Nalia’s POV

Earlier in the day

"Well, that was a breeze," Ragnor declared, stretching his arms and cracking his neck as he sauntered alongside Nalia. A hint of pride colored his voice as he reminisced, "That third-layer Guardian was tough, but we handled it. I bet we could've tackled the fourth."

"It wasn't a walk in the park," Soren interjected, his voice heavy with a sigh. He clicked his tongue, casting a backward glance at the two men trailing behind, their clothes tattered and torn. "We nearly lost two of our best fighters."

"Who needs weaklings, anyway?" Ragnor's shrug was dismissive, his confidence unshaken. "We'd have cleared that dungeon with or without them."

Soren's teeth clenched at Ragnor's callous words, his frustration palpable. "You're worse than a beast."

Amidst the familiar quarrel, Nalia rolled her eyes, her tone laced with pragmatism. "We wouldn't have stood a chance on the fourth layer, not without bracing for serious losses." A smile then played on her lips as she added, "First, we need to gather some items."

"Why didn't we bring them from the start?" Ragnor raised an eyebrow, his tone a mix of curiosity and reproach. "Odd, considering your usual meticulousness."

"We don't have the skills to make them," Nalia replied with a casual shrug, her gaze drifting towards the direwolves and kobolds escorting them from a distance. "But they certainly do."

Ragnor's grin was quick and mischievous. "You should've mentioned it sooner. I'd have stormed their stronghold like before and seized what we needed."

"I know your heart is as hard as stone, but must your mind be equally dense?" Soren's eyebrow arched in clear annoyance. "They can hear every word we're saying, and for the moment, they're our allies. Have you lost your senses?"

"Partners in name only," Ragnor retorted with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze shifting to Nalia, tinged with irritation. "And why exactly did we broker a deal with them? Do we really need these dungeons that desperately? We're strong enough to conquer everything on our own."

"You're mistaken," Nalia replied, her tone icy, her demeanor unyielding. "I might be strong, but you are far from it."

Ragnor's pride was deeply wounded by her words. His teeth gritted, he muttered bitterly under his breath, "You witch..."

Yet his insult was not as quiet as he hoped. Soren fixed him with a chilling stare, his threat unambiguous. "Choose your words wisely, unless you wish to part with your head this instant."

Nalia, unfazed by Ragnor's comment, continued as though she hadn't heard a thing. "As for the dungeons, our equipment is woefully inadequate. We need them, without doubt."

A hush fell over the group following her declaration, broken only when Soren ventured a cautious question. "My lady, you've had dealings with that Monster King, Thorian, or whatever his name is. How strong is he?" His voice lowered, shadowed by the memory of their earlier encounter. "The aura he radiated, the intensity of his magic... He did seem formidable."

Nalia's gaze lowered, a playful hum escaping her lips as she pondered. Then, with a hint of mystery, she replied, “I can't claim to fully understand his power, but he's definitely capable of ending both of you in under ten seconds.”

“What?!” Ragnor’s outburst was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone around. The shock was evident in his voice, his disbelief overshadowing any concern for the stares he received. “Tha-that’s impossible.”

Soren's reaction was more subdued, his face clouding with a sense of defeat. “So, even with all our strength, we are still so vulnerable. It's a hard reality to accept.”

“Then acceptance is what you must learn,” Nalia said with a light laugh, a note of wisdom in her voice. “There are countless beings in this world who could take your life as an afterthought, never even recognizing your existence.”

Her voice faded, a distant look in her eyes as she was momentarily lost in memories best left forgotten.

In the heavy silence that enveloped them, Soren broke the stillness. “And what about you, my lady? You could defeat him, couldn’t you?”

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Her chuckle was confident, yet tinged with a hint of solemnity. “I suppose I could, but not without significant sacrifice. A peaceful coexistence would be ideal for both parties, though I’m uncertain if that’s a feasible path.”

Soren took a moment to process her words, then ventured, “If peaceful coexistence isn’t possible, you’d have to resort to that particular skill, right? But wouldn’t that put us in a precarious situation afterwards?”

“It would,” Nalia agreed with a nod, her eyes meeting Soren's with a chilling smile. “That’s precisely why we’re working on our contingency plan.”

Soren's face held a somber cast as he murmured softly, his voice barely audible, "Yes, there's always that option..."

"What?" Nalia's lips quirked up in a playful yet probing smile. "Do you disapprove of the plan, Soren?"

"I can't say I'm thrilled about it," Soren replied, his voice carrying a weight of resignation. "But I do recognize its necessity."

Ragnor, ever brash, clicked his tongue at Soren's measured response. "You're too soft. That mindset of yours will be the death of you, and it won’t be a noble end."

Nalia, her gaze locked with Soren's, let out a soft chuckle before redirecting her attention forward. Her eyes swept over their surroundings, observing the escorts meticulously monitoring their every move, jotting down their actions.

In her mind, thoughts swirled around Thorian. Who were you before all this, Thorian? she pondered. To command such discipline from mere monsters, you must have been a significant figure in the kingdom.

The name Thorian echoed in her mind, striking a chord of familiarity. Suddenly, her expression shifted, a sly smile emerging. Could it be? Thorian Steelblade, the lion of the lowlands?

For a moment, she was consumed by the image of the legendary flame lord, renowned for setting battlefields ablaze with his fearsome inferno. But then she shook her head, dismissing the notion with a chuckle. Impossible. Thorian Steelblade's stronghold is in the south. This must be a coincidence of names.

With these thoughts, the party, guided by the kobolds, direwolves, and Elder Oom, continued their journey out of the forest. Entering Locksley through the Western Gate, they passed the very building Thorian had once used to access the subterranean tunnels.

"Should we venture into the abyss as well?" Soren inquired. His tone suggested genuine curiosity, tempered with a hint of caution. "If the monsters show such interest in it, it must hold considerable value."

"It does," Nalia confirmed with a nod, her expression serious. "But as it stands, everyone here is too underprepared for the level I aim to conquer. We need the entire party outfitted with Yellow Storm gear before we can truly take on that challenge."

"And how long do you anticipate that will take, my lady?" Soren's eyebrow lifted, a mix of curiosity and concern in his query.

"Depends on our fortune," Nalia replied with a casual shrug. "But with a favorable wind at our backs, three days should suffice."

"I understand," Soren acknowledged, nodding. "Then, we will take on the abyss after that preparation."

"We could attempt a partial run," Nalia conceded thoughtfully. "The experience gained would definitely aid in tackling the fourth layer of the Verdant Labyrinth and the second layer of the Thunderous Citadel more swiftly. But to reach the specific floor we're targeting requires that much time and preparation."

Changing the topic abruptly, Nalia inquired, "But let's set aside the abyss for now. Are the sacrifices prepared for the ritual?"

Soren swallowed, a hint of unease in his voice as he confirmed, "Yes, they are ready, my lady."

"Excellent," Nalia's smile was one of satisfaction. "Then we shall commence immediately."

"Are we heading to that chamber again?" Ragnor's tone held clear distaste. "I really don't like that place. It's repulsive."

"If you prefer, you may abstain from attending," Nalia replied with an indifferent shrug, then turned to address the group. "Now, let's cease the dawdling and proceed."

Accompanied by long, heavy sighs from both Soren and Ragnor, the trio navigated their way through the bustling streets of the city. They traversed the inner wall, eventually arriving at the imposing edifice of the Strongheart Manor.

Their entrance through the manor's backdoor went unchallenged. The guards stationed there merely bowed in silent acknowledgment as the trio passed, a testament to their familiarity or the trio's authority.

Inside the manor, a stark contrast awaited them. The opulence of the manor gave way to a dungeon, its atmosphere laden with despair. The cells were filled with captives — children's cries and women's wails echoing off the stone walls. As they walked past, men clung to the bars, their pleas for freedom filled with desperation.

Nalia and Ragnor moved through this corridor of misery without a second glance, their focus unwavering. Soren, however, found himself casting furtive, pained looks at the prisoners, his lips pressed tightly together in a silent struggle with his conscience.

The dungeon led them to a grand chamber, a place where the air itself seemed thick with dark, arcane energy. At its heart stood a grotesque entity — an amalgamation of flesh and otherworldly power. It was a creature of incomplete form, faceless yet bearing thousands of visages upon its twisted flesh. These faces, marked by expressions of grief, anger, and despair, were trapped in eternal silence, unable to scream.

Nalia looked upon this aberration with a smile of grim satisfaction. "There it is," she declared, her voice tinged with a chilling anticipation. "Our dear contingency plan."