Roland was buried alive. His mind went into a panicked frenzy. Desperation yielding no moment to thought. He clawed at the soil around him with such violence that it tore the skin from his hands and decorated his arms in lacerations. He wriggled through the dirt like an earthworm, shifting every which way to put the soil above him below.
Along the way Roland ran out of air. He died. He was certain of it. He knew the feeling well, he’d been through it before; it was etched into his soul. Though this time, he remained grounded in this reality, stuck to a corpse fueled and animated by an unknown power. A power that streamed through him, an energy in the purest sense, mutable to any form he needed of it. He pulled on it, calling out to it to keep him alive, and it did. But it wouldn’t last forever. He had to get out of here, and fast.
With a tremendous roar which his lungs bore no air to convey, Roland changed the course of the energy within him, pulling it from his heart and mind and forcing it into his limbs
The ground shifted as thousands of pounds of soil were displaced around him. Roland’s muscles bulged. Flesh and bone were pushed to their limits, and then pushed farther. They stretched and bent beyond their limits, forcing Roland to expend precious energy reinforcing them. Like a sinking ship full of holes, it was all Roland could manage to patch up enough to remain afloat.
Slowly though, he did make progress. Bit by bit the ground above him was shifted below as he ascended with an improvised mix of wiggling, crawling, and climbing. It was an arduous, torturous process. The weight of the earth was upon him, and although a mysterious power kept him from dying, he still experienced all of the pain that came with suffocation and his invulnerability would not last forever.
Roland could feel the energy within him depleting. Rapidly. Within him he had to fight the instinct to stop, to conserve this energy, to curl up and prolong the grip of death tugging him under. He fought with all the will his logical mind could muster.
He had to keep going. To keep moving. It was the only way. To give up was to die.
To give up was to die. Roland repeated it in his head. Over and over again. In time, even his magic powered mind began to grow fuzzy. To give up was to die. It was his mantra. The only thing that stood between him and the grim reaper.
How long this went on, he couldn’t say. His perception of time only returned when his hand broke through the surface and air came rushing in.
Roland reached his hand wildly around the surface, eventually finding enough of a purchase to drag himself out from his grave. The earth cracked open like a hatching egg and Roland’s head at last burst through into the open air.
At first, there was nothing but the sweet feeling of relief, then the stench of iron, then the pain. It felt as if every bone was broken, every inch of skin burned and torn. Only one eye provided a sorry excuse for any vision, and he was vaguely aware that it wasn't fully set in its socket.
He was a corpse. One mutilated beyond recognition. His skin was charred black, living flesh only visible through deep cracks that patterned his skin where blood and puss leaked out. In the middle of his chest was a softball sized hole where he could see a mangled heart more spasming than beating. All over his chest dried blood decorated the wound, but in a strange transformation that looked like a video played in reverse, the blood reliquified and flowed back into him.
A moment later, Roland lost consciousness.
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Alicia loathed traveling through the Vencian jungle. She hated the ruthless and rugged terrain. She hated the hurricanes, and the thunderstorms, and the unending rain. She hated the poisonous plants, and the mud, and the thick canopy that blotted out the sun. What she hated most of all however, were the insects. They buzzed incessantly in her ears and attacked even the most miniscule patch of exposed skin.
A slap sounded out as she swatted a mosquito on her cheek. She channeled her mana into the blood. Feeling it easily succumb and burn before her. Weak. Terribly weak.
It was a sign that there were no creatures nearby of any notable strength. Was that good or bad? Her thoughts were uncertain. On the surface it seemed good. The Vencian Jungle was a terribly dangerous place, packed with monsters, plants, and environmental hazards that could unexpectedly kill even the most seasoned travelers. And this eerie calm had made the last day of their journey a breeze.
Still, the pit in her stomach only continued to worsen. There was a reason this place still remained untamed, even with the heart of human civilization so close by. Like a calm before the storm, Alicia knew that something big was coming. The creatures of the jungle knew something that they didn’t, and they were avoiding this area.
“Gods I hate this jungle. You know, I searched for a guardian team in Vencia specifically to avoid this sort of place.” Alicia said.
She spoke to the member of her Guardian team she was traveling with, Badar. He was the only scout who remained in their party after they’d voted to move on to dungeon questing. She hoped he too would decide to leave once they reached Tarrin Town.
Badar wasn't a typical scout. Unlike most who joined the guild in his role, he was one of the few who chose to stick with it beyond his novice years, even making it his lifelong career. A decision which was well reflected in the seriousness of his equipment.
From head to toe, everything Bagar wore was carefully selected for his particular needs and crafted from the highest quality materials his money could buy.
"Vencia is a strange place to look for work if you wanted to avoid the tropics." Badar answered.
"Yeah, well. I was young and foolish and dreamed of a cushy job escorting young lords and ladies of the academy." Alicia said with a thick layer of sarcasm.
Alicia was skilled enough and privileged enough to attain such a position, she came from nobility herself after all, but her character wasn’t suited to be satisfied with such a cushy job and everyone on her team knew it. She had ambition. She had drive.
Vencia was the unofficial capital of the human world. Alicia thought that would mean it would be a congregation zone for the world’s most elite Guardians, especially with the untamed Vencian jungle so close by.
As it turned out, that wasn’t the case. There simply wasn’t the work to demand such capable individuals.
That didn’t mean there were none around. Quite the opposite in fact. They were everywhere, just not doing anything that Alicia had any interest in. Alicia needed combat experience, and all these elites were lazing around as bodyguards or instructors. High level fights never broke out within the city, it was a social and cultural norm to refrain from such barbarity, and these elites who were only here to collect a hefty paycheck were all too happy to follow that social norm. As such, their combat skills were rarely needed, and the families rarely had someone skilled enough to justify needing their instruction. They were walking, talking, symbols of prestige for the families that hired them, and little more. All that really mattered to the families was their guardian rank, A-Z, the closer to Z the better.
If Badar had more skill, then it would be exactly the sort of job he would go for. Alicia had no doubts about that. The two of them were opposites. Badar had no drive. That he remained with this team was proof of that. While his guild card identified him as Heron-Class, no one doubted his actual capability was well within Involute-Class, possibly even Jacobian.
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Unlike her, Badar was all too happy with this. But that would change soon enough. She was sure he would leave their party as soon as they reached Tarrin Town.
Badar was a good scout for any quests in the wide open spaces of the outdoors. But in the narrow passages of a dungeon many of his merits would dry up, his skill set simply wasn’t suited to such an environment. She wondered why he even joined them in heading to Tarrin Town in the first place. He would probably spend a bit of time there scouting for alternative entrances and escaping monsters and whatever else he could convince the local guild to pay him for, and then he’d be off to another city.
"You still are young and foolish." Badar responded.
If they weren’t on a mission, she might trip him by raising a foothold of dirt, or perhaps casting a stiff breeze to knock him over. Instead all she could do was flick him a stiff glare.
She was the youngest of her party, a fact they would never let her forget. But foolish? Absolutely not. Such comments were simply manifestations of jealousy born from their inadequacy.
"Bold words coming from a man stuck in Heron class for two decades." She quipped back.
Badar chuckled. “You say that as if Heron class is a bad place to be stuck."
"It's mediocre."
Alicia caught his brow fidget for a moment, though Badar said nothing.
For a few minutes they continued walking without a word, the jungle’s silence growing ever more unnerving with every moment. What made it all even more usual was that there was supposed to be a newly found dungeon close by.
Dungeon monsters did not behave like ordinary animals, their instinct for self preservation was twisted by the dungeon’s influence. Most would recklessly attack anything in their path that wasn’t dungeon-born, no matter the difference in power. It simply wasn’t in their nature to retreat, and their absence did not go unnoticed. Neither Alicia nor Badar said anything about this though. They both knew something was wrong, there was simply nothing to be done about it. The die was cast, they could only keep moving forwards.
"You know, when I was a green Delta-Class boy living on the Frontier and dreaming of a life as a Guardian, it wasn't the Nishina-Class legends who would save us from Ghouls and Centaurs, Sprites and Goblin hordes. No. Fourier-Class was our heroes. Gamma-class was our superstars. And Heron-Class our legends. I think Heron-Class is a fine place to retire."
Alicia snorted. “See. That’s what I dislike about you. You’re ok with mediocrity. You think of yourself as humble and down to earth, a man of the people, and you think of this as a good thing.
“It’s all a façade though, isn’t it? How many lives have you forfeited saving because you refuse to advance? You’re just selfish, or maybe just clueless. Heron-class is worthless. We mean nothing Badar. The true fight for humanity’s survival is fought far above us, and we all have a duty to strive for it, and here you are holding yourself back.”
Badar shrugged. "Where does it end? What’s the point of fighting for a life of nothing but misery?”
“It is our duty.” Alicia said. “To humanity.”
“And how long has that fight been going on? Hmm?” Badar said pointedly. “Thousands of years right? Hell you’re the scholar. You ought to know better than I do. There’s no end to it.”
“Defeatism such as yours is all that holds us back.” Alicia said. “Look to Oror, and see how far our strength can push the boundaries of the frontier when properly marshaled.”
Badar sighed, but said nothing on the matter. “Not much farther now. Maybe another ten minutes of walking." He said.
The two of them pressed on in awkward silence. The topic wasn’t worth any more effort and the both of them knew it. This was far from the first time they’d had this conversation.
“How do you do that anyways?” Alicia asked.
“Do what?”
“You never get lost, or need to double back. It seems like you always lead us down the optimal path, even in places you’ve never been before. I can’t see more than ten feet ahead of me with all this foliage in the way. I don’t understand it. Is it a spell?”
Badar shook his head. “No, it’s not magic. Just experience. You learn how the land likes to fold itself when you’ve been at it for as long as I have. Besides, it would be a waste of mana to cast spells constantly like that.”
For as unambitious as he was, Alicia at least respected his competency. It was what made the man so infuriating. He could be so much more. In her experience, most scouts contributed little except in their deaths, in which case, their failure to return pointed to danger in whatever direction they'd last departed.
Badar was more useful than that. He could follow tracks weeks old and weather worn, identify spells from their astral remnants, clear nuisances from ahead of their path, and locate advantageous grounds to set up camp. He’d even grown strong enough in combat to join their vanguard if needed. Far from the usual duties and capability of a scout.
True to his estimation, ten minutes passed, and they had reached a highpoint in the jungle, a hill steep enough to disrupt the grid of trees and open up a hole in the canopy that allowed a glimpse of the surroundings.
When they reached the very top of this hill the two of them stepped into a well-practiced routine. Alicia set up a web of defenses and detection arrays for any monsters that might show up from following their tracks, while Badar got to work climbing the tallest tree.
With how dense the Vencian forest was, the rolling hills, and the dense mana obfuscation, there was little other way to reliably navigate. Some people even theorized there was magical interference at play, like a spell that would actively disorient travelers into avoiding specific areas or traveling in circles. Popping one’s head above the canopy and strictly following landmarks was thought to circumvent such obstruction. Alicia thought this was nonsense; who would bother creating such a sophisticated, powerful, and wide-spread spell if it could so easily be negated?
It was seven minutes into Badar’s climb when Alicia first noticed something unusual. It was hardly detectable at first, though its strength grew with every passing moment. It was a power coursing through the astral plane. Mana resonance.
Feeling such a thing should have been impossible for her. She had neither the training nor the talent to detect such a thing. It was an art form, an entire branch of magic in the subtlety of mana. The fact that she could feel it could only mean one thing. There was no subtlety. Something powerful nearby was disturbing the astral plane, and it wasn’t afraid to show it.
Searching for more, Alicia signaled Badar to be still and at once she began channeling mana into her ears, enhancing her hearing. Augmenter magic was simple, more an enchantment than a spell. Yet it was also rare; few outside of noble bloodlines had both the capability and the training to use it.
With the forest so quiet, Alicia could push her perception to its absolute limit. Her hearing became so sensitive that even in the still air the gentle rustle of leaves sounded like the winds of a raging storm. She could even hear the stray water droplets falling from the treetops, remnants from a rain now hours past.
Amongst this cacophony of whispers was a faint but familiar noise. The sound of death. It was the gurgling noise of something drowning in its own blood. It was a sound she was familiar with, yet in this circumstance stood out as particularly strange. Not only did it clash with the silence of the jungle, but it went on and on and whatever it was never seemed to die.
Ordinarily, she might leave the area of her defenses for a moment to investigate, but all the peculiarities gave her pause.
The powerful thrumming of mana in the air only continued to grow stronger. It now felt very much like the mana drain of channeling a spell, except instead of expelling her mana by her own will, the environment was forcibly pulling it out.
Badar must have noticed it too. When she finished her exercise the two of them locked eyes with a knowing look, though neither said anything. They were in unknown territory here, and neither of them knew what to do.
Several minutes later and Badar had descended the tree. "There's a clearing about half a mile that way." He said, pointing in the same direction that already had Alicia’s attention.
“I heard something dying that way. Sounded like it was drowning in its own blood.”
“Any idea what it is?”
Alicia shook her head. “No. But there is something else. The astral realm is restless, I can feel a mana resonance coming from that same direction.”