Flicking my glance about, I realize there’s still areas where there could be casters who hid out past the support columns of spun bone pillars. My spell was only forty feet across in a room that’s forty five meters across all told. I placed it dead center, and I’m sure some of the vacuum effect snagged enough wind to create a low pressure zone that would drag in some looser things outside its radius, I don’t think that includes people who were on the other sides of pillars and walls.

I request, “Shaylon, is Aegis okay to use while you’re moving ahead, and scouting around the outskirts of the room? Can I ask you to be sure to mop up any straggling spellcasters that we missed with the darkest star?”

Shaylon nods and their beautiful, gray, stony, serpentine body quickly slithers about, sidewinding and coiling over everything, checking all available hiding places. I breathe a momentary sigh of relief before checking on Atter. She’s ashen-faced, having witnessed me conjure a black-hole that destroyed several incredibly powerful looking creatures. I don’t want to tell her I lucked out, in case I need to cast the spell around her, or possibly on her, at a later date.

I feel like Atter and I are friends, and I fully intend to offer her every bit of trust that I can, but I’m also not foolish enough to intentionally nerf my own abilities around her when I’d only spent one night building trust in an enemy’s territory. Attraxiaz gathers her wits, and raises her eyebrows, as well as her “lead” from her bindings, so that I can tie it off to my belt again. I nod and accept it, so that we can begin moving forward, up to floor four.

Breathe Reggie, breathe. That was intense, but we managed to not take any major damage with our adamantite body bearing the brunt of everything, and teleporting out of two dangerous locations as birds. This is the first time that our ravens have all been wiped out. It was nerve wracking to be a floating consciousness with no body for even that infinitesimally brief moment where the spell allowed me to pick the nearest safe location to reform. I mean, not as terrifying as being in the chelicerae of a giant flyder. I’m going to have arachnophobia for sure if I didn’t already.

Blargh, friggin’ hell. I chuckle to myself while shaking my head at myself. If Atter here knew what was going through my head, would she be so afraid of me? Would she still be willing to follow through on her surrender?

Fourth floor, is coming up, I can sense barracks rooms off to some side hallways, a trap above me on the stairs, and likely two young adult dragons once again guarding a doorway. Do I even bother offering mercy? Ugh, I’m me. I have to try. I motion for Atter to stay back and once again untie the “lead” we’re using for her bonds to keep up the appearance of her being captive. As long as any scrying efforts don’t look too closely, or their images aren’t too sharp, simply having rope trailing from her wrists and ankles should be convincing enough.

They might assume it’s enchanted rope, why else would it be able to hold her? Hm, I should double-check to see if we *have* enchanted rope in our vaults. Erm, focus Reggie. Right, right. Rough-hewn slate-gray ramp and walls lined with pockets of glow-lichen sort of blend together after a while. I make certain I’m on number two of my Q C R as F F S catches up, finally having freed herself of the bone fluid entirely. I indicate to the trap that can be sprung overhead, and F F S surprises me.

F F S assumes her Salamanderian form, and begins climbing the walls towards the trap up ahead. Huh, I don’t know if it’s immense grip strength from the tiny gouges her claws are carving in the walls, or if she’s sticking to them somehow. We want to prevent this trap from springing, so that Boetah and Shaylon can continue following us up. Salamanderian there turns into an upside down sliding wave of ice as she crosses the ceiling, leaving behind a small glacial trail. She does it again in reverse, and then again, moving slightly forward each time, completely entrapping the cave-in trap, leaving icicles forming from the ceiling instead. This section of the hallway now looks like an open snow-white maw, with jagged teeth hanging down.

I’m afforded immense luck that I’ve got Atter down behind far out of sight range as I have a panic attack. My pulse hammers into my ears, sending my tinnitus screaming to the fore. My vision tunnels to a pinpoint as my eyes lose focus in and out repeatedly momentarily. I’m stuck reliving my nightmares on Day One. An absence of realism to my reality as every surface that could, couldn’t, should, shouldn’t, would, or wouldn’t be able to grow fanged maws does. Everything opens in the approximation of jagged mouths, simply tearing apart like an eyeless, poorly carved jack-o’-lantern. I’m sent careening, hurtling from one maw to the next as they chew me, rake me, gouge me, and spit me from one to another. My breathing is labored and certain muscles in my body spasm uncontrollably, mostly my right bicep, forearm, and thigh.

Gasping for breath, I come to after some time, Salamanderian standing guard directly in front of me. There’s compassion across his Ignan wavelength oddly enough. I’m touched, and grateful. That particular disability of mine is going to get me killed someday. Thankfully it happened here, beneath the trap, before the hallways filled with casters that are up ahead. Close your eyes Reggie, and just dash through, forget the visuals of the location. Deep breath, leap to the ceiling, and T K Surf along it to get your bearings now for the hallways up ahead.

Seven heat signatures in first hall on the left, eleven in the first hall on the right. Thirty heat signatures in the second hall on the left, yeesh. Eighteen heat signatures in the hall upcoming on the right. What is that, sixty six? Well, we’re on route to rout them sixty six. Heh. That feels vaguely referential. Anyway. I’ll scout ahead Salamanderian, I’m swapping to number three while I T K Surf along the ceiling. I need to know what kind of casters we’re dealing with.

One thing that my tinnitus does, now that it’s been brought to the fore of my attention, is drown out a noise I hadn’t even bothered making note of. There are clarion bells on each floor, passing along some signal of what the enemies are dealing with. I want to keep to bottom exit of their stronghold looking like the best option to flee through for Shiz and Tinth, so that means I need to keep having Boetah and Shaylon hang back, destroying stragglers, almost entirely missing the point. I might be able to get Shaylon’s help for this hallway though at least.

Calling telepathically, only slightly hissing my esses and zees, not teasing Shaylon at all, mimicking them out of adoration, I ask, “Shaylon, do you suppose you could sneak along the ceiling supports in these hallways, and activate Aegis, just before the intersections?”

I pleasantly shiver as their voice comes across our telepathic wavelength in answer, “Yes, it shall be so, Schism.”

Okay, phew, deep breath. As Shaylon approaches, get ready to start passing these intersections so that Aegis redirects lower level magics to them. Shaylon’s Latent doesn’t work on anything above sixth tier magic, it has trouble with sixth and fifth tier magic, and fourth tier magic is slightly off-course of being a direct redirect. Everything third tier and below though, Shaylon siphons away to themselves, and their nearly impenetrable hide.

If something casted eighth or ninth tier magic targeting Shaylon, I’d request that Aegis flee, while I raven-port away. I don’t think even the mighty Shield and Aegis would fair well under a meteor. I’ve lived through one in the dungeon leading to Maka-Akari, Gaea’s Cradle, but that left me rocked to within inches of my life. Teuila could pulverize a crater in one big enough to stand in, before it landed, minimizing the damage to some heat, and the concussive force of the wind moving ahead of the stone, before the stone disappears. But we don’t have her here, and I wouldn’t want her to try to make a big enough crater for Shaylon’s long form.

I’m getting distracted. Eighteen here in the first hallway intersection, bring myself into line of sight. Of course, they’re all spellcasters, but even some of the spellcasters are heavily armored Draconiacs. The tougher forces are higher up in the stronghold, Kinzul did say. That leaves me worried for Illy and the Dormir, but I haven’t heard any trouble yet. That Draconiac is wearing what looks like magma armor, and conjuring a blade of magma, virtually growing it from the armor to point at me. Well there’s a familiar type of foe to face.

I shake my head sadly, remembering my brother Mataalii. The lava blade launches at me, pointedly not being redirected by Shaylon’s Aegis Latent. I simply grip it with telekinesis and stick it into the face of the nearest unarmored caster though, as the magma mage begins conjuring a new one. Magmage over there is resistant to my telekinetic grip, their brand of magic seems to have heavy abjuration preventing certain things from affecting it. They’re also conjuring a larger barrage of obsidian spikes at this point. I feel a little evil, but I just lift three of their allies into the path of the barrage, using them as living shields, saving me the hassle of taking them out.

I call out, “If you haven’t heard, I’m Reggie Shellcracker, and I offer mercy to any who—“

I simply tilt my T K Surfboard to the side to dodge a strange bolt of glowing mist, that, again, isn’t redirected to Shaelon’s Aegis. There is a mass of spells being unleashed, that are being redirected towards Shaylon at this point, but any that don’t get redirected I should be wary of. The fact that, when the mist hits the ceiling behind me, it settles in place for a moment, then suddenly disappears, along with all the matter in contact with it, is proof enough of that. A big splotch of the ceiling now has a concave wound in it, as if it were disintegrated.

Someone else is directing a five foot wide beam of light around, fighting the slight curve that Shaylon’s Aegis is causing on the beam to figure out how to aim it with the bend in their laser. Where the beam of light contacts the walls, or gets accidentally swung into an ally, there’s a crisp smoking sizzle, but not of thermal heat, of radioactive heat, the molecules in the matter used against themselves, excited and filled with gamma particles to cause more friction.

Yeah, screw it, I can’t play around. While they’re trying to get a handle on aiming their radiation laser, I simply fling them low and into the nearest group of allies telekinetically. I begin loosing holy halefire crossbow bolts left and right, peppering and annoying the casters to help break their concentration on their runework. F F S slides across the ceiling from behind me, and drops down atop Magmage. I’m pretty certain I can leave this hallway to Salamanderian now. As long as I take out radiation laser-meister over there. Working an extra T K Square above laser-meister’s hands whenever he tries to raise them, above ally-level, I swoop down and jab Frostburn into his armor, or try to. It’s remarkably resilient. Slashing at it isn’t cutting it, literally.

I swap to a number two, take a deep breath to hold, leap up, and begin exhaling, coming down with all my might and Frostburn gripped tightly at an angle to be my first point of impact. Laser-meister manages to break my T K grip on him at the last second, causing me to only score a glancing blow along his left shoulder-plate. I crater the floor ever so slightly in my adamantite body, but I do not want to see what that radiation does to my metallic form.

Taking a quick breath to hold, I leap to the side, diving into one of the bunk rooms along this hallway. I work to catch my breath while I scrabble along the wall inside the room, as laser-meister swings his beam of light my direction. My brain aches from having one T K grip shattered, but it’s back under my control. I’d better experiment. Conjuring a T K Square flat in front of the laser beam gives me only a second before it shatters under the blast, sending a shearing pain through my skull again. What about angling it? The beam is five feet wide though, I can’t exactly see what angling a single one foot area of it might do, unless I could compress myself into a perfect one foot square area and sneakily fly up the length of the beam. I am not going to try that.

Phew, come on Reggie, think. I mean, spells this powerful tend to have a shorter duration, right? Usually ten minutes, or one minute. I’d have to recast my Steely Body spell again if it’s the former. Ugh, I friggin’ trapped myself, laser-meister is just standing outside the door, waving the beam at slight angles to try to catch me if I were to— what’s this?

Scanning the environment in this room, I notice a peep-hole drilled in the wall of one bunk, revealing that, well, first of all, the bunk-owner is a pervert, but second of all, the wall to the next room is incredibly thin. Only about an inch of stone. I’m in my adamantite body, and my strength is pretty enhanced, on top of my density being increased. Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I try to guess the layout of the next room, trying to make sure I don’t burst through into a heavy footlocker, or a stone shelf, or anything stupid that would slow me down and disorient me. As soon as meister hears the crash, he’s going to step into this room, and pour his laser into it, towards the hole I create.

Okay, deep breath, hold it, angle a T K Square to do an L B B T K S L. Now, start breathing as we’re about to make contact near the ceiling, bring extra T K grips behind you to keep pushing, and keep yourself sailing through the hole! Keep breathing Reggie, now swap back to number three on the Q C R. Dash out the doorway, get at least a quick line of sight on at least a bit of the laser-meister, before he figures out I’ve already made it through the wall, through the room, and out into the hallway, where he could just turn the laser back on me. Yes! Okay, grip him, keep him facing into the room. Dash up, put three telekinetic grips on him because he’s struggling like crazy.

Analyze the armor. Damn it’s high quality and doesn’t leave many gaps. Where the hell can I stab him? Wait. I rip his helmet clean off by gripping it with my adamantite-induced strength. The lucent-scaled, strong-jawed Draconiac eyes me with intense anger at first, a hatred, as he still wishes to kill me. His expression morphs to one of fear as I bring Frostburn down across the side of his neck, slashing it open, then I raise Frostburn’s point, back towards his chin, penetrating it from underneath, his lucent scales beneath his armor match his laser’s glow slightly. His handsome scaled face is permanently etched with fear as I shave off his thread of fate, sending him shuffling off this mortal coil.

Huff. Forty eight more friggin’ mages in the next intersection. F F S is still pounding away at the group of eleven, keeping them battered, finishing them when able, and dueling with Magmage in her human form now, with what little Valkyrie gear could transfer between forms. I levitate a fresh valkyrie suit her way while I dash up the main hallway towards the rest of the enemies awaiting us. Shaylon moves up with me, hanging back and to the side enough that when he activates Aegis, it won’t just bring all the spells straight through me.

Screw it, forty eight mages? If I’m lucky, none of them know eighth circle magic. They’re definitely within a forty meter radius. I’m not even going to make myself break into line of sight of those two hallways. Let’s see how many we can take out with a darkest star before some hope that it’s an illusion, and see through it.

I quicken cast a G S E, calling out, “Darkest Star’s Event Horizon!” to help manifest the power as I intend it. The sphere at its center is a complete absence of light, a true force of graviturgical annihilation. A dozen mages are instantly sucked towards it and spaghettified before being reduced to nothing but dense pinpoints of mass. Shrieks of fear are cut short, incapable of leaving the void that suddenly appears, as walls, door frames, bunks, stone, loose equipment, and more mages are dragged towards its center. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty mages already gone, wrought to condensed base elements.

Thirty, forty, forty four mages slip loose from their mortal coils adrift in the abyss at the center of my magic, compressed into annihilation. The globe of utter darkness, the central, pivotal focus of my spell suddenly winks out, far earlier than it should. It has been hit by a powerful, or lucky, dispellation, by someone who’d seen through it, and sought to save their allies by dispelling the effect. They couldn’t warn their allies, because anyone who didn’t see through the effect was deafened and blinded by the inability for sound or light to travel from them or to them. Still, this means I’m up against either a wily, powerful, or lucky opponent, and three more mages who’d seen through it.

Sixty six S P to shave the force down to one twelfth of its size? Yeah, I’d say that was worth it. Still, casting it again isn’t going to help me here, but if I’m lucky, at least three of them won’t be warded against my telekinetic grips.

Based on the Draconiacs being armored, well-equipped with enchanted armaments, and confident as they start runework on abjurative enchantments, I’m starting to doubt it. When they turn the corner, begin conjuring blades of pure light, pure darkness, and psionic-energy, and head my way, they’re also backed by the approach of the two sleek, slightly older than young-adult, black dragons who’d been guarding the door ahead. Their draconic forms are full, complete, regal and terrifying, but not enough that they could even summon dragonfright without using up far too large a fraction of the entirety of their essence.

I can see the power radiating from them, especially as I crank up my aura vision temporarily to try to figure out what I’m dealing with. Auras of impressive strength, and deadly magic swirl about them like cloaks of darkness. Their blades of radiance, psionics, or darkness are equally impressive, conjured from fabric of fundamental forces of the universe. One glows with a brilliant, overbearing light, so radiant that it would likely burn my eyes if I were to keep them open. Another drips with a dark, inky blackness, a void-like energy that draws my gaze to its absence of light. And the third hums with its powerful psionic force, pulsing with barely contained energy that ripples through the air, hurting my brain to even sense.

They draw nearer, and I can see cruel, merciless looks in their eyes. One of their enchantments is a mark of death that seems to hover around them like a shroud. I’m torn between Wyverium to remain mobile, or Necrometal to protect from the necrotic shroud. They move with speed unsettling for their enchanted plate heavy armor, each step purposeful and deadly. I gulp as I prepare to face them, and face their blades. I hate myself for it a little bit, but I can’t help but feel a shiver of fear run down my spine. These Draconiac death knights, are some sort of sword-sorcerers and they’re powerful as hell.

As they draw closer still, I take a deep breath and ready myself, summoning my will, and steadying my breathing to face them. Up close, I allow myself more moments of letting my eyes open to gaze at what I’m dealing with. Their armor is intricate, heavy plate, a deep, rich black almost like a starless night, similar to Illy’s scales, or skin. I shudder to think what it’s crafted from. The surface of the armor is smooth and unblemished, with no visible seams or joints, as if it were crafted from a single piece of metal. Their chest pieces are adorned with large emblems that I don’t know the significance of. They aren’t showing up as translatable to any specific word, based on my linguistic enhancement enchantment.

I’m almost jealous of how incredibly sturdy and lightweight the armor is. If I didn’t have my own enchanted armors, I would be. Theirs are definitely designed to provide maximum protection without impeding their movements. I dislike that they’re so well outfitted. I’m not the best at dueling. I’ve never been trained in the art of the sword. I’m fairly certain I can dodge, at least if I swap to the Wyverium chestplate, utilizing my silent sonar senses from my danger wraps, but I’m frightened of the power of that necrotic aura. Thankfully, the aura will be providing me a minor defensive benefit as long as I stay equipped with Necrosteel.

As I study the armor more closely, in this last moment as I analyze before we set about our attack, I can see intricate designs etched into the metal, symbols and sigils that do translate. Runes for grip, both keeping, and protecting from. Runes for a lot more things than I can analyze in this split second. I’m going to go ahead and guess I’m not so lucky. I mean, they’re four sorcerous death-knights backed by two acid dragons. Of course they’re acid dragons. Why wouldn’t they be?