The mouth of the mine loomed like a jagged wound in the hillside, silent and foreboding. Inigo advanced first, raising his rifle as the shadows swallowed them whole. Behind him, Lyra moved with near-silent precision, her steps as light as falling leaves. The only sound between them was the faint creak of worn leather and the slow, steady click of Inigo's safety disengaging.
Just inside, the mine opened into a narrow tunnel—wooden supports bowing inward with age, beams draped in old moss and spiderwebs. A lantern wouldn't have helped here. The darkness was thick and absolute. But Inigo had already tapped into his system.
[Night Vision: Active]
The world turned green as his visor adjusted, bathing the tunnel in cold, artificial clarity. He could see every rock, every fracture in the timber, every worn pickaxe left behind by long-dead miners.
"Hold," he whispered, raising a clenched fist.
Lyra froze immediately.
Ahead—movement.
Three kobolds, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark, shuffled toward them. They were armed with jagged spears and rusty blades, armor cobbled together from scrap and bone. Inigo shifted slightly and raised the rifle to his shoulder.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Three suppressed shots rang out. The first two kobolds dropped instantly—one with a hole clean through the chest, the other crumpling as a round tore through its eye. The third screamed, turning to flee—but Lyra was faster. Her arrow hissed through the dark, alighting with a flash of flame mid-flight, and struck the kobold in the spine. It toppled, engulfed in small dancing embers.
Inigo glanced over his shoulder. "Nice."
Lyra nodded once, nocking another arrow. "Your aim is… frightening."
"I get that a lot."
They moved on. The tunnel split—one path dipped sharply downward, another veered left, reinforced by newer woodwork.
"Main nest is likely below," Inigo muttered. "But this left passage—might be storage or secondary patrol route."
"I'll cover the left," Lyra offered. "Split and scout?"
"No. We move as one. Clear left first."
She gave a brief nod.
As they stepped into the left tunnel, the ceiling grew lower, the air denser. Then—
Clack.
A sharp metallic snap echoed.
"Trap—!"
Inigo grabbed Lyra and yanked her back just as a pair of sharpened logs swung down from above, cleaving through the space they had just occupied. The impact splintered the wall beside them, throwing wood chips and dust everywhere.
Lyra's breath hitched. "I didn't see that."
"I did," Inigo said, eyes narrowed behind his visor. "Barely."
A crude tripwire—twine stretched between two floor pegs. He pulled a knife and sliced it clean, stepping over the mechanism.
"You alright?"
She nodded, brushing her cloak. "Thanks."
They continued down the hall. At the far end, a crude wooden door blocked their path. Muffled growls and the scrape of claws came from beyond it.
Inigo held up a frag grenade and looked to Lyra. She nodded, backing into the shadows and drawing an arrow. Inigo pulled the pin.
Clink—clink—clink.
The grenade bounced once and rolled under the door.
BOOM!
The hallway shook. Smoke and screams burst forth from the shattered door. Inigo charged in immediately, M4A1 barking like thunder.
Kobolds—six of them—scrambled within a crude barracks. One lunged at him with a rusted sword. He dropped it with a shot to the chest. Another dove from a bunk above, and Inigo pivoted, catching it with a burst that stitched its torso in lead.
Behind him, Lyra moved like a phantom—her arrows slicing the air with deadly accuracy. One kobold reeled from a flaming arrow to the shoulder, only to be struck down by a second bolt to the heart.
Another raised a crude shield, snarling—Lyra shot beneath it, the wind-enchanted arrow snapping its knee backward with a sickening pop.
They cleared the room in seconds.
Lyra lowered her bow, chest rising with quiet breaths. "Your reflexes… they're not human."
Inigo ejected his spent mag and slapped a fresh one in. "Let's say my training comes from somewhere… different."
"Your bullets bend bone," she said, eyes still scanning the carnage. "It's like you're dancing with death and dragging me with you."
He cracked a grin. "Wouldn't be the first time someone said that either."
They pressed deeper. The tunnel opened into a wide cavern—a natural chamber with old mining tracks twisted through it. Stalactites hung from above like jagged teeth. And scattered across the floor were kobolds—twenty at least, stationed behind rock outcroppings and broken mine carts.
At the center of it all, larger than the rest, stood the alpha. Over six feet tall, covered in dark scale armor and wielding a bone-carved staff humming with weak magical energy. The kobold chieftain snarled and raised its weapon, unleashing a shriek.
"Incoming!" Inigo shouted, diving behind a stone pillar.
Arrows and spells began to fly.
"Flashbang out!" Inigo tossed the white grenade high over the battlefield.
BOOM—!
White light seared the cavern. Kobolds screeched, clutching at their eyes. Inigo emerged from cover like a storm, picking off disoriented enemies with deadly precision. Every trigger pull was a kill—head, chest, heart. Kobolds fell before they could even regain their senses.
Lyra dashed up the left incline, climbing onto a ledge. From there, her arrows rained down like fire and lightning, each one imbued with elemental force. A flame-tipped arrow struck a barrel of pitch and ignited it, throwing three kobolds into the air in a blaze of fire.
A shaman began to chant in the rear—Inigo sighted in.
Thwip. Boom.
One clean shot. The shaman's skull cracked like a melon, its spell dying in its throat.
"KILL THE CHIEF!" Inigo called out.
Lyra was already moving—sprinting from ledge to ledge. She loosed three arrows in succession—one missed, the next pierced the chieftain's shoulder, and the third struck its staff, snapping it in half.
The kobold chief roared and charged.
Inigo dropped his rifle, materializing his Desert Eagle and aiming true.
BANG! The first shot staggered the beast.
BANG! The second struck it in the chest, scales cracking.
It lunged—
BANG! The third shot hit its knee, dropping it mid-charge.
As it collapsed, Lyra leapt down from the ledge, spinning mid-air with a wind-charged arrow notched.
She landed on one knee, point-blank, and fired straight into its open mouth.
The arrow exploded, taking the head clean off.
Silence.
Just the slow drip of water from the ceiling and the hiss of burning pitch.
Inigo rose slowly, eyes sweeping the battlefield. Bodies littered the chamber. The mine was cleared.
Lyra approached, her breathing heavy, eyes never leaving him.
"You… fight like no one I've ever seen," she said quietly.
Inigo shrugged. "Told you I could take care of myself."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "You weren't lying."