Dragonheart Core - Chapter 83: Fourth Sun

Coseth hissed through clenched teeth.

He shifted his weight as agony lanced through his calf; Kriya shot him an apologetic look even as she bound his leg tighter, pulling the bandages with strength that her thin arms didn’t show. She’d only halfway healed him, stopping any further bleeding and removing the tears in his muscle, but it wasn’t worth exhausting her when they didn’t know how much worse it’d get later on.

It was pretty bad already.

The fourth floor was fucking bullshit, if he had to put it politely—the third had already been terrible, fully underwater and swarming in more monsters than anything previous, and it wasn’t like he could fire arrows while swimming.

They had still been more prepared than other groups, which was the only reason they’d made it across. Getting through had the unfortunate downside of bringing up memories of why they needed to know how to fight underwater, which none of them were too fond of remembering, but the strategy still worked.

Sarissa had grown massive, craggy wings of stone and wrapped them all up, Birrin had reached out to sense every mind in their nearby surroundings, and Kentra had swam overtop and summoned a floodplain of lightning.

All of them had needed Kriya to remove the paralysis from their systems, but the detonation had given them just enough time to swim for the exit before the fledging sea serpent—the fucking sea serpent—had shaken off its own condition and pursued them. Coseth could still hear its furious shriek echoing through the marrow of his bones. He rather pitied any group that had been behind them, because they sure as all hells weren’t making it to the fourth floor now.

Not that he was particularly enjoying that honour himself.

They’d gotten used to the algae-light and quartz-light of previous floors; the only thing to greet them when they’d pulled themselves out of the water of the third floor was darkness, pressing and absolute. Even Birrin had tugged up his blindfold just to stare at it with wide eyes, though he’d pulled it down before he could look at anyone.

Eventually, Coseth could see that there was light, faint and near imperceptible. The walls were covered in algae that released drifting spores like tiny stars, floating in lazy, unconcerned circles until they eventually winked out as they landed. Barely large enough to see, let alone illuminate the floor they were now needing to be navigating, and inconsistent enough it couldn’t be relied on.

They’d had a discussion, quick and hurried, before deciding that Coseth would be the one making the sacrifice; it wasn’t like his arrows would be of much use in these cramped corners they were entering, and his mana only aided in aiming, which he could still do even without. So it was him that would be powering the quartz-light they would absolutely be needing.

It stung, just a hair. For all the four years they’d been working together, he knew that it was a clinical decision—his mana was the least helpful in this specific scenario—but that didn’t remove the bite. He’d come a long way from the merchant’s son who gambled without care for consequences; he’d grown into the world just as it had grown around him, and adventurer was the title he claimed with proud hands.

But you didn’t become an adventurer—or at least a surviving one—without working with your team, so Coseth slung his bow across his back and held the sliver of quartz above all their heads. Faint yellow-white light bled through his fingers, splashing against the walls, and promptly introduced them to the latest nightmare they’d be traversing.

A little more than ten feet in diameter, a perfect circle boring into the mountain face, positively covered in various flora. He could see the gold-red-grey stripes of razorleaf lichen, the deep green pearls surrounding clumps of jadestone moss, and even a strange, ridged algae that he didn’t recognize but was the majority. Everything shifted and twitched in a manner a little too alive for his liking.

Fucking hells, hadn’t Lluc said the dungeon was young?

As a group, they’d seen the first floor and settled their expectations, content that this would be just as hard a fight as they’d imagined. Difficult, tricky at the moment, but ultimately doable—even after the second floor, that had continued, though the groups at their side were quickly losing numbers. The third floor had been their first real hesitation; because for all that they had escaped through it nearly unscathed, that was only due to Kentra’s strange abilities. If they had been any other group, Coseth wasn’t nearly as confident they would have made it through. It wasn’t just any dungeon that could command a sea serpent, even as young as that one had seemed.

But as pressing the thought, there was another flicker of excitement. Because as they’d emerged onto the ledge leading to the fourth floor, all they’d encountered had been a worryingly large splatter of blood—much too large for any one person to have spilled and then survive. And past that, they hadn’t encountered another adventurer for their entire trek through the fourth floor so far.

Now. To be fair. The fourth floor was a maze of identical tunnels and endless darkness, so there was the not insignificant chance that they’d merely not crossed paths with other explorers, but there was also the easily likely chance that they were the only ones who had gotten this far.

And oh if that wasn’t a lovely, lovely thought.

Only five of them, mixed between Bronzes and Silvers, unbalanced and young—but they were strong. Powerful.

And if they reached the dungeon’s core, they would only become more so.

If they fucking got there.

Because in a surprise that no one could claim they saw coming, that mystery algae was alive and rather disliking of adventurers; it lashed out in thorned arms without precision but with the numbers to make up for it, whipping through the air and blending well enough in the blackness that there truly was no way to prepare for it. In the only stroke of good luck they’d had, it seemed hesitant around light, cringing away from Coseth’s hands whenever he came too close—that was the only way they had gotten it to release Sarissa, since it seemed durable enough to the blunt force trauma she was beating at it with her stone gauntlets. So Coseth had passed around his back up pair of daggers to Kentra and Kriya and just hoped that he wouldn’t have any need for them.

Maybe he could stab at it with a spare arrow. Surely that would work.

Except it didn’t matter, because there were still monsters on this floor, and Coseth was really starting to understand why dungeon-delving adventurers didn’t last too long. Bugs nearly as tall as his waist scuttling from the dark; slow, lumbering pill bugs with backs like a knight’s armour, mantises with claws like sickles and eyes starved for violence, even spiders that spun webs of pure iron, sharpened to a knife’s point.

Gods. He was too old for this shit.

The mantises were the most pressing issue, fast as all hells and vicious; they had to be more wary of the algae, considering that was a threat pressing in on all sides, and that didn’t give them time to react to the shadows blitzing in from every turned corner. Sarissa’s limestone gauntlets were able to defend against them easily enough and a thunderclapping punch did the same, but that distraction meant that the algae could try to strike for an opportunity, and Kriya’s energy was dipping much faster than they were hoping for as she tried to keep up with all of their opened wounds. As close as she was to Silver, she was still Bronze, and her mana was going to run out sooner than any of them were really comfortable with.

So instead she was switching to partial heals and bandaging, and they would just hope they would get through it all fast enough.

The last, and probably most annoying issue, was that the dungeon had clearly decided all its previous floors were too straight forward, and that it wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time. Coseth had been initially hopeful, traipsing through the tunnel as it curved invitingly downwards towards whatever room presumably housed the core, and then that hope had been squashed and danced upon as his quartz-light lit up a branching path, two identical tunnels forking off in opposite directions. Which. Fantastic.

In the choking darkness and cramped surroundings, there was no real way to tell time, and Coseth was really not a fan of that.

At least with Sarissa they could be sure they were taking new paths; she was raising little spikes of stone across the entrance and exit of every new tunnel they went through, preventing them from looping back, and though it wasn’t an exact science Coseth could feel the mana pick up, just a slight pressure against his skin. Eventually they’d be able to find their way through this fucking labyrinth.

And by the gods, when Coseth got his hands on the core, he would be turning this floor into an empty white hallway with arrows made of glowing quartz pointed directly at the exit.

Kriya tied off the bandages with a whispered apology as Coseth swallowed a yelp, tucking the end out of the way near his ankle. Sarissa glanced over, scaled fingers glowing as she kept a temporary wall up on the both sides of their tunnel just in case more mantises attacked, Birrin’s eyes almost glowing underneath his blindfold as he prepared to muddle the minds of anything approaching, Kentra’s hair crackling with excess electricity.

For all that they were covered in scratches and bruises and Sarissa was nursing a patch of ripped-off scales on her side, they were still up, and they were still fighting. That was damned more than most of the groups could say—and of course it had been them, the misfits, the silver-templed and the unbalanced, that had done so. Coseth flashed a grin as Kriya pulled him back to his feet, her hood fluttering before she pressed it back to her neck. “Thanks, kid.”

She smiled at him with twin fangs.

Sarissa let the stone walls drop, breathing a little heavily, but Coseth had his quartz-light raised and off they set before long, stomping through the tunnels with a single-minded focus. Whips of algae opened lashes across Birrin’s back and scoured at Kentra’s ankles but the mana was getting heavier, hanging densely against his skin. Coseth abandoned restraint and cycled mana through both the quartz-light and his eyes, peering through the dimness with enhanced vision for even a chance of something new. it had to be close–

Something shot through the air; Coseth’s enhanced gaze snapped to it and he opened his mouth in warning, but it was faster than he could speak, faster than an arrow, splattering across the face of the one out front. There were two distincts popping sounds.

Kentra screamed.

Lightning exploded out from her skin, wild and thrashing, striking through the quartz-light like the sun. Birrin let out a choked cry as he stumbled back, electricity crackling over his crossed arms, and Kentra hardly seemed to notice; her fists went wild, spinning, punching at the empty air. She hadn’t stopped screaming.

Coseth swore and thrust the quartz-light higher, forcing more mana through the stone—light bloomed between them, fiery tendrils of yellow-white, and reflected off serpents right before them. Dozens, more, mostly luminous constrictors but with a few grey-blue ones with crowned hoods and extended fangs. Sarissa hissed and slammed her fists together, wrenching up a wall of stone—but then a lightning-enhanced kick exploded through it, hurling rubble through the cramped tunnel.

Kentra spun, still lashing out wildly, and he got a horrible, horrible look at her eyes—at her face, because instead of eyes she just had a streak of venom hissing across empty sockets, blood and bile trickling down her cheeks.

She couldn’t see them. Couldn’t understand the situation. And Kentra’s first reaction to danger had always been to attack.

There was no time for second guessing—Birrin snapped his fingers and Kentra stilled, shoulders wavering, her mind fleeing from her control as he tangled together sensations and directions into a muddled mess. Lightning still crackled off her skin but she wasn’t attacking, fumbling for balance, head wobbling on her shoulders.

But they didn’t have time to focus on her because the serpents were attacking.

Half a dozen luminous constrictors reared, pale underbellies exploding in a blinding flash of light; Coseth stumbled back with a howl, arm wrenched in front of his overly-sensitive eyes, agony sparking through his head. He heard Kriya move, felt Sarissa brush past in the crowded corridor—he dropped the quartz-light to rub furiously at his eyes with the palms of his hands, anything to shake off the white spots flooding his vision. He needed to fight.

Coseth wrangled his sight back just as the first of the serpents threw themselves forward. No place to climb for their typical falling ambush style but they were still twelve feet long and powerful; Sarissa’s hands disappeared under stone gauntlets as she punched one out of the air, skittering back to avoid another, teeth bared and hood flared.

But there were too many of them and with the narrow tunnels, only Sarissa could be in the front to battle, close combat too risky with others at their side. She wouldn’t hold forever and all of them knew it– they needed to do something–

Birrin, hesitant but desperately understanding the danger, ripped his blindfold off.

Instantly, every serpent in his line of sight froze, trembling as their heads darted from side to side; mana coiled over their eyes, throwing together imaginary enemies or threats or dangers, whatever Birrin was thinking of as he kept them locked in his eyesight, careful not to look at anyone else on his team. This ability was old but untrained, too dangerous to unleash in ordinary situations, but–

Well. This was pretty fucking far from ordinary.

Coseth swept back as Birrin kept the horde at bay, reaching out to put a hand on Kentra’s shoulder—she flinched, arms rising, the last of Birrin’s muddlement fading from her mind. Her eyeless face turned in his direction, mouth open and lips trembling, skin tight with pain.

Kriya could fix it. She could.

No time for delicacy—he grabbed at her shoulders and shoved her back, pushing her away from the serpents. As much as she was their strongest offensive member, she probably needed eyes to do that, and they’d just have to protect her until they could get away. At a muffled command from Birrin, Sarissa stepped forward, preparing to drag up a stone wall and separate both sides from each other.

A new opponent emerged.

Serpentine but dwarfing the others present, some thirty feet long—its scales were a patternless grey-black, large and well-grown. Most pressing were the twin horns curling over its head, pronged like antlers but almost crystalline in material, a ghostly, translucent white.

Birrin’s eyes flicked up to lock it under his illusions.

The serpent didn’t so much as flinch. Its horns started to glow.

One by one, the other constrictors stopped trembling, their heads snapping back to face Sarissa. The illusionary mana faded from their eyes, drifting away in dying tendrils, and the constrictors reared back up—Birrin bared his teeth and redoubled his efforts, fully dropping his blindfold to the ground as he reached for power. The serpent’s horns glowed all the brighter.

Almost like it was fighting back.

Oh.

Birrin’s mouth opened in a silent gasp, eyes undulating between red and gold as he stared at the creature, something like quiet horror dawning in his gaze. “Psychic,” he breathed—and for all that he was looking directly at the creature, all that his uncontrollable illusions should have rendered it immobile, it was looking directly back at him. Its serpents—its underlings—continued to free themselves.

Coseth had fought alongside this group for four years. He had never before seen anything counter Birrin’s abilities, not when the boy was Bronze, and certainly not when he’d made the climb to Silver. Both of them were frozen stiff, staring at the creature, unable to comprehend what was happening.

And in all the confusion, they had forgotten about the first enemy they’d encountered in these twisting tunnels.

Sarissa only had a moment before a whip of algae latched around her shoulders, jerking her punch out of alignment—air fell from her lips in a pained grunt but then the thorns wrapped tighter, snaking around her throat, digging past her scales hard enough the exposed slivers of skin turned white.

Kriya immediately spun, eyes wide. “No!”

The serpent’s horns flashed.

At whatever unspoken command, another group of luminous constrictors rose and unleashed their blast of light, forcing Coseth and Birrin to stumble back; the cobra spat another blast of venom in the split second that followed and Coseth could only squeeze his eyes shut, praying that he wasn’t in its path–

Birrin made a high, piping scream.

He wasn’t, but someone else was.

Serpents threw themselves forward and Coseth didn’t have his daggers, didn’t have his bow out, and he’d dropped the quartz-light already; something slammed into his legs and he thrashed, staggering back. His eyes flew open despite the pain—more constrictors poured in, summoned by the horned serpent, and the others were defenseless. Birrin, shaking his hands desperately as they hissed and bubbled with venom, fell as a constrictor wrapped around his ankles. Kentra, still stumbling and blind, had no choice but to fall when something slammed into her from behind, lightning crackling unconsciously as she thrashed and spat. Sarissa snarled wordlessly but the thorns were pulling her closer to the wall, more whips wrapping around her arms. And Kriya–

And Kriya–

Kriya’s eyes had flattened to pale slitted pupils, hands pressing to the sides of her temples. “No,” she gasped, hood fluttering like it was caught in a storm. “No, no, get out get out get out–”

Coseth reached for her, even as the others fell, even as he fell. Protect the healer. Scales tightened around his chest and wrenched his arm back to his side, coiling until his collarbones creaked and his breath hissed out in pained little exhales but no inhales. Dimly, he was aware of the lightning ceasing, the thrash of Birrin’s boots cooling to stillness, the stone around him settling back to placid calm. Black curled in the corners of his vision.

The last he saw was the horned serpent curling around Kriya, its eyes a burning, soothing blue.

–

Seros prowled through the twisting paths of the jungle-floor.

Water scattered off his scales as he moved, claws dragging through lichen, eyes fixed on the blackness he could see through easy as light; for he was blessed with the power of dark seas, and this had no bearing on him. Few things did, for he was the chosen, the first chosen of the Core, and he was strong.

And soon he would be stronger.

His last kill had gotten him close, for all that it hadn’t been a fight—just a man, kneeling beside the body of someone with mana tasting like mangroves, and he hadn’t fought back. His mana had been sharp and bright, powerful, and it filled him in a way that meat never would. Still the blood in his veins hungered, calling for more, dreaming of wider skies and endless seas. It wasn’t content with this miniscule form.

Neither was he.

And so Seros stalked, following the trail of overturned greenery and the hesitant thump of a distant heart, the pull of water that wasn’t water at all, sloshing inside veins like river currents. His claws padded through algae and glowing spores, words he only knew because of the Core and all the knowledge he learned through their connection. With the Core, he had grown strong, the only one to move through all floors and keep the watch, the only one to curl in the hoard room and guard the precious stone that housed the soul of the dungeon.

The only one who would finish this.

In the back of his mind, he could hear the raid-frenzy, that which called him to hunt; but he needed no extra encouragement. Already he moved, already he searched, and his target would not escape like they so clearly thought they could.

He still did not understand everything. Information passed like shooting stars around his head, though the Core understood all and explained things when he requested it. All he knew was that these beasts, these invaders, would seek to take the Core. To claim it.

To remove that which had granted him thoughts.

Both Seros and Seros would never allow that to stand.

He prowled forward, algae retreating from the weight of his presence. The tunnels had long ago ceased to confuse him, though he watched lesser creatures fumble their way through—they could not taste the coils of mana billowing from one tunnel to the next, telling him precisely where he was and where he needed to go, a comforting guide in the darkness that had no hold over him. For he was Seros, chosen of the Core, and there was no place within this mountain that could keep him out or away.

But he wasn’t trying to find his way to the Core. No, he had another monster to fetch.

The invader stumbled through the choking tunnels, power snaking out and tasting of bone. It—she—moved with a graceless haste, bashing through other creatures, tearing herself free of algae as she pushed forward. He could smell blood, thin little droplets, and only some of it was from the rats and bugs that filled the halls. She was injured.

But not defeated. That would fall to him.

He padded alongside algae trampled by boots, rats twitching through death throes with limbs torn from alignment, scattered curls of mana that tasted white and cold. For all that she was blind and unaware of the beauty of the Core, she had managed a relatively correct path, winding her way through the tunnels with only a few crossbacks. Nowhere near the stone jungle at the core, still much more trekking to do, but slowly she chipped at the distance. He had no real reference of time, unnecessary as it was in the dungeon, but if she continued for long enough, she would reach the final room. Would the—he fumbled for the right word for a moment before remembering—ratkin be strong enough to defend her, keep her back from the fifth floor? Perhaps.

Unacceptable. The risk was far too great.

Seros picked up the pace, ignoring mantises that lashed at his scaled bulk and walking boulder-bugs that refused to flee in terror as he stalked past. The blood grew stronger, sharper—he could feel her mana, pressing coils around his insides, strangely enough. Not enough to figure out what she could do with it, but enough it made him bare his teeth and flare his frills. For someone to have come so far, she would be dangerous.

But Seros was more dangerous. The bloody, ancient thing in his veins hummed, pleased with the thought, still yearning and snapping and hungry for more—he still didn’t know what it was but he knew it was good. Was strong. And soon he would unlock it.

For he was Seros, was Seros, and there was strength in the Name.

The ferocity carried him forward around the twist in the tunnel and brought him to his prey.

She was another fleshy human, though with something odd over her face, shorter than him with flowing wrappings around her body. No light, not that he needed it, but it seemed she did—even as she raised her hand, a rat thrashing under spools of her mana, she had her head tilted to the side, listening. He felt loops of mana brush all around her, sensing for bones to tell her when enemies approached.

There was a wonderful sort of pride as her mana brushed him and she froze.

She was right to be scared.

Seros padded forward, tail swishing in the cramped corners. Soon he would outgrow these halls, his bulk already forcing him to duck and restrict his movement. She abandoned the rat and turned to face him, locking onto his form despite the dark.

She was strong, power thrumming underneath her oddly-shaped face, fleshy arms raised. Already preparing to stop him. To grind all his progress to a stop. Her eyes, while initially frightened, were calm. Whatever power she had, she expected to come out on top. To twist the favour until it wasn’t a fair fight.

Seros had no intentions of ever letting it be a fair fight.

He charged, and for just a moment, he felt wings spread behind him.