Every few days, Killian reminded himself that the Fangs of Pryviow were actually a professional group of mercenaries, and not a group of idiots. He could admit that spending as much time with Dack and Mycol hadn’t helped that perception, but seeing their ability to coordinate when they wanted to made it hard to think of any of them as fools any more.

The Fangs had been in the forest of Elniah for just over a month now, and Killian had been with them for four weeks of that time. Their contract was to clear out the gnoll infestation, but even the quilthoth they left had faded in the two weeks since they were removed. The reason they had stayed around was that a dungeon break was apparently expected, and the Fangs had just found it.

Jutting out of the swampy forest like a piece of the world had been taken from elsewhere and impossibly jammed into the ground, the entrance to strange ruins had appeared seemingly overnight. The architecture was similar to what you might find in the far, far reaches of the west, according to Lady Syb. With his new Aspect and ability to sense mana, the pair had become much more like colleagues than teacher and student. Killian would always treat her with reverence for being… well for being Lady Syb.

“So, there’s a living dungeon underneath our feet?” Killian was mostly understanding, but that part still seemed bizarre.

“Who can say for sure?” Lady Syb replied. “Some dungeons connect, they seem to reach for each other if left long enough. Others appear as if by design. All we can say for certain? Riches lie within, and they would be better in my hands than others.”

Killian was sure she meant our hands but said nothing. The dungeon fascinated him, the mana around it was ancient. That was the easiest way to explain it. It was the stench of years. Years of building up mana until the dungeon could hold it no longer and burped out an entrance. He found that he enjoyed the smell greatly. Killian decided it was the smell of adventure, and readied himself to join the raid.

Twozik was fiddling with a piece of armour which Dack kept telling him he didn’t want. The dwarf could be stubborn about strange things.

“I keep telling you.” Twozik enunciated each word slowly. “It’s not armour, it’s a tracker.”

“And I keep telling you,” Dack replied, exasperated. “I won’t need a tracker because I’ll be with the raid team. It won’t be like last time.”

“What happened last time?” Killian asked, joining the conversation. “I can take that if you want, Twoz?” Killian reached out and took the small metal disc.

“It clips on to your belt.” Twozik helped Killian get it fitted. The Fangs of Pryviow didn’t have anything too fancy on hand for someone like Killian, but all-purpose gear was better than the basic clothing. Replacing his simple clothing were a collection of leathers and simple fabrics. Twozik had proudly shoved the only real piece of armour he could give Killian at him a few days ago.

-Item-

|Masterwork Black Velvet Leather Breastplate|

Tanned, boiled and shaped by the craftsman Twozik, this breastplate is supple. Due to the quality of the leather and the skill of the craftsman, this breastplate has additional effects.

Effect: Wearer has an increased resistance to adhesion.

Wearer has an increased resistance to acid.

The rest of his basic leather armour, a pair of knee-guards and bracers, were the dark red of a more standard leather. Beyond that, grey and black clothing to allow Killian to potentially slip into shadows when they finally delved into the dungeon.

“Hey, Dack, what happened last time?” Killian sensed a story. A story Killian knew he needed to hear.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dack could be intimidating when he wanted, letting his rock armour fully form before stomping off, shooting Twozik a warning glance over his shoulder before meeting Ophana near the entrance. Killian laughed at Twozik and told him not to worry before leaving himself, looking for Pyre and Jol.

Pyre was consoling Jol. The two hadn’t started out very jovially, but through consistent combat trials, they’d formed a bond of teamwork. Jol was huddling under Pyre’s plumage, his face flushed from the heat and from frustration. The arguing had stopped, and Jol had settled into a quiet “mature” anger. His words, not Killian’s.

Pyre, for her part, was remaining impartial. She mostly sent feelings of sympathy to Killian, though she didn’t explain whether it was for him or Jol. Killian had decided that Jol should stay out of the dungeon. It wasn’t actually a hard choice for Killian, it was the obvious one. Jol’s looks of betrayal still made him doubt it though. Still, Killian wasn’t apologising for doing the right thing.

“Come on, Pyre. It’s time. Jol, we’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“I hope you die because you were too stupid to take me.”

Killian blinked, but didn’t look back at Jol. He shook it off quickly, knowing the fairy would regret those words immensely. Killian didn’t have time to help Jol not feel the hurt on that, but Killian could choose not to feel it himself. Jol was just worried. Blinking away a tear, Killian jogged to the entrance as the raid teams gathered.

“Stragglers. Here. Now.” Ophana’s voice both whispered and boomed at the same time, as though she was hissing in everyone’s voice at once. Her Aspect of Command allowed battlefield communication, it was incredibly effective at gathering the troops. Her Aspects suggested a planned path for Ophana Brunndar. Killian mused on that as the final few team members finished up and hurried over.

“Right. We have three squads, two of which know what they’re doing. Scout squad, go ahead.” Ophana gestured, four of the bronze adventurers and Mycol stepping forward. Catching the quizzical look that crossed Killian’s face, Mycol gave a thumbs up in his direction and mimicked sneaking.

“I am very sneaky, Killian, don’t you worry!” Mycol boomed loud enough for the entire forest to hear. Every danger within a mile would have taken off in the other direction at that. Killian instantly understood why he was part of the vanguard. If the group were unlucky enough to run into anything dangerous, Mycol would make that danger… not.

“Recovery squad.” The other set of adventurers, which Killian was not going to be with, moved into position. Lady Syb was with this crew, and a few of her fungolems swarmed around. Killian noticed they seemed to be carrying a few jugs and trays. At first he assumed they were potions or ingredients but another of the adventurers turned and took a small pastry from one of the covered plates.

“This shouldn’t be particularly dangerous, and you’ve got Mycol and the monsters in front so all you should need to do is grab the cores and shiny stuff they leave behind.” Ophana barely looked at the second team, the calm pace taking them into the ruins lazily. Tension held in Killian’s shoulders seemed to dissipate. Hearing what their objectives were, Killian felt he would have been well suited with them. He had kept knowledge of his inventory to himself, not even sharing that with Dack. It was his private vault, a more prized possession than anything he could put into it.

“You.” As though she was an inch from his face, Ophana gripped his attention firmly back into place. Addressing the final dungeon delving group, she took a moment to look them over. The rest of the squad had been brought to focus too. Dack, Killian and three others. Killian had tried to learn more about his new comrades, but they seemed reserved. Definitely a close trio, but not necessarily friendly.

Plus, Killian had done some damage to Lenko, the stealthy man who had got him around the throat. No permanent damage was done, but he didn’t seem to like Killian very much. Killian was okay with that, he wasn’t looking to share drinks with the man. Dack seemed confident enough, though, so Killian was just going with the flow.

The other two members were called Grant and Callan respectively. Grant had a shock of red hair, similar to Killian’s. Where Killian’s hair resembled fire, this man’s resembled blood, and his beard made it look like he’d just finished eating something. Messily. The smile that came easily to his face did nothing to remove the effect.

Callan however looked as though a rabbit would be more likely to harm you. Between the bloody-haired Grant and the shadowy Lenko, Callan was a ray of sunshine. A bald head that actually shined in the light, and a large shield emblazoned with a lion, he didn’t impose as much as get in the way.

The five of us made up the final squad. Monsters sometimes waited in corners for ambushes, their team were the response. Between Killian’s new sense of magic, which he was still getting used to, and Lenko - who’s Aspect of Shadow let him feel people hiding. Killian really liked the sound of the Aspect of Shadow, but Lenko had soured him on it.

“Dacklan is squad leader,” Ophana explained, “listen to him, stick to him and remove any and all threats. Don’t worry if anything tries to run out, we handle that. Just don’t let anything get behind the recovery squad.” Killian guessed it was mostly for his benefit, but this would only be the Fangs fourth dungeon as a guild, so refreshers were good all round.

The rest of the camp would remain here, a short distance from the entrance to the strange ruins. They set up at the edge of the dungeon break, the border of which was obvious. All around the dungeon break, a large area of the forest had turned into a desert. Killian had been astounded when he first saw it, and it continued to confuse him now. As though it had always been there, the yellowed stone of the entrance waited in the sand.

Without any more ceremony, the group set off. Killian’s foot landed onto the sand for the first time, and his Display filled with a surprising message.

-Quest-

|Assault on Seth, God of the Desert, Storms, Violence and Chaos|

The God, Seth, is staking claim in this land. As a Champion of a Goddess, you may dispute this claim and revert it.

Objective: Remove the focal point of Seth’s influence in Genia

Rewards: ???

Another quest with an unknown reward. Thinking of the spellbook that he hadn’t been able to use yet, Killian was hesitant. If this reward was tailor-made for him, then completing this quest would be amazing for his growth. However, Killian couldn’t pretend that the text wasn’t incredibly intimidating. God of storms, chaos and violence? Should he really make an enemy of something like that?

Worrying wasn’t going to help, and he wasn’t going to start making a fuss now. He would need to explain his Display, and his inventory… The thought made him close up and stay silent. With the gnolls, the Fangs had cleared them up but Killian had still completed his quest. Hopefully, Mycol and the vanguard would deal with it, and Killian could just reap the rewards. That was the very convincing idea bouncing around Killian’s head as they entered the dungeon. A small, two person wide (or one Mycol) hallway stretched into the darkness, Killian saw nothing past that. As he stepped into the hall, a change occurred in his quest.

-Quest-

|Assault on Seth, God of the Desert, Storms, Violence and Chaos|

You have challenged Seth, God of the Desert, Storms, Violence and Chaos.

In retaliation, Seth has increased the danger level of this dungeon.

Previous danger level: 0

New danger level : 2

Escape is now only possible by removing Seth’s focal point in Genia.

Light began to fade before Killian could understand the meaning behind the new prompt. Turning, but too slow, the group saw the entrance close behind them. Panic broke out quickly as darkness reigned. This was quickly remedied by Killian and Pyre, both igniting bright flames.

“What happened? What did you touch?” Dack had turned on Lenko, who raised his hands in peaceful submission. “Grant?”

“No.” The only word from the now very tense Grant.

“Wasn’t me!” Callan exclaimed, getting out ahead of any accusation. The four adventurers turned to Killian. Cool and collected, Killian also claimed ignorance, suggesting that maybe something had happened up ahead.

“Talking about it won’t solve anything.” Killian began to stalk down the hallway. “Follow me, or you’ll lose your light.”

Grumbles of discontent, followed by sighs of acceptance came from his companions. It hadn’t been too long since Mycol and his group went in, even less time since Lady Syb and the recovery team did. Killian reasoned that if they just continued on for a short while, the teams could meet up and think of a plan. So, they walked.

And walked.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, though they were likely only walking for half an hour. The first minutes had been a cautious, quiet sneak. However as their path was narrow, with allies assumedly ahead, the group became more relaxed.

“Why haven’t we seen anyone else? Why aren’t they coming back?” Callan was the only member of the team that couldn’t seem to shake the anxiety of the situation.

“They don’t know anything is wrong, most likely.” Dack was already considered the leader of the team, and he fit the role well. His rock armour had become a simple pair of gauntlets. He could dismiss it entirely, but it took longer to summon from nothing. Instead, Dack used a steady stream of mana from his core to keep the armour ready. Seeing the gauntlets made Killian miss Sherrin.

“Do you think something is wrong then?” Callan asked, clearly not assuaged.

“Shut up, Cal.” Lenko said, wearily. It seemed to Killian that the atmosphere was getting to each of them. Grant was chewing his beard nervously, rotating his large battleaxe over and over in his hands.

Killian was fairly calm. They’d seen no danger, and it was possible that the “danger level” that he saw rise earlier meant no more than a door closing. He tried very hard to convince himself of that, and kept his new senses flared as much as possible. With the Aspect of the Archmage, his awareness of mana had become heightened to an insane degree.

Killian could feel the magic in the air, he could feel it trying to make strange shadows as the mana bound itself to the darkness. With enough time, the ambient mana in here may produce Aspects, but it was more likely to create monster cores. Which, matching the area, be terrifying shadow monsters. Killian shook that idea from his head, continuing to feel through the walls and down the hall.

“There’s more hallways around us.” Killian told the group. “I can feel the mana in them. To the right and the left, below as well.”

“And you haven’t sensed any monsters, right?” Callan begged.

“Callan, I’d tell you if I sensed.” The rest of the sentence was obvious, and useless, as a clawed arm started reaching from the wall. A scream from Killian was the only warning anyone had, unable to explain the situation and choosing to get Lenko out of the way with a shove. The large, dark-green arm slinked back into the wall, disappearing.

“Pyre. Light.” Pyre started spending mana at Killian’s command, banishing the shadows around them. Killian only had advanced knowledge because he was focusing his magic sense, a second later or a touch distracted and Callan would have been grabbed. What that would have meant, Killian hoped not to find out.

The group huddled. Dack continued setting their pace, the bright light around them seeming to hold the creature back. After describing the arm, Grant named the creature a shadowfiend. It meant little to Killian, but the other four were on high alert.

“How long can you keep the light on, Kil?” Dack asked as they started to hurry down the hall.

“Between Pyre and myself, a long time.” Killian’s mana pool was full, Pyre was beginning to feel the strain, and Killian refilled her reserves with his own. A quick estimate gave them over an hour at this rate. At their hurried pace, that should be more than enough time. The hallway can only go on for so long, they thought.

After another forty minutes of the same yellow-coloured stone walls, true worry started to set in. Their flight down the hallway had been uneventful, but incredibly tense.

“What do we do?” Callan was complete deadweight at this point, serving only to add stress and panic.

“We continue. Unless you have any bright ideas, useless howling idiot.” Lenko had gotten frustrated with Callan first. However, in the close proximity, their enmity only served to make it worse. As though the five men were on an island with limited resources.

“Me useless?” Callan said, voice suddenly high and agitated. “Don’t you have an Aspect of Shadows? Can’t you do something? Kick it out of the wall or something?”

“Are you serious?” Lenko replied, stopping the group by grabbing Callan. Until this point, it hadn’t gotten anything close to physical, but now Lenko had Callan pressed to the wall. Callan squealed as his back hit the stone, kicking and clawing at Lenko’s hands. One of Callan’s feet came up and pushed Lenko back, Callan bringing his lion-faced shield in front of him. With a yell, he tried to push Lenko out of Pyre’s area of light.

Killian was hesitant to react, not sure how he could help. He kept his senses open for the shadowfiend. It was Dack’s job anyway, Killian thought. Keep the team together, captain.

Dack wasn’t keeping anything together though. Killian couldn’t see the face of terror underneath his rocky helmet. Couldn’t see the sweat, the panic and the anger. Killian didn’t notice that Dack had gone quiet, and despondent. What Killian did notice was Grant, turning about face and stomping towards Lenko and Callan.

The bloody-bearded man swung his axe. The downward swing wouldn’t have been fast enough to catch a snail, but it served to move the fighting men apart. “Enough. Move or we die.” Grant had a surprising soft voice, Killian noticed.

“We’ll die no matter. A shadowfiend is a silver monster. Everyone ahead has been devoured.” Callan’s hysteria was pressing onto Killian, his bronze ranked charm Aspect was like a purple miasma in Killian’s mana sense. Killian was begging everyone to calm down in his mind, but the group of bronze adventurers were overpowering in presence. Killian almost wished he had used the Aspect of the Archmage on his charm attribute. The situation was falling apart quickly. Killian felt himself fall away from the hallway, as though he were looking at it from above.

Do something, Killian thought desperately. It might take only one word to calm them down.

It might take one word to set them off.

Killian seemed to float, watching the ball of light that Pyre provided dim. He needed to put mana into the phoenix, so he did. The light dimmed a moment, and new fears rose in the throats of the now terrified adventurers.

“No, we’ve still got 15 minutes or so before my mana will die.” Killian couldn’t say these words, though he desperately wished to.

Killian was the least experienced member of the entire guild. It was not his place to try to control the others. All he could do was keep his senses flared, sweat forming from the exertion, and hope that this cursed hallway would just go away. The mana in the area was ancient and rancid, all shadows and death.

This was a mistake. I’m not ready for this.

Like a vision from Genara herself, Pyre took his mental anguish and softened it. With a blanket of warm hope, she showered Killian through their mental connection. Breathe, she commanded with calm emotion.

Then, she shared her plan.