Book 7: Chapter 48: The Mountain's Fury

Book 7: Chapter 48: The Mountain's Fury

Ranish Dar watched Fonroy as he stiffly retreated, walking through the crowded club to the elevator that would take him up to the more private viewing chambersno doubt on his way to report every word of their conversation to some of the other masters who were too proud to show their faces. Across from him, Loro chuckled as his privacy spell fell back into place with an audible pop, dampening their words. A little hysterical, wasnt he? Has he never watched a death match in the colosseum?

Ranish sighed and shook his head, idly watching Victor embrace his berserk titanic form, openly waiting for the last three challengers to find him. Gods, but he had a hell of a spirit! He turned to Loro. Not involving their students. Well, let me rephrase that: not unless they were certain their students would win. Thats the problem with Sojourn. Thousands of years of placidity have led to a generation of soft, untested souls. Consider this, Loro: That mans student, whats his name? Elandor? How old is he? Seventy-odd years?

Something like that. Not more than a hundred, certainly.

Dar slapped his hand on the table. Exactly my point! Thank you. You consider him young, yes?

Naturally . . .

In the world where Victor was born, Elandor would be considered a senior citizen. Think of that! Elandor has had a life of study, mentorship, and dungeon delving. A truly safe, tranquil existence.

Loros eyes narrowed. Dungeons carry with them quite a risk . . .

Fah! Dar waved his hand dismissively. In Sojourn? Where every dungeon is mapped and cataloged, and where they're all curated and offered only to appropriately leveled entrants? You could read a dozen encyclopedias on any one of the dungeons available to the citizens of this city. Do you think a pampered nature student like Elandor would go into a dungeon if there were any chance he couldnt escape? This is likely the first contest hes entered where there was a true risk of death, however small; youve seen how effective the Lifesavers have been. Loro started to say something, but Dar wasnt finished. Lets not forget he went in with an alliance of rather absurd strength.

I begin to see your point. So, youre saying this is why your boy is different?

Exactly. Just this morning, I was reading through the journal I tasked him with writing. That young man has been on the brink of death more times than he wasnt. Hes been enslaved, tortured, had his Core shattered, and recovered while under the threat of constant death and brutal beatings. He has regularly battled enemies stronger than himself, and each time that hes felt deaths breath on his neck, hes fought his way back. I had no doubt he would thrash any one of the entrants in this dungeon, given a face-to-face challenge. The surprise of some of the other masters is telling.

So, you think hell win?

Hell win this fight, aye, but look. He pointed at Aronas viewing window. The young death caster has more wisdom than her friends, though some might call her cleverness cowardice. I wont be surprised if she wins the dungeon, but Victor wont be eliminated, especially as his biggest threat slinks away.

Loro shifted, smiling. I know Im biased in my agreement, but tell me: Why do you consider her the biggest threat?

I worked with her master on a project. Im sure you know himVesavo Bonewhisper?

Oh, aye. I know him quite well, quite well, indeed. Im also well acquainted with the young lady pictured there. Loro gestured to the viewing window where, even now, Arona was slipping away behind the curtain of the waterfall.

Well, then you know that, unlike other Death Casters, his practice specializes in harnessing and cultivating champion spirits, bringing them forth in constructs of bone and flesh. Im certain that young woman has some powerful summons she can employ, and, with an enormous Energy pool, she might have been able to wear Victor down. Especially with her two brawny allies.

We may never know. Again, Loro pointed to the viewing window. Arona had slipped into a short stone tunnel and now approached a set of stairs.

Perhaps not in todays contest. Dar smiled, leaning back, interlocking his stout, black fingers on the tabletop.

Yet you seem smug, even in the face of Aronas impending victory.

Victors showing has already confirmed my hopes and won me enough money in the gambling halls to fund a decade of projects. I am not displeased. Moreover, is it not lovely to know a few of the more passionate, active members of the Sojourn political scene have been taken down a notch or three?

Aye. Loro smiled, his corpse-like skin stretching tight along his facial bones. Just a second later, though, his eyes unfocused, and the smile faded from his expression. My follower has set eyes upon the Fae girl, Sora Deval. She suffers greatly.

His brutal punishment was cathartic, feeding his fury, encouraging his rage, driving him to more and more violence. Everyone who watched the fight could see the writing on the wall: Victor was too much for Brontes to handle. Hed been too much before, even with Valeskas aid, but now, in this state, seemingly burning with an endless supply of furious fire, he was utterly dominating him.

The fur-covered giant was more than on the defensive; he was in full retreat, seeking an egress, a way to escape Victors fiery frenzy. He tried to dash away more than once, but even using the ability to run on glittering glory-infused steps of light, Victor was too fast, and Brontes couldnt risk showing him his flank. Finally, the frustrated despair was apparent on his face: Hed realized he had no way out other than to embrace the painful penalty of the Lifesaver.

Victors breath was short and ragged as he panted his lustful fury, hacking Lifedrinker in precise, deadly strokes. His eyes smoldered, burning like white-hot coals. Smoke and flames licked his lips with each exhalation, and if he hadnt been reveling in the destructive smashes of his axe against that club, he might have sought to end things faster with a burst of magma-infused breath.

His opponent stumbled back, and his face took on a new expression, one Victor couldnt read in his current state. After a deep inhalation, Brontes straightened and braced himself, blazing with golden, glittering, glory-attuned Energy as he dug his left hand into his neckline, pulling on a cord from which a tiny charm dangled.

Victor saw the charm, and a corner of his mind knew he didnt want the giant to activate it. With desperate, frustrated strength, he lifted Lifedrinker high. He hacked her down, seizing the moment to strike when the giants cudgel swayed to the side, unable to guard effectively with only one hand guiding it. Lifedrinker, trailing black smoke, screaming through the air, descended toward the side of Brontess neck, and Victors maddened eyes widened with the anticipation of the blow, eager to see his enemys blood flow. Just as her edge sliced the first layer of the giants flesh, though, he burst into golden smoke and was gone.

Victors eyes flared with fire as he stared at the dissipating smoke. Lifedrinker hung at his side, his hand gripping her handle with enough force to shatter stone. His veins bulged with boiling blood. The wreathing aura of fire that encased his body flared, lifting toward the cavern ceiling like a torch doused with kerosene. His mind was driven blank by the apoplectic agony of his righteous fury. He had been denied, and the world would feel his wrath! Victor arched his back and opened his mouth in a scream of outrage that carried no sound other than the freight train roar of a torrent of fire as he emptied his magma Core in a fountain of streaming white-hot lava.

Simultaneously, he stomped his foot and cast Wake the Earth. As a Herald of the Mountains Wrath, Volcanic Fury and Wake the Earth walked hand in hand in his subconscious, instinctive brothers of destruction. It was instinctual, automatic, and there was not a single thought behind it. He poured everything he had into the spell, his wrath having removed any temperance. The ground shook, a ripple of force rolling out from him as the epicenter, and, like a spiders web, hundreds of cracks tore open on the stone cavern floor, widening as they spread away from him. Stalagmites burst as the cracks went through them. Stalactites fell as the world shook. Stones the size of buildings crashed down in a deafening cacophony of destruction.

Through it all, Victor howled. His initial burst of magma had done much to paint the world in hues of orange and red. The fire of his breath Core was hot enough to melt stone and had a liquid quality that clung to the surfaces it touched, continuing to burn as the world came apart around him. He screamed and frothed, and the world exploded and fell, and through it all, Victors ire burned, his mind utterly gone in the face of it.

#

Arona watched as Shol-pan, the first spirit shed ever harnessed, finished killing the bridge trolls. She could see the stairs to the sixth level on the other side, and she hadnt minded the opportunity to let some frustration out. Valeska was out. That meant Brontes was left to stop or slow the stranger. Victor, I suppose, she muttered, facing the fact that everyone would know his name soon enough. And if Brontes failed? How quickly would Victor catch her? Shed hoped the fifth level would be the final one, that she could wrap things up quickly before he had a chance to pursue. It didnt seem likely, however. Not with the speed with which Valeska had fallen.

Shol-pan glided back to her, trailing lines of blood from his long, spectral clawsa trail of gore leading to the two dead trolls. Mistress. He bowed, staring at her through his weird, ice-blue eyes, waiting for praise, dismissal, or a new task.

Well done, Shol-pan. You grow ever stronger; I am pleased. She stood and started over the bridge, pondering the bodies, contemplating the removal of a bone or three for later use. No time, I suppose. Was she being overcautious? It could take Victor hours to find the stairs in that great cavern, assuming he beat Brontes . . .

***Brontes Ironhide has been rescued from certain death and removed from the dungeon. Two entrants remain. Prepare for an Energy infusion.***

Damn it! she hissed, breaking into a jog toward the distant stair. Shed just cleared the stone span when the ground lurched, and the dungeons diffuse, pale light flickered and winked out. Arona stumbled, falling to her hands and knees, scuffing her palms on the rough stone. Her eyes flared with cold Energy, turning the darkness to twilight, and she looked around, mouth partially open, wondering what could have caused the dungeon to react in such a way. Another faint tremor vibrated the stone under her hands, and, to her shock, the bridge split with a thunderous crack, and the near side slipped into the chasm. Arona scrambled forward, putting more distance between herself and the abyss.

Mistress . . . Shol-pan hissed, his semi-corporeal blue form glowing in the dark as he swooped near.

Hush! she hissed, scrambling to her feet and stooping to pick up Balefrost where shed dropped him. The polished bone in her hand comforted her as her brain scrambled for an explanation. Leaning on the staff, its hard end pressed against the stone, she felt the vibrations continuing, and her grasping mind couldnt fathom what it could mean. Suddenly, the sourceless, simulated daylight flickered on again, nearly dazzling her Ghost Sight-enhanced eyes.

***Attention: This dungeons dimensional bonds are being strained, requiring an ongoing Energy infusion to maintain. All entrants will be removed to allow the owners an opportunity to provide Energy, facilitating repairs. The remaining entrants will be awarded a chest as though they have cleared their current level. No penalty will be applied to the entrants removed due to this emergency. No outstanding Energy infusions will be awarded.***

Arona frowned, studying the words to ensure she understood. There wouldnt be an award for the elimination of Brontes, Valeska, Sora, or Elandor. The city of Sojourn would be on the hook for the repairs, and she would get a chest for this level. And no penalty, Shol-pan. Ill take that. Again, I am pleased.

Your pleasure brings me joy, Mistress.

Arona started to make a quip about him being incapable of joy when the world flared with white light. The ground seemed to shift under her feet, and as her vision recovered, she found herself stumbling onto the teleportation platform in the World Hall Annex, where theyd all gathered to enter the dungeon. Three gray-robed attendants rushed forward, but two of them stopped beside the enormous, steaming, dust-and-blood-covered form in front of herVictor.