Sidrick felt his reservoir growing with the almost constant use of ice and space magic. Holding the arrays in his mind’s eye was difficult. They weren’t exactly simple spells, even if the space one was supposed to be on paper. If he wasn’t careful, his sense of touch would be turned to eleven. A pebble in his shoe would become a boulder.

How his shoes had even survived all this was an incredible mystery to Sidrick. It was a blessing, really. The floor here wasn’t exactly smooth.

He sensed one of the dog monsters waiting to ambush him. Sidrick extended a limb of water to the ceiling. It crept around the corner, staying out of sight. It pooled over the monster as an ice spike formed at its center. The limb shot down, impaling the dog’s head in one swift motion.

Sidrick pulled the spider blood limb back to him. He had tried using some of the monster blood from this layer but it was too rich with mana. It would take an hour to purify it. More and more, Sidrick appreciated how lucky he’d gotten with the spider monsters. They were weak individually, leaving very little mana in their blood. Taking it over was nothing. The silver blood was easy to use too. Incredibly flexible, really. He just didn’t have enough of it.

I’m thinking like a blood mage, Sidrick thought, annoyed at the realization.

He turned the corner and snorted. He’d already found the exit room on his second trip, near the end of the first hour. Well, moving through a layer was always quick if you had the right magic.

He walked into the room and immediately noticed the shift in temperature. It was like a sauna.

Sidrick’s orb formed three spear-tipped limbs, each poised for battle. He slowly walked deeper into the room and looked up the central staircase. There was a white barrier blocking the way up. Something swirled inside it. Probably light magic, if the colorful glow was anything to go off of.

He didn’t dare get any closer, instead deciding to head back. His gut churned with anxiety.

“SIDRICK!!” the book suddenly cried.

Sidrick’s heart almost stopped. He didn’t hesitate to stab himself with a spear-tipped limb.

He woke up next to the Anchor. Layla was there. Everything seemed intact. The book…

Something slammed into the wall behind him, followed by the book’s panicked screams. Sidrick whipped around.

He saw the creature then.

Barely a foot tall, butterfly wings, horns, and yellow globes of light for eyes. Its teeth were sharp and translucent, reminding him of the ghosts’ glass knives. All the hairs on hls neck stood up. His instincts screamed louder than ever before.

The creature picked the book up with what Sidrick knew was space magic. It twirled around the book in the air, then slammed it into the floor, cracking the stone.

“Little Cyrina, still quite indestructible,” the creature said, gently landing on the book. He stomped on it a few times, each blow cracking the stone ground further.

“And a human contractor,” the creature said, finally looking at Sidrick.

He felt every part of his being scream to flee.

Sidrick clenched his fists. He was about to reply when he felt a cold breeze pass through him. A chunk of his reservoir and life were bitten away. The pain bypassed the physical, moving deeper until it struck something raw and private.The wind scraped not at memories or the mind, but who he was.

He barely managed to stay standing, clutching his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks. Emotions drowned out his every thought, even the book’s cries just a murmur at the back of his mind. He struggled to catch his breath as the feeling subsided.

“Space, ice, and soul,” the creature said. “Well the ice was terribly boring to watch. Space too. So uncreative. You didn’t even use soul magic.” The creature appeared atop Sidrick’s head. “You reek of blood. Alchemy? Interesting.”

The creature stomped on Sidrick’s head. He only registered a flash of pain before the Anchor revived him. Scattered bits of skull and brain were sprayed across the room. The rest of his body was mangled beyond recognition, several broken bones tearing from its vaguely human form.

Sidrick had thought himself immune to the sight of gore at this point. Seeing his own body turned halfway to paste was enough to almost make him puke, however. Almost.

“The human lives!” the creature said, giving a little clap. “Anchors are so fun!”

“Are you after the book?” Sidrick asked, doing his best to gather his wits. There was no chance in hell he was winning a fight with this thing. It was a deal or death.

“Cyrina can do as she pleases,” the creature said, absentmindedly throwing the book into the opposite wall. Sidrick decided to mute it for now, cutting off the soul diagnostic.

“Then what do you want?” Sidrick asked.

“I’m not sure yet!” the creature said, giving an exaggerated shrug. It grinned. “A traveler is always fun though. I suppose we could start with that alchemy. You positively reek of my kin. Yet you sorely lack the ability to kill us in great numbers…”

The vial of silver blood flew out from Sidrick’s satchel, coming to float in front of his face.

The creature chuckled grimly. “Drink it. Let’s see what happens.”

Don’t overthink it. The bastard doesn’t seem patient. Sidrick snatched the vial from the air and downed it. The creature cackled as a burning sensation coursed through Sidrick’s veins. He watched the veins on his arms bulge and squirm like they were alive.

“More! More!” the creature said, clapping its hands. It reached into a slit in space and pulled another creature from it. This one was slightly larger, its wings between a bat and a butterfly. It levitated next to the butterfly-winged creature, struggling to break free from its invisible bindings.

The new creature screamed as it was slowly twisted in the air. Its body crunched and cracked as it was wrung like a towel, its silver blood gathered in an orb next to it.

Sidrick finally threw up.

The creature laughed at that. It threw its dead kin’s body aside and floated its blood down to Sidrick. He cried out as something pried his mouth open. Streams of silver blood flowed down his throat.

The burning sensation intensified. Sidrick clenched his teeth as his jaw was let go. If this was what it took to leave alive, he could endure.

“Huh… You can take more?” the creature asked, tapping its chin. It reached into a cut in space and pulled out three more of its kin. It separated one of them and started wringing out its arms.

#

The spatial barrier finally broke. Jonah fell to one knee. The armor on her right arm had melted and pooled on the floor. The skin on her arm was half melted.

Vivi rushed toward her, healing arrays swirling to life.

Hedwin followed, thinning his ashen armor to its default thickness. He focused Quantify on identifying Jonah’s burns.

[Dawn’s Curse - greatly reduces healing effectiveness - reduces resistance to heat damage - drains 100 mana per second…]

So it’s bad, he thought. He dismissed the window without reading the rest. Jonah’s unique magic wove curses into her spells. He hadn’t been sure if they were effective on the caster before. Her insane collection of armor made a lot more sense now.

“I’m going on ahead,” Hedwin said.

Jonah gave a quick nod. Vivi didn’t respond, completely focused on healing. A healer of her expertise should’ve been done in seconds, but the burns were only healing at a barely visible pace.

Hedwin let a platform of condensed ash take him down the stairs. He saw a young man’s body lying in a pool of blood near one of the corridors. Hedwin rushed over, then paused at Quantify’s identification.

[HuFmaean - lvl 203 - DeAcelaivsede]

Hedwin’s expression became grim. Embers spun around him and wove into a series of arrays. His mana was devoured as a flood of ash poured into the corridor. He felt the monsters being shredded apart by his magic. Hedwin ignored the sick feeling in his stomach as he hopped onto a platform of ash and sped down the corridor.

#

Sidrick refused to fall. He’d stay standing for nothing but to spite the creature. The cracks and tears in his flesh and bone were filled in by silver. It was like his alchemical treatments, just done in minutes instead of days. Except the repairs were imperfect. The silver blood barely left any of the power it used to rip him apart.

“Can’t you absorb it quicker?” the creature groaned as it threw the book around the room. There was a small hill of creature corpses near it.

Sidrick couldn’t answer.

It appeared atop Layla’s head. “What if I stomp on her head?”

Sidrick looked at the creature with unrelenting venom.

It cackled and appeared atop the Anchor. “And if I break this?”

Sidrick just glared. Breaking the Anchor would take several Sovereigns cooperating.

The creature appeared a few meters away and pointed a finger at the Anchor. Sidrick couldn’t even register the spell. All he heard was the deafening boom before dust blew across the room. Sidrick stumbled as he looked toward the anchor, his eyes going wide. A massive chunk of the ground was just gone. Only the stone the Anchor rested on was intact. It treated whatever it was attached to as part of the whole.

The creature hissed and turned away, sending a blast of something toward the small hill of its kin’s corpses. A smile returned to the creature’s face as flesh and bone exploded across the room.

It appeared atop Sidrick’s head. “You have provided sufficient entertainment, human.”

Sidrick felt a flash of pain and returned to the Anchor. The silver blood coursing through him was gone, much to his immediate relief. He slowly sat up and looked at the creature.

“A bout, human, and then you will leave,” it said. “Victory will reward unconditional exit. Defeat will mean a deal.”

“What would the deal be if I lose?” Sidrick asked with a glare.

“Service to me.”

He snorted. “Of course.”

The creature cackled. “You lack spirit, human. I will have my bout, weak as you are. You will be allowed ten minutes of preparation.”

Sidrick grit his teeth. He grabbed all the spider blood vials from his satchel and started infusing them with mana.

“Boooooriiing,” the creature said. “At least try to do something original. If all you do is lie down and lose, I will boil you alive.”

The vials were pulled into a cut in space.

Sidrick stopped himself from cursing. Think. Think. Think…

He absentmindedly grabbed a healing salve for Layla, only to have it fly to the creature’s hand.

It examined it with dramatic hand movements. “Healing the girl will hardly matter if you don’t win.”

Sidrick grit his teeth. “Then give me the damn book!”

The creature laughed. “Cyrina? Will you use her as a shield? How amusing.”

Well I can’t use my ice, Sidrick thought, every word dripping with hate.

It tossed the book over to Sidrick’s feet. He reestablished the soul diagnostic as he picked it up.

“Help me… Sidrick… I don’t… It hurts… Sidrick…” the book sobbed. Its voice was small and childlike. He felt its fear and despair through their connection. He could hear what lay deep in its core scream and plead for help, like it was watching its own child die.

Sidrick held the book tighter. His stomach turned. The book—no, Cyrina—had been cut off at its most desperate hour. He had cut it off, let it fall into… this.

Sidrick trembled, his heart twisting as he tried to regain focus. He had less than ten minutes. And no shield.

Space magic was too costly to use offensively. Especially against a creature that used it in ways Sidrick could never dream to match.

Soul magic was more likely to kill him than help.

Sidrick took a deep breath. He was so weak. So inexcusably useless without his ice magic. His teachers had often told him not to grow arrogant, not to rely too much on his enhancements, not to use magic to attain fame or glory. They should have instead taught him how pathetic the power he wielded was. Maybe he would have felt a stronger drive to improve.

Sidrick looked through his satchel for a hint, an idea, anything at all. He still had those throwing knives, useless as they were as soon as he got liquid to use. Same with his knife.

He pulled out his ration and started eating.

The creature appeared in front of him. “Have you given up, human?”

“No, I’m celebrating my victory,” Sidrick said, his stupid mouth on autopilot as he contemplated what the hell he would do.

The creature hissed and chuckled grimly.

Sidrick finished his sad little meal and walked over to the entrance of the corridor he came from. He stared into it, his gaze landing on the pressure-plate laden tile floor. The traps wouldn’t be enough to kill the creature. They probably wouldn't even slow it down. He needed something more.

“Can I choose where we fight?” Sidrick asked.

“If it is sufficiently interesting.”

“Forest layer,” Sidrick said.

“Ah… As entertaining as your suffering would be, even Fae are not so stupid as to venture there,” the creature said. “We will fight here.”

He walked back to his satchel and drew his knife. Layla would survive this. He would survive, even if enslaved to this terrible creature. It was more than he dared to hope for when they first set foot in the labyrinth. House Caelum would continue. And that was enough.

Sidrick clenched his teeth, doing his best to ignore Cyrina’s broken sobs as he set her down.

He looked at the creature, his grip tightening on the knife. Arrays spun to life in his mind’s eye. “Let’s just start—“

The room erupted in a haze of gray.

Ash? Sidrick cast his perception spell. He felt something move in the haze, the edges of its form blurring into particles of gray. Sidrick went close to Layla, knife held at the ready.

“I’m here to help,” a man said within the haze.

A massive bang ripped through the room right after the man spoke. Sidrick heard the creature cackling not too far away.

An ashen hand formed next to him, laying palm-up on the floor. Its finger beckoned him over. Two more bangs hammered Sidrick’s ears. The creature entered his perception, a dribble of silver blood dripping down its chin.

Sidrick clenched his teeth as he picked Layla and Cyrina up. He might’ve just been jumping into another monster’s grasp, but it was surely better than the alternative.

As he stepped onto the hand, a shockwave blasted the room, sending away the ashen haze. Sidrick stared at his benefactor as the hand gently closed around him

A man in bulky ashen armor, its surface writhing with fiery runes. A halo of ashen horns circled his head. A dozen limbs of ash branched from his back and ended in sharpened blades. He was the evil king of a storybook brought to life, a dreadful knight of ash and flame.

“I am Cyrathiir, prince of Tribe Nodrizal,” the creature said, a savage grin on its face.

“Hedwin Lorrant,” the man said. “Teacher, mostly.”