Kredevel took a moment to still himself. To gather himself. Everything hinged on this moment. He could very well save the entire plan.
Or he could die and ruin everything.
“Are you sure about this?” Serian asked.
Kredevel and certainty hadn’t been allies for a while now. Ever since the time the Brighthorns had been sent out into this nightmare of a Tower, ever since Brick Licker had died, Kredevel had been sure of nothing. Even now, when everything was so finely balanced and needed assured actions, he couldn’t find any real certainty.
He trusted himself, though. That would have to be enough.
“Things are moving at a breakneck pace,” Kredevel said. “I may have abdicated my earlier position, I may have grown disillusioned by what I discovered, but there is still time for me to contribute.”
Serian wasn’t satisfied by his answer. “I don’t know if it will be enough to convince the Floor Lord to forgive you.”
The younger Sylvan was one of the few besides Kredevel and Olgolair to remain inside the abandoned palace of the Everair. Although, with the way the battles were proceeding, that wouldn’t be the case for long.
“The Floor Lord cares not about forgiving anyone,” Kredevel said. “Least of all me. Although, he has nothing to forgive me for. After all, the theft and destruction of the training capsules had no effect upon him.”
“That sort of attitude is exactly what I’m afraid of, Kredevel.”
Patting his companion’s shoulder, Kredevel strode forward until he passed through the doors that led into the main chamber. There were no guards, no attendants, nothing of the sort. That was the only reason Kredevel could walk in so simply. It made things quite convenient.
The horns at his elbows and shoulders felt itchy. Always a sign that Kredevel was nervous. Anxious.
As much as Kredevel attempted to control himself, the tips of his fingers twitched. The instincts trained through battle were all firing at once. Death was near at hand. One misstep, and he could very well end up as a corpse dirtying the palace’s main chamber.
Within the room beyond the doors, the Floor Lord was staring down at a few items at his feet. The ingredients of whatever ritual he was cooking up.
The culmination of his efforts on the First Floor.
Well, almost. There was one small missing factor. A piece that was in Ray’s hands at the moment.
Kredevel didn’t recognize the majority of what lay before Olgolair. There appeared to be some kind of large dish. It held a cloth that partially covered a contraption that looked like several pipes of different lengths attached to some kind of machine with strings.
The Floor Lord turned to survey the ones approaching him. “Ah, Kredevel. It has been quite a while since last I saw you. Where have you been?”
Just behind Kredevel, Serian drew in a sharp breath. Kredevel wanted to shoot him a meaningful look. This was why Kredevel held enough confidence about his intentions here. The Floor Lord was so removed from the other Sylvans, from almost all his subordinates, it wouldn’t have been surprising if the Handler had already forgotten about Kredevel’s little defection.
“Greetings, Floor Lord,” Kredevel said, taking a knee a few dozen handspans from his superior. His former superior. His body really didn’t want to remain still, to remain supplicant before one who could very well kill him. “I have been busy trying to find the elusive target you set me. Though, I am curious—does the ongoing turmoil not bother you, my lord?”
“Ongoing turmoil?” The Handler looked genuinely puzzled for a brief moment. “Ah, you mean the excursion all your little fellows were so insistent on heading out to.” He waved a dismissive hand. “As long as they bring me what I need, all will be well.”
Another little indrawn razor-sharp breath came from Serian. Kredevel perhaps should have prepared the lad some more.
“Speaking of what you need, my lord,” Kredevel said, bowing his head respectfully. “The turmoil has made things a little more complicated.”
Olgolair wasn’t surprised. He turned back to surveying the various implements set before him. Of course, he must have received updates through the chat. “What of it?”
“I believe I may have the solution.”
That caught his attention. “Speak up.”
“Before today, there was the other issue. The one where several of my comrades were killed by the one you were targeting, the Denizen from the Marauder’s Caves. I believe he has the last… piece you need, yes?”
“How did you come by such knowledge?”
“I managed to converse with the human.” Serian breathed so sharply at that, Kredevel was almost tempted to look back and make sure he was alright. “Forgive me, but I realized that I was no match for him. His killer reputation is frightening. So I opted for a different approach. I attempted to become his friend.”
“…I see. And your endeavour succeeded.”
“Not really, my lord. He regards me with suspicion, and the feeling is mutual. Had I remained in his presence for long, I surely would have been killed. But I managed to acquire one vital piece of information. Right now, at this moment, he is underneath us.”
“The dungeon?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Kredevel’s fingers twitched again, but he curbed their rebellious impulses. Not yet.
The Floor Lord hadn’t replied. Kredevel wondered if he was trying to confirm the information somehow. Perhaps he was asking the Sylvans out on the First Floor if they had encountered Ray yet.
“That is vital intelligence, Kredevel,” Olgolair eventually said. His voice held the gravitas he hadn’t cared to give it so far in their little meeting. “If true, it would simplify a great many matters.”
“It is true, as far as I was able to ascertain, Floor Lord.”
“Then the rest do not need to continue on this foolish campaign any longer. We may as well recall them to where they need to act.”
While Kredevel didn’t react, Serian winced. The Floor Lord clearly didn’t care enough to notice it. Kredevel sympathized, though.
The rest of his brethren wouldn’t be happy at being recalled. For them, this was a pogrom. A mission to bring the rebellious, insurgent humans to heel. To punish those who had killed Sylvans and Brighthorns so indiscriminately.
Kredevel understood all that. He felt their need to exact vengeance too. The difference was that he prioritized himself over this… societal need for retribution.
Of course, as far as he had heard about the battle reports, they were being pushed back anyway. The losses had been steep. Whatever strategy Ray and his fellow human Denizens had come up with was working with terrifying effectiveness. Kredevel was partly elated that the other Sylvans were being pushed back, were retreating already.
“However,” the Floor Lord said. “It is difficult to believe that things could turn out to be so convenient.”
Kredevel frowned. “What do you mean, my lord?”
The Floor Lord began walking around the perimeter of his strange ritualistic setup. “Think for a moment, Kredevel. You could have been baited. Fooled. This could be a trap, couldn’t it?”
“I… there is the possibility, yes.”
“Not that I truly care, you understand. If it is a trap, then we will brave it. All I need is the Tower Node that human has stolen. And then, everything will fall in place. So, trap or not, I will have what I seek.”
Kredevel could tell he wasn’t the only one who heard that. The order had been given. The rest of the Sylvans had been informed that their main quarry was in the last place they would have thought to find him.
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“Was that all?” the Floor Lord asked.
Kredevel kept his head bowed. “I had nothing further to add, my lord.”
“Then, since you have completed your duty, you can remain here with me.”
Kredevel looked up, unable to help the frown creasing his brows. “Remain with you, my lord?”
“Yes. Meanwhile…” Olgolair turned to the third Sylvan in the room. “Serian, was it? Go to the sky dungeon’s entrance and seek out the human within.”
Serian wasn’t the only one who froze. Kredevel’s horns itched with far greater ferocity than before. The light in the Floor Lord’s eyes was almost casually cruel. It is difficult to believe that things could turn out to be so convenient.
“Once you have located him,” the Floor Lord continued. “Make sure to mark his location and guide the others who will follow you. Then take out the human and retrieve the Tower Node he possesses.”
Serian didn’t move at first. Kredevel wished he would remain frozen that way, that the young Sylvan would turn into the statue, unable to move even if he wanted. His Heart Clusters were pitter-pattering within his chest. Not good. Not good at all.
“Well?” Olgolair asked. “Why do you wait?”
Serian shook himself. “Apologies, my lord. I haven’t been on any excursions yet. I was mostly stuck taking care of the Bright—”
“You have your order. Now go.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With a stiff bow, and a last look at Kredevel, Serian left. To his death.
All this time, Kredevel had always been careful to never go directly against one of his own. Even in that big battle where Lastiel had so obtusely inserted himself, Kredevel had managed to come out without needing to confront a fellow Sylvan. He had been grateful that Ray had dissuaded him from jumping into the fight, even if it had been for seemingly selfish reasons.
But now… if he didn’t act, he would be sending one of his own to his death. Did it matter, though? He had already sent several of his own kind to their deaths, had already consigned many of his own to their last moments.
After all, it was his information that allowed Ray and the other humans to prepare their plans against his fellows.
With Serian, it was different. This was a Sylvan he truly cared about, a friend, a junior who looked up to him. Almost like the little brother he had never had. Seran didn’t care for vengeance, had no wish to accompany the others on missions to mete out “justice”. He was just a lad who enjoyed taking care of the Brighthorns.
And yet, the Floor Lord had sent him to his death.
Kredevel: Serian, do not reveal this message to anyone. What awaits you within the dungeon is most likely a trap. I beseech that you refrain from going within.
The message through the chat went out just after Serian had disappeared from the chamber. If he was surprised, the Floor Lord wouldn’t see it.
Serian: Kredevel, what do you mean? Why didn’t you stop me before?
Kredevel: ‘Tis a rather long story. I beg that you do not go. Remain with the Brighthorns for now.
Serian: Kredevel, I can’t—
The chat window cut out all of a sudden. Kredevel was no longer staring at a gleaming blue box with bright, white letters. Instead, the Floor Lord stepped up.
“Ah, I was wondering how long it would take before the game would be up,” he said. His eyes almost seemed to shine with a devilish light. “One order to send the child to the dungeon, and your little façade already falls. How pathetic, Kredevel.”
Slowly, Kredevel got to his feet. It would appear he had been outsmarted. “Perhaps I should have been more open about it from the beginning.”
“Should you have? Would it have mattered? You weren’t lying after all. He is there. It would have changed nothing. The Sylvans will still delve deep into the dungeon and extract the Tower Node, trap or no.”
“So you ordered Serian to go to the dungeon just to force me to divulge that I knew more about the trap than I let on?”
Around the Floor Lord, glimmering amethyst light began to glow. Spiralling growths claimed his shoulders, his chest, his limbs. The sheer amount of Growth Mana he could channel dwarfed anything Kredevel could have ever attempted.
“Even that doesn’t matter,” Olgolair said. Even his hair was changing. The lustrous dark strands were thickening into hornlike consistency. “I am bored Kredevel. My ritual cannot begin for one measly reason. As such, I decided to entertain myself. I simply wanted to see just how much you could hold onto your charade. Was fooling me more important than Serian?”
He grinned, as though the answer to that question had turned out to be exactly what he had expected.
Kredevel had stood up already. Despite the obvious danger of his situation, despite the fact that he had been found out and that the whole operation was now imperilled, he didn’t feel jittery anymore. Everything was out in the open. All the cards were laid out.
The itch in his horns had disappeared, leaving Kredevel with a certain amount of surety he had been lacking so far.
Kredevel drew his sword. “I should warn you, Olgolair—I finally evolved my class.”
The Handler clapped one hand against his chest in mock appreciation. His other hand was held out, spiralling growth forming a twisted spear. “Do you believe that will be enough?”
“We shall see.”
Kredevel held no delusions. He was outmatched here. But the idea didn’t make him quail. For all that he had detested the idea of fighting his own kind, the Floor Lord was a different matter entirely. That damned spear flying in from out of nowhere.
It felt good to be able to finally answer that act of unwarranted aggression. For once, Kredevel knew, with absolute certainty, that he wasn’t in the wrong here.
“Come, come,” the Floor Lord said, pointing his constructed weapon at Kredevel. “Last long enough against me, and I shall quench the thirst of your curiosity.”
Kredevel snorted. What an undignified sound, yet it felt so good. So freeing. “What will you grant me if I win?”
“A path to the Second Floor.”
Kredevel froze. So the Floor Lord had known all along what Kredevel had truly wished for.
He shook his head. Then, with a shout, he attacked first.
----------------------------------------
Ray was getting a little tired of the dungeon. He had to have been here for hours, yet it didn’t feel like he had found much or even gone through enough of its floors.
With how far he had fallen to enter the dungeon itself, his expectation was that he would eventually make his way far, far up. The exit would lead into the main central tower. What Kredevel had called an old Everair palace.
Although, finding the exit wasn’t Ray’s goal.
What he had to actually find was the Tower Node that surely resided within this dungeon somewhere.
He hadn’t discovered its location yet. What he had found instead was a chamber full of fog and traps. Hadn’t he gone through one of these before? Another room where rain fell so hard that he wasn’t even able to open his eyes. Then one room was frozen solid entirely.
That last one had just been a what-the-actual-fuck moment, really.
It was taking too long. He was pretty sure it had been hours and the Sylvans would be here at any moment. Ray didn’t have any more time to waste.
So, he pulled out the only thing that could help. His first Tower Node.
It was almost as though the Tower Node of the Marauder was waiting to be summoned. Before Ray had even begun to properly think of calling it up, the Tower Node had blinked into existence before him.
“That’s so suspicious,” Ray said, squinting his eyes at the ceramic crystal hovering before him. “You know that, right?”
It simply floated there unassumingly.
Ray began walking, his Tower Node following like a dog that couldn’t bear to be apart from its owner for more than a minute. “Alright, it’s time for you to shine. I need to find the Tower Node of this dungeon, and I know there has to be one. Take me to it, please.”
It was a little silly to be talking to an inanimate object, but something told him the Marauder was listening in on him. That perhaps he was being guided.
The Tower Node flying off only cemented that assumption. Ray was being guided. Just hopefully not to his death.
Which… he wasn’t really sure about as his journey progressed.
The Tower Node led him straight back into the tunnel that was entirely frozen solid.
“Really?” Ray stared at the Tower Node. He imagined it was staring back uncompromisingly.
Sighing, Ray used Primal Summons to call up the Greater Windbane Maw along his arm and spew out its fiery breath. The flames were more chaotic than hot, but they did have some heat, which was enough to burrow through that entire blockade of ice.
It took a while, though. Ray’s heart started thudding faster after some time. How much longer did he have? When were the Sylvans going to arrive?
Hs sentry eyeball outside hadn’t spotted anything yet, so he was safe for the time being. But with how long it had already been, they would surely arrive at any moment.
Shivering as he made his way through the icy barricade, Ray and the Tower Node got moving. It led him through more traps, uncaring that there were traps. He supposed it was an indestructible—as far as he knew—System Artifact, do it didn’t need to care.
Ray, however, had to be careful about the boulder of ice rolling down one tunnel. So fucking cliché.
He also had to be careful not to stand in the water flooding another passageway while lightning randomly hammered down upon him. The electric charge was already being amplified thanks to the constant rainfall. He didn’t need to make his electrocution worse by standing in the flood too.
A different cloudy chamber had him pausing for a second. Trying to burn it away with the maw’s fire breath didn’t help.
The Tower Node flew straight in.
“Hey, wait up,” Ray said. The Tower Node didn’t listen.
Cursing, Ray followed it while flying with his wings. But flight didn’t help him, sadly. The floor cracked and fell apart, and his wings’ inability to grant him much elevation meant he was falling too. Annoying.
His plummet was slowed down though, and he didn’t end up striking the bottom. That would have been bad. Ray had no intention of being impaled by the spikes there.
His Tower Node was, of course, perfectly fine. In fact, it was rising straight back up. It ascended higher and higher, getting smaller as it got closer to their original location.
Ray was about to attempt to follow it. His wings wouldn’t be able to take him that high easily, but with a little push, it shouldn’t be impossible. That was when he heard a mechanism click. A groan followed, and Ray looked up just in time to see a massive axeblade descending in an arc.
He was able to throw himself to one side, though the blade still clipped him. The strike slashed through his shoulder, leading to a spray of blood and a burning line of agony.
Ray cursed, then sent some Recovery to fix it up. He stuck close to the wall. Every sense was on alert for more traps, though the axeblade seemed to be it in this chamber. Lucky him.
He looked up. It was still greatly foggy, but he spotted the Tower Node hovering just before the tunnel opening on the other side of his original passage. How nice of it to wait for him.
[Presence of the Primordial—Dungeon Obstacle]
Pit Trap
The sky is not meant for just anyone to travail. Those who trespass where they do not belong are sentenced as far from the sky as possible—in an abyssal pit. Seek a way to escape your earthly fate and ascend to the heavens once more, but beware the traps meant to keep you in place.
Hmm. It was a little frustrating. Ray shouldn’t have even fallen for the trap in the first place. Whatever.
Just as Ray was contemplating his next move, he spotted what he had been worrying about all this while.
The Sylvans had arrived. As indicated by the eyeball floating inconspicuously out of the way, a large group of the horned aliens were approaching the ruins Ray had used to enter the Tier 10 dungeon.
His time was up. Now more than ever, Ray needed to hurry.