ON THE MORROW, our esteemed "elite team" found themselves standing solitary amidst a valley strewn with the smoldering remnants of daemonic creatures. It was from this very place that our journey was to commence, leading us further up the valley in search of the fabled nest.
"We must remain vigilant, for the daemons may yet spring an ambush upon us. Be ever watchful, my comrades," cautioned Petr, his voice laced with authority.
"Understood," came the unified response, each member of our band acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
Petr and Gunther huddled together, their minds engaged in a discussion regarding the optimal formation for our ascent up the treacherous valley. Meanwhile, I took it upon myself to carefully select the spells that held the promise of aiding us on our perilous path, casting them with practiced precision.
"By the invocation of this incantation, all allies within a three-meter radius of my person shall be transported beyond the bounds of the Material plane. We shall traverse the planes," I declared, the arcane words resonating with power.
Through the sheer might of the spell, the six of us were displaced into a dimension separate from, yet parallel to, the realm of normal space. From this new vantage point, our surroundings took on a mesmerizing distortion—a bluish tinge permeated our vision, and the world seemed to sway gently, akin to observing the exterior from within the confines of an ethereal aquarium. To those observing from the Material plane, we would have vanished without a trace.
In this spectral plane, we found solace from the nefarious fiends and any other malevolent forces seeking to beset us. We were, for all intents and purposes, rendered invisible by conventional means. However, a notable drawback lay in our inability to interact or exert influence upon the Material plane while dwelling in this spectral realm. Yet, this restriction worked both ways—a physical barrier could be traversed effortlessly by transitioning to the spectral plane, offering us a significant advantage. Furthermore, as long as the spell's effects persisted, we retained the freedom to shift seamlessly between the spectral and Material planes.
Nevertheless, the warping and discoloration served as a constant reminder of the limitations imposed upon our perception of the real world from this spectral vantage point. Sounds and scents were elusive, frustratingly distant.
Petr, in his characteristic sardonic tone, muttered, "Seems like you possess no boundaries, huh?" Eryn, her anger palpable, surveyed the spectral plane with a stern gaze.
Gilbert, however, stood in naked astonishment, awestruck by the spectacle unfolding before him. Gunther, his countenance drained of color, stammered, "Lord Xandros... Are you a deity in mortal guise?"
Linden turned her eyes upward, fixing me with an inquisitive gaze. "My lord, are you not an angelic emissary of Astradia, the protector?"
I implored Linden silently not to prostrate herself before me. "What absurdity is this? I am no deity," I protested, my voice betraying a hint of flustered panic. The notion of being revered as a god surpassed any expectation I had ever held. Though Ember's prowess, strictly speaking, soared to heights capable of undertaking quests within T&T that might elevate one's character to godlike status, it is crucial to remember that at my core, I remained an ordinary human being.
"My encounters with the immortal realm are rare and infrequent. If my magic appears godlike to you, perchance your faith has veered toward excessive fervor," I retorted, my words tumbling forth in a frantic scramble. Truth be told, I struggled to grasp the meaning behind my own utterances. Fortunately, Petr and Eryn, displaying their characteristic skepticism, rolled their eyes at my expense, alleviating some of the weight that burdened me.
Let me reiterate—my powers are far from the omnipotence associated with the divine. Although my spells possess formidable might, as a practitioner of the arcane, I am plagued by numerous vulnerabilities. One such weakness lies in the limitations imposed upon the number of spells I can prepare each day. Allow me to provide a breakdown of the ninth-level spells I had readied on that momentous day.
NINTH LEVEL SPELLS
Spell Name - Remaining Uses / Total ChargedMeteor Storm - 2 / 2Complete Recovery - 1 / 1Time Stop - 1 / 1Summon Monster: Any - 1 / 1Word of Death - 1 / 1Chaotic Wall - 1 / Planeshift - 0 / 1Invincibility - 0 / 1
A magic user's capacity to ready spells of each level expands as their proficiency grows. In my case, I could prepare nine spells per rank. However, any spell that had exhausted its uses for the day could no longer be cast. (I had cast Invincibility upon myself prior to our departure.) Naturally, I had readied an assortment of spells for ranks one through eight, each comprising nine charges, but delving into their exhaustive details shall be spared for now.
If I possessed additional slots for charging, I would have undoubtedly allocated another to Complete Recovery. Alas, as I have mentioned on countless occasions, the constraints of a T&T mage entail a limited arsenal.
"Well then, shall we proceed?" I urged the group onward, mindful that the effects of planeshift were not everlasting.
Petr assumed the lead as we forged ahead, progressing further into the valley. To our surprise, the valley proved to be a labyrinthine network of twisting passages. At each junction, Petr meticulously examined our surroundings, deftly discerning the remnants left behind by the daemonic horde's passage. Despite the dulled senses plaguing us in the spectral plane, Petr displayed an uncanny ability to detect footprints and stray hairs. I couldn't help but be awed by his tracking prowess.
Thanks to Petr's expertise, we located the fiends' stronghold a mere two hours after setting out. "There's a Dreadbeast..." he warned.
We stood at the valley's deepest recess, a space roughly the size of a baseball field, encircled by towering cliffs. A colossal Dreadbeast, resembling an elephant in size, loomed nearby, standing four meters tall and stretching five meters in length. It was surrounded by a swarm of curselings.
The curselings appeared to be feeding the Dreadbeast, offering up a boar-like creature. Fortunately, ensconced within the outer plane, our presence remained concealed from the fiends. The Dreadbeast carelessly seized the boar from the curselings and tore into its head. Behind it loomed an imposing stone door, resembling a lid sealing off the valley's deepest recess. The space beyond that door appeared vast enough to accommodate even the Dreadbeast's colossal frame.
"The nest must lie beyond that door," Petr asserted.
"Almost certainly," Gunther concurred.
Though the door possessed a simple structure, it was adorned with unsettling symbols reminiscent of avant-garde abstract art.
"So, the plan is to vanquish the Dreadbeast and then surge through the door, correct?" Gilbert inquired.
"That is the plan, but I believe it would be best if I take the lead," I responded.
"You're right."
Oh? I had anticipated Gilbert's eagerness to charge ahead, yet it seemed he had already begun to display signs of growth.
"Before we proceed any further, let us first ascertain what lies concealed behind that door," I suggested, withdrawing a scroll from my bag. Eryn examined it intently before turning to me with a perplexed expression.
"It appears...blank, does it not?" she remarked, her confusion apparent.
"Well, at present it is, but...just observe," I replied cryptically, placing the blank scroll upon the ground and unfurling it before our eyes.
"Oh? I see something!" Gilbert exclaimed.
"Could this be...a map?" Gunther questioned, his discerning eye recognizing the nature of the object in question.
Indeed, Gunther's astute observation was correct. The scroll served as a magical artifact known as a Dungeon Map. Ordinarily, it remained void of any markings, but once unfurled within the proximity of a dungeon, it would autonomously generate a map detailing the labyrinthine structure. In a traditional tabletop role-playing game, such a map would be sufficient for charting our progress on graph paper as we ventured forth. However, the circumstances called for a more immediate method.
"As I suspected," Petr interjected, his voice laden with certainty. "There lies a subterranean passage beyond that door." He stood engrossed in the unfolding details of the map, gradually revealing itself through its mystical properties.
"This nest serves as the birthplace of Dreadbeasts. By following the path wide enough to accommodate their colossal frames, we should be led directly to the heart of the nest... here," Petr declared, pointing to a corner of the map. It depicted a vast chamber nestled deep underground, precisely as he had foreseen. A broad trail extended from this chamber, ultimately connecting to the door.
"It appears there are additional branching paths and smaller chambers," Eryn noted. "I wonder if any of them offer alternative routes..."
"Alas, they seem narrow, too restricted even for a Netherhulk, let alone a Dreadbeast," Petr remarked sagely.
Fortunate, I mused inwardly. If there had been numerous wide-ranging paths to consider, we would have been compelled to seal each one off diligently.
"I propose we make our entry at this location," I declared, pointing to a spot on the map.
Despite our ability to traverse physical barriers using the outer plane, we could not disregard the dungeon's layout entirely. Deep within the earth, devoid of clear sightlines, it would be all too easy for us to lose one another or lose our bearings on the map. Merely passing through walls would serve no purpose if we failed to reach our intended destination.
"To cast another spell, we must first exit the spectral plane," I explained. "While we are outside, I will require your protection."
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"Very well! You can count on me, Lord Xandros!" Gilbert responded eagerly.
"I will ensure your safety," Linden vowed.
The Adamant siblings positioned themselves enthusiastically in front of me, while Petr and the others assumed defensive formations behind.
"I possess a defensive incantation, Protego Scutum, capable of warding off an attack from that dreadbeast, at least temporarily," Eryn announced, her staff poised and ready. Her blue eyes shimmered with excitement, the vibrant energy within her palpable.
Once again, I marveled at the boundless enthusiasm exhibited by both Eryn and Linden, even amidst the grim and perilous circumstances. These two women radiated such effervescence and zest for life that it was almost overwhelming for someone like me, burdened by the weight of years...
"Well then, let us return to the material plane."
Rather than appearing in the midst of the clearing, we materialized in the shadow of a boulder near the entrance. As we departed the spectral plane, the noxious stench of the fiend, previously blocked by the spell's effects, assailed our senses.
While I endured the repugnant odor, I cast the sixth-level spell.
"By the invocation of this spell, I shall bring death upon the living within my line of sight, within an area spanning eighty-one square meters, up to a cumulative level of thirty-two. Death!"
Silence enveloped the surroundings. Even after completing the incantation, there appeared to be no immediate change in the Dreadbeast or the curselings surrounding it. The Dreadbeast retained its firm grip on the boar it had been devouring. I sensed the nervous tension permeating through the ranks of the knights, but I could also perceive the arcane energy unfurling within the world, the essence of death itself, enveloping the Dreadbeast and the curselings in its frigid embrace.
A second passed.
Then, a transformation began.
"Gi...?"
The Dreadbeast's body went limp. It released its hold on the boar, and with its tongue lolling from its mouth, the Dreadbeast collapsed to the ground. It seemed as though everything was transpiring in slow motion. Upon closer inspection, several curselings had also fallen.
"Gweh?!"
"Gyaahh!"
"Grrr! Gyu!"
The lifeless Dreadbeast lay motionless on the ground, devoid of any signs of movement. Death was a spell capable of extinguishing any number of monsters within a designated area, up to a cumulative level. As per the rules of the T&T game system, all targets had a chance to make a saving throw—if successful, the spell would have no effect whatsoever. I had concerns about this technicality potentially posing a problem, but it appeared the spell had functioned flawlessly.
"Did... Did it perish?" a voice quivered.
"All you did was stare at it..." another remarked.
While the exact sequence of events wasn't accurately described, correcting anyone's perception of the situation was a matter for another time. The surviving curselings, very much alive and aware, had detected our presence.
"Gigyah! Gaah!"
"Gyaar!!!"
Armed with primitive axes and spears, the curselings charged forth, their icy hatred sending a shiver down my spine. Their eyes gleamed with malevolence, radiating a gruesome malice. As I initiated the casting of my next spell, the sound of Petr's released arrow reached my ears.
"Gyah?!"
The curseling leading the charge stumbled backward, pierced by an arrow through its chest.
"Ignis Sagitta!" Eryn chanted.
From her staff, she unleashed ten fiery arrows, engulfing the imps in a blaze one after another. As I witnessed their bodies succumb to the flames, memories of the first time I witnessed Karyon employing his ice arrows flooded my mind. Weaver magic excelled in its swift execution, as its incantations demanded minimal time to complete. Should a mage find themselves facing a weaver without the luxury of preparation, victory would be nigh impossible.
"Very well," Gilbert bellowed. "Come at me!"
"I shall not allow you to lay a finger upon Lord Xandros!" Linden proclaimed.
The Adamant siblings and Gunther took up their shields, forming a defensive line before me. However, before the curselings could reach them, I completed the incantation of my spell.
"By the invocation of this spell, I shall bring under my dominion the deceased in my vicinity, raising them as zombies, up to a cumulative level of thirty-six. Control Undead."
I believe you can visualize the scene: Control Undead, the epitome of necromantic arts. A false semblance of life infused the Dreadbeast and several fallen curselings, resurrecting them as obedient zombies.
"Grooo..."
As Death leaves no visible wounds upon its targets, the undead Dreadbeast and curselings appeared no different from before. However, as the Dreadbeast swung its colossal limbs, it focused its assault upon the living curselings rather than us.
"Gyah! Gu-gyah!"
"Groooo!"
The zombified Dreadbeast and curselings clashed with the surviving curselings in a scene evocative of the depths of hell. Evidently, their insatiable desire to slay humans superseded any concern for self-preservation or the erratic undead. The living curselings paid no heed to the onslaught of my risen minions, relentlessly charging towards us. Yet, the Dreadbeast sent most of them flying, while Petr picked off the few that managed to slip past our formidable undead guard with his well-aimed arrows.
"This is madness. It's akin to a nightmare," Gilbert muttered.
His sentiment resonated with me deeply.
Within a span of mere minutes, all the sane fiends (if any fiends could be deemed sane) met their demise. The zombified curselings had fallen in the process, but the Dreadbeast zombie persisted, its strength unyielding. With the guards eliminated, the time had come for us to seize the opportunity and charge forth.
"By the invocation of this spell, one target shall be reduced to naught. Disintegrate!"
"What now?!" someone exclaimed.
"The gate!" another responded.
The colossal stone door crumbled into dust.
Disintegrate, a spell capable of dismantling both organic and inorganic matter at the molecular level, had performed its duty. Once the debris settled, a cavernous opening lay revealed before us, its depths shrouded in darkness.
With Planeshift at our disposal, gaining entry posed no challenge. However, now that we possessed a dreadbeast zombie, I yearned to make effective use of it.
"Go. Slay all the fiends within," I commanded.
"Guuu."
Obediently, the dreadbeast zombie lumbered its way into the cave, trudging over the remnants of the gate. The knights watched in astonishment, their mouths agape.
Wait a minute.
Couldn't I have instructed our zombie to open the gate instead of obliterating it?
"Errm... Eherm," I cleared my throat, aware of Petr and Eryn's scrutinizing gazes piercing through me. The sting of their scrutiny was undeniable.
"Well then, shall we proceed?" I forged ahead, hoping my words conveyed a confidence I did not entirely possess.
"Wait a minute—Xandros!" Eryn interjected.
So, my pitiful attempt at deception fails to deceive seasoned adventurers, I mused inwardly, as Eryn caught hold of my robe just as I was about to depart.
"I thought it wiser to leave the door intact," Petr remarked, a hint of a sarcastic smile adorning his face. "Couldn't we have simply passed through the door using the spectral plane? Or am I overlooking something?"
"No... you're absolutely correct," I acknowledged.
The echoes of the dreadbeast zombie's rampage below reached our ears. However, with the door obliterated, the likelihood of a netherhulk or another dreadbeast escaping increased significantly.
"I apologize," I turned to address the group. "My lapse in judgment led to this oversight. I allowed myself to become carried away."
"Petr, what are you doing?" Gilbert hissed, casting a nervous glance towards me.
"L-Lord Xandros..." Linden's voice quivered with unease.
Are they afraid I'm furious? I pondered. Petr's point held utmost validity. I had undeniably made a mistake. There was no reason for me to be angry.
"You have no need to apologize," Petr assured me.
"More importantly, what shall we do about that opening?" Eryn interjected. "I could employ my weaving to collapse the ceiling and seal it off, but..."
Petr and Eryn swiftly shifted their attention, seeking a resolution. While Eryn possessed the capability to accomplish the task through her weaving, it would undoubtedly deplete a significant portion of her mana reserves.
"I shall handle the sealing," I declared.
The earth trembled, accompanied by a resounding rumble. A gray wall emerged from the ground, erecting itself to block the entrance. This stone barrier, aptly named the Wall of Stone, formed an almost impenetrable seal over the cave's access point. Though not entirely impervious to air or water, the wall stood as a formidable obstacle, effectively preventing any fiends from breaking free—so long as it endured. Naturally, our passage through the wall posed no hindrance with Planeshift at our disposal.
"You truly possess an astonishing array of magical abilities," Petr remarked. "However, it is not without its concerns..."
"He's right, Xandros," Eryn interjected. "We rely on you to dismantle the daemons' nest. It wouldn't be wise to squander your magical resources when we have alternative options."
While I appreciated the concern expressed by Petr and Eryn, the magic system I employed operated on a different premise than conventional mana reserves. "I still possess an abundance of spells at my disposal. Utilizing a few in this manner will not hinder our ability to annihilate the nest when the time comes," I assured them.
"If you say so, I shall not doubt you," Petr conceded.
"Personally, it's difficult for me to fathom," Eryn confessed. "Regardless, even if that is indeed the case, please refrain from wasting your magic needlessly."
With the issue of the open cave entrance resolved, we transitioned back into the spectral plane, traversed the stone wall, and continued our descent along the subterranean path.
Under normal circumstances, the surroundings would be cloaked in impenetrable darkness. However, existing within the outer plane granted us the advantage of perceiving the cave's interior bathed in a soft, ethereal blue glow. Nevertheless, to enhance our visibility, I cast the Light spell upon my Staff.
"The dreadbeast is still locked in combat!" Gilbert exclaimed.
Beneath the earth's surface, the zombified dreadbeast clashed with several other fiends, locked in the throes of a deadly struggle. Netherhulks leaped onto the dreadbeast's back, thrusting their blades into its lifeless flesh, while countless curselings swarmed at its feet.
"Grooo!"
"Gyaaw!"
The dreadbeast zombie reached upward, grasping a netherhulk that clung to the back of its neck. With a powerful fling, it slammed the netherhulk against the wall, resulting in a gruesome explosion of blood and viscera. New netherhulks promptly replaced the fallen, resuming their relentless assault with swords and clubs.
"Grrrooo..."
Dreadbeasts were not known for their agility, and its state of zombification further hampered its movements. While the curselings posed little threat, the repeated onslaught from the netherhulks undeniably began to take its toll. Although it would have been convenient for the dreadbeast to eradicate all the fiends on our behalf, the world rarely presents such effortless solutions.
The very creature the fiends had intended to utilize as the centerpiece of their forthcoming attack now hurtled towards them. The gate leading to their lair had been shattered, replaced by an imposing stone barrier. Even the fiends, regardless of their relentless determination, found themselves thrown into disarray—netherhulks and curselings alike. As we passed by, we observed them closely, yet remained safely out of their reach within the spectral plane.
"So... it appears the fiends possess a certain degree of culture," Eryn whispered.
As we ventured through the fiends' stronghold, we encountered peculiar paintings adorning the walls. To me, they appeared as nothing more than colorful swirls, though one could argue their classification as art. There were also objects scattered across the ground resembling board games.
"Well... if one could deem it as such," Petr remarked, gesturing towards a spot where the game pieces were crafted—right alongside a pile of human remains.
Someone gagged. Gilbert cursed, and Gunther invoked the name of the creator-god Rivonus, offering a prayer for the departed souls.
This would not be the last encounter with the fiends' artwork and playthings. Among the various "source materials" for these items, an unsettling realization dawned upon me—the remnants of Karyon's bandit group had met such a twisted fate.
It occurred to me that one of the reasons the bandits had suddenly grown more aggressive in extorting those who passed through their territory might have been their realization of the gathering fiends. Perhaps they intended to seize as much as possible before making their escape.
My own revulsion threatened to overpower me, the palpable knot of the fiends' cold hatred coiling within my stomach. I fought against the urge to vomit. Despite inheriting the Strength and Constitution of my T&T character, none of it served to fortify my spirit. Any mental or spiritual resilience I may have possessed had likely withered over the course of my comfortable existence.
"You damned fiends," Gilbert muttered through gritted teeth. "You will regret underestimating us humans. I will ensure you pay the price."
His voice carried a burning anger, and the fervor of his words thawed my frozen soul. I could not allow my spirit to fracture, not here.
"We take a right turn here," Petr suddenly announced.
"Thank you," I nearly breathed. "I almost missed that."
Although we followed the widest path from the entrance towards the depths of the fiends' lair, as indicated by the Dungeon Map, our journey entailed numerous twists and descents down multiple flights of stairs.
Despite knowing precisely which way to proceed and having a general understanding of the base's layout and our destination, the interior itself remained shrouded in dim lighting. Sparse torches, scattered here and there at junctions, fought against the encroaching darkness. In addition to the ominous paintings and scattered human remains, the air hung heavy with the presence of fiends and their malevolence. Without Petr's constant reminders to stay on the designated path, I would have easily lost my way.
I had entertained the idea of venturing into this place alone, all in the name of minimizing casualties. But as I stood there, in the presence of my companions, I couldn't help but question whether I would have been able to make it this far on my own.
"Our destination lies ahead," Petr announced, coming to a halt at the end of the path. The fiends' lair sprawled out before us, revealing a vast chamber with a domed roof.
As I surveyed the room, I realized that it took the shape of a flat-bottomed sphere. The entrance didn't align with the floor but rather with the center of the sphere. Stairs, crafted from immense stone, ascended from the floor towards the opening in the wall.
"So, we've finally arrived," I murmured. "Wait, is that...?!"
Although I knew we were safe within the spectral plane, I couldn't help but fall into stunned silence as my gaze fell upon the fiends' nest.
"How horrifying..."
"What in the world is that?"
The nest itself consisted of a series of blood-red, spherical masses—or at least, that's the closest description I can offer. There were five clusters of goo, each one the size of a dreadbeast, measuring around five meters in diameter. The shapes twisted and overlapped, creating a nightmarish sight. Based on the explanations I had received thus far, I had imagined the nest to be a living, pulsating entity. But witnessing it firsthand, it appeared unexpectedly inorganic.
Around the nest, I could discern the lurking shadows of numerous fiends.
"Is something emerging from it?" I asked, unable to tear my gaze away.
At the point where the nest touched the ground, a portion of the mass swelled up—then a protrusion burst forth. Initially, I mistook it for some kind of pole, but then the end split into five distinct fingers, and I realized I was witnessing a hand. The twisted shoulder, contorted head, and robust torso followed suit, as if I were witnessing a grotesque mockery of a cheap game show act—a contestant struggling to break through a flimsy rubber sheet. Finally, the fingers tore through, accompanied by a repulsive, slimy sound, and a dreadbeast tumbled out of the nest. The ruptured film promptly absorbed back into the mass.
Even Petr's voice wavered with trepidation. "So, this... this is a fiend's nest..."