Chapter 21: After the Adversary

Tobias blinked. Everything was fuzzy, and his body felt foreign for a few moments. But then, he managed to stand up, and grabbed his sword with him. His legs had a sharp pain echoing through them, yet his arms seemed to be perfectly fine...

No. Now that he was carrying his sword, his arms also let out faint echoes of pain which seemed distant, but were now slowly, but surely approaching him the more he moved them.

In the near distance, he could see the monstrous Specter open its abyssal mouth, filled with razor edges of teeth as it hefted Clara over the ravine-like opening. So he grit his teeth together and began to move. Each step was slower than he intended, and each step let out bursts of pain which he tried to ignore.

But it didn’t matter. His enemy was only five steps away from him. He bore each step with renewed resolution... and there he was. Just behind one of its legs.

He raised his sword, hefting it behind his back with both hands. Then he gathered his energy, and let loose a full-powered two handed, horizontal swing, cleaving off the monster’s spindly leg. The monster immediately howled in pain, as it lost its balance and fell towards the ground, dropping Clara. It let out a screech which might have hurt his ears if he cared.

“Marcus... you’re alive?”

Tobias didn’t answer the question, but he also didn’t stop moving. He raised his sword once more, and with another powerful swing, cleaved the other leg off. Black blood-like substance flowed from both foot-split limbs, and he stared at the monster without any sort of expression.

And then – he crawled up on its back, and stared at the head of the monster who only howled in pain. And without any further words, he raised his sword, and plunged it deeply behind its head, drawing a fountain of ink-like blood.

The Specter twitched again and again. But instead of getting away from it, Tobias looked at it. It was ugly and hideous. And the fact that its smash hurt him badly only made him even more annoyed at it. Then he raised his sword again.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

“Marcus!” It was Clara’s voice which called out his false name that finally made him stop. He idly looked at the monster below him, whose back of its head was already filled with countless gouges, exposing its strange, alien, grotesque, brain-like organ. His hands and blade were stained black, and he could feel some moistness staining his shirt.

“You... you can stop now, please.” She pleaded with him, and her voice seemed to be strained.

When he opened his mouth to respond, he only found himself exhausted and breathing in air deeply. Then he let out a small sigh, and hopped down from the monster. When he landed, he let out a wince from his injured legs.

Then he looked at Clara – and gave a brief nod to himself. “You seem to be alright.”

“I... well... yes.” She responded, confused and dazed. Because really, it probably wasn’t the first thing she expected him to say after that gruesome, merciless display. He was self aware to that much, at least. “Are you alright...?” She asked carefully – no, not with care for him. She was careful about him.

But he only nodded, and ignored such thing. “I can still move, so I am fine. We have to help the others, come on.”

Clara only nodded wordlessly, and moved away, as if eager to get some distance away from him. It was only natural, was it not? He had enough awareness to know that his display must have come off as... sadistic, maybe even psychotic. But he only shrugged –

That particular action caused his body to ache. Now that the monster was dead, his pain slowly surged through him like a wave of water held back for too long.

That one, crushing blow definitely knocked him out for a moment or two, and possibly broke a few of his bones. But nothing too debilitating or crippling. He was used to pain, after all.

So he withdrew a healing potion from his leather pouch. It was a minor surprise to find out that the vials were still intact, even through the sheer amount of rolling and moving around he did.

Removing the vial stopper, he drank the liquid. It tasted fruity, yet bitter. The liquid seemed to move within his own body, and he felt his own bones knit themselves to back to normal.

But how convenient were healing potions, even? No wonder these were expensive in comparison to everything else. (But surely there were limitations, no?)

His own injuries fixed (well, most of them. Some minor parts of his body still ached, but it was much more bearable than before), he moved towards Bastille. A quick pulse check revealed that he was still alive, but unconscious, and he let out a relieved sigh.

He wasn’t sure if the Sorcerer broke any bones of his from the attack he received, but because he was still unconscious, he wasn’t quite sure if he could just let him drink a healing potion. He might choke on it, after all. So in the end, Tobias simply decided to carry Bastille, hefting the Sorcerer on his shoulders like some sort of sack filled with potatoes.

He idly thought that Bastille was much lighter than he expected. Then again, Magnus trained him to push natural human limitations for his age so... Tobias shrugged.

He headed towards the small ash-covered ground by the petrified trees, where Clara knelt by their unconscious Swordsman and Party Leader, Jacques.

“Bastille is alright. He is just unconscious.” He called out towards the Archer, who seemed finished with her assessment of their party leader.

Clara flinched at his voice, before relaxing. “I-I see... I’m glad.” She looked at the Sorcerer, and let out a relieved sigh of her own, then nodded. “Jacques is also fine, but I think he broke a few of his bones or something... I’m not sure if arms are supposed to bend that way...” She commented, and Tobias flicked his gaze to look at him.

He blinked, then his gaze idly met with Clara’s eyes for a few moments... with a nod, they both wordlessly agreed that arms should not be bent like that.

So he carefully placed Bastille down, letting him lie down against the ash-covered floor. His breathing was stable, and his expression was peaceful.

On the other hand, aside from Jacques’ bent arm, he was also fine for the most part.

“It is not a good idea to move them around, is it?” Tobias idly asked, and the Archer gave a nod. “Then again... do you think it might be dangerous to linger around?”

“I somehow think it’s alright.” Clara replied, and let out a shrug. “I don’t know why, but some part of me is just telling me that everything’s fine now.”

“Huh.” He hummed, then looked around.

The barren, ashen background was still deserted, but his instincts really weren’t telling him anything was amiss. The corpse of the Specter-like entity was beginning to disintegrate into motes of light, and from its head, something glinted, before dropping to the ground with a soft clink.

“What was that?” She asked, her ears perking up when she heard the faintest clink.

“I do not know. I will check it out.” He replied, then stood up. He walked over the corpse, which by now, only had the chopped off remnants of its legs remaining before those parts, too, faded into motes of light.

Tobias thought it was awfully ironic that a creature from the abyss disappeared into light.

Looking down, he found a large, silver key, and idly picked it up. On closer inspection, it bore a large loop, and was connected to a stick with two teeth...

It really was just a large silver key.

When he returned, Jacques was finally awake, and Clara was there by his side. He looked at his bent arm, and then towards Tobias – no, the key he held in his hands. With his good arm, he flashed a thumbs up. “Nice Dungeon Key you got there. Guess it’s safe to say we won?”

Tobias blinked. If this guy still had this much energy to him, then he was alright. He pointed at the bent limb. “Yeah, we did. Nice arm.”

“I know.” Jacques replied, and when he moved to laugh, his face only turned into a pained grimace. “Yeah... this hurts. Help me set my arm straight, Marcus.”

“S-set?!” Clara squeaked out, and she seemed to pale at the words.

“Alright.” Tobias nodded. Then he knelt beside the dislocated arm, before giving it a stern tap. Jacques gave a small wince, before glaring at him. “Alright, calm down. I was just checking it out. Why do we need to set it in place? A healing potion would heal it, right?”

“Healing potions are... simply for healing. If I don’t set my arm, then it’s just going to heal my arm, dislocated or not.” Jacques explained, with a sigh to himself. “Also can’t cure poisons or illnesses, I guess. That’s the downfall of mass produced, cheap healing potions.”

Cheap? A potion cost half a silver coin, and Jacques called it cheap? But then again... Those potions might be the lowest quality, and might be mass produced as he said.

“I see.” Tobias nodded, then grabbed the arm as gently as he could. Good thing that his bones were only fractured earlier, and weren’t dislocated then. “So there are more expensive healing potions which are capable of those, then?”

“Basically. I heard some of the more expensive ones can even revive a person if they died recently or something.” Jacques shrugged with one shoulder.

His interest briefly spiked, until he remembered that Marcus’ body was literally nowhere to be found. And even if he did, the Swordsman said ‘recently’. As far as he was concerned, half a year was not recent.

... Actually, was Marcus’ lack of body the reason why he assumed that the guy wasn’t really dead, and more of... whisked away? That was the feeling he got from the entire thing, after all.

“Hmm.” Tobias hummed, before he shrugged those thoughts aside. Back to the task at hand, he supposed. Looking at the bent arm, he idly remembered having his arm set by Magnus once... no, twice. It was as painful as one would expect. “Close your eyes, and I’ll do a count down.”

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Jacques hesitantly asked.

“Is it not too late to ask that? Anyways, do not worry. Just close your eyes.” Tobias replied back, giving his shoulder a pat of assurance. He idly glanced behind him, and found that Clara had her ears covered and eyes closed, while her face was set in a grimace.

And looking at his party leader, he found that he had already had his eyes closed, and seemed to hold his breath in anticipation.

Good.

“On the count of three, I will set in place.” He called out, and Jacques let out a nervous nod. “Ready? One, two –” He didn’t wait until it was three, before he already snapped the arm in place.

The first time Magnus did that to him caught him off guard, but because it was unexpected, it also didn’t hurt as much as he expected. The second time – he knew when it was coming, so he felt the moment his arm got set, and it hurt. This trick only worked once on a person, really.

“Gah!” Jacques let out a stifled cry of pain, before he opened his eyes and glared at him. “That wasn’t three... Marcus, you cheeky motherfucker.”

“But hey, it did not hurt as much as you expected, did it not?” Tobias replied, and let out a shrug.

Jacques sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, whatever.” He gave his arm a few rotations, and while he winced from pain, he bore it to check his arm’s functions. “Yeah... this seems alright now. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” Tobias gave a shrug. And when he did, Jacques idly reached down towards his pouch, and procured his own healing potion. He opened it, and drank its contents, before releasing a relieved sigh.

“Oh yeah.” He said, pointing towards the silver key. “That’s like, really important. It’s our way out of this room, and not to mention, it also opens up our reward chest.”

“Huh.” Tobias nodded. “Sounds about right. Where is it?”

Jacques looked around the desolate courtyard-like arena, before letting out a sigh. “If it’s not in the boss room, then it’s usually just before the exit. We have the backtrack and go to the room from where we came from.”

Tobias nodded. He idly remembered Magnus mentioning that fact before as well.

And right on cue, Bastille also finally woke up. It was Clara who told them about it, and they turned to face their resident Sorcerer.

Tobias respected him, mostly because of his carefree, somewhat sarcastic attitude, but also because of the sheer magical power he brought into battle as evidenced just earlier on.

It wasn’t everyday where he witnessed a fully-powered disintegrating, metal-melting, high-intensity beam happen, after all.

“Hey, Bastille.” Jacques idly called out with such a casual greeting, that everyone else idly thought if something was going to happen. “Did you also happen to dislocate any of your limbs?”

“Hmm.” Bastille hummed, and moved his body about. He winced at some points and stopped moving whenever he did, but gave a slight shake of his head. “Nope. Only a couple fractures, I think. And maybe some scratches.”

“Dammit.” Their party leader sighed in disappointment. “It would have been funny to see Marcus do his trick on you.”

The Sorcerer only tilted his head with some minor confusion at his words.

“Why do you sound like you want him to get his limbs set as well?!” Clara asked, her voice raised with annoyance. Then, Bastille’s eyes narrowed, before he glared at the Swordsman. “Hearing your bones snap in place was one too many for me, already!”

Crack. Tobias idly cracked his knuckles, and everyone slowly turned to him. Bastille and Jacques had mild amusement in their faces, while Clara only bore a horrified expression – before realizing what happened. Then she bore an angry, flushed expression.

“I have reason to believe that you’re an idiot.” Jacques commented.

“But can’t say that wasn’t pretty funny.” Bastille added, and both of their amused expressions only promised that he’d hear it from her.

And then – Clara ranted. While the Swordsman and Sorcerer laughed, Tobias only bore an almost too indifferent expression in his face, even if he did wince occasionally at the Archer’s words.

Some of those words hit a bit too close, and he had feelings too, really...

***

Their party of four now strolled along the empty castle walls. The gigantic gates were opened for them the moment they used their key, and now, they observed the painted walls, with the (supposedly intended) order of viewing.

The first painting, they saw the primordial state of the world, where men and beasts fought for survival in a lawless, chaotic world. If men weren’t standing up on two legs and wielding crude spears, then they might have been mistaken for beasts – for they wore cloaks of fur from beasts themselves, and had a savage disposition themselves.

The second painting, they saw four painted, angelic beings descend from the heavens, and seemed to give man assorted things of sorts. One of them gave man a strange contraption filled with sand. Another gave man a stick lit on fire. Yet another gave man a small sapling. And the last one gave man a tome.

“Who are those?” Tobias asked.

“Oh, those? Those are the four Gods of Humanity. Kairos, the God of Time. Aestus, the God of Fire and Light. Terra, the Goddess of Earth and Plants. And finally, Scire, the Goddess of Knowledge.” Bastille helpfully supplied.

“I see.” His village... they praised Terra, he idly remembered. Before harvests, they would conduct prayers for her, and after harvests, they would thank her. The Festival of Flowers was supposed to be a tribute for her – or something like that. He really didn’t participate in any of those.

The third painting, they saw man begin to group together. They built small communities of their own, and were now armed with bows and arrows, no longer relying on such brute strength to survive.

The fourth painting, they saw man turn into humanity, and built a kingdom for themselves. A figure with a crown was on the top of such castle, and seemed to be praised by all.

“Who is that?” Tobias asked.

“Caesar Kaius.” Bastille replied. “The First King of Humanity’s first Empire, as far as History is concerned.” And those words were enough to satisfy his curiosity, so he didn’t ask any more.

The fifth painting, they saw the kingdom turn into ashes and dust, as people seemed to flee from the ruins of the kingdom.

“The Great Human War. How typical of humanity to have one of its greatest empires fall at some point...” Bastille muttered, but didn’t add anything else. Well, at least Tobias knew what to call such event. And with name in mind, it only made sense.

And finally, the sixth painting, they saw four smaller kingdoms, where humanity seemed to be content for now.

“It really looks like a record of history.” Clara pointed out, and their resident Sorcerer gave a nod.

“You already said that before. But yeah.” He pointed out. The Archer gave a pleased hum to herself.

“So humanity has four kingdoms?” Tobias asked.

Bastille turned around to give him a soft, reprimanding glare, as if silently telling him ‘how could you not know this?’. And then, he let out a soft, defeated sigh and shook his head, possibly to clear the thoughts in his head.

“Yeah, humanity has four kingdoms scattered around the world.” He finally said.

“I see.” Tobias nodded, and didn’t ask anymore. Maybe he just didn’t feel like listening anymore, having already understood the basic history of humanity. Or maybe he just felt like not making the Sorcerer suffer through exasperation, or something like that.

It wasn’t really his interest to inquire more about it. It wasn’t like he’s going to leave this particular City or Kingdom anytime soon, after all.

And finally, they returned back to the room where they started. The white door with a golden plaque was still there, ready to be opened as it always was. And right in front of it – was a large, wooden chest, which was largely brown aside from the key hole used to unlock it.

“Dungeon rewards?” Tobias asked.

“Dungeon rewards.” Jacques and Bastille answered in sync.

Then just like that, they all strode towards the chest swiftly. Tobias brought out the key, and everyone stepped aside to let him open it. Slotting in the silver key, he turned it, and the chest opened with a soft click.

Inside was a lot of copper coins, with some few silver coins mixed about. But either way, they all looked at it, and while Tobias and Clara were excited to see it, Bastille and Jacques only let out small, almost dissatisfied sighs to themselves.

“No Artifact.” Jacques intoned, letting out a sigh.

“No Relic either.” Bastille echoed, with a sadness which seemed unusual for his character.

But nonetheless, they all took sacks from their bags (which was prepared before hand), and took in great scoops of the coins. There was enough coins to fill up two sacks, so they divided it evenly across four sacks.

So in the end, they had four, half-filled sacks of coins, and with a nod, they all shoved it in their bags.

“We would not worry about money anytime soon now, would we?” Tobias asked, and everyone paused to think to themselves.

“Well, in a nutshell.” Bastille said. “But according to my estimations, the total value of this chest is only... twenty silver coins a sack, excluding the actual silver coins themselves.”

“I see.” Tobias nodded. Even if it was weighty, the fact that most of it were copper coins only made it heavier than its actual value was. A single golden coin was probably more valuable than their combined rewards.

But for now, it was simply good enough.

Magical Dungeons were dangerous. He of all people understood it that much, but it seemed like the rewards outweighed the costs, some would say.

And to think that this was only a Tier 2 Dungeon... Tobias idly wondered how much the higher tier dungeons would even reward adventurers for.

Well, he’ll know when he’ll get there.

And besides... it wasn’t exactly the rewards he was after. It was the experience – the battle experience and sense of strength it gave him. To defeat each dungeon and to become stronger was his true end goal.

After all... His first Magical Dungeon led him to talk with Death, and his quest now was to earn their respect through gaining strength.

Yes... That Stone-like Knight was a sufficient challenge. But something told him that Bastille had some sort of cheat about him... Well, it didn’t really matter. That only made him an excellent Sorcerer, no?