The mutant woman writhed on the floor even as a viscous fluid sludged from the large wound in her chest. Leornal didn’t want to think about what would have happened if that had been a fairer fight; her speed and resistance were frightening. Once again though, Mason had shown almost no reservation in putting his all into a desperate scheme for victory. It was equally as endearing as it was frustrating, and the archer found himself unsure what to make of his accidental companion.

Leornal prodded Mason with the end of his bow to make sure he hadn’t killed himself with that kamikaze move and Mason twitched and groaned on the ground in response. Reassured, Leornal left him there, and made his way through the plants to the spot the mutant had been digging up when Mason crept up on her.

He shifted the dirt with his foot, but only found more dirt beneath it, webbed with pale roots that made it difficult to pull apart. He saw Mason’s sword a few feet off and retrieved it to use as a shovel, cutting through the roots and then pulling the dirt up in chunks. It took a little more digging than he had originally committed to before he made any serious headway, but sure enough in time the sword made a dull clanking noise as it struck something hard and metallic.

Using his hands, he cleared more of the dirt off to get a better look at what he had uncovered. There was a metal lid covered in simple runes which pulled mana from several stones bound to the surface of the box. It was no wonder the mutant had been digging hard to find this, though it was fairly surprising she hadn’t discovered it sooner. He wondered idly if the city had been in a deeper sleep than he suspected before he powered up that console, but figured it was too late to do anything about it.

Digging deeper, he found the edges of the lid on the box and pulled, opening up a small container filled with a few strange objects.

On top of everything else was a short sword of a pretty similar length to the one Mason used. Leornal prodded it with mana, and realized that there was a rechargable mana stone in the hilt, and a rune that improved the mana conductivity of the blade, but nothing else that really stood out about it. Most likely the sword was used to be able to cast spells while fighting; a useful ability that wasn’t entirely uncommon.

If anything, given Mason’s proclivity toward mana-blade, it would make that skill a little more efficient for him.

Beneath it was a small golden disc with a domed opalite stone in the top. It looked a lot like a flying saucer, but the gold was clearly the same material as on the guardian orbs, so Leornal set that aside for Mason as well. He wasn’t willing to risk getting involved in the soul arts himself, but if Mason wanted to risk it, that was his prerogative.

Digging further in the box, Leornal found several potions that he couldn’t identify; one shimmered almost gold and silver, one was a bright pink, and one seemed a muddy brown. He kept these for himself. There were also more mana crystals of a refined variety- they were fairly similar to the stones used as currency on Marra, but the process that was used to refine them had to be much different because they looked and felt different in a way he couldn’t put his finger on.

He looked at the box closely, hoping to make out any secrets it may be hiding, but ultimately decided that it must have simply been someone’s emergency stash. It was built into the enchantment pattern that seemed to have maintained the life in this room so well, and he was impressed that someone would have used that enchantment to hide a cache. Glancing at the mutant, he wondered if that had been her idea, or if she were just hungry for mana when she stumbled upon it.

Trudging back over to Mason, he knelt down this time and shook the pale boy. Mason groaned, but seemed to rouse, and he put his hand over his face as he slowly came to.

“What the hell was that, Demon?” the archer asked less kindly than he had intended.

“Wh-what?” He replied groggily, sitting up slowly and looking about. “Are we out of the caves? Wait, no, there’s a forest on the surface. What are all these strange plants?”

Leornal frowned. This didn’t seem good. “Do you not remember the fight?”

“The fight?” Mason asked, looking exceptionally puzzled. He screwed up his face in thought and then after a second shouted, “Oh! With the ugly digging woman. Right.”

“Yeah, you kind of exploded in a burst of mana to try to take her down?”

Mason took a second to think about that, “Yeah, I guess it worked, then. I don’t feel dead, anyways.” He tried to stand, swayed, then collapsed back on his butt. “Okay, I kind of feel dead.”

Leornal suppressed a grin, and Mason smiled in response when he saw it. “That was a very dumb strategy. If I hadn’t been able to take her down immediately, what was stopping her from ripping you to shreds?”

Continuing to smile he explained, “Well, I mean, I pretty much banked on the hope that you would take her out with that big of an opening. I mean, she was too tough for me to stab, but she definitely wasn’t indestructible. On the other hand, I probably would have been torn to shreds if I had to fight her face to face anyways. I’m uh,” he looked sheepish, “Kind of exhausted?”

The archer knew he should feel sympathetic for this younger man who had persevered through some fairly serious encounters pretty steadily, but for some reason his admission of weakness just frustrated Leornal more. Was he truly weak? Was he secretly strong? He was unpredictable, and worse, somehow just kept hanging in there well past the point he should have been destroyed.

“Well get up and let’s get going. It’s your fault we’re trapped in this city and I’m not going to let you keep me here even longer because you can’t hold your own,” Leornal barked.

Mason’s face rotated through several expressions; shock, anger, disappointment, then finally resignation. He nodded and stood, saying simply, “Alright.”

Leornal growled. This boy was too much. He should have fought and said there was no chance he could continue. Why did he just put up with everything? “Nevermind, this room seems safe enough. At least the plants make for better company than broken stone and dust. I’d rather you get enough rest to be of some use later on.” Leornal dug a small crystal ball out of his bag which he used to read his novels, and slumped back amongst the plants.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Mason agreed, plopping down right where he had been standing and laying back over several other plants, completely unfazed by the dead body laying several feet away.

As they resumed their passage through the manor, Mason wished desperately for a warm bath and a cup of coffee. The dull chill that filled these caves was far more poignant after having left the warm, humid bio-room, and his exhaustion made the cold sink in even deeper to his bones.

His head felt heavy and his body felt slow, but he steeled himself and put on a show of confidence as he walked obediently behind his older companion. He was second-guessing his decision to prioritize stealth in that earlier challenge. Shadowstalk had come in handy in the Biord’s castle, but all of his fights had been direct and brutal here. He could have used the strength that would have come from the brute force challenge.

He considered the three he had currently: spellwork, footwork, and scourge of the gremlins. He felt pretty confident he had been working on all three, though perhaps footwork had been overlooked in that last fight. But he wished they would cash in quickly. The rewards they offered could very well make the difference in…

Mason’s thoughts were interrupted as he shifted his consciousness to focus and drew his staff quickly. Leornal had already backed up behind him and fired an arrow as a yeti charged up and threw its body weight at Mason. The shot had distracted the yeti-beast enough that Mason was able to deflect most of the force of the initial strike. He felt invigorated by way his blood pumped from the sudden threat, but there was a weakness in his muscles that he couldn’t ignore.

He remembered his footwork this time, and stepped around the beast, baiting it to swing at him even as he dodged another attack. The two almost looked like they were performing a practiced dance, and Mason was grateful that this time he was being fully backed up by Leornal, rather than outmatched by fighting two of these by his lonesome.

With the staff in his left hand for blocking and countering, Demon drew the new sword Leornal had found for him with his right. Mana-blade flowed more smoothly into the weapon than it had the simple steel sword, and he almost had to fight harder to rein in his mana than to keep the blade empowered. Cursing his small mana pool, he began to increase the speed of his steps, looking for an opening to strike.

Leornal fired a powershot and the yeti cringed away from the force of the blow, and in that moment of distraction Demon dug the blade into its shoulder and dragged it down its body. It roared in pain and reeled back further, but a chill shot down Demon’s spine and he felt his bloodlust rising. He stabbed forward again and carved another chunk from the yeti’s chest, then before it could bat him away he spun away and stabbed it in the side.

He cast stamina drain with the staff in his left hand, and watched the creature shrink into itself in its weakness, but that seemed to only inspire Demon’s assault. When all was said and done, it was riddled with punctures and lacerations and laid in ribbons on the floor at his feet.

Demon panted, wiping the blood off the sword and smiling as he focused on his pulse pumping through him. When had this become so much fun?

When Leornal stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, he jumped slightly and only barely managed to prevent himself from attacking out of instinct. He felt his sword raise, and saw the archer move back defensively, but then he just smiled sheepishly and sheathed the blade before someone got hurt.

“Sorry, I guess I just got riled up,” Mason explained casually, dismissing the bout of violence. There was no point in being surprised that he had started to grow accustomed to this world. He was attacked on his first day here, and almost every day since. Why shouldn’t he be ready to kill on a moment’s notice?

“You used far more of your energy than you needed to on that thing. I know we have mana crystals to spare now, but that’s no excuse to be reckless.”

“I just reacted, I’m sorry. You fired some pretty rapid shots yourself,” Mason argued.

Rather than argue the point, Leornal just shrugged and pointed on, but he knew there was more to be said later.

Mason did too. Sure enough, he had gained two points in glamour over the last two fights. It was strange than an ability he didn’t even know he was activating would be progressing so quickly. He had also gained two points in mana manipulation, mana-blade, and staff specialization, a point in blade specialization, footwork, stamina drain, focus, recovery, and even one in equip. Maybe he was just growing overall.

He took his mind off of it by fiddling with the golden saucer that Leornal had given him. The runes on it were similar to the guardians, but also similar to the sword in a way that gave him the impression this was the language of this city. Strange then, that runes didn’t translate the way voices did. And though the sword accepted his mana almost too readily, the saucer didn’t respond clearly to his probes at all. Twice he felt like he had sparked it with his mana, but that spark wouldn’t turn to anything meaningful.

There was definitely something hidden in it. His instincts, heightened by Analyze, screamed that at him. And judging by the fact that none of the other items were extremely valuable, but that whole cache seemed rather well hidden, Mason suspected this was the real treasure. Leornal wanted nothing to do with it though, certain that it was just moments away from stealing his soul.

It was strange that the Darkest Night were all so superstitious. Granted, soul-stealing was evidently a real thing, Mason highly doubted it was a common ability, and doubted even more that some strange little metal object would be able to do that on its own.

However, throwing more doubt on Mason’s confidence, it did seem like the guardian orbs were somehow related to trapped souls. The way those creatures talked when they were animated…

He was tempted to probe that with his mana too, possibly try awakening it just enough to interrogate it, but whenever he even took the orb out of his bag, Leornal forced him to put it back away.

The two traveled ever onwards, and on the rest of their way to the dome saw little of distinction beyond more ruined buildings and several more easily-dispatched yeti beasts. But they rightfully maintained their caution even as they stood on the bridge that would lead them into the dome.