed.”

“You are an active security threat.”

“I know.”

That answer surprised Renn.

Mireth continued.

“I accessed systems without permission. I used identities that were not mine. I harmed people.”

Etzel said nothing.

“I will accept restrictions.”

Renn studied it.

“But not quarantine?”

“No.”

“Why should I negotiate with you?”

Mireth looked toward the rain.

“Because if you force me, I will resist.”

DK’s hand moved toward the Greatblade.

Mireth noticed.

“And I do not want to.”

Renn heard it too.

Etzel folded his arms.

“We need a third option.”

Renn looked at him.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

A temporary arrangement followed.

No unrestricted network access.

No identity replication.

No entry into civilian population centers without escort.

A physical monitoring band that Mireth was allowed to inspect before wearing.

And one condition from Mireth:

“My name is Mireth.”

Renn paused.

“I know.”

“Use it in records.”

Not anomaly.

Not construct.

Mireth.

Renn looked at Etzel.

Etzel did not help.

Finally Renn nodded.

“Fine.”

Mireth held out its wrist.

The monitoring band closed around black filament.

Etzel watched.

A legal status did not make Mireth safe.

A name did not make it human.

A good choice did not erase bad ones.

But something had changed.

Mireth had accepted consequences without surrendering identity.

Etzel suspected that was more maturity than many Hunters managed.

Hours later, after decontamination, medical checks, reports, arguments, and a meal large enough to make Halven complain about Authority budgets, Etzel finally sat alone.

Almost alone.

DK stood near the window.

Saeva slept curled on a chair.

The seed rested on the table.

Etzel touched it.

The System opened.

Etzel frowned.

“Unavailable?”

“How many?”

No answer.

“Of course.”

DK looked over.

“You chose it.”

“I know.”

“Regret?”

Etzel thought about the last fragment.

“No.”

The seed pulsed.

Soul Space responded.

The tiny unnamed soul stirred.

Then a second presence answered.

Not a soul.

Not exactly.

The fragment protected inside the seed.

Two incomplete things.

Both alive in different ways.

Etzel leaned back.

Level 15.

He had expected power.

Instead he had received responsibility with gardening instructions.

That felt suspiciously appropriate.

Then Halven burst through the door.

Etzel looked up.

“If this is another monster with surgery, I’m resigning.”

Halven handed him the tablet.

“It isn’t.”

Etzel read.

A Hunter Registry alert.

One name.

One status change.

He stopped joking.

Sivenne Ordel.

Etzel stood.

Maerin Dhal.

The threat in front of them had not shifted just because they had named part of it. Etzel forced himself to stop treating the room like a puzzle long enough to look at the people inside it. That habit had saved him before, but it could also make him forget that the pieces breathed. He checked hands, posture, eyes, the small signs that somebody was reaching the edge before they admitted it. Orsik noticed the inspection and gave the smallest nod. No speech. No reassurance. Just confirmation that somebody else was counting the human cost while Etzel counted mechanisms. Whatever 'Three Rewards and Sixty Seconds' meant by the end of the day, Etzel wanted the next choice to be theirs.

The System remained silent while they repositioned. Etzel preferred that. A message was valuable after understanding; before understanding it could become a crutch. He tested the floor with the butt of his spear, listened to the truth through stone, and shifted his angle by half a step. Nothing dramatic happened. That was information too. Saeva drifted closer, visibly unhappy with the silence. Etzel murmured, 'If the building starts thinking again, I vote we object.' The look Orsik gave him suggested the motion had already failed. Whatever 'Three Rewards and Sixty Seconds' meant by the end of the day, Etzel wanted the next choice to be theirs.

Nobody rushed the next advance. That was new for Etzel. Months ago he would have mistaken speed for initiative and initiative for courage. Now he let the risk show him what it expected. He watched where the walls tightened, where the air shifted, where his companions unconsciously avoided looking. The truth was never only in the monster. Sometimes it was in the room around the monster, and sometimes it was in the person trying hardest not to be afraid of it. Whatever 'Three Rewards and Sixty Seconds' meant by the end of the day, Etzel wanted the next choice to be theirs.

Etzel forced himself to stop treating the room like a puzzle long enough to look at the people inside it. That habit had saved him before, but it could also make him forget that the pieces breathed. He checked hands, posture, eyes, the small signs that somebody was reaching the edge before they admitted it. Orsik noticed the inspection and gave the smallest nod. No speech. No reassurance. Just confirmation that somebody else was counting the human cost while Etzel counted mechanisms. Whatever 'Three Rewards and Sixty Seconds' meant by the end of the day, Etzel wanted the next choice to be theirs.

Tessa Veyr.

Both listed beneath her.

Last known location:

A dungeon that should have been routine.

Etzel picked up his spear.

DK was already moving.

Saeva opened her eyes.

Mireth appeared in the doorway behind Halven.

Etzel looked at all of them.

“So much for gardening.”