Chapter 4 – Everdark

The landing of the fourth floor was well decorated, with a large, ragged red carpet, a few leather chairs that had holes, rips, and tears, and a stand-alone bar with glass bottles filled with various fluids. None of the labels were legible, but I absolutely could have used a shot of just about any liquor at this point.

“Figures, the last floor is nice.” I sat down in one of the chairs and just breathed for a few minutes.

Trepidation snuck its way into my chest, in the form of mild anxiety. My heart fluttered at the thought of taking over this dungeon and calling it my own.

Though, based on the way this floor opened, I had no idea how I was going to complete the Secondary Objective for the quest.

Do not worry yourself overmuch about your colleagues. There will be opportunity when you arrive. The Dungeon Lord’s voice pushed into my mind, uninvited.

“You’ve got to stop doing this.” I said, irritated.

Then come, I await your keeping of your threatening intent. The voice called from within, and without, and everywhere at once.

It made my head hurt, now that I was so close to its source.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, the urge to annihilate the Dungeon Lord rising within me.

Oh, Grimm, you know what I desire of you. The Dungeon Lord said, then laughed as I felt its presence pull away from my mind.

“I’m going to kill you so hard.” I clenched my fist.

The Dungeon wasn’t going to clear itself. I needed to get moving.

The only exit from the room was on the far side: A small, wooden door that looked barely large enough for me to walk through.

There were windows cut in the top, elegantly bordered and well crafted, but the area beyond was simply black.

I approached the door, reached for the handle, and pulled the door open.

A wash of darkness spilled out of the door, flooding the room. I pushed against the flow of liquid darkness, trying to keep from being bowled over by it, but I couldn’t stay standing.

The liquid knocked me over and I twisted about, rolling in the flood. I flipped several times, my head spinning from the change of equilibrium.

Everything was darkness, the room disappeared under the flood of purest black.

I tried to shout, to scream, to fight, but nothing happened. I couldn’t even see my own hands, body, or anything, it was so dark.

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was standing in an elongated room, the end of which I couldn’t see.

It went on into darkness, though I could see the light of torches dancing in the darkness.

The nausea from rolling around in the dark liquid caught up to me and I vomited on the floor, spattering the cold stone ground with flecks of black, and chunks of the meal I had eaten before leaving my apartments.

After collecting myself, wiping the vomit from my face with the back of my robe sleeve, and getting my head sorted out, I took a closer look around the room.

It was a prison. There were hard iron cell doors set into the walls at regular intervals, with stone walls set between.

Torches blazed where the walls met the cell doors, washing the impossibly long table that sat in the middle with harsh orange light.

Benches ran alongside the table on either side, while broken plates, mouldered food, tarnished silver and drinkware, and long burned-out candelabra decorated the table the stretched out into the darkness beyond.

“What in the Underneath!?” I whispered, taking the entire view in.

Then I realized there were sounds coming from the distance: moaning, groaning, crying, hushed whispers, mad laughter, screaming.

“No, yes, no!” A voice shouted to my right, followed by cackling.

I looked into the cell and saw a human, though small and diminutive, slamming his broken and bloodied head against the wall of his cell.

With every hit, I could hear the wet thwack of flesh and blood.

His eyes looked crazed and they darted around the space in front of him as though he were watching something horrible play out over and over again.

Do you like my torture room? The Dungeon Lord asked, the voice now less like rose thorns and more like a dagger being jabbed into the base of my neck repeatedly.

“This is horrible. I mean, I condone torture, but this? This is insanity.” I shook my head violently.

This is only the beginning. Please, continue on. The Dungeon Lord’s presence, now firmly entrenched inside my head, placed a sickly green marker at the far end of the room.

It bounced in my vision, waiting, daring me to approach.

As I walked, more and more people were insanely ranting, crying, screaming or performing acts on themselves that would cause severe harm.

One person I walked by had a long sword in his hand, and continuously cut his own arm off. Every time it would fall to the ground, he would pick it back up, the flesh would stitch itself back together, and he would cut it off again.

I averted my eyes, looking at the floor as I walked past the cells.

I was almost to the marker that the Dungeon Lord had placed for me when my robe was snatched by an outstretched hand.

“Grimm! Oh thank the Dead, Grimm!” A familiar female voice was attached to the arm, though her face was hidden in the darkness of the cell.

“Who are you?” I asked, pulling my robe away from her hand.

“It’s me, you idiot.” Cinza’s face appeared behind the cell door, dessicated from the Siphoning.

“What are you doing down here?” I raised an eyebrow and took a quick step back. I didn’t want to be caught in a trap of some kind.

“I don’t know, I remember us fighting, then you somehow overwhelming me and winning the fight.” Cinza said, her voice aged, like dust against the wind.

“I killed you, and I crushed your AMHUD. How are you here?” I checked her communication status on my AMHUD. It showed a bright red “X” next to her name, denoting her AMHUD status was disconnected.

“You what!?” She yelled, fire in her black eyes.

“I figured it was the only way to keep you from killing dozens of others.” I said, looking away from her.

“That’s…” She started, trying to visibly calm herself. “That’s not important. Listen, you have to get me out of here. I don’t know how I’m trapped here, but I am. And I only have a few minutes left on a countdown that, if it reaches zero, I don’t know what will happen.” Cinza looked at me, pleading in her dead eyes.

“I can’t get you out, I don’t have the key.” I said, dumbly, looking at the lock on the cell door.

“You’re a fucking Wizard.” Cinza snapped, then calmly said “I know you can figure it out.”

Release her, fight her again, it was so much fun to watch you slaughter her the first time. The Dungeon Lord cackled in my head.

“I won’t.” I said, looking at the stone floor.

“You won’t, what?” Cinza asked, anger on her decayed face.

“I won’t kill you again, or let you die here.” I took a piece of metal from my pocket, a scriving tool, and carved a small Rune of Fire into the side of the lock, then imbued it with some of my Mana.

>>>

Runic Magic: Incinerate

Using Runic Magic, a power known to all Guild-Educated Wizards, a Wizard can inscribe a series of Runes onto a surface and impart various elemental effects. This particular Rune creates an area of intense heat, localized at the center of the Rune.

Spell Category: Runic Magic

Spell Class: Tier I

Spell Inscription Cost: None

Spell Inscription Tool: Dark Iron Scriver

Activation Cost: 15 MP

Area: Central Rune Size, up to 1 Meter

Inscription Time: 6 Seconds

>>>

The Rune flared to life, and the lock melted from the side, spraying me with sparks and molten metal.

“Shit!” I flicked the molten flecks of metal off of my hands, then ripped the melted lock off of the cell door.

“Thank you.” Cinza sighed, stepping out of the cell and collapsing into my arms.

“You going to be okay?” I asked, still not sure she wouldn’t immediately try to kill me.

“Yeah, can I have my robe back, though?” She held onto me, breathing heavily.

“Yeah, no. Can’t have you trying to kill me again.” I shook my head.

“I’m not. I just don’t really want to be naked.” She looked down at herself, and I realized I had, in fact, left her naked where I dumped her body.

“Don’t you wear smallclothes?” I helped her stand, then handed her the robe I had looted from her.

“No, I prefer to go Commando.” She said before she slipped into the robe she had been wearing beforehand.

“Better?” I asked, handing her the Leather Spaulder I had replaced with the chain one.

She equipped it quickly, fastening the buckle onto her shoulder and under her armpit.

“You dumped my armor too? You obnoxious shit. After all I did for you.” She said, a grim smile on her face. “Nice work.”

“Never leave an opponent capable of stabbing you in the back.” I nodded to her, and she nodded back.

“I told you that knowledge would save your life one day. So, what’s the plan?” Cinza asked, drinking a potion I handed her.

“I’m going to kill the Dungeon Lord, take over this Dungeon, and make the Guild pay for what it’s done to us.” I balled my fist, then released it.

“What’s this ‘us’ you speak of, Grimm?” Cinza started off toward the far end of the room and I quickly followed behind.

“Are you not pissed about the things the Guild requires of us? Murder en masse, annihilation of entire cities? I mean, I enjoy the EXP and the pay, but the slaughter of innocents isn’t my thing.” I shrugged.

“Nah, I enjoy that. And they’re not innocents, Grimm. They’re Hero Worshippers. The worst of the worst. How many Heroes have you had to deal with? I’m pretty sure the answer is none.” Cinza said.

“Wait, do you smell something?” I gave the air a quick sniff and got a whiff of burning.

“Probably just the acrid smoke from the lock you scorched.” Cinza explained.

“No, it’s bigger. Wood smoke. And, brimstone?” I turned around and wished I hadn’t.

Behind us, a slow-moving wall of magma was consuming the table, benches, stone walls, and everything it touched.

“You’re shitting me.” Cinza said, turning her walk into a run.

“Nope, time to go.” I turned and sprinted down the cell hall, watching dozens of hands reaching out, listening to the horrific screams of people being burned alive.

“This Dungeon Lord is a horror.” I said while running.

“Yeah, I’m not this bad.” Cinza replied.

After a moment or two of running, we reached a doorway that was blocked by a large altar.

On the altar sat a horned goat head, mouldered and decaying.

The smell was horrid.

Flying insects darted in and out of its eye sockets, its nose, and various hollows of decay that were all over its skin.

“I hate this place.” I said, turning back to the wall of magma which was approaching more quickly now.

“You know Water Magic, try to cool it off.” Cinza suggested. “I’ll see if I can figure out the mechanism of this altar.”

I raised a hand and snapped my fingers, hoping that a Cantrip-level spell would be enough to at least slow the encroaching death.

“Hydros.” I said, triggering the Verbal requirement of the Cantrip.

>>>

Spell: Hydros

Pulling the humidity from the surrounding air, Hydros allows a Wizard to form a bolt of water and fire it off with considerable force. The Wizard’s will changes the shape of the bolt, and a trickle of Mana is required to maintain its shape until it reaches its target.

Spell Category: Water Magic

Spell Class: Cantrip

Spell Cost: 30 MP + 1 MP per second until target is reached

Casting Time: Instant

Range: 100 Feet

Effect: Deals 35 Water Damage to a single target

Effect 2: Hydromorphosis

Hydromorphosis: The shape of the Water Bolt alters the effectiveness of it, which may increase armor penetration, direct damage, splash damage, blunt damage, piercing damage, and etc.

You know, if there was no wind resistance, rain would just punch right through everything we ever built. It would just drive straight through your body, too, about ten feet into the ground. ~ Professor Eric Jones, Physicologist

>>>

The bolt of water responded to my will, and I formed it into a sheet, spreading it as thin as I dared, to try to maximize its impact against the magma.

I launched it, feeling my will extend and watching my Mana slowly drain as it careened through the air.

It slammed into the wall of magma, creating a gout of steam and, for a moment, I saw the magma begin to cool and harden.

However, it was quickly replaced with new, molten stone. It continued to approach.

“How’s it coming?” I asked behind me, listening to Cinza grunting.

“Shut up.” She snapped back.

I fired off several more Water Bolts, performing to same technique, hoping to stem the flow. Eventually, I had to cool off enough to get it to stop, right?

After about a dozen Water Bolts, with little effect, I switched to a more potent approach.

I pulled from memory the gestures needed to cast Rain and went through them with my hands.

Water Magic was always more interesting to cast, because it involved flowing strokes and motions, as opposed to harsh, broad movements.

My hands and arms went to work, the magic coming together in front of me in the form of a Runic circle.

I brought the tips of all of my fingers together to finish the spell, then slapped my palms together.

“Rain from above, grant us life.” I said, speaking the Verbal component.

The casting was finished, and the Runic circle in front of me flashed, then vanished, appearing in front of the cascading wall of magma.

>>>

Spell: Rain

Calling upon the powers of the Air, the Wizard’s might extends into the Aether, capable of creating storm clouds and forcing them to pour out their water on a targeted area. The greater the area, the higher the Mana cost.

Spell Category: Water

Spell Class: Tier I

Spell Cost: 245 MP (+10% per additional Square Foot of area)

Casting Time: 15 Seconds

Range: 100 Feet

Effect: Pours a torrent of rain on a targeted area, dealing 5-10 Water Damage per second for the duration of the rain storm.

Effect 2: Areal Flooding

Areal Flooding: Water Runoff from Rain can cause collateral damage to surrounding areas as a result of its intense soaking.

Rain Rain, Go Away, I Don’t Want to Die Today. ~Children’s Nursery Rhyme

>>>

I had turned the spell so that it was blast the wall of magma with a direct torrent.

The cloud appeared from the Aether, followed by the typical sounds of thunder rolling, a few lightning strikes, and then the rain.

It washed from the cloud like a wall of water, pouring hundreds of gallons of rain onto the wall of magma.

The room quickly filled with steam, which caused me to start coughing.

I hadn’t expected that result, though knowing how water and fire react, I should have known better.

The steam began to heat up considerably, and I could feel it starting to burn my skin.

“What in the Underneath are you doing!?” Cinza shouted over the sounds of the rain.

“Trying to save our asses. What about you?” I yelled back between coughing fits.

A notification splashed across my vision as I fell to my knees, holding my throat.

>>>

Debuffs Added

Steam Burns: You have sustained external injury from burning steam, dealing 2 water damage per second until you are clear of the steam. Duration: Indefinite

Choking: Water has entered your lungs as a result of your exposure to hypercondensate, causing you to gasp, choke, cough, and have a difficult time breathing. Your Stamina Regeneration rate is reduced by 15% for the duration. Duration: Indefinite

>>>

Well, that was a problem.

“I got it.” Cinza yelled between coughs of her own.

A grinding sound, like stone shifting against stone, overpowered the sound of the rain and the steam plumes.

I turned and saw that the altar was sinking into the ground beneath it, exposing the door.

“Great, let’s go.” I said, struggling to get through the door, coughing the entire time, my health dropping rapidly by the second.

Cinza, of course, seemed unfazed aside from periodic coughing.

We make it through the door, slam it behind us, and the raging sound of water, the intense heat from the steam and magma, and the painful, yet awakening, pain on my skin disappated slowly.

“Did that not even bother you?” I asked, checking my exposed skin for sores, of which there were plenty. Blisters everywhere, I swear to the Gods.

“What, the heat? Or your incredible lack of capacity to stop an active volcano from consuming us alive?” Cinza chuckled.

“Yes?” I asked, shaking me head and catching my breath.

“It was fine. I just had to eat the Goat brain. Very gross, not pleasant. Will not do it again.” She said, wiping what I now realized was decaying Goat Brain from her mouth.

“That is absolutely horrific. What did it taste like?” My morbid curiosity would not let me let this go.

“You ever eat expired Moo Juice chunks?” Cinza asked, raising an eyebrow. “Kinda like that.”

“Ugh.” I said, almost gagging. Sure, I was a Dark Wizard, akin to annihilating things with magic, destroying entire villages of people, but even I had limits.

“Basically.” Cinza said, nodding toward the door on the other side of the tiny room we had found ourselves in. “Ready?”

If the rest of this Dungeon floor was anything like what I had already experienced, no, I was not ready.

Everything in here was absolutely insane.