Date: October 30, 542, from the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The Dead Crater had not earned its name by chance. For most inhabitants of this world, it was merely a legend — a gaping wound in the earth where those who sought either final death or forbidden power disappeared. Datuk sought neither. He sought the limit of his own abilities.
The fall began with deafening silence. The moment his feet left the edge of the cliff, the world above — with its winds, Namida's worries, and the smell of dry grass — ceased to exist. Only gravity remained.
For the first five seconds, Datuk simply fell through absolute, impenetrable darkness. It was so dense it felt tangible, as if he were sinking into a vat of ink. Wind whistled in his ears, tearing at his breath, while the cold air of the Dead Lands lashed his face like a leather whip. Datuk's bright green eyes were wide open, but he could not even see his own nose. His Berserker Spirit, usually boiling in his blood, now lay still, like a coiled beast before a leap. The dwarf felt no fear — only cold, mathematical expectation.
Ten seconds. His falling speed reached the point where air resistance began to press against his chest. Datuk felt his heavy armor vibrate, the straps of the axe on his back straining. He did not know the crater's depth, but he knew one thing: if he did not meet resistance soon, his body would become a bloody pulp at the bottom of this abyss.
Fifteen seconds. The faces of his friends flashed through his mind: Ulvia with her vines, Rosh with his cold calculation, Sobra… The dwarf grinned. *Not today,* he thought.
At twenty seconds, the darkness below began to crack. Deep down, at the edge of visibility, tiny, barely noticeable orange sparks appeared. They looked like fireflies trapped in a jar. But to Datuk's experienced eye, they were a signal. Fire. Torches. The bottom was near.
"Now!" he roared, and his voice, full of pure will, momentarily drowned out the wind's howl.
He twisted in the air, changing his body's position. His hand, with a motion honed to automaticity, yanked the heavy axe from his back. It was a piece of high‑quality steel forged by the finest smiths of Krag‑Mhor — a tool that had become an extension of his forearm.
The crater wall was very close. Datuk felt the cold emanating from the stone before he saw it. Using his momentum, he drove the axe blade into the rock with all his might.
The sound was as if space itself had been torn in two. Sparks flew like a fountain, briefly illuminating the gray, damp walls of the crater, covered with strange growths and deep cracks. The axe screeched as it bit into ancient basalt. Datuk's arms strained, muscles bulging, threatening to tear the sleeves of his shirt. The jerk was so powerful that his shoulder nearly dislocated, but the dwarf only gripped the haft tighter.
His speed began to drop. The blade carved a deep furrow ten meters long in the wall, showering stone chips that rained down into the void. The metal screamed against friction but held. Finally, the motion stopped.
Datuk hung by one arm, breathing heavily. Sweat stung his eyes, and his hand gripping the axe burned with exertion. He looked down. The torchlight was now very close — about thirty meters below him. A considerable height, but for Datuk, whose bones were tougher than granite, it was just a light exercise.
He yanked the axe from the cleft and, without losing a second, let go of the handle. Free fall resumed, but now it was controlled.
Datuk landed on both feet. The impact was heavy; the ground beneath him cracked, sending up a cloud of fine dust and debris. He sank into a deep squat, absorbing the jump's energy, and paused for a moment, listening to the echo of his arrival.
When the dust settled, a majestic yet grim vista opened before him. He stood in a giant cavern that could hold a small castle. The ceiling soared high into shadow, but the edges of the cave were lit by torches set in forged iron brackets driven straight into the stone. The flames were strange — they did not flicker in any wind and had a rich copper‑red hue, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.
The cave was dry. The air smelled of old dust, burnt sulfur, and something else — a sweetish hint of decay, the kind that usually accompanies the lair of predators.
"Quite a hole," Datuk muttered, straightening to his full height. He adjusted his shoulder guard and shifted his grip on the axe. "Namida said no one comes back from here. Let's see what's so special about it."
Looking around, he realized he had no choice. The huge hall narrowed into a wide tunnel leading deeper into the mountain. There were no other exits, and climbing back up the sheer crater wall without gear would be madness even for him.
The tunnel was also lit. Torches lined both sides in a straight line, receding into an endless perspective. This was not a natural formation — someone had built this place. The walls were smooth, almost polished, and underfoot lay even stone slabs, cracked here and there by time.
Datuk moved forward. His iron‑shod boots produced a hollow echo that flew far ahead and returned to him as a distorted whisper. He walked confidently, without trying to hide. The dwarf knew: if anyone was here, they already knew of his arrival. Stealth was never his strong suit; his strength lay in open confrontation.
He had gone about a hundred meters when the silence began to change. To the echo of his steps was added another sound — a pattering, scraping noise of many paws on stone. And a squeaking. High‑pitched, shifting into ultrasound that made his teeth ache.
Datuk stopped. He felt the air ahead grow denser. From the shadows between the torches, about thirty paces ahead, figures began to emerge.
They were rats. But not the small rodents that scurry through cellars. These creatures were a meter tall, with powerful arched backs and muscular legs armed with long yellow claws. Their fur was sparse, patchy, and beneath it showed gray, wrinkled skin. But the most frightening were their eyes — bright red, glowing with an inner fire of rage.
Five monsters. They did not just run — they moved in sync, like a single organism. Datuk immediately sensed their auras.
*Warriors,* he noted. *Every one of them. Not a bad start.*
The rats did not wait. With a sharp, piercing squeal, they charged. The first creature made an incredible leap, aiming for the dwarf's throat. Its claws whistled through the air, cutting the space.
Datuk did not channel energy into his axe — he simply used the weight of his body and the force of inertia. A short, sharp thrust. The axe traced a semicircle, and the heavy steel met the first rat's skull. A distinct crack of bone rang out, and the beast, not even having time to squeal, flew to the wall, sliding down it like a limp sack.
Two other rats attacked simultaneously from the flanks. Datuk spun on his heels. He used the axe haft to block one rat's lunge and immediately kicked the other in the belly. His boot, reinforced with a steel plate, sank into the monster's soft underbelly, sending it flying several meters.
The remaining two rats showed unexpected cunning. One dived at his feet, trying to bite his tendons, while the other circled behind.
"Trying tactics, are you?" Datuk bared his teeth in a predatory grin. "You picked the wrong dwarf!"
He jumped, letting the lower rat pass beneath him, and at the apex of his leap brought the axe down on the one behind. The blade sank deep into the creature's spine, cleaving it in two. Dark, thick blood spattered the stone slabs, but the dwarf did not even wince.
Landing, he instantly reversed his grip on the axe, extending his reach. The last two rats, seeing their kin fall, hesitated for a moment — and that second was enough. Datuk spun like a steel tornado. The heavy axe swept through the air, and the monsters' heads rolled across the floor, severed in a single clean stroke.
The skirmish ended as quickly as it had begun. The carcasses of the giant rats lay in pools of dark blood, and silence returned to the tunnel, broken only by the crackle of the torches.
Datuk lowered his axe. His breathing had not even quickened. He looked at his hands — they were stained with monster blood, but inside him a pleasant warmth spread. It was not energy; it was that feeling that awoke every time he smelled a real fight.
He wiped the axe blade on the nearest rat's hide, leaving a crimson streak on the gray fur. Then he raised his eyes and looked deeper into the tunnel, where the torchlight faded into infinity.
"I like this place," he said quietly, and his voice echoed through the vaults like a challenge to the crater itself. A wide, insolent smile spread across his face. "I just arrived, and I'm already getting such a welcome."
He adjusted his grip on the axe and, without looking back, strode into the heart of the Dead Crater.