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  Put me back, PUT ME BACK! I fight against the surge of the thrashing tide that carries me up higher, as I vanish from my body, as I become no more. As I float. Limbo. Darkness. I twist and I writhe and I squirm, but I have no body. The shapeless blob of ethereal mass that I am wiggles and writhes like a sack filled with worms, indistinct, but disgustingly fluid in its ambulations. Why was that thing there?! Why was Nichodemus there?!

Put me back. PUT ME BACK! I twist and I fight the cosmos that holds me so tight, like a giant pressing down against a child with a single finger it stops me with laughably little effort. I am rendered helpless. I float.

  Is she okay? Wait. Wait… If Nichodemus killed me, that means the dungeon reset, right? That means it didn’t get her right? Right?! Yeah! Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, that’s it, that’s right. That’s right. I died, so the dungeon reset. Everything is fine. Everything is fine, right, guy? Right? You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right? Yeah! Yeah you would, I know you would! Haha. Haha!

Bmmmmmmmmmh-

Hahaha!

I float.

My last respawn was on the bridge, so since I unlocked a few floors since then, that means… next should be the floor with the thing that skitters, unless there aren’t any trash mobs there. In which case… the battlefield?

I float.

The battlefield.

I float.

That should be fun, right? But I won’t have time to stay, I’ll have to go up to the next floor and wait for her there. I bet she’s confused, fair enough. So am I, h-

It drags me back.

  The choir of the fallen sings aloud, creating a harmonious chant that only those who are attuned to it can hear. Thousands of voices, high-toned, low-toned. All come together. All unify in this one single pursuit. In pursuit of divinity itself. I soar between the rows of the glorious dead, their proud cries singing out as one great, harmonious chant. It has no melody. It has no rhythm, yet it is divine. Blessed. Blessed are these, the pure who lay now slain, hallow are these the bleeding whose flesh twists no longer. There is nothing more pure. I circle a pile of the corpses, they all reach up to me, beckoning me, summoning me as is the will of the maker above that I am blessed to fulfill.

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  Raising my arms as I swoop down towards them, I feel the great mystical energies flow through me, as my bare feet touch the stone floors that have long since been turned into a thin layer of dirt from all of the millions of steps taken over them. The warriors fighting to the death around myself make way for me as I land, my wings flapping not with a mighty gust, but with the gentle kiss of the void-borne gale. Hallow. Hallow! I look at the dead before me, their eyes cry, they hurt. Blessed. Blessed is this pain of theirs. My arms reach towards the skies that are so, so very far above this pit that is near the core of the world and the magic flows through me once more.

A great shift occurs as all of the dead rise up at once, hallow, blessed. As this earth around myself consecrates and the pale aura seeps out in all directions like a blessed rain in the desert, they rise. They rise like flowering buds.

And they rise, so do I to return upwards. Hallow. Sanctified. Pure. Only my gaze falls down one last time to scan the battlefield, and there I see a glint of a pair of green eyes shine at me from below.

I stop.

  It’s just a goblin. She charges a minotaur head-on with surprising tenacity, she’s not even close to his size, but that doesn’t deter her. She leaps, jumping over the arc of his great-maul and latches on to his neck, stabbing him over and over with a rusted dagger. Size doesn’t matter. Purity, will, determination. That is what is what is most holy, that is the most divine attribute of them all. Of all the great feelings of the living, love, hate, fear, determination, anger, passion, none of them stand upright in comparison to the one that the gods cherish most dearly of all. The single emotion that will save any soul, no matter how far fallen. Conviction.

Conviction. Glory. Glory is to be found in such a thing alone. I see that in her green eyes as the minotaur grabs her and throws her to the ground, getting ready to swing his hammer and crush her entirely, as his neck bleeds profusely. Her green eyes shine.

Green eyes.

Green eyes.

I feel them watching me.

  I look around. Where am I? Is this the battlefield? Well, dumb question. I look at my hands, I must be one of the valkyries. Green eyes. My head snaps to the side, to the secret staircase that is on the far side of the great tree above us and I fly towards it with lightning speed. With conviction. I’m coming.

  My body is like that of a human woman’s, but it is made out of a pale, blueish-white glow of condensed light. My wings, much the same. Only a white cloth garment in the form of a half-robe covers my silhouette. I fly towards the branch and reach the secret stairs. None of the others try to stop me. They know not where I go, but they see it in me as well. That holy emotion. I step up the staircase that is too narrow to fly over, and I run. I run. I run.

My steps make no sound, as I climb higher and higher up the secret stairs, as I sprint towards that place. Towards that electrical hum. And once more, I reach the room, and once more the wall seals behind myself, trapping me inside; this time alone. It hums.

  Still sprinting in a frenzy, I rush around the corners and hallways, I run past the wires that occasionally zap the magical energies of my wings to little affect. Until I reach the chamber with the many robed meditate, imprisoned beings. Once more, their hollow eyes turn to watch me as I pass, though I spare them no mind. I don’t have time for them. I run further, down the first corners and look. The crack. It’s still there in the wall. I look behind it.

There is no glow. It is simply a dark hole that leads to nowhere.

Rising up to my feet, I run around the next corners, to the room with the real staircase. There is nothing here.

That’s fine. I hurried. I’m early. They’ll be here soon. She’ll be here soon.

I look around. I know. I know what I’ll do. I bend down to dig through the pile of coins. I’ll find her ring for her, she’ll be happy about that. Yeah. Yeah!

My hands dig through the pile of gold coins that clink all around myself, the noise is the only interruption to the constant, ever-present sound of the hum. I hate gold. I hate coins. But it’s fine! It’s fine! I dig, my eyes growing wide as I search through the mound.

I do it for her, after all.