The Reaver’s feet slightly sank into the brown dirt. The recoil zapped up his legs. He welcomed the air into his lungs and felt various groups look over before returning to their conversations.
“Last damn time I come here, how do I nearly die in a dungeon I’m over-prepared for? Corruption and greed man, ruining both worlds I’ve come to now.”
Luke observed the area and soon found who he was looking for. Walking a short distance, he regrouped with Veyri and Melen, who occupied the northern center section by themselves. The other groups, either out of respect or fear, moved away from the two; Luke wasn’t sure which.
An additional detail stood out to Luke: by now, the groups planning in this area were mostly made of Monic people, with the token members of the other three primary races in the Duchy. That being the humans, tora, or elves.
“Practically only Monic hunters around; must be midnight or later,” he said, stopping in front of Veyri and Melen. “Sorry if saying that so bluntly offends you, Melen.”
Melen shook his head, “Not at all; we Monics have always been a people of the night. As long as you don’t look down on us for it, I won’t mind you using our habits as a tell if it’s night outside or not.”
Luke breathed out, relieved; he’d started to form a good opinion of Melen and preferred not to upset the man needlessly, “Glad to hear that.” Luke shifted his eyes to Veyri, “What’s the plan for you two? I remember overhearing you originally came to help Melen on the quest chain for this place.”
Veyri seemed overly interested in her nails and didn’t look up from them as she replied to Luke, “Since someone took away all the fun in the Ice Divide, I’m going to take Melen and try to see if we can track down Selandus, the raid boss for the Flame Divide.”
She put an elbow over Melen’s shoulder, “Should make my trip out worth it here if we hunt him down. You took down Onelius recently so that cowardly Salamander is around if he’s not dead already. The two eventually end up hunted by more veteran teams within days, but occasionally naive idiots will try to snatch either one up before real hunters show up.” She paused, “Those groups wipe with near-certainty; hunters rushing to achieve a feat before they’re ready tends to lead to an early grave.”
Luke shifted uncomfortably; he’d unknowingly run into one such group. As for clearing out the Ice side before Veyri could, he could only send a silent apology over to Melen.
“Thanks for your help, you two; I’ve had enough of this place. Heading back to Sylen for now. Contact me when it suits you, Veyri.” Luke brought out a hand, Melen shook it, but Veyri instead said, “Next time I shake your hand is when you join my tower team, Luke Wallace. Watch yourself on the road back to Sylen.”
Sooty rattled goodbye to the pair, who already stepped onto the cloud path past the red wisps. Xera shook excitedly in her sheath. Also giving her version of goodbye, if Luke had to guess.
Luke started inspecting the items he had gained but thought better of it. He could do that in the relative safety of Sylen’s walls, not around ragtag hunter groups with unknown intents. He didn’t exactly feel at ease, having survived an assassination attempt less than an hour ago.
A dungeon was the perfect place to create an ‘accident’ after all.
Luke came to the very center of the room; the portal that served both as the exit and entrance was out of reach by a few yards, suspended in the air. Stumped, he first thought to exit the dungeon. A window popped up.
[Conditions met. Exit Orlan’s Beast Divide? Y/N Warning: You cannot re-enter the dungeon for twenty-four hours after exiting]
He pressed yes, but the time restriction shed light on why people stood around for as long as they did once they entered. If they rushed their planned side and botched the attempted delve, then they could only exit and try again a day or two later. Repeated attempts in a short period weren’t possible.
As white light surrounded him to take Luke out of the dungeon, the uneasy feeling in the back of his mind continued to build.
One blink later, Luke reappeared in front of the original portal, radiating its split air pressure, cold and dry on the blue. Then, warm and moist on the orange side. The place was deserted except for a single hunter group consisting entirely of Monic men and women.
The twin moons hung high in the air, pale gold and bright silver; their light shined down, partially blocked by the jungle to Luke’s right but unabated on the ice wasted land to his left. With his resistances bolstered through equipment and quest rewards, Luke experienced a slight warmth from the blazing part of the dungeon portal, but the arctic winds screaming out the blue may as well have been a summer breeze at this point.
Surprised by the exit of a single man, the monic party furiously whispered to themselves before the mage called out to Luke.
“Are you the one with the talking companion the whole city is in a craze about?” The mage asked, his eyes fixated on Sooty.
Luke slowly looked at the mage and his group, then back to Sooty, who tilted her head then nipped him between his eyebrows playfully.
This misunderstanding has gone too far. But would it cause a greater uproar if people knew Xera did the talking? Which is the one that will attract less covetous eyes?
For now, Luke played into it, but with more of a politician’s approach. He closed the distance between him and the group, eyes shifting for any unexpected movement.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that my companion can talk. Sooty here, however, is glorious whether she can speak or not.”
The monic mage opened a gap in his transparent barrier for Luke, inviting him in, “Here, you must be boiling and freezing at the same time. You’ve no idea the amount of rumors circulating in the city about you.” The monic’s black runes glowed slightly on his cheeks. Like each of his party members, his skin shimmered with vitality under the moon. Their appearance the opposite of their tired and stressed look when awake during daylight.
Luke’s interest was piqued, so he took the respite but resolved to make it short. That feeling in the back of his head wouldn’t go away no matter how he internally consoled himself.
He said, “You make it sound like it’s more than one.”
The monic mage nodded, “Sharp ears, you’re responsible for more than one piece of gossip. Of course, the wealthy and powerful with companion professions, or those with classes like beast master, are trying to verify the authenticity of the second talking companion in the three kingdoms.”
“Second? There’s one already? I overheard if someone tries to take away Sooty, it resets her level, and they can’t do anything with her without being a companion class themselves.”
Closing the gap he created in the barrier, the mage shifted topics, “Ultimately, the companion types are in a tizzy about it because the strongest companion in the known Edgelands can talk.” The mage pointed his nose up, his tone revealing an odd sense of bragging, “The overall lore is only a mythical beast can break the language gap,” his fingers tapped against his side while quickly looking around, “That and the god-beasts or their diplomats, of course.”
Luke laughed loudly; he loved Sooty, but she was a city crow, about as far as you can get from mythical origins. Not that he’d have it any other way. He wiped an eye and said, “Sooty’s not a mythical creature; she’s a crow.”
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The monic hunters all looked at each other, then back at Luke; the mage spoke again, the other four party members apparently content to stay silent, “Sound’s mythical enough to me; I’ve no idea what a crow is. Is that an acronym for something sinister like ‘Celestial Reaper Of Worlds’?”
“If Sooty turns out to be a celestial, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m more interested in that other talking companion you mentioned, though.”
Taken aback, the mage said, “What, did you live under a rock?
“A very special rock called being a Ferus.”
Unbelieving, the mage continued, “You’ve never heard of the companion that makes every beast master and hunter go mad with envy? It’s paired with the greatest warlord-“
“Tell me the damn companion already, jeez.”
“Sorry, sorry, not every day you run into the truly ignorant.”
Luke’s eyebrow twitched uncontrollably.
Picking up on Luke’s cues, the mage cut to the chase, “It’s Violet Spirit Flame Tiger, Basai, owned by-“
The nagging feeling from earlier continued to intensify. Luke held up a hand, “Sorry, I’ll stop you there. Basically, people who can use companions will stop at nothing to obtain Sooty if it’s verified she can talk. Because they think they’d gain a companion with Basai’s potential. Thanks for the short break, but I need to leave, now.”
Luke left, his pace slow at first but rapidly increased; once a safe distance away from any living soul, Luke spoke lowly to Wayfinder, “Use Devil’s Needle.”
With their recent experience, both knew the slight possibility that another set of eyes could be on them always existed. One the party couldn’t sense. Playing into rumors and possibilities, Luke had Sooty open her beak repeatedly as Wayfinder’s voice sprang out, “Aye, I can certainly do that for you, lad. But what for?”
Listening to his bestial instincts, Luke said, “Show me the way to survive the night, Wayfinder.”
Saying no more, Wayfinder’s clasp opened, and blue energy radiated out the compass; Luke brought the compass forward slightly with his right hand, pointing it out. As the needle spun rapidly, ninety percent of Wayfinder’s directions turned black, the other ten percent white.
When Luke followed the needle, after some distance, the needle would change in the direction the white portion shifted to. Black skulls popped in and out of the black-colored section, biting at the edges.
“Why is Devil’s Needle different this time, Wayfinder?” Luke asked, perturbed.
Wayfinder stayed silent. Luke had no way to verify the reason behind it. He instead followed the needle, rushing in his movement. He passed by the guard tower; the needle stayed on the road, an unsurprising flow of events.
In an unanticipated turn, a memory fragment fused into Luke’s vision, showing multiple outcomes; they rapidly churned like film until they stopped on one frame. This turned into motes, and knowledge molded Luke’s mind.
Luke stopped and stored as much of his combat gear as he could in his Inventory; he changed out into the casual civilian clothes he bought earlier. A linen long-sleeve shirt and cotton pants. He anticipated Xera would refuse to enter the Inventory, even in this circumstance, so he changed her to a wand.
By the end, the only Equipment he wore out of his usual set was the Demon Hide Boots, Xera, and Wayfinder. As a side effect, while on the tail end of the trail away from the Beast Divide, Luke felt a nominal freeze and blasting heat. He took the crystal spray he bought from the tailor and applied it all over himself, Xera, Wayfinder, and Sooty. Any trace of blood, grime, or sweat adhered to the spray and drifted away in the wind. Sooty shook her feathers repeatedly, displeased.
“Bear with it, pal. No time for a proper bird bath.”
Assured he altered his appearance well, Luke gave out additional instruction, “Sooty, go hang out in the jungle area a ways back for a bit. Come back in half an hour or so.” He made eye contact with his crow, “Follow our link if you get lost. If that monic mage was telling the truth, you’re going to be too recognizable. Run into anything dangerous and disregard what I said, okay?”
Sooty tapped her claws, hesitated, but ultimately listened to Luke. She flew off, infiltrating the jungle a hundred yards away.
So far, the needle had pointed him precisely to his originally intended path. Right when Luke started to believe he wasted using the ability, letting the heebie-jeebies get to him, the needle inverted, and a magic pointer pinpointed to the ground at the road’s center. The intention was clear to him: wait here. Interestingly, Wayfinder’s appearance turned plain, but Luke felt the ability had yet to end.
Luke reassessed where he was. As it happened, he stopped at the intersection for the three paths leading out Sylen’s gate. The road was deserted, except for a lone man coming this way, and further in the distance, leaving the gate was a hunter party. He turned toward the center road and put his back to the oncoming visitors; he acted like he was scrutinizing the signpost.
A lone set of creeping footsteps slowly meandered behind Luke. He acted like he hadn’t heard a thing. The steps stopped, perhaps four, maybe five feet behind Luke.
“A lone hunter out for a night stroll? You’ll be wanting to go to the left or right then.”
Luke turned to face the voice. His eyes filtered moonlight, thanks to Wayfinder, he still possessed the vision stat. He fought against the subconscious habit of spreading essence to his eyes. Luke witnessed a monic man stand before him. Red runes glowed on the man’s cheeks, but Luke couldn’t make sense of his facial details. The longer he attempted to do so, the more he felt an uncanny valley effect.
Shaking his head, Luke said, “And which way are you going?” Luke studied the man’s appearance further, moreso what he wore and his stance. Putting aside the partially hidden face, the Monic strapped a short sword and a dagger to the same side of his upper right leg.
Reddish leather covered his body well. White hair spilled out the back of his head. The man stood rigid and straight yet felt incredibly relaxed to Luke.
The man displayed an unnaturally wide smile, further unsettling Luke by the fact he couldn’t put together the rest of the man’s face above his mouth. The Monic man said, “The same direction you came from, the right.” The man pointed with his left hand over his body.
“If you knew I came from the right, why suggest going that direction again for a night stroll?” Luke kept down the rising unease.
The man’s eyes studied Luke closely. Luke found a trace of confusion hidden deep within them.
The monic stranger didn’t answer; instead, he asked, “Where’s the rest of your gear? Outside the walls isn’t safe. Never know what you’ll encounter.”
Luke rolled his eyes, “The city doesn’t feel much better. Too many people with an agenda in that place. Can’t walk two steps without stepping over a thug trying to take your last copper.”
The monic man slowly nodded, “Tell me, young human, you’re no monic. Why come out this late in the night? Unless you left a dungeon recently?” The monic’s aura spread out from his body, scarlet red and visible to the naked eye, it pressed down on Luke.
Luke laughed, “Me? A dungeon? I’m lucky enough to eke out a win against level five boars as a frost mage professional. This wand of mine costs me about everything I earn to merely maintain it. No, I’m an apprentice herbalist.” Luke intentionally kept his eyes on the man’s weapons for a moment, “You must be a high-ranking hunter, right? With weapons like those.” He paused, “And an aura like that.”
The monic man grew silent for an extended period, only scanning Luke further. Eventually, he reopened his mouth, “Only regular clothes and sturdy boots on, even for a low-level profession holder, that’s quite foolish.” He glanced at Wayfinder, “A compass instead of a necklace? Never mind.” The monic man slowly stepped forward twice, closing the distance between the two by about a foot, “Most certainly, you’re taking my aura too well for a normal professional; most your kind can’t stomach being tested by an ascended’s aura.”
Luke sidestepped the unsaid question, “I’m sure you noticed my wand; like I said, it costs everything to maintain it. No budget to expand and gain gear, at least, not until I reach higher levels in my profession, but you know how it is.” Luke sighed dramatically, “Painfully slow to level up a profession instead of a class, and it doesn’t help hunter parties want nothing to do with me. Still stuck on the first rank of Frost Bolt to this day. As for struggling as an apprentice herbalist, don’t even get me started.”
“Is that so? How many hunter parties have you been in?” The monic’s necklace flashed; he kept his feet spread and knees slightly bent.
“Haha, putting me on the spot, are you? How embarrassing to say it out loud. I’ve only ever been invited to join one party before. Enough about me; I doubt you’re out here to have a casual chat with a lowly human herbalist.” Luke caught sight of the monic’s necklace. It glowed yellow after his answer.
The monic slowly slid his hand down to his dagger, making the movement seem unintentional. Luke kept an ignorant appearance, but inside, his mind raced. This man before him was perhaps the most ascended person he’d met since leaving the tomb. Despite his external persona, Luke internally sweated at the unexpected interrogation.
Right as he planned to use Essence Fissure and run, a lovely voice called out.
“Luke! Never thought I’d see you so soon. How is Sylen treating you? Are you settling in well?”
The monic man took his hand off the hilt of his dagger and let his arm hang naturally. He curtly said, “Seems I’ve wasted too much time. Be careful where you move in the night, young herbalist.” Without a sound, and despite Luke fixating his eyes on him, the man vanished, a flicker of shadow mixed into the air.
A wind’s whisper permeated the area, barely audible to Luke, “Etot el Seerae.”
Perhaps it was the timing, but Luke swore he saw a holy circle above Elnora’s head as she walked around her group. Terga, Kite, and an unknown pair of monic women were with her.
Elnora stepped up to him but then looked around, “Wasn’t someone here with you? Where did they go? Did you hear something?”
Luke hugged Elnora, catching her off guard. You saved my ass, Elnora, whether you know it or not.