Jeff and his escort moved on, through a high doorway and into the main structure of the Citadel. Behind him he heard the master-at-arms, Hazinarr, dismissing the practicing troops. Jeff’s heightened senses detected the man was following in their footsteps.
A long hall spread out before them, the space buzzing with activity, populated by yet more soldiers. Neat rows of beds indicated that the room had been repurposed into a barracks by the army.
Up until this moment, Jeff hadn’t fully considered how he would locate Fracta, extract her from Sharkey’s clutches and navigate their escape from Tantalus to advance in the Tournament. The recent surge in his stats, and the victories from his relentless dungeon runs had served to inflate his confidence. But as he penetrated deeper into the Citadel, through each successive defensive layer, and witnessed the sheer numbers of Sharkey’s forces arrayed against him, a flicker of doubt began to take root at the back of his mind. Was that confidence deserved, or was it hubris?
His iron resolve began to weaken.
Jeff thought back to the Baron’s final warning, about how there was no room for sentiment in the System. Was his attempt to save a friend, driven by empathy and comradeship, simply too big a risk? Jeff wondered for the first time whether he was putting himself and Earth in danger by trying to help a member of another species. Were his human emotions unnecessary baggage—actually an impediment to his survival in this ruthless Tournament?
Perhaps the only way forward to ensure success in the new post-System world was to discard those last vestiges of feeling, to become colder, harder and a helluva lot stronger in order to achieve victory.
Should he, at this point even be looking for Fracta at all? Shouldn’t he instead be scouting for the easiest way through to the next stage of the Tournament, rather than endangering everything for an ally?
As he agonized over the moral dilemma, he was for some reason suddenly reminded of his brief conversation with Kjel and Dijana, the Autochs on the ship. Recalling that there was a Resistance, that there were other people in this cold and cruel System-universe attempting to fight back against the Vogels, Jeff reminded himself that not every race had sacrificed their ideals and morality along the way.
Jeff felt his attitudes begin to shift into place, his moral compass swinging firmly back into the correct position. He finally rejected the Baron’s honest but cold-hearted advice. There had to be more to life than survival and self-interest. Even though he had not sworn any kind of oath, Jeff felt in his heart that aligning himself with any Resistance movement was the natural choice for him, and Earth.
Sacrificing his ideals for expediency and ditching his friends during their time of need was anathema to Jeff, and he realized deep down that if he didn’t at least make an attempt to rescue Fracta he would never be able to forgive himself.
Besides, he reasoned to himself, having a friend’s back could be mutually beneficial. After all, during their battle on the mountainside they had overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. She had fought loyally by his side, even carrying him up to the summit when he was struck down by the Roc Matriarch's curse.
His resolve once again solid, Jeff continued onwards, meticulously observing and memorizing the defenses and layout.
Congratulations! Your Covert Surveillance Skill has now reached Level 2
Up a grand staircase they ascended, climbing seven flights to the very top of the Citadel. As they ascended, Jeff saw that each floor’s landing branched off into multiple doors.
Though he kept a constant lookout, he had so far been unable to determine where the exit portal leading out of Tantalus was located.
Reaching the top of the building, he was unceremoniously pushed, none too gently, through a set of doors and onto a large terrace, surrounded by torchlit battlements. The platform offered panoramic views of the Citadel’s outer walls and surrounding high spindly crystal towers, with the lights of the nearby Tantalus town twinkling in the distance. A slight breeze blew across the ramparts, a welcome respite from the humidity below.
The far corner of the terrace was occupied by three figures, holding court on a raised area that had been decked out with plush carpets and fine furniture. Intricate tapestries hung from the surrounding walls, softening the harsh grey and black architecture of the building. The three creatures were busy presiding over an open-air courtroom or tribunal of some kind.
Jeff’s guard pushed him down onto a long bench by the door. There he joined a long queue of other prisoners seated, obviously waiting their turn to be seen.
Jeff settled back on the bench, intently observing the proceedings.
To the right of the group, seated on a straight-backed chair, was a figure shrouded in dark robes, radiating an intense aura of Death that unmistakably marked them as a member of the Undead. A voluminous cowl and a mesh fabric veil partially obscured their features, but Jeff could make out a pair of grey, gleaming eyes gazing down at the supplicant before them. There was a brutal coldness in that gaze, reminiscent of a deadly bird of prey eying its next meal.
NAME: Retrenka
RACE: Vboloex (Sempiternal Empire)
Grade: H
HIT POINTS (HP): Hidden
MANA POINTS (MP): Hidden
REWARD: N/A
Total Attribute Points (TAP): Hidden
Jeff was intrigued by the presence of a member of the Sempiternal Empire here at Tantalus, and he speculated on its role within the Citadel. He knew from his studies and conversations with the Bone Baron that an uneasy alliance existed between the Vogels and the Undead, more a marriage of convenience than a genuine partnership. Noticing Retrenka’s relatively high Grade, he determined to be cautious.
Sitting behind a simple wooden desk to the left of the Undead representative was an Ejdar, instantly recognizable by its distinctly ruddy complexion.
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NAME: Leypal
RACE: Ejdar
Grade: I
HIT POINTS (HP): Hidden
MANA POINTS (MP): Hidden
REWARD: N/A
Total Attribute Points (TAP): Hidden
On a desk in front of the Ejdar lay a softly glowing console, its screen awash with data streams and images. Clearly in an administrative role, the carmine-colored imp murmured something to his companions in a low voice, reading from the display.
In the middle of the trio, reclining on an ornate chaise longue like some Roman emperor, was Sharkey, undeniably the leader of the group.
Sharkey’s goat-like head was covered in rough, white fur. Black, twisting horns spiraled from his sloping forehead and between them he bore a red glowing pentagram tattoo, marking him as an existing System-dweller, not a new arrival. His overall physiology was roughly humanoid, but his wool-covered legs had an extra joint and ended in cloven hooves.
On a low slung coffee table in front of him rested a large iron bowl or cauldron, filled to the brim with a roiling red liquid mana that Jeff did not recognize. The cauldron itself fascinated him—inlaid into its protruding rim and spiraling down around its outer surface was a dense line of silvery engraved runes, their intricate patterns mesmerizing in their complexity, and somehow ominous.
With [Mana Essence] active, Jeff ws able to see ruby red lines of force streaking from each of the runes etched into its sides. Some of these lines stretched out to the Contestants on the terrace, connecting the brands on their foreheads with the corresponding runes etched into the cauldron. Other lines disappeared down through the stone floor of the terrace, likely connecting the device with the inhabitants of the Citadel. However, most of the lines of force streaked out in one direction—across the ramparts and straight towards Tantalus town.
ITEM: Crucibulum Agonix (Runic Ritual Cauldron of Suffering)
ITEM TYPE: Dual Purpose. Mana Storage / Weapon
ITEM CLASS: Peak, Grade G
REQUIREMENTS: None
EXPANDABLE: Yes
DESCRIPTION: This expertly crafted runic energy cauldron serves as both an instrument of control over small to medium sized population centers, as well as a Pain mana storage system. It can store up to 10,000 Pain MP. Current storage level: 6732/10000
Sharkey’s amber-colored eyes bore down on the quivering Contestant, their rectangular, slot-like pupils widening slightly as he gently caressed the glowing cauldron before him.
NAME: Sharkey
RACE: Capram
Grade: I
HIT POINTS (HP): Hidden
MANA POINTS (MP): Hidden
REWARD: N/A
Total Attribute Points (TAP): Hidden
Once again, Jeff felt that same primal chill he had experienced, back when he first encountered an Ejdar. The sinister trio before him seemed straight out of a 70’s horror movie—a gathering of demons.
“If you haven’t the Coin, then you take your chances with the fighting pits, or rejoin the general population in town. Of course, there is still the possibility of an extension on your line of credit. Perhaps some more of those small islands,…?”
A murmured conversation ensued between Sharkey and the Ejdar, during which the red-skinned gnome consulted its console. Finally, Sharkey grunted and addressed the pale creature before him again.
“Yes, the Balleaniz islands. Let’s say the three southernmost remaining, to complete the set in Vogel hands…”
The supplicant was a small, frail-looking figure, standing no more than five feet in height. Its peculiar outer integument had a glossy white sheen, resembling polished ceramic or plastic more than any organic material. The creature stood quivering before the tribunal, blinking its huge mother-of-pearl compound eyes, which glistened in its beach ball-sized head.
Jeff listened to the conversations, frowning as he pieced together the fragments of information he overheard. He was slowly starting to build a hypothesis about the setup in Tantalus, one which had serious implications for the entire Tournament.
He scrutinized the creature’s seriously underpowered stats.
NAME: Joh-Quillee
RACE: Squinberrel
Grade: J
HIT POINTS (HP): 60/60
MANA POINTS (MP): 20/20
REWARD: 240 Coins
Total Attribute Points (TAP): 142
Shuffling its feet, the feeble-looking creature attempted to bargain with Sharkey, pleading in a nasal, whining voice.
“Small islands!” The creature spluttered in shock. “There are millions of people living on that archipelago… Please, I beg you Lord Sharkey! Give me at least a year of food credit for each island, and also, I need assurances that my own people on the Tarinn continent will be protected…”
Gaining confidence, the pale creature continued, “…and I want a com-link token thrown in.”
With a sinking sensation, the penny finally dropped. Jeff realized from the content of the conversation what the setup in the Crystal Citadel was—Sickeningly, these ‘World Champions’ were bartering away segments of their planetary populations to extend their own survival.
Divide and Conquer. An age-old, tried and tested tactic employed by wannabe empire-builders since the dawn of time… Jeff thought about it some more, his mind racing with the implications, and he realized that the Contestants couldn’t be wholly condemned for their actions. Beyond the blatant self-preservation, there was a deeper, more altruistic factor at play. By prolonging their existences on Tantalus, they were attempting to delay the inevitable—the complete subjugation or annihilation of their species.
But Jeff wondered, if by some miracle a Contestant managed to progress from Tantalus, navigate through the subsequent rounds of the Tournament and secure their species’ entry into the Prime League, would the Vogels ever return the ceded territory? He doubted it.
Sharkey smiled widely, revealing long, decidedly ungoatlike incisors. Despite the jovial sounding chortle that escaped from his mouth, there was no warmth in his voice, only malice.
“You are hardly in a position to make demands, my friend. Unless you have somehow managed to improve your attributes since last we spoke…”
Sharkey made a show of studying the poor alien’s stats, which were pathetic even to Jeff’s eyes. How had the physically weak-looking alien made it through the training phase and the mountain ascent? Suspicion grew as he recalled his grim battle with the hordes of goblins in the combat mini-dungeon. Something didn’t add up.
Abruptly Sharkey discarded his amicable pretense. Grunting, he sat up from his reclined position, tightly gripping the glimmering edges of the cauldron on the table before him as he spoke.
“Pitiful… Still an utter weakling, I see. The Squinberrel…Though through some ridiculous bureaucratic oversight you have managed to avoid being placed on the Register of Proscribed Species…”
Sharkey paused briefly, casting a pointed look at the red-skinned Ejdar beside him. The Ejdar kept his head down, busying himself at his console, refusing to engage.
“…We all know what you truly are, Sharkey continued, his voice laden with contempt. “Walk though you do on two legs, like us, you are merely a disgusting sub-species of the insect world. You’re highly fortunate the Vogels don’t treat you like the bugs you really are and exterminate the lot of you.”
Retrenka, the Undead representative, added nothing to the conversation, the hooded figure staring impassively at the dejected Contestant. Jeff recalled from his conversations with the Bone Baron that while the Sempiternal Empire was not as actively hostile to insectoids as their Vogel allies, they had little interest in engaging with them. Invertebrates, for some reason, did not make good candidates for conversion to the ranks of the Undead.
Eliciting no response from the quivering white-shelled creature before him, Sharkey sighed theatrically. Shaking his head in mock disappointment, he gripped the edges of the cauldron firmly and activated its function, with devastating effect.
A single rune etched into the side of the device began to glow ominously. Simultaneously, the brand mark seared into the creature’s domed forehead ignited, flaring to life, the rune pulsing and blazing a deep fiery red as its link with the cauldron was activated. An uncomfortable droning sound, almost beyond the range of hearing emanated from the cauldron as it operated, adding to the oppressive atmosphere on the terrace.
The effect on Joh-Quillee was catastrophic. He let out a high-pitched shriek and slumped to his knees, his face contorted in a rictus of unbearable agony.
Jeff, with the heightened awareness supplied by [Mana Essence], discerned the red-tinged particles of what he assumed to be pure Pain mana, now actively flowing back along the link connecting the slumped Contestant to Sharkey and the magical cauldron.
Paying close attention, Jeff noted that Sharkey seemed to be actively feeding on the Pain mana, absorbing a portion of it as it was produced by the steadily burning brand on Joh-Quillee’s forehead. Excess energy appeared to transfer from the rim of the cauldron into Sharkey’s fingers. Jeff observed that the cauldron’s MP storage had risen to over 7000 points as a result of the transfer.
With another pass of his hand over the now steaming cauldron, Sharkey deactivated its function. The rune on Joh-Quillee’s forehead ceased glowing, leaving the pitiful creature a sobbing wreck on the floor.
“Now, let’s try again shall we?” quipped Sharkey, renewing the ‘negotiations’ with a sardonic grin.
What a dick… Jeff thought to himself as he watched.