A group of men carrying an enormous slab of vibrant emerald walked by me on their way to another section of the makeshift camp. Blinking wildly, I readjusted myself. Instantly, my days of working the numbers and budget of a minor, up-and-coming guild brought the thought of profit to my mind. Racing, I remembered the price of emerald per size. Separated into different rarities, they went common, superior, greater, and magnificent emerald. Each jump in rarity meant an exponential price rise. The last is end-game materials saved for only the highest of priority items. We're talking gear meant to tackle the pinnacle of the realm's content.
What in the hell would that be?
Mythic level, no doubt, my mouth watered, and my pockets itched at the fetching price. Jude could afford to break us off a piece if that was what she was working with. Making a fist, I stopped my fingers from reaching. Too soon for that, I thought, as I knew that greed could end in red very quickly if left unchecked.
Calling the camp makeshift would be going too far. I didn't know how long I slept, but how this popped up was beyond me. Turning my head left and right, rubbing my eyes in disbelief, I was met by a picturesque raiding camp.
On the right bend, the crafting stations had been set up. Whetstones lined up in rows of ten, each mounted by a rugged, sut-stained smithy hard at work. This was always an extra step that most guilds took the time and coin to set up. Costly, but it came with its advantages. Having whetstone stations of the highest caliber made it so that the raiders always had the (sharpened steel) buff. A buff that added a whopping ten percent damage boost to their weapon of choice. The problem was that it only lasted one encounter, and then the blade would lose the buff incrementally until finally becoming dull and receiving debuffs instead.
A large, barrel-chested man donning a smudge-covered apron, hairs at the corners of his head connected to a sizeable reddish beard, swung away at molten metal. Precisely the kind of man you would want crafting a blade, someone who looked like they had the dwarven blood rushing through them. From there, one only needed to walk a few paces, and the tents would spread out into an open area for weavers and alchemists to mingle between themselves. Passing potions and cloth to be enchanted or broken down. They had even started the cultivation of a little garden biome with spores, mushrooms, flowers of all colors, and a toad, yes, a toad jumping in between the greenery like a dog does a front yard.
Either they worked entirely too fast, or I had been in another coma.
I set my feet forward to find out.
Walking past all the establishments, which they felt like ones pulled straight out of the market district, I made my way to the training grounds, which lay down a hall and into a connecting cavern. A part of me found it from the apparent noise of practice sword on flesh and the cries of pain that came next; another part felt it with the love of battle that filled myself and the Reaper on my back, but the most apparent guide was the golden trail that twinkled in that direction.
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Shit, I don't know how much faith I should be putting in you. I muttered to myself. I feel like I've become some pious believer, some wandering prophet…a fool who can't trust himself. To my surprise, the golden trail sparkled in response…as if talking back, replying angrily to my blasphemy.
In a glowing alcove surrounded by the faint light of scattered emerald cores that had yet to be mined out, a group of men in garb befitting the gladiatorial arenas of Parth lay in the middle of a crudely constructed ring. Now, this was something I would expect. Broken shafts of spears drilled into the ground by hand alongside the sides of broken blades made for a ring of battle. Around the ring, the spectators, awaiting their turn, sat on buckets, helms, or shattered shields. Everything was ragtag, broken and repurposed, perfect in its imperfections.
Getting close enough to see faces, I squinted at something odd.
Peering closer to the center of the ring, one combatant with a club and half-dangling helm held a familiar face. With a scowl, the frontman lowered his club with a heavy swing. The other man, the one with the familiar face, turned to block with his weapon, which was met by a sharp crack, then a more resounding crack of wood meeting bone.
SHITTT, I YIELD, YOU BASTARD!!
The voice had given it away.
Rodger, what in the green hell are you doing?
My words grew close as I rested against the shambling arena, which I shouldn't have been resting on as the structure began to sway, so I backed slightly away before being blamed for its destruction. The last thing I needed upon waking was a group of angry gladiators on my ass.
Blinking wildly as he got to his feet, Rodger's eyes met mine and smiled.
Finally, you're up, captain. It's been two goddamn days.
Only that much, huh I thought it was more.
Moving over, giving his tattered gear to the man next in line, he walked over to me and embraced me in a hug meant for only those closest. Strange, it felt odd and warm, but I did not shy away. Even if our time had been short, the bond felt strong, and the embrace felt right.
Lost in the moment, in the warmth of our bond, we awkwardly let go of one another.
Muttering words, we played it off as if nothing had happened—two embarrassed men happy to be alive and ready to tackle the realm together again.
Waving my hand and smiling at the other men who were now listening to our conversation, their eyes told of something more, that I was something more. Feeling uneasy, I motioned for Rodger to walk with me.
I assume the path forward has been cleared enough for us to walk and talk.
Damn, near close to the next boss, captain.
Wait, I said as we stopped midway through a new corridor lined with excavation zones, tape, and markers that revealed a location converted into a work area and less of a feral dungeon.
You guys cleared a dungeon, boss?
Yup, and…
A soul wasn't looking around the corridor, yet his voice still whispered.
It's a new zone altogether, captain. That's why we can walk further down. We found ourselves in a new zone that, when defeated, would leave us with new areas for the realm.
My face grew cold and hot, my mouth twitched, and my eyes held nothing back.
Holy Shit...