"Damn sun," Volio muttered as he poured a bit of water from his canteen onto the rag in his hand before slapping it onto the back of his neck. The trek had taken several days, and he paused at the foot of the mountainous range. Anyone going up the mountains would have to be crazy. But that's what I am, at least, what everyone tells me. Volio had one goal since that day ten years ago. One single purpose. I have to find her.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his pack off his back and wrapped climbing spikes onto his boots, put two climbing pickaxes around his wrists, and began the ascent up the very, very steep escarpment. His trusty bow rattled against his back, and the quivers on his back and hip clanked with every movement. He breathed smoothly as he ascended the rocks. She has to be alive. They never found her body. And Misty saw something those years ago with her spell that she couldn't explain and didn't voice, just muttering something about, "It can't be..."
Volio knew that Lyn was alive. She had to be. He needed her. Ever since their ninth-grade year when they first met, he had pined for her. The athletic, muscular, goth girl that no one seemed to be able to catch the affections of. He chuckled as he reminisced on the moment when she showed her love for him.
"Throw the damned ball!" Lyn had shouted at him as their small class of twenty played dodgeball. Not the crappy, foam balls – the rubber ones. Volio looked down at the ball and tossed it to Lyn before wham! He was slammed in the face by a solid ball launched by Zack. Volio fell to the ground, and instead of throwing the ball to get someone on the other team out, Lyn ran over to him and covered his body with her own, suffering several hits against her back. "Knock it off!" she shouted over her shoulder to the other team. "You fucking hit him the face!"
He remembered looking up at her, rubbing his sore face as he stared into her beautiful, stern, blue eyes. The perfect jawline with sharp cheekbones and long, regal nose of royalty. All accentuated by her black eyeliner, rouge cheeks, and purple lipstick. His dark angel. The savior he didn't deserve. The only person he'd met in school that cared about his well-being – in that instant, he fell in love.
Not just a regular, crush type of love. The obsessive, 'make a shrine' in your locker type of love. When he wasn't in the nearby city for his theatre classes, he was watching her at the skate park. Longing for what he wanted and was too afraid to ask for. Only when he was on stage, and he couldn't see the audience, did he feel confident enough to act. With her looking at him? With those piercing, blue eyes? No...he couldn't ask her. But he didn't need to say anything. They had a connection. He knew she felt the same way that he felt about her. The way she looked at him when he was sitting, watching her at the skate park. Her glances in study hall when she caught him staring. There wasn't a need for words. It was love. And he knew she only had eyes for him. Every glance she gave him screamed, 'I love you, Volio.'
He felt shame, leaving Lyn to fight the Demonic Dragon. But what was he going to do? He didn't have an artifact weapon like James, Kory, or Lyn. His arrows couldn't do jack-shit to the Dragon. And he knew Lyn was strong – strong enough to survive. He saw how much she had grown. Her body constantly becoming more and more muscular and enhanced. There was no way she was dead. He would have felt it. They had a connection.
When they left the dread fortress and returned, hailed as the heroes that saved the world...he didn't celebrate. He didn't attend the ceremonies, feasts, and other events of celebration. He spent weeks staring off towards the enormous, volcano-topped range where his beloved supposedly died. Sleepless nights wandering the halls, visiting her empty room over and over. Laying in her bed and sobbing into the mattress and pillows that still had her smell on them. Every time he tried to get his classmates to go on an expedition to try and find her, they pushed him away. Thomas wouldn't even help – and they were sort-of friends before the summoning. "You're obsessed with someone who is gone. It's not healthy," Thomas had told him.
"Yeah, you're one to talk," Volio had replied. "Drinking from that flask all the time, I know it's whiskey. Don't preach to me about coping. She's alive. I will find her." That was nine years ago. The last time Volio talked to his once-sort-of-friend.
Shaking his head, he returned to the present. You're alive. I know it. He crested a small ledge and took a pause, sipping from his canteen as the heat of the sun beat down on him in the badlands. He set the canteen down and pulled out a shirt he had taken from her room before they left to assault the dread fortress. He held it up to his face and took a deep whiff of her scent. My Lyn, I'd know if you were gone. Putting the canteen away, and tucking the shirt into his belt pocket, he continued his ascent. I'll find you.
The room Lyn entered was octagonal. And filled to the brim with treasure. It also screamed to her 'I'm a trap'. There were treasure chests with gems and gold overflowing. Pristine weaponry that shimmered with magical glow littered the treasure pile. And this would have suckered any delver in almost instantly.
Lyn gasped and ran over, grabbing the spearhead instantly. Rus'os'glar. The artifact spear she had used to inflict the fatal blow. It could amplify wind elementalism external spells and was the most precious item she found in a dungeon. A natural match to her combat style and Scout core's external spells. She clutched it tightly as she remembered the vivid memory of finding the completed weapon after defeating a tornado elemental by compressing it with a wind spell, condensing it down to a solid enough state she could kill it. One of the hardest solo battles she had fought. She felt her heart swell with pride as the vivid memory of returning to the other heroes with the first artifact weapon acquired from a dungeon. The look of jealousy on her classmates' faces was something she giggled at.
"My Lady?" Gael asked, bringing her out of her reverie.
"Oh, right." Lyn gripped the spearhead firmly in her left hand and walked over to the armor and weapon. The armor looked like it wouldn't fit, and even though looking at it brought chills down her spine...it looked pretty badass. She sighed and reached a hand out to touch the spot where her weapon had carved a deep cut. Black adamantine. The rarest kind. It was very, very hard to damage.
The armor glowed neon-blue, and she pulled her hand back. In the blink of an eye, the armor rack was empty, and Lyn felt the weight settle on her. It felt...welcoming. It was warm, like a soothing hug from a loved one. Wearing it felt...right. Her mana core stopped its incessant roiling that she had been constantly diverting into the amulet. A primal flame, contained within a cage.
Gael gasped and fell to his knees, "My Lady! You look resplendent!"
Lyn looked down at her all-encompassing armor. Full plate that feels this light? Just to test, she jumped up and down a few times. It felt like she was wearing leather armor, not full plate. And the articulation was perfect – she was flexible in all the right areas. What about a helmet? As if responding to her thoughts, a large helm rose up to cover her head entirely. It restricted some of her vision, but was very, very protective. Oh, that's awesome! I can't wait to see myself in a mirror wearing this stuff. She willed the helmet away, and it melted back into the armor.
"I wonder what the sword will do," she muttered as she reached out for it. Gripping the hilt of Yol'Kren'Tuz sent a surge of warmth down her hand.
And the spearhead of Rus'os'glar vanished from her left hand. The hilt of the sword glowed a vibrant, neon green before settling back to the black metal color once more. What just happened? She tried opening her mana channel and diverting some of the mana down her arm and to the sword.
Holding it in front of her and pointing away, she could feel the mana surge down her arm – as if eager to reach its destination – and into the hilt of the sword. The blue and black blade of lava – mana in its raw form – was limned by gusts of wind that turned the simple short sword-length blade she had fought against into that of a longsword. It can absorb other artifacts and gain power? This was something she had never heard of. I wonder...she tried to focus on just the wind from her mana core...but the blade stayed the same. Well, I suppose there's some reason it can absorb other artifacts. I'm going to rename it...Cataclysm. Yeah, that's a metal as fuck name.
She turned to Gael and pulled the mana back through the blade and into her mana core. She had to divert some excess flow to the amulet under the armor, but the mana blade vanished, and she found to her satisfaction that the armor had a slot on the hip for the hilt to click into. "Stand, please."
Gael did so, "My Lady, what now?"
Lyn smiled and turned to the wall of body enhancing materials. "I spend some time getting reacquainted with myself."