Laurence led the way, setting the pace as fast as they could maintain. Perhaps a bit higher, a few times.

As they got used to each other the traveling went easier, the group steadily warming up to one another. Despite their longstanding internet rivalry, the Frires and Doom Raiders had a lot in common. Two days of traveling together in a tight pack built a surprising level of camaraderie.

After the initial awkward silences and introductions, by the end of the first day they'd begun to talk to one another, and by the time they reached their destination they'd moved on to chatting casually with no concern for group affiliation. Dungeons and leveling, the weather, politics, funny stories from their lives, basically anything and everything under the sun.

Laurence himself stayed mostly out of it, jumping in to correct misunderstandings when necessary, but mainly observing. He wasn't a people person, much happier with data than with gossip. He used to try to keep abreast of what was going on locally just so he could interject agreement at the proper time in group conversations, but now... he found it hard to care even that much anymore.

Anything unrelated to magic seemed dull and insignificant now, paled in comparison to the chance to create and destroy with a thought. He was a mage, he could cast spells.

And he was also, somehow, the instigator of a mad quest for vengeance and justice. Administration and organizing came more naturally to him than command, but when circumstances demand you rise to the occasion... you either rise with them, or fall behind.

Laurence had no intention of falling behind.

But when they arrived at their destination, it was almost enough to make him reconsider his uncharacteristic forwardness.

The dungeon wasn’t an all-but-invisible shimmer anymore.

The building had been boarded up, with warning signs posted and cameras set up outside, but a few quick swipes with a manablade dealt with the best attempts of mundane material to block off access to the dungeon. The real problem showed itself when they moved further inside.

Destruction Dungeon: Level 10

It was a doorway, ten feet tall and half as wide, rust-brown stone carved with bone-shaped sigils. Laurence barely restrained himself from running over to start cataloging the various symbols - they weren’t all the same, each clearly crafted; some repeating, others unique. Could it be text? Did it say something he could interpret?

The interior of the doorway was opaquely translucent, the oil-shimmer now an orange curtain of light tinted with oddly faceted rainbow refractions.

The interior of the office around the archway seemed to have melted to make room for it, a clear circle around the dungeon forming a smooth crater in the middle of the otherwise intact building, like someone had scooped out a perfect sphere around the dungeon.

Or, rather, as though the archway were gradually absorbing everything in its vicinity, reshaping it to adorn itself.

Level 10.

Laurence had heard Levi mention this place a few times in passing, as a potential resource if they were ever in the area again, and he had committed it to memory. Nothing like an unexpectedly high level dungeon to level the playing field, and Ohio happened to be not far out of the way since according to his latest information Charles was currently located just one state to the east, in Pennsylvania.

But seeing a dungeon at level 10 was sobering in a way imagining 'a more powerful dungeon' hadn’t been.

He’d never been in a dungeon even level 4 before. This… this was a whole other magnitude. If it had been just him, he'd have turned back. If it were for anything less important. But this was bigger than just him, bigger than either of their guilds - heck, bigger than both of their guilds combined.

This was Laurence's chance to contribute to the making of a legend. This was the kind of epic undertaking that would be remembered by generations to come.

All he had to do was risk his life and the lives of his companions. Wasn't that what all the heroes did? Forge ahead, not backing down from adversity?

He took a deep breath, mentally ran some calculations based on his observations and Levi's information, and concluded that level 10 was just barely within their possible success threshold, but that if they won it would be more than worth it.

"This is going to be the most challenging battle of our lives up to this point." Laurence turned from the archway to face the rest of the group. "Remember how that gremlin took down Charles? The gremlins in here will be at least that level of fast and clever. Every single one. No low levels to pick off easily. Every creature will be at least a match for us one on one. We'll have to fight together."

The group nodded, as sobered by the dungeon archway as Laurence himself.

"Don't underestimate anything in this dungeon. Even the weakest and simplest creature could kill you if you're not careful. We will be going very slowly and if anything seems dangerous we'll run, no questions asked."

Nods of agreement, weapons held, faces determined.

Laurence's heart thudded so loud he was sure the others must hear it, but put on his best imitation of confidence. No way he was going to back down in front of everyone now.

"Then it's time to power level."

They stepped forward, fighters leading, rangers and mage following, and the dungeon welcomed them inside.

The first room was unlike the sand and black pitted stone of most dungeons Laurence had seen, instead formed of a narrow ledge overlooking a vast bog interspersed with only occasional clusters of sickly-looking long grass poking up from beneath the oil-sheen layer of rust-coloured Destruction goo covering the center of the room entirely.

The air itself was thick and acrid, like breathing poison smoke, an orange haze covering everything and concealing the far end of the vast room. The moment they stepped inside everyone started to cough uncontrollably. For Laurence it took only a few moments to acclimate, a tiny drain on health but ultimately insignificant.

The others were in worse condition. Xander, Jeff, and Frire Duck took nearly a minute of hacking and wheezing as their health dropped, then rose, then dropped before finally stabilizing.

Bradley, as the lowest level among them, took even longer. Though from the gasping sounds of his breathing he wasn't entirely improved even as he waved away any concern and insisted he was ready. Laurence kept an eye on him, worried his level 5 friend might not be suited for fighting in this environment. But they'd need all the help they could get, so he didn't try to send him away.

"Be careful," Steele said, holding up a hand. "I'll scout ahead. Wait here." The heavily armored fighter stepped cautiously into the corrosive-looking liquid covering the floor, which only went up to his ankles. He moved slowly, feeling around with his feet before advancing, then called back, "It's flat and stable underneath, but the liquid is corrosive. It's already starting to damage my boots."

He moved with increasing haste and less caution to the first clump of sickly plants, but it squished under his foot as he stepped on, sinking slowly toward the surface of the corrosive.

"We'll have to make a run for it," Steele reported. "I think I can see the next tunnel."

Laurence sent out a quick series of mana pings to see what they were dealing with, but the intensity of the ambient mana meant his range was very limited. He could sense the corrosive very strongly, but not even detect the people standing next to him.

"I'll go first. Stay close." Podge stepped forward, the second best-armed of the Frires. Laurence and Jeff the ranger hung back, letting the three fighters spread out as they splashed across the shallow mire toward Steele.

Before they reached him, a swarm of scarabs dropped from the ceiling in a sudden buzzing, surrounding the lone fighter in an instant.

Instinct took over. Laurence broke formation and sprinted to Steele's side, right into the heart of the swarm. His best area attack required close proximity and he wasn't about to lose someone to the very first ambush.

"GUST!" A sweeping blast of sharpened wind sliced out, tearing into the heart of the swarm. He spun as he cast again and again, careful to keep his cone aimed away from Steele. "GUST, GUST!"

The level 10 scarabs turned out to be considerably tougher stuff than the ordinary variety. Even knowing the dungeon was at level 10, he'd imagined clearing the whole swarm without much trouble, the scarabs were still small after all, but he'd forgotten just how resilient their shells were.

A stupid oversight in the heat of the moment. Laurence's racing pulse thundered in his ears as he realized just how much more dangerous this place was than the level 2s and 3s.

The scarabs weren't waiting for him to kill them either. The moment he registered as a threat, they left Steele alone and swarmed Laurence in swift retaliation.

If not for the fact that Gust was a wind spell in addition to a damage spell, he'd have been overwhelmed right then and there, but he was able to keep the swarms at bay with rapid firing. Each time he turned, the scarabs he'd blown back were right there, if he slowed for a second they'd be upon him, and he had no faith in his survivability under these circumstances.

Luckily, he wasn't alone. If he had been, he'd have been dead the moment his mana ran out. It didn't come to that. Instead, the fighters grouped up and hacked away at the swarm from the outside while Laurence and Steele hammered it from the inside.

He fell into a rhythm of turning and casting, gathering and shaping mana and hurling it out as fast as he could, tightwire awareness humming through him, the certainty that if he miscast even a single time it would mean his death.

Gust, gust, gust, casting so fast he knew he was draining stamina to fuel his movement speed, trying not to think about his mana dropping rapidly toward empty.

As he completed his second circuit the attacking scarabs finally began to fall. A few at first, plopping thickly into the goo in which they all stood. The next cast took out more of them, cutting that group by nearly half. The attacking swarms thinned quickly after that, the relatively even distribution of damage letting Laurence cut through them in large swathes, dropping a dozen or more scarabs with each gust.

Then it was over, the frantic buzzing and clanging and rushing wind falling to stillness.

"We did it." He had enough mana left to cast Gust twice more; if the dungeon had been even a little bit more powerful he'd have been dead. But he'd survived.

Out of breath, trembling with adrenaline, Laurence found himself laughing. He felt like he'd just finished a marathon; exhausted, but victorious.

"That wasn't so hard."