D’min thrust his javelin deep into the body of the jiggling Horror Sludge. The cursed thing wiggled its core out of the way of the attack, but D’min planted his feet and gripped his weapon with both hands while a mixture of mood and ichor gooped down onto him. The tendons along his arms bulged as he forced his weapon sideways through the brown-grey gunk of the creature and cut into its vulnerable core.

His breath hissed out through his teeth. Just die.

Right as the Horror Sludge was about the pierce D’min’s shoulder with its barbed tentacles, his blow landed. The thing sagged like a rotten fruit and he collapsed next to it with a splash. Without the core animating it, most of the gunk of its body sank into the swampy ground. For several seconds, he just spent his time breathing. All his energy went into his diaphragm and lungs.

With a grimace, D’min leveraged himself out of the shallow water of the wetlands and brushed dead grass and leaves from his scales. Then he did his best to scrape off the worst of the mud from his back and tail. Above, the sun blurred the air with heatwaves.

He still hated this damn Dungeon, but he was too weary to care that if he didn’t meticulously clean each one of his scales at night, moss would creep across his body. He did take the time to check his javelin for any nicks in the blade or shaft, but then he started wading forward again, unwilling to make their Savior Alana Donal wait too long.

The ten lizard warriors had now been within the Dungeon for three full months. In that time, not only had the Savior personally sparred with each one of them, but she had forced them to struggle against a half-dozen Horror Sludges at once while she watched. Only Yn’ulk was strong enough to defeat these foes without help, but mostly the process had been so she could recommend what types of training they needed to do to improve.

D’min paused when he saw a clump of trees above the constantly rippling reeds of this horrid area. His tongue danced in his mouth as he considered. The air was too humid for him to read any sort of scent from the wind. There probably would be more danger in the small tree copse, but it might also provide some brief shelter.

As he waded through the marsh flatlands, D’min remembered what the Savior had said to him after she watched his own desperate struggle. “You… your biggest problem is effort. Perhaps even you don’t realize it, but something happens when you truly feel threatened or you are too exhausted to think- you might not have Stamina, but your attacks are cleaner and sharper. You have two gears; you need to train yourself to stop using the first gear and always jump straight to the second.

“Because someday, you will definitely meet a foe that won’t give you the chance to switch.”

About ten meters away from the hunched and leafy trees, D’min paused. His tongue flicked out again. He reversed his grip on his javelin, raised his body, and then whipped his weapon forward. The javelin throw earned him a squawk as he lanced through a Knife-Beaked Green Heron and pinned it to a tree trunk. For a few seconds it struggled, but soon blood gurgled up through its thin throat and the thing collapsed.

D’min crept closer, still wary. Its feathers meant the bird had been mostly camouflaged against the leafy canopies of the trees, but he had already been ambushed too many times for this to work against him.

Three months was long enough to begin to adapt, even if he wasn’t as talented as Yn’ulk.

D’min’s movements drew out no further predators. The thick roots of the threes clumped together in the middle of the canopy, creating a frame that allowed one to stand above the ground without being ankle-deep in water. The hollow in the middle of the tree clump was relatively small, but it was just perfect for D’min. He crawled between the slender trunks and released a long breath.

The current task was a ‘graduation exercise’ in the words of the Savior. Although she remained disappointing at how intangible and vague their images were, it was now time to return to Expira. So she had given herself an hour head start and said that whoever managed to find her first in the wide wetlands would be rewarded.

Yn’ulk, the other elderly warrior subordinate, and Te’Leto knew something of tracking, so they eyed each other warily as they hurried out after the Savior into the featureless swamp. Meanwhile, D’min literally had no idea how to make heads or tails from the smorgasbord of puddles, ponds, mud, and reeds inside the Dungeon.

So he wandered. He set his own goals. Even if he couldn’t find the Savior, he could still test himself.

The urge to do so was new, but to know that that the monsters of this Dungeon used to fill him with fear and now he could walk amongst them with impunity...

Maybe not impunity. As long as I keep my wits about me, D’min narrowed his eyes. Second gear always. Cannot rest for too long.

He flexed his scaled toes, which complained that they had only now begun to dry. Then he splashed back into the wetland and waded forward. Unfortunately for him, the water level was rising. And the Dungeon remained sweltering. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and peered around for some sense of direction. He saw still water and waving reeds and not much else. But it did seem like the vegetation was a bit lusher to his East, so D’min randomly decided to head that way.

His movements were steady and controlled. He kept his javelin at the ready. He had already resolved himself that he would not be able to locate the Savior. Better to savor this brief moment of freedom.

After about twenty minutes of walking in his randomly chosen direction, D’min began to sense that something was wrong. The first sign was the smell. His toes felt the same mud squelch beneath him, but suddenly each step released a rotting stench that set his teeth on edge. The rot he smelled was ancient. Even more ominously, he hadn’t seen a monster since he had begun heading in this direction.

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D’min came upon the low belly of a river, winding through the reeds. The water was murky, but he could definitely see yellowed bones half-sunken into the muddy river bottom. D’min glanced left downriver, and then right upriver. He felt like he was watching himself in third person as he turned right and followed the river toward its source.

To his surprise, the ground began to dry; the river possessed relatively solid banks that kept the water corralled. Unfortunately, the smell became worse and worse as he trekked forward. Every time he thought he had grown used to it, he kicked over some small mound and whatever hidden thing he had disturbed left him retching. The reeds grew taller around him, increasing his sense of isolation and paranoia.

All D’min knew was the heat and the smell. And still he hadn’t encountered a single monster.

By the time he stepped into the clearing, he knew that he had made a mistake. Three-meter-high reeds ringed the entire area, creating a quiet arena. On the far side, there was a cave from whence the river emerged. Next to the cave entrance was a stump, on which sat the Savior. She nodded solemnly toward D’min. “You’ve found me. Honestly, I’m quite surprised… but sometimes, a little bit of luck is more important than some innate talent. But before you get your reward… you’ll need to prove yourself.”

D’min’s scales tingled. Crouching between himself in the savior was a massive alligator, the Level 71 Sludge Bottom Horror. The thing raised its long head and fixed a beady eye on the comparatively small Lizakh. It opened its mouth, almost lazily, an invitation for D’min to put himself out of his misery and become a snack.

*****

Images were delicate and complex things. Suddenly, Randidly felt himself gradually filling with an unquenchable fire.

The different between 99% and 100% was a much larger gap than between 5% and 10%. Because suddenly, the whole of Randidly Ghosthound’s being narrowed in on the task in front of him. That flame found a channel and gratefully concentrated into that outlet.

He had been foolish. They needed a miracle to improve Claudette enough that she would be able to face off against the old monsters of the Nexus. And aiming for a miracle, they needed every scrap of motivation that he could muster. Even the selfish and twisted ones that he had tried to bury.

Randidly’s mental hands on Claudette’s image core soon went numb, despite the fact he didn’t possess a body and couldn’t feel temperature. Then, when the lack of sensation was total, his mental energies began to burn with the horrible cold that the sword unleashed.

Occupational hazard of working with Claudette’s image.

Two glowing orbs manifested as Randidly’s Willpower flared to life in response. The one on the left was a deep green edging toward black, while the right one was a vibrant emerald. Both seethed with guilt and hatred and helplessness as he looked down at the powerful weapon that struggled against him. You might not realize this now, but this amount of chill won’t scare me off. You need more bite than that.

Congratulations! Your Skill Conviction of the Celestial Cataclysm (T) has grown to Level 508!

Congratulations! Your Skill Conviction of the Celestial Cataclysm (T) has grown to Level 509!

Because what Randidly ultimately realized about the weapon was that it was a powerful raw material, but poorly executed. The form of the blade flickered in his hands, sending off waves of bright, chilling energy. Honestly, the more Randidly handled the core of Claudette’s image, the more he wondered if she had made the weapon release such a bright light just so she didn’t need to examine the details too closely.

Which was probably something that Neveah would quite like to dig into, but for Randidly, it meant he saw a way forward. If her image was this power in a raw form then creating something structured and suffocating and vicious would be that much more oppressive. He just needed to do some image refining.

Despite his preparations, Randidly felt his thoughts turning sluggish. So he whipped his Nether Weight into service. Spectral flames formed a solid body in the image projection, the first in a while. Randidly wielded those ghastly fingers with strict precision, carefully tearing away the frivolous and blinding sense of light clustered around the emotional core. Nether viciously cut into the vague Aether of the image to reveal the powerful core.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Wrathful Calamity Rends (T) has grown to Level 274!

The puppet Claudette mewed in discomfort, but she didn’t try to stop him as his fingers sizzled against the biting sword; perhaps she too realized that she couldn’t avoid pain as the core of her image was reshaped.

However, before Randidly had even finished the preparatory work, his mental energies started to run low. He needed to maintain his Nether Weight to cut through the chaff of her image while also focusing on his emotional needs. A small change here was one thousand times more difficult than the superficial details he’d been handling so far.

However, he was unwilling to stick a pin in this insight he received; now was not the time for a rest break. He rolled his shoulders and flared Yggdrasil to life. When one Skill wasn’t enough, he spun three together to try and keep him at his most alert.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Glittering Leaves of Yggdrasil (L) has grown to Level 380!

Congratulations! Your Skill the Golden Roots of Yggdrasil (L) has grown to Level 372!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Yggdrasil’s Unruly Ichor (M) has grown to Level 356!

Congratulations! Your Skill the Golden Roots of Yggdrasil (L) has grown to Level 399!

He pulled deeply with Golden Roots of Yggdrasil, filling him with life and energy. He felt the projection around him flicker slightly, but Randidly didn’t worry too much about it; if he really drank too deeply of the ambient energy in the area, he wasn’t worried about killing off anything on the moon above Expira.

His work resumed. The tongues of Nether Weight became knives.

Yet still, Randidly felt himself slowly growing foggy as he carved away the last of the pointless illumination that was left on Claudette’s sword. H needed a little bit more of a boost. So he turned to the Grey Creature, which barred its pearly teeth and began to take from the surroundings.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Wandering Deity Demands (T) has grown to Level 369!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Conviction of the Celestial Cataclysm (T) has grown to Level 510!

Congratulations! Your Skill the Wandering Deity Demands (T) has grown to Level 393!

The Grey Creature raised its head and demanded fealty. The universe answered. Randidly finally felt himself stabilizing. He cut away the rest of the light and was left with a floating sword. Sometimes the details rippled, but the blade of dark blue ice remained constant. Meanwhile, the hilt-

A pulse of desolate loneliness and fear when he peered too closely at the hilt made Randidly growl. It was definitely not ready to be examined, at least not willingly. Randidly finally turned to the Stillborn Phoenix. I’ll need you too. Too much is going to go into this.

The Stillborn Phoenix gleefully opened its wide maw and began to absorb emotional threads in the surrounding space. Darkness crept outward from the left orb his Willpower had condensed. The green darkened to pure black.

Congratulations! Your Skill Tide of the Void (L) has grown to Level 355!

With physical, mental, and emotional energies being steadily fed into him, Randidly lowered his consciousness toward the blade. Time to fix you up, Claudette.