Day 56

Phelian Starr

The break was a short one. After two days everyone was eager to get moving again. The electricity of momentum was surging morale high and the Sixty was confident that they would soon be celebrating the number four. They went to the new floor with good cheer, excitedly proud to see what new challenges there were to overcome. Success felt certain. Inevitable.

Phelian stepped through the Gate and looked at the endless golden hills waving across the plains. Sweat immediately began pouring from his skin, the heat beyond the doorway was intense. The temperature difference was made all the starker by a noticeable division. A thin line in which cool air was lost to Serengeti heat. He wasn’t alone in looking back fondly to the dim hall behind them. It was like walking into an oven, light seared from above and the ground baked you from below.

There were concerns about how to proceed with this floor. What direction to go was unclear. Reluctantly, people scattered to the closest hilltops for a look around. The grass made it hard going, being waist high and even shoulder height in places. Making your way was close to swimming.

“The fourth floor is truly our greatest challenge yet,” joked the arisen warrior with less humor than he meant. “I might melt right off the bone.”

“You brought your water, right?” asked Hector. “Last thing any of us need to do is waste a life on heat stroke.”

He smiled and nodded, “Of course!” Phelian tried to keep off his face the flush of shame. The water was only in his bag because it had been forgotten there since floor one. Lucky him, but Hector didn’t need to know that. Even stale and warm, the water was refreshing after climbing a big hill.

The higher altitude didn’t alter the view much. Stretching into a haze, the plains seemed no less endless. There were only more hills to see until the heat choked off the distance. The uniformity of the scenery was unsettling as well. Everything was too unchanging, the hills all blended together in the golden grass. Getting lost would be a dire concern.

“It’s Lovecraftian,” muttered Phelian. “Alien and haunting.”

“What’s that?” Hector leaned it, his eyes still squinting for the landmarks they had climbed up for.

“This place, I don’t like it. Seems the sorta place you get trapped in. Makes me feel the same as when I stepped out of my car in Illinois one time. Everything was so flat I felt like the sky was going to suck me up. Despite all logical thinking, there was nothing to save me from that fear than to huddle in my car. Too flat, but this is…”

“Unfixed, too unfixed,” answered Hector.

“Yeah, it feels undefined somehow. As if there are no hard lines or limitations.”

His partner nodded, a frown as they scanned the landscape again. “The real question to ask is this feeling because of the landscape or because of the landscape.”

“I don’t think it is magical,” decided Phelian. “Just untouched and unbroken. There are probably places like this one back on Earth.”

“Either way, there’s nothing to mark a crossing with,” said Hector. “The Sixty have to stick to the border wall this time or get lost. Get in a big enough kerfuffle and I don’t care about the precautions taken, we’ll lose our heading.”

“Especially with this grass…” agreed the arisen warrior.

“What about it? Seems normal to me. Like wheat meets prairie grass.”

“Sure, looks that way, but it's way too springy. Just take another look around and see if you can see where a herd of some kind came through. We all saw it only a couple of days ago. A whole stream of them, like buffalo in the Old West. Can’t find it can you? There should be some kind of trampled path. It should be torn up with that many hooves or whatever stomping the same place. Hell, just look for our pathway.”

“Uh, yeah, there’s nothing to see,” flushed Hector. “That’s creepy. Like we never came through there…”

“Exactly! If not for the border wall or people standing down in the hollow, how would we know which way to go back? This floor is asking for us to get lost and I predict we’ll be forced to traverse the center area. At some point, a challenge will ask that of us.”

Hector rolled over the theory. “Sounds terrible, so yeah that’s going to happen. Think Malachi will march us through the middle anyway? Seems like his MO. Force the challenge rather than be forced by it.”

“Nah, that’s way too reckless for him.”

“Really? Dude fought that red ape by himself, to prove a point!”

Phelian shook his head. “That’s risking himself, alone. Also, that’s an exaggeration. Malachi wouldn’t risk all of us like that. It’ll be circling the edge, at least at first.”

“Not that you think that will work.”

“Nope, some puzzle or monster to hunt will drag us into the sun-heated maze.”

Sighing, Hector turned towards the Gate and said, “Guess we might as well head back down and give our report.”

“One second, I want to try something,” replied Phelian.

He pulled his sword free and swung it at the grass. The result was expected as others had tried this already. Instead of biting into the grass, the blade simply brushed through. Golden blades rose back into place undisturbed. On the second try, white Mana flowed into the blade, and the arisen warrior put forth more of an effort. White flashed as the blade slashed forward. The grass bent out of the way before springing back to position.

Phelian blinked, replaying the experience over. Carefully a hand grabbed a stalk and a little dribble of Mana pooled freely in his palm. The sucking sensation from before appeared again. Down through the grass, the free Mana was pulled down into the roots. Nothing was threatening about the effect, it wasn’t forceful. Just noticeable. A little sip.

Shrugging thoughtfully, the arisen warrior kept a hold of the grass and used his sword. Like green wood, the cutting was difficult but inevitable with enough effort. It was a messy chop. Watery sap stained his hands and the ends were ragged.

“Huh, a defiant blade of grass indeed,” reflected Phelian. Hector rolled his eyes and pushed through the golden flora to head down to the others. He stayed a moment to observe the living half of the grass. The sap flowed for a few seconds before drying into a waxy glaze. His Mana senses tingled, but nothing seemed to happen.

A shadow passed in his peripherals.

His body moved before thought, sword swinging out and the shield tucked into place. Golden blades ruffled in the wind. Waves cresting to the top of a hill and diving into the hollows. Unchanging uniformity. Phelian glanced around as his heart beat in his ears. Looking up, down, and all around, but nothing. He watched for a time to no avail. Just the sea of grass.

Though there had been nothing to see, there was a deepening feeling of unease. The sense of isolation from being alone on top of a hill was gaining daggers. One last pointless scan and Phelian dove through the grass after Hector. Easily choosing to be with others in case something was out there. There were monsters somewhere on this floor.

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The size of the shadow crept into his mind, motivating him to make the descent faster.

Once at the edge of the crowd, Phelian’s mind no longer haunted him with horrors on his heels. Looking back, the hill was quietly innocent again. Only wind drifting grass. No shadows. He shifted his attention to the multiple twinkles of the sunstones. There was nothing there either. Just the heat pressing them down.

“Hector tells me you two saw the same amount of nothing as everyone else,” said Malachi as the arisen warrior arrived at the heart of the gathered Sixty. “There’s a few people on their way back, but I won’t get my hopes up. We’ll walk the border.”

“Until we’re forced to go into the center,” asserted Phelian.

“Basically,” agreed the battlemage. “When that becomes unavoidable, I have a few ideas to mark our way, but the first day on the floor is more of a scouting in force kind of thing anyway. No reason to sweat when we’re only taking a look around.”

“I say we burn it all,” grinned Clarissa. “Allen pulls out a little fire god’s wrath and then bam brush fire! Should take out the whole prairie for us and the monsters. Wildfire would be someone’s friend for once.”

“That’s totally not happening, psycho,” muttered Hector.

The redhead’s eyes jerked right to the man and purred, “Asshole, I will show you a real psycho if you want!”

“He doesn’t,” said Julia as she jerked back her friend and glared at Hector.

“Fire probably wouldn’t work well anyway,” Phelian pointed out. “It’s not dried out at all. Must be golden for some other reason. A magical reason or whatnot.”

Malachi rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on burning the floor out, but good to know it wouldn’t work on top of being a bad idea.”

“You’re just narrow-minded,” said Clarissa before sticking her tongue out. “Mass destruction has a lot of practical applications. Plus everything burns with enough effort.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you… again.”

“Then you concede to my righteous cause! Let us burn these hills to ash!”

“No.”

Those two went back and forth until Julia gave the sputtering redhead a nuggie so Malachi could talk with the rest of the scouts. With no interesting sightings to divert them, the Sixty got moving along the border wall. A penny flipped in the air sent them clockwise by the calling of tails. Phelian felt awkward not going right, but wasn’t about to make an issue of it. In theory, which way made no difference. Only a mild itch since that's the direction in video games he always tried first.

The Sixty kept the hollows, snaking around the hills. Rotating pairs would climb up hills as they marched. Take a look around and then return before the group left them behind. Ahead Reuben and his scouts did a similar task. Between the two systems, they knew what was happening around them. So far, that meant nothing. More empty hillsides. More golden grass.

Several hours of Damien tracking the curve of the wall let them know that the fourth floor wasn’t round, but more likely an oval shape. The Sixty had begun at a narrow end and were maybe a third of the way across. The distance was disappointing, but the allusion to a definite border to the grasslands was comforting to Phelian. Made the hills less non-euclidean.

Past the theoretical halfway point they found their first landmark. A few hundred yards from the border wall was a particularly deep hollow with a pond. The edges were extremely marchy with mud and their first sighting of green vegetation. It was only the center that had unbroken water. Dark water that looked black and cloudy.

Phelian was happy to lead a group to investigate. At this point, the grassland was starting to shift from kinda creepy to boring. A combination of normalization by experience and everything looking exactly the same in the long run. There was only so much entertainment in comparing hill sizes.

As the mud tried to suck down his boot, the arisen warrior reflected on the levitation boots. Mostly on how useful they would be right now, but also regretful he didn’t get to go on that mission. Walking in the sky was mind-blowingly cool.

His party didn’t get very close to the water as the mud got worse deeper in. One step almost saw his boots overflowed and that was far enough for Phelian. He backed out to walk the edge for anything interesting. One thing that became clear was that they weren’t the only thing to try to travel through the marsh. From a few steps up a hill, you could see circular steps in the mud. Little pools of water left behind in the mud.

Strange, thought Phelian. There’s only footprints, well hoof prints, but I don’t see any dragging or limb impressions. Not even at the water’s edge. Those herd things must be really tall…

His mental image of the distantly seen monster was based on a buffalo, but this new information warped them. Two options swung back and forth in his mind, switching between proportionally bigger or long-limbed like a camel. Either was viable. Unfortunately, there were no other hints to their nature or abilities. Phelian wondered what sort of threat these monsters would present.

On impulse, the arisen warrior went back into the march and found some clearish water. He dipped a finger, carefully tasting a drop. Not brackish, but not clean either. There was a strong flavor of iron over dirt.

“Phelian!” cried Hector. “Did you just drink some of that water?!”

He smirked at his partner and said, “O! I think it's fine, just tastes like almonds.”

“What? No, spit it back up!”

Hector had to be pushed away as they tried to physically check his health. “Dude, I was joking. Tasted a little like iron.”

“What about parasites or illnesses? You shouldn’t drink standing water, poison side!”

“I just wanted to check if it was brackish, besides my Mana will burn out that stuff. No one’s been sick since learning how to cycle their Mana. Some standing water isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Well, there could be some kind of magic disease or something like that in the water. Did you consider that? Huh?”

“Jeez Hector, you need to lighten up. The stress is going to kill you before anything else does.”

“And you need to take The Pit more seriously! Everything here is dangerous!”

“I guess, we balance each other out then,” laughed Phelian, trying to end the conversation.

Hector growled, “Don’t dismiss me.”

“I’m not, at least I’m not trying to. Your concern over the water is just silly to me. A little taste isn’t going to hurt me.”

“That’s my point though, you don’t know that! This isn’t Earth. Our concept of normal has been ripped apart. With that one sip, you could curse yourself or sicken with something terrible. Xavier said these floors were once bottled ecosystems for experiments. For all, we know there are things in the water they wanted to study for the deadly effect it had on people. We are walking through a laboratory that was turned into a tool of war. Does any of that put the fear of god in you?”

“Huh, that is scary,” admitted Phelian. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that before… I mean I don’t think anything terrible would be this low in the dungeon, but yeah I’d rather not get something like super magical flu. Lives aside, that sounds unpleasant and I made it up!”

“You say you know this isn’t a game and then say something like that,” Hector shook his head and sighed. “I’m glad you see my point. Maybe just don’t drink pond water? That’s never been a good idea.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll be more thoughtful about the inherent dangers of The Pit,” submitted Phelian. “Not like I want to die of curse-infused dysentery.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to come to another world and just to relive failing that game again.”

“Right!” laughed Phelian. “Anyways, let’s get back. Everyone’s waiting for us, it's time to move on.”

He signaled everyone to depart, but they only got a short distance from the pond when the party got cut off. First, the ground began to rumble and then the smell of torn grass bleached the air. On their left a grassy hilltop split for a stampede rushing down the slope directly at them. At a dozen of the giants wide, the whole party was in danger of being trampled. Shield barriers lit up from Phelian and Hector as the two of them led a retreat toward the pond.

Time slowed as Phelian watched the unending herd crest over the hill. His racing heart inspired his eyes to take in every detail in a rush of fear and thrill. Their size invoked the hulking beasts of the ice age. Broad bodies stilted over powerful long legs, giving an illusion of sailing atop the grass when seen from the side. The mixing traits of bull and camel ended with a grotesque boar’s head. A large snout consumed the face while twitching with the suggestion of dexterous movement. Intelligent eyes bore down on, seeming sorrowful at the coming collision.

The arisen warrior braced for impact. Securing his feet and dug the barrier into the ground. A heartbeat and a breath away. He heard Hector yell out in fearful defiance, the movement of those behind them went still. Their bodies braced against the shield bearers with what mass they could. Another breath under the thunder of hooves. A bestial squeal echoed down the line of the charge.

There was no impact.

In utter surprise, Phelian watched the herd turn on a dime, shifting like a flock of birds. One unified turn. The stampeding beasts continued to pass by them in an arc away from them before realigning with their previous angle. Unperturbed by the curve, they never slowed the pace at all. Raced as if being chased. Maintaining an unbroken line that disappeared over a line of hills to the right.

Wonder and awe died as the hissing of parting grass caught in Phelian’s ear. Dropping the barrier, the arisen warrior dove through his people to protect the rear. Igniting his sword before the giant shape clarified in his shape. Sharp yellow eyes looked down at him from a gigantic snake. The neck curved back as if to study them. A blue-stained tongue flicked out, slithering slowly and lingering over the air’s taste. He got ready to dive into the battle as the great snake revealed its fangs. The hiss was deafening and chillening. Primal fear howled in from within his chest.

The fangs snapped shut before his face as a colossus eagle dropped from the sky and snatched the snake. Phelian watched with an unstable blend of emotions as the two predators soared upwards. The snake fought to be freed, but the bird casually maneuvered to snip the head off. Blood sprayed into the wind and rained down on them. A moment later the head smashed into march a dozen feet from them, adding a second wash of gore.

Above, the great eagle disappeared into the light of the sunstones.