The Dungeon Without a System - Chapter 80
As Wave and Taura approached the slivery-grey walls of the village, Wave took the time to appreciate and admire them. Something he hadn’t done the last time. After all, he’d been with the Fire Court’s procession, and they’d been sent on towards the Eleventh rather quickly. Taura picked up on his interest and was happy to enlighten him.
She explained that the walls were constructed of Mythwood as they drew closer, created by fusing mithril with the wood after it’d been put into place. The tree in the center of the village had been their first successful experiment. It was incredibly tough, taking on the best parts of both ingredients. The flexibility and resilience of wood, combined with the magical hardness and toughness of mithril. Their only mistake had been performing the ritual on a living tree, which meant it could heal itself, rendering any attempt to cut it down and use the timber pointless.
She was about to go into how the ritual was performed when they reached the gate. It swung open and revealed the First Bull, standing with his arms crossed.
“Dad!” Taura exclaimed. She ran to the enormous minotaur and hugged him around the waist. “I found him, just like you asked!”
“So you did,” Asterion gruffly acknowledged with a nod, patting his daughter on the head. He then turned his gaze on Wave, and the monster was pinned by the intensity in the minotaur’s eyes. The First Bull snorted, this time in amusement. “Are you just going to stand out there? Come in,” he finished. Wave sighed in relief as the minotaur turned and walked into the village.
He rushed to keep up, listening as Taura recounted their ‘adventure’ to the cliffs.
“The Creator spoke to you?” The minotaur asked, turning to look at Wave with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, I felt The Creator’s presence,” Wave responded confidently. “I have heard His voice a few times now, and He spoke the same way He had before. It was abrupt, and He seemed strained. After giving me this quest… His presence retreated once more. It was just as disturbing a feeling as it was the first time, if not more.”
The aching feeling in the void where The Creator’s presence rested required constant effort to ignore. He’d had time to get used to the feeling, but now it was like ripping a scab off a fresh wound. Asterion grunted, rubbing his hairy chin.
“Must have taken great effort to contact you. If this ‘quest’ He gave you is important… I’ll send word to the other Children.” The First Bull stated, nodding gravely. “They’ll look for abnormally large cores, and so will I, though I doubt you’ll find one here. Best bet is the Drake-kin; they supply the Fire Court on the Sixth.”
“Then that is where I will go.” Wave declared with a nod. He passed the surfboard off to Taura, who blinked in surprise. “Please, take care of this for me. I can’t take it with me, but I’ll need it to get to The Creator’s Core.” The minotaur cow accepted the board, ducking her head as her father raised an eyebrow at her. The bull shook his head and sighed in exasperation, then turned to face the crowd of Minotaurs.
“Aston!” Asterion bellowed, prompting a minotaur to step forward. Wave remembered this one, who had guided the Fire Court’s procession to the Eleventh. He’d grown a few feet since then and was only a few feet shy of his father. When he reached them, Aston knelt on one knee, resting his right hand in a fist over his heart.
“Yes, Father?” the young minotaur grunted.
“You’ll join Wave in his journey. You need to see more of the world than the Tenth.” The First Bull ordered, waving a hand at one of his subjects. That minotaur nodded and ran off.
“As you wish,” Aston agreed with a nod. He rose to his feet and turned to Wave with a friendly smile. “You look… more comfortable with yourself.”
Wave blinked but realized it was true. He’d been lost the last time he’d come through here. Adrift. Now though, he knew where he belonged.
“And you’ve gotten taller,” Wave responded. “It wasn’t that long ago you barely reached my shoulder, and now you must be a head higher than me!” Aston chuckled as he accepted a long-handled battleaxe from a smaller minotaur.
“Out of the way, out of the way!” A female voice called. Wave looked and found it belonged to a robed minotaur cow pushing her way through the crowd, one draped in dozens of charms and necklaces. “Husband! You try to send our son away without letting his mother know!?” The cow demanded, glaring up at the First Bull. Asterion snorted.
“You know now,” the minotaur reasoned. “He’s only going to the Seventh. Won’t take long.” He set his jaw. The cow- Aston and Taura’s mother, sighed and didn’t even attempt to argue. She spent a few minutes fussing over her son before the minotaur that’d run off approached with two backpacks.
“Take these,” Asterion stated, passing the packs from the minotaur to Wave and Aston. “Be careful. The latest message from the Eighth said there’s still a guilder on the third peak.”
With those ominous words, Wave and Aston set off. It was midday, and they needed to get to the Scorpan Village before night fell.
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Pyry’s Nest, The Eighth Floor, The Dungeon
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Hallmark strode up the rough-cut staircase with violence in every movement. In one hand, he held the Ice Stave and, in the other, the crossbow loaded with a specially prepared bolt. He was ready.
He stepped up to the plateau, eyes scanning the carved arena. It was circular, with arches and pillars around the edges. There were no solid walls, and Hallmark knew from the walk up the stairs that beyond the carved pillars was a sheer cliff. He’d have to be careful since that made the center of the arena where he was most vulnerable. It was wide, flat, open, and exposed.
Hallmark was drawn from his thoughts as the Bird itself finally arrived. It soared around the mountain with an echoing cry, and Hallmark took the opportunity to scatter a dozen small metal balls around the arena. Most of them found places to rest in the cracks between flagstones. The Bird landed on the highest point in the arena, a literal bird nest that sat at the tip of a spur of rock. As it landed, it swept its wings down, causing a massive gust of wind to slam against him. Hallmark had seconds to direct himself sideways, so he was stopped by a crumbling pillar rather than careening back down the staircase.
Never again! Hallmark swore. He wouldn’t suffer that indignity again! As he pushed himself off the pillar, the Bird glared down at him, wings now spread wide and wreathed in lightning.
Hallmark had only moments to close his eyes as the lightning on its wings sparked faster and faster. With a great flash and roar, it threw the bolt it’d gathered at him.
He opened his eyes and saw the lightning had struck one of the metal balls, which had melted into a small yellow disk. He grinned. The Bird seemed upset and let out a cry he could barely hear past the ringing in his ears. It flexed its wings, and Hallmark took the opportunity to raise the crossbow before it could lift off or attempt to blow him out of the arena again. He fired.
It shrieked as the bolt scored a direct hit on its left wing. After a moment, the shaft of the arrow burst into flame. The Bird cried in surprise, though it was already employing water magic to put out the fire.
Hallmark hadn’t been idle while it did so.
It took seconds to reload the crossbow, and he quickly followed up with a burst of icicles from the Ice Stave. The Bird swept a wing sideways, and the icicles changed course. They flew around the monster in a circle, and Hallmark jump-rolled to the side as they passed through where he once stood. He was sure they were moving faster than when he cast them.
Hallmark put the Icicle Stave back in his belt. It might work as a surprise, but it wouldn’t help much. The Bird had to have Ice, Wind, Water, and Lightning. He could only name a few monsters that could use two elements, never mind four. This would be more challenging than he’d initially expected. Lightning and Wind he’d known about and planned for. Water and Ice on top of that wouldn’t make it impossible, but it would be far more tricky.
He might have to retreat at some point.
The Bird was in the air again, having taken the distraction given by the icicles to lift off. He noticed that the crossbow bolt was still embedded in the meat of its wing, though the Bird didn’t seem too bothered by it. It swept back towards the arena, wings wreathed in lightning, and Hallmark ducked behind a pillar.
He could feel the power in the air building, and he closed his eyes when it was at its peak. As before, the lightning was incredibly bright and loud, setting his ears to ringing all over again. As before, the bolt was redirected to a metal ball on the other side of the arena. Ten left.
Hallmark rolled around the pillar and leveled the crossbow at the Bird as it flew past him as circled the arena. He locked eyes with it, then pulled the trigger.
The bolt… missed. The Bird had been on a downstroke and had flexed its wind magic to deflect the bolt into the endless mists below. Hallmark scowled. Of course, it could deflect attacks it saw coming. Well, if it was going to be like that, he’d just have to ground the thing.
The next bolt he loaded was special. Unlike the fire bolts he’d merely attached small firebombs to, this explosive was more than five times as expensive to buy. Its effect should be spectacular! And extremely cathartic for him, of course.
Hallmark pulled the Icicle Stave from his belt.
The Bird seemed to have learned from its mistake and refused to land. Pity. He wasn’t planning on giving it a chance. He would wait for it to cast magic or force it to defend against the icicle staff, which could distract it.
It’d also seemed to have decided casting lightning was futile, given it had plenty of opportunity, and he couldn’t see a single spark on its wings. It could still attempt to blow him out of the arena, shower him in deadly icicles, or maybe even throw a blizzard at him!
Hallmark watched the Bird carefully as it circled the spire of rock. When it turned to fly over the arena, he quickly noticed. With a downward stroke, it passed over him, dropping a few dozen icicles that saturated the part of the arena Hallmark stood in. He sprinted to escape that area and barely managed it by throwing himself forward and landing in a roll. He heard the icicles shatter on the arena behind him and grinned up at the Bird.
“MISSED ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT BIRD!” he shouted, sure it could understand his words. The others had, after all. The Bird shrieked back at him and he felt his grin stretch his face as it took the bait.
He dodged four more waves of similar icicle attacks. Each covered a larger area than the last, taking longer and longer for the Bird to cast. As he rolled away from the fifth one, he brought up both the crossbow and Icicle Stave, throwing icicles of his own back at it. A split second later, the crossbow fired.
The Bird easily noticed the icicles and, as before, it redirected them. It didn’t notice the bolt behind them, one with a cylindrical tube for a tip. The bolt hit smack-bang in the middle of its chest. Then it exploded.
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The Third Peak, The Eighth Floor, The Dungeon
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Blizzard, the High Shaman of the Snowbold Tribes, watched in despair as Pyry exploded. They were higher up the peak, at one of the entrances to the tunnel system. They had a spectacular mountain view, with Pyry’s Nest taking center stage. He’d been up here since the human started approaching the nest and had witnessed their entire fight.
The human, who he’d been told was named Hallmark, was far more resourceful and clever than they’d expected. Early that morning, Yomel had searched the cave Hallmark had waited out the blizzard in, and he’d found the remains of the ambush party. They’d been stripped of their weapons and fur.
He shook his head with a sigh as Pyry fell, landing on the snowy plateau at the base of the staircase to her nest.
The ambushers were meant to lie in wait until the man fell asleep, but that plan either failed or he woke up and fought them off. Blizzard was unsure which. Either way, the snowbolds were dead, and their weapons turned on the Boss herself.
Hallmark was now descending the stairs. He slowly approached the fallen Thunderbird and, with an overhead swing, cleaved her head from her body. Blizzard didn’t know if she was still alive till that moment or if she’d died during her fall, but it didn’t matter now.
Blizzard could hear the human’s laughter. Hear the triumph and glee in it as it carried on the winds.
He sighed and turned to the wide-eyed snowbold with him. She was Sluice, the high shaman of the Second Peak Tribe. Blizzard knew she had a somewhat friendly relationship with the Boss monster, so her shock at defeat was entirely understandable.
“She… lost?” Sluice wondered aloud, obviously not talking to him.
“Yes. In part, it was our fault.” Blizzard admitted. “I should have known it had more significance than the human just taking things to potentially sell later. The crossbow and staff were key elements of this fight, and he’d used them effectively. But how had he pushed through his anger? The man was slowly being consumed by rage the entire time he’d been on the Eighth. Only after the last blizzard, when he sprung the ambush, did his rationality seemingly return.” Blizzard was sure to keep his voice low as he theorized aloud. They had no idea how acute the human’s hearing was.
“Ambush?” Sluice asked, now focused on him.
“It was Pyry’s plan, one I agreed with.” Blizzard shared. “She saw him and thought he was exhausted, angry, and not thinking clearly. We assumed he’d need to sleep at some point and made sure there was only one available cave to shelter in along his route. The crossbow and staff were weapons the ambushers had, but they did not have exploding bolts. Must have been something he had stashed away.”
They let the silence grow as the human set Pyry’s head on a small, merrily burning campfire.
“We can’t stop him, can we?” Sluice said, sounding defeated.
“We can’t,” Blizzard agreed. “But the Children on the lower floors are far tougher than you and I, either by living in an environment with denser mana or by The Creator’s design.
“We have to hope that they will be enough.”
