"Qliphothic?" Geneve's brow furrowed as she repeated the word.
Zark'thul nearly clicked his tongue in irritation at the interruption, but Elspeth had, at some point, instilled within him some practice with 'patience' and 'social norms' as far as human behavior went. Better to just explain it in simple terms.
He put both hands behind his back and attempted to lay it out for these limited minds.
"Just as my own being is part of the Eldritch hierarchy, this one carries a Qliphothic alignment. My kind and their kind—we are mutually antagonistic forces."
"What does that mean, sir?" The question came from Byron, who squinted at the muddy waters lapping near their feet.
Byron had grown much more confident in talking to him, and though Zark'thul didn't appreciate the inquiry, he again responded. "They're creatures of chaos, dissolution, and oblivion. Eldritch beings like myself feed upon the lower realms of existence, absorbing and transforming them. But Qliphoths... they rend, despoil, and corrupt everything in their wake. We are the ultimate end-state; they are the cessation of order."
Clare and Lyssa traded glances, both of their faces betraying confusion.
"Think of it like this. The Eldritch way is to conquer, consume, and remake into a higher form—my higher form. Whereas the Qliphoth seek to scatter, destroy, and let all dissolve back to nothing."
"Could you break it down a bit more, sir?" Byron looked at him sheepishly, "Just having a hard time grasping the—"
Zark'thul facepalmed. "Enough! All you need to understand is that we have an enemy to eliminate. Its nature isn't your concern."
His impatience bubbled to the surface in his voice, sharp and curt. Patience was difficult; an irksome state of being. He flexed his hands at his sides, as if trying to push away the annoying urge to strangle his inept audience.
Deep breaths...
Mustering himself to face them again, he shifted the topic. "Let's just focus on defeating the Floor Guardian. Consider yourselves forewarned. Any injury you sustain from it will likely be immediately afflicted by this corruption."
Not waiting for their acknowledgement, Zark'thul turned and moved to step back through the portal.
"Where are you going, sir?" Clare asked. Her tone was nervous.
"Precautionary measures are required. I'll need to find a way to augment Lyssa's kit. Nothing else will serve to protect your weak bodies against Qliphothic touch. Fortunately, this directive has no time limit. Let's head back for now."
----------------------------------------
Elspeth led Zark'thul to the Lab and Development Sector after his quick return, coming straight from the portal to this place. His mind had been turning on how exactly he would want to approach the task.
An augmentation to his Support’s healing tools—medicines, consumables, and perhaps her tech—would have to suffice.
The ceiling within the chamber was high, lofty, and echoing with the thrum of machinery that sat undisturbed on the tabletops. Most of the contraptions were inscrutable to him, and he couldn't parse their meaning or application at the moment, especially with Elspeth now pointing to a series of machines tucked in the corner of the room.
Each sported an odd apparatus consisting of multiple cylinders and dials, all connected to a central reservoir. They had a medical purpose of some sort. Surely there would be something that suited his needs.
"These devices are Medical Assemblers," she said, gesturing towards a machine, which bore the designation MAB-X100. "Designed to mass-produce various health-related items with the right reagents, as well as certain schematics and materials."
Elspeth nudged one of the devices with her foot. It hummed to life, a dull, throbbing pulse emitting from it as it powered up. "All you need to do is put the right things in. The process itself is not easy, but... let me demonstrate."
Zark'thul watched as Elspeth bent down to retrieve a small vial containing a viscous blue substance, a few plants, and some refined liquid—the distilled essence from some of the local wildlife. She slid these materials into the device's intake tray.
Next, her hand flew to a tablet connected to the Assembler. Her slender fingers tapped a few glyphs upon the screen, and she offered Zark'thul a knowing glance before giving one final, decisive tap on the screen. "Last step."
The machine roared to life, the insistent rattle of its mechanics echoing off the laboratory's stone walls. Inside, Zark'thul saw the vials being fed into a centrifuge, the tablets reduced to a fine powder, and the liquids boiling, frothing, and distilling.
All this took place within a series of transparent cylinders, where he could watch the elaborate process of the assembler at work.
"This particular batch is a straightforward healing concoction," Elspeth remarked as she leaned against a table, observing the ongoing spectacle within the cylinders. "Fairly rudimentary, I assure you. Such processes, however, can also be used for a more specialized and intricate ends."
Within minutes, the glowing, iridescent concoction spiraled out from the central hub and into a collection port below, filling up the receptacle and casting a stark green light into the laboratory. The procedure concluded with a satisfying chime, its mechanical song dissipating into the air. She retrieved the substance and placed it on the table next to her.
Then, she walked towards another machine, one marked MAB-X101. This machine was far more complex in appearance than its sibling, with rows of glass tubes and chambers housing other, even more sophisticated mechanisms within.
Elspeth pointed to a panel near its side, a jumble of complex symbols and displays. "This model allows for far more controlled concoctions. You can set the parameters based on your intent, and even instill specific elements or substances."
Zark'thul removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. It felt wrong to do something so... mundane. But he wanted to handle this process himself. It would be better if he was in control. "How do you define these parameters?"
"The device comes with a list of pre-determined choices. Select from those, or manually input your own requirements if they differ," she replied, showing him the interface. "But, the amount of reagents required scales exponentially, especially with the later settings."
As she spoke, he scrolled through a series of options—variations on themes of healing, remedies for poisoning, and others—all available for selection with the push of a button.
What Zark'thul was looking for wasn't an option on the menu. Naturally.
His finger tapped a different button, selecting the Custom option and inputting the instructions instead of using the defaults. His eldritch knowledge encompassed an extensive understanding of biological systems and how best to compromise them. Yet, while he was quite adept at causing harm, he had limited experience when it came to nurturing or reversing that damage.
It was a self-defeating notion, contrary to his purpose.
But with a bit of manipulation and repurposing of his destructive knowledge, he should be able to devise some preventative measures against Qliphothic infection. At least, temporarily. For now, he only needed a place to start.
He checked the list of materials they had accumulated from previous outings: several distinct kinds of plants, common funguses, wildflowers, and a range of minerals native to the bog biome. The special materials were the Aetherroots from the Darksheen Fens, Siltstone Cores gathered from the Gloomsink Hollows, Mirecrystal Eggs from the Virex Pits, and Skarn Fireslate fragments.
Perhaps he could combine these to create a material that would act as a primer or inoculant. Some substance to fortify his agents from Qliphothic influence...
With a more definite approach in mind, Zark'thul delved back into the device's settings, altering and modifying them to suit his particular needs.
Individually, none of these materials could provide significant resistance against Qliphothic corruption. But maybe if he imbued the materials with his essence—a countermeasure against the infectious corruption—he might be onto something.
Decision made, he dumped most of the stored materials into the input tray and commanded the system to activate, urging the machine to distill and render their alchemical components.
The apparatus ground to life, its internal mechanisms buzzing and hissing as it processed the reagents. A hum filled the room as the liquids bubbled and the machine began to spin.
The process was methodical but far too slow. He hurried back to the previous machine, selecting a simple healing remedy and letting it run while the X101 worked.
Soon, the two machines' products were ready. The green vial of the X100 was a basic concoction, looking mundane compared to the murky substance that filled a crystalline beaker as the output of the X101's exhaustive processes.
This latter result—a deep, pearlescent red, almost violet at the edges—swirled within its container. It was far more appealing to his eyes than its simpler counterpart.
Zark'thul held up the concoction to the light, scrutinizing the substance. Was the hue darker than intended? Perhaps a bit. Or perhaps not dark enough...
Regardless, it appeared complete. Now to infuse it. With a quiet command, Zark'thul willed his eldritch energies to suffuse the beaker. Pale, mauve tendrils of his essence leaked out from his fingertips and connected with the liquid. Gradually, the purple shade overcame the other pigments, causing the whole thing to darken and then settle into a shimmering, volatile color.
Whatever this liquid had become, he suspected it would be enough for his purposes—an improvised shield against Qliphothic corrosion. That was all he needed. Just a stop-gap measure, really.
Elspeth leaned in to look, her curious eyes narrowing. "Is that..."
"It's done," he said simply. "How many vials can we produce?"
"Quite a few, if you have the materials," she said. "With this X101, a large batch can be made. How much do you need?"
"Every vial that will be filled. I want every squad member equipped with at least three each. Anything extra can go to the goblinoids."
With a nod, Elspeth set the machine into motion. This would take some time to finish.
----------------------------------------
Zark'thul returned to the bog with his squad of REDLINEs. They were re-outfitted in proper gear, well-rested, and ready. Each of them had equipped the protective inoculant he had made, stored in belt-slot injectors. Lyssa had her medkit, augmented with his unique vials to amplify her healing capabilities.
She held it at her hip, and by the subtle glances of the others, they were wary of the medkit and the eldritch elements Zark'thul had imbued. Not without good reason: The bag had an aura.
Their trek was long, but he led the way. Having sent his eyes out before to scout, he was guided by them through the expanse of twisted vines and mossy overgrowth. They trekked in silence, save for the occasional squelch of their boots on the muddy ground and the whining buzz of insects surrounding them.
Within an hour, they reached the location. His Thousand Eyes of the Dark Beyond were hovering in wait, tracing lazy loops in the air around the swamp strider behemoth. The creature stood partially submerged in the fetid waters, its repugnant form crowned with bloated sacs that pulsed softly in the thick, humid air.
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Dark streaks of corruption oozed from its skin, dripping into the murky water and turning it an oily shade of black.
A thick, cloying miasma permeated the air, and when Zark'thul stepped closer, his presence seemed to stir the creature. Its massive head turned slowly in the marsh, one bulbous eye fixing its gaze on him, revealing a vast pool of sentience behind that grotesque façade. Intelligence too...
He signaled the others to take positions.
Clare moved through the underbrush, quick and silent, her rifle at the ready. Geneve flanked the creature's other side, disappearing from view within a blink. Lyssa positioned herself beside a tree, taking cover. Byron planted his feet firmly in the soft terrain, shield raised high. Warren edged along the side, a device in his hand clicking as he prepared his traps.
This was the extent of the preparations they had come up with beforehand. After this? They would make it up as they went along.
Zark'thul pointed the AetherLink's camera to focus on the creature ahead.
> [Data Analysis] Swamp Strider Behemoth (Corrupted)
> [Level] 4
> [Type] Aberration (Elite)
> [Role] Tank
> [Health (HP)] 672
> [Defense (DEF)] 58.5
> [Magic Resistance (MRES)] 78
> [Attack (ATK)] 97.5
> [Speed (SPD)] 28
> [Crit Rate (CRIT)] 9.2%
> [Dodge Rate (BLOCK)] 10.35%
A Tank? Damn... He should have brought the Berserker twins. They would have been better suited to chip this creature down.
No. Too risky.
Their battle frenzy could easily put them at the mercy of corruption. For now, this group would have to suffice. They would have to make it work somehow. If anything, that's what he was for—to supervise, guide, and adapt their plans if necessary.
Still... The creature's attack and defense were higher than what the squad was used to at this point in their growth. The only ones who had a chance of inflicting meaningful damage were Geneve and Clare.
Byron wouldn't last six direct hits against this creature's damage output. To mismanage the squad, even if just by a little, would lead to death for these fragile mortals.
Why am I working so hard to keep them alive, anyway? Is this not simply a trial of power?
If they were to die, he could always find more like them.
That was all these Agents really were—means to an end. This was merely a puzzle to overcome, not a play of empathy. Yet, each death was a resource wasted and an opportunity for future power squandered.
Perhaps this was why Elspeth warned him to be cautious.
Yes. That was it.
They were assets. Valuable ones. He wouldn't dare mishandle his tools of victory.
Calculations flashed through his mind, numbers and figures aligning in an intricate dance of strategy. How kind of this system to give him so much data to work with.
A manic grin split Zark'thul's face, nearly disfiguring his human facade and showing off rows of teeth far too sharp for the human mouth he currently had. It was just enough to alarm his REDLINEs, prompting him to scale his exuberance back by a degree.
Not that he cared for their opinion. The Tower wouldn't be giving him the benefit of all these statistics if it didn't mean that he should make full use of them.
And exploit them, he would.
He had already resolved to act as a secondary Tank in this scenario. He was durable enough to weather most of the creature's blows, and he could mitigate the damage better than Byron. Between the two of them, they had a high chance of locking the creature down.
The plan solidified in his mind. They would divide the creature's attention and systematically tear it apart. Even if his strategy deviated from the Tower's expected norms, it hardly mattered.
His resources were limited, and risks had to be curtailed.
The time had come to press forward.
----------------------------------------
A gunshot rang out first, piercing the muggy swamp air as Clare unloaded her weapon into the creature. Red sparks flashed at each point of impact along its flesh. It spun in her direction, clumsily trying to pinpoint its new assailant. The assault barely fazed the creature, causing only superficial wounds that oozed black ichor.
Zark'thul charged ahead, armed with a spear and shield he'd taken from the armory before venturing out. Though hardly the master of such arts, he could still fare better than his agents against the hulking behemoth. Closing the distance, he set his feet and braced himself behind his shield.
"Over here, foul beast," he commanded, lifting his spear aloft. "I am your reckoning."
It bore down on Zark'thul, letting out a deep, guttural bellow as its fetid breath swirled around him, rank and pungent. Viscous mud churned beneath the monster's feet, squelching loudly with each step. The marshy reeds and cattails were crushed to a pulp in its wake. It swung a massive, muscular leg at him, and the blow thundered into his shield, rocking him back several steps.
But it wasn't enough. Zark'thul dug in. His footing held firm as he was pressed into the soft earth of the swamp. Another two successive blows on his shield elicited deep, bone-rattling vibrations, and pushed him back again, but it was a controlled yield, all to buy the squad precious time.
Nearby, Geneve melted from the shadows to deliver a flurry of quick strikes. Her twin daggers glinted in the sun as she danced between the creature's flanks, leaving a trail of flashing cuts in her wake. The assault barely slowed the beast down. Clare unloaded her weapon into the thing, peppering it with precise shots.
The bullets slammed into its hide, eliciting red flashes at every point of impact, yet causing little more than superficial wounds. Its flesh puckered and bled a noxious ichor that steamed in the humid air.
"Hold your attacks! Wait for my signal!" Zark'thul ordered, pushing the thing's meaty hand aside with his shield. If they continued to press the assault now, it would only turn its attention on them and scatter their efforts.
Better to consolidate its attention on himself again. Only then could the battle be fully controlled.
Geneve disappeared, receding into the environment while the behemoth stumbled away, wildly swiping at the air in search of its vanished foe. Zark'thul stepped in, skewering his spear into the beast's side to regain its focus. He didn't care to dig deep—the blow was merely an offering, a prize to win its attention.
The pain was enough. It barreled toward him, a shrill bellow of rage slicing through the swampy murk. He backpedaled, keeping the monstrosity fixated on his position. Three successive blows rattled his shield, two direct, one glancing strike. His vision flickered with red, and blood trickled from his nose.
This impact was deeper, more aggressive, than the last.
"Switch!" he yelled, lowering his weapon and dodging back.
Byron roared into action, colliding with the monster's belly from the side. His powerful shield slam reverberated through the bog, nearly upturning the monster, and was followed by a relentless barrage of slashes and stabs from his steel sword.
Taking the hits head-on, the behemoth let out a hissing gurgle. For all Byron's formidable strength, it was still like fighting a living fortress.
The moment's advantage was used to its fullest by the others—Geneve and Clare attacking, drawing the creature's attention until the switch could be made once more, allowing Byron to step back and give his place to Zark'thul.
As he pulled back, Warren unleashed his array of traps. A thunderous cacophony of explosions echoed, followed by a bristling wall of electricity. The swamp strider, seized by the stun effect, convulsed violently.
Zark'thul glanced over at Byron's wounds. Already, the Qliphothic corruption had taken hold within his body, dark veins snaking out from under his armor. Discolorations bloomed along his skin. Thankfully, the effects seemed mild so far. The inoculant was somewhat effective—for now.
He signaled to Lyssa.
As if on cue, she hurried toward Byron with her medkit. With practiced hands, she administered the eldritch-infused serum that Zark'thul had crafted. Her attentions caused the darker shades of his skin to recede, reversing the tide of the encroaching blight that had crept up his arms.
Zark'thul would have to assess the efficacy of his preparation when time permitted. Despite his role in safeguarding the team's welfare, he refused to coddle them.
They fought the creature to a standstill, forcing a slow but grinding pace. Little damage could be done in a single cycle. Each time the monster landed a powerful blow on Zark'thul or Byron, they would yield position to the other and pull back to administer a restorative injection.
Rounds and rounds, rotations and rotations.
It was a calculated balance between pressure, survivability, and sustain—all executed with strict discipline. No panic. The only variance allowed was when Geneve or Clare were in a good spot to add pressure without inviting too much risk.
Slowly, but surely, they whittled the behemoth down until at last, their methodical, systematic approach paid off. The monster crumpled, its eyes glazing over and its head dropping into the muck with an echoing splash. It bellowed a final, hollow cry, a gurgling death rattle that lingered in the air as it sagged into the bog, dead at last.
"Finally!" Geneve sighed, sheathing her daggers. Her bruised cheeks were flushed, and the sluggish gait she carried herself with betrayed the strain of the long ordeal.
The other REDLINEs also visibly drooped, their breathing heavy and expressions haggard. Wounds, scrapes, and the creeping corruption had left its mark upon each of them—save for Clare and Lyssa. The former had managed to stay out of harm's reach during the battle while the latter looked comparatively fresh by the virtue of her more indirect involvement.
Zark'thul looked down at his battered form. Cuts and bruises marred his body, and his nose was clearly broken, as was his right arm. Shattered, really... It dangled at a twisted angle, fractured in two places. But that didn't matter; it would heal in time. Only the knowledge mattered now. That was the most important thing.
No need for that inoculant. As expected, despite his wounds, the Qliphothic corruption didn’t affect his essence in the slightest. The most it would have done was made the healing process a bit more laborious. His eldritch nature wouldn't let him succumb so easily to the corrosion of such a crude Qliphothic creature.
A chime from his AetherLink went off in his pocket.
[Directive 1-6: Eliminate the Floor Guardian complete!] Reward: 250 EXP, 50 Quintessence Shards, 5 Experience Core (Basic), a cache of rare quality materials.
Another chime.
[Floor 2 is now unlocked. Proceed when ready.]
He placed his shield on the ground. It was fractured and bent, destroyed from the abuse he put it through. Similarly, the spear had been broken at some point near the start of the battle, when he was struck a particularly powerful blow and had to discard the weapon. It had proven too fragile, really.
As he approached the creature's corpse, he evoked his Voracious Maw of the Abyss. A black, gnashing vortex materialized over his hand. With a curling motion of his fingers, Zark'thul greedily consumed the fallen monster, his essence flaring as it devoured the entity with a hungry fervor. More knowledge filled his mind.
[You've acquired 200 Experience (EXP) from consuming a Swamp Strider Behemoth (Qliphothic)!]
[100 Health has been restored.]
Zark'thul snapped his nose back into place without so much as a wince, earning a round of disturbed expressions from the rest of his retinue. Their attention was more on the maw than his body's current state.
Ignoring them, he turned around to face his battered Agents.
"Good work," he said, gesturing for them to follow. "Back to the Tower."
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Two days later…
[Floor 2]
The elevator door hissed open, revealing a spacious room on the second floor. But unlike the starkly minimal aesthetic of their base on the first floor, this new area had a bit more... substance to it.
Everything gleamed in a sleek, polished veneer. The walls had shifted from a raw, bare material to a hard, marbled surface with an ivory glaze. Curiously, the tile designs had been replaced by glossy, rich hardwood panels that gave the chambers a sense of sophistication and warmth.
Rows of cubicles filled the room. A closed-off lounge area and several windowed rooms with wide desks had been arranged in the space as well, emanating an office-like ambiance.
Huh.
Despite its updated décor, the floor retained a barren emptiness—the chairs, desks, and dividers had a forgotten, untouched air about them, devoid of the clutter and personal touches that would have breathed life into the place. Though furnished and designed, it felt hollow—a shell longing to be inhabited.
Upon stepping out of the elevator, Zark'thul and Elspeth walked a circuit of the room to survey the layout.
He frowned. What purpose was this supposed to serve? Despite his extensive knowledge and intuition, he found it hard to decipher the Tower's reasoning behind such a drastic change in design. Everything so far had served a functional purpose—to some degree or another. What could this office-like setting possibly mean for their strategic growth?
"Explain."
Elspeth, at his side, cocked her head to the left. "The floors represent different phases of your overall operations. This one is to prepare for the eventual 'expansion' of your duties as CEO, providing you and your agents with the proper facilities to engage in that work. As such, we will gain access to new modules—"
"Expansion? Do you mean, I have to do more than complete directives and grow in power?"
She stared back, unblinking. "Yes. The role of a CEO is multifaceted. You wouldn't be in the Tower if it were solely a matter of fighting and growing stronger. On the contrary, each floor expands the scope of what you may pursue here. Our scale of operations will only continue to grow until we are engaging in... well, whole businesses, for lack of a better word. Those ventures will not run themselves. This is the purpose of this floor—to prepare you for that."
"Why were none of these details communicated beforehand?"
"We were in the Tutorial Stage. Detailing all future complexities would overwhelm even someone of your intellectual caliber. It is better to focus on the fundamentals and acclimate to the Tower's offerings slowly, step by step, rather than attempt to absorb everything at once."
Tutorial...?
"Ah." Zark'thul rubbed his brow, suddenly feeling quite weary.
Brushing off that slight to his intelligence, Zark'thul took in their surroundings once again. He had been wondering when the business part of the Tower's theme would kick in. This was probably the first step in that direction.