The subterranean dark outside the blast-glass windows was a blur of jagged bedrock and absolute black. Inside the retrofitted transport they called Lilith, the noise was deafening.
Lilith didn't run on tracks. The heavy transport glided just inches above the uneven tunnel floor, its engines greedily pulling in ambient mana from the subterranean atmosphere to manipulate the gravity around its reinforced iron hull. It savagely smashed through a nest of subterranean crawlers that had unwisely built their burrow directly in its flight path. The screech of chitinous armor and jagged claws tearing against Lilith's steel hull shrieked through the passenger cabin like dragging metal across a chalkboard.
Nobody inside even flinched.
The cabin smelled heavily of ozone, flaking rust, and the uniquely terrible scent of scorched coffee.
