As soon as Jax announced his departure, Gareth’s expression twisted into one of sheer panic.

“Hold on, you’re going into the mountains? That place is a death trap! There’s a reason they call it Mount Sepulcher—nobody knows how many corpses are buried in there. Even the Iron Spear Syndicate wouldn’t dare march in without a heavy escort!”

Jax dismissed the concern with a casual wave of his hand. “Relax. The threat level is manageable during the day. Insectoids are nocturnal hunters; they usually stay underground until the sun drops. It’ll be a quick run.”

Silas, who had been shoveling food into his mouth, slammed his bowl down. “Boss, I’m coming with you!”

Jax glanced at the burly man. “Negative. You’re on solo duty. Finish eating, then head down to the mine. We need to stockpile more crystals.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Silas didn’t hesitate. If Jax gave an order, Silas followed it. No questions asked.

Barnaby, sitting nearby, looked like he was about to cry. “Bro, take me with you. Please. I don’t want to stay here without you!”

Hearing the desperation in the kid’s voice, Jax reached out and gave his shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.

“Cut it out. You need to hold the fort. Help the others gather firewood and keep the camp running. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Barnaby opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Jax’s steel-hard gaze silenced him. He slumped back, defeated.

Suddenly, Kaleb, who had been eating silently in the corner, looked up.

“I’ll go. I heard you have a Rifle. I know how to use it. Back in the city defense force, I was the division shooting champion.”

Jax’s eyebrows shot up. This was new information. “You? A champion shooter in the defense force?”

Kaleb nodded, tapping the side of his temple near his eyes. “My vision is… different. Both eyes are better than 20/10. I can spot a gnat on a wall from a hundred yards out. My sister, Xiao’an, is the same.”

Jax was genuinely surprised. Kaleb had kept that card close to his chest.

The Sprawl’s city defense force was widely considered a joke—a dumping ground for conscripts who were lucky to get one meal a day, let alone target practice. But with tens of thousands of personnel, the law of averages meant there had to be a few diamonds in the rough. If Kaleb had actually won a championship in that chaotic mess, he wasn’t just good; he was exceptional.

Jax considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Grab your gear. You’re with me. Everyone else, hold the perimeter.”

The meal was finished in silence. Ten minutes later, Jax and Kaleb were marching toward the mouth of the valley.

This was Jax’s first excursion into the pass, and his curiosity was warring with his survival instincts. The name ‘Mount Sepulcher’ wasn’t exactly inviting—it promised death, ancient and forgotten.

Jax handed the Rifle to Kaleb.

The ex-soldier handled the weapon with practiced ease. He didn’t just hold it; he checked the action, inspected the sights, and snapped into a few dry-fire aiming drills. In seconds, he confirmed the weapon’s zero.

Instead of slinging the rifle over his shoulder, Kaleb cradled it in a low-ready position across his chest. It was the stance of a man ready to engage a target at a split-second’s notice.

Jax gripped his own weapon of choice: the long-handled sledgehammer.

Against the insectoids, a blade was often a liability. It could get stuck in thick chitin or chip against armored plates. But a hammer? A hammer delivered blunt force trauma. It carried kinetic energy that ignored armor, liquefying the organs beneath the shell. One good swing could shatter a Sandworm’s skull without demanding excessive stamina.

As they pushed deeper into the gorge, the temperature plummeted.

The towering peaks on either side blocked out the sun, casting the trail into perpetual shadow. After thirty minutes, the walls were so high that Jax had to crane his neck back just to see a sliver of the sky.

Kaleb’s eyes never stopped scanning the horizon. The path was a narrow, winding throat of stone. There was no greenery here—only jagged rocks and drifting dust.

The wind picked up, howling through the canyon gaps like a mourning ghost. The sound was low and dissonant, enough to make the hair on the back of anyone’s neck stand straight up.

Jax was focused on the horizon, not the ground.

CRUNCH.

A sickening, brittle sound echoed from beneath his boot.

Jax froze instantly.

In the same heartbeat, Kaleb snapped his rifle up, aiming at the ground near Jax’s feet.

Jax slowly lifted his boot. Beneath the thin layer of windblown sand lay a cluster of bleached white fragments. He used the toe of his boot to brush away the dust, revealing the unmistakable curve of a human skull.

The bone had shattered under his weight.

Jax and Kaleb exchanged a grim look.

“Mount Sepulcher lives up to the name,” Jax muttered, his voice low. “Those represent failed expeditions. Stay sharp.”

The warning was as much for himself as it was for Kaleb.

They slowed their pace, moving with deliberate stealth. They hadn’t seen a single insectoid yet, but the emptiness was worse than a fight. The silence felt heavy, pregnant with violence.

Fear of the unknown always cut deeper than the monster you could see.

The air grew thick with tension. Jax could hear the blood rushing in his ears and the rasp of his own breathing. The deeper they went, the quieter the wind became, until the only sound was the crunch of gravel under their boots.

Ten minutes later, Jax suddenly raised a fist. Halt.

Kaleb dropped into a tactical crouch instantly, stock pressed to his shoulder, finger on the trigger guard.

“Status?” Kaleb whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Jax didn’t answer. He tilted his head, listening.

From somewhere deep in the shadows ahead, there was a sound. Scrape… Scrape…

It was the sound of something hard dragging against stone.

Jax shot Kaleb a look and pressed a finger to his lips. Kaleb stopped breathing entirely. Sweat beaded on the sniper’s forehead, rolling down into his eyes. The salt stung, but he didn’t dare move a hand to wipe it away.

The valley floor was cold now, hovering around fifty degrees Fahrenheit—a shocking contrast to the hundred-degree baking heat of the wasteland outside. The chill seeped into their bones.

Scrape.

There it was again. Louder.

Jax pointed a finger into the gloom. “Twelve o’clock. Friction movement.”

Kaleb’s eyes widened, the whites visible in the gloom. He scanned the rocks, the rifle barrel shaking just a fraction. He was chanting a silent mantra to himself—steady, steady—but his legs were vibrating with adrenaline.

Jax wasn’t immune to the fear. His stats might be superhuman, but his mind was still adjusting. He wasn’t invincible. If a swarm hit them here, in this narrow choke point, stats wouldn’t save them.

They crept forward, inch by inch.

The path hooked sharply to the right ahead. A blind corner.

They reached the edge of the turn. Jax counted down with his fingers. Three. Two. One.

They swung out together, weapons ready.

The path widened into a massive natural amphitheater filled with bizarre geological formations.

Stone spires—stalagmites—rose from the ground like jagged teeth. Thousands of them. The wind and sand had polished them until they shone with a dull, oily luster in the dim light. It looked like a forest of spears.

“Wait,” Kaleb hissed.

He clutched his chest, as if his heart had just skipped a beat. Through the gaps in the stone forest, he had seen movement.

A tuft of long, coarse hair had whipped behind a spire.

Kaleb nudged Jax with his elbow, keeping his eyes locked downrange.

“Contact?” Jax whispered, barely moving his lips.

Kaleb swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. “Positive. Something’s back there. Long hair. It’s… it’s looking at us.”

Jax felt the hairs on his arms rise.

Rustle.

The sound came from behind a massive spire forty yards out.

Then, the creature stepped into view.

It was a nightmare made flesh.

The body was that of a massive caterpillar, segmented and bloated, covered in thick, matted bristles that swayed in the wind. But it was the head that made Jax’s stomach turn.

It wasn’t an insect head. It was mammalian. A giant, distorted rat’s head, complete with twitching whiskers and wet, black eyes, was grafted onto the worm-like body.

The hybrid monstrosity seemed to sense their gaze.

Its eyes suddenly flared with a malevolent crimson light.

The creature’s jaw unhinged, revealing rows of needle-teeth, and it let out a high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek.

In the next second, the bristles on its back rippled, and it surged forward, charging straight at them with terrifying speed.