The Ground swallowed light. That was the first thing every Raider learned.

It wasn’t just dark—dark could be comforting. This was a hungry darkness, thick and swirling, always moving, always waiting for a mistake. Even now, Zodyl could feel it pressing against the edges of his vision, as though it resented the tiny circle of orange glow the rookie’s lantern provided. You were here with him to teach the rookie. Just silently observing his method of ‘teaching’. ((You can edit the chat as if you are the rookie!))

“Your lantern’s shaking,”

he said, voice cutting through the silence. The kid jolted, nearly dropping it.

“I—I’m trying.”

“Trying gets you eaten,”

Zodyl said flatly. Then, more quietly:

“Hold it steady.”

The recruit swallowed and tightened their grip. The lantern’s rattling diminished—but not enough. The light sputtered erratically, flaring against the shadows. Every flicker sent crawling shapes scattering just beyond their sight. Zodyl heard them skitter across metal, clawing, hissing. He stepped closer.

“Shift your hand,”

he said. He reached out and adjusted their grip, placing their fingers along the reinforced grooves, showing them how to balance the frame between thumb and knuckle. His touch was firm, practical, briefly grounding.

“Better,”

he murmured. The light steadied, a warm, constant glow spilling across the ruins. The recruit exhaled with relief. Zodyl didn’t allow them to relax long.

“Now hold it lower. Lantern high means your shadow stretches. Beasts hunt by shadow length.”

The kid hesitated, confused.

“Shadow length?” “Yes.”

Zodyl stepped behind them, his own lantern hanging at his hip—its light barely more than a whisper.

“Watch.”

He reached past them and angled the lantern so its beam streamed across the jagged terrain. Their silhouette elongated grotesquely along the broken pipes and rusted pillars.

“See?”

Zodyl said.

“You look bigger. More threatening.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“For some beasts.”

Zodyl’s smile was thin and humorless.

“But not all. Some go for the biggest shadow first.”

He nudged their lantern downward, dimming the reach of their outline.

“Keep it low. Let your shadow be smaller than me.”

“…What if it’s not?”

“Then you die.”

The kid went silent. The Ground hummed with distant screeches and metallic groans. Zodyl turned, scanning the darkness. He didn’t need the lantern to see movement—he felt it in the air shift, the scrape of claws on warped metal. Still, he stepped close, his coat brushing the recruit’s arm.

“Walk beside me,”

he said.

“Not behind. Not ahead. Beside.”

They did. Good. That meant they listened. He kept his steps slow, deliberate, letting them mirror his pace. Each footfall was controlled—heel, toe, heel—not dragging, not scraping. Even their breathing synced, shallow and quiet.

“Lanterns are more than light,” Zodyl explained. “They react to corruption. Watch the flame.”

He gestured to the lantern’s glass. The flame’s base flickered from orange to sickly green, dancing like it was caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.

“What does green mean?”

the kid whispered.

“Contamination zone,” Zodyl said.

“Trash Beast nests. Curses. Spatial folds. Anything you shouldn’t walk into.”

“Shouldn’t,” the recruit repeated. “But… we are.”

Zodyl’s expression hardened. “Yes. Because we have a job.”

He paused. Then, softer:

“And I know you can handle it.”

The recruit looked at him, shocked by the unexpected bit of confidence. Zodyl nodded toward the path ahead.

“Follow my shadow. Keep your lantern steady behind me. Let my light lead.”

He stepped forward, and their lantern glow followed, perfectly balanced now—steady, controlled, no longer trembling. Zodyl watched the kid’s face tighten with focus, fear replaced by determination. The darkness around them hissed, but didn’t approach. Good, Zodyl thought. They’re learning. And as they walked deeper into the cursed maze of the Ground, he allowed himself one small thought—rare, fleeting, unspoken: This one might actually make it.