[Entering the Cubic Conundrum.]
[New Dungeon Entered.]
[Ember Acquired.]
Eric’s feet touched the floor on the other side of the dungeon rift. The air became frigid around him, and immediately the surrounding ice crystals, snow, and frost sublimated to steam that rose before falling once more as shards, only to hit the cloud of incendiary fury once more and infinitely repeat the cycle.
He looked all around. The platform he was standing on was a giant, icy cube that drifted amongst a vast expanse of other floating cubes, all connected with massive, icy chains that shot off in different directions into the hazy, frozen mist and vanished from sight. He was floating in a white void, except for the red-lined rift behind him.
Eric poked his head back through and held his bracer up to his lips. “No sign of the Steward. I’m going deeper.”
Peter tried to say something, but his voice was drowned out by background shouting and yelling. Naomi attempted the same, but was foiled as well. Shannon, however, seemed to get through—perhaps she had been able to get farther away. “You got out before the guards closed the doors off,” she said. “We’re all in here with the king while they’re sorting out what’s going on. You’re on your own for now.”
Eric grimaced. “Understood. I’m going back in. Rift in his chambers. Wild dungeon.”
“Won’t you be in a different instance?”
Indedroma’s voice spoke in their heads.
[I informed the other two of the circumstances. All dungeons do have instanced groups, but invasion dungeons already break the rules. There are no instanced groups in these. You could send an army in here—though I would advise against it, as we know the foreign deity is present and infectious.]
“What about level scaling?” Eric asked aloud. “Or party size scaling?”
[It seems that has never been the case, and I was misinformed or misled. This foreign deity knows of me, yet it cannot dislodge me. We are like two foes, separated by glass. I am bound to the Titan’s body, it to the Titan’s mind.]
“So Eric might be fighting an army in there,” Shannon said.
[Possibly.]
Eric felt that rage for revenge still coursing through him. But, he also knew that being rational could be the better play. “I am at the entrance. I could just hold it until the whole situation is sorted and you all can get to me.”
“No,” Peter said, his voice managing to break through as he must have been able to get to the part of the room that Shannon was at, where the background shouting was far quieter. “You should go get him. Close the dungeon. You’ve got the best solo survival ability. Take him out, and maybe the king’s mind control will go away.”
“Alright,” Eric replied as that heat in his chest rose and flooded through his whole body, as if the Blackflame within him was roiling and rising in anticipation of his revenge. “I’m going back in. If . . . if I don’t make it out for whatever reason, tell both Misty and Xera they are wonderful—”
Naomi’s voice cut through, “Cut the bullshit, Eric. You’ve got this. Go kill the bastard.”
Eric grinned at her bluntness. “Got it, boss.”
“Damn right,” Naomi replied, more of her original personality shining through.
Eric pulled his head back into the dungeon and faced the white void. “Okay, Alp, where the fuck did you go?” He went over to one of the chains, and his aura of incendiary smoke instantly sublimated the ice and rime coating it, revealing a dark, black metal beneath that was studded. He made sure his draconic foot-claws were out, and gripped onto the chain with his hands as well as he crawled along it.
Eric kept his ears open and focused his senses on listening to any threat that might be coming at him, but he didn’t hear anything. It was eerily quiet. There wasn’t even the howling of the wind.
[I have more information about this place. The Cubic Conundrum comes from a reality known as Nikthrond. This is a prison within that place, where the most dangerous criminals were kept. They are inside the cubes, kept in cold storage, or stasis, effectively.]
Eric grimaced at that. If there wasn’t any level scaling, and this was the prison of an entire reality which had to keep things in stasis, he was in for a couple of tough encounters. “How in the abyss did Alp make it through this place?”
[Perhaps he treated with the foreign god?]
“Maybe,” Eric whispered in reply.
He made it across the chain and found, to his dismay, that it ended in a metal wall, forcing him to go back to the starting cube. He followed another chain, which, again, led to a wall.
Third time’s the charm, he thought as he took the chain that angled slightly downward.
Thankfully, his Bristling Bastion had a far longer time limit now thanks to the Advanced Upgrade. He made it across the chain, and arrived where it connected. The metal cube was covered in white ice that melted as he got closer and his aura made contact with the walls. The connecting point put him just a foot below the lip, and this box was far larger—easily two-hundred-feet long and wide, but only twenty-feet deep. More concerning, the top was ripped off, like it had been ripped away leaving jagged, sharp protrusions.
Eric peered over the lip and saw several holes bored into the other walls right at chain-level to allow for egress to other sections of the prison. This area looked to have been converted to some type of prison gym, as he saw dozens of various creatures exercising. They were all hulking, bipedal cat-people, with massive torsos and digitigrade legs that sported wickedly sharp claws. They were lifting what appeared to be rolled up chunks of the top of the cube that had been shaped into weights.
Most interesting to Eric was the fact that they all were orange with black spots. He would’ve figured given the frosty environment that it had something to do with their homes being in some arctic region, and thus they would be white-furred. But no, they were more akin to jungle predators. Perhaps that was part of the punishment?
[This appears to be the first chamber.]
Eric knew he would have to go down there and through one of the openings to get along one of the chains. He had plenty of Sigils to burn, and with Blackflame Meteor only costing one Sigil . . . he grabbed his grimoire with his left hand and spent the Sigil. The symbol winked out as he dropped down to fourteen. He had yet to use the new version, and looked up to the sky above—well, the white fog.
He saw a rippling, black circle appear in the sky above, ringed with white flames that flickered with malefic intent. A sphere of roiling black and white fire descended from the portal, which snapped shut once the meteor cleared the aperture, and then slowly floated down as Eric counted the seconds down.
With one second left, it rocketed down.
Crack! Boom! Fwoosh!
The meteor impacted the center of the training area and spread the massive burst of damage in the one-hundred-thirty foot radius from the center, and sent a wave of heat all across the cube. Eric could hear the screams of the creatures inside as, to his shock, they actually survived the damage.
[Oh, wow, they are tough.]
Eric saw why as his vision shifted to Reaper’s Flamesight. He could see the foul corruption of the infecting deity, coating them and healing part of their injuries. His flames were harming them, and thanks to Final Reaping, the healing was being buffered and suppressed, but they were still alive. So Eric spent another Sigil and used Fiery Chains.
The monochromatic chains shot out across every single target, connecting them and tethering them together. They all looked for the source of their pain and identified Eric’s position, and with shouts and screams began moving towards Eric up on his perch. But, in doing so, they crossed over the phantasmal chains, inflicting more stacks of his Blackflame Blaze, giving him more stacks of his buffs, and increasing their applications of the burning DOT.
Eric backed away on the chain, knowing that he had the advantage against their greater numbers given that they could only approach him one by one on the chain. He manifested all ten of his floating spears within the incendiary cloud, and crouched so that he could keep both feet firmly planted, hold onto the chain with his right hand, and keep his grimoire held up in his left.
The cat-humanoid monster-denizens, fueled by the plague-gods regeneration and might, surged over the lip of the box they had once been contained in. The moment they came into sight, Eric let loose with Blackflame Breath, channeling the area of effect in a line down the chain. He had become a living flamethrower, and before even stepping five feet along the chain, the first cat-person fell and restored twenty percent of Eric’s health and mana.
The moment that happened, Mana Burn activated, and Eric’s breath weapon exploded with a loud bang! sending the rest of the cat-people flying back.
Huh, so that’s how that works.
Eric had to shut off the Rote to take in a breath, as he had to exhale while expelling the mana for that ability with his lungs. That gave the cat-people a chance to surge forward, only to meet their death at the stabbing fury of Eric’s flaming spears. It was a slaughter, since their numbers counted for nothing, they had taken a ton of initial damage from his meteor, and were now not only taking continual damage from his cloud, but amplified damage from being closer to him thanks to Fires of Death, and an additional damage amplification when struck by his floating weapons.
Within a minute, the combat had ended, and Eric moved forward along the chain, ignoring the buzzing on his wrist. “Suppress all milestone notifications until we’re done here.”
[Understood.]
Eric got back to the cube and gauged the drop. He would have to roll with the landing, but with his stacks for the next few seconds, he had the musculature to take it. He dropped down and rolled with the landing. “Alright, two ways to go,” he muttered. Thankfully, the cat-people had carved labels into the frame of the ‘doors’ next to the chains. One read LARDER, the other read QUARTERS.
I don’t want Alp doubling back on me, Eric thought.
He used his Blackflame Harvest to melt the metal of the cube over the opening leading to the larder, sealing it shut. Someone would have to either pry it open again, drill through it, or climb up the sheer, cold outside to get through. Then, he headed toward the chain leading to the quarters. This chain was far wider, and could easily accommodate six people walking side-by-side. The links were so wide that Eric could have lain down and rolled around a few times before falling off.
He moved down the chain and reached the quarters. That huge chain ended in a massive set of double doors which had been opened. The same words were pressed into the top of the cube. There was no-one standing on the outside, and everything was quiet and still. Eric moved into what he assumed was the next chamber.
It was a prison block, quite literally. The building was full of prison cells, stacked high up from floor to ceiling, all across the five-hundred-foot tall and deep room. Eric was just in one corridor that looked like it ran through what must have been dozens of corridors, with stairs that went up to other levels.
[I estimate approximately one-hundred and twenty-thousand prison cells, accounting for the hallways and stairs.]
Eric heard noises all around him, and his Reaper’s Flamesight picked up vital signs. Hundreds—no, thousands—all coming out of their prison cells. Whooping, hollering, saying things in languages he didn’t understand.
I don’t have a big enough area-of-effect to get all of them, Eric thought. As long as they don’t have range—
He could make out the flickering of colored lights and immediately sprinted for the closest open prison cell that was empty.
—Core-cracked. They can use magic.
Where he had been standing, explosions of acid, lightning, fire, ice, and even clods of rock impacted. He could feel the blast wave from the fire inside the prison cell. Eric didn’t have an AOE large enough to deal with something this large. The closest he could do was a Blackflame Meteor that would detonate above the ground, but even then that wouldn’t get a big enough area.
[Invasion dungeons do not require you to clear every chamber. Just the dungeon boss must die: the one who struck the bargain with the invader deity.]
Can you figure out where the exit of this cube is?
[I cannot. You’ll have to guess.]
Maybe funnel them up the chain?
[Risky if they have range.]
My thought as well. Versus in here I have hard corners to use as cover.
Eric took a few breaths to pump himself up, knowing that he would be targeted by magic the second he left the door. They had prepared, no doubt, and had formed a firing arc. Lucky for him, though, he had upgraded his Skill. He activated Flashstep, and thanks to its upgrade, he could turn a corner and get another eighty feet down the corridor.
He blitzed out of the doorway and down the corridor. Spells did fire off at the prison cell entrance, no doubt prepared to fire at the target the moment they were visible. But Eric was far past that, and he kept sprinting down the main, central corridor, firing off Blackflame Harvests at the various foes on the raised platforms up above. There were more of the cat-people, but these ones had varying coloration and builds.
Maybe I took out a specific gang? A group whose turn it was in the workout yard?
Eric turned a sharp right corner to avoid what looked like a ball of acid fired at him from dead-ahead, only to run into a group of cat-people who were holding makeshift weapons—maces and clubs from broken-off bars and bits of furniture. But, they were hit by the incendiary cloud, and thus couldn’t find him in the haze: plus they were suffering the DOT buildup. Eric ran past them, diving between the legs of the biggest to get through the makeshift wall.
Getting into the next corridor, he could hear the guttural growls and yowls all around him. Something pressed against the edges of his mind—an enchantment or thrall effect—but he’d dealt with some of the strongest Skills of that type when he had gone through Ardenarnexlar. Darius had trained him how to resist, and practiced with him so that the once-Exarch could prevent himself from being compelled against his will.
Eric focused all of his thoughts on the crackling black and white flames surrounding him. He let that singular image fill his thoughts, the idea of Alp burning to cinders, killing the man who had made his life hell. The person who had exiled Eric from the kingdom he tried to save from itself after a war that brought it to its knees.
He heard screams from up on one of the raised platforms, but didn’t stop running. There had to be exits. He could hear more chanting, more incantations, the tromp of footsteps as people chased him.
Crack!
Something impacted his back, and sent him tumbling forward into a recovery roll as he kept sprinting. The reactive shot from his armor blasted back at whoever had hit him with whatever it was, but Eric was fully focused on his objective, and the damage he had suffered was healed thanks to the burns still going on the foes he was tagging with more Blackflame Harvests he fired off as rapidly as he could.
Finally, he reached the far end of the cube from where he had started. Then, he moved right, along the edge, looking for another door.
Zap!
A bolt of lightning struck him in the back, right where the armor had been destroyed already, and the lights went out for a moment as he fell flat on his face. Then, it all came back, and he sucked in a deep breath as he got to his feet.
Indedroma sounded panicked.
[Your heart just stopped.]
But my healing got me back up, Eric thought back.
Still, that brief moment of falling down was enough time for the melee pursuers to catch up, and Eric had to turn to face them. He let loose with a Blackflame Breath, which had been building up with Mana Burn that had stacked to an ungodly amount of excess mana.
Bang!
The explosion that shot out from Eric’s mouth sent him flying back thirty feet, skidding on his ass across the floor, and slamming into one of the metal walls with a thud that jolted him from the sudden impact. As he regained his senses, he looked on with astonishment.
The cone that he had intended to fire off had completely destroyed that section of the cube. It was gone. The white void of the reality slice below was clearly visible, as was a long chain that extended down into the vastness below.
[You had quite a bit of excess mana there. Maybe next time, don’t use Blackflame Breath. Use something else.]
Yeah, I’ll do that, Eric thought back as he stood up.
Another group of the cat-people began firing spells from up above, which didn’t find their mark thanks to his smoke and cinder cloud. He turned at them and spent another Sigil, firing off a Cinderstorm which rocketed up and exploded, igniting the whole lot of them and then leaving the rain which kept dealing further damage. Eric moved farther down the corridor, and another volley of magical projectiles came after him—more bolts of lightning. Those found their mark, and thankfully this time hit him in protected parts where the armor still covered him. The reactive shell detonated, sending counter-attacks back at the assailants.
I’ve got Sigils to burn, Eric thought as he scanned for clusters of enemies. He fired off another two Cinderstorms, and two different clusters of enemies on upper levels—igniting them and sending them screaming off in various directions as they tried to remove the flames to no avail. He kept sprinting down the corridors, and kept firing off his Rote as quickly as he could. When clusters of the melee-oriented foes rushed around a corner, he used Blackflame Breath to ignite the whole group. He wasn’t focused on trying to take out an entire prison of possibly hundreds of thousands of foes, he just wanted to find the Steward. He wanted his revenge.
And, these were dangerous foes. The fact that he had already had his heart stopped from a lightning ability of some type and only survived thanks to his constant healing from siphoned health was a reminder that he was in danger, and that these foes did not scale to level. They were some of the most dangerous prisoners of their reality, and he had no doubt that among their numbers there had to be more potent foes that could obliterate him. No, speed was more important than trying to harvest milestones.
Although, as he saw a large group of several hundred off in the distance, he targeted the center of the cluster with a Blackflame Meteor, then turned and ran the opposite direction. The enormous crack-boom-fwoosh! of its impact behind him, and the surge of health and mana, told him enough about what effect that Skill had.
He moved to his right and saw a set of doors with a label above them. ADMINISTRATION. They were shoved open, and he moved through them, entering a rectangular hallway. Running down the corridor, he reached another set of doors which were closed, and he willed his floating spears to pierce and skewer the door along the exterior edges until there was nothing holding it in its frame and he could kick it down.
Clang!
He stepped over the metal door and entered a bare office. It was all metal, just like the rest of the prison, but with cube-shaped desks and chairs, all mounted to the floor, with cube lights hanging from rectangular pylons in the ceiling casting a bright, almost clinical-environment, sterile-white glow.
The room was empty, but there were more doors at the farthest end, and Eric moved forward towards those. But, something slammed into his back, and he hissed out in pain as it ate away at the scales and skin below, into the muscle and sinew. Wheeling around, he saw a cluster of the cat-people had followed him. Raising his grimoire, he fired off a Blackflame Beam, aiming right for the head.
The ray found its mark, and lanced through all but two of the target’s skulls, killing them instantly and restoring Eric to full health. He barked out, “Flee or die with them!”
The others ran.
[Ah, smart. They are only classified as dungeon monsters, but still mortals in their own reality slice. You played on their desire to live,and the fear-inspiring feats you performed in the prison to scare them off.]
Hopefully they spread the word, Eric thought. He jogged over to the back rooms, and as he was about to open one, stopped, as he heard talking from inside. He pressed his ear to the door, and heard Alp’s voice.
“I told you I took care of it,” Alp said. “Who cares if the king is deposed? His prince will be put in place. He’s in the lower-city, whoring. I already have him under my thumb, without using any Skills. Add that on top? I’ll have full control of the kingdom via proxy.”
A voice with an almost Persian accent, deep male and purring, replied, “You are certain this will not set us back?”
“Positive,” Alp replied. “Even though my network has been unraveled, the infection has spread. Trok has been successfully infected.”
Eric’s eyes went wide. Indedroma echoed his thoughts.
[Oh . . . oh no . . . the Steward and Admiral, their drugs . . . they were spreading the plague god’s influence . . . asymptomatic carriers?]
Eric felt chills going down his spine, but knew he needed to listen in, to learn more of this plan, so that he could figure out how to best stop it. They already theorized the countermeasure, and Indedroma had spoken to someone in Flescion with the appropriate power of Class, equivalent to Exarch, who could level up and obtain a ‘contagious antiplague’ Skill to counter it. That problem would be solved in time.
The purring voice said, “Well, then our next move is to infect Bhlast. After, you believe that war is on the horizon, yes?”
“Very much so,” Alp replied. “The Empire of Pwish is going to fight to regain its lost colonies turned Petty Kingdoms. Those Petty Kingdoms have alliances with Bhlast, so we’ll get dragged into it—provided we ally with them.”
Do they have knowledge of the future? Eric thought with dread.
[Not from you, and it’s doubtful they learned it from a Diviner. More likely he has political insight from intelligence networks and is making logical assumptions.]
Probably.
“Ah, excellent,” the purring voice replied. “Then depose this king, place the prince on the throne, and our plans go forward. Once the war begins, the disease will spread, and once our god has infected everyone on Elyndor, we will all see his glory, and can work towards bringing him to freedom.”
They have no idea that freedom literally means the destruction of the planet, Eric thought.
[Heard enough?]
Let’s see if they say anything else.
Alp sighed. “The only problems I foresee are twofold. First, the other small council members. I need a clean sweep.”
“You do know my species are capable of shapeshifting. The portal has been there long enough, we can start coming through.”
“We agreed,” Alp said almost admonishingly, “that it was too risky. Their dietary needs would cause too much of an upset.”
“Surely no one would miss the indigent and poor going missing? The lower-city seems like the perfect feeding grounds.”
Cannibals, Eric thought with disgust.
Alp clicked his tongue. “I suppose if we could have a few of you kill and replace the Spymaster, Castellan, Magistra, General—Bortis is fine to keep as-is: he’s clueless to the true machinations of Tenebria.”
[Ah, well, silver lining. The man running the Consortium is in the clear.]
Alp continued, “The Summoned are the second concern. They are a factor that are unknown. I had planned to let the Admiral dig her claws into Mercer, and I was going to split the rest up, but the Magistra has been irritatingly good at keeping me away from them. Damn her position. And damn the Summoned in their growth. They are so powerful in such a short time.”
“Yes,” the purring man replied. “Our god has whispered as much to me—that they were powerful, vague though his words might be. Those Summoned are dangerous. It seems they are part of this faction that seek to kill the Titan—”
“Idiots,” Alp muttered. “That would kill everyone except those under ten.”
“Regardless,” the other man continued, “one of them has the power to permanently destroy our god’s form.”
“Mercer,” Alp said. “The Blackflame Warlock.”
“That seems to line up with the cryptic words.” The purring man sighed, and took a sip of something. “I wish that our god did not speak in riddles and half-vagaries, but who are we to question his will?” There was a sound of pushed back chairs, and Eric backed up, pulling his shroud of crackling, ashen fury back to right next to his skin, and grabbing one of the spears. “Well, you should depart. You have a kingdom to corrupt and take over.”
The door opened, and Alp stepped out, not spotting Eric in the corner. One of the cat-men stepped out, and Eric immediately re-expanded his incendiary cloak and stabbed him through the head. The plague-deity tried to spill out and cure the wound, but it was a lethal shot to the brain—perhaps if there was not Blackflame, the ultimate force of annihilation, the monster might have lived.
But not with Eric’s power. He was the perfect counter to a deity that regenerated. Unlike the soul-bound dragon who was part-mountain and part-skeleton, this host body was a mortal shell: Eric only had to kill the host. In this case, a weak, mortal dungeon boss. This was just another prisoner of this reality slice—not some powerful vampire lord like in the Crimson Castle. Just a mob boss who rose to power, or something like it.
He died like the rest had.
The corpse turned to ashes, and Eric dismissed his armor as he tackled Alp from behind, taking him to the ground before he felt that familiar suction from behind. He went flying through the air and slammed into the ground, rolling a few times. Alp let out a cry of pain, and Eric ended up on top of him, pinning the man beneath him. “I got you, you fucker,” Eric growled.
Alp whimpered, “Release me! The king found me not guilty!” The man was face-down, and didn’t see Eric’s face.
Eric kept it that way. He took his right hand, the claws on his finger thanks to his still-active Cinderscale Shroud, and raked them across Alp’s eyes. The man let out an ear-piercing shriek and kicked, trying to escape from Eric’s weight and strength, but could not. Eric felt that white hot heat rushing through him: the same as when he had been next to the Admiral. But this time would be different.
Eric put his full weight onto Alp, pinning him with his butt, and used his bracer’s Storage Dimension. He grabbed some thin corded rope, and bound Alp: ankles and wrists together. The man was blind and helpless. Then, Eric grabbed the Ashes that had all congealed and coagulated, and tossed those into the storage dimension, before letting it shut.
Then, he grabbed the Steward, and whispered, “We’re going somewhere you know well.” He ripped a piece of Alp’s clothing off of him and shoved it into his mouth, then used a bit more of the cord to tie it in place, silencing the man. Eric headed out of the small council apartments, and checking to make sure the coast was clear, he made his way toward the four-way intersection.
He could hear all of the commotion inside the still-sealed temporary courtroom, and he went right past it. He knew the path he was walking, and it led down. Down past the Ley Line Locus, and to the darkest pits beneath the citadel. His pulse was racing in his chest, and his heart was thumping in his ears. He was so close to revenge, but he wanted Alp to know, just like the Admiral knew, who was responsible, and why his death was coming for him.
But, Eric paused at the top of the steps that would lead to those depths. He held Alp, wriggling, on his shoulder.
If I kill him without witnesses, what then? Eric thought. There could be a kingdom-wide manhunt. Is my revenge worth putting the kingdom into turmoil? He was found not guilty by the king, so if I kill him, then I could be in serious trouble: despite the mental control aspect.
He knew what he should do, and compared that against what he wanted to do. If he did take Alp to one of the dungeons—or heck, just a side chamber—and told him everything as he tortured the man, and then healed him up and took him back . . . in the golden glow of that Judge’s Skills, he could spill everything Eric said, and then Eric’s secret as a regressor would be out in the open.
Then, an idea hit him.