Vincent Salvador

Watching Molly and her party depart on the necromantic beetle was freeing for the swordsman. She was a dependable ally, but her humorless dedication could wear on you. Suggesting they stick together was simply him following Malachi’s protocols. Recklessness was too ingrained, it was hard for Vincent to know when he crossed a line. Following at least the letter kept him out of trouble.

Now, with the splitting up, each of the parties could do what they really wanted. Molly could grind out the solution for the floor and Vincent was free to go hunting.

Any clues found would just be extra, he was looking for a good fight.

“Alright, I’d say those whispers are coming from the right, somewhat back the way we came,” said Vincent. “Shall we take a look?”

There were more grins to mirror his own than not. Russel and Annabell didn’t quite have the blood thirst that the others had developed under his tutelage. Not that they held the rest of the party back. Enthusiasm aside, the party was always united.

I got lucky with this bunch.

Vincent ranged ahead as the party traced the ghostly voices. Annabell stayed with and led the rest. His leadership style was definitely more hands-off than the others. Though the trust between them was no less. Enough battles had forged an understanding and taught him to stay focused on the battle as a whole rather than solely on his part. He wouldn’t let that trust break, it meant something to him.

Through the spires of the stones he prowled, focusing past the false cries for attention. Hearing the crunch of gravel behind him and all the little sounds of nature in the rugged environment. Was that scattering stone just weight and time? Or was it a hint of the enemy? Only the wind or hidden foes?

He paused when there was a shift in the sounds. The faintness made it hard to be sure, but the pleas and encouragements were certainly no longer only ahead. Encroaching, their flanks were slowly being covered. An encirclement by careful inches. Vincent signaled his party then got moving again. Hunting this prey required drawing them out.

A trap could always be reversed.

It will be, thought the swordsman with a grin.

They kept moving until the whispers seemed to come from all around them. Intimate claims, urging one to look all around for their loved ones. Obvious attempts to disorientate and spin a victim around. The party played as if it was working.

From the corner of his eyes, Vincent got a glimpse of the approaching threat. It was a grotesque lizard. Likely the same type as those Russel gleaned from a distance. A body of gray scales and disproportionate suction cup hands. The most distinguishing feature was the eyes, bulbous sacks that protruded on either side of the head. White mist swirled within.

More peeked out all around them, differing only in the warty growths that infected each. When the ambush was sprung the whispers devolved into static screams. Even prepared for the attack, Vincent was stunned for an unhealthy moment.

It dug into the ear and caused waves of nausea.

The lizard lunging at him got in close enough he was staring through the needly fangs before he could move. A flash of rose light and Vincent stepped out of the way of the gore. It still screamed. Sliced in half, the monster stared with those misty eyes with a rising screaming. He moved to silence it when the skittering claws warned him.

Vincent spun and batted the next beast out of the way. As the dying lizard and the new one positioned for another attack, he flashed through the possibilities. Entrails wildly slapped about as the first monster charged. Offering itself no defensive chance as the second moved in the wake.

Sacrifice.

A sword of pure light appeared in his offhand as the swordsman whirled into the attack. Shredding and spilling. The monsters collapsed behind him.

“They’re pack hunters,” called out Vincent as he retreated to his party.

Being out alone had been meant to lure more attention, but these lizards hadn’t been very tempted by the bait. The majority had turned their attention onto the others. Some screamed static from the high ground while others pressured the defensive formation physically.

They still held though, appearing increasingly pale and sweaty. The mental attack was wearing on them. Standing on the edge, Vincent could feel the sickening effect. A seeping, crushing thing.

Annabell was an extraordinary tank. Her defensive capabilities surpassed Julia, but offensively she trailed behind most tanks. Able to perfectly guard two hundred and seventy degrees without an ally gaining a scratch or falling out of position. She simply couldn’t put anything down for good. That was where the rest of the party stepped in.

Holding that last piece of space, guarding their rear, was the healer Maisey Woods. The staff twirled with terrible light. Granting boons to allies and despair to enemies. Wherever her light shined, the battlefield was shifted in the party’s favor. Should an enemy approach, the staff was explosive.

Within that protection, Russel and the archer Vihaan Tavade acted freely. The earth turned on their foes, tripping them, holding them, and tearing them apart. Arrows like the fury of the sun took advantage of every moment. Surges of fiery light scoured their enemies.

And that might was waning under the pressure of the mind blitz.

The swordsman saw their focus slipping and their actions getting sloppy. Distraction and pain breaking through. He wouldn’t allow it. Not his people, not under his plan to trigger the trap.

He began his counter assault on the periphery, sneaking in close by altering his Form for stealth. Something Vincent learned out of pride due to Clarissa’s taunting after stealing his basic fight Form. The lizards didn’t notice his presence until the swordsman struck. Effortlessly walking up the stone spire to reach one screaming from above. It fell without thrashing for its life as the rose sword dipped into the brain smooth as a crane’s beak.

The discordant song of static skipped a beast as the pack of monsters realized the lone prey was more of a threat than thought. A few lizards turned from his party to swarm him. Vincent threw beams of slashes as he leaped from one spire to another.

They chased and Vincent cut through the battlefield. Shifting between targets like a leaf in the wind. Rose slashes catching a lizard midjump, then the sword dipping to remove a leg then an eye from a screamer. The static lost strength and his party shook off their doom. All around the monsters began to buckle as they became trapped between a whirling sword and a nut that wouldn’t crack.

When the number dropped to three, the lizards tried to flee. The frantic scramble of panicked animals. Vincent directed Vihaan only to wound and Russel to track. Beams of sunlight methodically crippled a leg on each. Slowed as the earth mage sunk deeping into concentration.

The swordsman moved to watch over his teammate. During this use of Mana, the earth mage would be unresponsive to the world as the targets were tracked by the movement across rock and earth.

Vincent had no intention of allowing them to escape for long.

Just betting there might be a nest worth cleaning out.

The rest of the party collected the cores as the dusting process came to its hardened conclusion. Once the battlefield was cleared, they headed out. Russel had their new bearing.

Ahead was a hole in the ground that the lizards had scampered down. Seeking cover in the darkness. As forewarned, the spires around their goal were strangely laid out. Vincent frowned as he realized the setup was similar to the protected center.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A perfect circle on the outer edge, but here they were able to get close without losing time. Within were sculpted spires. Placed in a formation and scrolled with writing. Riddles from the brief glance the swordsman gave them. His attention was on the perfectly circular hole in the middle of everything. Three special stone towers surrounded it, embossed with images of pipers and singers.

The hole itself was simply dark. A pool of shadows thick enough to look like liquid.

Vincent asked, “Down there?”

“Yes, it enlarges after a few feet into a spherical space,” explained Russel. “There are burrows in the walls. I can’t say how many are down there, a lot from all the echoes.”

“Hmm, going down there would be rather dangerous then…”

Annabell frowned. “You’re going down there aren’t you.”

Grinning. “Well, there’s gotta be a clue down there. Look at the spires here! For the sake of solving this floor, someone needs to take a look.”

Maisey rolled her eyes, complete with her head rolling along with them.

“At least tell me you’re not jumping down there blind,” urged the tank.

“Ahh, no, no. I’m going to throw some light down beforehand. Valerie was nice enough to make us our own sunstones. Be a shame not to use them.”

“Don’t die,” spat Vihaan. “I do not want to find a way to explain to Malachi why we allowed you to do something so stupid.”

“You definitely won’t have to do that. How could I fall when my party has such faith in me?”

The archer snorted.

Vincent pulled out a clear crystal with a slightly sunny tinge. It filled his palm, a reassuring weight. One shake while infusing Mana and it began to gradually glow. Before the amount of Mana transferred could blind them all, the stone was dropped into the darkness. A flaring star falling.

At first, there was nothing new to see. A five-foot tunnel downwards that abruptly expanded outwards. The sharp edges of craftsmanship. Then perhaps thirty feet of dropping before clinking against the bottom and landing atop debris. There was skittering, a small glimpse of lizards fleeing the sudden illumination. The light slowly grew until everything below must have been revealed, but the angle was terrible. Vincent could only see directly down and nothing at all to the side.

He pulled his sword free. “Maisey throw me some buffs please, might as well be somewhat careful since you’re all so concerned for my health. While I’m having fun, please study the stones. O’ also tell Molly about them.” His free hand pulled out the speaking stone and tossed it to Annabell. “I don’t envy you either task. The lizard nest will be more pleasant.”

With that, the swordsman leaped into the hole.

Rose energy surged around him, flashing dangerously to warn off monsters from trying to take advantage of his drop. A few tried anyways and were sliced by his defensive Form creating sudden sword slashes out of the readied Mana. Blood sprayed in the air, then the brazen lizards were past the edge of the light.

His safe descent was assured by the feather fall feature of his boots. A pace that was still quick, but harmless. One moment before impact his fall was arrested and then Vincent’s feet touched the stone with a jerk.

It was much as the swordsman expected. A hollowed-out sphere that looked semi-natural. The walls were filled with pits of darkness where burrows had been dug out by claws. From Russel, he knew none of them were deep. In an instant, a lizard could come out fangs snapping. As pack hunters that meant more than one would come.

So he waited.

Changing his Form from blind defense to sensory. Narrowing out everything but detection efforts. Expanding his senses through Mana into the entirety of the space. His sword still yet trembling with the next action. Frozen in the waiting act. A magnet seeking its attraction.

Shifting, the scrap of rock, and the crinkling of scales. The swordsman heard these things and waited. Picking out from which holes held the stirring beasts. The emotions fuming from the lizards were simple enough for him to pick up through his senses. They didn’t like Vincent being here, their terror and anger rising towards an inevitable crescendo.

The rose aura dimmed, flatting against his skin rather than thinning. He was trying to seem less threatening while remaining prepared. Reducing the sword’s light to only a sheen.

Finally, they came. Moving together by silent communication or simply hearing the others as he did. Razor-sharp claws and gouging teeth flew at him from three angles in the first wave and four in the second. The swordsman breathed out, creating stillness and a vacuum within him. Between the halted beats of the heart, there was a slash of the sword that struck three times. A silent flash of light.

The bodies dropped in halves as Vincent shifted his feet to meet the second wave. He released the void within. His heart beat loud, quick to catch up. Speed and strength burst through him, veins pulsing with power. Three slashes that blurred into one dancing line.

Blood began to pool over his feet as the last was batted aside with the flat of the blade. The swordsman had something to test out on this one.

His sensory Form had changed into a new one, only possible when he found the right mindset in battle. Memoria, the swordsman called it. Once, and only once before resetting, he could use the sword to slash a target with the impact of every swing of the sword that Vincent had ever made.

A conceptual move that had come to him in a dream.

It felt slow as he engaged the technique, like moving in molasses. The lizard blurred as the monster fled the humming blade that became an image of endless blades. Echoes of every slash empowering into this one. There was no resistance as Vincent’s blade touched and passed through. No vibration or change in texture as skin split, muscle parted and bone gave way.

A perfect cut.

Even passed through the rock below as the slash completed its full rotation.

Vincent gulped air, fighting not to drop into the pooling gore as everything went numb in the backlash. Even if the blood and other pieces faded away with the dusting, it was still unpleasant to be covered by it. He strained to listen for any stragglers, struggling against his overextended body.

The hint of oblivion from overusing Mana froze the outer edges of his mind. Memoria Form and Cumulative Cut were more resource extensive than expected.

“I don’t hear monsters gorging themselves after all that noise, so I’m assuming you're alive?” asked Vihaan from above. The swordsman, breathing heavily, tilted himself to look up and see his team’s archer peering down within the circle of light.

“Yeah, umph, I’m alive, completely alright,” replied Vincent, trying not to sound too exhausted.

Vihaan made a rude sound and before disappearing added, “When you’re done “exalting in your victory,” take a look around for those clues.”

He may have grumbled about it, but the swordsman did just that. The hole was dim at the moment with the sunstone covered by blood. A weak red light was cast over the chamber. Not the best illumination for searching for clues. Just good enough for a cursory look as he waited for full sensation to return to his limbs.

There wasn’t anything to see though. The stone was smoothed where the lizards hadn’t dug their claws in. He traced every itch, but the surface was unmarked otherwise. Unless something important had been demolished by the creation of the burrows, then the walls didn’t hold any clues.

That left the bottom, which currently was covered up. Vincent grimaced looking down at the colors found inside living beings. All of it slopped together. He calculated his patience against being temporarily dirty and sighed. With rolled-up sleeves, the swordsman began to feel around down there. Trying to see if it was worth waiting for the gore to dissipate.

There had been a lot of dust and rock chunks that were now mixed with blood into macabre mud.

Digging through that, Vincent found the bottom to continue as a sphere until the very center. He felt a raised mound with a divet on the top. A space designed for something very specific to socket into. Feeling around found nothing that fit the bill.

He flicked his arms to remove some of the blood and looked around at the burrows with a thought. No longer worried about having bloody hands, the swordsman picked up the sunstone. Siphoning some of the Mana first to lower the light to something manageable. Enough to look into each hole in the wall without blinding himself.

In the seventh one, standing on the lip of the third to see, had a glint of light that reacted to his sunstone. A lizard must have liked the look of the gold and hoarded it away. He reached in and pulled out a strange looking thing. One side was a green gem, the other was a combination of a gear and a key.

Vincent was certain this was what had originally been set in the mound.

“Whatever it is… Ok, hey! Throw me a rope. Got something pretty clueish too!”

With the thingamajig and cores secured, he climbed out.

“What did you find?” asked Maisey, leaning on her staff. He tossed her the thingamajig. She raised it up, twisting it back and forth for a good look. “That’s a clue, alright. Guess we need to find somewhere to put this and twist.”

The swordsman nodded absently. “Probably. I’m more interested in finding a good fight. That didn’t quite scratch the itch.”

“Of course you are, and of course, it didn’t,” grumbled Annabell with love. “Molly’s party found something similar. Yellow gem though.”

“Tell her we have a green one and will go searching for the other two.”

Russel leaned into conversion, “Why do

you say two?”

“Video game logic, we have green and yellow, there’s going to be red and blue ones too. Let’s find them, maybe there will be better guardians to fight.”

“That’s why he’s willing to be productive now,” smirked Vihaan. “There’s a chance of fighting something good on the table.”

The swordsman grinned, “You know what I’m about!”

The party laughed and moved out. Annabell radioed the news as they struck out in a new direction.