I allowed myself a scant few moments of blissful peace before speaking.

“Where are the others?” I asked. I didn’t know for sure, having not managed to catch a glimpse of them near the Champion’s carcass, despite my best efforts.

“Near the spire, no doubt,” Glare cut in. “Last I saw, in any case. Our companions were in the midst of surveying the area for bounty. On that note, we’d do well to regroup,” Glare added. “We’d best not tarry long on our own, lest–”

“Lest Quarrel take everything for herself,” Rover growled. Glare frowned.

“Lest they find trouble without us,” he corrected.

And so, without delay, I set off for the jungle’s heart once more. It wasn’t far from our current position, and we’d be able to reach it soon enough. My two comrades fell in line beside me, continuing to converse as we made our way.

“Yet your concerns are legitimate,” Glare agreed, to my surprise. He nodded slowly, gazing off into the distance, fixating on something I couldn’t make out, or perhaps nothing at all. “That woman is a problem.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Evidently he hadn’t, as I’d somewhat hoped, forgotten the events of last night. And I’d so enjoyed our unity, short lived though it was.

“Yes, well,” I hedged, “we’ll all have to try our best to tread lightly around her in future, I suppose–”

“No.”

Glare’s slightly enhanced voice boomed from my side, making me glance his way. The Immolator narrowed his eyes at me, speaking firmly.

“I do not say this lightly, lord Hero,” he insisted. “Nor are my words born of bias. I will admit to my own innocence, in matters of the World Titan, but not when it comes to leading Blessed. I have seen discord tear apart my fair share of battalions from within.”

“She picks fights with everyone,” Rover said, supporting him. What a surprise. “All the time. We never have a moment’s rest.”

“She clearly mistrusts Aristocrats–,” I started.

“She picks fights with me! I’m not even a ‘Crat!” The wolfman pressed. I drew breath, about to respond, then paused. I did want to preserve our group’s unity, but right now it looked like defending Quarrel would only make me enemies. Instead, I spoke carefully.

“Well, what do you suggest?” I asked, glancing between the both of them.

“We must address this now,” Glare insisted. “Whilst we can. Whilst we still have the chance to. I say again–I’m a novice to the Dungeon, but” he spread one arm wide, gesturing to all that encompassed us.

“Consider the difficulty posed by this floor alone. Clearly, these exotic floors won’t give us the time to organize ourselves. Each encounter, our foes attacked us swiftly, concertedly, and absolutely without warning. Consider now, that the second floor stands to pose twice again the risk.”

The High Inquisitor’s words were well-thought and articulated. He spoke with the rare charisma of one who knew his orders would be followed, but sought to convince his soldiers anyway. He reminded me much of Aldwyn, in that regard.

The memory left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Mark my words, upon this delve unpreparedness will be our end. Hesitation, confusion, disunity. I have been behind enemy lines before. These are the things that will serve as our undoing, not some lack of strength.”

Glare paused a moment for effect, still holding my gaze, allowing me to realize something. Right now, this entire speech was only for my benefit. He was only trying to convince me. After all, Rover was already on his side. And would be, no doubt, unto the ends of the earth, considering how starstruck the lycan was with him. But Glare wanted my support, too.

It was a shrewd move. After all, I’d struck the final blow on the Champion. At the moment, my word carried more sway than anyone else’s. Moreover, I was the only one who hadn’t yet lost their temper over the course of our miserable journey. The only one who, incredibly, Quarrel didn’t seem to take issue with. If even I spoke against her, there would be no argument.

Not a rational one, anyway.

“We must confront her now,” Glare finished, Rover nodding vehemently alongside him.

The Immolator watched my face carefully as I turned away and chewed on my lip thoughtfully. I didn’t disagree with the man, really. But then, I didn’t particularly care for Quarrel, one way or the other. Her experience in delving was a boon, but offset considerably by her personality. The thing was, I’d had ample time to hear Quarrel’s song before this, to learn her mind. I doubted she’d take well to confrontation, given her demeanor.

“And if she dismisses us?” I hedged, tentatively voicing my concerns.

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“Then–”

“Then she can leave,” Glare declared, interrupting Rover. “All the more reason to decide this now, while exiting the Labyrinth is still possible. If she refuses to see reason, then I see no reason for us to continue with her. Unless, you truly believe us stronger with her at our side?”

Did I?

Quarrel’s Blessing and combat expertise was nothing to write home about. It was her knowledge that made her valuable. Aside from perhaps Vox, none of us truly had any idea what to expect from the innards of the World Titan.

But then–how much had her expertise really helped us, concretely? So far, not at all. And if her previous words were to be believed, then it didn’t really matter anyway. After all, Quarrel herself had said that not even the most experienced delvers could predict the exotic floors.

Before I had any more opportunity to ruminate on the matter, we’d reached the metallic clearing’s center.

The once-glorious spire now sat in ruin, toppled and shattered into countless metallic shards that splayed around and about the corpse of its once equally mighty Champion. Every which way were macerated monkeys, melted mechanical wasps, and fractured fragments of crystals previously brimming with sea-green Entropy, now dead and dull. A fortune, shattered to pieces.

It was too quiet.

I’d become used to machinery’s steady, rhythmic humm and whir over the past half-day, and the abject silence now unsettled me. With the jungle’s original denizens slaughtered and the last of the machines defunct, the entire ecosphere was now completely mute. In fact, likely the only living things in all of the first floor were myself and my companions. The sky was cloudless, and the sun had yet to dip below the horizon, but I felt a chill run down my spine.

My teammates were nowhere to be seen.

I scanned the wreckage in confusion, Glare and Rover mimicking me, the latter clambering upon the serpent’s carcass for a better vantage point, the former ascending into the stagnant air. I couldn’t make anything out.

“I can’t see anything!” Rover called out from my left, echoing my thoughts. “I don’t understand…they were right here! Right here! Not, not moments ago!”

“There!” He called out, suddenly, pointing from up above to a location beyond my view. Clambering up and over the veritable mountain of steel scales that had made up the Titanoboa’s machine carapace to join Rover, I saw it.

A small hole, not much larger than a mundane well, leading straight down into the earth.

It was black as pitch. My enhanced eyesight couldn’t come close to piercing it, and I wasn’t close enough to perceive it in the song. The last thing I wanted to do was jump in.

“There!” Rover repeated. His ears were pointed straight up, and swiveled slightly to face the pit. “Voices! They must have ventured inside!”

I eyed the chasm doubtfully. Glare’s were narrowed in concern.

“I don’t remember this being here before…,” the mage muttered, his eyes flashing with white light. “And my vision can’t penetrate it,” he continued, frowning.

“My hearing can, just fine,” Rover reassured, waving off the Immolator’s concerns. “They’re in there. No doubt about it. Come on!”

“What, jump down?” I asked, still hesitant. “I mean, are we sure–”

“Oh, come on!” Rover said, shaking his head. “They’re already inside it, all of them! I’m sure it’s safe!” He chuckled, glancing eagerly at Glare in particular. “There’s no need to fear.”

“And besides,” Rover said, clasping a fist to his chest, before belting out, “To be heroic is to be fearless!” With that, the lycan abruptly leapt forth, catapulting himself into the seemingly bottomless pit with a howl and instantly disappearing from view.

I stared down at the pitch dark hole that had just swallowed my companion, goggling in disbelief despite myself.

“That’s not really what I meant,” Glare said, after a moment’s pause. I snapped my mouth shut and turned to look at him.

“By my speech,” the High Inquisitor continued, almost sheepishly. “Earlier?”

“Um, yeah,” I replied, unhelpfully. I turned back to look at the pit.

“That is to say,” he continued. “I didn’t so much mean fearlessness to be heroic, more that to fight despite the fear of death is–”

“I got it,” I interrupted. “It was a good speech.”

“Er–right,” Glare said. “My thanks.”

We both stared down into the pit.

“He may have taken it too literally,” Glare admitted, after another moment.

“He worships you,” I replied, causing Glare to regard me with confusion. I snorted.

“You mean to tell me you hadn’t noticed? No offense, but I’d have thought you’d be well used to such a thing, what with the songs and all.”

He frowned, looking back towards where the impressionable Blessed in question had disappeared.

“I…,” Glare stopped himself with barely a word. He didn’t seem upset, per say, more…deep in thought. I shrugged, turning away and shaking out my limbs, cricking my neck, preparing myself mentally for what I was about to do.

“My understanding of my own reputation, such as it is, exists secondhand. I work with the Inquisition,” Glare said, quietly. He wasn’t making eye contact. “Exclusively. Fraternization with those outside the Faith is…discouraged. Especially given our mission.” His jaw was tight. One of his fists slowly clenched and relaxed.

“Well,” I replied, shrugging once more, “you may want to keep it in mind, going forward. That is, if we even make it out of here alive.”

“Indeed,” Glare replied. I only meant to lighten the tension, but he nodded seriously at me. He took a deep, deep breath, letting it out slowly before speaking.

“I am a part of the Inquisition…no longer,” he murmured, raising his eyebrows as if the thought had just occurred to him. Then he chuckled lightly. “If you’ll permit me to be honest, lord Hero, I–,”

The High Inquisitor worked his jaw for a moment, apparently deeply considering his next words.

“Well, I…I appreciate having you alongside us. Truly. All glories in combat aside, your presence here, it, um…” he tilted his head slightly, still looking my way.

“It relaxes me,” he admitted, at last. “You…remind me somewhat of a man I once knew.” His voice shrank, trembling slightly.

“Long ago…”

“A good man,” he added quickly and sincerely, this time at normal volume. Then again, I wondered if Glare had a single insincere bone in his body. He, more than any other of the Blessed I’d met so far, reminded me of the heroes I’d read about. Indeed, perhaps my own name would be better suited in his hands. The accomplished warrior’s praise meant much to me, but instead of thanking him, I asked;

“How so?”

“You’re normal,” he responded, almost instantly.

Before I could reply to his strange compliment, the Immolator raised himself gracefully into the sky and, much like Rover before him, dropped unceremoniously down into the hole. Leaning slightly upon Draconic Blood to empower me, I followed him, leaping smoothly forwards in a shallow arc.

Into the unknown.