Chapter 13: The Churn - Part 1
The transition was not a simple step. It was a violent expulsion. One moment they were in the derelict hall, the next they were thrown onto a surface of jagged, shifting metal plates, a searing hot wind blasting them with the smell of scorched oil and ozone. The air itself was thin, burning their lungs with every gasp.
The second floor was not a room. It was "The Churn." A vast, cavernous space where colossal, interlocking gears, some missing teeth, others grinding relentlessly, formed a treacherous, moving landscape. Beneath it all, a river of molten slag glowed with a malevolent orange light, the heat blasting up in waves. There was no clear path, only a vertical maze of deadly machinery.
They had no time to orient themselves. A shriek, like tearing sheet metal, echoed from above. Three creatures—the "Gear-Tickers"—detached from the shadows of a massive, slow-turning cog. They were the size of large dogs, their bodies a fusion of rusted metal and desiccated flesh, with multiple insectoid legs ending in needle-sharp drills. They moved with terrifying speed, skittering across the metal surfaces.
"Back to back!" Ryley yelled, his voice raw.
The fight was a desperate scramble for footing. Jax's greataxe was too slow. A Gear-Ticker dodged his swing and lunged, its drill-tipped leg piercing deep into his thigh before he could bring his axe back around. He roared in pain and fury, grabbing the creature and literally tearing it in half with his bare hands, showering himself in black ichor and rusty shrapnel.
Liana was a blur, her daggers deflecting drilling strikes, but one caught her on the shoulder, spinning her around. She cried out, her arm going limp.
Liam was paralyzed, huddled behind Maya. The Acolyte had her hands full, a soft golden light emanating from her as she tried to stem the bleeding from Jax's leg while the Rogue clutched her wounded shoulder.
Ryley fought with cold, desperate precision. He used a weak Force Push not to harm, but to shove one of the creatures off the platform they were on, sending it tumbling into the molten river below with a final, sizzling shriek. The last one, he dispatched with a frantic, two-handed chop that shattered its carapace.
Silence, save for the groan of gears and their ragged breathing. They had survived the first thirty seconds.
"This is impossible," Liam whimpered, staring at Jax's bloody leg.
"Shut up," Jax grunted, leaning heavily on his axe. "Maya, can you fix this?"
Maya's face was pale, sweat beading on her forehead. "I... I can stop the bleeding. But the muscle is torn. You won't be able to put weight on it. Not fully."
The reality of their situation crashed down. They were on a tiny, unstable platform, surrounded by a deadly, moving machine, with their primary frontline fighter crippled.
"We can't stay here," Liana said through gritted teeth, clutching her shoulder. "The reset... if it happens here, we're dead."
Ryley scanned the Churn. His eyes tracked the paths of the massive gears. It was a clockwork puzzle of death. One wrong step meant being crushed, or falling into the slag.
"There," he pointed. A series of smaller, faster-moving cogs created a precarious, intermittent path to a larger, stable-looking gear about fifty feet away. "We have to cross. The timing has to be perfect."
It took them an hour. An hour of terror. Jax had to hop, using Ryley and a grimacing Liana as crutches. They had to wait for the precise moment to jump from one spinning plate to another, dragging their wounded. Liam was useless, frozen by fear until Jax, in a surge of pain-filled rage, snarled at him to "make himself useful or jump," jolting him into action. The mage used his meager magic not to fight, but to create a brief, shimmering platform of force over a gap that was too wide to jump, a desperate, draining act that left him vomiting from the strain.
When they finally collapsed onto the stable central gear, they were not safe. They were exposed. The gear was a staging ground. And from the darkness of a massive intake valve, a new horror emerged. The "Forgemaw." It was a massive, worm-like construct of welded scrap metal, its front a spiraling maw of grinding, rusted teeth.
It didn't charge. It unspooled, its segmented body whipping across the gear, too fast to outrun.
Jax, leg be damned, planted his feet and roared, bracing his axe like a polearm. "Brace for impact!"
The Forgemaw slammed into him. The sound was a sickening crunch of metal and bone. Jax was thrown back like a ragdoll, his greataxe flying from his grasp and skittering toward the edge. He lay still, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
Maya screamed, rushing to him, her healing light flaring with desperate intensity.
Liana threw a dagger, which bounced harmlessly off the creature's hide. Liam was catatonic.
The Forgemaw reared up, its grinding maw poised to descend and consume them all.
Ryley stood, his sword feeling pitifully small. This was it. This was the extreme. He had no plan, no clever trick. Only a choice: die cowering, or die fighting.
He looked at the Forgemaw, then at Jax's fallen greataxe, lying near the edge of the gear. An idea, born of utter desperation, sparked.
"Liana! The axe! Now!" he screamed, charging not at the creature, but past it, drawing its attention.
The Rogue, understanding dawning in her eyes, darted forward, grabbing the heavy greataxe. She couldn't swing it. But she didn't have to.
"Liam!" Ryley yelled, as the Forgemaw turned to pursue him. "The force platform! Under its head! NOW!"
Sobbing, the mage raised his staff, pouring the last dregs of his will into a spell. A shimmering disc of energy appeared, not on the ground, but angled, a foot off the surface, directly in the path of the charging Forgemaw.
The creature's grinding maw hit the platform and was violently deflected upwards. Its own momentum and massive weight worked against it. Its head was thrown back, exposing the vulnerable, less-armored segments of its neck.
"Liana! The axe!" Ryley roared.
With a final, desperate heave, Liana used all her strength not to swing, but to prop the greataxe, blade-up, against a metal protrusion on the gear.
The Forgemaw's exposed neck came down, impaling itself with its own weight on the waiting axe blade. There was a horrific shriek of tearing metal. The creature thrashed wildly, its body whipping, before finally going still.
Silence.
The fight was over. They had won.
Jax was alive, but unconscious and grievously wounded. Maya was on the verge of collapse from mana exhaustion. Liana's arm was a mess. Liam was a trembling wreck.
A loaf of bread with a bottle of milk appear. A Silver Chest materialized. They didn't even look at it, their mind was focused on the food after all they are tired.
They had survived the second floor. It had taken everything they had, pushing them to the absolute brink of annihilation. They had not cleared a floor; they had stolen a victory from the jaws of certain death. And as they looked at the exit archway, they felt not triumph, but a soul-deep terror. If this was the second floor, what fresh hell awaited on the third? The climb was not a challenge. It was a sentence. And they had just begun to serve it.