Chapter 10 – Training
The next day Bel set aside for training. After the morning routine, he did some sparring with his minions, as usual, they didn’t attack him but they defended themselves unto death. Not that he was ever close to killing them. He had been given levels, skills, and attributes by the score but those couldn’t make up for training and talent. His minions were much better fighters than him, which was good for him of course.
He sparred and trained with the sword for several hours before switching to training meditation and skill training.
Bel combined the two training regimes by first using up all his mana by target practicing on his minions, the werewolves were especially hard to hit as they moved erratically. When he tired of that he de-summoned and re-summoned his minions until his mana was empty and then he tried meditating it fully as fast as possible.
Bel tried his theory about passive meditation as well. When he ran out of mana he tried calming himself, slowing his heart rate and breathing, feeling the mana, and drawing it in as he ran around doing physical exercises. No matter how hard he tried nothing happened, after a few attempts he started to be able to feel the mana around him even when not meditating, but nothing came of it.
“Why can’t you tell me if I’m on the right track or not?” Bel asked Ignatius after his fifth failure.
“Humblest apologies Master. I can only inform you about things related to your class or limited information about myself and the world in general. Even when it comes to your class I can’t speak too freely. The gods have put much information behind ranks and levels of ascensions.”
Bel frowned for what felt like the thousand time. The Gods and their damn rules.
“What can you tell me about the Gods?” Bel didn’t feel like becoming religious just because he was presented with actual living Gods, but knowledge about them could never hurt.
“I can tell you a lot about them, Sir! There are eight...” The skull bit off his sentence so hard his teeth snapped against each other causing Bel to wince at the sound.
“Why did you stop? This is not the first time you do this Ignatius. I thought you obeyed everything I said. Tell me!” The skull was silent but Bel could see it vibrate, wanting to say something but it couldn’t. The vibration increased so much that Bel was afraid the skull would hurt itself.
“Okay, fine. Ignore my last order.” The skull stopped so abruptly Bel thought he had frozen.
“Thank you, Master. Sorry Master.” The skull didn’t elaborate further instead it floated away turning its back on Bel.
Bel pushed the odd behavior to the back of his mind. He hated that he couldn’t do anything about Ignatius's behavior or whatever was blocking him from helping him fully. But he still needed the skull and now was not the time.
He went back to training.
The day turned into evening and then into sleep for him and the next day was more of the same. He felt he was close to understanding something as he kept his meditation training up. Time passed and his rations diminished.
Bel didn’t get any gains during his training, at least not anything on his status but he felt surer about his capabilities. He trained for four days before something finally happened.
He had just executed a thrust underneath a bladed skeleton's defenses, a move he hadn’t been able to pull off no matter how hard he had tried until now. The move didn’t make him lose his concentration instead he kept his focus, willing away the exaltation and joy of success. As he did, he felt the tiniest sliver of mana entering his pathways. The amount was minuscule but he didn’t care, he kept at it.
It took him another hour but suddenly he opened up, his mind and body working as one.
You have learned the skill – Battle Meditation (Passive)
A sense of pride came over him. This was something he had earned through hard work and sweat, all on his own. It wasn’t a reward from the system, the dungeon, or the gods. This was all him. He might have picked up meditation by a fluke, but this, this he worked for.
“Masterfully done, Sir!” Now that you have unlocked this skill on your own I am allowed to tell you that this will not be as efficient as true meditation, it should however help keep you in fights longer.” Ignatius sounded... proud?
“Nice of you to share, I understand why you couldn't help me before but why were you able to help me temper? That wasn’t part of my class. was it?” Bel asked with a slight frown.
The skull was silent, its glowing eyes looking at him.
Bel scoffed but he was too excited about his progress so he went back to training. After a few minutes, he realized he couldn’t concentrate or get back into it. Instead, he took the rest of the day off, just relaxing and after a bath, he felt better. Laying down at his resting area he talked to Ignatius, they spoke about things Bel already knew but it was nice to talk to someone, even if it didn’t lead somewhere.
The next day he focused on his summoning skill. He tried out every combination of creatures he could and his capabilities and imagination skyrocketed. Once he summoned a werewolf with bones plats and swords for claws but the creature was slow and didn’t act right. It seemed the closer to a natural creature the better the summoned creature acted. So no making an elephant-werewolf-zombie-armored-tank. Not that he could summon an elephant at the moment anyways.
A thought struck him then. He could summon creatures he killed or had risen before. But what if he summoned something that he should be able to but it looked different from what he was able to now? The thought was preposterous but he still wanted to try it out.
Focusing inwards he pictured a skeleton without bones. The picture was hard to hold as if the skill didn’t want to comply, but his willpower allowed him to power through. He felt a headache blooming and something wet touching his upper lips as he pressed on.
Ignatius spoke nearby but he couldn’t hear him through the pain of concentration.
A few seconds later a ring appeared on the floor and a strange human-looking face floated up surrounded by a cloak flowing like it was flying through the air. The thing looked at Bel with the same sort of malevolent green as the other summons. A cold shiver ran down Bel's back, it was only the fact that he could feel the creature in the back of his mind that stopped him from running away.
Wraith - (Healthy) level 13.
“A wraith.” Bel spoke aloud.
“That was mighty stupid if you’ll excuse my bluntness, Sir.” Ignatius didn’t sound like he wanted to be excused at all. He sounded angry.
“What do you mean? It worked, didn’t it?” Bel said defensively.
“It did and that was only because you were essentially 99% there in the requirements to summon this creature. Raw power could summon a creature if you have the mana, skill control, skill level, and talent for it. In this case, you had almost none of that. You practically tore a hole to the ectoplasmic realm of the Eternal Rest and dragged the creature through. Luckily for you, wraiths are 100% ectoplasmic and ethereal. Had you tried this with a corporeal creature you probably would have died. Look in your reflection.” The skull was holding back his anger, Bel could tell.
He moved up to the pool of water and looked down. He was stunned by his appearance. Blood flowed from his nose, eyes, and ears. Seeing his state made him aware of just how bad he felt. His head was pounding and his throat was sore. He washed up and drank some water before sheepishly turning back towards Ignatius.
“I’m sorry Ignatius. I did it again, going ahead before checking with you. Not that you would have been able to tell me anything.” In the end, he couldn’t help but sound bitter.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The skull watched him for a moment before it spoke, this time in a gentler tone.
“It is okay, Bel. I know you worry and have doubts. But everything I do, I do for the betterment of you and me both. I want to get out of here just as much as you. I want to go back to my home and see if the great university still stands. I want to find out what happened to my...” The skull went silent before continuing as if nothing happened.
“I want to see the suns, the moons, and the stars again. Trust me just a little further and we’ll get there. I promise.” Bel felt a wave of emotion and tears sprung to his eyes.
“I trust you, Ignatius.” A swirl of mana in his core acted up and he had no idea why, neither did he get a notification explaining it.
“Wraiths. What can you tell me about them?” Bel changed the subject.
“They are mostly used as scouts by necromancers and the other Death-Classes that can summon them. Contrary to popular belief, the lower-level wraiths and ghosts can’t interact with corporeal beings so they can’t hurt you. They can however scare the crap out of you, phase through solid objects and listen in on conversations. Higher-level ethereal creatures can hurt or even kill but that is far from what you can control now.” Ignatius's lecturing tone was back.
“Talking about scouting made me realize something, how far away can I send my minions before losing control? There’s not much space down here to try it out.”
“Good question, Sir.” Ignatius didn’t see or didn’t care to comment on Bel’s eye roll. Bel almost felt that he had sprained something inside his eyes.
“The answer is different between summoner and summoner. It’s a factor of skill level, mana control, tempering, tier, and certain items. In your case, I'd wager that it’s quite some distance, probably several kilometers.” Bel nodded at that. It made sense that you could increase it. Especially if you grew to a high enough level to control armies. He threw a glance at the sword next to him, Authority of the Dead. He wondered if that was tied into this.
Bel nodded at Ignatius and got back to training. This time he focused on summoning speed. It took him about 15 seconds to summon a normal summon now. He felt that if the need was great that amount of time could mean his death. He summoned the simplest creature he could, a skeleton rat, time and time again. After what felt like a hundred attempts, he got a sense of the mana traveling through his pathways to his hands. The mana always started within his core, traveling to the palm of his hand before being released through the skin.
What would happen if he sent the mana a different way? Not wanting to make the same mistake again he asked Ignatius before experimenting. Live and learn as they say.
Ignatius did not have much to say on the subject or perhaps he couldn’t. He didn’t outright say it was a bad idea though.
With a little more courage Bel started to experiment. He started by casting the skill a few more times to familiarize himself with the flow of mana. That took another hour of training which made him realize it was time for dinner.
With a full belly, he got back to work.
He started the skill cast and just as the mana started to flow from his core, he redirected it toward his throat. The distance was shorter and perhaps he could breathe the rat into existence. The pain was uncomfortable at first but soon the pain started to escalate into full-on agony. It felt like he had swallowed a hot piece of lead and it had gotten stuck in his throat.
The cast finished and nothing happened, except for the pain finally fading away. He hadn’t damaged himself too badly, he could feel that his pathways were a little sore. The worst part was that he had to do it several more times to exclude it from just being a fluke the first time. He tried channeling slower, faster, harder, and many more methods but nothing worked. In the end, he felt like a wrung-out rag.
He didn’t make any headway so he continued his training, powering through the pain. Three days later he still hadn’t been able to change the skill or speed it up. No matter what he tried the skill failed and he felt the immense pain of mana back-lash or the burning sensation of mana in his pathways that didn’t go anywhere. Like sipping water and having it stuck in your throat for what felt like hours.
One thing came of it, which made Bel think he was on the right path. He got a skill, a skill he could level.
You have learned the Skill – Mana Manipulation level 1.
He managed to level it a few more times when he got another pleasant surprise. He had used battle meditation continuously during his training and he got the reward of a rank up in the skill.
Your Skill Battle Meditation (Passive) has ranked up.
Your skill Battle Meditation (Passive) is now Tin Rank.
That sense of accomplishment returned. Bel decided to take two more days to train and rest, then it was time to get back into the life and death of the dungeon.
Two days later a well-rested and armed Bel stood at the edge of the door leading into the room he thought of as the throne room. There was a strange shimmering shield covering the entrance, like the summer heat leaving the asphalt. He could see a large ziggurat-looking building with a throne at the top. The room was a dome-like structure with glyphs and runes carved on the vaulted ceiling and walls, strange depictions of death and resurrections, Bel felt his mind twist and his grasp on reality shift if he looked at the depictions for too long. Four wide pillars were holding up the ceiling, the pillars surrounding the ziggurat, the pillars were carved as well but they also held torches burning with that same cold green fire, and behind the ziggurat, something glowed with a warm golden light. Bel couldn’t see what it was as the throne and ziggurat blocked the view.
Even with all these macabre and haunting sights in the room, Bel’s eyes only ever drew to the throne. It was a simple throne in a way, made for a normal-sized individual but the legs, back and armrests were carved from pure white bones while the seat and backrest were covered in that same dark green and black colored fabric. The look was both beautiful and haunting but there was something else, something Bel couldn’t put his finger on, that drew his eyes to the throne. He felt that whoever sat on the throne was important, perhaps the most important person or entity in the universe. He wanted to run inside the room and throw himself upon the throne. Only his willpower managed to hold him back.
“Is there anything more you can tell me before we go in?” Bel asked the floating skull. But Ignatius's lips were sealed. He just shacked his head and looked inside the room, Bel couldn’t read the skull's expression of course, but he felt through their bond that the skull was worried. Ignatius tried to hide the emotion but Bel had grown better at feeling the Flameskull through their bond. It took Bel a long time before he even realized what that knot of sensation was in the back of his mind.
“That’s what I thought. I feel that we’ve done what we can to prepare now. It's time to roll the dice as a wise fool once said.” Bel rolled his shoulders and took a quick breath before ordering his tanks to go first, then he and the swords walked, followed closely by the werewolves. The rat had orders to hide and observe for an opportunity to strike. He thought about summoning a wraith but there probably wouldn’t be anything for it to do. The space down here wasn’t so big that he needed a scout, and the creature couldn’t phase through the dungeon walls, he already tried that when he first summoned the creature.
As the first tank reached the shimmering barrier and walked through a spike of emotion came through the bond. Bel knew that they didn’t have emotions as they were constructs of mana and ectoplasm from the Eternal Rest. Bel didn't know what that place was, Ignatius had been unhelpful in that regard. Which meant it didn’t feel fear or surprise, instead it sent more of a sensation of preparing for a fight. There was something hostile on the other side of that shimmer.
Bel steeled himself and charged through with the rest of his summons. When he ran past the barrier a sense of running through pouring water passed over him, but his skin and clothes stayed warm. When he saw what waited on the other side he stopped so abruptly that he slid half a meter before stopping. He wasn’t sure if it was the sound or the sight that stunned him first.
The noise was immense, a thousand different creatures were hollering and screaming at him, they all wanted blood and death. Taunts and jeers he didn’t understand rained down on him.
The ziggurat had eight floors if you counted the throne at the top. Each floor was covered with creatures on either side of the long flight of stairs. The layers were segregated from each other and each seemed to hold an affinity. Ignatius hadn’t been able to tell him about the gods more than that there were eight of them and Bel felt that each was represented here. Was he still in the dungeon or was he somewhere else? This felt grand on a scale he couldn’t imagine.
The first floor was covered with what Bel could only think of as monsters and bestial races. Orcs, Goblins, and Minoutars stood side by side with hydras, and what Bel thought was a Wendigo, a tall creature with claws wearing the skull of a deer, with antlers and all.
The second floor was filled with flying creatures, air elementals, griffins, and what looked like a winged serpent.
On the third floor, sand was spilling off the edges disappearing into nothing before hitting the floor below. The creatures were made out of stone and dirt.
The fourth floor would have seemed like a green paradise if not for the bloodlust and hate on the faces of the fey, dryads, treants, and similar creatures looking down at Bel.
The fifth floor was overflowing, water spilling and frothing everywhere, the sea creatures swimming up to the edge and lunging for him, only to be rebuked by some invisible field.
The sixth floor was burning, lava rolling off the edges, and flaming creatures popped and crackled loud enough that Bel heard where he stood at the bottom.
The seventh floor was different. The inhabitants standing in orderly rows looking down at him. The distance was vast but Bel could see their faces clearly, they looked at him with pity, like a dog that had to be put down. Their expressions were haunting, it was out of place on their otherwise divine faces, their pure white wings rustling from an imaginary wind.
For all these wonders and horror, Bel's eyes went straight for the eighth floor and the only thing upon it, the throne. A man sat upon the throne, or at least Bel thought it was a man once, now it looked like a half-rotten corpse, decaying and dusty at the same time, a carrion lord. He sat upon the throne, unmoving and unblinking, and from his back long black cables or rope hooked into his body and went all the way up to the ceiling. There were so many the entire roof and top of the ziggurat were covered in them. When Bel looked closely. he could see that they weren’t cables or ropes, they were chains, long thin chains.
The sights before him made him tremble even through his determination and will. He felt his conviction falter and he took a step back.
“This is a problem. No way are we going to fight our way through all of that just to reach whatever that is, at the top.” Bel turned around, aiming for the safe zone. A step later and he realized, the exit was gone.