Chapter 9: Bluerose Castle
~ Part 5: Pony! …Wait, that’s not a pony!? ~
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“Almost eleven already,” I read. Well, I thought as much. I’ll have to pull an all-nighter if I want to get this through. A day in-game should be enough to wrap this up. Maybe a bit more. “Five—No, let’s say eight hours…which makes thirty-two…It should work…” School starts in a couple days and I can’t really not show up on the first day of the new semester. It doesn’t look good because it’s one of the few days when the teachers actually do pay attention to who’s there and who’s not. “Oh, well...I’ll decide tomorrow. I always change my mind at the last minute anyway.” I yawn loudly.I step out of my gamepod, stretch languishingly, and glance at the clock held up by my alien friend from Planet Plastic.
Without lighting up the apartment, I drag myself to the kitchen and grab some snacks from the fridge. After eating, I take a quick shower, then set an alarm for two in the morning before dropping flatly on my bed. Sleep takes me in less than a minute.
* * *
I’m awoken two and a half hours later by the loud singing of Amy Lee. Resisting the intense urge to hit snooze and evanesce once more into dreamland, I scream in my pillow. Then I rise from my mattress akin to a zombie from its grave—throaty groan and all.
Rolling off the bed—“Ouch. Stupid floor.”—I crawl with much cursing to my gamepod and slither back inside with all the grace of a narcoleptic sloth. Eventually, I settle in, close the lid, and log in.
▼▼▼
I’m welcomed by the metallic tang and taste of blood, the acid ones of vomit, the sensation of the hard floor under me, the stiffness of my muscles, and the chilling cold—it’s an overall pain. I sigh philosophically. “It’s always such a pleasure to be back.”
I take a minute to recover from the abrupt shift from “after-bath freshness” to “tortured body and slaughterhouse stench” before rising from the destroyed mosaic, stretching my aching virtual limbs. Only after this do I finally turn around to look at the two headless armours who lay collapsed at the other extremity of the corridor. A dark chuckle escapes my lips, followed by an old merry tune.
“Who can take a sunrise~, sprinkle it with dew~ ♩
Cover it with choc’late ♫ and a miracle or two~?
♪ The Candy Man!
Oh, the Candy Man can. ♫”
Singing, I skip my way across the corridor. By the way, skipping in full armour on a stone floor is quite noisy—just sayin’. It’s also tiring, so I don’t recommend it to non-initiated.
I stop next to Headison’s helmeted cranium, which has rolled face down to a few yards away from his lifeless body. I pick it up and give it a shake. “Oh? You dead?”
The eyes of the severed head abruptly open, and it coughs painfully. At least it sounds painful. Undead don’t feel pain—not physical pain at the very least. “…Hilarious, kid. Hoho—*wheeze**COUGH* Heugh!” The head shakes violently as it coughs up black smoky ooze.
“So, how does it feel to be sick for the first time in millennia?” I ask in an innocent tone.
When the retching fit comes to an end, Headison glares scornfully at me. “What head’ve you done to us?!” he shouts, sending black spittle in my direction.
I shrug while juggling his head lightly from one hand to another. I’ve always wanted to do that. “Who knows? Maybe you’re allergic to cookies?”
“Like th’head could be the c’head’se!”
“Or you ate too fast?”
“Stop mocking me! And stop throwing me!!”
I steady the head in a Hamlet pose. “To mock or not to mock? That is the question. But food poisoning is pretty common, you know?”
“DON’T THINK I CAN’T TRASH YOU JUST BEC—*COUGH* *COUGH* Haaaaaarshhhh…”
More muddy darkness leaks from the undead warrior’s mouth. It also starts tearing out of his beady red eyes, and his already thin and decayed skin looks like it’s rotting at an accelerated rate. Whole parts of it are shedding away and revealing the twitching and swirling shadows underneath. Sparks of burning light are snaking inside the living darkness.
I can’t repress a sardonic smirk. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you can’t. You know, it didn’t have to come to this. You should just have let me pass through.”
“…Why are you so d’head s’head on running to your doom?”
My evil smirk drops, replaced by a neutral expression and I shrug. “I made a promise to someone.”
“A woman?”
“Almost. My little sister. Not by blood, though.”
“Family uh…Can’t say I understand…although I almost feel like I do. Well, a *cough* a knight should always keep his promises. *wheeze*”
“I intend to.”
“Good. I admit def’head’t then. Cunning is also a way to victory. It is my fault for being too trusting. Hoho*cough* Laughing, bad idea…Ahhh…Pain, what a nostalgic feeling. Ahem…So, as the g’head’keeper of the Blood Princess’ tower *wheeze* I grant you access to the roo—aaarrrh…to the room of the Guardian to f’head’ce your last challenge!”
Blood Princess… It only gets better and better, doesn’t it?
“So, what now? Do you give me some spell to open the door? Or is it a runic lock? Some old Soul Magic perhaps? A password?” I ask. Maybe the password is Melon?
“Nothing of the sort. The key is in a pouch on my belt.” His blurring eyes roll to point at his collapsed body. “Over there.”
“…a key…in a pouch.”
He isn’t meeting my gaze. “Well…We can’t be grandiose all the time.”
“I guess not…” I sigh.
“Kid. I’d like you to grant me two final requ’head’sts.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Two? You’re pretty demanding. And what’s with the ‘final’? It’s not like you won’t come back.”
“I’M AGONISING DAMM’HEAD!!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll listen. But I promise nothing. What is it?”
“How did you do it? I saw you head’ting those cookies…Damn. Def’head’ted by pastries. My honour will never recover. Besides, und’head can’t be poisoned! How did you do it?”
I can answer that. “Ever heard of ARS?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
I start walking towards his body as I explain. “ARS or Acute Radiation Syndrome, also known as radiation poisoning. It’s a disease from my world. Pretty vicious one. When exposed to too much radioactivity, the DNA—Ah. The…makeup of the body, it can be damage, and then the body starts to break down at a cellular level, a bit like an accelerated form of—” I notice Headison’s vitreous gaze. “Well, I’ll spare you the scientific gibberish. Let’s just say it eats and melts you from the inside, okay? But it’s not like a virus. It’s your own warped body that kills you, so you can’t do much about it. Haha. Isn’t it great?” A small uncontrolled snicker escapes my lips. Well, “great” is a very subjective notion.
“Of course,” I pursue, “finding a substance identical to polonium around here is pretty difficult. Impossible almost. Trust me, I’ve tried. There are mana-rich minerals, and mana poisoning has similar effects, but it’s not quite the same. However, a couple months ago, I discovered something fun while experimenting on undead.
“You see, I had those candies I usually give to kids. Special candies, infused with a low-level healing spell and some Sun magic. Once ingested, they radiate the cure from the inside of the body. I call it [Healthy Candy]. It’s nothing miraculous, but it can keep common cold away, and the likes. Even I use them quite often. A runny nose during a fight is really uncomfortable—on top of being majorly uncool. Ah, but you can’t understand that…Hahahaha. But I’m sidetracking.”
Headison looks at me flabbergasted. I can tell half of my explanation is going over his head. I sigh. Not many people get it when I try to explain stuff. Yasmin often tells me I would do a terrible teacher. Nevertheless, I like explaining stuff, so regardless of Headison’s understanding, I progress through my excited monologue, rapidly slipping into a sadistic sciency delirium—it happens. I bet I have that wild childish grin plastered on my face that Dan says makes me look scary.
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“But what’s truly fascinating is the devastating effect those candies have on undead…or dark beings in general. It breaks them down at their very core, ruptures the magical bindings that hold them together, tortures them, messes up their biology, and ravages their mind! …or something. It’s actually not that potent, but eating—let’s say—a third of a whole cookie jar? That would do. Hehehehe…It also works much faster that true ARS would ever kill someone.
“And I haven’t told you the best part. The very magnificence of this stuff is that the magic inside is so feeble. It’s practically impossible to detect! …Of course, getting the dark creature to eat enough candies is the tricky part, but once it’s done, all you have to do is to chill out and wait for them to slowly agonise, unable to understand what’s happening to them. Hahahaha…Hahhh…It’s funny.
“In fact…hehehe…when they notice something is wrong, it’s already too late! It was really hard to hold my laughter when you told me I couldn’t beat you, while you were stuffing yourself with my [Healthy Cookies]! Pffffft—HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oooohhh…That was priceless! Hahahahaha—HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…” I’m laughing so much, I have to hold to the wall to keep myself up.
After a good minute of uncontrollable laughter, I finally calm down. “…Hahaha…hahhh…ha. Not good. Not good. I’m not done yet. Focus, Elric. Focus. Think Dorothy. Riiight. It’s not the right time to lose it. Pffffiooo…So…Sorry ‘bout that…Okay. Did you say something about a second ‘dying’ wish?”
“…” The decapitated head of the [Dullahan] only stares blankly back at me.
I shake him a bit. “Oh? Headison?”
“…”
“Headdy?”
“…”
“Hey, you dead or something?”
…
……
………oh.
* * *
“Who can take a rainbow~ wrap it in a sigh~ ♩
Soak it in the sun~ ♫ and make a groovy lemon pie~
♪ The Candy Man!
Oh, the Candy Man can~ ♫”
Happily juggling with Headison’s lifeless skull, I skip my way to the [Dullahan]’s body. I pick up the key and walk up to the door—not forgetting to check that Tazius too has kicked the “buck’head”. He has. In fact, the big idiot even managed to stick his severed head in the empty cookie jar. What a glutton.
I try the key on the big door, hoping Headison wasn’t lying.
*click*
Good. Apparently, he told the truth. The key fits the lock perfectly and turns with a light click. Contrary to all the other doors in the castle, the black metal gate pivots on its hinges without a sound. It opens quietly to a vast obscure room filled with colonnades. The silence makes it actually more oppressive than if the door had creaked loudly. Too much cliché kills the cliché.
As I contemplate the awaiting darkness, I notice I’m still holding Mr Und’head—though it’s now visibly decomposed and turning into ashes. With a chuckle, I unceremoniously throw the canned skull over my shoulder.
*clonk* *roll-roll-roll*
“Now. Let’s go say ‘Hi!’ to this Blood Princess, shall me? Come with the best you got, Guardian. Big Bro Elric is in the place! Hmm-hm ♫ The Candy Man can 'cause ♫ he mixes it with love~ ♪ and makes the world taste gooooo~d. ♩” Humming, I step into the boss’ room. “Three~ Two~ One~ and…”
*SLAM*
I glance back with a raised eyebrow at the gate that just shut loudly. What did I say about too much cliché, uh? I shake my head. “Aaalalalalah. Seriously...I get nobody likes draughty hallways. I really do. But is it necessary to close the doors so violently? Besides, that auto-lock is terribly unpractical, you know? I wouldn’t give more than four out of ten for the hospitality. And imagine if a fire breaks out? Ah-AH! You’d be quite embarrassed, right?” I sigh and return my gaze to the dark room as I skip deeper inside. “Guardian-chan~ Wheeere aaaare yooouuu? Elric nii-chan brought cookies! Hehehe.” You don’t have any cookie left. Yes, but the guardian doesn’t know that.
Like in the preceding corridor, livid torches alone fight a losing battle against the obscurity. Their faint glow barely reveals the shadows of the nearest colonnades. Quickly, I resummon the [Lantern of the Selfish One]. Walking in the small sphere of light the spell provides, I’ve got the impression of progressing inside a ruined temple floating in deep space, surrounded by an endless void, with the torches as pale emerald stars in the darkness infinite.
Or maybe they are will-o'-the-wisp with sticks up their bum?
“Ugh.” Why do you feel obliged to always ruin the moment?
Because I can.
That’s a stupid reason.
Who’d cast a lighting spell so weak anyway? Those sodomite fireflies are giving off even less light than the big ass magical circle over there.
Over where?
There.
Oh. That big magical circle. Well, that big magical circle really is big. It’s normal that the glow of that big magical circle is stronger than the one of the torches.
But there are more torches. Their combined light should be stronger than the big ass magical circle.
Yes, but they aren’t combined. They’re scattered. Which is exactly why they are giving off less light than that big magical circle.
And the glow that big ass magical circle is getting stronger.
Yes, this big magical circle—Wait.
Big magical circle?
…
…..
………
Uh oh.
Shit.
A big magical circle!
That can’t be good!!
NONONONO!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO—Wait. This is a Boss Room. It’s not supposed to be good.
WERE DOOM—What? Oh. Right. True, true…hehehe…err…
…
…
I was just surprised…a little.
Sure…
At the end of the central aisle, on the opposite side of the immense room, a large cluster of convoluted glyphs carved into the floor has started to pulsate, about at the same time I entered the room. The nauseous dark purplish glow is now rapidly gaining in intensity—which indeed “can’t be good”.
In the spooky isle of purple luminescence projected by the runes, I can distinguish more impressive but damaged and half-collapsed columns, complemented by the usual junk of rotten banners and crippled statues. Behind the magical circle, I spy a short flight of stairs topped by a broken throne, and, further behind the ruined seat, a passageway that opens in the wall, probably once hidden by the throne. An immaterial barrier of the same unhealthy purple colour obstructs the passage.
On the plus side, I’m now pretty sure this is indeed the Boss Room, just from the throne. You rarely find the boss in the toilets next to the throne room…Rarely. Rarely.
I immediately begin to run…towards the purple lights. I don’t know how long the spell will take to activate, nor have I any idea what it’s supposed to do—though I can roughly guess—but I am determined to at least try to get a look at the circle before whatever is supposed to happen happens. After all, there is a slim possibility I might be able to disarm the construct. I never understood why people wait for their enemy to complete their transformation/combining sequence in TV shows. It’s stupid.
“Evil will always triumph because good is dumb.”
Adolf Hitler?
Dark Helmet from Space Balls.
...Close enough.
So. The best way to stop the activation of a magical circle is obviously to cut off its power source, which can be either one or several mages or a charged [Mana Gem].
Many actually think this is the only way because, for one, not many people know anything about runes anymore and, for two, trying to rewrite or interfere with a magical circle mid-activation is as safe as manipulating high-voltage power lines barehanded and in the rain next to a box filled with nuclear warheads—in other words, “not very safe”. As such, magic without clear origin is typically difficult to deal with, often leaving crude counter-spelling as the sole defensive option.
However, who am I?
Who are you?
I am the one and only Elric Walker!
I ain’t afraid of some little thermonuclear explosion!
Even though past experience really ought to have taught you better.
“Silence, me! So…let’s see what we’ve got here. Mmmh. Interesting. Those are the same runes that were on the Yellow Brick Road, right?”
Yep. Same runes. [Ancient Language Mastery] is giving nothing.
“Dammit. I know next to nothing about those…Not much I can do… Tsk. Now I wonder if there is—No. Not ‘if’. ‘What’ is the link between those scribbles and the Erwynian royalty? This castle used to be theirs, right?”
That’s what the old fart said.
“What about the grand curse covering Erwyn? Given those particular runes are heavily oriented towards soul magic…”
Headison said he didn’t know about that. And soul magic is not necromancy.
“Close enough...I guess someone toyed with powers out of his reach and got burned…and the whole kingdom with him…or her.”
Never underestimate a woman wielding magic. Especially [Fire] magic.
*shiver*
“Ri-Right…But [Soul] magic should be as dangerous…Mmmmh... Also, I should try to get another, closer look at those antique runic walls the towns have in this country. I found nothing suspicious up to now, but maybe there was some kind of illusion covering it. After all, if I were a Runic Soul Archmage, I wouldn’t want my secret runoglyphs to be openly displayed for the townsfolks to see.”
While holding my internal dialogue, I scan my memories for anything that could help. But I’m coming back empty. “Well, I tried. Like Julius Caesar once said: I came, I saw…that’s enough, let’s get out of here.” Are you sure? Positive.
Without letting the pulsating circle out of my sight, I take several steps backwards in preparation for receiving the creature the spell is most likely about to conjure. Because, what could be a giant magical construct inside an empty boss room be, except a summoning circle? A teleporting gate towards Cookie Heaven or a world dominated by primates perhaps? Possible, but improbable. Rule 108. Oh, right. Those were a thing.
Having put enough distance—I think—between myself and the hopefully-not-doomsday-machine, I stop and I proceed to jump in place while clapping my hands in rapid succession—letting my inner fangirl come up to the surface.
You don’t have an inner fangirl.
What do you know?
I killed her and buried the corpse inside the sofa.
“…” I stop jumping and clapping.
I close my eyes an instant and massage the bridge of my nose. Then I reopen my eyes and refocus on the magical circle. “Err…anyway…what will it be? A [Fallen Executioner] maybe? Or a [Bone Gargoyle]?” The [Ancient Dark King] is also an option. “I’d think a [Harbinger of Death] or a good old [Grim Reaper].” Inner fangirl or not, my enthusiasm is gradually returning. “Maybe Alucard? Kel'Thuzad? Skeletor? Naraku? Solomon Grundy? Sadako under testosterone?! Hahaha! SURPRISE ME BLUEROSE!! HAHAHAHA!”
I throw a couple of air-punches. “Show me your worst! I’ve gone through hell to keep enough mana for your darn boss! Don’t you dare send me a squirrel!” Somewhere mid-way through, my merry expectant speech has turned into a boasting challenge rant, my voice dropping fast from normal down to deep theatrical badass.
Although, Alucard is a bit…I know, I know. I need more recent references. “But what can I say? I like retro. It’s—What’s this?”
I suddenly notice. During my rant, a ghastly bluish form has started emerging from the pulsating circumvolutions. Swarming purple runes constrict the apparition, binding the no-doubt powerful soul to the circle. Climbing out of the floor like from a pool of thick mud, the humongous phantom beast laboriously sets paw into the dark throne room. Finally, I contemplate the translucent being in all of its deadly majesty. “Hahaha…” A nervous laughter escapes me.
Long whipping tail, enormous reptilian four-legged body, sharp claws each big as my thighs, burly shoulders and snake-like twisting neck, spikes-crowned head, jaws filled with innumerable teeth and a breath carrying the fire of the underworld. The monster lets out a deafening roar that shakes the entire room, and possibly the whole castle. Stones cascade down from the ceiling.
The emblematic monster of any fantasy universe—although in undead ghostly form—is now standing before me.
“Hahahaha! A dragon!? They took out the freaking Soul Dragon!?” Elric, shut up. “Really?! Reeeeally?!” Elric! “Come on! What did I say about clichés?!”
ELRIC!!
“WHAT?!”
…Nothing. It’s too late now.
At the sound of my voice, the massive [Soul Dragon of the Abyss “Kalameet”] turns its huge ethereal head in my direction. We lock gaze for a few heartbeats, I gulp, and then the dragon opens its maw and inhales. Purplish blue flames gather at the back of its throat.
…
……
………
Uh oh.
Shit.
* * * * *