Vitus

The boon I earned when I reached Iron had hardened my body until it could withstand intense punishment. But this was pushing even my limits. How much longer could we keep this up?

Sweat poured from me as I took a step forward, swiping my great ax left and right, cleaving rats in two or knocking their weapons away as they charged. Their soft bodies gave before my axe like wheat, but they kept coming.

The scents of blood, sweat, and excrement filled the narrow passage.

“Keep pushing!” I roared, swinging hard and cutting down two rats in one blow. The kills earned us another two steps of space into the tunnel.

There were fifty other adventurers in our group now. We were making our final press for the spawning room, and the number of enemies had only grown more intense.

“Pleeeggeeee,” one of the dying rats screamed out. “Yesss,” another hissed.

Their strange words and death screams were disturbing, but I had decided their intelligence was an illusion—a guise put up by the dungeon to try to break our resolve as we were forced to cut down scores and scores of these things. The rats were little more than beasts forced to dance by a hidden puppet master. We were doing them a mercy by slaying them.

They fought on two feet, using their small hands to grip crude, poisoned weapons. Some wore dented and scrapped-together armor.

Someone shot a disc of barbed metal from behind us. It rose over my head, angled down, and sliced through twenty rats in a gory shower.

“Fucking careful!” I roared without looking back. Godsdamn mages. One slip of control and she could’ve killed someone.

I cut down a few more rats, then signaled for the Iron warrior behind me to rotate forward and take my place. He mopped sweat from his forehead, punched his knuckles together, and waded into the fray, arms pistoning as rats were blown apart by his unarmed blows.

I caught my breath as I followed, shifting my focus to keeping the rotation fresh.

The tunnel was only wide enough for one or two men to stand shoulder to shoulder. It meant we constantly walked over ruined bodies, and I barely had room to swing my ax. It also meant most of our number was wasted, practically waiting in line as we scooted forward with agonizing slowness.

We only had five or six people capable of taking the front position, though, and I feared we would all succumb to exhaustion before we reached the spawning room.

Julius Amun tapped me from behind. “Sir,” he said, straight white teeth flashing. “Let me have a turn.”

“You’re a glass cannon. I’m not putting you at the front,” I said. “Save your strength for the spawning room. We’ll need it.”

I could tell the dark-haired youth in his shining armor was annoyed, but he at least had the good sense to drift back into the crowd, impatiently waiting. If we got much more exhausted, I may yet have to send him out front to risk his life so we could rest and recover.

This damn dungeon. Gods. I could hardly believe it was only an Iron-level threat. I knew my mother had led parties to clear Gold-level dungeons. I had imagined some of her stories were exaggerations meant to impress her soldiers, but now… now I wasn’t sure she was making them up.

I stepped over a rat that was split from head to crotch, deciding not to think about it.

Right now, I was here, and these people depended on me to lead them. We just needed to get to that godsdamn spawning room and put an end to this madness. After that, we could decide what to do about the damn fool who had let himself become Eclipsed by dark mana. Now, he was apparently running around the dungeon, murdering anyone who crossed his path.

So long as we stopped him from reaching the dungeon’s heart, he should be a manageable threat, though.

Problems on top of problems. Gods. Who had I pissed off to find myself in this royal mess?

Krete

“You said you would help them,” I whispered.

In time.

“When?” I asked.

One last task, Krete. Six of them are coming to you. It’s why I’ve asked you to wait here. I have given you more than enough power to dispatch them. Do this for me, and you’ll have them back. All of them.

“Will they even recognize me?” I asked. Even my voice didn’t sound right. It was… deep. Bestial. My body felt wrong, too. My mind swam with impulses, reflexes, and desires that weren’t my own. It felt like something was rising from inside me, growing roots that snaked through every fiber of my physical body and my mind, replacing me with… something else.

I could sense how connected I was to that terrible tree. It pulsed like my heartbeat, drawing something out of me as it pushed something new in.

In my rare moments of clarity, I found it horrifying. What the hell was happening to me? Where were my fucking legs? Gods. It had taken my legs…

“Why did you do this to me?” I shouted, voice loud enough to shake the dungeon heart chamber.

Hush. Shhhh, Krete. I did only what was necessary. Your family will understand that you did this for them. You are their hero, and you sacrificed your mortal body to gain the strength to save them. You’re a hero, Krete, and the people coming are evil. You’re my champion, and all I need you to do is kill the six monsters who are coming for you now.

“Monsters?” I asked. Hadn’t he called them people before? It would be a relief to kill monsters this time. For a time, I had completely given in to the power. The deaths hadn’t bothered me and I had let the voice’s dark magic flow freely. Now, though… Now it felt as though my mind was making one last desperate grasp for air—one final, clawing attempt to surface.

I knew it was hopeless. Whatever happened to me was too complete. Too powerful.

At least monsters didn’t scream when they died. They didn’t beg for mercy.

These monsters have taken human form, Krete. And they’re coming to stop you from saving your family. They want you to be alone. They want you to die down here, leaving your family in darkness forever.

A deep, pulsing rage grew inside me. I had been a gentle, kind, and loving man before all of this. We had fought together as a family. My wife healed, I tanked, and my daughters provided damage support. We were a team. But when they died down here, something inside me cracked wide open.

The darkness saw my weakness and rushed into me, taking hold.

Before this, I had prided myself on being able to cage my anger when necessary. Now the cage was broken and torn. The rage was a living thing—wild-eyed and eager to rise. When it came, I left behind torn and twisted bodies. It pushed me from my own mind, forcing me into a distant back seat where everything was blissfully dull and felt numb. The actions of my body were nothing but sounds I could hardly hear in the distance, faint thumps moving through the floor…

When the rage came, I didn’t fight it. I let it wash me deeper and deeper into my own mind as if I were a leaf being carried by a great current. I let it grow until it warmed me like a comforting fire. The rage brought power, and it brought the beast who would do what the voice asked. Just this one last task, and he would reward us. One last task, and he would bring them back.

The strange, dark power in my stomach seeped out again, doing things to me I couldn’t explain. I only felt that I was changing again, becoming something else. I was becoming something… more.

But what would Helena say if she saw me now? Would she still love me? Even like this?

I leaned forward, unfamiliar, long-fingered hands clutching a head that didn’t feel like my own. I screamed, even though I had no mouth.

Shhhh, Krete. Rest now. Let the beast handle this. He is ready and willing.

Yes… He was right about that. The beast was already in control. I didn’t have to do anything now. If I let him be, he could take full control and do what was needed.

I sank deeper, letting the beast take more control than I had ever relented. I roared again, but this time, it was a roar of readiness and anticipation, not terror.

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This time, the beast was ready and waiting for what was to come.

Lyria

Whatever was ahead roared again. The sound was wrong, somehow, as if it was being filtered through water. Tremors ran through the cramped grommet tunnel, knocking loose streams of dirt and rocks that pattered on our heads and shoulders.

I hunched in on myself a little tighter, holding my knees. We had been sitting and gathering strength and mana for the past hour. The constant roars of the beast had chased away any idle conversation. We knew our chances weren’t good against whatever was making that sound, and it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

The cave was collapsed behind us, and the only way forward was through that thing.

Ramzi sat with his back against the wall, humming softly. Occasionally, a cool, refreshing magic would brush against my skin, clearing my head slightly and making me feel calmer.

Thorn and Sylara held hands, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. They sat silently, foreheads pressed together as if sharing a silent prayer. They had been that way for half an hour.

Brynn stood deeper down in the tunnel with his ghost Pebble summoned. He had sent it back and forth to scout the area ahead, but seemed to have trouble figuring out what we were dealing with, since the rock’s communication skills were limited.

Brynn crouched low and gestured as if talking to the thing. The pebble rolled around, almost like it was trying to get some kind of point across.

Ever since we had come down here together, Brynn had been changing. It was subtle, maybe, but I noticed it. He was retreating inward, as if shouldering more and more of the responsibility. Even now, I suspected he knew more than he was letting on, but held it in because he didn’t want us to be frightened. He was probably working out a plan with his pet rock, and he’d bring it to us when he thought he had a solution.

The way he wanted to protect our lives and morale was admirable, but it worried me. How much of that weight could he bear before he’d break? He was putting it all on himself to spare us, and I wished he would include us, even if it was only so he didn’t feel like he had to do it alone.

When I had gone to ask him about things, he simply shrugged and said we probably should wait for our mana to recover. He was obviously working on a plan, but didn’t want to talk me through the details.

Was it because he thought the situation was hopeless?

The other change in Brynn since we had come down here was his growing power. His second class corestone had dramatically improved his abilities. I sensed the ability to heal and shield himself had been the catalyst. He seemed to believe he could take on any challenge, now, and so far, he had been right.

This new version of Brynn was a far cry from the man I had first met in Riverwell. Admittedly, I thought he had taken the world too lightly and would be eaten up by it. But he learned quickly. He also had a knack for maximizing his opportunities in every way. The first few times, I had taken it for luck. But it was relentless. He was always making the most of whatever he had, whether it was information, tools, or time.

By now, I felt delusional degrees of confidence that Brynn could find a way through this mess if one existed. I tried to push back against the feeling. I knew putting so much hope in a single man wasn't fair, and I knew I shouldn’t become so reliant on someone else.

When I lost my parents, I had tried to harden myself. I knew there wouldn’t ever be someone else in this world I could trust to look out for me like my own parents. It meant I was on my own, and I had to get used to it. Because the people you care about always left, one way or another. Sometimes, they let you down, sometimes they betray you, and sometimes they die.

But here I was, putting every scrap of hope into a man I barely knew.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. I needed to snap the hell out of it. Even if we somehow survived this, Brynn was obviously growing too fast for me to keep up with. He’d leave me behind when he realized it, if he hadn’t already. And if he didn’t, I’d only be a liability for him. Unless, of course, I could master this Soulbound potential of mine. Maybe there was a pathway to keeping pace with him or at least making myself useful enough that I wasn’t a burden.

Either way, I reminded myself it was okay to trust a leader temporarily. That’s all this was. I wasn’t banking my future on him sticking around and solving my problems. No, I was simply looking toward the strongest member of our group. I was putting my trust in a man who proved to be clever. Those were logical decisions, and they weren’t the foolish impulses of a little girl who missed the stability her parents had granted.

“How do you know him?” Zahra asked in a quiet voice from beside me.

“Brynn?” I asked, self-consciously dragging my eyes away from him. He was explaining something in slow, careful tones to his pet rock. It gave a bounce, then rolled off down the tunnel again. “I was tasked with keeping an eye on him when he arrived in my town,” I said.

“Oh,” Zahra tilted her head, seeming surprised.

I grinned a little. “Instead, I wound up getting tangled in his mess and dragged from place to place, and eventually from one disaster to the next. I think I had this idea that I could protect him, and now look at me.” I sniffed dismissively, feeling stupid all over again.

“The strong still need protection,” Zahra said. “Sometimes, they need protection from themselves. Some simply need a soft voice to take the edges from an otherwise difficult life.”

I considered her words. Maybe she was right. Even if I never managed to leapfrog Brynn in power or ability, he would lose his mind if he only talked to his magical pets. He needed some actual human interaction. If our four new allies were any indication, he probably needed somebody in his life who didn’t practically worship him after seeing him in action.

“Maybe I can keep him from getting too big of a head,” I said. “It would be a shame if he stopped fitting in that helmet.”

Zahra flashed white teeth in the torchlight. The grommets didn’t light their tunnels, so Ramzi had been carrying a flame for us to chase away the darkness. It was propped up beside him as he leaned on the wall, still humming with his eyes shut and a faint smile on his lips.

“Do you truly not warm his bed?” she asked suddenly.

My cheeks went hot at that. “No,” I said quickly. For starters, Brynn’s bed would curse me to death if I ever tried that. But also, just… no. “No,” I said again.

“Why?” she asked.

I opened my mouth, struggling to think of an intelligent response. My eyes slid toward Brynn, who was already having another animated discussion with his pebble. At least he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Even if I was interested, which I’m not, he hasn’t ever given the slightest hint that he’s interested.”

Zhara gave me a knowing smile. “Rejection is not such a terrible thing. Regret is far more deadly.”

“You’re misunderstanding the situation,” I said firmly.

“I will say no more, then.” Zahra was still wearing that shit-eating smile, though.

What was it with these sekmeti? And what did it matter? Chances were, we would all be nothing but bloodstains in a few minutes.

I sat quietly, forcing myself to look away whenever I realized I was watching Brynn. Zahra and Ramzi were getting in my head. That was all. Of course I was watching Brynn. He was the only person moving and doing things right now, and he was also the one who would tell us when it was time to go get ourselves killed.

I wished I had Brynn's mana mastery so I could afford to train more. Instead, I was forced to endure tempting flashes of potential in combat, burning through my mana after only three or four abilities. My first goal of training needed to be a way to overcome whatever was blocking my mana supply. If I could do that, I thought I could advance in leaps and bounds.

I smiled when Brynn’s pebble bounced up and bumped into his side, making him laugh and swat at it. Maybe he still wasn’t completely hardened. Maybe this place just had him on edge like the rest of us, but he would be more of his old self when we were out of here.

I noticed Zahra’s amused expression had faded to something haunted and scared. She was staring ahead, gaze unfocused.

“He’ll figure something out,” I said, giving her knee a soft bump with my knuckles. I may wish I wasn’t depending on him, but there was no reason to rob that security from the others. “He always seems to.”

Zahra shifted her cat-like eyes toward me. “I’ve heard stories of dungeon guardians before. Back home, the guardians of The Necropolis, The Inferno, and The Black Keep fuel our children’s stories. Mothers tell their daughters how the man with seven fingers will pluck them into the darkness if they leave their homes at night. They say the red knight will kill their husbands if they look at another woman—that the four sleepers will find them in their dreams and eat their souls…”

I grimaced. “That is… charming.”

“The dungeons are to be feared and revered. Before the kiergard enslaved us, sekmeti were raised to aspire for glory. Our bravest and strongest would test themselves in the dungeons. Only the strongest could enter The Black Keep. It is one of the few known Diamond-level dungeons, and those who died inside did so with honor. The rare few who survived were seen as heroes.”

Gods. A diamond-level dungeon?

I nodded. I had heard my own stories about famous dungeons in human territories. Because they regenerated, many were well-known and feared. Most were too difficult and dangerous for average adventurers to handle. Instead, people said it was the sort of thing left to the elusive Golds out in the wilds or even a Diamond.

Brynn stood suddenly, bumped his pebble with his fist, and then strode back toward the group. Everybody looked up at his approach. Even Thorn and Sylara broke out of their prayer posture to watch him, waiting eagerly.

“You’re all full on mana,” he said. “I don’t think that thing is going anywhere, and I also don’t think it would be smart for us to linger here too long.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait as long as we could here?” Thorn asked. “Those killers might tire of waiting or meet their ends if given enough time. The thing ahead could wander off or be taken down by others.”

“Dungeons can sometimes change their geography, right?” Brynn asked. “Shifting around and moving?”

“Yes,” Ramzi said.

“Unless I’m wrong,” Brynn said, touching the clear finger marks on the walls of our small tunnel. “This tunnel isn’t part of the dungeon. What happens if the dungeon changes shape while we’re in here? Who says this tunnel would be considered part of the dungeon? It might stay unchanged while the rest of the place moves around us. What then?” He let the question linger, even though it was clearly rhetorical.

We could be stranded in a cramped, claustrophobic tunnel that connects to nothing, squished by a new corridor, or appear in the middle of an acid lake.

My panic came on suddenly and with urgency. We had to get moving. Fast. How long had he known? Was he sitting there with the knowledge, waiting as long as he dared so we had enough mana to face the threat ahead?

It was another one of those weights of leadership I wished I could help him with. For now, I just wanted to get the hell out of this tunnel.

I wasn’t alone.

Brynn’s words had all of us standing and moving fast.

“Did you learn anything helpful from your rock?” I whispered.

“I learned it’s not a nightmaw, and it’s not one of those nasty bat rat things. And I learned that Pebble isn’t afraid of it, but he’s not afraid of anything. Oh, and there is a great ramp, apparently.”

“A ramp?” I asked, completely dumbfounded.

Brynn shrugged.

“Any plan for the fight?” I asked.

“Sort of,” he said. “But I’m not sure if things will work how I hope. There can be powerful corestones in the dungeon heart, right?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” I said slowly. “But you can’t think binding to a new corestone in the middle of a fight is a good solution, can you?”

“I’ve had practice learning quickly,” he said, eyes determined. “But no. That’s not exactly what I was thinking. Either way, I’m sure we’re going to have to adapt and figure something out. We’ve done pretty well so far, and…” he lowered his voice. “The chamber ahead is huge. Plenty of room for big booms.”

Was he actually smiling at a time like this?

I let out a deep, concerned sigh. His smiling either meant he had lost his mind or he thought we had a chance. I was going to seriously hope it was the latter.