Waiting in agonizing silence in the hall lit as day, the dwarf, the she-orc and the girl were tense as an arrow until the dwarf shouted something.

"Dungeon!"

The sheet Com was holding in his left hand, bisected by itself.

"What now!?" Gaia asked. She had sat on a stool, her right foot unconsciously tapping on the parquet in an exasperating rhythm.

Commodo turned toward a beaming smile for the Guardian on his lips and eyes.

"Naw we retrieve!"

Gaia's brows perked up.

"That's our term to refer to how we catch our famous supplies from the Core, the Deep, and Vast." Garena clarified.

Still, Gaia looked a bit out of it.

"I'm sad now," Garena frowned, looking at her vacuous expression, "It's clear now that you've never eaten here, we are not only the best inn in the city because of our services, but for our products and their prices too. Take our Deep-born kelp salad, for example. We could never cut the market price on that if we had to cater the ingredients the normal way. This way, though," she said, pointing at the forming portal, "makes us economize entirely on the delivery!" She finished proudly.

The window's view started turning, as if it was rotating on itself, then it stopped. It showed the inside of a grotto. Huge people got close to it, interested in the window, and stared. Some tried to poke their fingers, uselessly.

"It's time! It can hold for just a few seconds. The device needs hours to replenish the ambient Mana, so go, go!" Garena ordered her.

"Thank you," Gaia said obsequiously. Then she disappeared.

***

"Again," shouted Larry with his voice empty of any hint of emotions.

The last attempt had been almost successful. There were visible cracks in the barrier of Mana.

Sigmund found it funny, trying to stay as far away from his father's fighting style as he could. He had nevertheless ended up becoming a heavyweight just like him. Of course, he dealt tremendous blows with his sword. His father did the same but with his rifle.

Dragon Hunt was his father's signature move, and though with enhancements and power-ups by the Raid team, Larry was an entire Tier too early to damage the natural Mana shield of the Dungeon, even a Tier 5 with the support he was currently receiving would not have been able to put a dent in it, let alone crack it, and yet he was doing precisely that.

At that point, Larry's pocket coat started brightly shining before it caught on fire.

Larry took a couple of seconds to register it, then he shook it away. The already consumed pocket helped it in making it drop the content on the floor.

It was a sphere. A complex patterned orb, with intricate metal design, weaving one into the other like gears. Inside of it, the dim light of Mana shone brightly and brighter by the seconds.

Sigmund could hear Larry muttering in a low voice, "Odin's blight, Com. That was fire Wyvern skin."

Then it opened up. Like a lotus flower, the device sprung open. Above it, a circular window manifested in an instant of bright light, and a wave of considerable heat spread over inside the grotto. The Raid team, whose attention had been captured by the peculiar occurrence, everyone turned toward the circular window of bright light. It depicted a vast, beautifully adorned room, but most of the space was taken by three people. A dwarf, a she-orc, and a human were staring inside of it. They could not hear a word; the window was muted.

Some of the Giants got closer to get a better look at it. A couple of them were so brave as to poke their fingers at it. Yet that was the moment when they backtracked. The human started running, launching hands first through the window.

"Gaia…?"

Sigmund turned behind, losing the moment the girl rolled inside of the grotto from practically nowhere. It was Nastia, she had woken up. Looking all disheveled, her eyes still confused, she stared in front. He did the same.

There was a girl, definitely a cute girl for human standards, not as beautiful as Dustille or Graskielle, or Nastia for what mattered. Her overall appearance made him think about… Mana? She looked like the embodiment of it. Light azure hair the color of Mana, bright blue eyes looking like high concentrations of it. Then there was the air she gave forth. Unwavering conviction.

The girl stood up, turning left and right as the window in space closed behind her. Then she asked a simple question.

"Where is the Herald?"

Everyone stood there in silence, not knowing what to do or even say about such a question. Until a voice came from the grotto's entrance.

"You must be Gaia Waterfront." The female asked while heaving.

Sigmund knew that voice; everyone did. Turning toward it, they saw her. "Dustille!"

***

The violet fire spread over the construct like rapids washing over a rock. They did not have the consistency of regular fire. They didn't even scald.

Varcivald understood it then, looking at the effects it was having on the outside layers of the carapace sheets, his eyes widened in comprehension as he gasped.

“DECAY!” He shouted.

Decay was one of the most direct and thus extremely dangerous forms of Higher Magic there was. Against it, contingencies were vital. Decay Magic was hazardous in more than one way, not only in it being Higher Magic and thus inherently more powerful, it would inhibit the natural regeneration of Life, making it possible to permanently lose arts, and generate unrecoverable wounds in extreme conditions.

"Everyone back in the panic room!" Shouted one.

"No, it's useless!" Said another.

"Let's face them; they have us cornered. We shall meet again in the Blessed Lands! Let's drink from the tables of the Grand Hall with Odin himself!" Said one very empathic Giant.

From the panic room came the voices of those working on the alteration of the device.

"We just need a few more seconds!" Someone shouted.

"We need support!" Shouted another.

"We need a miracle!" Screamed the third.

"I thought we had one!?" Shouted someone else.

"And, in fact, we got one!" Marcle said aloud from the pumping room. His voice was low, given the distance, but it was bright and clear.

He climbed out of the pumping room, located right below the panic room, with a smile on his face, and he ordered: "Flood them!"

Varcivald smiled meekly at him. He had managed it, but… a Dragon, especially a Legend Dragon, would not be affected by Mana poisoning with such a low concentration of it. But it would not be him the one bursting their bubbles, At least let them rejoice in their imminent victory over those bastards.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As the panic room staff started fiddling with their equipment, levers, and buttons, Vald felt a shake in the structure's basement.

Marcle got closer to him. Since the Dragon's arrival, the Priests had stopped barraging with Skills, and Varcivald's shield, though with one measly circle, was still holding against the decay imbued dragon breath.

"That's the outputter switching. It'll soon propel the Mana all around the station. It was built in case of a sudden increase of Mana, a Mana surge from the Singularity. It will undoubtedly kill them all… and… and..." Marcle's speech got to a halt as he closed to the Elf, the Dragon appearing into vision.

"That's not…" the Giant said, switching his gaze from the Dragon to Vald and again.

"I know," the Elf answered with a conscious smile. "But at least now nobody will say we didn't try, right?"

Marcle looked at him, from the height of his almost twenty feet. They shared a moment of silence.

"If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't even have reached this far." He answered with a smile. "I just hope I managed to say bye to my soon-to-be wife before dying."

Varcivald could not answer to that, not that he had to.

Marcle continued, "You should see her. She's the most beautiful Giantess in the whole Kanceldom. I don't even understand what it is that she sees in me."

"Well, since we're about to die… why not share secrets…" started Varcivald.

"I don't know if you know, but for Elves. Marriage is for life, literally. We do not fool around. We do not meet with others before it, let alone mate before marriage. It's not just about the principle-" the building shook when Mana burst forth, interrupting the Elf. In the form of Mana vapor, the Mana was propelled outwards in every direction, investing the Priests outside and continuing forth for hundreds of yards around and above the perimeter of the building, poisoning many and instantly killing others.

Varcivald looked at the shriveling corpses of their assaulters and the scourged forms of those still about to die. Amid coughs, blood pouring out from all their orifices, and the pores of their skins, the Priests still alive fell on the floor or on their knees, screaming their lungs out.

The Dragon, probably surprised by it, soared higher, withdrawing from the scene.

He won't stay up there. Anyway, where was I…

"I was saying…" he continued, turning toward a white-faced Marcle, the Giant probably not one shaped by the hunt, "It's not about the principle. It's the bond. The first time we mate, we fuse our Blessings, which in turn forever links one Elf to the other." Vald paused for a second, "Before- before I was exiled, I had yet to meet an Elf I loved. So, long story short, I've been alone. Alone for one hundred fifty-six years." He ended with a sigh.

Marcle was still staring at the Dragon, which was turning in the air, making rounds around the edifice, waiting for the Mana vapors to dissipate. He turned toward Vald. The Elf could see a question in his eyes, a problem which soon shifted for another, "I know that bars you from ever returning or bonding with other Elves of the Season Forests, but why not look for other exiled? Or other people at all, mixed races are common nowadays. What stopped you?"

Varcivald could see real interest in the Giant's eyes now. It wasn't just a spur of the moment speech. He looked sincere. "Fear, I guess. You see, once we exiled mate, among each other, the Blessings are taken away… though we imprint in each other for life. But it's even worse if we mate with someone from another race. In that case, we share with them our Blessings, but our imprint becomes one way only…"

Hearing that, Marcle arched his brows, "Which means-"

"Yes, we could effectively become slaves of someone who might not love us at all or simply abandon us. It's… nasty, I've seen the consequences, they are usually… suicide."

Marcle looked grim, "I had no idea it was so severe. There's no fixing that?"

"Transcendence… is the only knowable fix for it," mused Varcivald with a sneer.

The Giant laughed with him, then they both found themselves laughing out loud. Soon the whole staff started laughing. They had heard none of what they two had been saying, but in their eyes, they had beaten undefeatable odds, yet they were nonetheless going to die from the Dragon's assault. So, together, they laughed to their hearts' content.

Only one, though smiling, was not laughing. She got instead closer to Varcivald.

It was Kilda, the old Giantess with a very intelligent quirk to her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I couldn't help but listen to your conversation," she said, getting closer.

She's noticed? What an eye. Vald thought, still amused, by the collective increase in spirit.

Kilda was an old Giantess, the oldest person in the room, by far. And though she looked that old, she didn't make you feel it. She was bright, cheerful and full of energy.

Her wild hair was of a pearl white, her eyes black as the Singularity itself.

"There's no problem at all, Mrs. Kilda, and let me tell you. Your eyes are as sharp as your ear, if not sharper," he said, drawing a grin from her.

Marcle intervened, "You know, Varcivald, our Kilda, is as ancient as the harness itself, though she's definitely preserved much better than it!" He exclaimed, getting a few laughs and words of appreciation for the Giantess from the staff members before continuing. "She was my grandfatherìs assistant when it first was built. She's practically our certainty. And yes, she's very sharp!"

Varcivald couldn't help but comment positively to that, but Kilda had other things in mind. She suddenly got closer to him, lowering herself, and whispered in his ear.

"Transcendence is not the only way."

Varcivald looked at her eyes, confused, as the Giantess raised herself.

Then everyone was drawn by the 'boom' that came from outside. Varcivald as well gave it a higher priority and turned to see what was going on.

In the sky, the Dragon had seemingly just been hit and was plummeting toward the ground.

Floating in mid-air with the impeccable ability peculiar only to the fairies, a very hungry looking Clast, last living prince of the fairies and consort of the Seer of Carnage, started shouting. His powerful voice reached even them, "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!?"

I guess we might have been saved, Varcivald realized.

***

Their exchange had been brief but intense.

Liz was definitely moving in a much more human-like way now. She had learned a lot in those never-ending days of their forced training. She studied her human's movement so that when times of need would arise again, she was ready to get a hold of his body and perform as best as she could.

She relied entirely on Spirit points, and though she had no access to Meridians, she could use her own Skills very effectively.

Liz backed away after smacking the monster in the head more than three to four times, the shield bash she had received on her ribs in exchange had not been pleasant, but at least the dry scales which had sprouted on Gabriel's body surface had greatly amplified his defenses. Still, she perceived the monster's Power to be at least twice as that, which was extremely dangerous.

Gabriel was sleeping now. That brief moment in which his heart had stopped beating had been the push she needed so that, with her manipulation of Spirit, she exchanged the amount of Spirit which made their Spirit Pool to her dissolved particles in the web of the seal. It had been a slow process initially, but the emergency had given her a resolve push to complete it as fast as possible.

As soon as she took hold of Gabriel's body, she took a Spirit salve to replenish her Spirit Pool, which left them with four salves. She had then cast Helping Hand on his body five times, one intended for the organs interested by the lance pierce, one for the muscles, one for his bones, and one for his skin, the last point she had used it to heal him whole. The overall healing had increased his regen speed by five times. Of course, his Life points regen was that of the regular Helping Hand boost.

Now she could feel Gabriel starting to awaken, but she hushed him back to sleep. She had to end this herself, Gabriel had no more Energy or Mana points to deal with the enemy, but she still had her Spirit points and the salves.

The Tyrant had been confused at first and looked even more confused now.

She noticed that it was most probably tied to her weird stance.

Liz had her knees and left hand on the ground, her right hand held the spear behind her, and she was hissing at him. Guessing that was probably the cause, she shrugged, and once again, she was on the hunt.

The Tyrant was fast as he flinched in retreat, but what really was getting on her nerves was him shouting. "What are you!?"

Sincerely, it was quite annoying, and the fact that their battle was turning to be a game of tag made it even worse.

She wanted to say, Don't run, coward! But she didn't know how to speak in that body, so she limited herself in following him in bursts of speed. If only she had access to Meridians, she would have caught him already.

As Gabriel had already shown her, the best way to slow him down or right out stop her enemy was damaging his legs, even better, his frail-looking ankles. His ankles were the thinnest point of his body, probably the least resilient as well. So she focused her attacks on those, but with time and repetition, she finished mostly impacting with the monster's shield.

It had been two salves, and almost an hour later, when she saw its shield finally fall under her last attack of a series of heavy blows.

The Tyrant was reduced to a rag, and he could use no Skills, probably given his exhausted pools, but their attacks did not do enough damage to him. Their Power was indeed too low. So she had to count on the number more than the quality of blows she dealt him.

But games would soon be ending, Gabriel was waking up, and she was too mentally tired to resist him. Before the battle started, she had strained herself to the limit in struggling to exchange her spirit molecules with those of Gabriel's pool. It was a miracle she still stood, or probably just her powerful bond to her human… what would she do without him? They were one and only after all. That was the last of her thoughts as she took the second-last Spirit salve and recalled their Anchor Page.

Gabriel had entirely regenerated, and his Life pool, though useless, was at four points. More importantly, though, he had one point of Energy, and two of Mana. It would have to be enough…

She closed her eyes as she slipped away, allowing Gabriel to take back his rightful place in the body.