13
The Warden's Crypt (3)
Decrepit, old flesh, long-since dried and clinging to bone pressed against the breaking shell.
A chorus of cracking and splintering stone echoed through the chamber, building tension like that of a death knell.
We all spun, watching the figures inside the statues come free of their restraints—fingers and limbs stretching as if trapped in the fit of one's coffin for far too long.
They were tall and lanky with wrong bodily proportions, and leathery, half-preserved skin that stretched over bone and darkened sinew.
Empty sockets were positioned in their skulls, a faint blue flame dancing against the backdrop of.
For a moment, the knights... no, those… those shrouds did nothing.
They stood where they were, somewhere between two and three meters tall, twitching in a manner that made my skin crawl just by looking at it, heads turning at each other slowly as our group dared to make not a single movement; holding breaths I'm sure none of us even knew we were holding.
…Our seconds of silence were finite, though. Evrenn's foot slid against the ground as he readjusted his posture, grimacing.
"I'll be damned if I let these things k-kill me…!" He flipped his staff around, slamming it on the ground as flames burned to his side.
Instantly, the creatures reacted—a terrible, ear-piercing scream erupted from the one closest to us, signaling the beginning of a battle.
"Everyone! Get ready!" Aswalo's voice called out.
I grunted, half-annoyed at Evrenn for moving, but also half-annoyed at myself for cowering, and began conjuring a spell.
As every shroud in our vicinity lunged at us, Aswalo's shield came up to meet the first.
It crashed into him like a shooting meteor, sending him and his shield sliding against the floor—still grounded, though both groaned in protest. He pivoted his right foot, spinning on his heel and utilizing that momentum to strike back with his longsword. "Rauehh!"
At the same time, Ignis stepped forward into a haze of flames.
The air around his body warped as he swept low at a shroud's legs, cleanly splitting it in two.
It toppled unceremoniously, letting out a screech as its upper half hit the floor, blood gushing as he turned to face the next.
A sudden urgent request pressed against my mind—closer to the lingering feeling you have after asking permission for something, despite having made up your mind to already do it.
There were no words, just raw emotion, which was infinitely quicker to transmit.
Seraphina…
After a second of consideration, I begrudgingly relented, agreeing to her request to join the fight, realizing that now wasn't the time to hold anything back.
As worried as I was for her, I couldn't keep her away from the fights for too long, not if this was the life I was going to live.
She was my bond, sure, but more than that she was my partner and duo, as well her own being.
Instead of outright denying her help, I could, instead, guide her. Help her help me… But the only way to do that was to remove the shackles I'd placed.
Briefly, another emotion flared from her side—a quiet vindication, mixed with a bit of gratification.
I performed the mental equivalent of a groan, stepping forward with my own sword, and severing our connection, having seen her form rip at the prone shroud's throat from my peripheral.
Before the first one could reach me, though, a silver sheet of liquid wrapped around its head, sending it off course.
Its talons flew up, ripping at the liquid and splitting the flesh on its face in the aftermath, growling and hissing as it scuttled off in a different direction, only to soon meet its demise.
Another stepped in at almost the same second, and I narrowly dodged its claws.
Seven crescent blades of water swirled from my sides, shooting forward and severing its right arm.
[Water Blades]
I flashed by its side as it gave no regard for its missing limb, lashing out with reckless abandon.
The sound of air being torn assaulted me from all sides as I slipped into a rhythm of dodging and counterattacking; our exchange turning into a violent ostinato, right up until the finale.
An arrow suddenly whistled from behind, piercing its skull squarely, with a barrage of them quickly following suit.
The shroud staggered backwards and I moved forward, my blade tearing open its chest. Dark blood spilled on my white overcoat and right cheek.
That's one.
I hadn't a second of reprieve, though, as another shroud's attention quickly latched onto me, followed closely by another.
The former's talons scraped against the stone as it barreled toward me, while the other came up on my blindspot, forcing me into an awkward pivot.
I can't move out of our formation, otherwise it'll put Caelora and Rome in danger… Crap.
I steeled myself, meeting it with an upward cut, cleanly slicing through its elbow joint.
At the same time, the other one swung wide, and I slipped in through the arc of its attack, feeling its talons graze against my shoulder.
Pain erupted, but I clamped down on the feeling, focusing on the chill of mana running through my veins.
[Ice Lance]
A jagged, half-formed spear of ice impaled its thigh, sending it tumbling to the floor.
Recovering myself, I spun my body around and beheaded the shroud, before quickly turning to meet the other.
Our fight delved into a frenzy of near misses and relentless slashing, which wasn't too hard to deal with considering I severed its other arm, and so I was able to dispatch of it in a relatively short time before having my next appointment.
This immediately turned into a rhythm—a deadly dance that lasted for however long. Dodge, attack, kill, repeat.
Based on my estimations, I'd say that, perhaps, five or six minutes of this unnerving repetition went on, before I'd noticed a shroud lunging at Aswalo out of the corner of my eye.
Something seemed… off about that one. Different. But I couldn't put a finger on why.
Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion.
"Another to your right, Aswalo!" I yelled, hoping he'd hear.
He turned just in time, pivoting smoothly and bringing his shield over from his left shoulder in a wide motion. It threw its body weight into him like a falling boulder, and naturally, his own body responded—arms buckling, boots sliding, and even his shield screeched.
But that wasn't it.
As he roared, gathering his strength to push back against the creature, the faint flame in its eye suddenly began to glow brighter and brighter, all in that split instance, craning its neck suspiciously closer to him.
There was a build up, until—
A flash of blue and red-orange ignited right on top of him, briefly obscuring him in a haze of smoke.
"Aswalo!" Romei's voice tore through the ringing in my ears.
I sent an immediate gust of wind over, clearing the smoke, and… our leader was still alive. Battered, covered in blood, and kneeling, but alive. However, there was another thing…
Romei slid to a stop just behind him, looking frantic. Through all of the sounds assaulting me, I was able to hear her extreme concern and chanting—followed by a soft green glow suffusing his limbs—before being pulled back into my own fight. Our formation naturally shifted to accommodate this change.
Soon after, Seraphina relayed to me the information of the situation, and I grimaced, hearing it.
To lose a finger just like that… Damn it, these things are more dangerous than we realized.
We can't stay on the defensive like this. This won't work, not with such a gap in our line now!
And there was practically no way to distinguish the different ones amongst this horde, either!
…Think, think. What could I do to turn the tides in this situation…? What would a Hero do?
…No, more than that, was there even anything I could do?
There were just so many of them and so few of us. Am I… even strong enough for this?
More seconds of pondering went by.
…I can't think like that… The type of Hero I want to be would never give up so easily…!
It wasn't long before an idea came to mind. Risky and endangering, but potentially tide-turning.
One wrong move and I'd die…
At the same time, I noticed the side in which Evrenn was responsible for beginning to lose some of its kill frequency.
It looked like the idiot had finally spent the majority of his mana reserves with all of the haphazard spells he was firing senselessly.
One look at his face was all it took to see that. …No choice then…
Resolving myself, I informed Seraphina of my plan, using pure emotion to convey it, before instantly shutting out the connection between her and I; feeling her panic surge.
I should've done this earlier… I'll be a bit tuckered out afterwards, but oh well.
Better than being dead.
"Voltstance."
Tendrils of electricity crawled down my arms and spine, feeling like a thousand needles biting into me all at once, and every moment stretched thin.
From the arcs the shrouds' talons curved in and the slight panicked expression my comrades wore, all the way down to the sudden weightlessness I felt in my limbs.
It was like everything useless had just been stripped away, replaced entirely with nothing but motion.
…It wasn't gentle though. Pain screamed along the innermost edges of my body, relaying to me a message that I knew all too well: This spell was wholly incomplete, and as such, using it came with a risk of permanently damaging my body.
I forced that thought down, picturing the world shrinking only to what was in front of me.
Then, I stepped forward, directly into the midst of the shrouds.
Slowly—but simultaneously instantly—I began to pass each shroud up, just mere inches from them.
I watched as their attention dragged away from my group and onto the streaking light of azure running headfirst into their most dense clusters.
It was an eerie thing, really, knowing these eyeless creatures could still "see" me.
Watching their heads turn in unison as every hollow gaze regarded me with some otherworldly intelligence only caused more anxiety, hesitation—and worst of all, fear—to creep in.
But in those small, incremental moments, dozens of potential outcomes flowed through my brain, and I began to outrun even those sluggish feelings, focusing only on what was ahead of me, rather than the sum of what was behind me. This was going to work, I reassured myself. I trained for this.
I stopped as I neared the edges of the room. This far in, I was close enough to get a good look at all of the statues they broke out from. Spinning on my heel, I began to reposition myself.
This is far enough. Now, it's time to start thin—
Dread gripped my heart, crushing the thought before it could finish. I lurched to an immediate stop, my breath feeling like a lump stuck in my throat, and my muscles tightened.
Hollow, sunken cavities, lit with only a small, flickering blue flame dancing against the depths—at least three dozens of them all reflected back at me.
Tall, lanky figures, uncanny bodily proportions, dry, exposed flesh, and razor-sharp claws, each longer than my forearm.
Everything—all of that attention, malice, cruel intelligence, was directed solely at me.
…And I was alone, with no help in sight. Faced against hordes of twisted sinew and mouthless constructs.
No one was coming to help me. This was it… I would die here. Alone.
Regretting this stupid "plan" that involved putting myself in this situation, acting as if I was some hero.
The shrouds slowly closed in from every direction, their movements still slowed, and I watched with unerring clarity. Tension built with every step they took, until…
—My blade flashed out, severing an arm at the shoulder.
Blood splattered around me in slow, nigh-suspended droplets, and ice blossomed along the stump, sealing it in a frozen, useless rigidity.
A second one lunged in, but by then, two more azure flashes lit up our immediate surroundings, and its head was rolling through the air.
I dragged a breath into my lungs, forcing it past the knot in my chest.
"Focus on your mana… focus on your mana… focus on your mana."
A third one soon arrived, lashing out with its claws, followed by a fourth, and fifth.
Its swipe carved through the space my head had occupied half a heartbeat ago.
Steel interrupted the silence, my blade cutting across its exposed chest before coming back around and cleanly separating the shroud's wrists from its arm, already turning to the next.
"I won't go down here…!"
The last of my hesitation burned out in the electric hum in my ears as I plunged deeper into the horde.
***
CAELORA
Silvermeld followed the direction of my wand at a mere thought, surging outwards openly before hardening into a row of jagged spikes that cleanly severed the neck of a nearby shroud.
Its body slumped against the ground limply, and two more shrouds that would've slipped past Ignis were also impaled shortly afterwards.
He grunted, showing his appreciation; had it been any other time, he'd have turned and given me, at the very least, a nod.
But the battle before us was enough so that neither of us could be bothered with our homeland's formalities.
"—by the Great Heaven's might, bestow upon us your blessings of prosperity and longevity. Cleanse thee of thy worldly impurities and restore the spirit that has been given. Healing!"
Romaniel's frantic chanting resonated just at the edge of hearing, filling in the backdrop of the sounds of limbs tearing, nonverbal exertions, spilling blood, and spells and metal meeting flesh.
The situation… is quite dire.
The hordes of creatures seemed to fall upon us like a force of nature itself, taking every inch possible and leaving hardly any room for our party to expand. Their talons threatened to tear us apart if we were not careful.
We were managing… for now. How long that would last, however, was uncertain.
Our leader had sustained an injury, relying on the rest of us to maintain the horde as he was being treated, occupying our only healer, and thus causing a drastic shift in formation.
Crownless held off the far left end, Ignis on the right, and Evrenn held the middle. Seraphina worked wherever she could, darting back and forth from each side.
My magic worked to fill in the larger gap on Ignis' side. Since he was the sole enhancer left, his range was limited, unlike the other two. He had spells, but not as wide of a variety as them.
With such a loss, though, it was only a matter of time until either one of us, or our defenses as a whole slipped.
…Evrenn seemed to be the first likely candidate.
One shroud narrowly dodged a fire bolt, encroaching upon the boy in mere seconds. He took a step back, shoulders shrinking as its claws swiped at his face—only to be met with a small section of Silvermeld that'd separated from the larger half.
It wrapped around the creature's face, sending it back with just its force alone, before compressing on its skull, leaving brain matter to stain the floor.
Instantly afterward, that Silvermeld dissipated in a flitter of mana, and a wave of intense, aching pain radiated from my sternum, followed by a sharp migraine.
"Y-you…!" He turned around, stammering as if he couldn't believe what he saw—or that he was alive.
Annoyance flared, mixing with the pain. "Don't turn your back!" My voice, roughened with exhaustion, came out harsh.
His face scrunched and his body tensed, but he listened, and we fell into a rhythm again, working to restore what little order could be restored.
I hadn't made it a habit to practice separating large pieces of my Silvermeld, as I didn't deem it necessary to, at least not at my current level. It required my focus to be split, and was significantly harder to maintain both of their forms at the same time. It could be closely compared to trying to count raindrops on a weathery day.
And the loss of focus on even just one of them caused its form to dissipate, just like it had, which either left me to summon more of it, or leave the other half in its much reduced state.
My mana reserves were reaching just around their half points right around now, and while I was feeling the effects, it was the least of my worries.
This horde just doesn't let up… We need to—
Suddenly, wind tinged with blue whistled past my left, sending my hair in a short billow, and leaving a suspiciously Crownless-shaped gap in the formation. I whipped my head around, eyes widening.
…Did he…?
Before I could register it further, the shrouds closest to his area instantly surged forward through that gap, their long limbs stretching forward.
…I was the closest one to them.
My wand came around, but it was too late by then—talons scraped against my left shoulder, tearing through the cloth like paper.
The searing hot pain stole my breath away, and my arm briefly went weak. I spun on my heel, trying to get some distance between us, but it was futile.
Time seemed to come to a crawl as the next claw arced towards me. I watched with unnatural clarity as the shroud reached for my throat… only to meet someone else's flesh, instead of mine.
The instance after, Aswalo's shield flared as he spun, sending the creature back by a few inches.
Which was more than enough space.
"Caelora, now!"
I snapped out of my daze, shaping what I considered to be my will into a massive spike that pierced through its chest just in time.
Its body went limp, and more immediately followed up.
Ignoring the slash across his wide back, Aswalo stepped forward, meeting the rushing wave head on, moving with renewed vigor.
Arrows quickly followed suit from behind, helping to pin more of them down, and I stole brief glances from Romaniel and Aswalo, noticing a tired expression on her face, and what was left of his finger.
The skin had, at least, been sealed over it, but the digit itself was forever gone.
I felt an unusual warmth from my shoulder before I saw it. Turning, Romei gave me a tense, yet oddly reassuring look, as if more time had been given to us. She raised her hands. "You did good. This'll take awhile, so just leave it to them for now."
Just a few short moments later, I overheard a small back and forth at the front.
"Where did that imbecile go? Don't tell me he ran off to save his own tail!?" Evrenn's voice cracked.
"I knew it—that wogart was the most useless, conniving rat of us all! If it'd been up to me, a weakling like him would have never been in my party! Damn it!"
That's not true…! He'd never, I wanted to say, but couldn't muster the strength to.
Though I hadn't known the boy who went by Crownless for a long time at all, I was certain that wasn't the case. He had never struck me as the type to abandon anyone.
Not just because there wasn't anywhere for him to go in this tomb, but also it was a gut feeling.
There was something about him that made him feel so different, but also so… familiar.
It was hard to describe, and I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to—but it was true, nonetheless.
"The only weakling here is you," Ignis interrupted from his lane, tone staying level despite his exertions.
"—What!? You dare call m—"
"Be quiet and watch. Even a newbud could tell the difference in the fight—what's stopping you?"
Evrenn held his tongue from then on, either too occupied with his side, or choking on his own ego after realizing, I couldn't tell. Though both worked.
A difference in the fight? Now that he mentions it…
There was indeed a shift. A subtle one, but one nonetheless. And it only continued to grow.
"Hah," Aswalo scoffed incredulously. "Well, I'd be damned… It's getting a whole lot easier now."
"So that's what it was…" I absent-mindedly muttered, finally understanding.
They were right. The pressure in the fight had noticeably seemed to drop. It didn't disappear, only eased in on itself.
There were gradually less and less throwing themselves at us; Ignis no longer dealt with pairs of two, sometimes three rushing at him, barely cruising the edge of his longsword.
Evrenn no longer dealt with larger groups forming toward his side. Seraphina had no need to rush back and forth between the lanes, exhausting her lupine body.
Not to mention the fact that it seemed like the exploding one was only a singular occurrence somehow.
Which either means there was only one to worry about, or for some reason the others couldn't make it…
The realization hit us as their numbers thinned.
Deeper in the crypt, where the shadows pooled the thickest amongst the shattered statues, a single azure flare blinked alive, flashing between places with a speed that slightly threatened to slip beyond the edge of my attention.
The streak of blue light cleanly weaved through separately formed hordes, silver blade and electricity lashing out with utmost precision, before moving on to the next in a nauseatingly perfect rhythm. Like death itself choosing its next target.
It was—in its truest sense—a massacre. One that none of the sickening creatures would escape. It would seem that we managed to survive this enduring trial… for better or for worse.
***
We stood amongst the carnage, weapons held, but bodies almost slack from exhaustion
Tens of dozens of corpses piled at our feet, stenches still fresh in my nose, despite prolonged exposure; my physiology was as such.
For the first time since we arrived at this dungeon I finally felt that I could breathe.
Really breath.
I would've collapsed to my knees if not for the treatment Romei was still diligently performing on my arm. The pain had subsided by now, all that was left, it seemed, was for some skin to knit itself back together.
She briefly warned me about the scar it'd leave behind, and I shrugged.
Sometime during the clean up, Ignis rushed over to me, looking frantic. I had to practically push him away.
Aswalo exhaled hard, rolling his shoulders as he lowered his shield. "Can't believe it… We managed to get through all of this, huh?"
Romei let out a shaky chuckle from behind me. "Honestly, things were looking grim there once you went down. That thing's head…" she shuddered. "If it wasn't for Crownless, we could all be gone by now."
"No kidding."
"Tch." A certain someone folded his arms, looking unimpressed. "Bastard should've stayed in formation."
Evrenn leaned on his staff, eyes flickering towards the deeper end of the room. "Reckless fool nearly got some of us killed trying to play the hero."
But before anyone could respond to his comment, movement stirred, catching our attention.
Crownless slowly staggered from a shadow cast by the King's crown. His white overcoat was torn and stained with blood, with faint blue arcs still sparking from his limbs—the aftermath of that… spell.
Briefly, I found myself in memory, back at that snow-laden afternoon, the day of the exam.
A thick, melancholic air, stands filled with examinees both old and new, Ignis and I sitting together near the front, scouting for a third team member after our own fights.
A Master of the Adventurer's Guild by the name of Harghen—someone decently known, by the reactions of a few people in the stands—came out and announced that he was there to personally test him.
Crownless accepted, wielding that same azure armor against him… and paying the price for it later, with us.
It was like watching a living storm.
The way he moved—with such grace and precision, strong yet quick, wielding all forms of elements, even some of their higher tiers. Their battle lit a fire in the otherwise frosty arena.
A new, unknown, silver-core examinee with ties to a famous noble household, or Master Harghen of the Adventurer's Guild. Who would win?
…The true answer we may never know.
But the sentiment could be said about him as a whole. There's still so much about him that we don't know.
How is he so adept in magic? Who was his mentor? Did he even have a mentor, or was he self taught? What of his background? What kind of house did he belong to? What type of creature was his bond?
The question I found myself asking the most, however, was: Just what was the extent of his power?
A silver-core mage should never be able to push a Master to their limit … not in a million years. Yet, still, there was no denying it now. He was someone who held power far beyond his rank.
There was more—so much more—that someone of his caliber could… no, would accomplish.
If I could be so bold as to say:
The world might have finally given birth to a boy worthy of rivaling one of the Four Dragon-Slayers, Lucien Revalor—without even knowing.
…If it's him, then perhaps we could save them…
"He's stronger than he lets on," Ignis commented, bringing me back to reality. "Don't let his compact physique fool you."
"Now's not the time for praise, people… actually, was that last one even praise?" Crownless called out from afar, dropping to a knee in a fit of coughs. His voice was roughened. "How about we get the hell out of here, instead?" The words seemed to remind everyone.
"Right… The exit." Aswalo turned, eyes sweeping the chamber. "One should have opened nearby, since we've officially cleared the dungeon. It'd be best to spread out and search."
We fanned out carefully, stepping over shattered statues, scorched and frozen remains, and dismembered corpses, spending our time searching.
Ignis checked on me again—shooting Crownless an unsatisfied look—before reluctantly leaving in search of the exit.
Aswalo scanned high ledges, and Evrenn—for once—seemed enthused about something other than himself.
When Romei was done healing my wound, she moved to Crownless, giving me a reassuring smile.
His tired yet alluring golden eyes caught my own from across the room, scanning the newly formed scar that rested on my arm, visible from within the tears in my robes.
A bud of realization seemed to reflect in them.
Instinctively, my hand flew up to cover it, and I walked off, feeling something deep within my heart that I couldn't quite put a finger on.
The comment Evrenn made surfaced—about him almost getting everyone killed—and I thought to the moment when he left my side, and one of the creatures instantly filled that gap in the formation—before shaking my head, going to help the others in search.
It's not his fault. In the end, it worked out. That's all that matters.
After roughly ten or more minutes of the group scanning around for a sign of an exit door, we reconvened.
"Nothing…? That's weird," Aswalo began, a slight edge of confusion seeping into his usually confident tone. "Something like this has never happened before. It's almost as if…" his words trailed.
"Is there a chance it could've been sealed somewhere behind us? The previous chamber before this one, maybe?" Crownless proposed.
Romei was the one to respond, shaking her head.
"A dungeon's structural nature requires it to always have some form of escape present in the very last room, on the condition that it opens after the dungeon's inhabitants have been cleared, with the ones at the very end being the most important. To humanity's knowledge, their lifeforce acts as the key, simply put, and only by being extinguished can the door be opened."
"Damn it…!" Evrenn stomped his foot, irritation creeping in. "What, they built a crypt with no way out?"
"No, that's not likely," she countered. "It's as I've explained: something like that is fundamentally impossible. We must have missed something."
"Do you realize how absurd and far-fetched that sounds from our reality, Woman? You're saying that in order to leave, all the minions responsible for this dungeon must be killed. We've done that—and more—yet we're still here! Simply put, that means something you've said is incorrect."
"Accusing one another of lying here won't facilitate logical conclusions. We only need to put our heads to—"
"Don't you dare lecture me, human! You mongrels don't know the first thing about—"
I removed my focus from the conversation, feeling it take a turn for the worst, and instead, cast a glance at Ignis.
His attention seemed elsewhere, hyper-fixed on a point at the end of the room.
"Iggy? What is it?" I tried to follow his gaze. It landed somewhere near the statues.
Nothing in particular was there.
Turning back to him, I watched as his crimson brows raised, then tensed; his sharp, predatory pupils dilating, and his chest coming in a shorter rhythm than normal.
A grimace slowly spread across his face, as the words that came out of his mouth wretched my soul. "The King…" he began, hand reaching for his longsword's hilt.
"He's not smiling anymore."
The words rippled through the room, silencing everyone.
"...What?"
In unison, we all turned, sending our attention to the statue that loomed massive at the back-end of the chamber, in his throne.
Its eerie grin—which was tinged with wry, cruel amusement—was now pulled into a deeply unsatisfied frown. His eyes seemed even more hollow, if that was possible, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
"No way… It wouldn't, right?" The question came from Evrenn. "Rather than it being something we missed, it was…"
Then, a low crack split the silence.
The statue moved slowly, raising itself from its throne. Dust sifted from the ceiling, and the ground trembled once.
Then again, harder, as it began to descend the dais. Fine cracks raced up the statues legs, chest, and face, as stone began flaking away in a sickeningly familiar fashion.
…The King was coming free.
***