Luke continued to observe, shouldering the arctic winds cutting into his face. The man refused to blink. He felt his feet slip against the ice. Luke cemented himself with frost essence affixed his boots.
The twin tornadoes began to grow, and the raging winds intensified. The shaman started a ceremonial dance. A spirit totem dropped, and Luke could see the man’s vitality drain from his body. A spirit descended, gust swords blasted from its palms, and began to impale the bats struggling against the wind. Their team leader supported the shaman, his six protective charges disappeared. Six fire blasts cooked several bats alive.
With the glacial wing bats suppressed, the monk supported the two bruisers. His wind-enchanted fists blasted back the Boreal basilisks. He forced two beasts into the air; a yellow light emanated from his leg as he roundhouse kicked them both. They crashed into the ice cavern’s walls, their protective hide cracking.
A man with a two-handed axe, the last member of the party, cleaved his weapon through two beasts. The swing blasted forward with the momentum of a blood wave rocketing the axe through any resistance.
Not to be outdone, the mace-wielder smashed his weapon against another basilisk, and ancient wood began to cover half his body. The strength of his attacks elevated.
Each one must be using their equivalent of Shadow Wing. Luke analyzed.
Despite the successful streak against the beast, the group was overwhelmed. Over fifty basilisks remained, and more bats funneled from other paths into the battle.
The Reaver’s sixth sense started to warn him. He saw the liquid mana around the fire caster bubble furiously. He backed away from the entry point he entered and kept going until the feeling left him. While he couldn’t see every detail any longer, he still had a decent angle to observe.
Basilisks roared, acutely aware of the recent deaths to their number; they focused their icy gaze on the mace-wielder’s leg. It became pure ice in an instant. The nearest beast whipped its tail, and the affected leg area turned into ice shards.
Understandably, the hunter immediately passed out from the pain. To Luke’s interest, the wood split off and rushed to the ruined upper leg, attempting to mend the damage. Desperate beasts tried to skewer the unconscious hunter with their tails. A burst of liquid mana smashed them back.
Any monster left alive, Basilisk, or bat began to shiver in fear. The flame caster’s eyes became akin to twin suns. He commanded, “Radagast, Godrel, grab Michael, and get out of the way. You’ll be melted alive if this touches you.”
The monk and axe-wielder bruiser grabbed the mace wielder with wood abilities, then ran back behind their healer like a madman chasing an obsession. The flame user widened his stance, a tome opened behind him, and an orb floated above one hand.
Luke’s sense of danger began to rise again. Refusing to miss out on the spectacle, he coated himself with frost essence, concentrated on his front. The sensation lowered, although not completely. He formed Xera into a wand while keeping Whispering Edge before him.
He muttered, “Sooty, an Iron Feather please, get behind me if it’s too intense.”
Sooty did as requested but stayed on his shoulder. The protective feather circled Luke, and his nerves eased up.
Red flames came out in waves, cooking the surrounding area. The liquid mana smoldered and then burst, surrounding the flame caster’s orb. His tome lit up. Two fire runes changed to a crimson pitch in color.
He solemnly spoke, “Sun’s Wrath.”
After the fire mage spoke those words, the shaman redirected the wind spirit to form a wind barrier around his party, excluding his team leader.
Ice broke, and three suns materialized at the cavern’s ceiling; their light overtook the opening, pushing back all the shadows to envelope the area. They lit into the entrance Luke escaped into, stopping where he stood.
The three miniature suns expanded, becoming deep red, and then cracked. Sun rays broiled the room; Luke’s frost melted, and he rapidly created more to prevent himself from being cooked. Iron feather shredded, and the spell’s effects reduced but were still unbearable. Luke’s blood began to boil, skin peeling. Sooty placed Shadow Wing in front of them. Its guard handled the residual spell effect. Luke continually backpedaled, tempted to use Frost Fall to counter the blaze, but held off.
What scroll did that mad mage use? This is overkill.
Hyper-concentrated sun fragments and meteorites blazed down on the beasts below them. Direct contact would melt a basilisk in half. The bat’s constitution worked against them. They all lay against the molten floor, wingless. Their helpless screeches masked by an explosive reaction above them. The Boreal Basilisks worked in tandem, trying to freeze one miniature sun with their ice-eye ability. The result was laughable. A single sun fragment descending on them formed a frost layer, then vaporized it, along with a cluster of basilisks.
The heat cranked up, Sooty’s shade struggled against the spell effect but held up. The fire mage spoke, his radiant eyes focused on the rapidly melting monsters, but his words weren’t for them.
“I don’t know who you are, but it's best you start to run; when the three suns implode completely, I can’t guarantee you’ll live.”
Sun fragments rose and were collected above the floor in one spot. The three suns’ spell effects began to amplify. The ice that once made up the cave was nowhere to be seen; instead, gray-green stone uncovered for the first time in ages started to melt.
“Listen to the pyromaniac, run lad; that spell is a caliber you can’t handle,” Wayfinder said, judging that silence here wasn’t worth the cost.
Luke turned and sprinted; the shade stayed behind, its properties granting him a few-second head start. His feet slapped against sizzling ice. He accelerated, his agility unlocked further, his speed reaching well past normal human limits. Cave walls were stripped of their ice, the resulting mist covered Luke’s sight, only to be pierced by his vision stat.
The Reaver heard a deafening eruption; despite his created distance, the temperature rocketed up. He’d long applied a fresh Infusion to himself to guarantee maximum speed. Sweat rushed down his face. Flames began to fill the cave. Luke started to be embroiled in crimson flame.
His eyes displayed a defiant look. He stopped running and turned, Xera extruded blue light. He breathed out, and a frosted mist exited his mouth. Runes from Essence Bond enlivened Xera’s surface.
“My wood is getting burnt, Luke. Let’s freeze this rampant explosion before my crystal melts,” Xera said
Luke pointed his wand to the superheated air in front of him; a fissure ripped open, frost glinted in its pressure, the roaring flames stunted by the counter. A flame wall raged, crashing against Luke’s Essence Fissure.
An Essence Lance merged into the fissure, its essence fragment rain melting upon contact with the scarlet flame. As the first fissure closed, a scarlet tidal wave attempted to continue its rampage.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Some spell’s collateral damage won’t do me in. I refuse.” Essence colored the Reaver’s eyes unbeknown to him.
Another Essence Fissure forced the scarlet tide back. Its pressure built, cracks showed on Essence Fissure before the spell reached its half-life in duration.
“Continue to hold back, lad, and this spell will bake us alive,” Wayfinder said
Luke used Polar South; its solution caught him off guard but made sense immediately.
“Sooty, pour out the entire pond in one go.”
The crow’s Spatial Feather floated in front of her, a small portal opened, and a wall of water poured out. Luke concentrated Frost Essence to one hand and touched the water wave as it began to crash into the scarlet flames. Water froze, then immediately vaporized into mist afterward. The spell’s fallout finally stabilized, and remnant fire smoldered a few inches from Luke. All traces of ice and water were wiped from existence.
Luke observed the ‘ice cave’ behind him; as far as he could see, the snowpack trail transformed into small puddles, and the iced walls turned into slush. He returned to the display to his front. The visual image recalled a recent memory.
“This place is more molten than the cinder brood. What sort of spell does that?” Luke said
“A high-tier one; I’ve no idea who the flame freak is, but that scroll shouldn’t be something he can afford,” Wayfinder said.
“I’m burnt wood; Luke, some essence, please?” Xera sounded tired.
After he stepped back further to a more temperate location, Luke controlled essence to fill Xera. The wand rapidly repaired; Luke worriedly inspected Whispering Edge; the blade was warm but otherwise fine, except for one hairline crack on the left edge. Luke reformed Xera into a sword and then sheathed her. He pulsed out frost essence as he walked but could only tame the remnant flame at a languid pace.
Molten flooring cooled; Luke’s steps turned more aggressive. His face began to distort, and his breathing rate began to rise. He controlled himself. Luke wouldn’t care about collateral damage to protect Sooty; he couldn’t build up anger toward the fire mage trying to protect his team members.
“Sun’s Wrath, I’ll have to see if I can learn about that spell. You know anything, Wayfinder?” Luke asked aloud, in case Wayfinder had any experience with the spell.
As Luke slowly returned to where he found the hunter group, Wayfinder answered, “Can’t say I know the inner workings. But me needle could feel it; that spell wasn’t some tier 2 hat trick. No, at least a high tier three spell or low four. Best you handle that mage with care, lad; someone who can get their hands on a scroll like that is either connected or lucky enough to make gnomes in green hats jealous.”
Frost returned to Luke’s path, his own doing, the Reaver reclaiming the Ice Horde’s natural state. “I’ve been humbled again. A random scroll can put me in the grave. I want to see this world’s peak.”
Luke stopped and reached the wide clearing. Instead, it was closer to a crater with blasted black obsidian walls. The fire mage was sobbing on his knees, the wind barrier gone, and four hunters weakly breathed around him. Their clothes fused to their skin, and their weapons half melted. Their features were bloody. The worst affected only kept scraps of skin. A shiver began to build in Luke, and he attempted to keep it back by focusing on other details. Luke couldn’t find any skeletal monster remains. The cavern ceiling greatly expanded upward. Rock shards fell periodically.
The flame mage spotted Luke and glared at him before breathing out in desolate defeat, “I didn’t think I’d fail to control it this much. I know you have no reason to help, but I’ll find a way to repay you if you can save them.” The mage gestured to each of his four companions. The man kept a steeled look, but his body shaking betrayed the emotions within. Luke noticed empty health potion bottles carelessly discarded beside their shriveling bodies.
The tragic scene caused an associated memory to resurface; images began to flood Luke’s brain, and he shouted, “I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER.” He clutched a palm to his forehead, hunched over. A shaking overtook him. Luke smashed his right cheek, trying to shock himself to prevent an episode. The further he grew, the harder it was to suppress the past.
Sooty flapped up from his shoulder from the surprise. Luke managed an apologetic look for his bird but offered no explanation to the startled fire mage.
He forced back the bubbling thoughts with action. Luke came beside the four hunters. He took out the homeostatic salve he bought, “Pour this on the worst spots. I’ll prepare the Dyrad Bandages since the health potions weren’t enough.” The man kept his tongue back and took the salve, slathering it over his four teammates.
Luke wrapped critical areas with the Dryad Bandages, his triage skills too skilled to be someone inexperienced with first aid. The fire mage spoke, “I applied the salve. Do you have any more bandages? Please, Kjal is on the world spirit’s door.” The man grasped Luke’s arm.
Sooty pecked away the arm for Luke, whose gaze turned increasingly cloudy. Sooty nipped his neck, and the Reaver regained himself.
He only hesitated momentarily before taking out the last two Dryad bandages. Perhaps more bandages would make a difference this time. Life didn’t have to repeat how it did on Earth during the vanishing. Luke handed one to the fire mage before he wrapped the last one in his possession over a boiling body, the most damaged of the four. Luke assumed this one to be Kjal.
The two extra bandages soothed the body parts they wrapped. Green mist gushed from their wrappings, and fresh skin slowly reformed. The fire mage said what Luke was thinking.
“It won’t be enough; Godrel, Radagast, and Kjal have almost no hope of survival. Michael, that resilient fool’s wood techniques will spring up and save him.”
Luke scanned the three most damaged bodies. The fourth body unconsciously commanded wood tendrils to keep together, its leg gone, replaced by a sealed stub. A cold calculation came back to Luke.
“Pick two,” He said, turning to the fire mage.
“What?” The fire mage appeared confused, but the underlying meaning began to dawn on him.
Luke blinked, and his features grew still, “I can freeze two in ice, one hand per body. It’s all I can come up with.” He allowed a gap of silence for a moment, “You, their leader, decides which two gets a chance to live and which one will die.”
“You can’t save all three of them?” The mage begged, beginning to deny reality.
“I’m a spell sword, not a healer. It’s your sheer luck that I’m able to use the frost element. If you don’t hurry, they’ll die anyway. This measure can only buy you time; they need a healer. Choose.”
“There’s no way I can do that. Save all three of them. If only you had helped us earlier!” The mage’s eyes widened, his glare filled with blood vessels.
“I’ll choose for you then.”
Luke put one hand on who he thought was Kjal and another body, chosen solely for being the closer of the two remaining enflamed bodies. The one with withering wood could possibly survive without additional help, so the Reaver left him alone.
As for the last…well, Luke wasn’t a miracle maker.
He encased the two rapidly in frost, which steamed for a while before his continued outpouring won over. The two bodies became covered in thin ice.
“Great, now for Godrel. Save my friend.” The mage pleaded.
“I don’t have that level of control over this frost. The finesse required is something I can only do through my two hands. Even that is only possible with constant contact. I’ll be coming with you until they reach a healer.”
Luke desired to press on and clear the ice horde, but that could come later. These four needed help immediately.
The mage began to mutter before an aura of guilt surrounded him. He picked up Michael and Godrel, trying to put the two over his shoulder as gently as possible.
“I know the way through these caves to a nexus. A safe point is there. If we hurry, it shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.” The mage said.
Luke took one body under each arm, his palm refreshing the frost essence battling the searing heat these bodies radiated. He kept their mouths and noses open to breathe, untouched by his frost. The fire mage dashed down the cave. Luke followed with ease, his agility stat unchallenged at this movement rate.
With the mage’s lead, they twisted and turned. Luke’s memory had improved, and he kept a rough map of their trail in his head. With his actual map to reference, he’d know how to backtrack if needed.
True to his words, the fire mage brought them to a conjoined cavern within ten minutes. Multiple cave entrances led to this place. Green crystals lined its outskirts; several hunter groups rested in the area. Their rushed entrance with four mutilated bodies provoked curious murmurs.
“Accept it; it’s the only way I can get the recall scroll to work with you.” The fire mage dropped a scroll with a lotus emblazoned over its parchment from his spatial bag.
[Chander Pyrite has invited you to a raid. Accept? Y/N]
Luke suppressed his usual skepticism for the well-being of the two men under his arms. He couldn’t move a finger properly in this circumstance. To remedy that, he tried an idea.
“Sooty, accept that for me.”
The crow grasped the recall scroll with a talon and pecked at the notice with her beak. To Luke’s relief, the measure worked.
After Luke accepted the invite, the scroll withered, as did another one unfurled in front of the mage. A purple light expanded in two portions. One section swallowed the mage, and the two he carried. The other overtook Luke and his two patients.
With the surprise visit over as fast as it began, a single sentence sparked discussion.
“How do you get immolated in an Ice dungeon?” A human woman asked with profound confusion.