One week later...
[Directive 1-5: Defeat the Pack of Skarns complete!] Repeat Reward: 150 Experience (EXP), 20 Quintessence Shards (QSP), 2 Experience Cores (Basic), 4x Iron Ore
[You have advanced to Level 4]
Zark'thul stood over the broken forms of the Skarn beasts his squad had slain. The earthen creatures, half-spawned from the ground itself, lay scattered in their tracks. Yet, for him, it didn't feel like he'd fought the battle; the entire group, without him, had simply made that judgment call and attacked. There had been no prompting from him to begin.
Ever since the REDLINEs squad had chosen their names, they had only grown more confident in their own decisions, leading to situations such as these.
All of this had been their decision. Not his.
Three—now known as Clare, a name as average as her mannerisms—walked up to his side and gave him a respectful nod. "Directive complete, sir. Byron sustained moderate damage. Lyssa is healing him up." She inclined her head towards the rest of the group.
Sure enough, Lyssa—formerly Four—was hunched over One—who now called himself Byron—administering a stimpack from her medkit. The remains of the shattered golemoid creatures were littered around them in a swath of broken earth and rock.
Two, having renamed herself Geneve, cleaned the gore off her daggers, standing nearby the other members. She wore an easy-going smile, something that was becoming a common sight ever since they'd adopted their new names. Five was now known as Warren, though his silent vigil on the sidelines while fidgeting with his pistol holster still seemed a part of who he was.
Such a curious, curious lot...
Perhaps it was merely an arbitrary change in Zark'thul's mind, but there was something undeniably different about all of this now that they had begun using those names. Where they used to move and operate solely on his direction, they were starting to make calls on their own, initiating action without prompting.
They had become... bold, in a way. Though they still treated him with respect, there was a hint of something else. Confidence? Affirmation? Independence?
Elspeth's words echoed in his mind—had her prediction of a bond already begun to take shape?
Was that... good, or bad?
It was still too soon to tell. They needed a stronger directive, something more challenging. These pack of Skarns hardly provided a decent obstacle, certainly not something they needed to strain their resources on. A slightly tougher fight, but a small-scale one in the grander scheme of things.
He reached down and placed a palm on a Skarn corpse, activating his Vocarious Maw of the Abyss ability. An ethereal purple glow overtook his human limb, reshaping it into an enormous, writhing tentacle, a spectral aberration that extended from his form, contorting and warping space itself.
The twisted appendage coiled around the creature's corpse, engulfing it in its grip and pulling it into the swirling vortex. He could feel his power devouring, consuming the creature, absorbing its essence for his own gain. As the last bits of the creature dissolved, the tentacle shrank and his arm returned to normal.
[You've acquired 150 Experience (EXP) from a slain Golemoid Creature.]
Zark'thul grunted his approval.
Again, these were paltry gains for him. Not enough to feed his insatiable desire for power. Merely crumbs, almost meaningless to the kind of force he was to become.
What he needed was a bigger, stronger enemy, a titan to feed his hungering maw.
With the mission done, and the rewards gleaned, Zark'thul looked back at his AetherLink and tapped his Status. At first, nothing changed. After a moment, however, a ripple cascaded across the display, and the numbers adjusted:
> image [https://i.imgur.com/AEB8z9S.png]
>
> [Name] Zark'thul
> [Role] CEO
> [Level] 4
> [Experience] 200/7,500
> [Accolades] None
> [Health] 650/650
> [Essence] 140/140
> Attack (ATK): 32.5
> Magic (MAG): 91
> Defense (DEF): 45.5
> Magic Resistance (MRES): 78
> Speed (SPD): 23
> Crit Rate (CRIT): 7.5%
> Dodge Rate (DODGE): 9.5%
> Block Rate (BLOCK): 9.5%
>
> [Agent Pool Size] 10/20
> [Deployment Slots] 3
> [Abilities] Voracious Maw of the Abyss (Rank 1), Eldritch Fortitude (Rank 1), *new* Thousand Eyes of Dark Beyond (Rank 1)
Another new power... It seemed like every level gained would unlock a new one. Would this pattern continue?
He glanced down at his AetherLink to investigate, reading its details carefully.
> [Thousand Eyes of the Dark Beyond] Your eldritch perception allows you to conjure and control up to twenty ethereal eyes, spawning them anywhere in an area around you, which you can use to view things remotely. Each eye sees normally, up to a range of one kilometer.
>
> You can create, manipulate, and destroy these eyes at will, and you can see through each one as though it were your own. These eyes, however, can be physically destroyed. As long as you have one eye manifested, you cannot fall prey to total blindness. When you use this ability, any remaining eyes that have been created prior to the next usage of this ability will vanish. Cost: 20 Essence; Duration: 20 minutes; Cooldown: 1 hour
His grin widened.
Finally, a more appropriate addition to his repertoire! Oh, how he missed the sensation of having eyes everywhere, seeing everything... Well, he would have to make do with twenty, instead.
He activated the new ability and, immediately, a nostalgic sensation bubbled within him. It was like his gaze had opened to many windows, and he saw fragments of space unfolding within his mind.
These were his eyes. His instruments of observation. He felt his hold on them, felt the cold touch of their dark presence.
Slowly, Zark'thul focused his attention on each of the ethereal eyes. With a thought, they materialized around him, blinking in midair, some coming to hover right above his shoulders while others hung in the air by his sides. Through the eyes, he could see the room from different angles, capturing perspectives he'd never been able to perceive in this form. He could shift his focus between them at will, creating a panoramic view of his surroundings.
The experiment, brief as it was, was a success. What a thrill, to finally be seeing the world through numerous eyes again! Zark'thul blinked, dismissing the newly-conjured ocular. As soon as he did so, the ethereal eyes vanished, though the sensation of their presence lingered in his mind.
At last, he had regained some semblance of his lost power. Perhaps things were indeed looking up.
"Finish gathering whatever you want from these remains," Zark'thul addressed his agents, snapping the AetherLink closed and dismissing the screen. "We're going back."
While they nodded in agreement, the rest of the squad divided up the labor of salvaging any worthwhile items or resources from the remains of their combat.
Zark'thul watched silently from the sidelines, eyes narrow and focused. Without command, they worked efficiently, packing away the spoils of their victory with practiced ease. With each passing battle, their coordination had grown, an almost flawless choreography that felt to him as though his will was being manifested in reality without his even needing to impose himself.
To have Agents act without his guidance was...
Fine, in all truth, so long as he remained the de facto leader. Their autonomy wasn't yet anything to be wary of.
----------------------------------------
One week later...
Following another successful run, Zark'thul emerged from the Nexus Room with Elspeth in tow, heading for his office. A message, bold and insistent, pulsed across his AetherLink:
[Directive 1-6: Eliminate the Floor Guardian, is now available. Do you wish to accept? (Y/N)]
Just when he was readying to take it, Elspeth gently tugged at the edge of his coat. Her usual impassive expression had shifted to one of quiet persistence. "Excuse the intrusion, but may I ask you to wait a bit before accepting?"
His steps had come to a halt, right in the middle of the hall. After dismissing the message's prompt, he turned to regard her, his arms folded in a skeptical pose. "Why? Any particular reason for waiting?"
That smile again—amiable, yet somehow managing to be both confident and patient all at once.
She continued, "It's just... these first directives and subsequent missions have been running back-to-back without a significant respite since the start. It might serve as a valuable idea to offer the Agents some much-needed downtime between such extensive missions. Short breaks are sometimes critical to optimal performance."
Zark'thul grunted in response, pondering the wisdom of her words. To push harder, ever harder—that had been his preference. Yet, if there was even a margin of merit to her advice, it was worth considering.
Not that he necessarily bought into her full suggestion.
"Downtime, is it?" he muttered. His long fingers tapped out a rhythm on his arm.
"Downtime would indeed offer them a chance to replenish their strength," she nodded in agreement. "Agents tend to perform better with the right balance of work and rest."
Then again, perhaps he ought to indulge her advice, since the outcomes so far hadn't been entirely negative. What could this possibly mean in the grand scheme of things? Was he becoming more open-minded... or was he simply choosing to take calculated risks with his decision-making process?
"I guess they've earned that much, at least," he conceded after a pause. His eyes moved from her face to look somewhere beyond, as though watching some phantom presence. "Besides, I need to allocate some experience cores and gear to their growth."
That was just practical—and he would stick by that excuse as his reason for doing so.
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Elspeth's smile seemed to soften at the edges, then, growing warmer. "Excellent decision," she said with a soft tone. "I shall also see about assigning them further accommodations that match their needs. Properly rewarding outstanding performance is key."
With that, Elspeth took her leave, returning to the central corridor of the floor. Zark'thul watched her depart, his gaze lingering a fraction longer than was entirely necessary. After a brief pause, he too set off in the direction of his room.
He had some time to use up, now.
Upon entering his spacious CEO office, Zark'thul walked to his desk and sat down. A brush of his hand activated the holo-screen embedded within, the surface flickering to life. He opened his tab to check on his Quintessence Shards and available Experience Cores, steeling himself for the costs soon to come.
As a prompt, the system read out:
[Quintessence Shards x 770]
[Experience Core (Basic) x 170]
This would work. His stockpile had grown over time, bit by bit. The accumulation had been steady, though not always consistent. But now, when he thought about it, he had enough saved up that it wouldn't completely deplete him if he made some investments. Zark'thul had saved enough resources that would allow for his REDLINEs' growth to at least some extent.
With that in mind, he delved into the first order of business: spending the experience cores on his Agents. An even distribution between the REDLINEs and the goblinoids would suffice. Each member could gain two levels from the incoming resource dumps.
Elspeth had advocated for such an investment not too long ago... so, this was him simply following along with that plan.
He accessed the Agent Management section of his interface and located the 'Resource Assignment' function. A series of icons representing his squad members appeared, each marked by their species and name. It was an intuitive system, and he assigned a portion of his gathered Experience Cores in a short time.
Immediately, a flood of information scrolled over the holo-screen, outlining the exact amount of Basic Experience Cores each squad member would receive, alongside a listing of their present bonuses and alterations. Based on the breakdown, nearly every member of his forces would achieve Level 5, though Warren and Skitters would only advance up to Level 4.
Was he distributing his resources too evenly? Would it be more efficient if he just focused on advancing one or two Agents until their power plateaued?
No. None of them possessed any outstanding skills or attributes that would place them above their peers—not even Filu, despite being a rare-tier Agent. It'd be foolish to overly rely on an individual instead of building up his entire arsenal.
After he confirmed his choices, the numbers on the screen began to shift, indicating the transfer of power and knowledge among the squads.
[Level-ups have been applied to Squad One and Two.]
He paused to review the changes. He wasn't personally witnessing it, of course, but knew that the transformation they would experience would be similar to what he had already undergone. Their strength would surge, and their proficiency would rise. But, like the nature of his own transformation, those growths would manifest in their own particular ways, unique to their natures and abilities.
Just what results would emerge from all of this? He wasn't yet sure.
With the level-up process concluded, he turned his attention back to the holo-screen.
As tempting as it was to spend his Quintessence Shards to recruit more Agents, his eldritch instincts, or perhaps simply his own stubbornness, held him back. He wasn't at a point where he was willing to depend on that many beings just yet. These two squads were adequate enough. A few more Agents wouldn't drastically change things.
Besides, his Deployment Slots hadn't increased since the last time he checked, meaning he couldn't have fielded any more squads even if he wanted to. It was a bottleneck of sorts, one that could only be overcome with his own progression. Elspeth had made a passing comment about this once or twice before.
Recruiting would be on hold, for now.
He leaned back in his seat, deliberating on his next move.
That next directive loomed large in his mind—'Eliminate the Floor Guardian'. A significant challenge, surely.
While he had let his squads do the majority of the work up until now, the thrill of personally overcoming a challenge hadn't left him. There was a certain satisfaction that came with the use of his own abilities in pursuit of strength. This was not something to be forgotten. To truly seize power, he should involve himself as well.
He tapped on the holo-screen to open the upcoming directive's details:
> [Directive 1-6] Eliminate the Floor Guardian
> [Objective] Defeat the corrupted Swamstrider Behemoth that stalks the fens.
> [Difficulty] ★★☆☆☆
> [Success] Kill the Floor Guardian.
> [Failure] Wipeout of all field agents deployed.
> [Reward] 250 Experience (EXP), 50 Quintessence Shards, 5 Experience Cores (Basic), Access to Tower Floor 2. In addition, a cache of rare quality materials and gear will be provided.
> [Repeatable] No
This was a fairly straightforward directive, which Zark'thul found oddly reassuring. There were no trick mechanics or puzzles to solve. This was simply a trial of strength, of skill. Survival of the fittest, one might say.
Yet, there was a glint of skepticism in his eyes.
The Tower, if anything, liked to present challenges in deceptively simple terms. Nothing about it suggested fairness or simplicity. There was bound to be something else, something hidden in the folds of the quest's apparent straightforwardness. The directive was of a notably higher difficulty than anything they had faced thus far—a potential pitfall? Or was it merely a consequence of the floor guardian's sheer power and threat?
Corrupted... now that was another detail that piqued his interest. Just what did that entail? Perhaps the true challenge would come from this supposed corruption rather than the behemoth itself. Was there a nuance to it—a deeper enigma lying beneath its surface appearance?
Only by confronting it would he find out.
----------------------------------------
The portal churned to life with an oily shimmer, rippling across the air like a living wound. Zark’thul stepped through first, and the marshland’s humid stench slapped him hard. It seeped into the crevices of Zark’thul’s skin, eliciting a momentary sneer that faded as quickly as it had arrived. He adjusted his senses, recalibrating to this world’s damp and sullen cadence.
Squelching mud made a wet-sucking noise at every step.
His REDLINEs filed out of the portal behind him, one after another. Byron came first, shield raised and eyes scanning the periphery for any immediate threats. Geneve slipped out next, twin daggers gripped tightly. Clare and Lyssa emerged after, the former already adjusting the sights on her rifle and the latter double-checking her medkit. Finally, Warren exited, pistol ready and posture cautious.
These five had been handpicked for this crucial directive, a choice not of preference but necessity. His second squad, comprised of the goblinoids, had been tasked to continue clearing the previous directives for him to farm more Quintessence Shards, Experience Cores, and other resources. Once this next task was done, his focus would then be on conquering Floor 2. As such, he needed them to handle as many tasks on the previous floor as they could.
Unlike the REDLINEs, the goblinoids' morale didn't wane from repeating the same task. So far, they have shown neither irritation nor discontent—always eager to dive back into the fray. Given their simplicity, that fact wasn’t too surprising to Zark'thul.
But the current surroundings called for his attention again.
On the far horizon, beyond the thick expanse of gnarled trees and shrouded undergrowth, a swollen crimson sun hung low. It cast a marmalade light on the swamp, dyeing the still waters a sickly orange.
"Should we start scouting, sir?" Clare asked, the edge in her voice underscored by the hissing of insects around them.
"No," Zark'thul replied. "My scrying eyes should suffice."
With a mental push, the ability coalesced from the essence of his power. Ethereal eyes materialized around him—first one, then five, then ten, until twenty of them circled his body in a silent orbit. Each unblinking sphere hovered at different heights, their gazes fixed in every direction, extending his vision across the fetid expanse.
"Now, hunt."
Zark'thul extended his will, and the eyes shot off into the distance, dispersing like a swarm of spectral fireflies. They buzzed through the marshland, skimming over scummy water and diving through tangled roots.
They flew outward, and in the theater of Zark'thul’s mind, each was a small window that flared to life, a vibrant snapshot of the world they navigated. He closed his eyes, allowing the influx of external stimuli to flood his thoughts.
To experience sight from so many perspectives at once was both exhilarating and familiar. It was a taste of what he had lost. An echo of his former eldritch self, his unfathomable dominion over vast expanses. No mortal could sustain this kind of perception without losing their sense of self; no mortal would even attempt to.
But for the moment, these slivers of his old power sufficed.
Each eye swept across the marshlands, relentless and probing. Some skimmed the surface of still pools, peering down into their murky depths. Others darted through the hanging curtains of moss, weaving between knotted trunks and slithering roots.
Near, far—there was no distinction. Distance had no hold on him; wherever one of these eyes roamed, it was as though he was there, a silent observer of a world beyond his body. Each gaze was another channel, another window into places unseen.
One eye veered too low, brushing too close to a black, still pool. It was swallowed instantly, dissolved by the acidic water below. Zark’thul barely registered the loss—he could sense the other nineteen remaining, their steady movements undeterred.
Still no behemoth.
They searched and searched, until finally, two eyes caught sight of movement far to the north. It was subtle—ripples that broke the stillness of a deep pool, too large to be any ordinary marsh creature.
Zark’thul commanded the rest of the eyes to converge toward that direction, narrowing his perception until he could scrutinize the disturbance more clearly.
The creature broke the surface. A massive, bulbous head breached the muck, covered in dark, warty skin that glistened in the muddied light. Amber, golden eyes split the gloom, two sharp gleams in the murk.
As the behemoth rose above the bog, its grotesque form emerged fully. Bulbous folds of meaty flesh, like overstuffed sacs, bulged around its gaping mouth and squatted body. A pair of muscular legs tensed beneath, propelling the beast forward.
A giant frog? That was the floor guardian?
It gave Zark'thul pause. From afar, it wouldn’t look imposing, given its shape and overall unthreatening appearance. Yet, there was a stark, nagging warning deep within his essence.
He willed the ethereal eyes to circle wider, shifting their perspectives to examine every grimy detail of the emerging creature. As the swamp strider heaved itself further out of the bog, Zark'thul spotted what that instinctual warning must have been for.
A dark sheen clung to its bulbous hide—something more than swamp grime, something that pulsed with an unsettling, oily luster. It was like a second skin, layered with shadows that crawled beneath the flesh as though alive. The behemoth's amber eyes, now seen clearly, were laced with sickly purple veins that throbbed erratically, their glow fractured by an inner void.
Zark’thul recognized that corruption instantly—Qliphothic taint.
Nostalgia unfurled within him.
It was like catching a glimpse of an old friend. To him, the Qliphothic corruption held a grotesque charm, an intimate understanding, and a palpable essence that mirrored his own in many ways. Yet a faint echo of disdain permeated in his mind.
Qliphothic energy—base, chaotic, and crude. To the Qliphoth, the universe wasn’t a tapestry to be subsumed and reformed, but a carcass to be torn apart, gnawed upon until nothing but void remained. It sought not to grow, but to destroy; not to bend reality, but to unravel it.
It was, in short, a vulgar, simple-minded force.
Not that his Eldritch nature was any less corruptive or absolute in its destructiveness... but at least, for Zark'thul, it was not entirely senseless chaos that guided his movements. But rather, his nature had purpose behind them. To change, to shape, to grow, to evolve—he operated by a set of principles he understood.
He had seen Qliphothic corruption many times before—had battled it in dimensions long forgotten, where its spreading chaos was a blight upon all that was. It was a force fundamentally opposed to his own nature. Eldritch power consumed, integrated, made lesser things part of a greater whole.
The Qliphoth, on the other hand? Madness incarnate, dedicated only to a null reality.
Disdain morphed into contempt.
He let out a slow breath, a purely human action that still felt strange to him. And yet, that physical sensation of controlled release mirrored what he needed to do right now—to anchor his emotions back to a cold, detached focus.
For now, he needed to bury the old enmities he had towards the Qliphoth, to remember that this was just a challenge.
He watched as the behemoth’s grotesque head turned, its milky, yellow eyes now tinged with erratic black swirls that swam like ink in water. This corruption was raw and recent, still mutating the creature from within.
One of the eyes, off to the side, drifted closer to the swamp strider and flickered as the being's gaze washed over it. But, somehow, Zark'thul wasn't discovered. Whatever potency this thing once had had been muddled. It looked utterly confused. Its large head drifted back to the fore, peering deep into the waters beneath it, seemingly unaware of the intrusive magical specter in its domain.
With each labored breath, the behemoth seemed to exhale a miasma of dark fumes—pure entropy escaping into the air. The swamp strider then settled down, as if waiting.
"Fitting. Even this realm is tainted by the Qliphoth's touch. Even here..."
He dismissed the remaining ethereal eyes, their spectral forms dissolving like mist, leaving only the imprint of their visions in his mind. His human body resumed its dominant sensory role, once again grounded in the limited field of vision and damp reality of the marshland.
Turning to the rest of the REDLINEs, Zark'thul voiced his order. "It's located to the northeast, about five to six kilometers from our position."
"You've found it, sir?" Lyssa asked, looking up at him through her thick bangs. "What exactly are we dealing with?"
"An oversized frog, to put it in more pedestrian terms. Do not be deceived by its shape," he warned, his gaze hardening. "Its nature is Qliphothic, seething with their taint."
A distant rumble, barely audible, resonated from the creature's direction.
A threat display? It was likely still unaware of their presence, for now. And for all he knew, it would simply stay there unless they dared to confront it.