We were out of options. This was the very last one.

Viessa was infinitely more capable than me. I'd been a cocky kid when we'd first met, but I knew that was the truth now.

It should be her that was here right now.

What I was about to do? It was dumb. It was reckless. And if I thought there were any other choices left? I'd choose them in a single heartbeat.

I'd spent my life trying to do the right thing, but this was my son that was on the line.

If even Viessa couldn't heal him after days of trying? I'm not sure there was anyone left that could.

The only reason I'd managed to knock her out was because her guard was down. She wasn't a melee combatant, but she could be damn tough for a backliner when she was ready for it.

My wife was amazing. That much was more than true.

And I'd just betrayed her.

Worse was that I couldn't really say I regretted it, even to myself, not enough to turn back and respect what she would have wanted.

I could feel him breathing against my chest. My boy. We'd only had him a few weeks. He was already my world.

He was his mother's world too. Maybe if she was the one doing this now then it might've not been such a stretch.

I was underprepared. If I'd had our old party then maybe, but right now? This was going to be rough.

But I could feel him breathing against my chest... and I absolutely had to keep him able to do just that.

My legs swayed beneath me. We'd traveled far with the [Greater Teleportation] scroll. Still, I knew it wouldn't be long before Viessa woke up and, when she did, even all the Saints on Arden couldn't keep her from tracking me down. I was counting on it actually; someone would need to be nearby to pick up the pieces after I was done saving Castien.

And if I died in the attempt? She needed to be there to save him. I had one more teleportation scroll tucked between my mail and breastplate; I'd send him him to his mother if things got too bad. Almost nothing should be able to put me down quick enough to stop me from at least doing that.

We were close. I knew it.

The ring on my hand was practically burning with heat. Ever since Castien had fallen sick it had whispered to me. I'd thought, once upon a time, that it'd fallen into my hands so I could keep it from ever being used again.

I'd been an arrogant idiot for that.

I could hear it whispering to me. If I had been a mage it would've already taken me over; thank the ancestors I didn't have a lick of magical talent.

The man I'd once been, who didn't have a son, would've told me to turn back for the sake of the greater good--and he would've put me down if I'd refused more than once.

I wasn't that man anymore. Castien had already changed everything and things would never be the same; he would always come first.

It was hard to think; I could hear the ring speaking in greater and greater intonations of malice laden joy. I hated that I wore it now, that I was forced to wear it; the entity inside it was filth. But, perhaps, so now was I, for what I planned to do with it.

As I crested the hill, I saw the temple's large roof before I saw its steps.

The ring's voice went all but mad as it too must've realized where we were.

I pressed onward.

This was what was left to me now, a father solely determined to save his son.

(Scene shifts to Jeremiah.)

Time drifted in and out; it was a fever dream state I figured was likely brought on by the crippling physical debuffs of Soulrot and the harsh fever burning through my weak, young body.

Images came in flashes and swathes. Blinks that seemed separated from linear time allowed me to see glimpses of reality.

I watched strong hands, armed and swinging freely as I felt myself jostled up and down against damp cloth. I realized quickly that I was tied to someone's chest, that someone being my father I assumed; I confirmed this by recognizing the sword that the man had been wearing at his side earlier.

Another blink. I was jostled into a slight shock as I watched a skeletal being, with stinking armor rotting off of its body, be violently cut in two by James' wide-bladed bastard sword. The remaining bones of the swampy skeleton went flying wildly as its skull dropped in front of my drifting eyes, the remaining light faded from the flesh coated sockets like a dying breath

I didn't catch the sound of the ancient skull hitting the towering stone steps James stood upon, because the sound of skirting steel soon filled my ears instead.

My father's sword caught a massive battle ax against its groove with a halfblading maneuver; the opposing weapon was larger than should've been possible for any man to carry in either life or even death—the physics and leverage would simply be off for anything but a colossal being.

I struggled to lift my eyes to see our attacker, but only caught a flash of large horns, before my father turned rapidly.

There was a massive thud following a worried gasp as a kick clearly meant to connect with James' chest, where I rested, slammed into the man's ribs instead due to his quick and evasive action.

I thought I heard the very loud cracking of bones and figured that with the speed that my father had shifted, and the cool grace at which he had dispatched the skeleton earlier, that the man likely would've been able to dodge the attack with a quick jump backwards, had he not been panicking about the risk to his son--to me.

"Bastard," James said, as he barely landed onto his boots after being sent flying a good ten feet at least. I felt the man sag forward somewhat and take in labored breaths, presumably fighting just to remain standing with whatever damage the impact he'd received had done.

A status bar quickly appeared as I observed my father's sweat covered face.

[James Stoneheart, Level 15 Battlemaster, Level 10 Commander (Torso Crippled)]

[HP: 40/156]

It was only when I caught a relatively clear sight of the beast that had done the damage that I realized just how much my father had sacrificed to keep me safe from the strike.

The creature was huge and not rotting like the other skeletons, but instead boasted a pristine white ivory, a cold glow of gold burning in its skeletal eye sockets. I now saw that its horns were just adornments on a massive great helm. That said, the shine in its gaze was deep and luminous and didn't at all look evil as might be expected of a skeletal giant, but rather like it was powered by a determined and solemn vow of some sort. I had seen the same feeling reflected in the eyes of fellow soldiers who refused to be put down despite fear, exhaustion, and injury.

[Giantkin Tombguard, Level 15 Guardian, Boss]

[HP: 50/300]

I wasn't quite sure how much information I could retain given my current mental state, brought on by my physical one, but I reached for the information nonetheless and, for what it was worth, the System obliged.

[No information gathered on Tombguards.]

[Guardians are a subclass of Fighters. Rather than investing in the holy buffs and divine might of Paladins, Guardians rely on the sheer strength of their own stats and a conviction of will and body to defend their allies. They gain various status buffs to a cap that is determined by their level and which also depends on the number of allies they are protecting,.]

As I was reading this, I felt a hand quickly grasp a hold on my tiny body to steady me as my father rolled expertly to the side. The wind of the Giantkin's greataxe rustled against my hot flesh and likely barely missed clipping James' own blonde hair.

My father was back onto his feet as quickly as he had propelled himself off of them as he turned and pivoted once again, expertly striking the shield of another skeletal warrior to prevent it from capitalizing on his needing to regain his footing.

I caught glimpses of my father in action, seemingly in his element. The blade of his heavy sword ricocheted off of the skeleton's shield, only to have the energy be redirected in removing the head of another of its kind. It was as if he was participating in a dance of give, take, and kill with his enemies.

All the while, the Giantkin seemed to pursue the strong, yet surprisingly nimble Battlemaster.

No, I noted, James wasn't actually overly nimble, he was simply athletic and incredibly tactical and economical with his powerful, Strength backed movements. It was a sort of deceptive looking grace brought on by skill rather than Agility, and one befitting of his class' name. From what I could tell, James very much did seem to be mastering this battle and bending it to his whims; with every strike he seemed to be adapting more to being both surrounded and injured.

A text block obliged my suspicions.

[Battlemasters employ various combat maneuvers to control the ebb and flow of battle. They gain the ability of Battlesense, which grows in power as they level, and that eventually allows them to remain nearly constantly apprised of the movements of greater numbers of their allies and enemies, providing they can maintain a constant focus on at least one of their senses. In contrast to some classes, such as Barbarians, which can be caught burning out over time despite dealing a significant amount of damage at the onset of a conflict, Battlemasters tend to shine in prolonged engagements as they subtly stack their directing of the field of battle until it cascades into a clear victory.]

And James was truly putting this class to use. He seemed to remain constantly out of the reach of his most dangerous foe, as he whittled down its support troops. A strategy which became all the more clear in its purpose with every passing glance that I caught of the boss monster.

[Giantkin Tombguard, Level 15 Guardian, Boss]

[HP: 40/300]

With every skeleton that was struck down, the creature leading them seemed to lose some of its health. Whatever class buff it was employing, James had apparently figured out that it revolved around health, and had deduced just how to whittle it down: by destroying its allies.

Not to say that the battlemaster didn't take every chance presented to weaken it more directly.

As it attacked through the loss of its allies, the Giantkin seemed slower in its movement, when compared to James who only grew more into his element. When it came in for another swipe, coming dangerously close to bisecting the battlemaster and his son, James merely shifted to the right and used his momentum to relieve the creature of its left foot; his magnificent sword, which I now suspected was likely not quite mundane, chopped easily through the magically animated bone and the leather of its boots.

The creature could do little to prevent James from using its surprise to place himself behind it and force it to the ground with a returned booted kick.

With a magnificent riposte, James then prioritized the attack of a skeleton that had flanked him and soon too dispatched the creature from life.

[Giantkin Tombguard, Level 15 Guardian, Boss]

[HP: 10/300]

With the bones of his enemies surrounding him, James slammed his boot once more down on the back of the Giantkin, proving that his own strength was nothing to laugh at, even when stacked against one who had possessed giant's blood in life.

Without ceremony James removed the helmet of the creature and then took its skull from its body with a practiced cleaving.

The magics in the creature seemed to then deplete as its armored form sagged.

"Don't," the words came out from seemingly nowhere, raspy and rumbling, and sounded like a heartfelt warning and even plea to reason.

James clearly bristled at the sound and stared down intently at the fading light of the holy looking skeleton's glow.

I heard the man digging the skin of his palm into the fine leather of his blade's handle.

"I know," James said with regret in his voice and turned to walk further up the steps of the temple. The man uncorked a small vial of red liquid from his belt and downed the fluid quickly; I thought I could almost hear and feel my father's ribs snapping into place and pushing back together.

[Greater Potion of Resplendent Healing]

I caught sight of the vial's name as we climbed the temple steps. A massive rumbling could be heard and the titanic doors of the ancient, slumbering citadel began to part open for the man who, for better or for worse, had dared to slay its long entrusted guardians.

And yet, if that was what awaited at the gate, I worried greatly at what might reside inside, and began to wonder just what James thought he would find that was worth both abandoning his wife and braving this dungeon with a vulnerable infant in tow.