Training and hunting for a door took the pair deeper into the floor. The plains and hills were more comfortable to traverse than the previous floors’ terrain. As a result, it wasn’t just Bunty that could comfortably travel further from the hub, but other Climbers too. Every door the pair approached on the first day, had a DeLawney settlement already present or growing around it. Gwyneth didn’t want to risk getting spotted by their watchtowers or sneak in. So, they maintained a wide berth.

On the bright side, the pair got more comfortable with their new tools throughout the day. Gwyneth’s suggestion proved correct. The staff didn’t fit Bunty’s fighting style at all. A spearhead or blade would be a different story, but the ink weapon was a detriment in its current state. Whipping, grabbing or binding foes with the Slimeskin tentacle gave him too significant an advantage in battle to pass up. Perhaps that would change once they faced larger beasts, but he was happy with the whip for the time being.

Every fight increased Gwyneth’s confidence with her spear. Once she realised how powerful the weapon could be with a charged blade, she committed to improving her skills with it. The attack spell’s drain on the lamp’s resource pool and her mental energy was too much. She preferred to not use it altogether in the little exchanges they had with gremlins, frog-creatures and stray lizardmen scouts.

Besides improving the individual skills, the pair worked on their teamwork too. While with her former party, Gwyneth’s focus had been staying on the backlines and sniping targets or providing cover for her teammates. Now, she had to learn to match Bunty’s. Flowing around her enemies to slip into their blind spots was too advanced a technique for her. So, Gwyneth focused on marking off an area as her territory. She’d draw enemies in and then keep them off balance using the charged spearhead and lamp. Meanwhile, Bunty would dance around her, ensuring she never had to deal with more than two targets at once.

After each skirmish, he’d talk Gwyneth through the fight, pointing out where she could’ve used a different form or approached a situation differently. She, in turn, would suggest more applications for the Slimeskin. Bunty wasn’t using the three command spells nearly enough. He recalled my training sessions with Baba being much rougher as far as criticism was concerned. He’d go harder on Bunty than his other students, and as a teenager, he’d retaliate in kind. With Gwyneth, there were no egos to hurt or unfulfilled expectations. The pair accepted that they both had shortcomings and would need to work together to improve.

Darkness came much later than Bunty expected, he had read that the days and nights on the fifth floor were much longer than standard. So, when it came, he was exhausted. Twelve hours had passed since they entered Gaia Ark and dusk had just started settling in. The pair kept going under the moonlight until Gwyneth spotted a cave hidden under a grassy hill.

“How the hell did you spot that through the vines and drooping branches?” Bunty asked, eyes wide. “My eyes jumped straight to the pretty stream and the weeping willow’s drooping branches. I’d never have spotted the opening without you.”

“It’s my spirit,” she said. “I think. Gaia has never said anything about it, but the lamp is tempering my eyesight.” She looked at the ground thoughtfully as the pair trekked towards their shelter for the night. “The world became somewhat sharper after I got my spirit, but I thought it was all in my head. Ever since I absorbed the Core, though, things have improved significantly. Have you noticed anything similar?”

“No,” Bunty answered after taking a moment to think about it. Then he thought about his fights against the spiders and mole. Perhaps his good fortune during them had nothing to do with luck. “I might be grasping at straws here, but my reflexes and reaction time have increased. Thanks to my training, I’ve always been good at close combat, but ever since I got my spirit, things have been much easier. Before I only worked on instinct, my mind struggled to keep up with my body. Now, I can plan my moves during a fight.”

“Huh. I think I’m starting to understand Arthur more as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was obsessive about his research and studies. Once he put together a hypothesis, his brain wouldn’t let him rest until he found an answer.” Gwyneth sighed as she talked about her father. “I think I’ve got the same bug now. If we’re both experiencing the same thing, it’s possible that Gaia makes changes to our mind and body in line with the spirits. They’re oddly thematic. Lamps are sources of illumination, so I see better. Perhaps with time, I’ll understand the world more than the average joe too. A pen is a tool of creation and study. So, it affects your brain, speeding up the rate at which you think and process information.” A smile spread across her lips. There were tears in Gwyneth’s eyes, and Bunty didn’t understand why. “It’s farfetched, and I might be wrong, but I bloody well want to collect data and figure this out. The DeLawneys were right. I’m my father’s daughter, after all.”

“I didn’t know your father and have little knowledge about your life so far, but that doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I don’t particularly get along with mine, but I’d be proud to turn out as half the man he is.”

“It’s not the worst thing,” Gwyneth said, looking away so Bunty couldn’t see her face. “He was a man of bad habits, but that doesn’t mean he was a bad man.”

The lamp spirit took the lead when entering the cave. Bunty followed it, his axe at the ready. Fortunately, it was empty. They still studied every nook and cranny for peace of mind, ensuring nothing used it as a lair. The last thing either of them wanted was for a beast to sneak up on them while one of them slept. Bunty also worried it could be an entryway into a deeper cave system. He could find any connecting tunnels or holes, but there were too many stories starring hidden passageways and entrances.

“Should we start a fire?” Gwyneth asked.

“No,” Bunty replied, shaking his head. “A smoke trail is much too easy to follow in such open terrain. Are you cold?”

“I’m not, but the night is long, and it only gets colder. I don’t want either of us getting cold.”

“Well, there is no ventilation in here,” Bunty said, inspecting the ceiling. “The green curtain will trap the smoke inside as well. I’m not sure we can afford it tonight. The Slimeskin coat will keep me warm.” He patted the thicker bits over his chest. Bunty wasn’t sure if it worked or not, but despite the thickness, the coat had kept him cool all day. He did write about the garment protecting him from the elements. Hopefully, it would keep him warm too. “Why don’t you huddle up in the far corner until it’s your turn to keep watch? Keep your spirit out and use the light to keep you warm.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Gwyneth raised an eyebrow. She walked over to her spirit and held her hands up to it. The light dimmed, but the golden filigree glowed a moment later. “The light isn’t all that warm, but if I circulate the energy through the metal, it should heat up.”

Science wasn’t Bunty’s strong suit, but he took her word on that matter. He and Gwyneth ate silently, sitting at the cave mouth and watching the moonlight hills. The tall grass danced in the winds and a familiar longing tugged at Bunty’s heart. He thought of the Boleyn twins. He’d been so focused on fixing Alexander’s uncertain fate and getting stronger that Victoria had slipped out of his mind. He wished she were there to enjoy the landscape with him. They’d enjoy the sight together and perhaps share a kiss.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“What?” Gwyneth asked, making him jump. Lost in thought, he’d almost forgotten about her presence.

“Nothing.” He laughed. “I was just in thought thinking about my friends.”

“Are these friends the nobles you grew up with?”

Bunty nodded. “Before you jump to conclusions, they’re not the typical sort. Well, their younger brother is, and Lord Graham is a pushover, but Alexander and Victoria are a different sort. They don’t give a damn about a person’s station and treat everyone fairly.”

“You love them, don’t you?”

“Well, after my brother died, Alexander became the closest thing I had to one. Now he’s at death’s door, and no one can fix him.” Bunty sighed. “He’s why I’m in a rush to get to the twelfth floor. My brother’s journal talks of a plant monster up there with healing sap. We encountered the same beast hidden on the ground floor, and it brought the twins back from the verge of death. If we can find it, Alexander will be saved.”

“And Victoria? Is she like a sister?” Gwyneth grinned, narrowing her eyes.

Bunty playfully bumped her with his shoulder. She chuckled and bumped him back. “Honestly? I don’t know.” He sighed. “If things were different, I think we would’ve been together. I had Alexander’s blessing. My family line isn’t the worse, so I think Lord Graham didn’t mind either.”

“But then the house turned their back on you?”

“Victoria tried standing up for me, but in my opinion, it wasn’t enough. She could’ve fought harder. I understand that she wanted to support her father, but it was clear he didn’t believe the allegations brought up against me either.” Bunty clenched his fist and rolled the crick out of his neck. Hurt and anger flowed through his body like a shiver, leaving goose-pimples in their wake. “Edgar—the youngest Boleyn—and I never got along. He wanted me gone. If Alexander doesn’t make it, he’s going to be the next heir. I recently found out that he’s befriended someone important in the DeLawney house too. Lord Graham turned his back on me to appease his troglodyte turd of a son.”

“And money,” Gwyneth said. “People, especially the nobility, will turn their back on their dearest for money and power. That’s what’s happened here. I’m surprised your father is still working for them.”

“He wants to leave, but has stayed on my request,” Bunty told her. “My father is making sure Edgar doesn’t finish off Alexander to cement his position. Besides, he has other responsibilities too.”

Gwyneth didn’t say much else while they finished the meal. Since her body wasn’t used to prolonged travel and close combat, she went to bed first. Bunty didn’t mind. He got his notebook out and started sketching a summon to replace the staff. Gwyneth’s idea regarding the gauntlet felt perfect. Bunty had been opposed to a shield since it would limit him too much during battle. However, an armoured glove would let him grapple, use his axe two-handed and even punch if needed.

As suggested, he worked the pen into the design. Bunty had envisioned it and tried, but, in the end, he concluded that tentacles could only sprout from the pen. No matter how much he willed it, new Slimeskin parts would not grow from his coat or staff. The pen would sit along his forearm, just below the wrist. That way, when he did summon a tentacle, it would sprout through his hand, letting him grab and manipulate it as he wished.

Dissatisfied with the first version, Bunty did a second sketch too. The gauntlet would need to serve as much more than a glove and grabbing tool. He gave it curved bump that extended from above the wrist to over the knuckles. It took some figuring out, and a few practise sketches, but he managed to think up a version that wouldn’t affect his wrist or finger’s mobility but would still protect the joints.

Once done, Bunty wrote a short story about the summon just as he had about the coat. Thoughts of the Boleyns still fresh on his mind, he wrote about a final showdown with Edgar.

I never thought I’d see the day when Edgar, of all people, disarmed me. His mace slipped through my guard and grazed my right wrist. As expected of blunt weapons striking a joint, it made my digits spasm, and the axe fell out of my hands. Then, the wild-eyed arsehole started his onslaught, coming at me with blow after blow.

The DeLawney Climbers I faced before him had successfully tired me out. Now, I struggled to keep up with Edgar, let alone dodge his attacks. So, I turned to my spirit and summoned the humblest of my creations: the armoured gauntlet. Edgar’s eyes widened when his overhead swinging glanced off the curved guard. Even though the Slimeskin’s outer surface was hard, the material inside remained soft and gelatinous. It absorbed most of the blunt force, letting me knock away attack after attack.

As Edgar got angrier and more desperate to put me down, his attacks got wider and more frantic. His breathing got erratic, and sweat washed away the manic grin. Then, during a back-handed swing, his footing faltered. That’s when I made my move.

“Stiffen,” I whispered, clenching my fist. The joints and soft material in the gauntlet hardened, locking my hand into the position. The guard stuck out half-an-inch in front of my knuckles, forming a sharp edge.

First, I grabbed Edgar’s extended left wrist in my empty right hand. Then I pulled, taking away any chance of him regaining his balance. Then a powerful left hook struck his right temple, caving in his over-sized skull. The youngest Boleyn crumpled, and I hoped his family would forgive me for what I’d been forced to do.

Bunty sighed, finishing the short piece. He’d read the word cathartic before, but never quite understood the feeling until he dotted the final sentence with a period. He believed Edgar deserved a lot worse, but for his friends’ sake, if it ever came to it, he’d make it quick. Bunty double-checked the drawing and read through the piece again before summoning the gauntlet. The initial attempts failed, and he couldn’t figure out why. Then it occurred to him that spirit only had two summoning spots, and they were both full. So, he envisioned the staff melting into black ink and reforming as the gauntlet.

When Bunty tried summoning the tool a second time, the fountain pen slipped out of his left hand as ink poured from the nib. It slid down to his forearm according to design, and the solidifying ink held it in place. Unlike the coat, the summon formed in layers. First came the soft, dry glove that covered everything from the tip of his finger to the elbow. Then solid segments started developing over it. Little plates of solid ink formed all along his forearm, on the back of his wrists and over the backs of his fingers too. They only covered the space between the knuckles and first joints. When he punched, those were the bits most likely to suffer damage.

Finally, a black slime grew from Bunty’s wrist. It widened around the joint, remaining fluid to enable rotation and extended a third-way down his forearm. The slime lost height as the rest of its body expanded to cover the back of his hand and knuckles. Then the outer surfaces hardened forming the guard he desired. Bunty had written it into the piece, but he hoped the armour’s ability to crumple and then bounce back would reduce the strain on his arm.

Much to Bunty disappointment, a sharp edge didn’t form where the curving guard ended. Instead, he ended up with a blunt lip. It would most likely break bones but not sever flesh. He hoped the spirit would let him get away with it if he wrote a good enough tale. After hearing what the upgrade station had offered for Eirkh’s Core, Gwyneth confirmed his hypothesis. Bunty would get access to blades and edges after his next upgrade. Hopefully, it would manifest as an element for his summons instead of a utility spell.

“That’s a much better-looking summon,” Gwyneth said, making Bunty jump. She sat next to him on the soft earth, looking out into the moonlit night. The weeping willow hung in front of them like a curtain. Gwyneth ran her finger along the gauntlet. “It’s warm, she commented. I think you’ll get a tonne of use out of this.”

“I hope so too.” Bunty nodded, watching her fingers explore the gauntlet. “Why are you awake already? You’ve got another hour.”

Gwyneth checked her pocket watch. “Seven-and-a-half hours are enough for me,” she said. “I’ve lived on this floor for some time now. I’m used to the odd day and night cycles. Arthur and I always went to bed around sundown and awoke around this time. He liked to work while everybody slept.” She pushed him playfully. “Go on. Rest up. We’ll start at the crack of dawn and rush towards one of the poorly policed doors.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bunty told her. “How many settlements did we pass earlier? Almost a dozen? If you’re correct and each of them has a second or third interval Climber to support the firsts, we don’t stand a chance.”

“What do you suggest then?” Gwyneth raised an eyebrow, turning her eyes to him.

“We spend a day or two traversing deeper into the floor.” Bunty got out his guidebook and opened to the floor’s map. Gwyneth had marked the location of every DeLawney settlement on it, and apparently, there were more growing. Bunty tapped the bit marked by a hyena drawing. “We’ll find our answer here. It’s far enough from the hub to make it a chore to get to. It’s likely the organised tribes keep most patrols away too. Either we find a vulnerable shaman or spirit caller, or we get past them and target a powerful beast.”

“If we can’t access the current doors, we can impress Gaia—”

“And she’ll make a temporary one for us,” Bunty said, finishing Gwyneth’s sentence. “I’m not all brawn am I?” He grinned.

“Good thinking, Brains,” Gwyneth chuckled. “Now go get some sleep. If we do this, tomorrow’s not going to be an easy day.”