39

As they kept walking in torchlit silence, it became progressively harder and harder for Hunter to keep track of how much time had passed. Each corridor blended in with the next, each hall was identical to the last. It was as if both time and space had a different meaning down there in the cool, sterile darkness of the Halls. Once or twice they came across small groups of low-dwellers, but the were-buffalo dispatched them with an absent-minded brutality that was borderline more frightening than anything that could be lurking in the dark halls around them.

After what had felt like a small eternity, Brother Aurochs led them to a chamber different than almost any other they’d seen. This one was wider, and its ceiling was higher. Huge carvings of indecipherable runes and sigils covered the floor and walls–and maybe the ceiling too, Hunter suspected. And at its other end there were a couple of towering double doors, much like the ones they’d crossed both at the entrance to the Halls and the entrance to the lower levels. Whatever was behind those, it was Important–capital “I” important.

“We have arrived” Sister Peregrine turned around and told them, her voice hollow. “Whatever has happened to Sister Finch, whatever madness has overtaken her… she’s here. Just past those doors. She must be.”

Hunter threw a glance at Fawkes. If this was a dungeon, and it sure looked like it was, what lay ahead would likely be very dangerous. He wouldn’t mind some time to prepare if it made no difference, even if it was to simply catch his breath.

“If it’s all the same to you, I could use a few moments to prepare”, he said.

“Is it important?” Sister Peregrine asked, visibly on edge. “I would rather we did not tarry any longer than we have to.”

“It is”, Hunter said. “It has to do with my… nature. You know. With being a Transient. If there’s danger ahead, I want to have all my bases covered as best as I can.”

The woman’s mouth became a thin, hard line, but she nodded.

“Alright. But do make haste.”

She didn’t have to say that twice. Hunter walked over to the double doors ahead, closed his eyes, and let his mind reach out to them. It was as he had suspected; they were the focal point of a Place of Power. Had they been outside, it would have called to his senses like a beacon in the dark. Down there, however, among the energy-saturated enchantments and the ever-present heartbeat of the Halls, it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d missed it altogether.

Do you wish to anchor yourself to this place of power?

Yes. He did.

Something reached back at him through the link he’d established and tugged at his core, binding it to the ambient power around the doors.

You are now anchored to this Place of Power.

You receive the Blessing of the Inner Sanctum, a spark born of the Transmundane. Your Aether quality is now 800.

More Aether. That was good. He’d already been sitting on a solid 600 Aether, enough to buy him some pretty decent upgrades to his Attributes. He’d been putting spending them off for far too long, for fear of wasting them in something suboptimal and gimping his character build. It was about time he did something with it. He found a quiet spot, sat down cross-legged and with his eyes closed, and tried to empty his mind. It took him a moment; these things weren’t meant to be rushed. When he finally managed to find that inner peace and focus withing, he was greeted with a notification.

Your Meditation has increased to 2.

Now that he had the chance, Hunter pulled up his notifications from earlier, too. Not that there were many of those; he’d gained a couple of ranks in his Conjure Familiar Ability, which was now at 19, as well as three more in his Low-Light Vision, which had reached a respectable 22. He’d half-expected that to grant him access to a new Ability, just us how Survival had made Wildcrafting available for him to learn once it had hit 20. This time, however, he got nothing. It could be because Low-Light Vision was itself an Ability, whereas Survival was a Skill. Or it could just be that the way things worked in Elderpyre was arbitrary and confusing by design. Go figure.

Most interesting by far was the fact that he’d gained a whopping 6 points in his newly-acquired Toughness Ability. That brought it up to 7, and his Health total to 107. He hadn’t expected just running to contribute to his Toughness growth, but apparently the exertion was intense enough to qualify. Again, go figure.

Which led him to the meat-and-potatoes of the whole thing, and more-or-less the purpose of his meditation; the chance to tinker with his stats. His Character Sheet window popped open before him, and he started to pour all the Aether he had to increase his Health Atrribute. More Health meant it would be harder for stuff to kill him dead, and that was a good thing, right?

Right.

Initially, he thought that each hundred points of Aether would get him a single point of, say, Strength or Willpower, or ten points of Health. Things turned out to be a bit more complicated than that, though; each consequent increase of an Attribute cost 10% more than the last. This meant that he could pump his Health to 110 for just 100 Aether, but further increasing it to 120 would cost an additional 110, and to reach 130 would cost him another 121 on top of that. It made sense; diminishing returns were a staple in many crunchy games he’d played.

After doing some math in his head, he decided that investing everything in his Health wasn’t a great idea at that point–not with all those increasing costs and diminishing returns. He increased it to 147 (that final 7 was a bonus he gained from his Toughness Ability) and used almost all of the rest of his Aether to increase his Stamina to 130. These weren’t the most creative upgrades to his character, but he sooner or later had to do something with all that Aether he’d been hoarding. How did that old saying go? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, or something like that. He’d rather face whatever lay behind those doors somewhat unoptimized rather than completely unprepared.

So there he was, finally fully upgraded and with virtually no Inspiration or Aether to spend on additional Skills and Attribute upgrades. He was about to stand up ans go tell Fawkes and the Brethren he was ready to go, when he remembered; there was another thing he might as well try–a little arts and crafts project. He opened his backpack, made sure nobody was looking, reached for the Kannewik’s severed head, and plucked a handful of ancient, brittle hair.

This time around, creating a transmutation circle proved to be a much simpler process; his Craft Spirit Charm was at a considerably higher rank of 6 now compared to the measly 1 it had been the first time he’d tried to create a charm. Crafting a Corpse Hair Charm was easier than crafting and enchanting a Bone Charm, too. His fingers deftly wove the dead hairs as if they had life of their own. It wasn’t much different than weaving a cat’s cradle, like he’s mom had taught him when he was a snot-nosed five-year-old. Not half a minute later, Hunter was holding an intricate, mildly disturbing jumble of a long-dead man’s hair tied in knots. As a final touch, he summoned his mana and infused the knots and weaves with as much of it as they could hold.

There, all ready.

You have created a Kannewik Corpse Hair Charm.

Your Craft Spirit Charm has increased to 8.

Your Occultism has increased to 10.

He took the completed charm and placed it in the front pocket of its poncho. Hopefully, simply carrying it on him would be enough for its protective enchantment to work. Even more hopefully, he wouldn’t have to find out anytime soon. As ready as he was going to be, he rose to his feet, patted himself down, and turned to look at Fawkes. She’d been sitting at the other end of the hall, watching him do his arts and crafts with great interest. Hunter nodded at her, and she nodded back.

It was time to see what this whole Halls Of The Cor Ancestors mystery was about, be done with whatever it was that Arjen and the Brethren expected them to do down there, and finally go find Reiner.