Day 40

Vincent Salvador

There were more than a few of the Sixty that found the testing and observation to be annoying. Unnecessary and insulting even. Had they not all been in the tunnels fighting Ratsins together? Vincent understood though. During the first floor, there had been very few stable parties. A churn of parties forming and unforming as the moment demanded. This wasn’t about their personal skills, but a measure of their teamwork. Malachi wanted to make sure their cohesion was strong. Unbreakable.

Lives were on the line, so it was understandable.

The swordsman didn’t mind at all. Leadership was such a new skill to him and this was a useful opportunity to practice it. Vincent could not recall a single moment in his life when he had led anyone. Taking the lead, sure. Maybe bossed people around a few times. But those two were vastly different from the real thing. He simply hadn’t bothered much with other people. So there was never any chance to experience that burden.

At the moment, Vincent was relying on reputation and instinct to pull off leading his party. It was stressful, though surprisingly satisfying. He was greatly helped by the fact everyone already knew what they were doing. How to fight, how to move. Someone just needed to guide them to do it all with unity. That was all guesswork so far, but everything was going decently. Room for improvement. Just like with sword skills, everything can be polished to perfection.

The swordsman reflected, It is astonishing what I have missed by dismissing everything else. I do not regret my dedication, but perhaps there could have been some time set aside for other things. To have broadened my experiences… I never got lonely… So I never sought closeness with others. What have I missed?

Vincent smiled back at Anna McKnight, their tank. She was in particularly good spirits after passing their test in the simulation. There has been little doubt in his heart that they would, still there had been some nervousness to work through. It was hard and new to rely on others. Of course, the swordsman’s team pulled through with style. Especially Anna.

Under the stern eyes of Molly and Warner, the simulation was a modified recreation of a common battle with Pure Ratsin. The real test was in the modifications. Their party engaged the shadowy rats and began the grind to victory. It began so smoothly that Vincent knew something was up. He kept himself from fully committing to keep an eye out. Thanks to that the swordsman caught the curveball that the testers had thrown at them.

A Dead Thing appeared at their flank.

Even illusionary and with the assurances of safety protocols, the first feeling Vincent felt was horror. The Pure Ratsins had been adequately designed, but someone had put true effort into recreating the Dead Thing in the simulation. Too real. His heart beat overwhelmingly fast as he tried to think of the best move to make. Distracted the whole time by his solo instincts. A hunter’s call to hunt worming into his head. If not for his iron discipline bought with every sword stroke, he might have given in and charged the Dead Thing alone. He couldn’t be reckless like that anymore.

Standing alone, the swordsman would have engaged the Dead Thing without hesitation. One-on-one, it would’ve taken time, but he had proved his mettle against that monster. Vincent wasn’t alone though. The action of a lone wolf and a leader can not be the same. There were more variables at play now. He worried about fumbling them.

Breathe in and breathe out, pushing aside everything. A blade's edge of focus on what needed to be done. Convincing himself it was no different than battle before. Leadership was an easy addition to the problem. Breathe in, breathe out. A plan spiraled out from his thoughts.

The swordsman switched with Anna and ordered his tank to hold the Dead Thing with the support of their healer Maisey Woods. Then he called for Russel and Vihaan to bring their full might down with him to eliminate the Pure Ratsin shades as quickly as possible. The gambit was successful as the mock battle ended with the whole party bullying the dread illusion. Put them all in a good mood and Anna most of all. He couldn’t deny her enthusiasm, nor would he want to. If anything Vincent encouraged the celebration. His team had proved they could withstand a Dead Thing ambush.

After that excitement, the rest of the simulations were little more than drills. His team blitzed through them and bought their ticket to the second floor. It was more beautiful than he remembered from that brief glimpse from before. A taste of home that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Almost real, but too clearly not.

From the stone clearing, the four parties that had come up to the second floor split up. Warner’s party led them up a natural stairway of crumbled stone. Once atop the plateau, the new trial began. Vincent would have to lead his people through real danger now. No simulation nor training this time. Living monsters that could bring real death. It was his duty to see them through. There were thoughts of doubts and a list of worries. Even a small voice arguing it was a waste of time. Urging him to not be distracted by things beyond the sword. It was a sniveling thing, born of base feeling. Not really worth consideration. He had already decided this was the best path to be stronger.

The swordsman breathed in and out slowly. Calling on courage to strengthen the limbs. He opened his eyes, smiling with pride at those that had accepted his leadership. They had accepted him because of the sword, but Vincent was determined to prove himself more. Not just a sheltering hand, but a guiding one. Focusing as if this was a swordfight, Warner’s party was erased from his concerns. Only seeing the party. Only thinking of what was next.

“Shall we seek the heart of the woods?” asked Vincent grinning. Their response was full of pride and confidence. They would follow him into danger. It was a good feeling. Something new and warm. He wouldn’t let them down.

Zariah Graves

She stood as a conduit of thought as her team moved perfectly in sync. All of them united in defeating the forest creatures. Occasionally a thrust of force or quick grasping jerk by her to aid the fight at the right moments. It was a strange thing to hear thoughts. Linked together by a spell, Zariah’s power allowed them to talk to each other in a single moment of intention and understanding. The experience was similar to several people using the same channel on walkie-talkies. Only, everyone was talking all at once, doing so super fast, and everything was somehow supremely coherent.

For a long time connecting more than two people was beyond her. The strain caused everything to distort as headaches stabbed Zariah deeply in the temples. A hard limit that made the psychic connection largely useless. Manageable maybe, but disorientating when a whole party couldn’t be linked together. She had found some use in making and breaking quick attaches. Picking out those moments where enhanced communication would bolster success. Doing so roughly or at the wrong timing could be disastrous though. Seeking to see where she was needed developed her leadership skill. Leading her to be posted in charge of the rear guard and to have the time to become stronger.

Then Zariah faced the Pale One with the Coward’s Club at her back. An odd bunch, but they showed their mettle in that fight. She did too. The strain to survive had demanded it. When that hateful husk had been forced to reveal itself there had only been terror in her heart. A deep clenching coldness that turned to despair. The acolyte had thought them doomed. Knew them to be nothing before this god of Dead Things.

Before the last light of hope could flicker and die, a coward stepped forward. It was important to her. That crystallized moment. To see someone who had cravenly refused the Tunnels for weeks stand up to that horror. One reckless thrust of the spear and Zariah rallied. How could she break when they would not? So she had dug down deep to give every last of herself to aid their desperate need to live. That’s when her power finally became useful. Uniting everyone by thought and intention. Even in the struggle, it had been ecstatic. Like being gloriously real.

Upon reflection, the psychic acolyte had decided that most people needed those moments of pressure to make those kinds of breakthroughs. Perhaps especially when you have been taken to a new world and are trying to adapt to the new rules. Not everyone, few in fact, could be like Damien who cracked the mysteries of the universe by a matter of course. No matter what the obsidian acolyte said.

It was the blooming of this theory that helped her come to some understanding of why they were in The Pit. They could have been put in a school or something less lethal, but would the motivation to reach higher be there? She didn’t have enough information, but it was something to consider. A ghostly thought was constantly on edge of her attention. Zariah hadn’t expressed this to anyone yet. Seemed prudent to hold that back for now. The why of The Pit was a volatile subject at the moment. There was plenty else to focus on anyways.

Monsters to slay and power to claim.

Currently, that was being pursued on a plateau, the half closest to the river source. Molly and her party watched silently to the side. It was eerie to be judged by the cool-eyed woman. Today more so than others. Not only was her party and leadership being judged, but the woman seemed a little riled by something. There was an easy guess why. Still, those two had been nothing but cordial if stiff. All Zariah could do was calm her anxiety while doing the best she could.

Thoughts and intentions swirled down as the current fight came to a close. While clear verbal communications were possible in her psychic network, it was mostly just a burst of intentions. One teamwork informing another what they planned or calling for help. Often Zariah was little more than a relay tower keeping everyone up-to-date. The smoothness of her spell’s connection meant the party ran itself. She only needed to nudge the focus on occasion.

The last scaled badger fell to Leilani Small’s spear, the long weapon snaking through defenses to skewer through a crack in the armor. Cautiously, her team disengaged to sweep the quiet battlefield. Zariah used their connection to check everyone’s condition. Directing their healer Stanley Blake to take care of a minor wound the tank Nicholas Vargas was pridefully hiding. Through her network, everyone had a general idea of each other’s health, but it was possible to obscure things. As the source of the magic, they couldn’t hide much of anything from her. She tried not to take advantage of that.

While that was going on, Zariah played with her Mana manually. Following the recommendations of the obsidian acolyte to learn how to do things on her own. Relying on the Heartsong for everything would only limit them. She found the process fairly easy when dealing with internal effects, but unlike the rest of her class, doing anything outside the body was difficult. The best she could do was throw out waves of kinetic force or spread out a bubble of awareness. It was progress, though annoying that her affinity was apparently starkly different from the others. That meant she had to figure out a lot on her own.

Something entered her psychic bubble. Bursts of emotion that were hard to translate to anything other than anger. A little bit of an impression of territorial rumblings. It wasn’t a hard guess that more monsters were on the way.

Enemy incoming, left, five above, three below announced Zarah in a burst. Seconds of words done in a moment of thought. Attached to the thoughts were dozens of details that would take more time than was worth to say. Easily passed along.

In answer came acknowledgment and a conversation that played out rapidly. A battle plan was drawn up before her party finished turning towards the threat. As a unit they agreed, already moving to their positions. She focused on exactly where the monsters were coming from and how fast those angry thoughts were closing in. Sending that along so they could adjust.

The ground rumbled as the scaled badgers swam through the ground, but the birds arrived. Blue creatures that crackled with electricity as they prepared to dive-bomb Zariah’s party. She reached out Mana and coalesced it into a solid working above them. Roughly shaped like the hand that the acolyte held up and came crashing downwards in reflection of her dropping hand. The birds were slammed into the ground. Still squawking in surprise when weapons silenced them all simultaneously. Timing became perfectly simple because of the network.

Nicholas leaped over the corpses to meet the tunneling monsters. Roaring in a wave of Mana to irritate and pull their attention. The ground rippled as the beasts surfaced with a cry of their own. Tough things, but without air support the fight was already over. Four linked fighters were hard to defeat. Zariah dreamed that one day she would link all sixty of them. What strength they would have then?

Soren Hill

Left behind again, he sighed. Looking at his new team, added, At least I’m not alone in that.

The day began with seeing one-third of the Sixty going upstairs while another portion was slated to go up soon after to have their teamwork tested. It seemed like a blitz to him. How quickly formal parties had formed and the gunman found himself with no dedicated group. Spending most of the break training his skills to catch up had the unfortunate side effect of being somewhat socially disconnected. He had also spent a lot of time with Valerie Moore, but due to not having any affinity for combat meant she didn’t have a party either. Nor did that phase her.

There was Soren again. Missing the beat that the Sixty was dancing to again. No party meant no exploring up top. Clarissa had even taken the time out of her day to taunt him about it. That cheeky nightmare probably did it to encourage him to play catch up too. Kindness while nice, still stung some.

It did light a fire under his ass, though.

He just couldn’t let the prime archer have the last laugh.

It was time to start his own party

The first stop was Leon Machi. The barrier acolyte was talented, but had been overlooked. Like himself in Soren’s embarrassed opinion. From there it became close to picking teams for something like dodgeball. Team captains made their case and everyone divided up. It was a little messy as team balance had to be taken into account, but the other captain, Daisy Solomon, worked with him until everyone was satisfied. When they began to train the scout, Francisco simply appeared amongst them. The gunman decided not to question it. An extra hand is always useful.

Training their teamwork became the focus of their whole day. Simulation after simulation in hopes that maybe Molly and Warner would give them the ok. It likely wouldn’t be tomorrow, but the gunman thought the party was coming together pretty well. Despite that progress, the itch to catch up was souring his mood a little.

“You seem stressed,” noted Leon kindly. “Worried about being a leader?”

Soren gave a short humorless laugh before answering. “Not at all, which I’ll admit isn’t necessarily a good thing. That’s because being in charge of folk isn’t an unknown to me. Lone gunman might be my fantasy, but when working for the law… you work with others and if you want to be the guy making the decisions then you gotta accept being the boss too. Though not too high or it's just paperwork. Gotta ease into that happy medium and hold on.”

“So if “taking charge” isn’t the issue, then what is, my friend?” asked Leon, curious with mild amusement.

At this, the gunman frowned and didn’t meet the barrier acolyte’s eyes as he answered, “I guess… No, I know. My pride’s a little wounded. Some people are just gonna be better… and well, that’s… always been me.”

“But that isn’t true now?”

“Farther from it than I’d like to admit,” sighed Soren. “In the beginning, I competed with Clarissa, she was better, but I wasn’t too far off. That I could accept as time could tell. It did that, o’ yes it did. Suddenly, I wasn’t even second note anymore. All of the archers blew me out of the water. I shouldn’t care…”

“Yet, you do,” nodded Leon. The gunman grunted an affirmative, but said no more. “It’s nice to be the best at something. From simple to complex things. A little pride doesn’t hurt either. Keeps you believing in yourself. Which is the problem I guess, you’re questioning your value. That’s never fun.”

Soren agreed quietly, then asked to shift things away from himself, “Sounds like you’ve been in this before yourself.”

The barrier acolyte smiled knowingly. “Indeed, often. Few would say I was a talented man. I certainly can’t claim to be the best at any impressive things or have the stories you lot seem to pluck from the sky. My life was a rather quiet one. Plenty of time for contemplation. And reading. Did a lot of that.”

“And… that made you doubt yourself?”

“O’ my no,” laughed Leon startled out of his reflection. “In retrospect, I quite enjoyed myself. This life can be a little too exciting and dangerous for my tastes. Happy to play my part though. Be nice to see the sky again… but I digress again from trying to get to my point. It was a good life, but because I did no extraordinary things… there were times that I thought of myself as a waste. Everyone did seem to excel when I did not. I escaped that loathing by a combination of being kinder to myself and choosing to be humble enough to learn how to excel.”

“I’m sorry, not sure what you’re saying,” said Soren, confused. “Are you just saying to let myself off the hook and ask for help?”

“Ah that is a simpler way to put it,” smiled the barrier acolyte.

He thought about that for a moment. Then tried to argue against it. An obvious solution, but his pride rankled at the idea. Grimaced, wavered, and finally accepted the smart choice. “Damnit! Alright fine, makes sense and I was obviously avoiding this. I can admit that. But! Not gonna ask Clarissa for help like that! She’d eat me alive!”

“Would that devil be the best one to help you?”

“Ugh, probably,” admitted Soren sickly.

“Guess she’s the one to ask then.”

“Fine, this won’t end well for me.”

Laughing, Leon roared, “I wouldn’t doubt that!”