Chapter 74

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The Eleventh Floor, The Dungeon, Medea Island

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Wave whooped and hollered in joy as he sped across the ocean. The manasun glinted off the water, and the wind rushing by him made him squint his eyes, but they could do nothing to wipe the massive grin on his snout.

It’d taken a few days, but his surfboard was done. Carefully carved and shaped according to the flashes of instinct he felt then. When he was done, he’d called it the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He was wrong. This was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Skimming the surface of the Eleventh’s ocean, propelled by a wave he generated to push him along…

It felt right.

He’d been out there for hours and had no intention of stopping until the last moment.

Over his exploration of the ocean’s surface, it was inevitable that he’d end up near The Creator’s Core. As he passed the island, he felt compelled to the shore. Never one to disregard his instincts, Wave changed course. He yelled joyfully as the wave he was riding rose, then broke. He went up and down the wave, at one point launching himself into the air! He rode the wave as far as he could, right up to the beach.

Still laughing in triumph, his chest heaving, he rolled off the board and just… lay there on the beach for a while. He felt every grain of sand rubbing against his scales, and the feeling grounded him. It took him some time to control himself, but once he did, he stood. Lifting his board as he did, he quickly glanced over the shore. He spotted a rough-looking staircase cut into the stone. Once he reached it, he placed his board, almost reverently, against a stone outcropping.

He ascended the stairs slowly, running a hand along the stone warmed by the manasun high above. As he climbed, he began to notice the rising concentration of mana.

Not as someone with manasight would; Wave didn’t possess that blessing. Instead, he felt it in his skin, muscles, and Core. A tingling sensation that grew in pressure. Then a slowly growing ache in his arms and legs, as if he walked under tremendous pressure. Finally, he noticed that his Core’s mana pool was filling and rapidly approaching his maximum amount, despite being almost half-empty after the day of speeding around on the ocean.

He struggled to stand upright when he reached the top of the staircase. Each step was a herculean effort. Wave didn’t even know who Heracles was, but he empathized with them.

At the flat peak of the island, only a hundred feet above the waterline, The Creator’s Core was cradled in enormous hands of stone. The Core itself was massive and almost blinding to observe directly. It shone with a teal radiance that bathed the peak with stark shadows, where the fingers of the pedestal obscured the Core’s facets. Its pedestal was raised high above the peak, and at the base stood Paragon, the most potent manabeing in The Creator’s service.

“Ah, Wave. I wondered if your exploration would bring you here.”

“I greet you, Mighty Paragon, King of the Metal Court.” Wave managed to get out, the pressure on the peak high enough that even talking took considerable effort.

“Bah. What Court? Our numbers are few, and the other metal manabeings are mere sprites inhabiting the Sixth and swapping out their role as the Guardian to gather combat experience better. I am no King.”

“Not Yet. One could say I have communed more intimately with The Creator than most other Children. I am one of a few who acted as conduits for His power.” Wave spoke, straining to stand. “The Creator rewards loyalty, obedience, and competence generously. His creation of the Elemental Isles proves his intention to grant all Manabeings he contracts a place of their own, including you and your Court.”

The Spirit was silent for a time, staring unmoving at Wave as he trembled under the pressure of the sheer density of mana exerted upon him.

“Perhaps you are right, Wave. Yes…” Paragon trailed off, turning his head to face the manasun, obviously lost in thought.

“How fares The Creator in his Transformation?”Wave prompted, curious. “The amount of mana in the air here is… immense.” Paragon turned to face Wave again, slightly tilting his head.

“It continues apace. The vigor of the dungeon’s consciousness has increased as its core’s mana grows denser. I believe the mana level in the core will reach a critical state in… around two weeks. You cannot see it, but you can certainly feel the effects of the mana orbiting the Core. The disk formed by said mana reaches beyond this island’s borders. You are standing within the ring… only a quarter of the density and speed mana mere feet from the Core experiences.” Wave balked slightly, understanding the density would increase exponentially as it came closer to the Core.

“A quarter? I can barely stand! How are you able to remain so close?” He asked, confused and beginning to feel… bloated.

“By my nature. My contract with the dungeon states that I may take as much mana as he allows. He has not increased the allotment since before his current situation, so the rest of the mana avoids me entirely.” The Spirit explained. “But never mind me. While I am unaffected, you are far more intimately connected to your creator. The mana passing through you is absorbed BY you, with only the small amount that makes it entirely through your body being reclaimed by the disk. It would be best if you left soon. Before your body again begins to… change without your mind willing it so.”

Wave’s eyes widened in sudden panic, and after a short bow to The Creator’s Core and Paragon, Wave rushed back down the staircase as fast as he could. By the time he reached the beach, he was sure it would have been too late if he’d lingered a minute more.

Shaken, he clutched his board and threw himself onto the sea. He noticed, after a time, that while the wave he was generating drew mana from his core, the tingling feeling on his skin and the ache in his muscles remained. The mana within them stayed where it was.

And Wave had no idea what all that unfocused, unintentioned mana would do to his body.

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Outside the Dungeon, Medea Island, The Kalenic Sea.

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“Oh! Haythem! I didn’t see you there!” Haythem groaned, closed his eyes, turned his face to the slowly lightening sky, and gave a quick prayer to anyone listening that Vert would leave him alone.

“Vert.” He curtly stated when his prayers went unanswered, and the offending guilder stood before him.

“Oh, come now, Haythem. We are both Platinums, after all. Shouldn’t we let bygones be bygones?” Haythem opened his eyes and looked Vert in the eyes.

“Vert, let me be honest. I don’t trust you, and I will never trust you. We are not friends, and we will never be friends. That you’re now considered a Platinum doesn’t mean your personality, wants, or desires have changed. We ran into each other in this very dungeon not long ago, and you intended to attack me.” Vert stood silent for once, his gaze considering. Slowly, he nodded.

“Be that as it may, we are now part of the Elite. There are very few Platinums, in comparison to even Golds. We will inevitably encounter each other in the wider world long after we’ve left this dungeon behind.” Vert reasoned, and Haythem couldn’t argue his words. It was true if they survived the dungeon long enough or gave up trying to reach its depths.

“For once, I agree with you,” Haythem stated. “We are part of a small group, and pointless antagonism won’t help us. Let’s agree to politely ignore each other.” Vert nodded and, without further comment, walked back down the line to the rest of his party.

Haythem turned to face Jerrad, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why did you have to pass him?” Haythem complained, “Couldn’t you have found something he was deficient in?” Jerrad shook his head.

“I can’t fail prospective Platinums just because they’re unpleasant people, Haythem,” Jerrad chastised, though not harshly. “Besides, he’s friendly with a lot of the Golds. They wouldn’t riot over it, but they wouldn’t be happy, either.” Haythem grumbled slightly.

He was distracted, then, by the sun cresting the horizon. The new dawn was spectacular, a riot of pink, orange, and red as the yellow sun turned the purple sky into light blue. Haythem closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face, and took a long breath of the fresh sea air.

He opened his eyes and joined the rest of the raid group as they were granted access to the dungeon.

As usual, they began encountering roving patrols of the various crab variants once they passed the first cavern. Haythem had to give them credit; the crabs were improving. Their tactics were limited, but they were getting better at implementing and executing those plans.

The first group they encountered emerged from the sand around them, immediately lashing out to catch them off-guard. They failed. The Crabs must have realized who they’d ambushed because they backed off significantly. They kept a few yards distant, and three ‘Flame Crabs’ unleashed their magic at the group. Unfortunately for the crabs, Haythem and the rest of the group had already pushed through the encirclement and were slaughtering them.

With the chance they could do any damage thoroughly dashed, the remaining crabs retreated and disappeared behind various rock formations. The guilders didn’t bother chasing them. They weren’t worth the time or effort to hunt down, especially with the crab’s proclivity for straight-up vanishing when they were out of sight.

“There has been an altering of our plans for this delve,” Isid stated once they had started walking again. Haythem and Paetor shared questioning glances but remained quiet.

“While we still intend to delve as deep as we can while the dungeon is distracted, we have proof that They entered the dungeon four days ago. They bribed a guard to let them in at night and not to record their entrance. Given what we’ve discovered about their preparations, they might not intend to leave the dungeon for weeks or even months,” Isid revealed. Everyone in the group but Jerrad and Isid had stopped walking, and their jaws dropped.

“They what?” Harald asked in shock and anger. “That’s… That’s-!”

“Despicable, against half-a-dozen regulations, outright criminal and worthy of being banished from this guild’s jurisdiction, which is essentially the whole island?” Isid’s grin grew shark-like. “Yes. Yes, it is. They also stole our map of the Sixth, which was locked in one of Layla’s desk drawers. Theft, Trespassing, Bribery, Illegally entering a dungeon… And that’s just the basic stuff.”

“And you expect us to beat them and return them to the surface to banish them?” Haythem exclaimed, incredulous. Both his and Paetor’s parties obviously thought something similar. The idea that they could match Them was…

“I expect the dungeon’s monsters and traps to run them ragged, even without the dungeon’s mind overseeing them. We’ll find them exhausted, run-down, and in an unfamiliar environment.” Isid calmly laid out. “Either way, we have to reach whatever level They reach. We believe they’d easily bypass the Sixth, using the map to beeline straight for the Guardian, and move on to the Seventh.” Isid glanced between the guilders, looking each of them in the eyes. Haythem held her gaze for a second and nodded. Those were more reasonable expectations.

“So that’s what we’re doing, regardless of whether we planned to do it. Who’s ready to face an Elemental?”

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The Sixth Floor, The Dungeon, Medea Island

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Auora lay splayed on the ash-coved floor, absolutely exhausted. Though their numbers had dwindled as the night continued, the fact they were only approached two or three at a time severely limited the speed with which the Guilders could kill them.

Auora was sticky, covered in dried and fresh monster blood. A glance to the left showed Xerat was faring far better than her, using his water magic to clean the blood from his equipment. Chana had remained at range the entire battle, and her armor remained pristine. She was wandering the field of slaughtered bats, pulling arrows from the corpses.

Hallmark had lost his helmet during the battle. The cloth parts of his armor were even more tattered and ripped than the day before. The small cape that had once hung from his left pauldron was hanging by little more than a single thread. His once shining but now heavily dented and scratched armor was… even worse than Auora’s robe.

While she’d been drenched in blood and guts from the bat’s parts exploding under her hammer swings, Hallmark had butchered them. Even now, he stood in a slowly lowering river of blood that ran over the cracked ground until it discharged into the lava lake nearby.

Auora pulled herself from the pool of blood with a squelch, wincing slightly. She might have been as bad as Hallmark after all.

“I feel so much better!” Hallmark stated loudly, the relief and happiness in his voice at odds with the blood-soaked battlefield around him. “This was just what I needed; beasts to slaughter in huge numbers! All of you, clean yourselves up. We’ll take their cores and potentially useful parts with us. I want to be heading back up to the Eighth in two hours. Let’s get moving, people!” Hallmark ordered, pulling the fist-sized, perfectly spherical manacores from the carcasses.

Auora walked over to Xerat first. “Could you do something for my robe?” She asked, hopeful. “You don’t need to clean it completely; just get the majority off. I have a spare I can put on after we’ve harvested the cores.” Xerat smiled and nodded. A minute later and Auora felt more like a person.

Her robe was now a deep reddish-brown, with only a few places where the original color remained.

They took as many cores as possible, though they had to leave some behind when the two hours were up. They quickly replaced broken pieces of their armor and left the blood-soaked field behind, refreshed and ready to fight.

The Spirits on guard at the arena were simple to dispose of. Xerat stepped forward and doused their flames, rendering them weak and vulnerable. Hallmark moved quickly to break open their chests of metal and stone, seizing the cores within.

Once through, they passed through the long corridor that led to the Guardian’s arena.

The Fire Elemental was even easier to beat this time; Its attendants were the same, and though wary of the guilders, they were ultimately unable to prevent a repeat of their previous tactics.

They passed through the Seventh quickly, taking the most expedient path to the Tear’s Arena. Auora noted that they faced no monsters on the way, though she had expected them to see at least one group.

When they reached the arena, the lack of monsters on the rest of the floor made more sense. They were again facing down every lizard monster on the Seventh they’d killed before. Tear once again stood at the top, hefting his iconic hammer with ease, and the stone Elemental loomed over him.

“YOU ARE JUDGED,” he proclaimed. Auora knew… this fight would be just as brutal as the last.

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Max Porteous, 2023

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep