I landed more harshly than I’d anticipated, nearly falling to my knees as I did so. The hole was not nearly so deep as I’d imagined, nor as it had appeared from above.
Rejoining an equally surprised Rover and Glare with little in the way of ceremony, the three of us forged our path cautiously forward, the fairly muted sound of conversation becoming ever-clearer as we did so.
The ambiance was not the only thing changing with our progression, however.
The silvery-blue tint of polished steel walls and roughshod flooring was swiftly making way for a more whitish complexion, the metal that surrounded us shifting its very composition as we meandered through. The organization of the corridor morphed alongside it, initially haphazard struts and spikes of uneven steel slowly contorting themselves into a hallway that, in addition to being pure white, was…clean. Neat. Perfectly square, with small green lights inserted at key points in the ceiling.
Clearly designed for humans. I didn’t know what to make of that.
Glare glanced about every which way, eyes flaring constantly, clearly unsettled.
“I feel blind,” he muttered. “Can’t see through any of this…” His visage contorted in frustration. “Something in the metal, perhaps, or…I don’t know.” He looked my way.
“I don’t like it,” he declared. He’d probably never experienced such a thing before. I opened my mouth to reply, but Rover spoke up before I could do so.
“They’re right up here!” he said, gesturing forwards, as if I couldn’t hear the voices for myself. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache spike between my temples. Once more, we’d walked into an argument amongst our fellows.
Though this one, thank the Gods, seemed at least more civil than before.
No one was shouting at another, their voices scarcely even elevated. I raised my eyebrows. Perhaps the Priest himself had answered my prayers. Instead, our three companions were, at least somewhat, calmly conversing with one another.
Even more thankfully, they all appeared intact. Ludicrously so. Not only were each still very much alive, they appeared almost undamaged, save for a few singes on the tufts of Quarrel’s leathers.
Together, they stood before a massive set of all-white doors.
The doors were mechanical, sleek and smooth, similar in nature to those I’d beheld in the heart of Uther’s demesne, and well in-keeping with the large corridor’s general aesthetic. Above them were written words, formed from shaped lights of the same bright, sterilized green as those that had lit our way:
Floor 2.
Other than that, though, the doors were devoid any manner of marking. I tilted my head, scanning them up and down while the conversation caught up to me.
“–no handle, but there’s got to be–”
“And I’m telling you, no. I’m telling you right now, no. Once you start a floor, you can’t leave until you finish it, and if we walk through those doors–”
“I understand, Quarrel, but it has to be here somewhere, so maybe if we just take a second to double back, then we’ll–”
“NO! What fucking part of no doesn’t your thick fucking–”
“HEY!” I yelled, clapping far more loudly than necessary, drawing startled looks from all five of my companions, even those I’d entered the tunnel with. Thaum looked worried and surprised, though her song calmed considerably upon seeing me. Quarrel’s was far more tense, almost downright frantic. Vox’s seemed perturbed, too, but there was something beneath his anxiety, this time.
“I’m pleased to see you’re all alright,” I said, shooting each one of them, individually, what I hoped was a good approximation of Glare’s trademark smile, though fixating a touch longer on the sorceress.
“You in particular, lady Thaum,” I continued, this time speaking to the Master directly. “That was incredible, what you did. Incredibly brave. You saved three lives. There’s no doubt about it.”
I meant it, too. Her actions truly had impressed me. Over the entire day, in fact. The young Aristocrat had well proven her utility, strength and courage. Moreover, though, she’d allayed my principal concerns; demonstrating the capability to act decisively, to shed her own fear and self-doubt and rise to the occasion when necessary.
Quarrel was far too antagonistic. Rover was inexperienced and naive. And, despite his obvious power and knowledge, I couldn’t bring myself to trust Vox, not really. I still got some sort of…bad feeling about him. He’d so far done nothing to harm me, so I didn’t know why precisely.
But I knew whom I did trust. Glare and Thaum. They were the two I wanted by my side. I wouldn’t need to convince the others of the former’s capability, but the latter was another story.
Now, it was time for me to take a stand.
Thaum’s eyes widened, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She glanced back and forth nervously at the others, her song palpitating, her cheeks coloring slightly.
“Yes, well,” she waffled, “I-it was nothing, anyone in my position, being the leader after all, I lost some shades, many shades, it’s true, but–”
“Indeed!” I interrupted the young sorceress’s distracted rambling, loudly. “Well said, milady!” Thaum looked at me in confusion. I crossed my arms, eyeing my other companions firmly.
“Your actions were, indeed, those of a worthy leader. And I, for one, say now is the time to make such a title official,” I declared, allowing the song to seep slightly into my final words, which hung in the sterile, silent air.
Rover looked surprised. Glare did, too, but nodded my way after a brief moment, content with my decision. Quarrel was clearly furious, but at least didn’t say anything. And given Glare’s disposition, I doubted she’d be a problem for me much longer, anyways.
But Vox was staring at me intensely.
It was the same look he’d given me long ago, when we’d sat around the light of a dying fire. Like he was trying to figure me out. Like there was some great secret about me. There was, but did he know it? How close was he to figuring me out?
His demeanor unsettled me.
Back then, his song’s surface had been as smooth as a tranquil pond. This time, though, it was active. Its many tendrils probed about the space around him almost violently, drawing towards me again, and again, each time being sharply yanked back. They were aggressive, yet hesitant. Irate, yet…fearful?
The well-dressed man, himself, didn’t say anything at all. So I continued.
“Excellent,” I stated, just as staunchly as before, walking over to the young sorceress and slamming a clenched fist against my chest. Thaum’s slight blush turned into a forest fire, dyeing her entire visage deep scarlet. Before she could stammer out a reply, I finished my pledge, bowing slightly.
“I look forward to fighting alongside you.”
With little delay, Glare echoed my words and gestures, followed almost immediately by Rover. Quarrel didn’t move, but rolled her eyes, and nodded towards our newly-crowned leader. Vox, still staring right at me with burning intensity, distractedly slapped his chest, as well.
What, in Priest’s name, was going on with him? Just what was he thinking?
“You…you…,” Thaum sputtered, gulped, and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, her doubt was gone. She regarded me with a similar fervor to Vox, but there was something markedly different behind her gaze. Something I couldn’t quite discern.
“You honor me,” she said, without a hint of tremulousness. “I will work hard to live up to your praise.”
I hid a sigh of relief. Thaum was no Aldwyn, and our delve was far from over, but finally, finally, fucking finally, it seemed as if the worst was behind us.
At last, we were on the right path.
I smiled at Thaum. Surprisingly, she smiled right back. A big, broad beam that made her viridescent eyes shift from eerie, and occult to…endearing? It made me sad I’d never seen her do so before.
One, two, three.
My head snapped up, towards the ceiling. Vox startled, as well, his unnerving stare belatedly quit in favor of glancing uncertainly around the room. Our eyes met. His widened, then narrowed. All of a sudden, something in his song changed.
Its frenetic movements stopped cold, one hundred disparate tendrils freezing, before moving in slow concert to face my way.
Oh, fuck.
“Great, that’s all just lovely,” Quarrel drawled, sarcastic as ever. “Now, can we please discuss the matter at hand? The fact that, oh, I don’t know, that there’s no FUCKING EXIT HERE?!”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand, turning my attention from one burgeoning disaster to deal with another. “did you not just hear–”
“Yes. Wait,” Glare boomed from my side, interrupting my words. He rounded slowly, confidently on the quarrelsome archer, flanked by an equally vindictive-looking Rover.
“I do believe,” the High Inquisitor rumbled, the backs of his eyes beginning to flare slightly with a fierce, scourging light, “that something of a reckoning is in order, here. Nor do I imagine myself isolated in such belief.”
He glanced towards Rover, who nodded confidently back at him.
Glare refocused on Quarrel, narrowing his eyes. “We are more united now than we have ever been before. I would not see this unity broken. Before we continue upon this delve, before we take even another single step, I would like to make a number of things quite clear.”
“And should any parties present disagree with my words, well, then…,” Glare paused for a moment, gazing meaningfully at the combative archer. “They are free to leave.” He boomed out the final word, which echoed disconcertingly about the unnatural acoustics of the robotic corridor.
Glare stared at Quarrel. Quarrel stared right back.
Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open slightly, but I didn’t detect any anger in her song. Only…shock? Disbelief? Though I couldn’t entirely blame her. I was shocked, too. This wasn’t how I’d imagined Glare’s ‘confrontation.’ No, not at all.
Why was he being so aggressive?
One, two, three.
There it was, again!
My attention upon the swiftly approaching clash between my comrades was dashed once more by that, that sound! That sound, so quiet and garbled and distorted that the words and meaning sequestered within it I could scarcely discern, but in the shocked silence following became almost clear. It was a phrase, it was some kind of phrase…wasn’t it?
I opened my mouth once more, but Quarrel beat me to it.
“Are you an imbecile?”
Quarrel leaned forward, still staring at the Immolator, who seemed taken aback by her genuineness. To be fair, it might have been the first time the archer didn’t mean the question rhetorically, as an insult.
“You…you actually think I want to continue this delve?”
Glare hesitated, his mouth working. “I–no, you–what?”
“Hello? Asshole? Shit’s not right with this dungeon!” She shouted, waving a hand back and front of the bewildered mage’s face. “I’m ‘free to leave’? Are you deranged? Fuck unity, I’m getting the fuck out of here as soon as physically possible!”
“But–you–the Coterie–” Glare tried. Suddenly, he stumbled, clutching his head, moaning in pain.
“Fuck the Coterie, too!” Quarrel yelled. Her shock was swiftly fading, dissipating in favour of a rage unlike any I’d witnessed in her before. “You think they wanted us to delve an exotic Maw? I’ll try again next year, if I even–”
“Wait, please,” I began, interspersing myself between the two parties, hoping I could get a word or two in edgewise. “You don’t understand, something’s not right here–”
“That’s what I’ve been FUCKING SAYING!!” Quarrel shrieked at me, spittle flying, her face turning a deep purplish hue. Her hands flew to both of her weapons. “There’s no fucking exit and this bitch–”
“Don’t FUCKING CALL ME THAT!”
A great palm forged from sharpened shadow slammed the archer brutally into the wall. From so close by, I could hear her ribs snap like little twigs, dried by the cruel summer sun. I could hear her internal organs turn to pulp. She’d be dead in minutes, if she wasn’t already.
I turned, and gasped sharply.
Thaum, who not moments ago had been the happiest I’d yet seen her, was distorted. Her face had twisted and warped into a mask of bestial rage, a woman possessed. I raised my hand, Draconic Blood poised to propel me forward, but was stopped by a second scream of pain.
A voice I’d never heard cry out before now.
Glare collapsed to the ground, palms still desperately clawing against his own skull. A great weeping gash spread across his back, nearly opening him up from hip to clavicle. Coursing blood soaked his blue-gold robes in mere moments, and trickled onto the floor, staining the all-white canvas a ghastly crimson.
Rover stood over his barely-conscious frame, a dull, empty look in the lycan’s normally exuberant eyes.
My brow was slick with sweat, and goose pimples had risen small hairs upon the nape of my neck. My beating heart pounded so powerfully I thought it might explode, drowning out all thought as I turned to face my final companion.
Vox’s face was placid, satisfied, entirely at ease.
His shoulders slumped slightly, his posture faintly slouched. His golden eyes twinkled joyously in the corridor’s artificial green lighting.
He smiled at me, and waved.
From behind his back, like the appendages of some abyssal abomination, three tentacles of pure song extended up, and over, twining towards Glare, and Thaum, and Rover. Encircling them. Piercing them through the soul. They throbbed repulsively, churning with Entropy, shivering with sadistic pleasure at their task.
OH, FUCK.
Thaum raised a second palm.
Rover took a step towards me.
Without an iota of hesitation, I slotted my fifth, and final, Shard, and dumped into it every bit of Entropy the thing could hold.
~~~
Bullet Time 1. Allows the Host to dilate their own perception of time’s flow on command. Note that this Shard does not bestow upon the Host any manner of Chronokinesis. Perception is slowed biologically, via increased synapse conduction and connection. As a result, this Shard does nothing to commensurately augment the Host’s physical movement.
~~~
The world slowed to a crawl.
The first thing that struck me was the silence. What had previously been a scene of chaos, of anguished screams, and shattered steel, and the premonition of approaching death became quiet as the grave. Peaceful. Tranquil.
It was an overwhelmingly bizarre sensation.
My limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if immersed in some omnipresent liquid, ten thousand times more viscous than honey, as if I was locked in a prison of translucent concrete. Even my eyes were incapable of keeping pace with my racing mind, my field of view locked to a singular image, an unchanging frame.
My eyes were locked in place, but I could see everything.
I watched as shades coalesced ever so slowly, oozing their way from Thaum’s robes towards her open palm, dragging themselves forth with minute limbs of shadow, converging into a spear of darkness and death.
I watched as Rover budged forward, millimeter by millimeter, inch by inch, eyes glassy, axe held high. His many filaments of fur waved motionlessly, strung along in a frozen world.
I watched as, like a conductor orchestrating some glorious crescendo, Vox twitched his hands, and twirled his fingers, and the bulging horde of phantasmal tentacles that was his Blessing did his bidding from afar. The Master wasn’t holding back anymore. He thought he’d won, and so, for the first time, I felt the full force of his Major Shard.
Broadcast’s voice nearly deafened me.
It screamed out across the space that separated us, a mind-melting cacophony of words and tunes and notes and voices all tyrannically mashed together, countless wavelengths compressed into one stream of noise and emotion and will.
It shrieked at me to submit, battering away with contemptuous ease what pithy barriers I desperately, haphazardly constructed in the song, even as its tendrils groped ever closer. I wouldn’t weather its assault for long.
But right now, I had all the time in the world.
I called upon Draconic Blood.
Instantly, I felt my two Shards resonate with one another, clicking seamlessly together, working effortlessly in tandem, pieces of a puzzle I’d never known existed. The Brute Blessing latched on to what I now knew to be a Thinker’s power, a buttress serving to support Bullet Time.
Gritting my teeth as my companions moved to kill me, as Vox’s creeping phalanges drew nearer and nearer, I readied myself for what I was about to do. I’d never tried to use three Shards at the same time before. Hells, this was my first time attempting two.
But I’d no choice. Fire was too slow, and Fang was, too. Only one weapon in my arsenal would allow me to leave this clash unscathed. So I drew upon Flash Step.
And through it, summoned the Lightning.
The pain was excruciating.
Black spots dotted the edges of my vision, my headache threatening to overwhelm me, every cell in my body warning me that this was not something I was ready to do. Lightning flowed through my veins at almost normal speed, moving with breathtaking vigor outwards from my sea and leaving a path of burnt muscles and burst blood vessels in its wake. Draconic Blood rushed behind it, following as close as possible to heal the ruinous damage, but it couldn’t keep pace.
It was agonizing, but it was working. Neither Vox’s Shard nor my puppeteered allies would make it to me in time.
Lightning erupted from both my palms with two great sprays of gore, the fried nerve endings driving me nearly to black out. The fine mist of carbonized blood cells and charred bone fragments slowed instantly, crawling through the air at a snail’s pace.
The twin streams of crimson fulmination surged towards Vox, a sickly smile still frozen on his face.
He’d never know what killed him.
In this state, I couldn’t physically grin, but the thought pleased me all the same.
ONE, TWO, THREE.
The still frame in front of me exploded into motion, light, and noise.
I blinked once, twice, and my euphoria turned to despair. The two blood-red bolts had detonated far too early, throwing Vox and I, and my domineered companions, back against opposing walls of the small corridor and driving the breath from my lungs.
My killing stroke had been interrupted by some…thing. Something that now levitated in midair before me, oozing with arcane might.
~~~
ALPHA NODE #0015, UNIT DESIGNATION:
CIRQUE
~~~
In that blaring, discordant tone not too dissimilar from Broadcast’s own, the floating creature continued.
SIX COME, IN SEARCH OF FAME.
SIX, TO THE MAGE RECLAIM.
It hovered placidly, three feet off the ground. An all-white android, covered from head to toe in bright green circuitry, lacking any manner of distinguishing or identifiable features save for two arms and legs. Except that, atop its head, was nothing more than an eclectically-spinning, six-sided cube.
MOTHER DRAGON SLEEPS SOUND,
HER LAIR DEEP UNDERGROUND,
The die arrested its motion, one side of its cubic skull aimed directly at me. Now frozen, I could clearly make out the image inscribed upon it.
A great, green eye.
FIRST, YOU’LL PLAY MY GAME.
The android raised a metallic hand and, with a soft yet resounding clink, snapped its fingers.
The world around me pixelated, dissolving into countless minute cubes of color, shrouding me in choking, impermeable darkness.