“The world is in pieces?” Razmund glanced at Lint, knowing that the consensus that this world had wouldn't change overnight. It wasn't anything strange. Even without knowing the current problems, Razmund didn't find his wording choice right. The timing was weirder. Almost wrong.
There were not only five large continents, filled to the brim with unique settings and problems on each of them but many islands were all over the tough seas. Then there were the Depths, depicting Dungeons, dwellings of all kins under the Surface, and cave systems belonging, or partially subjective to the Old World. Some of those were creations of the current Battleworld due to a relatively long history spanning tens of millennia.
Still, most Dungeons were the ruins of ancient times when Battleworld wasn't a Battleworld, but a place filled with Chaos that Ravine wasn't managing at all, nor were there many Gods.
To hear that the world was in pieces, Razmund believed in that for a long time, yet in different ways. He was thinking that Lint was making fun of him.
But seeing the serious skull and glowing flames, he got suspicious. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing at all. Just a bit. Just a reminder. Take this room for Mindarch's interest and nothing more. Aftermath depends on your calmness. Are you here, Mindarch? Ready to take it as you demanded? Initiate the end to his madness already.”
[At this point, it seems like an obvious choice.] Mindarch's weak voice whispered to the tunnel, acting as a mild point of interest that was up to all successful Challengers no matter the stake, growth, reputation, or age. He sent Razmund out of the Islands of Greatness, so he had a certain awareness of what was about to happen. After all, there was no one else but him, or... could it change like with Murai's Helpers that heard that tone?
There was a possibility that Razmund would get the same interest.
[Contragulations, again, even if you skipped the Last Island. It wasn't a wrong choice to do it at all, but the next time I see you threatening the Guide, it won't end in anything good.]
Razmund sneered. “Could I threaten you as well? It makes no difference to me.”
[Ah, what a cheeky human. I almost laughed. You Blessed fools and your puny force is a fart for our Lady. Well, it does take some precedence, but you could've skipped much sooner and caught your little prize in Gate 3.] Mindarch straight up laughed, shuddering Lint and giving Razmund no small taunts.
He tensed up, unwilling to hear this topic. True, catching his prey was his priority, but setting the stage and Encounter in mind wasn't so simple.
[Shouldn't that have been your plan, to begin with? Skipping, I mean. Open ways of Hellscape poise as open and everything. I can't seem to see reasons not to wait for him there, eh? Perhaps someone's plans were worse than one lone ridiculously clever spirit would think.]
“Shut the fuck up!” Razmund shouted, his fist clutched the claymore's handle and the Dice. “We do things our ways. Not yours. Boundaries fit all minds of humans. You are a bunch of freaks. Unkept and crazy.”
Mindarch laughed at such a sorry argument. [So it was very insensible of me to assume you wanted to catch that duck sooner? Hilarious, or weird, couldn't you agree, Lint?]
Lint laughed and agreed, weirdly forgetting that Razmund was right there beside him, unhappy. “Precisely. I thought it was weird how he was accomplishing his desire with such difficulty, yet answers were simple when Breaching some workings or rules. It would work, or so I thought to myself. Perhaps it was done intentionally for him to grow, or should we also look at the overall picture again? We have the Hell Party in Paradise, a dog at the entrance, and a cheeky hunter with a broken sword. All in all, it seems like a decent start for an Encounter that forced some things to our place. It can live. This temple lived through worse things.”
[Sure did.] Mindarch agreed.
“But for them,” Lint said importantly, his one hand resting behind his back as he floated like a king. Even his chin was high and his Soul Flames were thick and bright, “it seems they want this lone hunter to succeed more. So it is a chance for Centralis, or so I dare to think. Encounter might answer that, or it might all seem like an overkill, while you, Razmund, are the most stupid one of them all.”
Razmud was a little bit surprised to hear Lint acting like a sudden boss of a gang. Hearing and being overseen by his major boss was the reason why, he assumed.
“Laugh all you want,” Razmund said calmly, which surprised Lint a little bit. “I still took the previous Gates as stepping stones for what I had to do. Perhaps Hellscape is meant to be my stage since it is... so open and easy to put some reputation onwards and let the world know about my Hunt. Thus...” A flash of light suddenly crushed the tunnel, and Lint nearly lost his remaining arm when claymore flashed around in a heartbeat.
Sword Intent put deep fear into Lint's eyes. It was a power that could truly hunt the souls and bodies alike. Lint screeched, backed on instincts alone when Razmund unleashed his proper threat. He hated their mockery with a clear sneer and smile.
This much threat wasn't worth mentioning. It was their reminder. Tenth, or eleventh? He didn't count how many times he wasn't fucked around with, but he wasn't kidding about pushing some boundaries or patience of this place.
[Oy, calm your pencil!] Mindarch shouted, suddenly speaking more crisply and clearly.
“Sure, if you calm your taunts, tool. Speak more sense, for I have my purpose. What is behind me doesn't need to be said. I don't take it lightly. That is all.”
[Freaking Blessed! All of you are like this before the power that could crash you!]
“Can you?” Razmund asked a good question.
[Yes! Not me or now, but what will occur in the next Gate shall be taken in steps. In your head too. Your time isn't welcome there, but as with everything occurring in this place, you can come and see it for yourself. Perhaps you will change your mind dramatically after knowing how much of a blunder you've made just because of setting some stage or your power. Centralis shouldn't be this comfortable, I swear. Not against this.]
“Is that so?” Razmund frowned and backed with his claymore that rested between some of Lint's bones. None cracked or were cut, which was a shocking surprise that Lint took with stoic Soul Flames. “You speak as if you know it all. Centralis is nothing. I am the Side of this Encounter! Me alone.”
Mindach sneered as if the barking of this human adult were the chirps of some child. [You don't have to get my word. I don't have to speak like this at all. But reminders they are.]
“Did something happen with the Hell Party to act like this? Are some Gods unhappy with what is happening? Are Lurrs growling and moaning? Nothing new, I suppose.”
[All of the above and some more. Anyway...] Mindarch audibly sighted. [You are a damned mess. Clueless mess, even. Don't take offense, but I pity your attempts and ideas. Your target isn't even that quick or strong, but it grows and does its job. You could've...]
“Could've... Would've... Nothing is important in guesses and what-ifs. What are you talking about? Is there something that you are hiding?”
[You will see that. Now, cease that blade tough. Lint, do your work. I will be seeing you.]
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Mindarch ceased his voice, ending this brief recognition that wasn't that good. Razmund didn't take their ideas for some sort of reminder anyway, though they sure acted and talked weirdly. He was a far too fervent follower of his Blessed status and his time in Centralis Kingdom was his childhood. The one that appointed him in this way, but in no way forced.
Turning to the door that Lint previously mentioned, he frowned. “Not gold? Fair enough. What of my line and those not-killings? Do they validate something, or was it a joke?”
“You think Golded Room is for everyone?” Lint argued. “And mind you, could I mention how many foes you've killed again?”
That shut him up. He knew he was close to snapping a lot of things and patience for his purpose was thin. Thankfully, tough foes helped with that premise, as he was rarely able to crash them with his potion-less attacks.
Perhaps Silver Room will have to do for his needs and replenish his potion just enough. That, or he could buy them in the Hellscape. Silver was the second best option anyway, so Razmud looked at the dozen-meter-wide door resembling a gate. Not far was was the Golden Door, filled with embroidery and hidden value of ridiculous discounts. One could truly put points to good use there, but in terms of treasures, Silver and Gold weren't that far apart. Golden value was in the discount that it possessed, as well as it had some interesting things at the higher bracket of Hell Points.
However, meeting its demands and seeing its worth was hardly easy. One had to truly crash one of the Gate 2s to get there.
Razmund didn't do that. He struggled for all good reasons as a third-timer who was under very harsh limiting factors. It was also a clever way to make a difficulty harder because not killing his foes was nonsense. He killed and what happened? It wasn't as if he lost his life or an arm or a leg.
Razmund knew there existed worse limiting factors since this place was full of such gimmicks at this Level. However, he hated how it crushed his Hunt like this, so perhaps he set his expectations in the wrong direction and purpose. He could only blame himself for that.
Looking around, Razmund knew Golden Room was a facade that held far too ridiculous requirements that Levandis took only for her forces. Never to the Surface Challengers.
It went without surprise that it was old and filled with dust, and who knew if someone was there in a month or a year? However, thanks to his keen eyes, he noticed a couple of peculiar things.
For once, the door opened inwards, and some notes of dust aside were off, indicating openness that happened less than a day ago. Then, there was also something... else. Razmund shook as he saw it. Focusing his eyes on the barely notable footprints, he turned and walked aside.
Tiny little spots in the dust below the door indicated rough ducks' footprints. It wasn't as clear, thanks to the relative darkness in this room, but because of the dust, Razmund had no doubts about it.
And he was furious when he saw the footprints disappearing inside the Golden Room. Crouching, he ignored some light chuckles coming from behind him. Frowning and looking down with a sheer focus to imagine the rest of the footprints, it was standing right there, right now.
A duck that he hunted. It was there.
Razmund squeezed his hands, ready to quench this desire at any moment, but he had no duck to hunt in this tunnel. It was just a vision. A hallucination that he envisioned, and manipulated in his mind.
Though he knew it had to wait, patiently taking a nice spot in his heart, right alongside his murder and insanity. It will wait. It had to.
The Silver Door creaked open right when Lint calmed down and pretended to be a fine Guide. Razmund followed Lint into the Silver Door that would fit a lot of races. For him, it wasn't about the size of this place, nor its worth. He was curious about his points. He wondered what he would get, considering he killed quite a lot of beings. At least he got the essence out of them. Well, at the cost of going against the flow, so there were no doubts there were some upcoming deductions because he couldn't be bothered more about such silliness.
Still, his points shouldn't be garbage. It should be enough for him to purchase and refill his potions that weren't necessarily that rare or expensive. Their combo and usage was what made them so powerful.
Razmund remembered the value of what the Golden Room held from rare instances of some lucky bastards. Considering the time and talents of some Challengers, many did reach it, thus giving this temple the taste and power of the Surface. It also acted as a hyped momentum and cleverness on Levandis pride. After all, it was there to act as a stick with a hanging carrot. Most rewards were nothing more than that.
Razmund had some doubts about how clever or good such a thing was. Perhaps it was a clever idea to force more Challengers from the Surface inside, yet wasn't it also hitting herself in the foot? The Centralis Kingdom knew what they were doing and cleverly put a lot of thought into the Seventh Death Forest. Not a whole lot of people would get into this temple without their awareness.
Razmund didn't know the details or questionable politics or decisions that might go behind the scenes. Surface didn't know everything about this temple, which was expected. One would even say, there might be fake rewards with inside prices, just so the temple would proclaim there was something beyond the Silver Room.
For a long time, no one in history knew what kind of thing to expect from Hells. But his prey went there. There were no footprints around the Silver Door, as it was maintained and clean.
Razmund didn't need specifics. He considered the Keys to be more severe than these Rooms combined and wondered if his target chose, or where its journey in those Islands ended up. Was it really the Last Island? Did it succeed? If so, perhaps this Golden Room wasn't an exaggeration.
And that hut with its Artifacts and Influence Items was nothing sneaky. Its insignificance was night and day for those reaching Laws. What about some valuable equipment pieces above Level 70 that could turn the tides of interest, giving value and powers equal to Law Artifacts? There might be some in this Room. It depended on the crafts and effects, but Razmund had no doubts that for some Classes and Paths, equipment was a very important aspect.
Well, Razmund held just a single piece of battle equipment right now. He had limited need for armor, as it usually hindered his movement and Physique. As a Falconer in his missions, he wore their armor just because he had to.
In this way, rewards in these rooms were a small exaggeration, but the fact was, that reaching the end of this Gate was enough. Silver or less, the worth was often equal to points and Challanger's accomplishment, or Level. That was the fact that Razmund had to accept.
Desiring more was greedy. It was laughable, thus Razmud wasn't taking this Silver Room for something special. It was full of curiosity, true, as it was prone to some gritty challenges and stunts. It was publicly known what each Challenger picked from these tunnels, so Gate 3 should know that his target went through the Golded Room. That should help him with his hunt and see what his target accomplished.
It was a good idea to take the potency of rewards and valuables as an interesting and unprecedented desire. Levandis wasn't the first to do that, nor the last. After all, it was fairly effective in driving all sorts of beings into a frenzy and giving easy rewards and greed some choices. Reaching further into the Gates, desiring what was inside, it was the power of greed and curiosity that could change one's life. Just in terms of essences coming from some kills, every point mattered when one considered this place and the Surface. Keys were just one part of many things this place offered.
Razmund was no different. He took this temple as one of the best essence-gathering places in the Battleworld, right beside the power of money in general. Money wasn't infinite, as endless ways to improve never crashed the markets. This world was rather intense in that approach.
It was the same situation with countless Dungeons that held all kinds of rewards, hidden rooms, unique treasures, or locations filled with crazy places from old histories, or secret societies. Every piece of information mattered when one was set to go into them. Every Dungeon Delver knew it.
Improvement was always a step closer when rewards followed rough battles and missions. Across the Battleworld, that was a rule that didn't change even without the Order in sight. Perhaps it turned even worse since many restrictions set upon some Dungeons were lifted and gone, while some organizations and royalty couldn't change that either. In fact, they might take advantage of that as long as some Gods didn't forbid it via their Messengers.
Not here, of course. Levandis was a God of this place, which was something that most Dungeons didn't have. Well, the Will of the Battleworld governed over the distribution and rules of most Dungeons, so... it was terrible and good on many levels.
Razmund had seen Silver Room in his last visits as well. There was a large space beyond the open gate. It was not empty or dusted like the one Murai visited, but it still had dark spaces and fog littering every corner, shelf, or crate. It was a regular procedure and act of protection. This Room resembled a part of a library, as it was large and it even had multiple stories. There were many shelves filled with equipment covered by that fog and considerably tight corridors made this place packed. There was endless clutter of things lying everywhere, creating not that open space.
This palace was filled to the brim with treasures and valuables not one bit worse than Golden Room.
Lint floated forth and in a moment, used his gaze to set aflame a couple of lanterns and torches around the walls, brightening the room and corridors with light. Then, the fog cleared. Reward upon treasures, treasures upon the rewards, this place didn't look shabby at all. There were chests, tables, and many crates that were open or closed. Not everything had some tag, as the flow of rewards from this place was always shifting among many subjects.
Ridiculous wealth was in this place, acting as a gathering of wealth that this place was constantly shifting, accumulating, spending, or using.
Razmund wanted to spit on them, yet he walked right inside. Into a place that was usually closed to any visitors. He felt if he raided even a single room, he would be dead in less than a minute. It was far too secure because valuables from most Gate 2s and Gate 3 were all over this place.
This place will do, Razmund was sure of that. He noticed the section with potions straight away, but he still had some things to do first.
There were Mana Tomes, crates filled with gold or other currencies, and a wide variety of forging, runesmithing, or alchemy materials. Everything seeped with mana, giving this place a unique flavor. Even basic currency was like that.
It was exactly how Razmund remembered, so he quickly found things that he wanted, ignoring the fact that he was yet to know how many points had had.
It was that sort of magical sight that made most Challenger hopeful with greed. Everything was valuable in this stash that Levandis took by force or lives. Challengers could take anything from this place, as long as their points were enough.
Unfortunately, even if their desires were strong and accomplishments great, they would never get even a point of a point out of this Room. Then, there was another issue that was part of the next Gate. Unless their power was reputable and great, a surprising amount of Challengers would lose their rewards because of thieves, duels, or lack of power. Hellscape was no sorry place. It was a place filled with those closer to Chaos.
“Well, it's the same story as always,” Razmund sighed and looked at Lint aside. “What are my points?” he inquired the usual stuff that Guides were used for. Since Mindarch didn't mention them before, it was Lint's time to shine.
“The Will of the Battleworld should have already descended,” Lint mumbled enough for Razmund to hear, though he acted strange and restrained. His lies were personal and he still believed that Razmund was naive and hopeful for something that wouldn't come.
Strangely enough, speaking of the world, and the world around the corner, some kind of message arrived, giving Razmund a voice and reason Lint had never expected.
The flush of weird power and intent flooded this place, forcing mana outside, and even the light ceased to exist. The room tensed up, and even Mindarch was sorry for this mess. He overlooked something important, similar to Levandis.
This upcoming voice was nothing and nobody simple. It was different from what David and Ultium heard. This one reached Razmund and Lint, speaking openly, and even Mindarch voiced his wonder in open hatred.
[Who do we have here? HUH! What a cheek you have, God! No.... are you... a Judge?!]
Whatever it was, something descended with a voice of reason, giving Razmund favorable clarity over this mess.