Chapter 91| Older Than the Colony
The briefing took place not in Geneva, but at a hastily established research outpost on Jenunl Island itself, Association survey teams having established a secure perimeter around the central chamber in the weeks since the Queen and Prince’s defeat.
Farrow met them personally at the outpost’s landing zone, her expression carrying visible, uncharacteristic unease that immediately sharpened Allen’s own wary attention.
"Thank you for coming," she said, guiding them toward the outpost’s central research tent. "I wouldn’t have summoned you here so soon after your recovery began if this development weren’t genuinely significant."
Inside the tent, a small team of Association researchers had assembled extensive scanning equipment around a detailed, three-dimensional projection of the central chamber’s geological structure, considerable sections highlighted in stark, warning red.
"Doctor Amara Kessler," one of the researchers introduced herself, a sharp-eyed woman whose exhausted expression suggested she’d spent considerably more hours studying this discovery than proper rest allowed. "Lead geological surveyor for this assessment. I’ll be direct, Hunter Veton — what we’ve found here predates the Queen’s colonial occupation by an order of magnitude our current understanding struggles to properly quantify."
She gestured toward the projection, highlighting a massive, previously undetected structure buried considerably deeper than the chamber the Strike Team had fought within. "This formation sits nearly two kilometers beneath the chamber where you fought the Queen and her offspring. Our scanning equipment initially missed it entirely, masked by the colony’s own considerable biological interference. It was only once the colony’s presence dissipated following the Prince’s death that our follow-up surveys detected it properly."
"What exactly is it?" Myria asked, sharp strategic focus already engaged despite the discovery’s clearly unsettling implications.
Kessler hesitated before answering, exchanging a brief, weighted glance with Farrow. "Based on preliminary analysis," she said carefully, "we believe it represents some manner of containment structure. Ancient, considerably predating any documented human civilization, let alone the relatively recent phenomenon of dungeon rifts as we currently understand them."
"Containment for what?" Allen asked, dread already coiling in his chest.
"That," Kessler admitted, "remains unclear. But the structural design bears unmistakable similarities to sealing architecture referenced in several extremely old, fragmentary WHRIB archival texts — records so old, and so consistently dismissed as unreliable legend, that this organization has never seriously investigated their claims until now."
Farrow stepped forward, her expression carrying the particular weight of someone about to share information she’d clearly wrestled with delivering. "These fragmentary texts describe entities the ancient records refer to as ’Lord Emperors,’" she said. "Beings of considerable, poorly understood power, said to have treated entire worlds as something akin to experimental laboratories, long before recorded history properly began. The texts claim these entities were eventually sealed away, through methods our current understanding cannot begin to properly reconstruct."
The weight of that revelation settled heavily over the assembled group, and Allen felt a fresh, unwelcome chill spread through his chest.
"You’re suggesting Jenunl Island’s dungeon zone formed directly atop one of these ancient seals," Vivian said slowly, piecing the implications together.
"We believe so," Kessler confirmed grimly. "And more concerning still — our scanning equipment has detected clear, measurable degradation across the seal’s structural integrity, correlating precisely with the timeline of the Prince’s death and subsequent power release."
"The crack," Allen said quietly, remembering the strange, foreboding sensation that had settled over the devastated coastal ridge in the fight’s immediate aftermath.
"Precisely," Farrow confirmed. "Whatever violent release of power accompanied that creature’s death appears to have accelerated deterioration already occurring within the ancient seal, deterioration that, based on Doctor Kessler’s projections, may have already been underway for considerably longer than any of us previously understood."
Allen absorbed the weight of the revelation carefully, glancing around at his wives, whose own expressions carried matching, dawning concern. "How long until this seal fails completely?" he asked.
Kessler’s expression grew grimmer still. "Our most optimistic projections suggest weeks. Our most pessimistic suggest it could already be failing as we speak."
The tent fell into heavy, charged silence, and Allen felt the fragile, hard-won peace of the preceding weeks finally, completely give way to fresh, considerable dread.
"What do you need from us?" he asked finally.
Farrow met his gaze directly, her own expression carrying the weight of a woman who understood exactly how much she was asking, mere weeks after their last considerable sacrifice. "I need your party positioned nearby, Hunter Veton. Whatever emerges from that seal, if it fails completely, this organization has no other asset demonstrating capability remotely comparable to what your party has already proven twice over."
Allen exchanged a long, weighted glance with his wives, understanding settling heavily across all of their shoulders as the considerable scope of this fresh, ancient threat began, slowly, to take shape.
"How much do these old texts actually tell you about what we might be facing?" Myria asked, already shifting into the same sharp, methodical focus she’d brought to every previous crisis.
"Frustratingly little," Kessler admitted. "Most of what survives exists only in fragments — partial translations, damaged manuscripts, oral traditions passed down through channels so old that verifying their original context has proven nearly impossible. What we do know suggests these Lord Emperors possessed capabilities considerably beyond anything currently documented within Association or WHRIB combat classification systems."
"Beyond SSS-rank," Vivian said quietly.
"Considerably beyond," Farrow confirmed grimly. "Which is precisely why I’m asking for your continued involvement, despite everything you’ve already sacrificed. If this seal fails completely, and if even a fraction of these ancient texts prove accurate, this organization will need every possible advantage available."
Allen considered the weight of the request carefully, glancing toward his wives, each of them carrying visible exhaustion alongside the same quiet, unshakeable resolve that had carried them through every previous impossible circumstance.
"We’ll stay," he said finally. "Not indefinitely. We still have a promise waiting for us across an entirely different world. But until this seal’s situation resolves one way or another, we’re not walking away from something this dangerous."
Farrow’s expression carried visible, profound relief. "Thank you, Hunter Veton. I wish I could offer more certainty about what we’re actually facing. For now, all any of us can do is prepare as thoroughly as circumstances allow, and hope the coming weeks grant us enough warning to properly respond."
Outside the research tent, Jenunl Island’s slowly recovering landscape stretched beneath a clearing, mist-thinned sky, and deep beneath its scarred, healing surface, the ancient seal continued its slow, inexorable deterioration, indifferent entirely to the considerable weight of hope and dread now gathering above it.