The gate looked like a wound in the air.
Three meters tall, vertical, hovering a foot off the ground at the base of the old quarry wall. The edges shimmered grey-red, like a scab that hadn't finished healing, and the space inside was dark. Not shadow. Something else. The kind of dark where you know whatever's in there doesn't belong out here.
F-rank. The Ashvein. Greymarsh's only permanent dungeon.
"I changed my mind," Coby said. "I don't want to do this."
"You signed the registration form."
"I wasn't thinking straight when I signed that."
"That was forty minutes ago."
"Forty very difficult minutes."
Three other people stood at the gate entrance with them. Two women and a man, all from yesterday's ceremony. The taller woman was a Defender, Rare grade. She had a shield strapped to her back that was almost as wide as she was and she kept adjusting the strap like it didn't sit right. The shorter woman was a Caster, one of the Rares from the ceremony. Hadn't said anything to anyone. The man was another Striker like Coby, Common grade, and he was doing stretches that looked like he'd learned them from a book.
Five people. Standard F-rank party.
None of them had been inside a gate before. That was the point. First run. Prove you can handle it or the Guild marks your file and you spend the rest of your career hauling supplies behind people who can.
The quarry was quiet except for the hum coming off the gate. Different from the Bulwark's Hum. Higher. Like someone holding a note they should've let go of already. Morning air tasted like iron. Or maybe that was just Greymarsh.
"So," Coby said. Bouncing on his heels. "You're a summoner."
"Yeah."
"What do you summon?"
Renn didn't answer right away. He'd read the skill description on his status screen six times since yesterday. Summon Iron Footman. An armored melee construct forged from Siege Mana. He knew what the words meant individually. Together they meant something he hadn't tried yet.
"Guess we'll find out."
Coby stared at him. "You don't know?"
"I haven't done it yet."
"You haven't." Coby stared at him. "Renn. We're about to walk into a dungeon. With monsters. Actual monsters. And you haven't tested your one ability?"
"Didn't have time."
"You had all night."
"I was eating dinner."
Coby opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Okay. Alright. Fine. I'm going to pretend that's a reasonable answer because if I think about it too hard I'll actually throw up."
The guild coordinator, a tired-looking woman in a brown coat who'd clearly been doing this for too many years, waved them forward. "Party Five. You're cleared. Ashvein F-rank, first three chambers. Clear and report. Two hours before the next party rotates in. Don't die. Paperwork's terrible."
The gate pulled at them when they got close. Not physically. More like the air had a direction now and it was pointing in. Renn's boots crunched on gravel and then on something else and then there was no ground for about half a second and then there was.
The Ashvein.
Inside was a mine. Or used to be. Tunnels carved from dark stone, veins of dull metal running through the walls. Ceiling low enough that the tall Defender had to duck. Light came from the metal veins, a dim reddish glow that made everything look like old rust.
Smelled like wet rock and something sour underneath. Not rot. More like water that's been sitting too long in a closed room.
The Defender, whose name turned out to be Kael, took point. Shield planted in front, short careful steps. The Caster, Lira, stayed in the back. The other Striker hung in the middle looking like he wished he'd signed up for something else.
"Contact," Kael said.
Two shapes in the tunnel ahead. Low, fast, moving along the walls. Renn couldn't make out details in the dim light but he could see teeth. A lot of teeth.
Iron Mites. F-rank. The Ashvein's basic mob. Size of a large dog, six legs, mandibles that could crack bone.
Coby's sword was out. Hands tight on the grip, stance textbook. Right foot forward, weight centered, blade at chest height. Exactly what the manual said.
"Stay behind the shield," Kael said. "They're fast."
Renn's heart was going. Not exactly fear. More like standing on a ledge and looking down. He reached for the skill. Summon Iron Footman.
The mana left his body like someone pulling a thread through his sternum. Heavy. Dense. It poured out of him and hit the ground about two meters ahead and nothing dramatic happened. No cracks in the stone. No glowing. The mana just pooled there, grey and thick, and then it started taking shape.
Iron first. The feet. Armored boots stamping into existence on the stone floor. Then greaves. Then a torso wrapped in grey-black plate that looked real. Not see-through. Not shimmer. Iron. Or something close enough that the difference didn't matter. Gauntlets. A helm with a narrow slit visor. And in the right hand a broadsword with a single edge that caught the dim red light.
Footman number one.
The tunnel went quiet. Even the Iron Mites stopped for a second.
"What," Coby said.
Then nothing else for a while.
Kael turned around. Her shield arm dropped a couple inches. She was staring at the construct.
"That's a summon?" she said.
"Yeah."
"It's solid."
It was. The Footman stood there on the tunnel floor and it was solid and grey and armored and it held its sword at an angle that wasn't decorative. Other summons Renn had seen in demonstrations before the ceremony were see-through. Wispy. Energy given shape but not weight.
This wasn't that.
This was a soldier standing in a tunnel waiting for something to kill.
Renn felt the connection through his chest. The Legion Bond. A thread from him to the construct and back. He could feel where the Footman was the way you feel where your hand is without looking at it.
He thought: forward.
The Footman moved. No delay. Step, step, sword up, and the first Iron Mite came around Kael's shield and the broadsword caught it across the middle and the thing came apart into grey dust before the halves hit the floor.
A steel panel showed up at the edge of his vision.
[KILL CONFIRMED]
[Target: Iron Mite (F-Class)]
[EXP Gained: +40]
[Core Crystal: 1x Iron-Grade]
Second Mite lunged. Footman pivoted. Boot planted, backhand swing. Dead. Forty more experience.
Coby hadn't moved. His sword was still up but he was watching the Footman.
"Renn."
"Yeah."
"That thing just killed two monsters in about three seconds."
"I saw."
"It's level one."
"I know."
Coby lowered his sword slowly. Then raised it. Then lowered it again. "Okay. I have questions. A lot of questions. But we're in a dungeon so I'm saving them for when things aren't trying to bite me."
They moved deeper. Renn summoned two more. Footman two, Footman three. Same process each time. Mana pulling out through his chest, pooling, iron taking shape from the ground up. Each one cost him. Not a lot yet but he could feel it getting lighter in there. Like carrying a bag of sand with holes in the bottom.
Three Iron Footmen in a tunnel. They moved in formation without him telling them to. Nothing complex. Just spacing. About a meter between each, and when the tunnel narrowed they went single file and when it widened they spread back out. He hadn't told them any of that. The Legion Bond carried intent, not instructions. The Footmen figured out the rest on their own.
That was interesting.
Lira threw a mana bolt past the lead Footman and it hit an Iron Mite in the face and the Mite staggered and Footman one finished it with a downward cut. The other Striker, whose name Renn still hadn't caught, killed a Mite on the right flank. Good technique but stiff. Like someone performing a move they'd practiced a hundred times instead of actually fighting.
Coby killed one too. Messy. His form broke halfway through the swing and the Mite got a mandible on his forearm before the blade went through its skull. Blood on his sleeve. Not deep.
"I'm fine," he said before anyone asked. "It's fine. I'm fine."
First room cleared. Seven Iron Mites dead. Renn counted. His Footmen got four. Lira got two. The Strikers split one between them, more or less. Kael hadn't killed anything but she'd blocked three charges and redirected two Mites straight into the Footmen's blades. Good shield work.
System dumped a summary.
[CHAMBER 1 CLEARED]
[Party EXP Distributed]
[Renn Aldis: +85 EXP]
[Iron Footman #1: +60 EXP]
[Iron Footman #2: +40 EXP]
[Iron Footman #3: +40 EXP]
[Loot: Core Crystal (Iron) x3, Iron Mite Chitin x4]
Three iron-grade crystals. Not worth much on their own. But three of them would buy a week of Maren's medicine.
Second chamber was bigger. More Mites. Renn kept his three Footmen tight and Kael anchored the left and they worked through it. Lira's mana bolts lit up the dark and for a second the Footmen's armor caught the light and they looked like something out of a painting nobody would hang in a nice room. Grey iron in red light.
He lost Footman three in the second chamber. An Iron Mite got under its guard. Mandibles found the gap where the greave met the boot and the construct went down. Didn't make a sound. Just dropped to one knee and the armor cracked along the torso and it broke apart into grey mana that hung in the air for a second and then was gone.
Renn felt it. The Bond snapping. Like something in his chest that was there and then wasn't. Quick. Then nothing.
He summoned a replacement. Footman three again. Same iron, same stance. But the first version had been in two fights. This one hadn't been in any. Shouldn't matter. Did though.
Third chamber. Last one on their ticket. Bigger space, ceiling high enough to stand straight. The Iron Mites here were bigger. Level 3 instead of level 1. More armor on them, thicker mandibles, faster.
Eight of them.
Kael set her shield. "Formation. Tight."
Renn's three Footmen moved before he thought about it. They stepped in front of Kael, not behind, and they did something he hadn't told them to do. They overlapped. Footman one center. Two on the right. Three on the left. And they angled so the swords covered each other's open sides.
Not a real formation. Not yet. But something close. The shape of one.
The Mites came all at once. All eight.
Footman one took the center two. Cut, step, second one dead before the first finished turning to dust. Footman two caught one on the right and the impact shoved it back a step and the Footman planted its boot and drove forward and the Mite folded around the blade.
Coby was yelling something. Couldn't hear it over the noise.
Three Mites hit the left side. Footman three and Kael's shield caught them. One got through. Fast. Heading for Lira in the back. Renn felt a spike of something sharp in his chest and Footman one left center position and crossed three meters in two steps and brought the blade down on the Mite's back.
Twelve seconds. Eight dead.
The chamber was quiet.
Renn was breathing hard even though he hadn't done anything physical. Mana drain. His chest felt hollow. He checked his status. Sixty percent. Three Footmen active, ten slots total, three used.
Loot panel. Longer this time.
[CHAMBER 3 CLEARED]
[Party EXP Distributed]
[Renn Aldis: +340 EXP]
[Level Up: Level 1 -> Level 2]
[Might: 11 (+1)]
[Spirit: 24 (+2)]
[Command: 27 (+2)]
[Iron Footman #1: +180 EXP]
[Rank: Recruit -> Soldier]
[Might: 258 (+8)]
[Grit: 308 (+8)]
[Loot Acquired]
[Core Crystal (Iron) x5]
[Iron Mite Chitin x7]
[Rare Drop: Mite Fang (D-grade material)]
Footman one ranked up. Recruit to Soldier. Renn looked at the numbers and they didn't mean much because he had nothing to compare them to. Two hundred and fifty-eight Might. For a Black Iron grade construct, was that high? Low? He'd never seen another summoner's stats.
Figure it out later.
The guild coordinator was waiting outside. She checked her clipboard. Thirty-one minutes for three chambers.
"Casualties?"
"One construct lost," Renn said. "Resummoned."
"Party injuries?"
"Shallow cut." Coby held up his arm. Bleeding had stopped. "I'm fine."
She wrote something and moved on. Next party.
Outside the quarry Renn dismissed his three Footmen. They came apart in reverse order. Three, two, one. Iron folding back into mana, mana pulling back into his chest. Like putting sand back in the bag. Tank at fifty-four percent.
Coby sat on a rock, cleaning his sword with a rag. Slowly. More thinking than cleaning.
"So that's what you summon."
"Yeah."
"Iron soldiers."
"Iron Footmen. System's word for them."
"They fought in formation."
"Sort of."
"They coordinated. Without you saying anything." He stopped cleaning. "I was watching. You didn't say a word and they moved like they'd been training together for years."
Renn sat on another rock. His legs were fine but the mana drain left a tiredness that had nothing to do with muscles. Something deeper than that. Like being empty in a place he couldn't point to.
"Yeah," he said. "They did."
Coby looked at the quarry entrance. Then at Renn.
"Rare grade summoner. Metallic mana affinity." He said it flat. Testing the words. "And your constructs are solid iron and they coordinate without orders and one of them ranked up in its first dungeon."
"The soil thing," Renn said.
Coby snorted. Not mean about it. "Sure. The soil."
He stood up and slid his sword into the scabbard. Blood on his sleeve drying brown.
"Look. Here's the thing. I don't know what your deal is. I don't need to know right now. But those things you made in there? They're not normal summons. I've seen the demonstrations. I've read the books. Those were different."
"I know."
"Do you though?" Coby looked at him straight. Maybe the first time since they'd met where the nervous energy was gone and something else was there instead. "Because you really don't seem like someone who gets what they have."
Renn didn't answer. Wasn't sure Coby was wrong.
They split the loot at the guild counter. Crystals divided by contribution. Renn's Footmen did most of the killing so he got the bigger share. Eight iron-grade crystals. The Mite Fang went to the party pool and they sold it. Sixty credits split five ways. Twelve each.
Eight crystals and twelve credits. Enough for ten days of Maren's medicine. Maybe twelve if the pharmacy hadn't raised prices.
He put the crystals in his coat pocket. They clinked against each other. Small, dull grey, warm from the gate's leftover mana. Didn't look like much.
Three Footmen. First dungeon. Level two.
Three. He started with three.
He could feel the empty slots in his Legion Capacity like rooms in a house with the lights off. Seven more. Seven soldiers he hadn't called yet. And behind those, somewhere in the System, three sealed skills with names he couldn't read and a class that shouldn't exist.
The walk back to town was quiet. Coby talked but it was the background kind. The kind that doesn't need answers. Renn let it go past him. He was thinking about Footman one. The way it broke from center to get to Lira. He hadn't told it to do that. The Bond carried intent, not orders. But that hadn't been intent. That had been a decision. The construct read the situation and moved.
Or his own instinct went through the Bond before his brain caught up. He couldn't tell which.
That part bothered him more than anything else from the gate.