The memory bird hopped around in the sand below me. I crouched atop a collapsed column of stone resting sideways on the sand, firming my footing. The sun warmed my skin, and the air smelled of the foul acrid tang of Sandshear blood.

The sand shifted below the memory of the Titan. But the Sandshear didn’t emerge.

[Memory of the Gale Titan, Level 19]

The bird seemed underleveled for its age, though I supposed I didn’t know how fast monsters leveled or how fast they grew.

“Is it going to come back up? Do you remember this?” I asked, looking over at the little bird that was following me through the dungeon. It had alighted atop the column near me, and now managed to stare at the sand with derision, looking down its beak.

The Sandshear shot out of the ground. The memory of the gale Titan prepared to attack it, but I leapt immediately, activating [Death’s Descent.] My sword traced a growing white line through the air, shadowed by black lightning that crackled off the blade.

I cut through chitin like butter.

The monster fell apart, bisected, crackling and spitting and smoking as it rolled into the sand and bled acid.

[You have reached level 22!]

I went from a troop of goblins providing 4 entire levels to a pack of monstrous bigger than men providing two. I breathed a sigh of annoyance, the exhilaration of the fight leaving me almost instantly.

I hadn’t been hunting spirit-beasts in years, especially not any that provided a real danger to me. I had forgotten how much I loved the hunt.

The memory of the bird spun and walked away, plodding through the ruins. With its one broken wing, it spent most of its time walking or gliding short distances.

The memory of the Titan buzzed and flickered as if this chamber was only half remembered. It took a step and reappeared a half dozen steps away.

I started to follow it, but the little-bird jumped between us.

[Spirit of the Storm Titan Dungeon, Level ???]

The bird jumped back and forth, flapping its wings at me. I crouched down, staring at it as it hopped from one leg to the other. The little bird had both wings whole.

“You don’t want me to follow it?” I asked. The bird stopped flapping its wings. I scratched its head.

The little bird slapped my hand away with a wing before strutting past me and then chirping. I turned. It paused and waited for me to follow it out of the ruins. I frowned.

“I want to see what’s at the center.” I said before standing up and following the memory.

Littlebird chirped angrily, following at my side and smacking my leg with its wings. The impacts didn’t hurt. I frowned, wondering if it could stop me if it wanted to. It’s level was question marks, which meant it had to be at least level 70. But it seemed either unwilling or unable.

I smiled at the bird.

“I’m sure it will be fine. At most there will be more Sandshears, yes?”

The little bird chirped angrily, but I followed after the memory.

There was a clear path through the ruins that was well remembered, a place where the way through the sand was clear. Only feet away from the path the world began to dissolve into mud, poorly remembered or impressed.

The ruins grew muddy and distant. I reached a hand out, bringing back a substance like clay, the world deforming at my touch. The bird memory walked into a darkened building, hopping up onto a sand littered stone floor.

I followed slowly, letting my eyes adjust and ensuring that the floor wasn’t prone to collapse anywhere. I didn’t know if there were voids beneath the sand as I had seen in the surrounding rubble.

The floor was firm. Holes in the ceiling allowed in beams of sunlight that revealed a room filled with broken skeletons. Even the bones had been turned to slag in places. Not all of them seemed human.

“What is this…?” I asked. The little bird chirped with unceasing alarm as we walked through a hall. The number of skeletal remains only increased until we rounded a corner.

At the end of a long hall, a white and black flame no larger than a finger danced and sparked. It was remembered so perfectly that everything around it seemed more real to my eye.

It floated over a a dais in a bubble of power, surrounded by a formation of glowing characters which seared the air. They spun slowly around it.

I recognized the room almost exactly. It was exactly like the room that had contained the legacy I inherited. My eyes widened.

Were there more precursor legacies scattered around the continent? Was there one buried beneath the ruins south of Spearpoint?

I had to find out, even if I had to excavate the entire ruin. I wondered if I could import enough silver to make it happen.

I used [Identify] on the spark of power.

[Identify Failed]

Exhileration and dread warred for my attention. [Identify] worked on everything. To outright fail meant that whatever this was, it was incredible.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I stilled myself, bringing my Willpower to bear exactly as I would as if I were cultivating, but focused all of my energy and intent on the activation of the skill. [Identify] resisted.

Stef said that it was important to use the skills with intent in mind. So I intended know what the spark was. The skill bent. The world deformed around it.

[Identify reached level 4!]

The text was green, reflective and chromatic like light shining on oil.

[Spark of Anti-Light(Memory)]

[Tier 1 Powerwell identified.]

[Estimated power contained equivalent to a complete tier, or fifty levels. Consume to absorb levels. Memory projections do not contain the actual power of the powerwell. Estimated power contained: 2%]

The memory of the Titan hadn’t been idle. It crept in this room, seemingly checking the floor for traps, craning its neck around every hall and entrance. Then, finally, it hopped up on the dais.

I looked to the bird. Then to the so called Powerwell.

The memory of the Titan reached to peck at the spark, but the moment I finished reading the text, I was already cycling the movement technique of the Anti-Lightning Herald, arriving in a flash to grab the spark. My hand closed around incorporeal fire, pain ripping through my body exactly as it had when I absorbed the system.

My hand had passed through the sphere containing the flame without issue, and the memory of the Titan did the same now, pecking out a tiny scrap of the immaterial flame.

The dungeon spirit following me squawked in alarm, landing on my shoulder harshly, digging talons into me and flapping its wings to pull me away.

I pushed it back.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, hissing at the pain from the wounds it opened on my shoulder. My eyes widened. The spirit might have been dangerous.

The room shook. It was subtle at first, then it escalted so hard and fast I stumbled on my feet. Red light poured over me from behind, casting my own shadow down the hallway. My shiloutte stretched out in the crimson light.

The spirit of the Titan chirped louder than ever, more panicked than I had seen it.

Then it ran away from me, flying out of the room.

I turned back to the alter. The memory of the Titan rolled around on the ground, black flamed dancing on its skin. I looked at my own hand in alarm. The power burned inside me, but it did not escape.

A great red light burned like fire, flickering and changing. It possessed a depth to it, a hole in reality leading to a sea of crimson power.

I hadn’t been using [Identify] after landing it on a dozen walls that provided no information. Now, I regretted it as I cast it forward into the dark.

[TITAN, LEVEL ???]

----------------------------------------

POPPY VASCARA, The Black Fist of the Frontier

[Gale Titan Memory, Level 34]

An illusory copy of the Gale Titan froze on her fist, veins of black ripping through reality to surround it. The wingspan of the bird was wide enough to cover Poppy’s entire party from the pouring rain of the storm.

Anti-Light stretched through it like a sickness, creeping veins of black power that stretched out before the monster popped, fading into dust that drifted away in the storm’s cutting winds.

Poppy grunted, flicking her wrist to dismiss the dust covering the metal.

Rain slicked her face, mixing with sweat and the blood of a dozen memories, soaking her short cropped hair and dripping away from her face.

Arrows poured over her half as fast as the rain, solid projectiles of black that looked like holes in the world. The flashing lightning did not reflect off their surface.

Copy after copy of the Gale Titan fell from the sky, none of them as potent as those Poppy had slain.

[Memory of the Gale Titan, Level 12]

“How many times do we have to kill this thing!?” Anna shouted to be heard over the wind. Three shiloutted copies of herself danced alongside her, striking down the birds that dived at her with knives and shortswords.

“There has to be an entrance we’re missing.” Poppy shouted, looking around the dungeon chamber with a snarl on her face. The barren mountain peak was bereft of plants, a lifeless landscape scraped clean by wind and storm. She didn’t bother lifting a finger to help her party — she knew they could handle it.

“[Strike Twice!]” Eros shouted. Lightning erupted and arced between the two-dozen birds remaining in the sky, cooking them in an instant.

Thunder boomed across the storm drenched peak as Poppy turned to look back at her party. She had upgraded her armor, and, though the set had been forged in Spearpoint and not by the noble house Vascara, it amplified her new skills better than the old set ever could.

It was pitch black, accented with sharp points on the arms for cutting alongside her enhanced punches.

Poppy wiped the water from her face before pulling her hood back up, using [Identify] on her party.

[Eros, Level 53 Stormwraith Archer]

Eros had been the closest to leveling up again. Almost every pass through the dungeon had rewarded them another level, though they struggled to gain any skills, even with the changes in recent years.

Eros panted, chest heaving under his hood, but he met her inspection with a nod of acknowledgment and a returned look from his remaining eye. His eyepatch was slick with rain.

“How much do you have left in you after that?” Poppy asked.

“I’ll hold up. Let’s get to the next chamber and the hell out of this rain.”

Poppy could hear the strain in Eros’s voice. It was clearly taking a lot out of him.

The exit to the next chamber ripped open with a tear in reality, a glowing portal of prismatic light waiting a few dozen feet away from them.

“We have to be missing the answer to one of the rooms.” Poppy said, still yelling. She rested her hands on her hips, turning about in the rain as if she was going to find a hidden doorway off the side of the mountain.

[Annabelle, Level 53 Voidwalker]

Anna was in a crouch. Her three immaterial copies joined together, linking arms to form a shelter from the rain. She frowned and pouted, working the rain out of her long ponytail.

“You really think we’re going to find it in the middle of the storm?” She shouted as thunder boomed in the sky.

“We must have missed it. It should have been in the first few chambers.”

“Did you hear that?” Eros shouted.

“Hear what?” Poppy shouted back.

“Something cracked!” He shouted. His eyes scanned the barren peaks of distant mountains. They blended together like half drawn paintings, memories the Titan forgot over the course of its centuries long life. “There!”

“I don’t see anything.” Poppy squinted, following his finger. “My perception isn’t as high as yours.”

[Warning: Dungeon Chamber Stability disrupted. Evacuate Chamber immediately.]

Then Poppy saw it. A glowing green crack spread across the sky.

“What in the name of House Vascara is that?” She asked, mouth practically agape.

“I think we should run!” Eros said, not waiting. He shot forward, kicking up mud as he ran to the hovering exit to the room.

As Poppy watched, the green crack in reality began to spread. Her eyes lingered on it.

“Let’s go.” She said to Anna.

The door opened into a chamber they had never seen before. There was no rain, no storm, no wind. The air was calm, almost sterile.

The ground was a streaked mix of terrains from different rooms, all of them familiar and slick with rain. All of them except the streaks of sand that crisscrossed the room. A great white wall rose infinitely upward, stretching in a semi circle around the room.

“Sand?” Eros asked, leaning down and scooping up a handful. “Was there a… beach room? A desert?”

On the other side of the room was an infinite expanse of black. Distant white pillars rose like trees in the void, reaching up into an endless storm stretching across the world. Poppy blinked. Staring at it hurt. She had to exert her Willpower to force her head away.

“What the hell is this?” Eros asked.

“The dungeon is breaking.” Poppy said. “It’s too soon. It shouldn’t happen yet. This is supposed to happen when its been drained of its power.”

Doors to other chambers of the dungeon were ripping open all over the room. Some seemed less stable than others, warping and warbling.

Poppy turned in time to see a new party of two stepping into the room.

“Who are you?” Poppy asked.