8 years later.
Ok, it just felt like eight years. We’d been traveling for about a week I guess but there was no sun to keep track of the passing days. Since that last fight, we’d been routinely assaulted as we went down the tunnels. We had to backtrack over a dozen times as we made a crude map charting the maze of passages and left chalk markings. We would get maybe five or four hours of sleep at most before being attacked again. Guinevere had talked to me a few more times but we never spoke on much of importance. Mostly she asked little things like who trained me to fight, or what I thought of the last fight we were in.
Our conversations were always interrupted by an attack. The creatures were headless of the cost of their attacks, and we didn’t seem to be thinning out their numbers.
If I have to listen to them complain about how long this has been going, I swear I’ll find a way to reach out of you and strangle them, Karnen growled.
“That’s enough of that,” I said to him. This hadn’t been his only complain, not by a long shot.
“I agree,” Guinevere said. “I’m tired too but complaining about it isn’t going to change anything.”
Another wave is incoming, Voidra told me.
“We got another wave incoming,” I communicated to the group.
“How many of these things are there?” growled the mage.
“I think they are respawning,” I said.
“Only creatures in dungeons respawn,” Kira said.
I shrugged. “I said what I said.”
“You think we’re in a dungeon?” Guinevere asked. “But we don’t have access to the system, how could it possibly be a dungeon?”
“Unless these creatures are all gifted the only explanation, I know of for how powerful they are is if this is a dungeon,” I explained. “Which is more likely that a dungeon could exist without access to the system or that hundreds to thousands of gifted creatures just existing underground?”
Before she could answer a howling roar began. Creatures poured down the tunnel behind and in front of us. We ducked into a short tunnel that dead-ended after about forty yards. Guinevere and I held the front while the baggage stayed back.
Guinevere acted as the shield while I was the sword. She kept the monsters back them never really able to touch her, however, her defensive-focused style left her little opportunity to focus on kills. I was the opposite abandoning defense in the pursuit of maximum kills in a pure offensive attack. To those on the outside, it may have seemed suicidal, and it probably was, but I lived for this.
A roar escaped my throat as I ripped, tore, crushed, and slashed my way through anything that came within range of me. My stacks of Blood Frenzy built up with each kill until I saw nothing, but shades of red. Claws and teeth raked my skin and I was smashed into the ground only to gut my opponent from underneath them. I laughed in savage glee headless of the black ichor that splattered in my mouth filling it with its acrid taste.
--
Guinevere held the line of her battle meditation keeping her thoughts clear, calm, and collected. She acted on muscle memory and trained her mind reserved for calculating the best way to counterattack and use the force of her attacker’s blows against them. Parrying, blocking, and bending around attacks she was like a boulder in a river that couldn’t be moved no matter how fast the river raged.
The block then twisted to the side dodging the stabbing of a stinger and using the momentum to twist her blade along the claw and gouge out the beast’s eyes. Claws came in from her right side and she twisted her blade slicing through the stinger and intercepting the claws. The force slid her six feet to the side, but her guard did not break.
Jaws snapped down and she bent back slamming the hilt of her sword into the creature’s eye socket. It screamed and fell back, and her sword lunged forward skewering it down its open mouth. Chocking on its own blood another creature took its place. Guinevere held her position as she slid across the floor but didn’t move from the tunnel’s mouth. Her party took the occasional attack from the back ranks, but they were able to contribute very little.
Looking at Ishmael Guinevere had to admit that without him they’d probably all be dead. She could have survived but she had no desire to wander these tunnels alone; the very thought of being alone in the darkness caused old fears to rise up. She pushed them down and renewed her focus on her battle meditation. Losing herself to the rhythm of the fight again, she was surprised when the wave ended. Ishmael crawled out of a pile of corpses. Wounds all across his body were closing and a section of his midsection that had been ripped out was slowly regrowing.
Guinevere stayed back until Ishmael seemed in control of himself and used his cleansing cloth to wipe the gore and blood off. She took the proffered cloth and wiped her armor and face. Despite her excellent defense her armor was starting to look a little worn but at least it was still in one piece, Ismael’s pants were ripped to shreds and soon he might as well be wearing nothing. More scars could be seen across his legs.
“How do you have so many scars?” Guinevere asked.
“You’ve seen me fight,” Ishmael said looking at her from the corner of his vision.
“Yes, but your regeneration doesn’t leave behind scars,” Guinevere pointed out.
Stolen novel; please report.
“I didn’t always have that ability,” Ishmael explained. “Before I had to rely on common herbs like cautr fennel and red yarrow to keep me alive. That’s where all those healing potions I’ve been handing came from.”
“Cautr fennel,” Guinevere said as she tried to remember her herbology lessons. “That’s a herb that ignites on contact with blood, people use that to coat their arrows mostly. How do you handle the pain from applying that to your wounds.”
“Pain is weakness leaving the body,” Ishmael said with a smile. “Besides I got a title that lets me ignore pain.”
“How do you get that?” Guinevere asked. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she added hastily.
“I don’t,” he said shrugging. “But it won’t do you any good, it requires you to never use any pain relievers when ranking up all your attributes to Veteran rank.”
Guinevere froze. “But that’s pure agony, how are you still sane.”
“That’s debatable if I am,” Ishmael said. “But that title evolved from one that let me lessen pain by drawing on my anger, it wasn’t much but it helped me to endure my fights and the process or ranking up.”
“But why would you do it?” Guinevere asked. “Pain relievers aren’t expensive any novice alchemist could have sold them to you.”
“I didn’t have access to them, and I needed to get stronger,” Ishmael said with a shrug. “Besides the system doesn’t like it when you take the easy route.”
“You believe the system wants us to suffer?” Guinevere asked.
“I think it wants us to challenge ourselves,” Ishmael said. “I don’t know how you’re the exception but look at your group. They work together to have safety in numbers instead of stepping out on their own to test themselves. If they had been properly tested before coming down here, they might be useful.”
“Isn’t it the duty of the strong to shield the weak?” Guinevere asked.
“No,” Ishmael said flatly. “That just gets them dragged down with the weak.”
“So what? We just throw everyone into the fire and see who walks out?” Guinevere asked, crossing her arms.
“Have you ever heard of the Red Queen Hypothesis?” Mordred asked.
“No,” Guinevere said. “Who is she?”
“It’s not an individual,” Ishmael explained. “let me ask you a question, and I’ll frame it in a way to make sense to you. You have two populations, one has everything they need to survive and live in peace, and the other is constantly struggling to provide for its population and endures constant monster attacks. Now these two populations come into conflict, which one is going to win?”
“The one that has constantly been attacked by monsters,” Guinevere admitted. “So, you’re saying that’s your ideal state for the world?”
“No, that’s how the world is. Some people are isolated but eventually the Red Queen comes for everyone,” Ishmael said turning his back on her. “We should get moving, we need to find a safer place to make camp with fresh water.”
--
My blood pounded in my ears as I sat in meditation. The steady rapid thud, thud, thud of my twin hearts beat with the power of the train engine. I felt footsteps approaching as Tremor Soles let me detect the soft vibrations.
“You move very quietly for someone in all that armor,” I said to Guinevere.
“I just wanted to check in on you,” Guinevere said. “The safety of my party depends on you.”
“You’d be fine if I wasn’t here,” I pointed out.
“I don’t know about that,” Guinevere said looking out at the cavern we had discovered. Massive underground flora filled the cavern with some bioluminescent fungi providing a modicum of lighting. “Being alone in all that darkness….”
She hides her fear well, Voidra said. But she is terrified of it?
“You’re afraid of the dark?” I asked.
“No,” Guinevere said quickly.
A lie, Voidra said but I don’t think that’s the source of her fear.
“So, you’re afraid of being alone?” I guessed.
“Isn’t everyone?” Guinevere retorted defensively.
“I’ve always been alone,” I said.
“Surely not always,” Guinevere said. “What about your family?”
“They’re why I’ve always been alone,” I said.
Guinevere was silent. “I don’t want to pressure you about your personal life, but me and my friends have our lives in your hands.”
“They aren’t your friends,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” Guinevere asked, crossing her arms again. It was a defensive gesture I noticed she used a lot.
“I have an ability to tell the emotions of those around me,” I said telling most of the truth. “I can feel their anger and hatred for you. Just as I can tell you’re afraid when you talk about being alone and in the dark.”
“Isn’t everyone afraid of that?” Guinevere asked defensively.
“Not to the level you are,” I said. “Tell you what, I answer your personal question and you answer a personal question about yourself. Deal?”
“Fine,” Guinevere said. “But I go first, why don’t you trust anyone?”
“Right to the point,” I said, then shrugged. “Because everyone whom I’ve ever trusted or should have been the people I could rely on the most has all betrayed or abandoned me. My father was abusive and thought I was worthless, when I tried to protect my mother from him, she chose him over me. My first love cheated on me and broke my heart.”
“Has there ever been one person who hasn’t betrayed you?” Guinevere asked.
The memory of another woman’s face came to me, it held a different pain than memories of Sarah did.
“Yes, there is one person who didn’t betray me,” I whispered recalling her scent the touch of her hand.
“Who?” Guinevere asked.
“That’s already been two questions,” I said. “My turn, why do you fear being alone?”
“When I was a child, I got stuck in a maze,” Guinevere said. “I couldn’t find my way out and had to survive on my own for weeks. It was pitch black and I ran out of light. Being alone reminds me of how afraid I was.”
“Why were you in that maze in the first place?” I asked.
“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Guinevere said. “Who was it that didn’t betray you?”
Her face came to me again and I pushed it aside feeling a sharp pain in my spirit. “Her name was Eve, I don’t know if she would have betrayed me; I broke off our relationship,” I explained my voice flat and emotionless. “My turn, why were you in that maze?”
Guinevere flinched. “My father put me there,” she said her voice becoming as flat as mine. “I think we should stop there.”
“Probably for the best,” I agreed. “Get some sleep princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” Guinevere said.
“You’re the future queen of Camelot,” I said with a shrug. “That’s close enough for me.”
---
I didn’t let myself fall asleep afraid of the memories that would come with my dreams. I sat in meditation until the others had rested. We weren’t attacked during the night and set out after the others got up. The tunnel started to slowly widen, it was gradual, but it widened out by a foot or so every hundred yards. Soon we were standing at the entrance of a massive cavern, it was filled with pale flora.
Voidra told me she only felt tasteless emotions from inside the cavern. Translated, that meant it was just bugs and other normal fauna; not monsters or people. There were ruins among the white leaves and mushroom stalks, Buildings carved into the side, and stalagmites. An arch that might have once been part of a wall still stood and writing was scrawled across its top.
“What’s it say?” the tank asked.
“I can’t read it,” Kira said. “It’s in runes, Guinevere your father is the Merlin can you read it?”
Guinevere squinted. “I can only recognize a few of the words, I don’t think it’s an enchantment.”
Looking up I read aloud the sentence above the arch. “We stand against the tyrant and the judge, every overseer in the heavens and the spirit they have created, we use the arts of mortals to resist, and we will overthrow the gods. We are the Magi.”