John Harken

The vision before him was exquisite. Absolutely and wonderful. Everyone working in concert to not only defeat their foes, but reshape the world. He was filled with mirth, laughter freely escaping while recasting his buff spells upon the Sixty.

There was another rush of joy as his Mana draped over the crowd and translucent armor flashed into existence for a moment. That connection of powers set a flow of emotions back to him. The priestly man sipped upon that mix like a fine wine. It was euphoria, it was fear, it was carnage, it was all the flavors of humanity on the edge.

He was enthralled.

Putting their lives on the line was a terrible need, but there was an elevation in it. These people he had been summoned with had been uplifted by their experiences. Though many would venomously deny it, Harken would not. The Sixty was better for The Pit. His mad truth that no other would accept.

Not even Roseline. She laughed at the notion, unpleasantly.

There was loneliness in being the sole believer of a thing. Harken didn’t mind, it was a familiar sensation in the end. One could make a strength of being able to stand alone. Having others around was undeniably nice, but unnecessary to a good life.

He mused to himself as the Sixty surrounded the great Kor Crab. The monster, despite being crippled, resisted with incredible gusto. The wounded were pulled back almost constantly as the great claws scythed back and forth. Healers made sure that those returning to the fighting flowed back with equal flow. Like ants, they were swarming and overwhelming the larger creature.

Magic crackled in the air and the clang of weapons rang in the bowl of the floor.

Harken breathed in the wintery air, enjoying the sharpness. This moment was magical, all of their might was on display. New tricks forged against the wall of difficulty. They were transforming gloriously. Filled with white light, he reached for the future. Earnestly seeking to see what would become of them. Reality stretched as seconds became infinite.

It was revealed to him, time and possibility. The priestly man saw past this victory into the trials and victories to come. Of the defeats and losses. Everything swirled together into a whole that was too large for him to hold. The machines of existence revolved all around as Harken tried to grasp at understanding. To take pieces. He sought to grant himself clarity in the rush of events surging past his mind’s eye.

This was different from last time, when there had been some guiding hand to the vision. He had been granted those sights, a will or universe answering his prayer. This time it was entirely a manual outreach. A breath, Harken needed a breath to understand.

Things slowed down not a bit.

He accepted the limitations of his current self and accepted what the world would offer. Mentally spreading his person out to embrace the multitude of visions. The future flowed within, random snippets flashing as images. Most were incomprehensible. Nuggets of knowledge that descended into his subconscious for deeper consideration. His Heartsong would process what was worth there was. The rest were a few, scattering moments of clarity that filled his heart with equal parts horror and exaltation.

They would rise. Always rising. Soaring up into the sky. Flashes of blood, theirs, and others. It had in truth always been the key forward. Trials, tribulations, trauma forging them stronger and stronger. Tears and laughter interposed a thousand times into masks. Before them was a length of victories as each became not just empowered, but truly an expression of themselves. Then tragedy.

Sixty lines of light flying into the infinite of the future, one flares before spiraling off into the void. Lost, gone, departed. The priestly man’s heart swelled with sorrow. He knew exactly who.

That future scared him, yet it was wispy and uncertain. Too far off to be stone yet. He would need to speak with Roseline on this, she must have seen it coming too. Or would soon. The moon-eyed woman would know how to avoid it.

The sudden switch to coherent thought made Harken realize he was falling out of the trance. Everything was narrowing down to a single human’s perspective. There was a gift to this delicate moment as the connection to the universe remained and the priestly man could more actively control his sight. He used it to look at this fight.

Time reverted to normal and he fell to a knee. The backlash washed over him, pain and nausea as his mind reconfigured itself. Harken’s head felt swollen. He wobbled a little while standing up, the world shimmered and shook. The pressure passed a few seconds later.

He had foreseen the queen had one last trick left. Devastating if not countered and the Sixty would soon push the monster to trigger it. There were preparations to make.

Amelia Strong

The spear twirled and a cyclone of purple flames surged towards the thrashing crab. Her cruel flames dug into the exposed flesh. It shuttered from her assault and a dozen others. A claw swung at them, but could not overcome the bulwark of shield barriers. Mana sparked at the impact and white flames sealed the cracks.

She shifted position, running down the battleline. The Sisters had made great use of the shieldwall. Their usual hit-and-run tactics had changed from a free movement style to a siege style during this fight. Darting back and forth to spread their cursed flames wherever they could. It was fair to say all three of them were successful at their task. Where chitin was cracked, the multicolored flames flickered.

Still, the queen crab fought vigorously. The battle felt one sided, but the Sixty couldn’t relent as the monster’s frantic defense never slowed. Exhaustion was beginning to show in everyone’s stances. Even with healing magic, there was only so far a body could be pushed.

Most of all, the mind could not be propped up in the same way.

There was a timer running down on this fight.

Another barrage of magical might slammed into the Kor Crab. A spectrum of explosions that sent blue blood and chitin flying. The monster shuttered and an attachment broke from the lines. Amelia watched them charge straight at the right claw. There were a great many heavy hitters in that swarm of humanity, all glowing with power.

Malachi, taking the lead, cast three spells in quick session. Translucent chains slammed the claw to the ground and ghostly spears impaled straight through the chitin from the ground. Golden lightning sparked, booming as the stone sword sent a stunning wave of electricity through the monster. The leader of the Sixty sloppily backed away, but his unique barrier spells didn’t fail.

Royal blue and orange flashed as two figures rocketed into the air above the claw. Warner struck first as a comet, fist first, but with the whole of his Mana armored body behind the attack. Shattering cracks rippled outwards from the impact. He ducked away as Julia meteored down with her hammer. The shattered chitin crumbled across the claw and up the arm. Blood and raw flesh were exposed to the air. A single slash of rose Mana and the claw came free from the monstrous crab.

The attachment fled as the queen gave an unholy howl that seemed to darken the sky.

Amelia felt the pulse of Mana in that air and then there was a vortex pulling everything towards the crab’s jagged mouth. She stabbed the spear into the grow with a sheath of Mana, trying to brace against it. Out of nowhere a double layer bubble encapsulated the Sixty. The layer directly around them was clearly Leon’s and somehow Damien had cast simultaneously to cover the outside of the dome. They could hear themselves breathing perfectly within, but the outside was muffled.

Safely protected, they watched as frost-covered trees, chunks of ice, and debris flew into the bloody maw of the Kor Crab. Lights dimmed further as every second passed. Mana rumbled outwards as something happened inside the monster. Everything that had been consumed was fired back out like a shotgun blast. Their barrier withstood like rubber. Bending, but not breaking.

Seeing all that power brought to bear, the spear Sister felt awed. Her power wasn’t anything to sniff at, but there was so much more that could be accomplished. She felt all three of them needed to push their limits. Their stagnation needed to come to an end and embrace empowerment. Their curse flames were simply the beginning of possibilities. Dreadful possibilities.

The queen crab finally sagged. It gave a mournful cry and tried to shuffle away on broken limbs. Pitifully, the last claw unsuccessfully bashed at the ice to break through. The dome dissipated and the Sixty rushed forward to bring about the final blow.

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Amelia, though, paused.

This creature would never hesitate to kill her, but she hesitated. Seeing the hopeless monsters made her heart hurt. Emotion swelling with empathy at the broken, beaten thing. The only merciful thing to do as the others were trying, was put the crab down. Free from misery, but terribly free from life. She wept, for causing harm did not come naturally to her. For all the resentment for being stolen away, the desire to get revenge, and so many unwanted grudges, the truth was Amelia simply wanted peace. Only communion, not violence.

She cried for the necessity of their survival, but knew there was no other way. There wouldn’t be any enjoyment in this; power claimed only for the sake of freedom. For that alone, the spear Sister would continue this journey. With tears, but onwards she would go.

With one last ache of the heart, the queen died and dust swirled in the icy winds of the Domain spell. Core collection began, but Amelia chose instead to stand vigil for the once queen. She would forge a memory to carry with her up into the higher floors. A reminder not to lose her compassion in the violent climb for unwanted power.

“The blood worked, the door is open,” called out Malachi over the quiet battlefield. “And… yup, Porsha has confirmed that the floor exit is there.”

A cheer roared from the Sixty and Amelia joined in bittersweet.

Phelian Starr

The battle against the Kor Crabs had been grueling and he never had the chance to leave the shieldwall. His shield was needed every second, first with the horde and then the queen. It was very clear to him now why they desperately kept the Ratsin King away from them. Something that huge was brutally strong. With Mana in the equation, a giant monster’s speed was rarely slow.

Had the Sixty gone face to face with the Ratsin King, Phelian was unsure their shieldwall would have lasted as it did against the queen. The comparison was a testament to their growth.

For those reasons, there wasn’t room for regret at his passive contribution. Though, he did, and that was despite his best efforts. Watching the other Council members make big splashes in the fight was irritating. Phelian knew his effort at the front and center of the shieldwall were equal, but nowhere near as flashy. How many would think of his strength when reflecting on the queen? He worried, and felt guilty for it, that he was being forgotten.

That his achievements would be overlooked.

An insidious fear that grew roots almost instantly. He could not dislodge the digging need to make an impression in the next fight. Flashy and bright. Not to show off per se, but to be an important asset like everyone else was in this fight against the Kor queen. Phelian wanted to be a hero too.

Hector seemed to sense some of this and poured on the compliments. It was a good reminder that someone saw the good he did. Further, those in the shieldwall added their own appreciation. From their perspective, Phelian had kept things from falling apart on several occasions. His white flames had flared out several times to energize and strengthen the barriers around him. He hadn’t noticed. Surging his Mana into the interlocked shield had been entirely instinctive.

They all walked together up the marked trail to the exit gate. Hiked in laughter and shared grousing. It soothed his worries some. Yet the need remained slithering under the surface, but for now, Phelian could enjoy the victory for its own sake. With everyone. As they already were.

Is my obsession dangerous? Should I cool it? Just be happy to play my part and only the occasional spotlight? I know in me is the power to be extraordinary. Not just in comparison to Before, but even amongst my extraordinary companions. It doesn’t seem wrong to me to excel, to use your inborn talent. Is it wrong to want to be acknowledged?

To be validated for the worth you know you have?

“I just want to be seen, by everyone,” whispered Phelian. He tried not to think about his dad.

Hector turned from a funny story Nicholas Vargas was telling about needing to pee during the shieldwall. They all knew that pain and the man knew how to play it up for a tale.

“What did you say?”

Phelian muttered, “Nothing, nothing. Wonder what the next floor will be like?”

“God, who knows with this place? Maybe lava tubes! That’d be some bullshit we’d be expected to figure out.”

“Seems a little early for that, I’m thinking there’ll be a desert soon.”

His partner grimaced. “That would be unpleasant, I don’t want to fight monsters that would call sand dunes home.”

“Could just be hardpan desert,” pointed out the ascended guardian.

“Like that’s really going to be any better. Deserts are the worst.”

“Beautiful though, awesome and ferociously silent.”

The defender smirked, “Let’s see if you keep that positive attitude when you're marching across one in that armor.”

“Wait, aren’t you from Texas? Wouldn’t you be used to deserts?”

“It's not that kind of wasteland, there isn’t desert over the whole state. Regardless, it just makes my hate more experienced. Trust me, a desert floor will be unpleasant.”

With a laugh, Phelian ceded the argument.

In all fairness, his only experience with deserts was driving through them and brief stops at turnoffs. The silence those views invoked in his parents might be the real reason for his good opinion of such inhospitable terrain.

For the rest of the hike, he took part in the walking conversations, shoving the desire for glory to the side. When they arrived at the black spire, quiet fell on the Sixty like a wave as each person entered the clearing. There was a haunting beauty to the structure. Clearly intelligently made, but from an entirely different perspective. Phelian stood aside to take his time in admiring the craftsmanship. The looping carvings were hypnotic.

Hector and he joined the end of the line so that they wouldn’t be rushed to see what it looked like inside. Julia had done the same and shared a smile with them. The balcony door opened into a room of fragile antiquity. Odd stone furniture that only made sense if you tried to consider the needs of a sapient crab.

It was a hard twisting of thought, but Phelian was fairly confident in identifying most of the objects. Bed, dresser, desk, several chairs, and an assortment of ordinary home pieces. All stone. The walls were decorated with further cravings, though images this time. He got the feeling these were personal to the ancient owner.

They twisted around a few times and then descended awkwardly large steps into a space connected to other rooms that lacked a balcony. Phelian pondered if this was a single living space. All he could really say was that windows didn’t appear to be common for the former Kor Crabs. There was a stairway that corkscrewed downwards, but it was sealed by megalithic slabs of granite. The gray stone clashed with the unknown black stone of the spire.

More carvings on the walls, so many carvings on every inch of it. Phelian, with Hector in tow, peered into each room. They weren’t alone in checking out the alien spaces. The Sixty paused at opening the golden doors as many groups quietly rotated through.

Taking long and short looks.

It was hard not to feel something of sorrow for the loss of a fellow intelligent species. On Earth, humanity was utterly alone, but on this world that was so untrue that there were creatures that had lost that precious spark. It was wondrous and tragic.

Once everyone regathered, the Sixty activated the door and passed into the recess between floors. The murals this time showed a strange timeline. Perhaps in inspiration of the doom of the Kor Crabs. Civilizations rose up, struggling and achieving much before something unformed destroyed them. Over and over it was played until the last section before the next floor’s door. There a victory was claimed as a golden beam struck the unformed darkness and the cycle came to an end.

Scrios, he thought.

The cloaked figure appeared and a second later Xavier dropped the hood to begin his next speech.

“The tragedy of the Kor Crabs is one of many in the story of Scrios, the Agebreaker. That cycle of destruction went farther back than we could imagine, Thoth’s record opened our eyes. Many of the races of our world were uncaring of this, resigned to the god’s coming as if it was natural law. No different than the tides. The Elves saw it as a righteous cleansing, the Dwarves hid in the dark, and the Orcs embraced the chaos as a festival.

“We humans, however, refused to accept this.”

“Once we grew powerful enough to pass on the knowledge through the dying of an Age, a group was formed. The Singers were the seed, their cause that no story be lost. Though they did not join the first few Eons, the Breakers grew stronger. Gathering knowledge in everything to one day slay Scrios. The world thought it an impossible task, but humanity didn’t bulk. Irrationality no bar to us.

“We would see it done. For everyone’s sake as much as our own.”

“In the last Eon… it was supposed to be the last… Excuse me, in the last Eon I was invited to join this society. The cause was just, but to learn of the long conspiracy was world changing. A truly ancient society that was in the shadow behind everything, though swearing off direct involvement. An oath that was upheld more often than it wasn’t. Learning the true nature of the world’s cycles made the squabbles of every day a petty thing.

“I can’t say I was the final piece to the puzzle or that my involvement secured success. There were many brilliant people in my Age that joined the Breakers. What can be said is that our society finally created a weapon capable of slaying the god for good. The parts were all there, every legendary artifact of slaying, a prototype. The Sages and I put it all together.

“Through us, the legacy of the Breakers slayed Scrios. Forever.”

“You already know how humanity was rewarded.”

“In accomplishing the fifth floor you have unlocked a privilege. One only withheld for your own good, but it is no longer necessary to deny you. Your foundation is strong and good equipment will now only excel you rather than cripple you. Make good use of this new power, Inheritors.”

“As always, I wish you luck in your ascent.”