[51]

Four enormous wolves appeared around their wounded mate as if by magic. For all I knew, it was magic. One second, Ugz and I waited alone in the globe of darkness, the next they surrounded us. A large tree was behind me, but I looked quickly to confirm there were no wolves hiding behind us. Thankfully, it was just the four, a big enough challenge already.

The spirit beasts were not stupid creatures. Between the impenetrable globe of darkness and their wounded pack mate, they warily stayed at a range just outside of my poleaxe.

Two stood next to each other near the wolf I savaged. The other two spread out to either flank of the globe, forming a half circle. I hit one of the two in the center with Haunt, causing it to flatten its ears and yelp. The companion standing next to it jumped backward, searching for the threat, and the other two began growling in support.

Ugz shot on to the tree nearest the one to our left. Except for the hexed wolf, the others turned to look at the flying newt. A second later, I felt the wolf near Ugz get crushed under Hypnotize.

The haunted wolf turned on its bewildered companion, snapping at a hallucination. I took advantage of its distraction, leaning out over the edge of darkness and swinging my poleaxe down at the paw of the non-hexed wolf. My blade came in low, neatly severing the leg of the spirit beast before angling upward into the snout of the wolf under my curse.

Seeing a visible target, the one from my right rushed in to capitalize on my sudden appearance. Fearlessly, the spirit beast leapt at me but became disoriented once it entered my darkness field. The monster flew behind me, barely missing me with its massive jaws. Instead, it latched down on the branch of the tree behind me, snarling and yanking the wood with vicious shaking. Capitalizing on another mistake, I swung the poleaxe around into the blinded wolf's side, smashing into its ribcage with a satisfying crunch.

The hexed wolf had enough, bolting from its pack mates while snapping at shadows with a bloodied snout. It took little effort to finish the three remaining.

I fell to the ground on my ass, breathing heavily and falling into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” I told Ugz, who had already climbed back into my shirt. Taking on four spirit beasts was a feat I never even dreamed of. It was a testament to how far I had come in such a short time.

After a quick break, I drank some water, then resumed my march toward an unknown outpost.

Night had fallen, and I could not be more thankful for my ability to see in the dark. Even before the sun dipped away, the forest was already dark. Now it was almost pitch black. I could not imagine how a student without my ability could clear this dungeon level. It would be horrific.

I trudged onward in what I believed to be the right direction. Hours passed in the mindscape, and inevitably my thoughts returned to my father’s wellbeing.

A feeling of intense uselessness wrestled with my sadness. “Why am I in this stupid dungeon and not out looking for my father?” was a common refrain in the chorus of worry. I wanted to book a ride on an arcanorail and ride out to Weston as soon as they returned my letter. Yet, I had not.

What was stopping me? Fear? I despaired at being a coward. Just positing that I was avoiding the truth, like I had so many things in my life, left me feeling wracked with guilt for the things I had not yet done. Still, a rational part whispered to me that the destruction of my hometown happened days ago. There was nothing to do.

What if my father was out there and needed me? An utterly useless sentiment. I had no information on his whereabouts, no sign that he was alive, and only a vague irrational hatred pointing towards a responsible party.

Was this all my fault? Reynold may well have had nothing to do with it. There was this hateful desire to place the blame for this at my own feet that I could not rationalize. Even if Reynold were responsible, that would not make it my fault.

Dead were my fantasies of returning home, as the beautiful, successful ascendent. Where before, I dreamed of rubbing my success into the face of my lifelong tormentors, now I anguished over their unfortunate end. Day after day, night after night, I prayed viciously for them to suffer as they made me, but even then, I did not want them mercilessly slaughtered and burned.

Right? I wanted to believe that, but I am not sure it was true. Several, I wished death upon. You got what you wanted, a hateful thought whispered, reigniting my guilt.

Dawn brightened the surrounding forest. Lost in my thoughts, I marched through the entire night, powered by the tireless fuel of my anxiety. I pushed past the low-hanging branches of a snow-covered tree and into a scene from hell itself.

The sun had not come. A village burned brightly under the destructive fires of an invading force. Atop the unfortunate town was a stone fortress burning like a star. Armored barbarian knights cut screaming peasants, while defenders on the wall jumped to their deaths seeking to avoid the flames. It was an absolute massacre.

Just how I imagined my hometown.

There is nothing I could do for my father. I accepted, crying in exasperation. My knees felt weak, and I fell to the ground in helplessness. I was too late; I failed.

I realized something at that moment. The true guilt that lies in the center of my regret was that I had not told him goodbye. “I’m going to bed,” was the last thing I said to the only person I loved, the man who had given me everything, and it was a lie.

How many nights had he laid in bed wondering if his only family, his son, his legacy was safe? Wracked with worry, just like I was now.

“Vascora, please let him be safe,” I whispered in prayer, wondering if my goddess would hear me from the faraway depths of this ancient memory.

“Your gods won’t save you, boy. They are weak.” A rough voice called to me.

Startled, I leapt to my feet, holding my poleaxe at the ready.

Before me stood what was once a man. Clad in ragged robes, not unlike what we wore at Ashmere, was a demon given life. Cracked black scales replaced skin, interrupted by intermittent placement of spines on his person. Large blood red owl-like eyes stared back into mine, over a too wide human mouth. Despite the appalling magical mutations, the man still had a beautiful head of purple hair that draped down his neck like silk.

“You are a demon.” I stated. Faced with a legendary foe, an unexpected calmness spread through my stomach. The danger of the illusion washed away the turmoil of the world.

“I hate that word,” the demon snarled. “A slur you utter for what you do not understand.”

“Explain it to me then,” I said, buying time so my eyes could search for other enemies.

“There is no point. I smell the stink of your goddess upon you,” the man said, lifting a bloody axe from his belt. He cocked his head as though deciding something. “You will never submit.”

Finding no other foes, I nodded in agreement. A duel to the death then.

Haunt took root less than a breath later.

“Yaaghh!” the demon yelled, seeming to ignore my curse, charging at me with his axe raised.

Ugz scurried from under my robe and launched himself in ball form at my attacker in a move that caught us both by surprise. His shelled body slammed into the wide-brimmed nose of the demon, throwing off the aim of his axe swing.

A second later the two-handed axe slammed deep into the earth beside me. Wanting to use my Hypnotize, I released my poleaxe’s weapon configuration and tackled my opponent around his waist. The two of us crashed to the ground, with me on top.

My fist slammed into his face twice while he fought to get from under me. I could tell the demon was much stronger than I was but having been trained by Master Rohan to use leverage, I could stop him from escaping under my hips with my body weight.

Pain flared as my knuckles smashed into his scaled brow a third time. The demon made a hissing noise after a fourth hit ripped a scale off his nose. A moment later, I felt a pain in my side after the subhuman monster slammed one spine from his forearm into my side. Because of the mage armor, the attack did not penetrate deep, and served to only enrage me further.

Tactics went out the window as I felt something snap in my mind. Before I knew it, my dagger was in my hand, and I was slamming it down into my adversary over and over. Black blood sprayed across my face and arms, and I screamed in incoherent anger. Gore had made it into my wide-open mouth, but still I did not stop. I drove the dagger into the corpse's neck so many times the head fell off. Only then did I finally collapse in exhaustion.

Instructor Ivo stood over me. “You passed,” he said emotionlessly.

My mouth was dry, so I took a drink from my waterskin. They designed the dungeon for us to fail; I decided. Ashmere wanted us to know what was at stake, to see what would happen to civilization if the powers of Ruin had their way.

Raxx was awake in the chair next to me, giving me a look that took a moment to comprehend. I knew what he wanted me to understand. A want consumed me to act in the face of regret. The nature of my grief demanded I do something, anything. The dungeon was not a mere distraction, like I had believed; he meant the experience to be an outlet for my pain.

I nodded to him.

“Instructor Ivo,” I said. “Can I run through F-3 again?”

“Yes.” the old man said simply, but I caught something in his eye. Respect, I concluded.

I spent my last ten contribution points and went in again.