The trio made hasty progress without triggering a single trap, to Raum's relief, until they reached the bottom of the stairway. There, they came across another chamber, similar to the one from when they entered the mausoleum, except this chamber was shorter in height and longer in length. Anton immediately noticed that this chamber's walls were very different; they bore numerous man-sized holes in orderly rows and stacks as though they were honeycombs. Anton brought the lantern to view the man-holes, it was as he expected. Tightly tucked into the hole were skeletal remains of Beast-Men lying down, almost crumbling away in macabre displays. Their skeletons were humanoid in shape, with a slight hunch in their spines and longer arms than Humans. The features that separated them the most from their Demi-human descendants like Charlotte were their four-fingered claws and feet and, most importantly, their wolven canine skulls bearing an elongated snout with large fangs peering out from the walls. Anton took note of the lack of valuables or clothing on the skeletons, which suggested that these holes were communal burial sites for the lower class.
"Despair. Disease. Hunger." Charlotte spoke out in a soft voice.
"Are they whispering those words to you? Those corpses?" Raum inquired eagerly.
"Yes. But also. Maybe something else. I don't know." She shook her head.
Anton gave her a moment to recollect herself before asking her. "Do you hear anything ahead of us?"
"Yeah. Arlak guys. They're closer now."
"Let's go then."
After passing by chamber after chamber through the maze-like interconnecting corridors, they eventually saw the torchlight ahead of them flicker into view. Anton had already let the Wisplight lantern die out on its own. Instead, they were relying on Raum's conjured flame for a brief period. Raum didn't need to ask whether or not he should dispel it as they approached the chamber ahead.
Quietly sneaking around a corner, Anton saw the Arlak group investigating the Y'ashi skeletons in their burial holes like librarians rummaging through shelves. They were methodical and careful yet simultaneously disrespectful in their handling of the remains.
"Maybe the bones are worth something?"
"If yer wantin' a souvenir, maybe."
"I'd rather take home one of those wall spikes."
Anton surveyed the chamber and the mercenaries; he counted five of them. The one with knight armor was absent from this group, but there was a robed one with them. Anton surmised she was likely a Mage of some kind, paying close attention to what she was doing.
"I'm going to cast it again." The Mage called to her companions in a tired voice.
She took out a small jagged wand from her robe and pointed it ahead of her, down another corridor.
"Clavoiyas" She chanted. A faint pulse of yellow energy spread down the corridor like a shockwave, or a ripple in a pond. As the pulse travelled down the corridor and disappeared, it left behind a trace of yellow energy on a single stone brick in the floor, highlighting it with a yellow hue.
"There's one pressure plate there, don't be an idiot and do what Fillian did." She groaned.
"I'm pretty sure Ledal actually pushed her onto it when we weren't looking." Accused one of them.
"You want to say that to Ledal's face when we meet up with Fox group?" Another mercenary shot back.
"Nah, I'm good." His voice quivered.
*****
What the hell was that spell? I've never seen something like that before. A spell that useful for dungeon exploration would have been used all the time when I was an adventurer. It's only been a bit over five years since I left this scene, and I'm seeing something that's revolutionary to the field. Could there have been such a development made in just half a decade? Or is there something else at play here?
I turn to Raum and gesture towards the Arlak shitheads while mouthing the word "Clavoiyas" and then shrugging. Raum understood what I meant and shook his head. Of course, he wouldn't know of the spell. If he did, he wouldn't still be rubbing his left abdomen.
This just gets more and more fishy. What the hell are they really doing here? What do the Drievs want here?
At the very least, I've figured out why they split into two groups instead of three: they only have two Mages. If they're relying on something like this for their safety and are unwilling to take risks, that makes sense. But then why would they split into one with five and another with seven? It would be more standard to do even sixes. Unless…
*****
Anton had a thought, but as he was processing it, it was already too late. A broadsword swung from behind the trio, aimed at Charlotte. She dodged it adeptly, crouching on the ground as the blade barely shaved the tip of her ears. In one swift motion, Charlotte pulled her dagger out of her sheath, spun around on the tips of her shoes, and then pounced toward the assailant with feral retaliation.
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With her incredible agility, Charlotte landed on the assailant in a jockey position, planting her feet onto his chest, grabbing his shoulder with one hand, and driving her dagger into his neck with the other, all before the assailant could bring his sword back around. The dagger pierced through the tender flesh of his neck. A rush of hot, crimson blood gushes forth like a relentless fountain. She twisted the dagger with vicious precision, slicing through sinew and bone, before yanking it out as she kicked off him to land back on the ground. The mercenary stumbled, falling onto his knees while clasping his neck, then collapsed onto the ground, planting his face on the floor with a thud. The metallic taste of iron fills the mercenary's mouth, suffocating him as he drowns in his own blood.
Anton reeled back, reaching towards his back and pulling his claymore out of its sheath, firmly holding it upright with both hands. Conflict was inevitable now.
"What was that?" The Mage called out, having heard a thud. All the mercenaries in the group became alerted, their attention drawn to the corridor that the sound came from.
"Stan went in that direction to take a piss."
"He piss on a trap did he? Ha ha."
"Go check it out."
"I ain't helping hold 'is cock for 'im to piss!"
"Just do it."
The grumbling mercenary rolled his eyes as he walked toward the corridor.
"Stan! ya done yet?"
He was expecting to see his comrade around the corner, but instead, he was greeted by a 190-centimeter-tall man wielding a 130-centimeter-length blade.
Anton swung his claymore in a horizontal sweep directly across the man's neck without hesitation or mercy. The weight of the blade, guided by Anton's strength into its edge, sliced through flesh and bone in an instant, decapitating him. His head toppled onto the floor as his body slumped.
"Oh shit!"
The other mercenaries drew their weapons. Two of them had battle axes, while one dual-wielded two short swords. The Mage brandished her wand and pointed it at Anton, ready to chant a spell.
"Frosna!" She cried out; all weariness in her voice had evaporated in the way of panicked adrenaline. A shard of razor-sharp ice the size of a stake manifested into the air, growing out of nothing except her own Od, suspended in front of her wand. But before she could launch it at Anton, Charlotte sprinted into the chamber, throwing her dagger at the Mage's wand hand as she ran. The dagger cut open her hand, forcing her to drop her wand; the ice shard also subsequently fell to the ground as the spell was interrupted. The Mage held her bleeding hand, crying in agony as she leaned against the wall.
Charlotte stopped at Anton's right side, crouched over with one hand on the ground and her tail raised, hissing at the three mercenaries. Raum, taking his time, casually strolled into the room to Anton's left side, unlike his companions, he did not take a proper battle stance; he hardly even looked like he was ready for a fight.
In spite of this, he spoke out first. "It's three against three now, gentlemen. Let's have a good show of it, shall we?"
Charlotte leaped at one of the axe-wielding mercenaries with a growl, pulling out her second dagger to strike with deft speed. The mercenary brought his axe down to intercept her, hoping to lodge it into her small body before she could reach him. She was light and nimble and would certainly die from any strike delivered to her.
But the strike narrowly missed her as she dodged to her right by somersaulting and throwing off her cloak. She followed up with a combat roll before returning to her crouched position, her dagger raised, ready to pounce. The mercenary took the initiative and swung again, only for Charlotte to roll to the side again to reposition herself as she engaged with her prey.
Anton ended up dueling the mercenary with dual swords, though they were both considerably shorter than his. This fight was a reversal of Charlotte's. Anton had the range and strength advantage over his opponent instead of speed and agility. He swung his claymore at the mercenary with conservative strokes, being sure not to overextend and leave an opening. He knew that he had to keep track of both swords at once; directing too much attention to parrying one would lead to being cut by the other.
Anton kept up the aggression, stepping forward slightly every time he swung. The mercenary could only respond by blocking his claymore with both blades or backstepping to dodge its reach. As long as Anton didn't fall for a feint or allow his opponent to sidestep him like Charlotte was doing to her opponent, he wouldn't have to worry about losing a foothold. Eventually, he'll either overwhelm him or back him into the wall.
Raum's approach to battle was incredibly unconventional, even for a spellcaster. The reason for this is that his spells are inherently unique and macabre. He stood there, unmoving, hands behind his back, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. The other axe-wielding mercenary charged forward with a frenzied battle cry and struck Raum on his collarbone. The blow landed, but it felt off to the mercenary, like striking rubber, and Raum made no reaction to it. To his shock, he realized that his axe was actually hovering in the air a mere centimeter above Raum's collarbone; it didn't connect at all.
Raum's mystic veil, a force field produced by his Od, was focused and layered on the location that was struck, halting the momentum of the attack completely. While the mercenary was stunned, Raum lazily caressed the axe blade with his left hand, nudging the veil across to wrap around the blade, constricting it like a python. The metal started to change color from silver-grey to orange-brown as the veil caused it to rust and wear in the span of a few seconds. Cracks appeared around its edges as it became more and more brittle before finally apart, leaving only a wooden shaft.
The mercenary leaped back in fear, but Raum didn't give him a moment to re-think a strategy. Raum opened the palm of his right hand, showing a tattoo of an open eye insignia. A spiral of black fire erupted from the palm of Raum's left hand, snaking toward him and engulfing in an inferno. Screaming and crying out in anguish, the immolated mercenary ran across the chamber, making it only a few steps before he collapsed to the ground, rapidly burning to cinders as if being devoured by the flames. Strangely enough, the black flame did not char or burn his clothes and armor; only the mercenary's own body had been reduced to a pile of ashes, while his accessories were left in pristine condition on top of the pile.
"I'm finished here" Raum turned to his allies.
"So am I." Anton answered as he pulled his sword out of his quarry's corpse.
"I was done. Before either of you." Charlotte bragged while putting her coat back on.
"Then I suppose, all that's left then is you." Raum turned to the mage who was nursing her wound. She looked at the trio aghast in horror. "We have some questions for you, ma'am."
Without a word she turned tail, running down a corridor like a game rabbit. Until she stepped on a stone brick with a yellow hue. A spike shot through the wall and impaled right through her lateral like a spit roast. After a short yelp, her body sagged limp.
"Oh, my dear, you should have been more careful." The hypocritical priest lectured.