I can’t help but scream in frustration, jumping away again, breath hissing through my teeth at the sting in my arm. My feet land, metal scraping against the stonework in a loud screech before I right myself. It never moves, can’t as far as I can tell.

My opponent in this chamber, the latest in a long procession of single combats with one powerful creature after the next, is an odd ball of metal, no larger than a ball a child might kick around the street. Unlike a typical ball, this one bobs up and down in the air all on its own, never approaching or retreating, simply bobbing there. It is the most confounding monster I have ever encountered.

Steel Lineleech(Rank Two)

I look down, seeing blood leak from a cut along my bicep, the skin already working to knit itself back together. Not such a bad wound, not nearly as bad as the hole it had put in my thigh on the last attempt, but it didn’t evidence much progress either. I discard the last of my frustration in a ball of green fire hurled at the monster and watch it splash off an invisible shroud just a foot away from the bobbing orb–just as I already knew that it would. The light of the fire reveals the orb as having changed shape, dozens of steel spines now sticking from its surface, growing and shrinking like tongues tasting the air, eventually disappearing back into the smooth metal of the strange monster without leaving a trace.

The thing is like a riddle, a riddle designed solely to confound me. Seeing that my fire does not work from a distance, I tried to duck into it, past whatever barrier it has to deliver the blow, but that is when it attacks. Nothing I have is a match for those stabbing spears that erupt from its surface, perhaps my breastplate is but I am not keen on testing that. It isn’t as if I can turn back either. I have come too far, and so I am left to solve this puzzle of a monster.

I grind the butt of my staff into the floor, feeling the sensation of grit being pressed beneath it rattle up through the wood. Dashing in again is a risk, quite a terrible one if I am being honest, and given how the monster refuses to move, one that I do not need to take. It occurs to me that perhaps I am ill-suited to fight this monster, maybe all it needs is a good smack by someone as strong as Jor’Mari or Macille to shatter the thing. I shake my head, no use in wasting time on such thoughts.

It continues to bob, perfectly content to hover there, mocking me with its unshakable silence. There is an option that I have not tried, one that might pit my greatest strength against its. The thought of finding out who might triumph in such a scenario pushes me onto the path.

I stamp my feet, wiggling my toes inside my boots into the most comfortable position, and set my stance, the head of my staff pointing directly at the monster.

“Who do you think can hold their breath the longest, you or me?”

A roar of green flame erupts from the head of my staff, tearing through the space and clashing against the shell of the barrier protecting the creature. I pour my all into the flame, every muscle in my body clenching tight, my mind set on wringing out every bit of mana that I might have tucked away.

Burning as bright as I can, it takes more than a few minutes to run myself dry. I drop my staff before I get to the end of it, just a bit of blue left in the line always floating in my sight, numb fingers unable to clench it anymore. I gasp in air, falling on my ass, holding myself up with my hands as I stare at the monster in front of me. It continues to hover there, but minutes of fiery torture have rendered the barrier housing the creature visible.

Around the metallic ball is a sphere of angry green lines riven out of the air. They are the lines of rivers running over an invisible landscape, chaotic, mad with movement. Before I can even catch my breath, the lines fade again into an unseeable shell surrounding the bobbing monster.

I can’t help but frown at this annoying obstacle, pulling some water from my inventory to sip on while feeling flushes back into my extremities with an aching pulse. I watch it for a time longer, studying it, trying to understand if there is something that I do not see, some trick in plain sight that I haven’t grasped. By the time that my mana is most of the way recovered –forty-three minutes and sixteen seconds later by Galea’s count–I must arrive at the conclusion that if there is some hidden secret I cannot puzzle it out.

“You take the first round,” I say, wrapping my fingers tight around my staff once more, pulling myself to my feet. A few quick breaths to ready myself. I point the staff; fire burns away again.

Exhaustion creeps up on me as my mana dwindles. It starts as a spasm in my thigh that settles into a burn in my hip. My left calf starts to shake, leaving me looking like I am tapping out some crazy tune with my heel. My right leg buckles, my knee snapping hard into the stone. I gasp for air, dropping the staff again, more out of breath, out of feeling, than in pain.

I keep myself up with one shaking hand on the stone, sweat beading all along my arm, pooling into my gloves. With a practiced effort, the gauntlets vanish into my inventory, leaving my trembling fingers to slide across the cold stone, to feel the trickle as the sweat slides down, slipping sideways over my skin, and seamlessly joining with the stone.

Orange hair sticks to my face. I stare through it, head sideways, at the monster that continues to stand sentinel in the center of the room. Those angry green lines are about it once more, like strange cracks in the world that surrounds the metal monster.

“Two for you,” I croak out. Shaking hand patting around me, searching for my canteen of water. I take another drag, coughing as the water splashes over my parched throat.

When I look again, the lines continue to linger, their width slowly shrinking away, but still visible. “So, that is your limit.” I fall back, staring at the monster and the lines, nursing my water. “Unlucky for you, friend.”

I’ve lost track of time. Galea can tell me, but I have asked her to keep quiet about it for now. No doubt, my group is waiting for me by now. They likely figure that I’m dead. I would in their situation.

My mana has recovered. With a grunt, I force my hand to clench around my staff, but I don’t bother to rise from the floor. Sitting, legs splayed out on the ground in front of me, I hold my staff in two hands and lock it to my side beneath an elbow. Fire roars out of the head of the weapon, burning away at the monster’s shield, heating the air to sweltering.

There is something mystifying in the flames, a waving force that drawls my scattered attention, tries to pull me in. It makes me think of black sands, of some half-forgotten dream from long ago. The scream and crackle of the fire almost sounds like a voice, like a whisper in my ear, a dark promise.

A hideous crack pulls me back, pain shooting sideways through my head, leaving a high whine in my ears. The green fire pouring from the head of my staff ripples, seems to grow smoother. Another second passes, and the all too familiar sound of death in flames starts to echo about. I can’t help but look; I dismiss the fire.

The metallic monster continues its slow dance up and down in the center of the room, but the side facing me is burned, a huge hole stripped out of what appears to be a metal shell. Inside that hole I see pale flesh, a mass of stubby arms, and one violet eye staring out at me. Curiosity vanished; the flames burn back into life. I don’t stop until Galea informs me that it is dead, don’t stop for a good minute after even.

My armor disappears, leaving me sitting in the lone chamber, chest heaving as I suck in air, arms on my knees. “I…guess,” I manage through hungry inhales, “I…can hold my…breath longer.”

“That is your fifth victory in a row,” Galea says, making herself known at my side. “Quite the accomplishment.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

I wave vaguely at the air in front of me, not enough strength to even lift my arm off my leg. “This was just about being stubborn.”

“Or daring.”

“Or daring. Exeter’s fancy robe, I’m tired.” It feels like an age before I can shake enough feeling back into my legs to stand. Another door has appeared out of the stone at the opposite end of the chamber, just like all the others before. This door stands different from all of those previous, however. Instead of a snake emblazoned upon it, a cerulean chest, open wide and displaying glimmering jewels and shining coins inside stands proudly on the surface of the door. Beneath it in flowing script is a single word, “Rewards.”

“I would advise waiting until you are fully recovered,” Galea says, moving close to the door and appearing to sniff at it.

“That doesn’t sound very daring to me,” I say. Honestly, that is the main reason that I consider waiting. Who would want people to mutter that about you at your funeral, she was daring? “Ten minutes.”

Taking a step forward into the hallway, I find the path forward blocked. A translucent barrier shines with a faint twinge of red in front of me, a chamber beyond, and people moving about inside. Muffled voices sneak through the wall in front of me, catches of conversation too distorted to tell the meaning, but I do not care for that. In front of me, among those gesturing, arguing, raising their voices in the room beyond, is Coriander Mel’Draven.

There are five people in the room, a small confine barely larger than the white square rooms above, all concerned with the east wall. In the wall are set nine boxes, three-by-three, each with a glowing word written on the front that I cannot read through the distortion of the semi-transparent wall. Coriander stands there, even with the oddity of the barrier between us I will never mistake that woman, her hands pointing, in clear argument with one of the others.

I set my staff to the wall without thinking, pouring burning green fire into the wall, trying to bring it down, teeth gnashing as I watch their argument. By the time that my energy is spent, not so much as a smoking scratch has been left on the barrier. I kick the wall as hard as I can, not at all caring for the pain that shoots up my leg, anger fueling me.

A shadow crosses in front of the barrier no more than a few inches away from my face. The suddenness of it makes me fall back with a yelp, barely keeping from tangling my feet with one another. A step away from the barrier, the shadow resolves into Kendon, replete in his heavy armor, tapping his wicked hammer against an armored shin as he moves along the perimeter of the room, head whipping about this way and that. Those inside the room with him shy away as he passes by, but the man seems to pay them no mind, slowly making a circuit of the room, looking for something.

His gaze falls on exactly where I am, and I feel my breath catch. Did I need to burn all my mana away so uselessly? He doesn’t see me and continues his circuit of the room.

The flash of anger that overcame me sighs away as I struggle to get ahold of myself. I try to focus on the room, on the conversation taking place, but the words are impossible to understand. One of the people in the room nods to a few others, walking to the wall, and opening one of the boxes. She pulls something from inside, showing it off to the others, before one-by-one they all file out of an opening at the opposite end of the room. Kendon lingers a moment, looking around, until he too leaves by the door. Finally, the door to the chamber vanishes back into the stone, leaving a smooth surface.

The barrier in front of me makes some impossible movement, seeming to slide up and down at the same time, vanishing. I breathe hard, trying to force myself calm, but that is understandably futile. I suit myself in armor before striding forward, making certain that I am as prepared as possible for whatever might happen. Nothing, I am alone in the room, the wall of boxes the only feature.

Words have appeared above the boxes, lines of script blazing green that I am certain had not been there before. “You have passed the Path of Daring!” they read. “Choose three from among these prizes.”

No doubt, the language indicates the boxes set into the wall, and on this side of the barrier, I can read what is inscribed on each. Each bears a single word, some hint at what might be inside: Strength, Power, Riches, Knowledge, Need, Arms, Protection, Desire, Recovery.

“Perhaps this is another puzzle, Mistress Charlene,” Galea says, floating around the boxes, studying each in turn.

“I don’t think so.” I step forward, looking at each of the boxes. It might be wise to stay a while, carefully consider my options, decide on a course after thinking it all the way through, but seeing her just now, being slow is the last thing on my mind. I select one almost on a whim, opening the box labeled “Arms.” I find only a deep darkness inside once the lid is lifted and fish my hand around in the black up to my elbow before my fingers graze against something cold and smooth. I seize the object, finding my fingers wrap around a cold grip, and heave as I pull the thing out.

As it comes from the box, I realize what I am retrieving, and my eyes widen as the haft of a metal staff begins to emerge from the dark. A staff, six-feet-long, made of a cold metal so pearly white it reminds me of bone rings to the floor, the head bouncing off one of the other boxes as I struggle with the heavy instrument. In the center of the smooth metal is a wrap of violet leather. Gripping the instrument from there, I find its considerable weight easy to control, hardly any effort. The white metal widens toward the head of the staff, becoming a bident with two wicked and long points, and suspended between the two almost-spear points is golden filigree made into the shape of an eye, a dark piece of glittering onyx set as the iris, a sapphire the pupil.

Staff of Luminous Insight(Very Rare):

A powerful instrument created of Moonsilver, is the product of moonlight being trapped in physical form, an art closely guarded and well hidden. This staff holds insight into the fundamental workings of magic itself, allowing for even the most inept of bearers to perceive the magical about them. Magic performed with this staff will have an increase in its efficacy that will grow in relation with the wielders understanding of the staff, and spells woven with it will be made easier. Additionally, this staff’s attunement to the manasphere allows for it to detect far off magical signatures and aides the wielder in navigating toward what they seek.

Enhancement: +50 Magic, +10% Magical efficacy

Power: Magic Detection, Magic Seeking

I read the description in front of me again to make certain that I have it right. The staff makes a strange metallic ring as I move it through the air, like the sound of a sword cutting hard. I look to my other staff, weighing it. It has been invaluable, but I am wondering if it can even compare to the Staff of Luminous Insight. I shake my head, putting both away.

Two boxes remain for me to choose from, two chances. The sense of power that my new staff imposed pushes me to wait, to consider closer my options. What is it that I want? What is it that I need? Just thinking about those questions makes the decision for me.

I reach out, opening the box labeled “Power.” The darkness inside is more shallow than the previous, my fingers finding the bottom of the box, making me feel around. The back of my hand touches something heavy, pushing it away, and I need to swipe to catch ahold of it. Pulling it free, seeing the intricate lace of gold and dark metal, I find myself more stunned than I had when I first pulled free the staff.

Soul Cage of Light and Shadow(Very Rare)

A soul cage woven from gold and animus steel, the intricate play of these two metals form the foundation for a young magician’s leap into the world. Inscribed with guiding runes for both light and shadow, this soul cage helps in cultivating the first steps of a body forged with these concepts at its heart.

The sphere, no larger than an apple in my palm, is the smallest soul cage that I have ever seen, and far more intricate in its design. My sight grows weary simply attempting to follow its sloping pattern, the dancing play of the two metals looking like the most chaotic ball of yarn possible, thin vacancies showing the hollowness of the cage inside. Holding my it close to my face, I can just barely make out impossibly small and fine script lining the surface of the metal. I am only just barely aware of the difficulty making such a thing might be. It is a feat of enchantment that I have never seen before, even the strange mechanisms of this tower seem simple next to it.

It strikes me that this is the first time I have ever held a soul cage. I can’t help but looking about, holding the ball to my chest, a sudden fear that someone will sneak up on me and steal my new treasure coming over me.

I have not been as diligent in the use of soul cages during my self-study as I might have been, something I will no longer ignore, that is certain. What I know is that they do as they say, trap your soul in the physical world, pulling it out of the divine world. Their makeup is important in some way that I do not understand. In some way, they help establish the basis for which a magician might strive for the third rank, the rank at which the body and soul interweave, as shown by the regalia that also comes with crossing into the second rank. Most never strive for that, the danger necessary deters them. Those that do, however, look for powerful soul cages to set themselves up for taking that eventual step. Soul cages like the one I hold clenched in my hand.

An irrational fear of putting the soul cage in my inventory sticks in my head for a moment. It is an effort to push aside my awe and pocket the thing away. I still have a ways to go before the item will ever be useful to me, no need to fumble with it now.

A smile pulls at my lips as I look over the remaining boxes. I would have never guessed that such a room of treasure might exist inside this tower. It almost makes up for the guild constantly putting my life in danger.

I am torn between wanting to consider the best choice and wanting to hurry back to the group, to push ahead and reach whatever destination we are all going toward first. There is also the consideration that I have several soul reinforcements waiting for me to complete. I click my tongue, eyes eventually landing on the final box that I will open, the final prize that I will seek–Knowledge.

The familiar touch of paper slides across my fingers. Three pieces of paper, scrawled in a meticulous hand, are all I find when I pull back from the box. My eyes roam over the words, wheels beginning to turn in my mind. This could be more valuable than the other two treasures, but only if I try to make it be.