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Hector recognized the name. The West Intar Company. Or just WIC. It had something to do with international trade, as he recalled.

That was about the extent of his knowledge, but by now, Hector had come to realize that the mere fact that he had heard of it before was also somewhat informative. Because if he didn’t need Garovel to tell him what it was, then this company was probably pretty damn famous already.

He was still going to ask Garovel about it later, though.

Hector observed the group in silence for a bit longer, not really knowing if he should ask them anything else. If they truly did have a way of killing the worm, then he didn’t want to distract them with questions.

The same guy from before reengaged the conversation on his own, however. “The name’s Robert Sheridan, by the by. What’s yours, son?”

“Hector Goffe.”

“Good to meetcha, Hector Goffe. Is this your first time down in the Undercrust?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Pretty wild, eh?” Another short quake punctuated his sentence as the worm slapped its tail down in the distance. Each of the WIC men had to pause before they could resume building.

The giant gun was nearing completion, from what Hector could tell. It must have been almost twice as big as he was. Certainly not something a non-servant could wield unaided.

‘Oh god,’ said Garovel. ‘I’m sensing a lot more worms all of a sudden.’

‘Where?’ said Hector.

‘Everywhere. If we stay here, we’ll be overrun in a few minutes. Everyone needs to get back to the train right now.’

Already, Hector could see some of the other Rainlords pulling back from the fight with the worm, no doubt on the orders of their reapers.

Hector started moving the iron box again. “Hold on, everyone. We’re going back to the train.”

A few huffs of vague disapproval arose, but no one argued.

Then there came still another earthquake. But this one was different. Instead of going away after a moment, it persisted, and the ground began to shift and sink more violently than any time previously.

And then the ground was suddenly gone. The cavern floor splintered and heaved up all at once, becoming a hundred thousand tiny rocks suspended in midair, and Hector had nothing beneath his feet, save his own iron.

The box was falling, and he had to react. He grew iron hooks out of the box’s side and dug them into the nearest wall--which, unfortunately, was not as near as he would have liked. The box tipped over as it caught in the air and swung down, and Hector had to complete a barricade before anyone fell out. Now it really was an entire box of solid iron, with everyone inside thrown upside down with gun parts clattering around.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was no light inside, either.

So Hector breathed deep and visualized the outside of the box. The side was scraping against a cliff of unstable rock--the same unstable rock from which the box was also suspended, by way of the ten hooked spears he’d materialized.