bro

by eliasdejonge1

fffff

9. 9

Chapter Thirty-Eight As they entered the third floor, the group was met by another high ceiling.

Kerry and Felicia wrapped their arms around their ribs and let out tiny relieved gasps when no staircase of bruises could be found. Trent saw what they had missed and frowned, readying himself to summon his sword.

No Safe Zone! Hadn't Kerry and Felicia said that all floors in permanent Trials started with a Safe Zone? However, no enemies rushed to meet them as they stepped into the first chamber, and no Traps released arrows or pitfalls. It wasn't a comforting thought because, as far as Trent could see, there was nothing on the third floor at all. No Beasts, no tunnels, no obstacles or doors, just stone walls extending upwards to a height he couldn't judge even using Far Sight.

The Ability leveled up while Trent used it to scan for caves or breaks in the wall, but the minor increase it provided didn't bring any answers. Trent rubbed at his left bicep and canceled Far Sight. Climbing the walls that rose to where his vision couldn't reach seemed like the only way forward, and that made phantom cramps break out in his muscles.

Gradually Felicia and Kerry recognized what Trent had spotted, causing Kerry to ask, "Is this it? Do you think the Dungeon is still growing and the third floor hasn't been finished yet?"

"Not how it works. We're missing something, is all." Felicia began casting Light Spells, sending glowing orbs soaring to the limit that she could control them. "There has to be a way, or there wouldn't have been a tunnel leading from the Guardian chamber!"

"Maybe we're supposed to use a drop." Kerry snapped his fingers. "How about it, Trent? Think you can dig through the wall with your spoon?"

"Where, though? It all looks the same." Trent began walking around the square room, running his hands along the wall.

"It was a joke, Trent! You can't break stone with a wooden spoon." Kerry rolled his eyes and joined the others in tapping at the walls looking for a secret door or compartment.

Dreq sniffed along the bottom while the taller party members swept higher. Kerry struck with the butt of his flail, and Felicia explored with the fingertips of both hands, spreading out a sheet of Mana to examine for minute

cracks. It was a slow process. There was a lot of wall to search. Trent was

starting to think he should climb higher and leave the area reachable from the floor to the others when his fingers touched on a rectangular hole. Not much more than an inch wide and less than an inch tall, the opening could have been a natural break in the stone. Kneeling for a closer look, Trent was able to confirm the hole didn't appear special. It was really, only big enough for a finger or…

Trent's snort brought Felicia and Kerry running. "Find something?" Kerry bent down and looked over Trent's shoulder.

"A hole? What do you think it's… seriously Trent, I was joking." Trent pushed the wooden spoon in as deep as it would go. When the bowl

hit the back of the opening, there was just enough handle sticking out that Trent could grip it with his fingers. He pushed and rocked it, and when nothing happened, he tried turning it. To Kerry's dismay, the wooden implement twisted around and produced an audible click that was followed by the sound of stone falling to the ground behind them.

Trent refrained from looking to see the source of the noise. He drew out the spoon with exaggerated care and polished it against his chest. Tucking it into his belt pouch, Trent made sure the treasure was secure and said, "All drops are provided for a reason."

Kerry leaned his forearm on the wall and pressed his face into the inside of his elbow, muttering to himself, "He'll never stop now. He'll make me pick up every rock and piece of trash we find. I'll spend the rest of my life on my knees, picking through crap that sells for a copper a dozen."

Kerry was left muttering to himself while Trent and Felicia moved to where a new hole had opened up in the wall. The hole contained three iron rods, each with a symbol engraved on the side. The first resembled a wand like the one Felicia used. The center rod held a picture of a sword, and the third a flail.

Trent ran curious fingers over the engraving of the sword. The rod extended into the stone and he was unable to draw it out. It did shift some when he pulled it towards himself. Felicia slapped his hand away when he started to tug at it.

"We don't know what the levers do. Let me study them before you start yanking randomly," she scolded, pushing Trent away from the hole. Trent rubbed at his hand, reluctantly stepping back to give the Mage room.

Kerry, wandering over to join them, peered over Felicia's shoulder. "Think we have to pull them in a pattern?"

"I don't know." Felicia brushed her fingers across the levers, cautiously casting Evaluation. "They could be here to mislead us. Why don't you two look around and see if you can find anything else?"

"Have you heard of puzzles appearing in this Dungeon before?" Kerry bumped against Felicia's shoulder as he ignored her suggestion and leaned closer, squinting at the lever with the flail engraving. His hand fell unconsciously onto his weapon.

"No, it's strictly a combat… move back, would you? And use a Cleaning Charm, you reek of sweat!" Felicia twisted her neck to glare at him, wrinkling her nose as Kerry pushed in closer.

Trent left the two to their arguing. He walked away and began to look for an area he could scale. He made three circuits of the chamber before giving it up. The walls were smooth as glass. There were no protrusions for him to grasp or ledges to leap to. Other than the levers, there was nothing to be found.

"Dreq, come here!" The Dog, who had been sitting in the center of the room, tracking Trent's movements, came quickly at the command. Trent started to pick him up and then stopped. Dreq had grown. Standing almost as high as Trent's knee, the pup wouldn't fit in a pouch anymore. Trent altered his plan.

"Stay close," he told the Dog. "I'm going to pull on a lever and see what happens."

"What if what happens is that boiling oil drops on us from above?" Felicia stood in front of the revealed hole, her arms spread to block Trent's access.

"Then we'll know that's the wrong thing to do," Trent answered. "We're getting nowhere this way."

"There's three of us and three levers," Kerry said uneasily. "Each has a symbol that could represent one of us. I vote we pull them at the same time."

Seeing the two united in their insane decision, Felicia's shoulders slumped, her arms flopping to her sides.

"Fine!" She huffed. "When this gets us killed…" "You can say I told you so in the afterlife." Kerry reached out and took

hold of the flail-marked lever. "On three?" Trent and Felicia took up their positions. Trent's hand was steady on the

sword lever, and if Felicia's trembled as she closed her fingers on her lever, no one commented on it. Kerry began counting down, and the Mage closed her eyes tight. When Kerry shouted "go" in an unnecessarily loud voice, Felicia jerked hard on the iron rod, hunching instinctively to avoid the trouble she knew was coming.

Nothing happened. No rumbling or splashing assaulted their ears. No arrows shot out from the walls to pierce their flesh. The three levers moved a few inches and stopped without so much as clicking. Felicia opened her eyes slowly and let out a breath.

"Maybe it is a dead end." Looking over her shoulder, she could not see any changes in the walls around them. The knot in her stomach started to loosen, and she let go of her lever to wipe a sweaty palm on her robe.

"We could always go farm the Ants on the last floor," Kerry suggested, prying his fingers loose. "They've probably started respawning by now."

Trent eased his lever back into place but didn't let go of it. He looked down at Dreq, and when the Dog nodded back at him, Trent pulled the sword-marked lever again. Felicia let out a startled gasp and started to speak. Whatever she had to say was covered by the clamor of a thousand pounds of rock crashing down.

The floor shook, nearly throwing the party to the ground. Kerry and Felicia covered their heads and turned to run for the exit, sure the unseen ceiling was collapsing. With every step, they expected the hammer of falling stone to crush them. They reached the sheltering arch of the tunnel leading back to the second floor and kept running. The light orbs Felicia had placed remained where she left them, and it was only when they were far beyond the area the Spells could reach that the pair came to a stop.

"I told you so," Felicia shouted angrily, summoning a new orb so that she could properly scream at Kerry. "I knew it was a bad idea."

"We aren't dead," Kerry panted. "The deal was that you could say 'I told you so,' only if it killed us."

"And you!" Felicia spun in a circle, looking to direct her fury at Trent. "What were you thinking? Why would… where is he?"

Trent and Dreq were nowhere to be seen. "You don't think…" Kerry couldn't finish the thought. The image of

Trent being mashed under a fallen boulder filled his mind. "Weren't they right behind us?"

"He's faster than either of us. He should have been in the lead." It could

have been the spell-light, but Kerry thought Felicia's face was paler than usual as she stared back the way they had come.

No masked swordsman or black and white Dog appeared, no matter how hard the pair of Adventurers strained their eyes. Felicia laid a hand on Kerry's forearm, and Kerry covered it with his own hand, giving the Mages slender fingers a comforting squeeze.

"He's fine." It took Kerry a couple of tries to get that out, his mouth was dry, and his voice broke when he tried to speak. "He has to be. We made it out. What we can do, Trent can do."

They leaned against each other as they took shuffling steps forward. Conversation was cut off; they were too busy listening for Dreq's bark or the sound of Trent's voice to speak. When a sound did reach them, it wasn't an annoyed voice or the pattering of paws they heard, but the rhythmic smashing of metal on stone that caused frowns to crease their faces, banishing anguish.

Felicia and Kerry, their foreheads furrowed, raced back the way they had come. Stepping back into the open chamber, they released the hold they had on each other's arms. Hands went to their hips at the same time as identical disapproving glowers widened their nostrils.

Not much had changed in the chamber. Instead of the cascade of falling rock they expected to find littering the floor, a solitary slab of stone, about six feet high and four wide had fallen away from the wall. Where the slab once stood, dark grey stone streaked with red deposits was revealed, and standing on the slab was Trent.

He stood with his back to them, feet planted on the slab, swinging a pickax. Grey stone broke away as he hit it, and judging from the pile on the ground, Trent had been working at it the whole time they had been worried about him. He didn't seem to notice the eyes burning behind him. He was concentrating hard on directing the point of his pick to the cracks on the stone, maximizing the effect of his swings.

Dreq looked up from where he lay with head on his paws to acknowledge the return of the panicked Adventurers. He yawned and settled back down, his ears twitching as more rock crumbled away from the wall.

"What do you think you're doing?" Felicia called angrily, stomping her way across the chamber, her hands still on her hips.

Trent paused mid-swing. He looked over his shoulder at the fuming Mage, then at the pick in his hands before replying, "Mining. This is an iron ore deposit."

Felicia's hands flopped helplessly at the casualness of Trent's tone. "We thought you were dead, you know!"

"Oh," Trent began striking the stone again, "Why?" "Because… why didn't… don't you know…" A hand fell on Felicia's

shoulder, and looking back at Kerry, she finally managed to complete a thought. "Am I being unreasonable? Are we the crazy ones here?"

Kerry shook his head and led the Mage to the far wall, settling her down and pressing a canteen into her hands. "Might as well rest. I'll keep watch first. We will probably be here a while."

It was a longer rest than Kerry expected. Although he had never mined in

the Dungeon before, both Kerry and Felicia agreed that mineral deposits never provided more than fifty pounds of ore. Even the unskilled hands of an Adventurer without the Miner's Profession could deplete a deposit in an hour or two.

By the time the third hour had passed, Trent had created a tunnel a dozen feet deep, which was wide and tall enough that he could keep hacking away. During the first hour, he had stopped occasionally to sweep the ore into his Storage. At some point, he had learned to collect the rock by tapping it with his feet, and the second hour he worked almost uninterrupted.

"You don't think that he is tunneling to the next floor, do you?" Kerry gnawed on a hunk of dried meat, biting off a piece and taking a swallow of water to soften the hard lump.

"I want to say no. That would be ridiculous." Multicolored light orbs, which chased each other through the air at Felicia's command, wobbled and dropped a few feet as she lost focus. "No one would explore past the second floor if they had to dig their way down."

"No one except Trent." Kerry watched as the orbs rose back up and the red ball overtook the blue in the race around the chamber. He silently began rooting for the green orb currently in last place. He started to pull out a copper to wager on the green to win, hoping monetary support would provide the luck the twinkling light needed. He pushed the coin back into his satchel before Felicia could notice and point out how foolish it was to bet with the

Mage controlling the outcome of the race.

"What does that say about us then? We're still here," Kerry said to cover his lapse in judgement.

"It says you are desperate." Felicia flicked her wrist and sent her orbs flying at Kerry to take the edge from her words. Kerry ducked his head and swatted at the glowing balls that zoomed by him before continuing their route.

"You're desperate," Felicia repeated. "And maybe I am too."

"What do you have to be desperate about?" Kerry pushed against Felicia's wand hand to see if it would give his green underdog a chance and stuck out his tongue when the light fell further behind. "You're popular and talented! It's a tossup whether you or Holly were the top Mage student before, but now that you have a couple of attack Spells, you win. No contest."

"Don't you dare compare me to that sadistic woman!" Felicia's Spell burst apart as Kerry's comment broke her concentration. Kerry noted that the green ball was the last to fade and called it a victory for his team.

"Mages like Holly are half the reason I don't like attack Spells in the first place!" Felicia's wand wove through the air as she recast her Spell and set the lights to dancing again.

"So, why are you desperate?" Kerry took great pains to not ask what composed the other half of her reasoning.

"Ask me again when we're out of here. Out of Bellrise," Felicia said after a long moment of silence. "If he lets us go with him, I'll tell you both."

"Think he'll want to go to Al'drossford after this? Or will we clear the other Dungeons first? Slyhill and Riverside are supposed to be easier than Bellrise." Kerry nodded his head as Felicia confirmed that she was as interested in working with Trent in the future as he was.

Felicia murmured noncommittally, her nose twitching like she was repressing a sneeze. Kerry let the subject drop, content to watch the light show and wait quietly.

Professions could be leveled like Classes, and although funneling XP into

Miner would increase the speed at which he could hack into the stone wall, Trent opted not to. The Profession gained experience automatically as he completed tasks his Status assigned him. Hours of beating on the wall with a pickaxe while collecting ore with his feet, had made Trent a Level 3 Miner and earned him 4 more Points for his Strength Attribute.

He would have to watch that. He would end up like Kerry if he kept increasing his Strength without balancing his Agility. Though it might have been his imagination, Trent thought he could already feel himself getting stiffer, heavier, especially through the shoulders. That could also be a result of constant physical activity, though. He had dug a tunnel over ten feet deep and was starting to feel the strain.

A chunk of ore fell to the ground as Trent slammed and pulled with his pick. Before it could settle on the ground, his foot tapped it, and it went into Storage. It had taken a lot of concentration to do this at first; he was used to using his hands, but now Trent hardly noticed the effort of sending his Mana down unfamiliar routes.

Trent set his pickaxe down and stretched as much as he could in the confines of his created tunnel. He wanted to make the path wider and taller at first. However, he had settled for forward progress as he went deeper with no sign of the ore deposit fizzling out. He already had enough ore to complete fifty Guild Quests, and now he only wanted to see if this was the way to the next floor or not.

Dreq darted between Trent's legs to seize a small red stone in his mouth. The Dog carried it back to a pile he had made and looked toward Trent to receive the approving nod his action earned. Trent graciously bestowed the head bob Dreq wanted. Red and green stones showed up from time to time amongst the rubble and Dreq, knowing Trent liked to keep pretty things in his

belt pouches, had given himself the task of separating the rocks that Appraisal called gems.

Looking at the pile Dreq stood guard over, Trent thought some of the shiny bits would have to go in Storage. Either that or he would have to craft a few more pouches since the gems would not all fit in those that currently cluttered his belt.

"What do you think they're for?" Trent left his pick and went to sit beside Dreq. Picking up a ruby, he turned it over, admiring its rough beauty. Appraisal didn't tell him much about the gem, which meant it had little value, or it was beyond his Skills Level to examine. He had thought to ask Felicia, but she would probably tell him it was as wasteful to pick up rubies and emeralds as it was to keep spoons and scraps of cloth.

"Pretty," Dreq offered to Trent's question, sniffing the gem.

"It is," Trent agreed, tucking the ruby into his pouch as a good luck charm before putting the rest of the gems into Storage. "It's not enough to keep mining, though. I don't think we're clearing the Trial this time. This deposit could go for miles for all we know."

"Give up?" Dreq sounded disapproving. His ears folded over as he lowered himself into a crouch. He was quickly back on his feet, his paws slapping on Trent's leg as he excitedly asked, "Hunt Ants?"

Seeing Trent fail to complete a Trial was disappointing, but Dreq was all for abandoning the noise and dust that accompanied mining for a chance to show how good he had gotten at fighting insect Beasts. Beasts had bits that could be eaten, which made them superior to iron and gems in the Dog's eyes.

"We should probably go back to Bellrise." Trent brushed his hand along Dreq's coat, stirring up a flurry of loose dirt. "We'll make better time when Kerry can level up, and he won't until his bond…his contract? Charter! Is broken."

Dreq wilted under this announcement, then reared up to place his paws in

Trent's chest. "Leave Kerry! No need! Weak!"

"You and I were weak once." Trent gave Dreq a light push, which sent the Dog rolling and, using the wall behind him, pulled himself up. "You still are."

Dreq whined, standing back up and shaking vigorously. He did not try to refute Trent's statement however much he wanted to but trotted behind Trent with his head held low as Trent went to reclaim his pickax.

Picking up the tool and looking over the tip that was already showing signs of wear, Trent let out a low chuckle. "So am I. Too weak to go any further as I am."

That Dreq wouldn't stand for. He would suffer in silence as Trent's attention was stolen away by others. Dreq could accept that he wasn't as helpful as he could be, but under no circumstances would he allow criticism of Trent.

"Trent good! Strong!"

"Not strong enough." Trent tapped the wall with his pick as he shook his head. "Not as strong as stone."

A tiny sliver of rock broke loose under Trent's tap and pinged off the floor. Watching it fall, Trent whispered that he was making the right decision. This Trial was too weird. Kerry had said that only one delve in a hundred turned up equipment. Felicia said Return Scrolls were as rare, and gold was unheard of. By any standards, this trip was a success.

So why did Trent feel that he was letting someone down? It wasn't as if this Trial was meant to be cleared by a four-man team in one go. His own Status had said he could leave at any time. Leaving alive was the best possible outcome of any delve. Why was he finding it so hard to turn around and walk away?

And why were cracks spiraling out from where he had tapped the wall?

It had been the lightest of hits. The sliver that had fallen was already an unexpected amount of damage. The cracks that spiraled and then split formed a spider web design radiating from the small scar. That was too much! The wall collapsed before Trent could step back. Chunks of stone bounced off his boots and narrowly avoided hitting Dreq.

Dreq did not seem to mind. He sneezed as dust tickled his nose and staring into the room that suddenly opened in front of him, he felt content. Another sneeze rocked his body before Dreq was able to say, "Trent strong!"

Chapter Thirty-Nine "Trent is strong… is," Trent stressed the word, gently correcting Dreq's

grammar. The Dog was beginning to pick up on the intricacies of spoken language. Stringing together two and sometimes three words was an impressive feat for an animal that shouldn't be capable of speaking at all. And if one judged Dreq purely by his ability to convey intent, he was a genius. That didn't make the short sentences less annoying, though.

"Don't rush ahead!" Trent pushed Dreq back with one foot as he stored his pick and summoned his sword. "This isn't right. We're being played with."

Dreq settled back on his haunches, his head tilting to the side. He tested the air with his nose. The smell of dust was overpowering, preventing him from discovering what was causing Trent to tense up. "Danger?"

"Go and get the others," Trent responded, stepping through the roughhewn hole that had opened up. He kept his gaze forward as his empty left hand felt the edges of the stone wall. "Be fast; there's something out there!"

Dreq sprinted away without another word, barking to alert the resting Kerry and Felicia, all the while wishing he was allowed to speak to them. Trent took another step forward into a chamber that was identical to the first in nearly all respects. He might have imagined he had tunneled in a circle if not for the boulder that sat in the center of the open space.

The boulder, a rich shade of brown and twice Trent's height, begged to be examined. Other than its size, it was unassuming, just a giant version of the many rocks Trent had seen before. Roundish and fairly symmetrical, smooth, almost polished, Trent could think of a dozen ways to describe the object, and the word "danger" wasn't one of them. The stone was not threatening. It was still and silent, as harmless as a hunk of earth could be.

So why did the passive effects of Identify scream at Trent that he was

standing before a Beast? Why did he feel he was trapped at the bottom of a cliff while the rock teetered above him, capable of falling at any moment?

Trent sidestepped around the edges of the room. He didn't activate Identify to confirm the boulder's state. As comforting as it would have been to confirm that the rock was just a rock, Trent felt any Skill usage on his part would bring a result he wasn't ready for. It was a lesson he had learned in the Moonlit Forest. Beasts could sense the intangible as much as Adventurers could.

"You found something? Dreq is going nuts, trying to get Felicia on her feet. I hope whatever comes next is more interesting than watching you pound rock."

Of course, Beasts could also hear. Kerry squeezed his way into the chamber, his pauldrons scraping on the edges of the hole. He held a ball of spell-light in his hand and waved it about to get a look at what he was stepping into.

"Big rock! Think the exit's underneath it? I'm not much good at mining, but I can probably bust it up if you'll lend me your pickaxe," Kerry announced cheerfully as he saw the room's only occupant. He really did hope the boulder was regular stone. The long rest had instilled a need to move in the young Warrior, and he was ready to demonstrate that his heavy investments in Strength had a purpose.

The boulder moved before Trent could wave at Kerry to shut up. A head unfolded, and a long horn dug a furrow in the hard ground. Kerry gulped as the Beast, that was certainly not a boulder, regarded him with eyes that would have been beady in a smaller creature. Above the eyes, the Beast's head curved up and forward, adding to its already formidable height. Thick legs and a ponderous body gave Trent the impression that the oddly shaped Beetle's movements would be cumbersome.

The glow of a Skill being employed dashed Trent's hopes, and he screamed for Kerry to move as the Beast lowered its horn and charged. Kerry didn't need to be prodded; he was running to the side before the Beast took a step forward. Had he been a second slower, it would have been too late.

Kerry felt the breeze of the Beast on the back of his neck as it brushed by

inches away. The crash of stone shattering as the Beast slammed into the wall behind him had gruesome images of the smudge he would have become had he stayed still racing through Kerry's mind. He pumped his legs faster, his fingers scrabbling for his flail.

Hearing a chink behind him, Kerry looked back. The Beast's feet had pounded the ground when it charged; the clinking noise was unlikely to be caused by such heavy feet. The sight of Trent's legs confirmed Kerry's assumption. On the other side of the Beast, whose horn was lodged in the tunnel Kerry had come through, Trent was visible from the waist down as he slashed at the creature for all he was worth.

Thinking the Beetle was stuck, Kerry spun around. With flail in hand, Kerry channeled Mana and created a chain for his weapon before rushing back to aid Trent. The iron ball of his flail came down hard on the Beast's side. Stepping back and thinking of how Trent had fought the Ant Queen, Kerry directed the next blow at the creature's legs.

Splinters of the Beast's shell broke off under Kerry's hits, but the results were less than outstanding.

"It's tough, but we can whittle it down as long as its stuck!" Kerry called confidently. "How's it going over there?"

Trent licked his lips and backed away, staring at the unmarked shell of the giant creature. He had used his best Skills, putting every ounce of strength he could muster into his strikes. There wasn't so much as a chip to show for his efforts. The two feet of steel on his hands was the most suitable weapon for him, but obviously, it wasn't what was required to fight this creature.

"Not good," he called back to Kerry in a raspy voice. "And it's not stuck! Stay clear until we know how fast it moves."

Kerry thought Trent was joking, and he nearly guffawed as he continued to flail away. Sure, that Charge Skill had him sweating, and the Beetle's horn wasn't lodged as deeply into the tunnel as he thought, but there was no need

for Trent to sound so concerned. The Beetle was heaving itself backward with clumsy legs ill-suited to fast movement, slowly backing away from the wall.

It was only quick when it charged, and a Skill like that couldn't be used often. The energy needed to propel the Beast's weight had to be staggering. Now that they knew what to watch for, Kerry felt his fear dwindling. Unless the Beetle had other Skills…

Kerry lifted his arm to swing and paused as that thought hit him. There were two scenarios that occurred to him, and neither made him feel like laughing. One, the Beetle had a variety of Skills and didn't depend on the charge for attacking. That would be bad.

The second scenario made his mouth pucker and his ass clench. If Charge was the Beetle's only Skill, it could be used freely as soon as it was in position without worrying about Stamina. With time to rest between each attack, any energy spent would be recovered while it readied itself.

This should have been the preferable option, but Kerry had hit the creature fifteen times and, other than a minuscule crack, had little to show for it. His own Stamina would run out before he could breach the Beetle's shell. A concave shaped head swung in his direction, and Kerry backpedaled to create space.

"I don't suppose you've opened a devastating wound on your side, have you?" Kerry croaked. The Beetle began wobbling on stiff legs, quicker than Kerry liked to see, bringing its horn in line with the Warrior's body.

"Haven't scratched it," Trent called back. "We need to find a weak point."

"And if there isn't one?" Kerry wanted to close his eyes while he waited for the answer. The Beetle's presence and hateful black eyes kept his own open.

"We run," Trent replied. "Try to stay close to the exit if you can."

Kerry was glad to hear the word run was in Trent's vocabulary. The fact that the command to retreat immediately wasn't forthcoming was a little disappointing, but he could stomach that for now. The light from the orb in his left hand reflected off the brown horn of the Beetle, and the thought that he wouldn't stomach anything once that dull hunk of shell pierced him had Kerry eyeing the exit tunnel wistfully.

Kerry stepped to the left and then the right. The Beetle's horn stayed locked on him as its legs began to glow again. When it came, it was just as fast as the first time, and Kerry had less room to dodge. He swore he felt a vibration in the backplate of his armor as the Beast rushed by, and he reached into his satchel as he ran. He grasped the Return Scroll there and pulled it out to comfort himself.

"That won't do you any good." Felicia sent several spell-lights to cling to the wall as she stepped out with Dreq at her heels. Letting loose with a Firebolt, the Mage clicked her tongue as the Spell left a charred spot on the Beetle's shell without penetrating the creature's defenses.

"Return Scrolls won't work in a Guardian chamber as long as the Guardian is alive." She cast Grace on Kerry to bolster his Agility. The tip of her wand flickered, and an answering light covered Kerry as the Spell settled over him.

"Can't be a boss. It's only the second room." The Beetle was turning to face him again, and Kerry's flail knocked against its legs. He tried to stay in its blind spot, shifting with the Beetle's sway, and received a crack to his chest from a rocking leg. It didn't hurt much but pushed him back far enough for the Beetle to find him with its narrow vision. Rather than closing again, Kerry ran back to prepare for the charge he knew was coming.

Felicia didn't argue with Kerry's assertion that the Beatle wasn't a Guardian. She could see it, and so could Kerry, even if he did not want to admit it. Creatures this durable, not to mention huge, didn't show up except at the end of a floor. It might be early, but there was no doubt what they were facing.

She started to prepare another Firebolt. The Spell was half cast when she

let it fizzle. Her hands were trembling again. They did that, shaking when she cast an Attack Spell. She tried to ignore it, told herself she could get past it. The shaking came less from a fear of destructive magic and more from the fate of a competent Mage in a place like the Al'verren Kingdom.

"I am competent!" She told herself. "With or without Firebolt!"

Trent had influenced her, breaking her from the pattern she had set for herself. Did that mean she had to think like the Swordsman? She knew more Spells than any other student in the Academy. Why wasn't she using them?

The Chant for Firebolt fell away from her lips and was replaced with Reveal Weakness. It was her second-best Spell. She hadn't cast it during this delve before because it wasn't necessary. Trent had a way of creating weakness in the Beasts he fought. Throwing the Spell for the first time, her face lit up at the chance to show Trent there was more to magic than killing.

The results of Reveal Weakness froze her face in a mockery of a grin. Her upper lip lifted as the Beetle's bane, ice, was transmitted to her. Any tier-one Ice Spell would make the Guardian's shell brittle. A Mage with the right repertoire could reduce this Beetle to frozen bug chunks with a few waves of her wand.

"Soft spot at its rear," Felicia relayed the other findings of her Spell, keeping the curses she directed at herself internal. "Ice is the best way to hurt it."

"I think everyone has a soft spot on their rear." With Grace to increase his Agility. Kerry was finding it easier to stay on the Beast's side. His flail still refused to do more than tap the creature's shell, but his breathing was easy, and he had put the Return Scroll away. "Sadly, I left my ice in my other pants. What about you, Trent?"

Where Trent had left his ice would remain a mystery. While the Beetle stomped towards Kerry, Trent slipped up behind it and used Triple Slash to attack its bulbous hindquarters. The three strokes from his green blade left white scars behind, which was promising, but only a small section of shell, no more than a hands width, oozed what Trent hoped was blood.

Any creature would react badly if you cut its soft bits. The Beetle's

reaction demonstrated that even enlarged insects were capable of speed. Kerry's eyes opened wide as the Guardian reared up on its hind legs, hissing. His eyes went wider as it pirouetted around as nimbly as a dancer to face Trent, who had been preparing to thrust into the unarmored section he had found.

The Beast came crashing down to squash Trent with indignant rage. Trent's legs locked in surprise as several tons of insect carapace collapsed towards him. If he had moved immediately, Trent might have had time to dart to the side. His hesitation left him with only one option.

Throwing himself flat, Trent sucked in his stomach in a useless attempt to make himself smaller. A useless and unnecessary attempt. The belly of the Beast was several feet away from him when its legs touched the ground. Trent thrust upwards with his sword, and the blade's flat tip skittered along the Beetle's exoskeleton.

Then Trent was too busy rolling and dodging, while the Beetle pranced from side to side in another stunning display of speed, attempting to do with its feet what its body had failed to accomplish.

"Hold on!" Kerry whirled his flail and charged towards the Beetle's unguarded back. "I'll get its attention."

Kerry swung for the Guardian's leg, thinking that his hit, combined with the Beast's erratic motion, might do more damage. Unfortunately, Kerry had just learned Basic Flail and could hardly be considered a master of blunt weapons. His stroke missed, and the ball of his weapon plunged home in the wound Trent had opened.

The half slurping, half plopping sound of Kerry's weapon inserting itself into the insect's body was covered by the Beast's screaming hiss. Kerry tugged his weapon free. Before he could swing the flail again, the Beast was already standing upright. Knowing what to expect, Kerry wasted no time in getting clear.

With the Beetle's attention back on Kerry, Trent pushed himself to his feet. The fight with the Dire Bear came back to him as he observed Kerry tangling with the Guardian. This Beast was hardly comparable, but the fight was the same. Trent and Kerry could batter the armored insect for days without bringing it down.

The Beast's weakness was ice, which they did not have. Poison might work, but his supply of Terah's Mercy had been used up. A fresh batch was growing. It would be ready in a week, which might be a viable solution given how the battle seemed to be going. What did that leave?

Blood dripped from the wound Trent had opened and Kerry had enlarged. Ice was the creature's weakness. Could fire still be a viable weapon? Its outer shell might shrug off Felicia's Spell but what about its interior? Trent dismissed his sword, and as the blade became a ring on his finger again, he cast Spiritual Flame.

The Charm was a strange one. Too strong for lighting campfires and too weak to serve as a weapon unless you were facing the Undead. Too weak under normal circumstances. Fire Manipulation changed the Charm from a shapeless plume into a three-foot pole. Not long enough. Trent forced more Mana into the Spell, increasing its length, bolstering its heat.

Trent was running dangerously low on Mana before he was satisfied. The pole had become a six-foot-long spear. Trent chugged a vial of Mana restorative as he moved in closer to the Beetle. Tossing the empty bottle aside, he took hold of his spear with both hands and matched his movements to the Beast's swaying. His eyes locked on his target, and Trent made a move.

Three feet of flaming spear sunk into the backside of the insect. It was a foot deeper than Trent could manage with his sword, which still was not enough. Trent yanked his spear loose. The Guardian's hiss took on a shrieking tone. It stamped and rocked as heat filled and then exited its body, leaving charred tissue in its wake.

Trent did not wait for the creature to turn on him. He had learned the Thrust Skill with a sword, but there was no restriction saying it had to be

used with a blade. Any weapon with a point would do.

Under increased force supplied by the Skill, Trent's charmed weapon sank until only inches were left protruding from the Beetle. Trent let go of the shaft after locking the Spell with a burst of Mana so that it would continue to burn. His legs tensed as he prepared himself to react to the creature's counter- attack.

"Dreq! When it rears, hit it with howl!" Trent shouted, hoping that Dreq was in a position to follow his command.

Dreq had been slinking around the edge of the room, staying in Trent's shadow, waiting for his chance to get involved. His ears perked and he readied his Skill at Trent's instruction. However, the Dog's chance never came.

The creature didn't rear in response to Trent's assault. It scuttled, quicker than before, attempting to spin and crush Trent, all the while sending out ear- stinging wails. Trent's knees bent, and he threw himself upwards with Enhanced Jump. He soared over the Guardian, avoiding its trampling feet. He didn't celebrate his successful dodge for long.

The once ponderous but now quick-stepping Beetle tracked the flying Swordsman, and when he began his descent, Trent found the Beetle's horn directly below him. From this angle ,the horn looked sharper. Sharp enough to split steel, and more than sharp enough to skewer a falling Al'rashian.

Later, Kerry would claim the wild swing that brought the ball of his flail in contact with the butt of Trent's spear was intentional. He would say it was a perfectly calculated and timed strike. He wasn't believed, but that was what he insisted happened.

Whatever the truth was, the spear was driven home another inch, and the Guardian lurched forward. Trent slid along the curve of its horn and came to a stop on its flat face, the heel of his boots pressing into the Beetle's eyes.

The Guardian had no neck to speak of, though that didn't stop it from trying to buck its head to dislodge the pest that had nested on its face. Trent

grabbed hold of its shell and hung on, his feet kicking, further enraging the aggravated insect. There wasn't much else he could do. Being flung off would mean a hard introduction to the ground, and his hands were full, leaving him nothing to hold his sword with.

The Beetle rampaged. Felicia retreated to the tunnel, and Dreq joined her after a close call when he discovered the Beetle's shell reflected his howl. Kerry chased after the Guardian, swinging for its weak spot and hitting it with one blow out of every six.

Trent's hands were starting to lose their grip when the Guardian finally collapsed. It would take another minute before he realized the motion he felt was all in his head, and his unwilling mount had given up. He tumbled off the Beetle's head and staggered towards the wall as the room swirled around him.

With a hand on the stone to steady himself, Trent settled to the ground. He held his head in his hands as the others joined him.

"What did we learn from this?" Kerry asked when he found the breath to speak normally.

"I need a spear." Trent's voice was muffled by his hands as he answered in all seriousness. "A long, heavy spear. Big Beasts are…. troublesome."

"I should learn a larger variety of spells," Felicia chipped in ruefully. "I wasn't much help… again."

Dreq, obeying the rule that Dogs should be seen and not heard speaking common, said nothing. All eyes turned to Kerry.

"I was great out there!" Kerry pulled off his helm and leaned back, placing his fingers behind his head. "You all should be grateful I'm here."

Trent had almost finished Harvesting the Guardian and the party was collecting their loot before anyone would speak to Kerry again.

Chapter Forty Archery Level 10 (max)

Archery has become Basic Archery Level 1 Skill Triple Shot Level 1 learned

Trent lowered his short bow as three arrows with steel heads took the life of the winged horror flying above him. The fourth floor had been one long hall. Spiders and Beetles had come in waves, always from the front. The insects were problematic, but the Bats, half the size of a man with flat scrunched faces and protruding fangs, challenged them the most.

The Bat's sonic attacks left the Adventurers dizzy and at the mercy of the Trial's ground forces. The Bats also came from both directions at odd intervals. Several times Kerry and Dreq had been forced to fight the insects on their own while Trent and Felicia picked the Bats out of the air with Spells and arrows.

Trent stored his short bow and took the longer battle bow from where it hung on his shoulder. He had alternated between the two weapons for the Fourth floor. The practice of using the short bow as long as his Mana held out and switching to the recurve bow, which had its own Mana supply when his was low, paid off. He had learned the last Skill the short bow had to offer and pushed his Archery into the Basic rank.

Like he had found with the spear, it was all about movement. A common- ranked Skill leveled quickly when you combined the simple with the intricate. His accuracy had increased with practice, but it was learning to shoot and move from various positions that had pushed Archery to the next rank.

There was no need for Trent to join the mopping-up effort going on in front of him. Felicia burned the webs that the Spider threw to ensnare the group. Dreq's Paralyzing Howl kept the Beasts from sweeping over the top of the three, and Kerry's flail was a constant whirl of bug smashing metal. At some point during the fourth floor, the team had become a cohesive unit, working together to achieve what they couldn't alone.

For Trent, it was a bittersweet thing to see. It was exciting to work with the others. It was good to see Kerry and Felicia fighting above their Levels with only minimal complaints. Trent enjoyed having people to converse with.

He did not want it to end. He would be happiest if the long tunnel stretched on forever, and they could stay like this, watching out for one another and growing.

It would end, though, and soon. The glow of a Safe Zone lay ahead, not forty feet from where he stood. The light only he could see promised a place where they could let down their guard and relax completely. It should have been a welcome sight. If they had been at the beginning of the fourth floor, it would have been.

The rewards were two Return Scrolls and a gold piece from each Guardian on the previous floors. Those floors had also held rewards that were far more than they deserved around every corner. Rewards only Trent could reach: An iron deposit, ore he needed to complete Guild Quests, that only opened when you pulled a sword-marked lever. A path he alone could dig. The signs were all there.

Those signs had disappeared on the fourth floor. Trial Beasts had gone back to dropping two or three coppers. There were no secret rooms or obstacles. The Trial had given all it meant to. It was time to pay the price.

Trent set to work cleaning the corpses his friends had left behind. Wings from Beetles and Bats, silk and legs from Spiders, they all went into Storage. He picked up the drops, admiring the unique pieces like spools of thread and a doll with a painted face while carelessly collecting the bits that the others would find valuable.

Kerry's flail cracked against the stone floor as he drove the ball through his last opponent. The bug he had struck vanished, leaving behind a handful of coppers. Kerry looked around with a guilty expression. He had destroyed the Harvestable parts with that strike. Trent wouldn't like that. He might not say anything, but his disapproval would hang in the air like a bad smell if he noticed.

"That's the last of them," Kerry said, clearing his throat and bending down to pick up the coins that were evidence of his overly aggressive blow. "How long till the next wave do you think?"

"No more waves." Trent made no mention of the three copper coins that

were dropped into Kerry's satchel as he walked by. "We've reached a Safe Zone."

"That can't be right," Kerry started to argue. "Safe Zones only show up at the start of a…"

There was a feel to a Safe Zone. It was a calming effect that dulled exhaustion and eased pain. There was no mistaking it. It poured over you, soothing like a balm on a wound. You might not notice it at the beginning of a Trial, but as time went on, as your strength and energy flagged, stepping into a Safe Zone was a warm blanket that wrapped around you.

"This shouldn't be here," Felicia said, echoing Kerry's thoughts as they both entered the sheltering space.

Trent glanced at her. The Mage's voice was tired, her robes torn in several places. Kerry was much the same. His breastplate was intact, but no other piece of his armor was spared the scars of battle. Self-Clean had removed the blood that had stained their clothing, though you could still smell it if you tried. They had gone as far as they could, farther than they should have.

Most of the Health potions had been used, and they were out of Mana restorative except for one that Trent had stashed away for an emergency. A reasonable party would call it a day. They had what they came for. Trent wouldn't ask any more of them.

Calling Dreq over, Trent dropped a Wolf fang on the ground for the Dog to chew on. "Should we rest before we start back?"

"Is there any need for that? We have the Return Scrolls. The Guildhall isn't that far from the Dungeon; we could rest there." Felicia's eyes narrowed as she spoke. The Safe Zone wasn't large, just a few square yards. Trent stood at the far end in front of a door carved from stone to look like wood. The door was closed and out of place in the cave environment. A sword was embossed on its surface, and beneath the sword, a flail and wand were stamped. The symbols Trent took to represent Kerry and Felicia were recognizable despite the way they had been crossed out and scribbled over.

"She has a point, Trent," Kerry added. "You aren't going to make us walk back to the entrance, are you?"

"No, you can use the Scrolls." Trent's hand closed around a bronze- colored doorknob. He didn't look back and kept his body angled to shield his actions as he said, "Who has one handy?"

Their eyes left him as they instinctively looked to where they both had

Scrolls tucked away. It was the briefest of glances, but when they lifted their heads again, Trent had already pushed the door open and was stepping through.

"I'll be right back. I just want to have a look," he reassured them. Kerry started forward, clawing at his flail and bringing up his shield. Felicia was right behind him, and Dreq dropped his prize to surge towards the open doorway.

They were too late. The door swung closed with an ominous bang. Kerry reached for the doorknob and then jerked his hand back with a cry. The bronze doorknob melted and, instead of dropping to the floor, flowed outwards to seal the cracks between door and wall. They had been left behind with no way to follow.

Beyond the door, Trent paused. He leaned back on the stone wall. His ears worked to catch the sound of Dreq howling, of Kerry pounding on the door while Felicia shouted. He could picture them doing just that, although no sound drifted to his ears in confirmation.

He was making the right decision. He knew it! He just wished he could explain it to the others in a way they could understand. The Trials were more than resources to be exploited. They had their own wants and objectives. It was plain to Trent, although to Adventurers, who called the Trials, Dungeons, it would be nonsense.

His sword was in hand as he stepped into the Guardian's chamber alone. The chamber was circular, and jagged stalagmites grew from the cave floor. Trent's grip tightened as he imagined the spikes of stone coming to life like the Beetle Guardian on the previous floor.

He had run that battle through his mind a dozen times. It was an anomaly in what he thought the Trial was asking of him. His weapons and skills were inadequate for fighting such a Beast. Without Kerry and Felicia, he might not have been able to beat it. If this Guardian was similar, he had made a serious mistake.

Trent's feet brought him to the center of the chamber. He adjusted his grip on his sword, his head turning from right to left. There was no movement from the stalagmites, and no Beast stepped from their shadows to pounce at him. He looked up.

Eyes and legs descended towards him. Trent threw himself into a roll to avoid the tan Spider that dropped from above. The Guardian chirped an incongruous war cry at him as Trent found his feet and turned to face it. The

arachnid's front legs pierced towards him like spears. Trent slashed to parry one and spun to avoid a second that curved, seeking to wrap around him and draw him closer to the creature's maw.

Trent thought of the black ring that hung on Kerry's finger as his left hand drew Strife, and he flung himself forward to attack. He should have found some excuse to reclaim his shield from the Warrior. His sword felt like an extension on his arm, and while the Clever Hands Skill made the grip he had on his weapons secure, there was still a disconnected feel between him and the knife in his left hand. A shield would have firmed his defenses considerably.

The razor-sharp tip of the Spider's leg ripped through the leather covering his right shoulder, splitting the flesh beneath, and Trent twisted to avoid a follow-up stab. He lunged for the Beast's eyes and was forced to hastily step back, swiping desperately to block the venom the Guardian spit at him.

Dodge and Dash had been activated before the fight even began, but Trent was at the edge of abilities blocking the Beast's attacks. Fortunately, the Spider was only able to thrust with its front two legs. Had all eight legs been brought into play, Trent would have had no way to resist.

Trent was forced back until he was pressed up against a stalagmite. A leg stabbed towards his face, and Trent jerked his head to the side. Splinters of stone struck the back of his cowl as the Spider's appendage sunk into the natural column. A second leg cut towards his injured shoulder, and Trent made no move to block it.

Accepting a second cut in exchange for the freedom to move, Trent surged towards the Guardian. He cut at the Spider's gruesome face, his blade clanging on fangs, and then leaped upwards. He landed on the Guardian's back and slashed for all he was worth. The bright red that spurted from the open wound caused Trent to shout out with excitement. The lingering fear that he would be incapable of damaging the Beast, the fear that the last Guardian had instilled in him, vanished.

Trent's sword cut two more furrows into the Spider's back as the creature whirled beneath him. While not as deep as he would like to see, Trent was at least glad to pay the Beast back for his own wounds. The Spider's blood flew into the air, splattering on his armor and mixing with his own to run down his arm.

He felt the Spider's body tremble beneath him. Trent could see the end of the fight approaching. Then he could see the stone floor beneath him. The

Beast had vanished, and he was falling. Arm raised to hack at the tan hide of the Beast, Trent landed badly, his legs collapsing under him as he struck the floor. His knees ached as he pushed himself upright, his head twisting from side to side.

The Guardian was nowhere to be seen. Trent's gaze shot upwards, and the ceiling stared back at him, blank and empty. The blood trickling down his arm called for him to drink a Health potion. Trent ignored it. He would have to sheath a weapon to heal himself, and the Guardian was not finished.

His eyes were drawn to a stalagmite twenty feet to his right. Trent looked in time to see the Spider launch itself off the stone spire, spitting venom. He dodged the spray and lashed out, scoring a glancing blow to the Spider's belly as it passed overhead. A string of silk trailed from the creature's rear as it landed on a second stalagmite and scurried out of sight.

Trent, focused on his own attack, did not notice the web until it had already wrapped around his hand, coating the blade of Strife. The silk was nearly invisible, and Trent's first clue that the Spider had a second mode of attack came when he was wrenched off his feet. With his arm outstretched in front of him, Trent was dragged along the ground towards the unseen, waiting Spider.

Strife was trapped in his hand. Trent returned his sword to ring form and slapped at the ground, searching for anything to hold on to. The ground was smooth to the touch and the stalagmites were out of reach. Twisting around, Trent tried to brace himself with his feet. He activated Steady Footing when his boots failed to gain traction. The Skill slowed him somewhat, but the Spider's pull continued.

A surge of Mana brought his sword back out. He slashed at the silk that held him as the Guardian reappeared. His blade bounced off the thread without breaking it as the Spider reeled him in, closer and closer to biting fangs and stabbing legs.

Trent struggled to his feet, using the Spider's own pulling motion to aid him. Leaning back, he hacked at the string again as his feet slid along the floor. The Spider chirped mockingly at him, raising its front legs in unison, preparing to attack. Trent was almost within its reach. His shoulders sagged as he stopped resisting, his sword tip dropping to the ground.

Embracing his forward momentum, he rushed ahead, plunging his sword into the Spider's mouth, rolling over its head and back onto its body. He left his blade behind and drew Sorrow. Bloodletting caused the blade of the knife

to glow as he stabbed wildly into any bit of the Spider he could reach. Eyes, or body, it made no difference.

His sprint forward created slack in the line that bound him, and Trent maneuvered his way onto the Spider's flat, hairy body. When the pulling on his left arm began again, Trent plunged Sorrow as deeply into the Guardian as he possibly could. He did not fight the tugging; each jerk carved a longer groove into the Guardian, and Trent was content to allow the Beast to continue injuring itself.

Even with his concentration set on maintaining a hold on Sorrow, Trent managed to notice the tremble in the Spider's body. This time he recognized it for what it was. Not the sign of victory that he had thought, but the Beast preparing to use a Skill. A Skill that would drop him to the floor and put the Spider in a position to ambush him again. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the fall. He refused to be caught off guard this time by the Skill or the Beast's subsequent assault.

Trent's stomach lurched and his vision swam as space folded around him. A moment of darkness and then the Spider was stepping through a void; its Skill taking it to a dark corner of the room. It was probably as surprised as Trent was when its foe came along for the ride.

Trent looked at the silk that was wrapped around his hand. Presumably, the other end was still attached to the Spider. Was that the reason he was able to travel with the Beast, because they were connected? There was some slack on the line again, and Trent took advantage of the Guardian's bewilderment to scramble further up onto its back before sinking Sorrow back in to anchor himself.

The Spider skittered and chirped as it spun in place, trying to dislodge its passenger. This motion only caused Sorrow to tear more. As Trent grimly held on, the Spider stopped. The Beast's wounds bled freely. Trent's had already clotted. It was just a matter of time before the Guardian bled out. Not exactly a glorious victory, but Trent would take it.

However, the Guardian was not so willing to accept its fate. The tiny hairs that covered its body stood up straight, then exploded into the air, creating a cloud of tan particles around the creature. The hair drifted down, falling on the gaps in Trent's armor and settling in. When the hair came in contact with his skin, his wounds burned and itched. Trent's eyes watered, and his nose clogged with snot as the hair was drawn beneath his mask by his own breathing, and that breathing became very painful as his lungs started to

tighten and contract. There would be no waiting for the Guardian to die. Trent struggled to

draw air into his burdened lungs, and the hair that landed on his wounded shoulder reopened the cuts there. He released his hold on Sorrow and tried to summon his sword, forgetting in his panic that he had left the blade stuck in the Beast's mouth.

He opened Storage and searched through it until he found an Elwire blade. His eyes swelling shut, Trent took the wooden sword out, holding it awkwardly as he came to his feet.

Settling the tip of the blade into the groove that Sorrow had cut, Trent fell forward to push the sword as deeply into the Spider as it would go. With one arm stretched towards the Spider's head and his sight dimming, falling was the best he could do.

Two feet of the wooden sword plunged into the Guardian's back. Trent held on gamely as the Beast rocked and spun beneath him. The Elwire sword, crafted by amateur hands, was not the best weapon for handling giant arachnids, but no one would be happy to have two feet of wood jammed into their body. Trent threw his torso back and forth; the Spider's whirling widened the hole in the creature's back and pushing the sword further in.

The sword was buried up to the hilt, and Trent was sprawled in a pool of blood and hair, when life finally left the Guardian. Dazed, blind, and choking, it took Trent several minutes to realize he had won. Flipping on to his back, Trent fumbled at his belt until he found his water skin. He pushed up his mask and poured water onto his face, spluttering as the lukewarm liquid washed his eyes clean.

His vision was still blurry but partially restored. Sitting up, Trent hacked and coughed atop the corpse of the Spider, trying to clear his lungs. It was ten minutes before he could draw a full breath. The exploding hair was a dirty trick with long-lasting effects that Trent wished he could learn.

He turned his attention to his left hand, the hand that was still wrapped in spider silk. Felicia had used Firebolt to burn the webs of lesser Beasts. He would probably need her to free his hand and…

It was a low point in Trent's life as he cast Spark, the first Charm he had ever learned, and channeled it into the blade of Strife. He increased the heat of the rudimentary Spell and watched as the webbing around his knife charred and smoked. His hand was free in moments.

Gathering up his weapons, Trent eased his way off the Spider. His skin

itched and tingled where the Beast's hair had found its way into his clothing. Self-Clean was no help, and Trent began removing his armor to wash the affected areas with his waterskin.

A Healing potion sealed the wounds on his shoulder. Trent poked at the new skin, grimacing. The cut was gone, but there was a lingering pain, the feeling of a deep bruise. Minor Healing potions were not as helpful for Trent as they once were.

He dressed slowly. He was in no hurry to Harvest the Spider or rejoin his friends. Felicia would mostly likely yell at him. He was a little surprised that she wasn't already here.

He glanced towards the sealed entrance to the chamber and shook out his armor to dislodge any hair that might remain. The Guardian was dead, wasn't it? Shouldn't the door be opening? The Trial was supposed to have five floors. Was the Keeper separating him from the others until the Trial was clear?

There was no passage to the next floor; the Trial at Bellrise only had four. Maybe he had to collect his loot first to reveal the exit. His gaze turned to the body of the Spider as he began to pull his armor back on. He wouldn't touch the thing until the self-repair function of the Witching Hour set finished closing the gaps the armor. Cutting into the Beast was sure to throw hair up, and Trent wanted a fully covered body when that happened.

"What are you waiting for? Get to work!" Although it seemed that while Trent wasn't in a hurry, there were some

who were.

Chapter Forty-One "I didn't think you were the lazy type! Who lounges in a Trial? I should

revive the Guardian. That would teach you to stay on your toes!" The voice, terse and tinny, came from above him. Trent's eyes widened

and he swallowed in surprise, but he kept his gaze ahead. There was a quality to the voice that suggested it was talking at him, rather than to him. The Keeper probably wasn't yet aware that Trent could hear it speaking, and Trent would like to keep it that way for now.

Not flinching or reacting in any way when a small white spider with red eyes, suspended by a thread of silk, drifted in front of his face was a testament to how much Trent did not want to engage with the Keeper. He had had enough of Spiders!

"Get to cutting already!" The Keeper complained. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? How many compromises I made to lead you here? Of course, you don't!" The Keeper dropped to the floor and scurried to stand in the corpse of its Guardian.

"It's been a century since I last met the conditions for growth! At the rate you're going, it will be another century before you get around to finishing your task. All my effort will be wasted if Fraktrilian wakes up and restores the standard settings! He is going to be extremely upset when he finds out what I've done, but it will all be worth it as long as you're done before he catches me!"

"What does that mean? What have you done?" Trent had to know what the Spider meant. His teeth clicked as he slammed his mouth shut and tried to stop the words from coming out, but it was too late.

The Keeper, who had been busily clambering around on the slain Spider, paused as it reached the joint of one long leg. "You can hear me… That makes things even more interesting! Great things will come from this, I know it. Fraktrilian won't chastise me when he sees the results!"

"Who is Fraktrilian?" Trent rolled the unfamiliar name off his tongue. "Don't say his name! You'll wake him up! You shouldn't even know his

name!" The white Spider, hardly bigger than a pebble to begin with, scrunched down in an attempt to make itself smaller. "He's going to be so mad."

"Why would… he… be mad?" Trent sidestepped using the forbidden name, his curiosity drawing him closer to the Keeper.

"So many reasons." It might have been his imagination, but Trent thought he saw the Keeper tremble. "Unsuitable obstacles, gold and equipment as rewards… that sword you've been using is enough to make him furious."

"But it will be worth it!" The Keeper continued, a gust of air carrying the Spider from its perch to hover in front of Trent. "You're unique! And my growth conditions are unfair! A solo clear of the fourth floor Guardian by an Adventurer under Level 20? Do you know how unlikely that is?"

Watching the Spider swirl and bob on unnatural air currents was making Trent dizzy. He held out his hand, and the Keeper landed on his palm. Once it settled there, he said, "I did it. It can't be that unusual."

"You are you," The Keeper said dismissively. "Most Adventurers who come here are timid little mice like your friends. I knew you were different before you stepped into the Moonlit Forest! That was frustrating to see, let me tell you! Imagine challenging that interloper's Trial before you even peeked into mine! Rude, really!"

The Keeper sounded hurt as it pointed at Trent with two pairs of legs. Trent cleared his throat and resisted the absurd urge to apologize. "You can tell what happens in other Trials?"

"Not all Trials, just those that are near my domain." One leg twirled in a circle as the Keeper corrected Trent. "We Keepers trade ideas and… you shouldn't know any of this! It borders on breaking the rules! Please, Harvest the Guardian before you get me into trouble!"

Trent suspected from what the Keeper had already said that it was too late to avoid trouble, for the Keeper at least. He set the Spider on his shoulder and drew his Harvesting knife. There had been a note of dread when the Keeper said trouble, and Trent wanted no part of whatever caused a Keeper to quiver with trepidation.

"Eyes, legs, venom sack, and silk. This isn't your first Spider! Do you really need to use Appraisal on each little part?"

Trent did not tell the impatient Keeper that previous Spiders had not had venom sacks or that their eyes were worthless. He kept his head down, cut silently, and bit his tongue. He left the eyes for last. The unpleasant sucking sound the organs made when they popped out always made him retch a bit.

His knife paused before digging out the eighth eye. A thought had occurred to him.

"I need to get a decent spear," he said offhandedly, tapping the tip of his knife between two empty sockets. "This fight would have been easier with a good spear. One seven or eight feet long."

"Then make one out of the legs! You have the Skills," The Keeper jumped down and ran circles around the leftover eye. "What are you waiting for?"

"I have Weapons Crafting," Trent acknowledged, moving his knife farther from the last cut, which would make the Guardian's corpse vanish. "I've learned recently that there are supplementary Skills and Spells that make Crafting more effective. Getting those would be as good as a spear."

"Yes, I suppose it would, but that's neither here nor…" With such a small Spider, it was hard to tell where its gaze was focused. The weight that settled on Trent's shoulders left no doubt in his mind that he had the Keeper's full attention. "Are you bargaining with me? And not for the first time. All that talk before, the threats to go back if you didn't find ore or moss… that wasn't said for the benefit of your friends. You know about Keepers. You were talking to me."

A mountain pressed down on Trent, and his legs shook as he fought to remain standing. The Keeper's thin voice was solemn, striking at Trent's eardrums with each word. "There are things you must not do. It's worse for you; you have knowledge you shouldn't. I can look past your quibbles for Quest materials. Their absence was my oversight. That being said, I am no merchant or trader. You accept what the Trial gives. There is no bargaining."

Trent was reminded of a sign he had seen in Agatha's shop in Al'drossford. That sign had very explicit instructions for what those who thought to haggle with the shop owner could go do. He would willingly follow those directions right now to avoid the quiet anger that pushed at him until he could feel his internal organs quaking.

"I understand," Trent whispered hoarsely, "It won't happen again." "Good!" The Keeper peeped cheerfully, tapping the final eyeball. "Let's

get this thing out of here then!" In his rush to obey, Trent's knife pierced the eye, ruining it and

splattering goo up his arm. The Keeper didn't care. Destroyed or removed was all the same. The corpse vanished, and the Guardian's loot pinged off the floor as they dropped in an all too literal fashion.

Trent's reward amounted to just a scrap of black cloth and two coins that were not even gold. One was silver and the other looked like an oversized

copper. There was no spear. Trent cast a slightly resentful look at the Keeper, who had dropped to the ground with the loot. He suspected he was being punished. He wisely kept his mouth shut as he reached for the scrap of cloth.

"Press it to your cowl!" The Keeper advised as it ran figure eight patterns around the coins. "It's an upgrade. Little stronger Defense, and the Self- Repair function. Also, a second form, a nice warm cloak which you'll appreciate soon. The cold months are almost here. Let's look at these coins, shall we?"

The cloth vanished when Trent touched it to his cowl. A thought changed the hood to a full-length cloak, which was a dusty gray color instead of the cowl's deep black. His mask remained. Trent was grateful for that. The hood's defense was alright, but it was Dark Vision that made the soul-bound equipment truly valuable. Trading that in exchange for a bit of warmth would have been a losing deal, especially since he had learned to use Fire Manipulation to keep away the chill.

"When you are done playing," the Keeper said irritably, "these coins are fascinating."

Trent did not think tossing his cloak over his shoulders, making sure it didn't get in the way of his weapons was playing. He didn't argue with the Keeper, though. Changing the cloak back into a cowl, he bent down and tapped the silver coin with a finger. It was money, the least exciting drop you could get. He wasted no time looking it over and sent it straight to Storage. He humored the Keeper by using his hand instead of his foot to collect it.

When he touched the oversized copper coin to do the same, Trent received a shock, literally. His Mana wrapped around the object like it always did when he stored an item, but instead of making the coin disappear, the magic recoiled like a living thing and raced back up his arm, leaving pins and needles in its wake.

Trent picked up the palm-sized copper disc that refused to be Stored. The disc felt less like a coin and more like, "A Guild Token? Is this a Quest item?"

The Keeper snorted derisively at his question, an unusual sound for a speck-sized Spider. "Not a horrible guess, I suppose. Guild Tokens were modeled after objects like that. I wonder what it's for?"

Trent didn't care for the tone in the Keeper's voice that indicated it knew exactly what the disc was for, and it wasn't going to tell him. The white Spider skittered to a nearby stalagmite and climbed halfway up. "Don't you

think this indentation is the same size as the disc? I'll bet there's a reason for that."

The spider climbed in circles, outlining a depression in the stone the same size as the Token Trent held. Wearily, Trent approached for a closer look. The image of a rat with a long tail lay at the center of the indentation. The picture carved into the stone had a similar looking style to the engravings on the levers from the previous floor.

Trent started to press the disc into the depression and almost dropped the copper piece when the Keeper shrieked. "Lots of Trials have Rats! Don't be in such a hurry! I wonder what you would find if you looked around?"

Clutching the disc in his hand, Trent stepped away from the stalagmite and followed the Keeper's vague advice. The Keeper floated behind his shoulder as Trent paced around the chamber. He alternated between wanting to swat at the Spider, whose presence pressed at him, and shivering at that very urge, which could only end with Trent being squashed.

There were twelve stalagmites and twelve depressions, each with a unique carving. A Rat, a Skeleton, and a Wolf were among the creatures Trent recognized. The Keeper identified others, such as the Goblin and the Lizard. Some were not even Beasts, but designs that represented types of Traps and puzzles. Trent knew he was supposed to pick one and had it been left up to him. he would have shoved the disc into any random hole to be done with the task. The Keeper's commentary was all that kept him from doing so.

"Two other Trials in the area have Goblins, very over-done don't you think…"

"Puzzles can be good. So many give up on them, though. There's a reason why combat Trials are the most sought after.

"Slyhill has lizards. Would you like to be compared to that hole in the ground? I know I wouldn't!

"Now this one… It would probably bring Adventurers from near and far. A completely unique Beast! A new challenge! Do you like new challenges, Trent Embra?"

After eleven disinterested and dismissive comments, Trent was compelled to take a closer look at the carving the Keeper approved of. The picture was almost crude. The face was blank, the lines of the body wavering and uncertain. The creature depicted wasn't comparable to the skill of an artist. Trent felt a loathing for the image deep in his bones, and though he wanted to

cover the carving, to hide it from sight, as much as he wanted to be finished, his fingers refused to press the disc home.

"What is it?" Trent whispered. A growl gathered at the back of his throat. He wanted to strike the Pillar, to destroy the image in front of him.

"I don't know." The Keeper sounded uncertain as it answered his question. "I should, but I don't. It is related to you somehow. Most of these choices are generic; they are available to all Trials. There is always one tailored for the person or group which meets the conditions. That's all I can say.

"Doesn't it sing to you?" The Keeper's voice was soft, tempting, drifting into Trent's ear like a lullaby. "A challenge just for you, one you won't find anywhere else. How can you resist?"

Because it doesn't belong! It shouldn't exist! The image taints the air and stone; what will the creature bring? These words pounded in his head and begged to be released, but only the growl that had been building in his chest came out.

An instant before the Token in his hand clicked into place, Trent thought he saw the image in the indentation flicker and morph into an even more oppressive figure. Then the hole was filled, and the copper disc flared with a crimson light.

The ground quaked beneath his boots. Adrenaline coursed through Trent's body, and the stone ruptured around him. Eleven stalagmites burst into dust and scattered, and the twelfth swelled and opened, revealing a staircase that spiraled downwards. Trent felt a force beckoning him, a force as soothing as a Safe Zone. So calming, Trent hardly noticed the fetid taste of mildew and rot that tainted the air or the film like mist that swirled around his feet, grasping at his ankles like the hands of the dead.

"This…" The Keeper at Trent's shoulder jerked and spun in midair, it's eight legs curled around its body. Briefly it grew in size, then shrunk again. The Keeper reached out a tiny limb to Trent, begging him to see what was happening. The leg shriveled, never coming near the shoulder it tried to touch.

In a daze, Trent stepped onto the stairs, his senses ringing. He never noticed the black space that opened beneath the Keeper. He never heard the Spider's screams as it was sucked into the rotating hole. He didn't even think to check if the entrance had reopened so that the others could join him. He was a man separated from reality as he strode into a darkness that called to

him. *

"How long has it been?" Kerry flicked a gold coin into the air and watched it tumble as he nudged Felicia's foot with his own.

"Since Trent left or since you last asked?" Felicia's return motion held a lot more kick than nudge, and Kerry dropped his coin as her pointed shoes connected with his ankle. "Not long enough for the second!"

"And for the first?" Kerry slapped at the gold piece before it could roll away. "How long does it take to solo the fourth Guardian?"

"How should I know? No one capable of it sticks around Bellrise to do it. It's a pointless act!" Felicia turned a page of the book she was studying with a little too much force and swore as it tore. "Damn fragile junk! Where did Trent get this from anyway? How does a Spell tomb get burnt like this!?"

"Don't know." Kerry scooted farther away from Felicia's vengeful feet before flicking his coin into the air again. "He's alright, isn't he?"

"He's alive," Felicia smoothed the torn and rumpled page as she replied in a soft tone. "As for alright?"

"You've got an awful lot of confidence in him," Kerry muttered. "Where does that come from?"

"If he were dead…" Felicia cleared her throat. She lowered her head closer to her book and tried to make her voice matter of fact as she continued, "We're still linked together in a party. We would know if he were…"

Felicia's head lifted and her eyes widened. She stared at the sealed Guardian chamber in disbelief. "He did it!"

"Did what?" Kerry stopped in the middle of a toss and followed Felicia's gaze to the door. "He beat it? How can you tell?"

"It's obvious. You don't pay attention at all." Felicia ducked her head again, a blush staining her cheeks.

Kerry scratched his jaw with the gold piece. "I don't see any changes. What do you see?"

Across the room, a pair of canine eyes glowered at the conversing pair. Dreq, like Felicia, had picked up on what Kerry had missed because like the Mage, he was studying his Status and had been since minutes after the chamber sealed itself. The sudden increase in XP was evidence that Trent had succeeded.

Dreq had never doubted that he would. Of course, Trent was going to win. The question was, why had he left Dreq behind? Leaving the human and

elf pair behind was fine, but Dreq didn't get in the way like they did. Trent should know how useful he could be! Dreq had even picked up the elusive Dexterity Attribute, a rare trait in Beasts, while battling the Spiders on this floor!

There had not been a chance to tell Trent because he had been told not to speak in front of the bumbling two-legged Adventurers. Had Trent known, would he have still left Dreq behind? He had a complete Status now; he could keep up!

Dreq stood stiffly and went to press his nose against the stone door. Trent's scent was long gone, but the cool earth smell was still better than listening to Kerry and Felicia bicker. Dreq whined softly. He was sure Trent was in trouble, while he was stuck back here.

Dreq clawed at the door futilely. It refused to open. He laid down; his Status still open. All he could do was watch his XP and send silent good wishes along the party link. Trent had to face whatever came alone. Dreq would bear witness in a limited fashion. It was all he could do.

Chapter Forty-Two Minor Permanent Trial has changed. Recommended Levels 1 through 25.

Keeper will be replaced or confirmed in 6 hours. A new floor will be open to all challengers after Keeper is

determined. Exits have been sealed until changes are complete.

5:59 5:58 5:57

The message and accompanying timer had forced their way into Trent's vision and broken him out of his fugue. He stood at the bottom of the winding staircase with no clear memory of climbing down. Dark water dripped from the ceiling, and a dirty mist swirled around his feet. Droplets and mist clung to him where they touched, prying at his armor and surrounding him with a cold helpless feeling.

Six hours until the exits opened. What did that mean for Trent? He had received no Quest to explore the fifth floor. The staircase behind him was not sealed. There was no reason not to go back to the empty Guardian chamber above and wait out whatever was happening.

The darkness was thicker on this floor. Like diving into the water, his vision was affected. He could see, but the shadows seemed tangible, closing around him. The dripping water made puddles that splashed as he stepped in them. That was the only evidence he had that he was moving. All else was surreal, dreamlike.

Trent reached under his mask and rubbed his eyes to make sure they were open. He changed his cowl to the cloak and pulled it around him, hoping the warm material would keep out the pervasive chill in the air. When it didn't, he returned to his cowl and brought out his sword. To some degree, the solid heft of the ugly weapon warded against the unnatural feel that was all around.

Not enough. Steel couldn't cut shadows. There were no weapons to banish the cloyingly sweet scent that hung in the air. The sword was a comfort, though. It was provided by the Trial; therefore, it should be primed for the Trial's challenges.

A drop of water ran down the wall. Trent watched it and saw the third floor Guardian in his mind. Like the droplet, unable to do more than slide down the wall, his sword hadn't scratched that Beetle. He was only fooling himself by pretending he was equipped for what lay ahead.

His feet disturbed the mist and slapped in the puddles as he continued forward. Trent could have walked silently, but the splashing of his footsteps was a defiant attempt to strike back against the weighted silence. He hoped it brought something he could fight.

The thought occurred to him, and he immediately regretted it when a figure appeared. Shaped like a man yet like no human Trent had ever met. Thinner and paler than any Undead he had encountered, more insubstantial than any Beast he had seen, the creature swayed from side to side, it's long arms swinging as it drifted forward.

Long, scraggly hair hung from its scalp but did not conceal its face. It was a face with a round mouth, full of teeth that opened and closed like the creature was chewing at the air itself. There were no eyes or nose set in the unbroken white skin that shone with an unhealthy glamour. Where the creature wasn't covered by scraps of black cloth, visible blue veins pulsed as if something was crawling through them.

Trent drew Sorrow, and the knife quivered in his hand as the creature stalked towards him. It was the very need to fling himself at the Beast that held Trent back. It could have been a Skill of the creature, one that made his blood boil—a war between the instinct to flee and the need to attack raged in him.

Trent blinked. A hand settled on his shoulder and tightened in an almost consoling way as if the creature understood his struggle and was offering solace. Six soft fingers, white worms connected to a slug of a palm, wrapped around his arm and then, with unbelievable strength, crushed it.

Trent screamed. The creature was too close for his sword. He lashed out with Sorrow. The creature was gone. Once again, he had not seen it move. There had been a time when this lapse in his awareness had been common. Cullen, Corporal Francis, and Orion were all capable of speed that he couldn't comprehend.

But that had been in the past. Increases in his Agility and Dexterity, along with Perception, had eliminated that weakness. Of course, there were still men and Beasts faster than him. That could only be fixed by time. However, Trent had fought Beasts stronger than he was and had not felt this

overpowered. A slap to his right shoulder that sent him stumbling forward, and numbed his arm, said Trent had become overconfident. There were things his senses couldn't detect.

Sorrow clattered to the ground as his hand spasmed. His right shoulder was nearly useless from the creature's first attack, and as Trent whirled, his sword tried to escape his grasp. He managed to hold on, but the blade refused to rise higher than his waist, and that was due to his wrist. The rest of his arm was useless.

With two attacks, the creature had crippled his arms and now faced him, its round mouth opened in a mocking approximation of a smile. It was in no rush to finish him off. It threw back its head, a gargling noise issuing from the back of its throat. Laughter. Cruel laughter, which held too much intelligence, too much true emotion for a normal Trial Beast.

Trent was unable to reach across his body to draw Strife. Under the sightless gaze of the creature, he pulled open the drawstrings of his belt pouches. He had filled the pouches with items in preparation for his fight with the Guardian. Darts fell from fingers clumsy with pain. Vials of Health potions clicked against the ground. More vials vanished into the mist, six of them. They cracked on the stone, the sound drawing more laughter from the creature.

Trent's boots kicked at the glass, stomping on them, crushing them underfoot as his fingers closed around one last vial and managed to hold on. He tried to lift his arm, to hurl the glass tube at the creature that came for him like a striking snake. His arm wouldn't rise. His fingers wouldn't unclench.

That soft, gentle hand, that bundle of unclean worms closed around his throat. Trent was lifted into the air by a strength the creature's atrophied limb had no right possessing. Unable to pry at the fingers, Trent slapped his left hand against his captor's shoulder, grimacing when the vial in his hand refused to break. Holding the glass with his thumb, Trent wrapped his fingers in the creature's rags. He tried to spit out the trigger to a Charm, but the Spell wouldn't come. His breath came in broken gasps, and the Beast squeezed rhythmically, interrupting the Charm's short chant.

"Die for me, Shadow Hunter," the creature demanded in a coarse, cackling voice.

"I'd…rather…" Trent wheezed, fighting to speak, using the words to focus his mind as darkness crowded the edge of his vision, "…rather… Burn!"

Flames shrouded his body as Trent activated Heart of the Inferno. He tightened his fist, and the vial of blue bile he had palmed burst against the creature's shoulders. Where the Beast held him, white fingers turned black. Where the bile soaked its shoulder, the alchemical reagent acted as an accelerant. Fire rushed for the creature's face, and with an unearthly howl, it dropped Trent and slapped at the flames threatening to consume it.

Trent landed amidst broken glass that crunched under his weight. The aura of Fire that surrounded him boiled away the Health potions. The scent of evaporated restorative cleared his throbbing head somewhat, an unintended consequence.

The white-hot flames spread across the ground and licked at the creature's body as more bile, collected from Swift Beetles, was ignited. That was intentional. However, Trent's improvised plan was more effective than he expected. A fresh scent of spice and flowers exploded as Trent's darts caught fire and the Elwire wood they had been made from demonstrated how it was meant to be used, to enhance and refine.

He had prepared the vials for the Spider Guardian, but that fight had gone too fast, and he had been trapped on the Beast's back. Now, inside a fire raging from an outside accelerant, Trent remembered one of Cullen's first lessons. Fire was unpredictable. It could be controlled, but it would always betray you if given a chance.

The creature reeled backward, screaming. Trent wanted to join it, as his fire resistance was overcome by the increasing heat, but he couldn't find his voice. His skin blistered and cracked. The pain from his burns was almost enough to make him forget himself.

But Trent had felt this before. He grabbed hold of his sanity. Not too tightly. What came next was not for the clear-minded. Heart of the Inferno would last for thirty seconds, and he had to make use of each one.

10 Points of Strength wasn't the surge of power it once was. It was less than a fourth of the Strength he already possessed, but it was enough for him to lift his arm, despite the crushing injury to his upper arm. It pushed him forward, contrary to the weeping of his legs. Trent snarled through the torture as he launched himself at the torch the creature had become.

Smoke seeped beneath his mask and tears ran from reddened eyes as Trent used the most barbaric techniques to hack and slice at his foe. The undulating cries of the Trial Beast were sure to bring others of its kind. Trent was beyond caring. Taking this one with him was enough. The others could

chew on his bones and choke on his skin as long as this one wasn't there to see it.

His sword rose and fell. The creature collapsed under his blows. Its screams continued, and so did Trent's assault. He had thirty seconds and he would make every one of them count. When Heart of the Inferno ran out, Trent would be finished.

His sword smashed against stone the same instant the fire around him died. A sudden, welcoming numbness and a complete lack of energy announced that his Skill had ended. Trent fell bonelessly. Without Stamina, and with his HP still draining, he was unable to catch himself even if his arms had been capable of supporting him. He flopped against the stone, his face kissing the inside of his mask as it rattled against the floor.

Trent tried to smile at the sound of metal on rock. It was a victory song. The creature had vanished along with the slowly dying flames as their fuel was consumed. Others would come, but the first was dead. He thought he could feel the items the Beast had dropped pressing into his stomach. That was probably an illusion. Had he been able to feel anything, he would be screaming.

It was a hollow victory. The timer counting down at the top, left corner of his vision read 5:51. Less than ten minutes had passed since he entered the fifth floor, and the Trial had started its changes. He had explored twenty feet and fought one enemy. Not a stellar performance.

And fought was a strong word to use for what he had done—stupid, useless actions without purpose, serving no cause. Cullen would call Trent's actions those of a hero. Heroes died. That was their fate.

Trent coughed weakly and tried to laugh. Cullen hid it in-between his jeering and yelling, but the truth was, the man trained heroes. Smart heroes, ones that tried to meet the standards the Sergeant set. Trent just hadn't made the cut. That was why he had been abandoned.

No! Trent managed to lift his neck and bash his head against the ground. He had left Al'drossford a wounded animal, a boy, alone and afraid, driven by remnants of magic he could not control. He could be more than that now. He recognized that he hadn't been abandoned; he had been forgotten. Not just by those close to him, but by the world.

He had seen it the moment the… Trent's hands wiggled as he tried to clench them. He didn't know what the terrifying Beast he had met outside of Bellrise was, but the second it had eaten the stone containing Fairy Cloak, the

world had gotten brighter. He had seen people as people again and not betrayers and tricksters. That was when he should have turned on his heels and gone back.

Trent tasted ash as he coughed, sighed, and coughed again. Well, he had learned. He was a good learner. This lesson had sunk in too late, but he had picked up on it, and there was no regret in him.

If he had gone back, Dreq would have died in the Moonlit Forest, and Martin Vane would be alive. The Dog deserved to live, and those that broke the Truce qualified for every torment that could be devised for them. Had he gone back, Trent wouldn't have met Kerry and the Warrior would have remained bound to a contract as harsh as the one that brought Trent into being.

He would never have met Felicia. Never learned about Beggar's Taunt or farmer's festivals. Small matters to most maybe, though not to Trent. The Trials brought wonders and opportunities, and he wished he could see more, but there was life outside of them. If he had a regret, it was that he hadn't found a favorite color or learned why Kerry thought he shouldn't wear pink. Those would be strange chains of doubt to wear. He wouldn't put them on now.

The Shadow Hunter has defeated a Cursed Foe. Conditions to active personal Title met.

Developing Personal Trial. Time suspended for challenger.

Prepare to enter Trial.

Chapter Forty-Three The road leading south from Al'drossford to Bellrise was never busy in

the latter part of the year. Farmers and their wagons were at home. The summer crops had already been harvested, and the fields were being prepped for those plants which could be cultivated in winter by those Farmers with a Level high enough to draw life from the frozen ground. New Awakened who wanted to study at the Bellrise Academy were already taking their entry courses, and more experienced Adventurers would be working other Dungeon towns.

This particular afternoon, one traveler had the road all to herself. The hooves of her steed pounded on the hard-packed dirt as Eliora Al'verren pushed it to greater speeds. Her silver hair and black cloak swept out behind her and a grin lit her face even as tears seeped from her eyes to fight the wind and wash away dust.

She had completed three minor Dungeons in the few weeks since coming to Al'drossford thanks to the pitch-black horse beneath her. The summoned Beast had little intelligence and no use in combat, but its speed and nimble legs made it ideal for traversing the well-kept roads. With three Dungeons behind her, discounting the major one at Al'drossford, which she was in no way ready for, only Bellrise was left.

Bellrise would also be where Eliora would have the most luck recruiting. She had kept her eyes open during her travels and met plenty of other Adventurers. All of them had been disappointing. Some would have served her purposes, but those who did already had parties to which they belonged. Parties and no ambition! They were content with small lives in safe lands. She could have joined them as a junior member, though none would join her.

Bellrise would be different. Graduates of the Academy would be looking for leadership. They wouldn't have fallen into the rut of farming a local Dungeon for a living and would be anxious to see what the world held. All Eliora would have to do is hold up her hand and they would flock to her.

The wind bit at her reddened cheeks as Eliora's brow furrowed into a frown at the sight of the city walls that were growing closer by the second. Pulling on the reins, she brought her mount to a halt half a mile from the gates. Dismounting with a graceful sweep of her leg, Eliora dismissed her

horse, and the Beast returned to the Summon Mark located beneath her leather armor on her right shoulder.

The Beast was useful and submissive, never questioning its master. Adventurers weren't so tame. Even uncertain rookies would require convincing. For her plan to succeed, to follow in her aunt's footsteps, she had to be confident, in control. That wasn't a problem in the capital. There, with a snap of her fingers, a hundred people would fall into line behind her. Here, the name Al'verren meant nothing, a fact she had enjoyed watching her brother discover. As an Adventurer, only your ability mattered.

Casting Self-Clean to banish the dust of her ride, Eliora pulled up her hood and concealed her face in its shadow. She stretched, rising up onto her toes and arching her back to limber her muscles. Her body loosened, and she let go of her doubts.

Technically, her plan resembled the actions of Lewis Al'dross more than those of her aunt. Baron Al'dross had recruited a band of companions and held his territory based on the strength of those who followed him. But there was one thing Lewis and his wife had in common.

Confidence! Confidence was what Eliora needed. The butterflies whose wings brushed at the lining of her stomach would be no help. As long as she was straightforward and honest, recruiting a handful of young Awakened was a given. Eliora was born to royalty. Leadership was in her blood.

Long legs covered the distance to Bellrise swiftly, and by the time Eliora was holding up her hand to greet one of the Guardsmen on duty, her doubts were long behind her. She smiled to herself as the young man standing at the gate returned her greeting. A professional look, polished armor, and a clean uniform lent the fresh-faced Guardsman an air of authority that his age did not.

When her city was founded, the Guardsmen would be like this. Al'dross soldiers never had the sullen looks or greedy eyes that were all too commonly seen in other territories. They took their duties seriously, and Eliora had yet to sniff out any corruption. Not to say it wasn't there, just that Lewis Al'dross cut it away when he found it. He did not foster conniving men like many nobles she had known.

She had been taught that selfish men were easier to control. However, Eliora preferred the Al'dross method. Loyalty and pride were more reliable. It was easy to see and more pleasant to look at. She hadn't needed to bribe a single person during her travels, and yet the roads were safe, free of bandits

and thieves. She wouldn't have believed it possible before. Entering any other city in

the Al'verren kingdom, unless she was escorted or announced herself, Eliora expected to be extorted or leered at. She would have already prepared a padded entry fee and a cold look to put the soldier in his place.

She did see an appreciating glimmer in the eyes of the gate guards as they waved her through, and they caught sight of toned legs wrapped in molded leather when her cloak parted. However, there were no demands for her to lower her hood for inspection, no creepy whistles or comments, just the shy smiles of young men and the acknowledging nods of their seniors. Tolerable, though not as flattering as the Guardsmen probably thought.

"Can you point out the Guildhall? This is my first time in…" The sensation of the world tilting interrupted the question Eliora put to the Sergeant overseeing the gate. The feeling of stumbling while standing still, of a wind without substance passing through her, caused her to nearly bite down on her tongue.

She wasn't the only one to feel the twisting of change in the world. The Sergeant's eyes left her and peered sharply towards a walled compound on a hill at the center of town.

"Guild is straight ahead, through the square. You can't miss it." The man's face was troubled as his head turned back to her. He lifted an arm to point the way. "I imagine it will be swarming with folks soon. Just follow the crowd."

The Sergeant seemed to recognize what had happened, and Eliora started to question him. He looked away, his body language dismissing her more clearly than words. His eyes were glued to the compound. The compound that had to contain the town's Dungeon.

That was answer enough. Tugging her cloak around her, Eliora hurried in the direction the Sergeant had indicated, barely holding herself back from breaking into a run. There was no need. Change took time. It would be a few hours before the Dungeon was open again. She had to find a team to enter with before it did. A good team, if possible. She had never imagined she would get the chance at a first clear at a small, established place like this. Eliora didn't intend to waste the opportunity.

Few in Bellrise had actually experienced a Dungeon change before, but

none mistook the disturbance for anything else. Academy classes were

immediately canceled for the day. Instructors had no patience for teaching. They rushed to form parties, kicking up dust on their exit and leaving their students bewildered.

Retired and semi-retired Adventurers grabbed up their weapons and pulled on armor that had been tucked away before hustling to the Guildhall. Farmers and merchants who had once been soldiers joined them, abandoning businesses and goods without a second thought. A change meant the chance of a first clear, a life-changing event.

Every first clear was important. For an individual, the first time in a Dungeon would have better drops and more coin. That could not compare to the very first clear of a fresh or new Dungeon, a Dungeon that no one had cleared before. Gold and Skills, Attribute Crystals or Class and Profession slots, perhaps a rare Class, were all possible rewards for the first group to defeat a Guardian. Even those that had no hope of finishing the Dungeon clamored to join in. The first few days of a changed Dungeon would provide huge profits even for those who never saw a Guardian.

Eliora had to push her way through the door of the Guild. Inside, half of Bellrise already packed the limited space. Most lined up at the Questing Pillar or were hammering at the counters, shouting questions at Guild Attendants.

How long till the Dungeon was open? Had a Diviner examined the entrance yet? What were the new Level requirements? The same questions repeated over and over, and no answers were forthcoming. Attendants shouted to be heard, but all they had to say was that they did not know.

Eliora had no idea what the Adventurers expected either. It had only been ten minutes since the change had occurred. She made her way towards the less-packed common area. The Adventurers here were seated at tables making plans in hushed voices.

There was one table open, a round one with five chairs, its availability conspicuous, given how every other seat was taken. It would remain that way. Every Guild common room had a table like it. In the center, approachable from all directions and empty. You would have to be as green as saplings came to sit there. Eliora walked past the table on her way towards the bar.

She caught the sleeve of a harried-looking barmaid, carrying a tray of drinks, before the woman could disappear. "Wine please, and—"

"You'll have to wait!" The barmaid tried to jerk her arm away. "We're busy if you hadn't noticed!"

"Wine," Eliora continued, maintaining her hold, "aAnd a candle, green, smelling of roses."

The barmaid's look turned pitying. She gave Eliora a sympathetic nod and said, "No wine, shipment from Al'drossford is late. There's a local cider that might suit you."

Eliora agreed and the barmaid shook her head as her sleeve was released. Her free hand reached out to pat the cloaked girl's shoulder before she went to deliver her tray, startling Eliora. Eliora repeated the encounter in her head. She was sure she had not spoken out of line. Why had the woman's mood changed so much?

Claiming the last open space at the bar, Eliora leaned against it, her elbows brushing the arms of the patrons on either side of her. Neither glanced her way. It was a strange mentality. The center table would be left open as indefensible, but Adventurers would crowd shoulder to shoulder with strangers, all with their backs to the entrance, and no one pointed out how vulnerable that was.

It could be put down to bravado, Eliora supposed. The loudest critics of the shunned table would end up face down drunk on the floor or in a ditch, with no concern for security. Capable Adventurers avoided the seat, not out of fear, but a sense of decorum. The table was empty because it should be, not because they were worried about a knife in the back.

The barmaid set a glass and a candle in front of Eliora and took a few coppers in exchange before disappearing with another light shake of her head. Eliora watched her go with a frown. The woman's attitude was off; Eliora just couldn't put her finger on why.

She took a tentative sip of her cider, the crisp apple flavor surprising her with its fresh appeal. She set the glass aside and moved the candle closer. The saucer it was set on was crude, meant for hot cups not catching wax, but the candle itself was a work of art.

A glossy emerald green, bearing the imprints and carvings of bees and flowers, Eliora felt it was a shame to light it. She had seen less impressive works of art prominently displayed in the homes of minor Nobles. It was a wonder the Guild could sell these candles so cheaply. It was probably due to the popularity of enchanted lights replacing candles in everyday use, though that might not hold true. Rarity, as much as the candle's fine craftsmanship, should drive up the price.

Eliora shook the erroneous thought away. Before she could stop herself,

her fingers touched the candle's wick and she cast Spark. The smell of spring, light and airy, filled the common room. Curious eyes turned her way and Eliora turned her body so the candle would be visible. Eyes went from the flame to her concealed face. Adventurers smirked, and a few snorted before going back to their conversations.

The candle was supposed to draw people in with its welcoming scent. It was a none-verbal invitation and an ancient tradition of the Guild. Contrary to her expectations, Eliora found the space around her opening up as people shifted away from her. Backs were turned as customers huddled over their drinks, making it clear that they would not respond to the invitation.

Not a soul stepped in her direction. The minutes passed, and Eliora kept a hopeful eye peeled. Sniggering Adventurers looked her way, careful not to meet her eye, their disdain in full view.

Unable to understand what she had done wrong, a blushing Eliora returned back to the bar and buried her face in her drink. Had her instructors been wrong? Had she chosen the wrong color? The wrong scent? What exactly had she announced to the bar?

"Green for open party and equal split? Roses meaning you'll lead?" The arms that settled on the bar next to her were accompanied by an amused voice. "Pretty bold for a sapling."

Without directly facing him, Eliora shifted her head, studying the owner of the heavy bass voice out of the corner of one eye. "Who are you calling sapling? My Token is Copper, and my knives are steel. You can inspect either if you'd like."

She was rather proud of the line, and the clear way she delivered it, even if it contained a small lie. Her Token would be Copper after she completed a few Quests.

The man's reply was less impressed by Eliora's statement. "Tough talk. Strange to start a fight when you're looking for party members, though. You can't make friends with unfriendly behavior."

Eliora swirled her half-cup of cider and said noncommittally. "From the looks I've been getting, I thought making friends was out of the question. Is that why you're here? To make friends?"

"Now that's whores talk." Eliora got her first clear look at the man as her hand went for her dagger, and she angled her body towards him. Heavy armor of leather and steel complimented heavier features and a mocking grin.

"No offense, girl," He held up his hands, not stepping back as Eliora's