Crack! Crack! Crack!
The Little Knight struck the wall again, revealing a pitch-black opening. It was clearly a hidden passage.
The Scar Trail lived up to its name, constantly accumulating fresh wounds.
In practical terms, its passages were constantly changing.
Even the beasts that had lived here for years could scarcely find their way.
Sometimes beasts dug new passages to survive; sometimes geological shifts and other disturbances caused cave-ins that blocked them.
In short, blood mingled with the churning, falling shells upon this pitch-black soil, forming a unique landscape.
Calling this place a wound in the earth was no exaggeration. It was a place that should never have existed.
Such cramped spaces were death traps for any bug, but they posed no problem for the Little Knight.
It needed no breath, felt no distress in confined spaces, and was itself a torch that lit the way.
The Little Knight silently entered the hidden passage, unconcerned about taking a wrong turn. The route it followed was rather different from that of ordinary bugs.
After all, the Little Knight had no maps or information. It could only follow its instincts.
In short, down was the right direction.
Once again, it fell from a height, loose stones raining down from overhead.
The stones struck the ground and raised clouds of dust, but the Little Knight's sturdy body kept it from being hurt by a fall of this height.
Only this time, the place it landed was noticeably flat.
It was unlike the loose soil before, with its obvious signs of disturbance.
The Little Knight drew its Bone Nail. It knew this was the place.
Orange-red flames enveloped the Bone Nail, and it instinctively slashed hard, again and again.
The sound of its blows confirmed that the ground beneath it was hollow.
Under its