Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 72 - Sorcery and Spellcraft - Part One
My plan to introduce and expose Terry to the people of Sanctuary was working just as I had hoped it would. I wanted him to understand that I did things differently, that I was in no way like his former Masters. To appreciate that his confinement had been motivated by a desire to protect the men, women, and children now going about their lives around us.
Arriving at the fortified gateway to The Grove, the Orcs and Lizardmen on guard stared at Terry with intense suspicion but allowed us through after recognising my alter ego.
Passing through the gateway, Terry quickly came to a standstill as he began silently staring at the supernatural beauty before us.
“This place is...” Terry shook his head, at a loss for words.
“Magical? Beautiful?” I suggested with a grin.
“Yeah...” Terry agreed, staring out at the lake with reverent awe.
“Wait here a moment,” I ordered. “I need to change. But if you are good, I’ll introduce you to Ushu.”
Terry frowned and looked like he was going to protest, but changed his mind as I mentioned Ushu. “That’s the dragon, right?”
“One of the Dragons,” I corrected with a chuckle.
Terry looked toward the sky and gave a dry gulp.
Suppressing the urge to tell him he was looking in the wrong direction, I used my authority to relocate myself to my cave. Shedding the non-magical clothing that was a part of my Human alter ego’s disguise, I stowed them away inside the Storage Ring.
Changing back to my true appearance was unpleasant but I felt much better once it was over. Being so small had a way of messing with my head.
Using my authority again, I reappeared beside Terry who had obediently remained where I had left him moments prior.
“Fuck me?!” Terry cursed, jumping back several paces in surprise. “Someone your size should NOT be allowed to move around like that...” He hissed, sweating nervously.
I shrugged. “If you found that surprising, maybe you aren’t ready to meet Ushu...”
Terry scowled.
“Just an observation,” I commented before nodding toward the lake.
Dorsal spines and fins had broken the surface, announcing Ushu’s imminent arrival.
Terry turned just in time to witness Ushu’s head crest the surface of the lake.
I conjured several roasted Swamp Lurkers and tossed them into Ushu’s waiting maw. He was capable of conjuring food for himself, or even hunting for it, but feeding him like this was a nicety and I saw no reason to do away with it.
“Terry, this is Ushu,” I couldn’t help but smile smugly as I made the introduction. “Ushu, this is Terry, he’s a guest.”
Ushu huffed indifferently, spraying Terry, and to a lesser extent, myself, with lake water and small chunks of roasted meat.
“How is Cooper doing?” I asked, curious since I hadn’t had much time to look in on her lately.
“HUN-TING,” Ushu replied proudly, his booming voice a cross between crashing boulders and a deep rasping hiss.
Using my authority, I located Cooper far to the southeast, most likely in the giant river that surrounded Sanctuary’s swamp. There weren’t any Beasts large enough to pose a threat to her, but I suspected Ushu’s pride was more closely related to the initiative and act itself, rather than anything she would face while doing so.
Ushu disappeared back into the lake, sending fresh waves out in every direction and drowning the bank with displaced water.
“That was a dragon!” Terry exclaimed excitedly, “A real fucking dragon!” He stared intensely at the lake, watching Ushu descend deeper until he diverted course toward his cave. “Those were wings right?” Terry asked uncertainly, “You said he could fly?”
I nodded and conjured two barrels of Evolution Elixir. “You might be able to convince him to take you for a ride sometime. But now, it’s time to push for your Evolution.”
Terry warily approached the barrels. His nose twitched and familiarity settled in his eyes. “This the alcohol the Devil gave me?” It was less a question and more of an observation.
I nodded anyway. “Evolution Elixir, it’s a more concentrated form of the Manastones and has the addictive component stripped out of it.”
“She said something like that before...” Terry muttered. “I remember...” He grew pale and trembled in a manner I was all too familiar with. “I needed it...needed it more than anything...The things I did...” A haunted look settled in his eyes.
I knelt on one knee to bring us closer to eye level. “I know what it’s like,” I told him, but didn’t allow my voice to soften. Sympathy wasn’t what he needed right now. “It’s why you swore an Oath never to knowingly consume a raw Manastone without my express permission. Not because I don’t trust you to resist the temptation, but because I know there is only so much you can take. I’m in a position to remove that burden, so I have done it.”
Still pale, Terry nodded to show he understood my intentions.
Sitting on the grass, I removed the lids from both barrels and conjured a simple clay cup for Terry.
Without saying a word, Terry accepted the cup and hesitantly filled it from one of the barrels. However, as he was raising the cup to his mouth, he hesitated and began staring at his distorted reflection.
Taking the other barrel, I raised it to my lips and gulped down half of its contents. By scale, the barrel was comparable to the cup in Terry’s hand. However, the proof of the alcohol inside was not intended for casual consumption.
I had never been a drinker while on Earth. So alcohol had taken a great deal of getting used to. Poison Resistance combined with my high Toughness helped delay serious inebriation almost indefinitely. But the quantities and proof involved still weren’t to be taken lightly.
Eyes wide, Terry stared at me for several moments before returning to his drink. Grimly setting his jaw, he tilted his head back and drank.
Expecting Terry to react to the lethally high-proof alcohol, I was surprised when he drank the whole cup down in one steady pull and then reached for another.
Terry drank with an almost robotic repetition. However, his smaller size quickly caught up with him and he had to relieve himself. Afterwards, the cycle repeated anew.
“Should be dead...” Terry croaked in disbelief, staring at the bottom of the empty barrel.
“If we were on Earth, you would be,” I agreed dryly.
“Was dead...” Terry snickered to himself before scowling darkly.
I promoted Terry to the rank of Underlord and conjured another barrel of Elixir. All the while, watching his Status like a hawk.
With each minor Evolution achieved, the hair on Terry’s head thickened, spreading down the nape of his neck, across his shoulders and down the sides of his face. By no means clean-shaven before, Terry now had ragged sideburns, casting his already hard features in a considerably more intense predatory light.
Terry’s fingernails and toenails were slowly replaced by thick pale claws, and the canines in his mouth had grown sharp and prominently protruded from his gums whenever he opened his mouth.
With less than a third of the second barrel remaining, Terry lowered his cup and stared at the open air.
Several minutes passed in silence.
“You were right...” Terry grunted reluctantly. He dropped the clay club and its remaining contents into the barrel. “I could still back out...” He muttered. “I don’t owe them anything...” Terry momentarily lost his balance before righting himself again, only now with teeth bared in anger. “You can’t make me do this!” He snarled, baring his fangs and glaring at me with savage fury.
“I can’t,” I agreed calmly. “And wouldn’t, even if I could,” I added.
Terry hung his head and clenched his fists so tightly that his claws pierced his own palms and caused them to bleed. “I. Don’t. Want. this!” He hissed, “I don’t owe them shit!” His fists tightened, causing more blood to trickle onto the grass.
“The choice is yours Terry. We can end this all right now,” I insisted firmly.
“Why?!...” Terry growled angrily, “Why are you making this so difficult?!” His shoulders slackened and he unclenched his fists. Cupping his face in his hands, Terry groaned in anger and frustration. All the while smearing blood across his brow and around his eyes. He slumped to his knees and began slowly rocking back and forth.
Looking away from Terry and taking in our surroundings, it felt wrong that such a trying test of character would occur in such a beautiful and magical place. Years of conditioning from television, movies and books had left an expectation for overcast skies at the very least. Although I doubted Terry would remember events in the same manner as myself.
My contemplation was broken by an unexpected alert announcing my increase in level. The new Dungeon training program hadn’t been in effect for very long and there were few individuals in the higher tiers of my Labyrinth. So it came as a pleasant surprise.
The increase in level allowed another Spell to be added to Grimoire of Flesh, but it also provided a new Class Ability. Sorcery.
[(Class Ability: Sorcery.): The progeny of a powerful magical bloodline, mana flows in your veins and may be called upon in your hour of need. The {MP} cost of {Spells} may be substituted for {HP}. The {HP} cost of {Spells} is reduced by {Presence}.]
Reading through the contents of the Class Ability, I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or concerned. Sorcery provided a third means of casting Spells to my repertoire, but it carried greater risks than the cowl settled on my shoulders. It would serve well enough in certain emergencies, but losing HP carried substantial short-term risks.
The only major advantage it provided was that I didn’t need the Kobolds’ Synergy. However, it did provide the means to Summon, said Kobolds in certain emergencies, allowing for the less riskyMP regeneration exploit. Assuming the circumstances allowed, of course.
“Fine!” Terry snarled bitterly. “Fuck it!” He lowered his hands, revealing his bloody face. “I’ll do it!” He raised his head and stared intensely at the notifications only he could see. “Moonsoul Packleader! Accept!”
The hair on Terry’s body began taking on a silvery-white highlight and he grew a half-foot taller in the span of a few seconds. However, nothing else appeared to happen.
Reviewing Terry’s Status information, I was relieved to find that his new Evolution had triggered a change in his Class. Making Terry a Lycan Lord.
At a glance, I recognised Savage Nobility, Birthright and Born to Rule now present as Racial Abilities. Confirming my suspicions that leadership castes were intended to breed true amongst their population and maintain control through raw Strength if necessary.
However, in place of Takesation, which provided me Exp from my subjects and provided increased drop rates for items in exchange. Terry possessed the Pack Bond Class Ability, which generated a small portion of Exp from his subordinates but also allowed Terry to remotely experience the sensations of a subordinate. It carried a MP cost, but to my surprise, the cost could be paid by either party.
Hunter’s Call was similar to Summon Servant but was limited to compatible Species. However, it could also be used as a Lesser Summon of the caster’s Species. Allowing Terry to Summon Lycan Lords if he so chose.
Pack Leader was interesting. Terry could designate a target and award buffs to any allies that attack or are attacked by the target. However, the effects would only be active so long as Terry was in the same general proximity or ‘short range’ of the target. Only one target could be nominated at a time, but there wasn’t a cost associated with the Ability. So it would be up to Terry to make the most of it.
The Class didn’t provide a bonus to Willpower, focusing on Strength and Agility. However, it didn’t have a negative either, so I was willing to take it as a win overall. Besides, there was a decent chance that exercising Born to Rule would develop his Willpower stat over time.
Despite his somewhat drunken state, I could see that Terry was quietly reading through the changes for himself. He was also sobering up at an extraordinary rate as the result of beneficial Synergies.
“What now?...” Terry asked hesitantly.
I pointed toward the lake and conjured a fresh change of clothes and a towel. “You clean yourself up, we get a warm meal inside you, and then we introduce you to your people.”
“My...People...” Terry repeated grimly. He shook his head and waded into the shallows.
Giving Terry some privacy, I mentally set about creating a new Faction and assigning Terry as the Faction leader.
The former dog soldiers of the Confederacy had been Slaves originally. However, I had set them loose in a cluster of isolated territories at Sebet’s request.
There were tens of thousands of them.
Sebet had been very thorough in liberating as many of them from their former Masters as possible. However, unlike most of the other Slaves, the dog soldiers were well and truly broken.
The result of generations of selective breeding in captivity, there was a lethargy to them that largely defied explanation. Free of their Enslavement, the majority defaulted to the bare minimum to keep themselves alive. Eating and drinking, but only if the food and water was provided for them.
A small number had gone outright feral, taking to the wild in their transformed state and hunting anything that moved. Including one another.
All of them had demonstrated extreme xenophobia, attacking or cowering before anything that wasn’t one of their own. According to Sebet’s reports, the same individual had proven capable of either irrespective of the approach she attempted. The only guaranteed method to establish contact and hold a conversation had been through Domination or Seduction.
Given the sheer scale involved, and the ethical ramifications, introducing Terry as a leader and hoping for the best was our only real option. Of course, Sebet and Gric had remained firmly divided on whether Terry would prove equal to the task, and whether he would even accept the responsibility in the first place.
Both of them had read Terry’s mind and explored his memories in detail, and somehow arrived at wildly different conclusions regarding his expected behaviour. However, what surprised me most was who had been proven right.
Still affording Terry a measure of privacy, I stared out across the lake and at the distant figures attending Lash’s garden party.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Taking Sebet’s advice, Lash had hosted the party to network with the highest-ranking Human women amongst our subjects. The intention was to put a face alongside her title, ensuring compliance in future endeavours without the need to rely on the title of Tyrantess. In short, Sebet wanted Lash to establish a base of soft power she could call upon in the future as needed.
It was one of the interesting dichotomies between the other monsters and the Humans. Lash did not need to wine and dine the Kobolds, Gnolls, or anyone else. They already came just short of worshipping the ground we walked on. In the Labyrinths, the strongest ruled. Whether that strength was raw brawn or ruthless cunning, it didn’t really matter. Because the strongest also had an unquestionable duty to serve and protect the tribe.
Humans were different...
To say Humans were ruled by self-interest would perhaps be unkind, but not altogether inaccurate. On a micro-scale, people were generally good. However, at the macro level, politics dominated everything. Manipulation in all its forms was the standard, and it was something Lash would need to learn.
Of course, it came as no real surprise that Jacque, the Doppelganger and a fellow Awakened, had decided to attend as well.
Her presence was not altogether unwelcome. However, I sincerely hoped Jacque would abstain from stirring up too much trouble. As a natural mind reader and something of a provocateur, there was significant potential for political and social strife if she decided to put her mind to it.
On a whim, I Summoned a projection of Jacque.
Devoid of her human disguise, Jacque‘s skin was a pale slate-grey and her hair was shock white.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“I have kids now,” I replied somewhat awkwardly but unable to suppress a smile.
“It’s not just her muscles!” I retorted awkwardly.
Even knowing she couldn’t read my mind without my noticing, I felt a pang of momentary paranoia all the same.
I wasn’t really sure what to say.
“His name is Terry, he’s-” I began to answer but was interrupted.
“Jacque, he’s one of us,” I explained, ignoring the rude interruption. “And he hasn’t heard a single word you have said so far.”
Jacque took an involuntary step backward, immediately on guard.
Terry had been watching us from the beginning, but his embarrassment and curiosity had now turned to caution. “Like us?” Terry repeated, eyeing Jacque cautiously, “You mean, like from Earth? Or just one of your subjects?”
“Both,” I replied with a sigh. “Terry, this is Jacque. She was the first one of us that I met in this world-” I explained.
“What?” I looked back at Jacque in surprise.
Jacque repeated, elaborating slightly.
“Then...Who was the first?” I asked, now profoundly concerned and trying to remember everyone I had encountered on the first floor.
“The...The Tailor?” My throat suddenly felt incredibly dry.
I stiffly shook my head, recalling the confrontation with The Tailor in the swamp. “That evil Spirit that was inside the shopkeeper. She was going to attack Sanctuary, and had already killed dozens of Variants...”
“No...” I felt a fresh sense of loss as I recalled Ushu’s face. “A young Shaman Banished her, but I don’t know where.”
Jacque stiffened.
“You knew her from before?” I demanded incredulously.
Jacque waved me off dismissively.
“Why didn’t you warn me sooner?!” I could feel the anger building inside of me and felt little reason to restrain it.
Jacque flinched and backed away guiltily. She waved at our surroundings expansively. Jacque irritably kicked at the grass and stared worriedly toward the gate. She then stared briefly across the lake before determinedly meeting my eye.
I forced my anger down and took a deep breath. “If you had told me what she was sooner, maybe I could have done something and saved countless lives in the process!”
Jacque retreated a handful of steps, still defiant as ever but with new fear in her eyes.
I took another deep breath and forced myself into a state of calm. There would be time for anger later, but now was the time for decisive leadership. With a thought, I terminated Jacque’s projection and turned to Terry. “I need to go take care of this...”
There must have been something about the way I said it, or perhaps it was the expression on my face because Terry silently back at me with the same fear I had seen in Jacque’s eyes only moments earlier.
I Summoned a projection of Gric and avoided looking at Terry. “When he’s ready, take Terry where he needs to go,” I ordered.
Gric nodded obediently and gave Terry an evaluating stare. “Your will be done, my Tyrant.”
Safe in the knowledge that Gric would see to things in my absence, I created a Spatial Breach and returned to the Hurst Labyrinth.
Preparations for dealing with the blood-seeking bats and other Beasts had been made days prior, and the formerly wild Ogres had been undergoing strict weapon drill training in my absence. They were by no means remotely close to a professional standard, but they seemed to be capable of holding a formation. Which was a marked improvement.
In other circumstances, I may have found it amusing to watch men and women half the Ogres’ size patrolling through their midst and cursing the Ogres like Hollywood movie drill instructors.
It also didn’t escape my notice that several of the largest Ogres had been given temporary field promotions. Which was smart, given the smaller Ogres would do just about anything their larger compatriots demanded of them. Limiting the number of Ogres the instructors needed to cajole and intimidate down to a relative handful.
I opened a second Breach, allowing my thunder warriors to join me within the Labyrinth. If I had been thinking straight from the beginning, I would have gathered them first. However, despite the short notice, they were all accounted for within a few minutes of maintaining the Breach.
“We will begin the Invasion within the hour,” I announced to no one in particular, knowing full well that my voice would carry and the news would be passed along by everyone within earshot.
Sure enough, the open yard of the fortress was quickly entombed in stone as Dwergi Earth Mages enacted their final preparations.
After donning my armour, I spent my remaining time deliberating which Spell should fill the empty position within my Grimoire of Flesh. After giving it a great deal of thought, and weighing my suspicions against the chance that the Grimoire of Flesh was influencing my Chi Affinities, I decided to choose the Fire Lance Spell.
Sure enough, after confirming my choice, I discovered that I had gained the Fire Chi Affinity. However, it was only Rank one, making it considerably lower ranked than the others.
Fire Lance was a rather straightforward Spell, which was why I had chosen it to begin with. One of the first Spells unlocked by Fire Mages, the Spell scaled in destructive power relative to the amount of MP used to power it. Of course, the more MP it was given, the more unstable it would become, requiring more time to stabilise it. Assuming stability was a required feature.
It took the form of a javelin and its general size was scaled according to the level of MP used to create it. A basic Fire Lance was roughly two feet long and an inch thick. Composed of roiling flames, it did little damage to stone surfaces but bit small chunks out of wood or other flammable materials.
Propelled under its own power, the Fire Lance would lose destructive potential as it bled MP while travelling toward its intended target. Or whatever it happened to hit otherwise.
Spending only a single MP and exercising my Fire Chi Affinity, I found that I could keep the Fire Lance suspended in my immediate proximity without the need to release it toward a target. However, it would continue bleeding MP all the while, albeit at a slower rate than it should have done otherwise.
As best I could determine, the Chi I was injecting to control the flames was forcibly retaining the MP as an unintended beneficial side-effect.
Of course, my Fire Affinity was not limited to controlling magical fire. Similar to controlling water, stone and dirt, I could invest Chi into mundane flames and move them through the air. However, the moment I would withdraw my Chi, the flames would die.
With the poisoned and envenomed defences fully prepared, I initiated the Invasion. However, with the fortress completely entombed, there was nothing to see and precious little to do. So I continued practising.
Aware of the need to meet my existing obligations to my soldiers, I crafted several hollowed-out staves that would allow designated officers to use the Summon Servant Spell. In that same vein, I made sure to transfer immediate family members into the Faction to ensure the Spell would work as intended.
Of course, this required consulting extensively with Gric to make sure I was transferring the correct people and that their former Factions’ were alerted to the cause for the transfers.
No doubt, a handful of bureaucrats within each Faction had been given minor heart attacks when I began the reshuffle without warning. However, I doubted they or their superiors would complain after learning who was responsible.
At least, not directly.
I had little doubt that some of the more ambitious Lords would attempt to negotiate for some form of compensation or another. That was a given. I just had to decide what I was willing to give.
Growing increasingly stressed by the knowledge that another psychotic Awakened was on the loose, and had been for quite some time, I wasn’t able to sleep.
There were no guarantees that The Tailor, or Kiki, as Jacque had called it, was even in the Hurst Labyrinth anymore. But I had a way of finding out.
The Deep Ogres’ tribal Spirit had sensed me coming from multiple floors away, which meant Wisp should be able to do the same.
With access to Spells specifically designed to target and control Spirits and Undead, Wisp was uniquely suited to tracking and fighting this Awakened.
As a means of keeping myself busy, and trying to take my mind off the Awakened on the loose, I spent my sleepless hours making magical weapons that would be awarded to my most dedicated soldiers.
Technically, I was making attachments that contained Spells. Which could be paired with existing weapons and whatever Manastones the soldiers had on hand or fueled by the soldiers’ own MP.
Limited by the materials on hand, I only managed to create a hundred or so stone and leather trinkets containing the Fire Lance and Thundering Strike Spells.
Depending on the situation, and the Class of the soldier, the Spells may only provide a small boost in utility. However, I already knew for a fact that archer-type Classes became mobile artillery pieces with the Thundering Strikes Spell.
Of course, my Bodyguards had provided ample evidence that Thundering Strikes was just as devastating when used to aggressively prosecute a melee as well.
Thanks to the Kobolds’ Synergies, I felt no fatigue despite remaining awake for over thirty consecutive hours.
Dismissing the notifications and opening the wall of the fortress with a casual wave of my hand, I warily stomped out of the darkness and into the light of the late afternoon sun.
A month or so earlier, the grisly sight before me may have given me pause. However, surveying the carnage laid forth before me, I felt nothing but impatience.
The steeped walls of the fortress were bedecked with corpses.
Beasts in their thousands had impaled themselves on stone spikes and spines that bristled across the surface of the Fortress walls. Some showed signs of feeding upon and attacking one another before succumbing to blood loss and pain. However, many more lay dead at the foot of the Fortress where their bodies lay scattered about and floated within a wide moat of dark crimson liquid.
Calling it blood wasn’t entirely accurate. It contained a large amount of blood and offal, but it was also heavily diluted with water and impregnated with virulent Poison and Venom.
Any beast that made it past the thorn walls and came into contact with the foul liquid would quickly find itself in the grips of a lethal seizure. Its blood cells breaking apart and its tissue necrotising in mere seconds. If ingested directly, the Poison and Venom would act even faster, liquidating organs before fouling the Beast’s bloodstream with their contents.
If the victims had been human...humanoid...it would have qualified as a war crime.
Ironically, the cleanup would take no time at all. There would be no signs of what had happened and no risks to future occupants or travellers.
That fact somehow made it worse instead of better.
If they had been people, I knew that the sight would hold far greater weight, and the fact that it didn’t, bothered me. Step by step, piece by piece, I was becoming someone I didn’t recognise. I was losing myself, sacrificing a sliver at a time.
“Weakness...” I grunted angrily under my breath.
Weakness was what I had lost. Sacrificed to ensure a future for those who looked to me for protection. Complaining and whining about it like a child wouldn’t solve anything and was just another sign of weakness that had yet to be purged.
I pushed the feelings down, forcing my mind to the task at hand.
Issuing orders for the army to establish a long-term vanguard position on the next floor, I left for the city of Hurst.
Retrieving the markers that would allow entry up to the forty-fifth floor Foothold, I Summoned Wisp and set about explaining my plan.
For the sake of expediency, I would have three of Wisp’s projections take a floor each at a time and search for the Awakened. Once they found her, I would bring in Ophelia, Gric and Sebet, and then we would take the fight to the Awakened directly.
The Awakened wasn’t necessarily undead, but Ophelia was just as capable of fighting Spirits as she was against corporeal targets. A benefit of technically being a Spirit herself.
I would have considered bringing Orphiel, but there was little point. Very nearly the textbook definition of a pretty boy, almost any combat situation where he might prove useful would be better served by Summoning another projection of Ophelia instead.
Bringing Gric and Sebet was just as much out of the sense of redundancy as exploiting their unique Abilities. Possessing all the Spells at my disposal, their projections would be capable of taking risks I just couldn’t justify taking myself.
The same reason why I would be leaving most of my Bodyguards behind.
They were not expendable, but I didn’t have enough MP, or HP, to just Summon projections of them all either. And if I was honest with myself, they probably wouldn’t be all that useful against an evil Spirit. If they didn’t have the Bodyguard Ability, and the job description of the same, I wouldn’t have agreed to take any of them at all.
With Wisp’s projections now searching the Labyrinth, I began recovering my MP in earnest in preparation for Summoning Ophelia. Technically in occupied enemy territory, I decided against using Sorcery to substitute my HP. At this particular moment, it was an unnecessary risk.
Time passed and I had to replace Wisp’s projections.
Shortly after the second wave of Wisp’s projections entered the Labyrinth, one of their number returned.
“Great one,” Wisp rasped in deference, bowing his head respectfully. “It is as you feared. I sense a powerful and malevolent Spirit lurking deeper within the Labyrinth.”
Ophelia’s projection, already restless from the waiting, grew agitated. “Where is it?” She demanded, her copper halo intensifying to an almost blinding white-gold.
With his face hidden in the darkness of the living shadows that formed his robes, Wisp bore Ophelia’s righteous anger with cold indifference. “Deeper,” he repeated coldly before turning to address me once more. “I must return if I am to determine the target’s precise location...”
“Very well,” I agreed, waving toward the pile of tokens laid out on the floor. “Exercise your best judgement.”
“Of course, Great One,” the cowl of Wisp’s robes bobbed in respect. He dropped a token for the fifteenth floor onto the smaller pile and retrieved a new token. Without saying another word, he silently retreated through the portal.
I looked pointedly at Gric and Sebet, “Pass news along to the other two and have them return so they can move on to different floors,” I ordered.
Sebet and Gric both bowed obediently, retrieved tokens of their own and disappeared through the portal.
Separating the tokens for floors that had already been searched, I anxiously considered those that remained.
Depending upon which floor the Awakened was staying on, there was the distinct probability that fighting them would carry exponentially greater risks. Firstly, because the monsters native to the floor would be hostile, and as a corporeal being, that would mean that they would pose a danger to me but not necessarily to the Spirit.
Secondly, surviving on a high-level floor would strongly suggest that the other Awakened was capable of handling monsters of that level without particular difficulty. Or at the very least, a high chance of taking significant damage before being able to retreat from an unfavourable battle.
Lastly, because I wasn’t certain what level of wild monster I could handle in a straight fight.
Dominating monsters on the tenth floor through raw Strength and size was one thing, but for all I knew, a monster from the twentieth floor might be capable of doing the exact same thing to me.
The projections returned shortly after Sebet and Gric left. Sparing only the time to bow their heads, they discarded their previous tokens before taking up new ones and leaving through the portal again.
The longer I waited, the more I could feel my nerves beginning to falter under the weight of the unknown.
Wisp’s projections returned twice more, the most ambitious taking a token to the twenty-eighth floor. Four full floors ahead of the other two projections. However, that projection returned only a handful of seconds later, scythe in hand and radiating an aura of cold hostility.
“Great One!” Wisp’s rasp had taken on an intensity and urgency otherwise entirely alien to his character. “I have found the malevolent Spirit!” The blade of his scythe made a high-pitched keening noise as if it had been struck by a tuning fork.
Ophelia’s wings flared to life, momentarily blinding me with their brilliance and intensity. When I regained my sight, she was already gone, and so were the others. Leaving only myself and my Bodyguards.
Snatching up a token to the twenty-eighth floor, I felt a final surge of hesitation. What I intended to do, what I was doing, was stupid and reckless. I knew this. However, I had witnessed firsthand what other Awakened were capable of when they set their minds toward destruction and violence. Failing to act wouldn’t make me complicit, but the decision would no doubt haunt me all my life.
Tightening my fist around the token, I took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.
This was a responsibility I had taken upon myself, and now I was going to see it through.
***** Maera ~ Twenty-Eighth floor ~ Hurst Labyrinth *****
Weary beyond the bounds of her mortal flesh, Maera fought with every scrap of her flagging will just to draw a new breath and continue serving as Conduit. She was dying, had been from the beginning. To serve as Conduit was to die. It was the law of the exchange. The price demanded for power.
Maera could feel her body unravelling, unable to support the immense strain demanded of it.
“I will make it quick,” the thing that was not her father promised, its rotten breath reeking of corruption and a foulness that threatened to steal the final dregs of life from her body.
With an effort Maera believed she no longer possessed, she slowly opened her eyes and locked gazes with the rotting corpse of what had once been her father, and the corrupted Spirit that now inhabited it. “No...” Maera croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The once handsome, but now sallow features of her father’s face contorted in fury. “You are thinking this trap will hold me?!” The malevolent Spirit snarled, disgorging small chunks of putrid rotting flesh from the ragged hole torn in her father’s throat. “No! It is failing! We know this!”
“It...It. Doesn’t. Need. To. Hold.” Maera wheezed determinedly, “Just. Last. Enough...”
“No escaping me,” the malevolent Spirit sneered contemptuously. “Just making me HUNGRIER.”
Maera felt the impossible emptiness in its words and nearly collapsed then and there.
“Iris...” Despite the bloody tears running from her eyes, nose and ears, speaking the name of the tribe’s guardian Spirit aloud returned a fleeting sense of vitality even as her body was coming apart at the seams. What had changed? The thing that was not her father had backed away from the barrier and was intensely scanning the surrounding woodland. Broken fingers twitching in anticipation or fear, it scowled and glared at Maera anew. “Let. Me. Out!” It demanded quietly, all the while anxiously glancing at the gathering shadows around them. A Spirit so powerful that it had managed to overwhelm the entire circle of elders, more powerful than Iris, was afraid? “LET ME OUT!” The malevolent Spirit howled, the rotten limbs of its stolen vessel tearing apart and distending to reveal black oozing pitch seething beneath the surface. “LET! ME! OUT!” Unsure and uncaring who was responsible, Maera laughed and drew the bindings of the prison tighter. Every second she held the Spirit in place brought its pursuers that much closer and while Maera had precious little left to give, she had nothing else left to lose. “I! SAID! LET! ME! OUT!” The malevolent Spirit screamed in rage, now towering over Maera in the grotesque remnants of what had once been her father’s corpse. Flesh as black as midnight and with limbs as crooked as tree branches, the thing stooped with a hunched back glaring at Maera with empty soulless eyes and wide yawning mouth full of long needle-like teeth. “Everyone you love. Everyone you know.” Its face drew closer, coming within less than an inch of the barrier. “I. Will. Eat. Them. All.” A pale bloated tongue slithered over its lips and teeth, leaving streaks of dark pus and blood. Maera knew it would cost her, but she was past caring. Through Iris, she could sense other Spirits drawing nearer. Even if she collapsed the barrier then and there, it would make little difference now. “No,” Maera wheezed spitefully, her grin so wide she could feel the fragile skin of her lips tearing apart. With an abominable shriek, the thing lashed out, crashing its misshapen twisted limbs against the Barrier with all the force and fury it could muster. Once. Twice. Thrice. The Barrier held, each time chipping away at Maera’s faltering vitality. On the fourth strike, Maera felt the final piece of herself collapse, no longer able to support the strain demanded of the Conduit. As the final fragments of her consciousness disintegrated, Maera had one final glimpse of the tribe’s guardian Spirit, Iris, flowing out from her body, assuming her true spectral feline form and leaping at the malevolent spirit with claws and teeth bared.