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Chapter 65 Escalation arc E
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 06:34:37 +0000 UTCPdf and Epub versions below.
When my summoner first laid eyes upon the Dungeon, he did not speak. He would later, confirming a lack of spatial magic, but not in that first moment. He just stared, and I could almost see the Dungeon imprint onto him. I could see how fascination was born, examined, and ultimately discarded.
Let this be a warning. He is powerful, he is an Archmage, and he has no qualms about killing. But it is the—often unintentional—loyalty he inspires, his willingness to admit to faults, and his introspection that makes him dangerous. Attack him, and there will be a hundred souls in your path. Kill him, and there will be a thousand hounding for your blood.
One man can only do so much, a principle that holds true even for an Archmage. I have seen even the strongest fail to accomplish anything of real significance. Have seen Demon Kings fall to their own sons, wives turn on their husbands for power.
But he is not alone, and expecting betrayal from those closest to him is… unlikely. Violently unlikely.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
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Elly drank her tea, buttered a bun, and wondered if her sleep deprived self had been a genius or a super-genius.
Now, she would usually stab someone for daring to suggest she liked cuddles, but she did. Always had, really. It was just nice, and that was plenty enough motivation for her to seek them out.
But with Ness running off to play with the local nobility, it left no one for her to really cuddle with. Marcus didn’t like touch, which was sad but more importantly personally inconvenient, and asking Vess to cuddle was a bad idea.
But her sleep deprived self had found a solution! Simply ignore his wishes and trap him in limbs strong enough to make escape impossible, then promptly fall asleep. Brilliant. Well, brilliant because it seemed to have worked out.
If it hadn’t she’d be kicking herself right around now.
But no, she was eating a buttered bun and Marcus was sipping wine. Elly was in a good enough mood she even ignored his half-hearted attempt at consuming his bowl of stew, the taste probably not helping.
He’d been unusually insistent, though. Said that if he didn’t like eating he might as well eat healthy, something Elly hadn’t disagreed with, but that horrific concoction of vegetable and chicken stretched even the expert skill of their cooks.
Bah, no. She was in a good mood, dammit, and it wasn’t going to be sullied by his nutrient sludge. “So what’d you learn from sticking your knife in those corpses?”
“Quite a bit, actually, but nothing actionable.” Marcus bit into an apple, freezing for a split-second before continuing. No cleansing fire, though. Progress. “I think the Hounds require magic to sustain themselves, and can’t find enough up here to do so. That combined with a general lack of food might explain their malnutrition, though the fact that all Hounds, no matter their shape, weigh approximately fifty kilograms is still weird.”
Elly tilted her head. “If they need magic, why not stay in the Dungeon? I could all but feel the power radiating upwards when we looked down into it.”
“Now that is a good question,” he replied, and she beamed at him. It was always nice to be appreciated for her mind. Not that Marcus did much else before yesterday. Today? Midday naps did strange things to her sense of time. “Not one I have an answer to, either.”
He pushed his bowl away, having eaten most of it, and she resisted the urge to praise him like a newborn. The glare he’d sent her had been vicious, last time, and while making him feel some actual emotion was fun, being annoyed wasn’t conducive to what she suspected he was about to ask.
As if on cue, Marcus leaned forwards. “Do you have anything planned for the next hour?”
“Not really,” she replied, suppressing a smirk. Hah. “You want to try meditating?”
Marcus hummed. “Indeed I do. I feel like trying to reach zen while the Hounds are at the gate is counter productive.”
“Haha,” she replied dryly, taking her last bun with her as she stood. “Come on then, mister cuddly. Let’s break into alternative dimensions, or whatever bullshit you’re up to now.”
He rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait. Shame. But there was time for it later, and it was important to lay the groundwork early.
Some people thought cuddling was for special occasions, the gall, and she was more than willing to devote some time into breaking him out of that bad habit.
She sat on the floor, eying Marcus as he joined her. He was getting more flexible, more attuned to his own body, and it showed when he sat. Not quite as graceful as her, of course, but continued sparring helped to make him more confident in his own strength.
Still, she knew most people couldn't just drift to the ground and cross their legs in one smooth motion, let alone while holding a cup of wine. He looked at her, eyebrow raised, and she cleared her throat.
“Right then,” she began, calling up the well of energy in her core. It spread through her like a wave of soothing heat, though that tended to depend on her own mood. In battle it could be cold as ice, if she was excited it could zap like lightning. Never quite uncomfortable, though. “To call upon Life energy the mind has to be perfectly balanced, and meditation allows us to achieve that state. It is not, I should stress, something that can be forced. It is feeling more than logic, something which mages aren’t particularly well accustomed to.”
He tilted his head. “You’ve tried?”
“Back on Parna,” she explained, flicking her hand. “It doesn’t matter. Life and magic aren’t incompatible, necessarily, but finding one who can do both is rare beyond belief. Nevermind them mastering two different disciplines. Either way, not thinking is something that doesn't come naturally to a mage.”
Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t, but that’s no reason not to try. And I just need meditation, not Life Enhancement.”
“Exactly,” she replied, finishing her bun and settling her hands in her lap. “The first part, perhaps unsurprisingly, is breathing. It's similar to the recovery stimulation you’re been taught for sparring, if that helps.”
It seemed to, because his breathing slowed. Deep, slow breaths aimed to prevent hyperventilation, and he slowed it further when it became obvious his body didn’t actually need so much oxygen.
Hells, this might actually work. Fancy that. “Good, good. Now, I’d usually try to coax you into feeling for Life energy, but that’s obviously not what I'm here to do. So I’ll pulse in a slow pattern, and you can use that to take up idle thoughts. It's something I do with people who are talented but have difficulty quieting their mind.”
“Thanks.”
Elly suppressed a grin at his dry tone, keeping her voice even. “You’re welcome. Now breathe, and try not to try too hard.”
Marcus didn’t reply, his breathing slowing further as his heart rate lowered. Elly rolled the energy in her veins through easy, soothing patterns, from arm to arm and back again, and watched him for a few minutes before closing her own eyes.
He wasn’t some peasant that needed her constant attention. Not some kid who was bored and trying to hide it. So Elly slipped into her own meditations, keeping it relatively shallow. Sinking deep into her own mind was bliss, it really was, but her own progress wasn’t the point here.
Not even if she felt so close to reaching a new level of understanding. A new depth to depthless energy, purer and more hers than ever before. No, no. Helping Marcus conquer alternate realities first, then getting a well-deserved power-up.
Marcus was pulling further and further ahead, after all. Best not to let him get too far. It was lonely at the top, and she had no intention of ever being lonely again. It only seemed fair to extend that courtesy to him.
Time slipped by, and no miracles happened. No divine insight had been obtained, nor had Marcus found some hidden talent for Life Enhancement. Elly was alright with that. Miracles were from the Gods, and the Gods were silent.
She would create her own future.
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“Now, I would hesitate to complain, but why is the second wave smaller than the first?”
Elly wasn’t sure. Neither was Marcus, apparently. The Hounds raged below, thousands of them, but already their numbers were thinning. No corpses could pile up with the newly steepened slope, and the flyers found all rooftops covered in unnaturally sharp spikes.
The traps alone had killed a third of their numbers. The rest was too hungry to care about their atrocious losses, apparently, as magic and bolts rained down from above. What few Hounds did make it to the top of the walls found sharp steel waiting for them, the average soldier hardened against the monster's instinctive terror over the past week.
“At least you discovered a fondness for meditation,” she offered, shrugging. “Other than that, I’ve got nothing. Maybe it's just a splinter group?”
Marcus didn’t seem convinced. Neither was she, really. Something was wrong, but the what didn’t seem forthcoming. Nor was the when, for that matter.
Right, time to assume the worst and go from there. “If we see the Hounds as a distraction, what would be the best place to attack?”
“The sky?” Marcus offered. “No, underground. We’ve sealed most of the tunnels from the last attack, but quite a few of the mages worked on the slope. There might still be a number too deep for us to easily detect.”
That sounded about right. Lure the defenders to the walls, sneak inside, kill their mages. A suicide attack, but she doubted Champions much cared. Not if it got them fed. It also explained their absence amongst the Hounds.
“I’ll take a few dozen mages,” she said, already turning. “They’ll seal up the whole damn hill, if need be.”
Marcus waved her off. “I’ll be alright over here.”
She didn’t doubt it. Teleportation and defenses aside, his guards took their jobs very seriously. More so than any other she’d seen, really, with maybe the exception of Vistus. Must be an Archmage thing.
She didn’t inspire that kind of protective zeal, though that was an unfair comparison. Only some of his guards were her people, while most of hers were his. Marcus also didn’t have enhanced reflexes, speed and strength, though the one thing they were both equal in was their mortality.
Take away his shield, her speed, either of their defenses, and their flesh would bleed like any other mortal.
Gathering the mages didn’t take long, and neither did a quick search of the walls. Nothing she could feel, not with this amount of chaotic energy obscuring any sensitive traces, so intelligence would have to do.
The attack would come from underground, and if she wanted to take the castle, she would go for… the smithies.
Take away their ability to resupply, to fletch more arrows and repair damaged armor. Trash the workshops, kill the workers, then move on to storage. Burn the food, poison the water, slaughter the wounded. Hunt for resting mages, kill support personnel, do anything to make the next battle less in their favor.
Elly moved, calling up four companies of men to follow her and stationing another dozen around the Eastfort. It nearly doubled the guards already on regular duty, so it would have to do. More could be summoned when the situation demanded it.
She herself gathered a small group of her Life Enhanced soldiers, those not needed on the walls, and stalked. Stalked and honed her senses underground, scanning the skies every few moments just in case she was wrong.
A faintly arrogant smile stretched over her lips when she wasn’t.
Below, a flicker of energy appeared and was gone the moment after. Someone down there was using Life, was using the art that sang to her ever since she was a child, and they’d been a hair too slow with suppressing it. With a moment to feel it she honed her senses, an actual target cutting through the chaos outside.
There. Sneaky little Champions, guided by what she could only imagine were Burrowers. Burrowers that moved slowly, carefully, and not towards her smithies. Not towards the storage or wounded, even. No, they were tunneling below the keep.
“Evacuate the keep,” she ordered, keeping her tone even. “Quick and quiet. Get me Gretched and her apprentices.”
The soldier she'd addressed nodded, dashing off to obey. Elly limbered up her body as she waited, which was technically unnecessary but helped to keep her occupied, and nodded as the old witch joined her.
Not a personal fan, that one. The woman nodded curtly and didn’t complain, but Elly could see the suppressed glare. The urge to tap her foot. The witch considered the summoning an insult, even if she wouldn't actually do anything about it.
If that woman wasn’t one of Marcus’, and as terrified of him as only the old could be, Elly would be making a problem of it. Or, perhaps more accurate, she would be removing the problem before it could become one.
But no, the witch knew which way the wind was blowing. Gretched would obey, and Elly had learned a long time ago that it was the best one could get, usually. There would be the fierce supporters, there would be the dissenters, and the remaining eighty percent would follow her as long as they believed it was in their best interest.
“I want a tunnel straight down,” Elly said after another moment, pointing. “There. I need it quickly, and only just big enough to let me and seven others fall through. Seal it up behind us and support the soldiers stationed in the keep afterwards. We’ll find our way out on our own.”
Gretched grunted. “How deep?”
“Two hundred feet. The target is moving, but not quickly.”
The witch turned to the mages she’d brought, which Elly noted were all female, but that was Marcus’ business. By her silence Elly assumed Gretched would get the job done, which was all she needed.
Gretched and her apprentices moved to the spot Elly had indicated, and magic seeped from their bodies. It was different from what Marcus did, less absolute control and more sweeping motions, but she wasn’t going to second guess a witch’s ritual.
Elly gathered her squad, those who would be able to fight in the dark, and went over the plan. Which was relatively simple, in the end. Stop the Champions from either invading or structurally destabilizing the keep, and achieve that by killing them all.
She liked it when combat was simple like that. No future alliances to consider, no moral standpoints that could be made. The denizens of the Dungeon came here to slaughter and feed, so she would kill them before they could.
It didn’t take Gretched long to prepare her ritual, eight voices chanting softly alongside her own, and with a curt gesture Elly moved closer still. She had no idea what magic the witch was using, how it worked or what the details were. She didn’t care to know, either.
The chanting reached a fever pitch, the nine mages fell silent, and a hole began to stretch down into the dark. Elly felt alarmed movement from those below, the Burrowers speeding up their task, but it was too little, too late.
She stepped over the edge, gravity taking hold as she pulled on the energy in her core. Lightning raced down her limbs, the darkness parting before her enhanced eyes, and she angled her body downwards. Air resistance lessened, her speed increased, and at the last possible moment she drew her dagger.
Earth had given way to stone, and now she rammed her dagger into it with enough strength to make her arm groan. But steel slid into rock, her momentum was slowed at the last moment, and the surprised face of a hulking Champion was the thing she saw.
The last thing before she landed on his chest, kicking out to cushion her fall. The Orc crumbled, chest caved in as blood detonated outwards, and Elly’s hand whipped out to draw her other dagger.
Her squad was with her a moment later, having slowed their descent early and thus not needing someone to land on, and their enchanted bone weaponry almost shone to her senses. The group she’d landed in the middle of recovered from their surprise, screams of anger sounding out, and natural light vanished as Gretched sealed her entrance.
To her eyes there was plenty of light, the Champions carrying torches and even a lantern, but had they not been she’d have seen just fine. Anything alive held Life energy, and fighting with only that to guide her had been one of her first hard lessons against the undead.
That was so long ago, now. Elly stabbed, taking a willowy Elf through the throat while smashing his torch against the tunnel walls, and the Champion's white eyes widened in surprise. She shifted as it grabbed for the bow on her back, eyes widening further in rage when it failed, and she blinked.
Entirely white eyes. No pupils, no iris, nothing. Just orbs of faintly glowing white, set in an otherwise relatively regular face. The last hint of humanity vanished when it screamed, four sets of teeth trying to tear into her throat, and Elly broke its skull against the stone.
Her squad was butchering the remainder of the group, so she hunted forwards. The Burrower would be close, faintly worm-like to her senses but big enough to make tunnels she could walk upright in, and she was going to kill it.
Then she was going to find every other tunnel they’d made, which would have to interconnect at some point, and slaughter this entire surprise attack to the last.
The Burrower came closer, and closer, and it was good Elly hadn’t expected to kill it without a fight. The creature was facing her, for one, and the grooves in the stone suggested it had turned the moment the hole had opened.
Its maw opened wide, a thousand teeth snapping at her as its round face lunged forwards, and Elly grinned as its leathery skin almost grazed her.
Worms were worms, no matter their size, and this one didn’t quite seem to know what to do after its first attack failed. Elly did.
She drew her bow, infused the wood with Life, and her arrow punctured through the back of its throat and out the other side of its body a moment later. The monster stilled, slumping down when its muscles grew slack, and some guesstimation told her they were almost under the keep.
Just in time, then.
Elly turned, the sounds of fighting having died down, and her squad moved with her as she sped deeper into the tunnel network.
There was finally something in this war she was made for, and low barks of laughter filled the air as her soldiers rejoiced in glorious bloodshed. In the flashing of steel, the breaking of bone, and the howling of the dead.
She’d picked these seven for a good reason, and she was almost surprisingly proud that four of them were Mirranians.
It was time to find that Champion that dared to challenge her with the art of Life Enhancement, and then she was going to have some fun.
