Edmund emerged into howling wind and biting chill. The world shined white all around him, a flurry of snow blown about by the unceasing gale obscuring all but a few feet ahead. All Edmund’s eyes could make out were two steep hillsides walling him in, forming a path ahead and into the blizzard.

He slid his hand into his satchel and rooted around, only stopping when he managed to slip his finger through the rough stone of his swelter ring.

The chill vanished. The snow blow ceased stinging against his exposed skin. Frost stopped collecting on his eyebrows and lashes.

The wind kept on, its gusts filled with humid warmth in lieu of oppressive cold as the enchanted ring heated the air around him. As Edmund blinked he noted a sphere around him, as exactly eight feet in all directions from the ring on his finger, the snow on the ground and flakes in the wind alike melted away.

In its place he found himself treading upon a muddy field of wet grass, brown and limp and dead for the winter. The sole of his boot slid against it, lacking for traction against the wet surface. Edmund supposed it was better than slipping on solid ice, but not by much.

Curiously enough, the warmth of his aura seemed to dry and even char the dead grass, at least if the tendrils of smoke that rose from beneath his feet were any indicator. The rushing wind tried and failed to disperse the fumes, instead simply spreading them through the air in a complex whirlwind of a pattern. Edmund opted to ignore the smoke for the time being.

His eyes unable to glean much beyond his sphere of warmth, Edmund scouted with his cloudkith sigil, squinting down the path ahead and into the clouds above. No apparent danger lurked in the sky, its only feature the bright light of a false sun filtered through the diffusing effects of the ongoing blizzard. Ahead he found yet more path, along with what appeared to be a small alcove in the hillside. Before he could move to approach it, Liam appeared.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Liam said, glancing distastefully at the quagmire the melted snow had given way to. “Remind me never to throw you a bone again.”

Edmund blinked. “A bone?”

“Oh, you know, a favor? A treat? A nice thing for a friend?”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Clearly,” Liam said with a dramatically dismissive flourish. “The moment I try and do something nice for you, you turn it into a swamp.”

Edmund reached through the slot in his helmet to rub the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about?”

“Look around you! It’s your perfect floor! No meddling delvers, environmental hazards you have answers to, and plenty of targets for all that fire magic of yours.”

Edmund’s head jerked sharply towards the path ahead at the mention of targets, ready for a swarm of monsters to appear at a moment’s notice. None came.

“Oh, relax,” Liam said. “Nothing’s coming to kill you, not until after. That’s part of the deal.”

“After what? What deal?”

“What do you think?” Liam walked past Edmund and began off down the path. “Follow me.”

Edmund paused for a moment, squinting after him as he watched the avatar step into the blizzard. With a sigh he pulled his shield from his back and slid his arm through its straps, readying himself for any unwelcome surprises. Up ahead, the loud and clearly intentional sound of Liam clearing his throat echoed through the air.

Edmund followed, trudging through the mud as his swelter ring melted the snow beneath him. He contemplated removing the enchanted ring, but determined the wider visibility to be worth more than the minor loss in traction, even if it made a mess of his boots. Besides, Liam had mentioned targets for fire magic. It stood to reason anything weak to fire might’ve found the heat of the swelter ring an adequate deterrent.

He found Liam standing proudly in front of the alcove he’d noticed earlier. As far as Edmund could tell, there was nothing special about it, just a two-foot-deep space dug out of the hillside. He looked askance at Liam. “Is… is this it?”

“Not… quite,” Liam said, his gaze fixed on the space before him. With a snap of his fingers, a layer of dust broke away from the top of the alcove, raining down through the empty space before suddenly stopping midair. The falling soil came to rest as if on an invisible surface, one bearing the shape of a familiar symbol. “You know what this means?”

Edmund scowled at the outline of a ring with a diagonal, point line through it with recognition. “Oblivion? You got me an offer from Oblivion?”

Liam beamed. “You’ve heard of it, then.”

“Heard of it? There’s a Thrax-damned church! They used to chant hymns loud enough to keep me up in the alley I used to—” Edmund cut himself off. “Oblivion’s far and away the most powerful eldritch icon. It bid on me?”

“It’s here, isn’t it? Like I said, you’re a hot commodity. Not the hottest, of course—well, yes the hottest if you’re wearing that ring I gave you.” Liam shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Just that you’re popular with the celestials, but not the most popular,” Liam explained. “I wouldn’t want you to get a big head about it, after all.”

Edmund exhaled. “It’s Amelia isn’t it? She’s the most popular?”

Liam blinked, surprise apparent on his face. “That was fast.”

Edmund shrugged. “She’s a princess, a potential future queen. She could set up a church. I imagine that’s worth more than any single delver could ever be.”

“Before you get too into the weeds on the value of churches, why don’t you commune with Oblivion and take a gander at its offer. You might find it relevant.”

Edmund allowed his gaze to linger on Liam for a moment, more for the sake of refusing to immediately do as he was told than any true desire to analyze the avatar’s face. Once he’d made his point, Edmund knelt before the alcove and placed a hand on the invisible shrine.

The world vanished. No wind buffeted his back. No mud clung to his knees. No moisture crept through his armor. No chill nor heat nor comfortable warmth kissed his skin. No breath filled his lungs. No sights met his eyes.

Edmund existed in nothingness. He didn’t stand. He didn’t kneel. He didn’t sit. He didn’t float. No forces exerted themselves upon him, and he in turn had nothing on or through which to impose his will. For a terrible moment, he bore no purpose, had nothing he cared about and nobody who cared about him. For a glorious moment, he knew no suffering, carried no wounds or torturous memories.

For a moment, Edmund knew Oblivion.

Until the smoke crept in.

He knew not what cracks in the nothingness through which it had slipped, nor from whence it came or where it went, but come it did. Its acrid stench assaulted his nose, dried his throat, reddened his eyes. Most of all it reminded him of the world at large, of all the love and the pain and the violence and the beautiful misery that awaited his return. It was with a wistful eye that Edmund read his offer.

Offer Received - Pact of Oblivion

Receive access to the Eldritch base Aspect, with abilities tied to the power of Oblivion and resonance determined by your personal affinity with Oblivion. Oblivion pledges to revoke 61.47 percent of its power from its church to empower this Aspect. In exchange for this portion of its strength, Oblivion asks a 2% tithe on all coin earned, a twice-yearly holy task, and a one-time holy quest.

Edmund dismissed the offer and pulled his consciousness away, yanking his hand from the shrine and returning to the real world. The smoke remained.

“Well?” Liam asked. “Is that a good offer or what?”

Edmund furrowed his brow. “It certainly asks less of me than the Great Silence did.”

Liam grinned. “I did say they wouldn’t send you offers they didn’t think you’d agree to.”

“But something in there worries me,” Edmund continued. “The pact mentions revoking a big chunk of power from the church to give to me.”

“That’s a good thing, Edmund. You want power. It’s kind of the whole point.”

“But it doesn’t say anything about me keeping that power,” Edmund countered. “What’s to stop Oblivion from taking it back the moment I say yes?”

“The same thing that stops any celestial from diluting its pacts with more pacts. If Oblivion gets a reputation for stiffing its followers, people will stop pledging.”

“But it’d already be stiffing other people to empower me.” Edmund shook his head and placed his hand back on the shrine, returning to the nothingness just long enough to give his answer. “No.”

The altar crumbled to dust before him as he pushed himself to his feet.

Liam gaped. “That was a good offer!”

“Then get me a better one. One that says in writing they can’t screw me over, or at least one with a celestial I can trust not to. Revoking power from others doesn’t make for a good selling point.”

“Alright, alright, back to the drawing board.” Liam sighed. “Just be careful not to establish a reputation for being picky. The price of a shrine placement starts to plummet if the bidders think you’re going to turn them down.”

“Why would I care how much they pay you?”

“Because you like being in my good graces? Because I’m good to my friends? Because I can’t reward you with unique artifacts I don’t have? Remember, I can make your experience down here a lot less pleasant than it’s been so far.”

“I’ll accept a pact when I get a good offer, not before. Now go start your bidding war.” Edmund waved him off. “I’ll just be here, risking my life, like always.”

Liam patted him on the back, the avatar’s hand somehow becoming corporeal just long enough to complete the patronizing gesture. “I’ll leave you to it then. You have fun!”

Edmund opened his mouth to answer with the scathing retort he absolutely had prepared, but before he could even draw breath, Liam had vanished. Taking one last glance at the now-empty alcove, Edmund turned to set his sights on the way ahead.

The path between the hills stretched no more than five feet across, leaving Edmund just enough room to maneuver a spear without allowing much space with which to flank him. Better still, if he stood at the pathway’s center, the heat aura from his swelter ring covered its entire width, effectively walling off his six from anything vulnerable to the swelter.

Liam’s words about throwing him a bone echoed in Edmund’s mind, reinforcing the necessity of the enchanted ring. Even though it melted the snow beneath his feet, changed the raging blizzard into gentle rainfall, and turned the hillsides into funnels directing mud and snowmelt towards him, Edmund kept it on. At the very least, it kept him warm, a bit of utility he hadn’t expected the ring to provide, but one he appreciated nonetheless. For all he knew, without it he’d be halfway to hypothermia. He just had to keep moving lest he flood the pathway with snowmelt.

He didn’t make it far before the wolves came for him.

Edmund didn’t hear them coming, his sigil-enhanced hearing failing to pick out the nigh-imperceptible crunch of snow beneath paw over the roar of the wind. They appeared first as shadows in the white out, silhouetted outlines that he sensed rather than saw. Edmund stilled, peering ahead through his cloudkith sigil as he waited to see what they would do. His boots sank into the mud as the snow melted around him.

In a smooth, unthreatening gesture, Edmund pulled his shield from his back and looped his arm through it, keeping his spear in pieces for the time being. Better to leave his hands free, he figured, until he knew more about his foes.

All five of them stepped into view at once, their outlines suddenly fading into visual detail as they emerged from the storm. It was only then that Edmund realized that their similarity to wolves began and ended with their shape.

The beasts stood over five feet tall, on four legs and paws as one might’ve expected from a canine. They had the same snouts and brutal incisors and pointed ears, all larger than any mundane wolf. The creatures lacked, however, a number of traditionally canid features, such as fur, or flesh, or bones.

Before him stood five giant wolves carved of clear ice. In lieu of fur, a chaotic mess of pointed shards sprung from their backs, solid and still and tilted back just enough to provide a sense of motion. Their tails hung limply behind them, similarly crafted of downwards-pointed icicles that looked like they could pierce flesh with the slightest bit of pressure.

The snowfall that struck them didn’t collect on their icy bodies, but instead seemed to disappear into them, merging with the creatures to become a part of the greater whole. Smoke drifted from the damp and dead grass beneath Edmund’s feet to give the beasts a name.

Frostfang Packhunter

The wolf closest to Edmund let out a bone chilling howl, a sharp and scraping sound that seemed to resonate with three dissonant tones at once. Its pack mates followed suit, joining in the haunting and threatening cry with howls of their own. A single wolf, the leftmost of the group, charged in.

Edmund braced himself, lowering his shield as he willed the segments of his spear to leap from his body and reform into the eight-foot weapon in his waiting right hand. His challenger’s mark burned on his arm as the wolf pounced, leaping from the blizzard at Edmund’s waiting form.

It didn’t live to make contact.

The moment the frostfang passed the threshold from the blizzard into the rainfall around Edmund, its features began to soften. Its pointed spines dulled. Its tail homogenized. Its teeth melded into a single, dull mass. Water droplets dripped from its figure as it flew through the air, leaving a trail of mist in its wake. By the time it collided with Edmund’s ready shield, the beast was no more than a lump of misshapen ice, cracked and melting in the sweltering heat.

It shattered against Edmund’s shield, a million tiny shards flying through the air in a glimmering display of beauty before they too melted away into naught but falling water.

The remaining wolves howled with rage.

Edmund, at least, realized what Liam had meant about this floor being a favor to Edmund. The swelter ring alone kept its primary monsters at bay.

The wolves prowled closer, realizing the fate of their pack mate and toeing the line of Edmund’s aura in response. One by one they triggered his challenger’s mark, and one by one their teeth grew sharper, their spikes longer, their howls more dissonant.

They sang out once again, their frozen canid throats joining together in an eerie mishmash of dissonance and harmony. The blizzard answered.

Wind buffeted Edmund, blowing against the sail-like surface of his shield. He held himself steady, leaning into the gale to maintain his footing, even as the force of it drove him back. He planted his feet in an attempt to stand his ground, but the quagmire of his own making offered little traction. He slid backwards, uneasy and off balance.

The wolves pressed forward, keeping just outside the range of his aura as the unnatural wind forced Edmund back. To what end, Edmund couldn’t guess. They threw no projectiles and made no charge, no doubt kept back by his heat. He wondered if, unable to kill him themselves, the wolves hoped to force him back through the entrance or simply stop his advance through the floor. Depending on their level of intelligence, perhaps they thought they could overpower or tire out his swelter ring somehow.

The blizzard above him sharpened into a deluge, the falling snow melting as it fell into a downpour of rain. Edmund wondered if he’d have been facing deadly hail without his swelter ring.

Either way, the wolves had made their pitiful attempts at killing him.

It was Edmund’s turn.

Shifting his spear over to his shield hand, Edmund launched a Firebolt at the rightmost wolf. The projectile flared brightly as it shot through the heat aura, steam bursting out in a cloud around it as it vaporized the falling water. In the brief second after it escaped the effect of Edmund’s aura, the chill seemed to take hold, diminishing the vigor of the flames. It traveled less than a foot into the blizzard before it struck its target.

The Firebolt extinguished immediately as it crashed into the frostfang’s jaw, sending shards of ice and water and steam blasting out in all directions as the very hot met the very cold. The vapor crystalized midair, glimmering brilliantly in the diffuse false sunlight for a few wondrous moments, painting the air itself in stunning beauty even as the wolf collapsed beneath it. All that remained of its head were the very tips of its ears and those spines furthest from the point of impact.

Two down, three to go.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, Edmund struck next with a Magma Fissure, cracking open the earth beneath the wolves. They yelped and leapt back, far too nimble to fall into such a trap, but the waves of heat radiating from the spell dealt damage enough. By the time the wolves collected themselves behind the great wall of steam the magma generated in the blizzard, several inches had melted from their legs, leaving them to walk on dull stumps rather than clawed paws.

Edmund blinked with a moment’s surprise as the Magma Fissure left him with less of a mental fog than it normally did. He recognized Obsession’s work, noting a month must’ve passed if it’d begun improving his mana pool.

Opting not to push his luck, Edmund dispatched the remaining wolves with yet more Firebolts, taking out the first two with a spell each, but requiring two casts of the fiery projectile to land a hit on the final frostfang. He came away from the encounter cursing himself for missing a spell but otherwise stunned at how easily he’d won.

Refusing to allow the simplicity of the fight and Liam’s comments about an easy floor to drag him into complacency, Edmund stopped for an hour to regenerate his mana, taking the opportunity to lay his bare hand against the muddy ground. After the all-metal seventeenth floor, his body needed the nutrients and moisture his rootmother’s sigil provided. Edmund wondered if the ready access to fertile soil had also been a part of Liam’s so-called favor.

He kept his spear divided and attached to his body as he set out once more, deciding a free hand with which to throw Firebolts was more valuable than a melee weapon within the confines of his swelter ring. The path wound to and fro for another hundred paces without incident before the hillsides retreated and the floor opened up before him.

Edmund’s cloudkith sigil couldn’t see more than some thirty yards ahead—a good twenty more than his eyes could pierce the blizzard—but what he did see held three determining characteristics: empty, white, and incredibly flat. The steep snowy hillsides that constituted this floor’s walls jutted out in both directions, disappearing into the whiteout before they gave any hint of turning back towards each other.

There was only white. A pristine blanket of soft snow stretched wide across the vast space, entirely devoid of flora, fauna, or terrain of any sort—at least as far as Edmund could sense. The clouds above shone blinding alabaster beneath the false sunlight, as the endless snowfall and powder blown in the gale painted the air itself in glimmering pearly hues.

He realized his dilemma the moment he saw what lay ahead. Still he approached, wanting to confirm his suspicion before taking action one way or the other. Sure enough, the moment he left the sheltered path for the open space, the muddy ground took a downward turn, and the snowmelt pooled around his feet. He took two more steps to cement his conclusion, finding, as expected, that with each the ground grew lower while the water level remained constant.

Edmund gazed out over the frozen lake and pondered his course of action.

He couldn’t travel straight across, not unless he dared remove his swelter ring or else go for a swim. Fighting off the uncomfortable impression he’d be going for a swim whether he wanted to or not, for the time being he’d keep his options open.

Traversing along the lakeside made the most sense. If the water was shallow enough, he could keep his heat aura active, and if not, at least he’d have a hillside to his back at all times. That way, the frostfangs or whatever the hells else was out there couldn’t flank him as easily.

Edmund selected the rightward bank, keeping the wall to his right to leave his shield between him and the open space as he traveled. His ring still on, he set off.

The frozen lake extended all the way to the very base of the hillside, leaving Edmund standing on a treacherously steep surface either above or below the waterline. Worse yet, the slope rejected his bids to climb it, growing suspiciously slick whenever he attempted to put weight on the higher ground. He tried once to ascend by slamming his two pointed spear-pieces into the earth like climbing picks, but the moment he tried to pull himself up, an obviously supernatural gale of wind would come and force him off.

“Okay, okay,” Edmund muttered, knowing Liam—present or otherwise—could hear him. “No climbing the walls. Got it.”

Keeping off the hill proved little better, as his boots sank deep into the soft silt, the mud clinging to his shins and ankles with a vengeance. Given the option between facing the frostfangs and the chill of the blizzard unprotected or trudging at a snail’s pace, a sitting duck for anything that could attack through his heat aura, Edmund chose to face the cold.

His ring stored safely in his satchel, he set off once more along the bank. The thick layer of snow crunched beneath his feet, the top inch or so flattening readily while that beneath it held hard-packed and firm. From the cross sections he’d seen as his ring had melted through it, he stood upon just over a foot of snow and another of solid ice.

He kept his eyes and cloudkith sense peeled for any sign of attack, but it was his ears that first caught wind of danger lurking in the whiteout. A multi-toned and dissonant howl echoed somewhere in the blizzard. Two more answered from somewhere else.

Whether he’d heard two groups coordinating an assault or one telling the other to back off, Edmund readied himself for battle. With his ring no longer keeping him at range, Edmund reformed his hyper-magnetic spear, pushing his hand past the second loop of his shield to grasp the weapon. It would be of little use there, and with his shield hand busy his defense would be less stable, but he’d be ready to switch from lobbing spells to deflecting attacks at a moment’s notice.

The wolves came six at once. They appeared in his sphere of perception in perfect sync, forming a semicircle around him to trap him against the wall. Edmund’s first instinct was to reach for his swelter ring and accept his immobility in exchange for its protection, but he realized the wolves could just back away and return to strike him the moment he tried to climb out of the ensuing morass.

Instead, taking care to avoid sudden movements as the wolves growled and postured, he slowly withdrew the ring from his satchel and palmed it. It’d make for a good last resort should he have need of one.

Even as his challenger’s mark activated, Edmund figured he wouldn’t.

Edmund struck first and with fury, launching a Firebolt for the rightmost wolf. The beast died before it could even let out a whimper.

Three of the remaining five charged in at once, the other two lingering behind as they opened their icy jaws to unleash their signature howls. Edmund’s next Firebolt ended the righthand attacker before it could take a second step, leaving him to grab his spear with his main hand and brace himself for contact.

The wind struck first.

A single gust of startling power slammed Edmund from behind, striking the back of his shield like a sail and yanking him forward and to his left. The force and direction of the gale brought his shield slamming directly into the pouncing leftward wolf, crushing its jaw with a great crack. It let out a whimper and limped away.

His spear managed no such luck. Edmund had more than enough combat experience to keep ahold of his weapon and maintain its direction, but the act of stumbling in the wind broke the stability of the stance behind it. The hard body of the third wolf slammed into his unstably held weapon and knocked it aside. Its tip scratched against the ice, but dealt little damage.

The frostfang slammed into Edmund’s chest, bowling him over and onto his back. His spear fell from his grasp, rolling away on the flat surface of the frozen lake. Deadly fangs clamped down upon his helmet, scratching and crushing at the ebonsteel. Edmund’s ears rang with the horrible sound of sharpened ice scraping against metal. His helm dented and warped with the force of the assault, but saved him from physical harm.

It didn’t stop the chill.

Everywhere the wolf’s maw touched, sharp and biting cold spread through the ebonsteel, first numbing and then burning and then numbing again the tender flesh beneath. Edmund struggled wildly to throw the beast from him, kicking and bucking on instinct more than anything else.

Normally in such a situation, he might’ve reached for his sword or slammed at the thing with his shield or thrown a spell at point blank range, all of which might’ve worked, and all which might’ve exposed his bare hand to further injury.

In this situation, he slipped his finger through the swelter ring.

The wolf leapt back immediately, a high-pitched yelp escaping from its lips. The snow beneath Edmund’s back melted away, soaking through his cuirass and leggings with water that felt warm to him but he knew to be scalding. He struggled to push himself to his feet, fighting against the slippery surface and unpredictable gusts of wind that sought to destabilize him. By the time he made it upright, the wolf had collapsed into a rapidly-melting lump of ice.

Only the two that’d stayed back to howl at the wind remained.

Edmund launched yet another Firebolt, ending the first survivor before it could raise its voice again. The final frostfang stepped back, realizing by its pack mates’ deaths the futility of direct assault. Edmund had no intention of letting it escape.

His last Firebolt struck the beast in the behind, blasting its rear into steam and melting away its tail and hind legs. Still it scrambled away, scrabbling desperately at the snow with its front paws. Edmund pulled the ring from his finger and climbed back up onto the ice. He calmly collected his weapon from where it’d fallen, trudged into the blizzard, and shattered the beast’s head with the butt of his spear.

No further howls echoed across the frozen lake.

Edmund returned to the relative safety of the hillside before allowing his heart rate to slow. He shivered violently against the chill, his face aching where the wolf’s teeth had touched his helm and his entire body growing numb as the frigid air assaulted his wet armor. Edmund stepped as close to the hillside as the treacherous surface would allow before returning the ring to his finger.

He lingered there for some time, sinking into the mud and allowing his feet to grow thoroughly soaked in the shallow water as he enjoyed the ring’s warmth. He waited as the swelter banished the chill from the air and Perseverance restored his frostbitten flesh, allowing his body to dry out as best it could in the ongoing snowfall. Only once he’d recovered to his fullest did Edmund set out once more.

His precaution proved for naught. No monsters made themselves known, no traps threatened to injure or restrain him any more than the biting chill or clinging mud, and no secrets lay hidden in the hillside. Edmund walked for what must’ve been hours, stopping with regularity to don the swelter ring whenever the teeth-chattering cold grew too much to bear, before the hillside finally opened up to reveal a wooden door with a veil of darkness behind it.

A chime rang out. A glimmering red chest arose from the frozen ground.

Edmund let out a curse. He knew he wasn’t done, that the exit and a piece of loot and a new Aspect weren’t all this floor had to offer. The obviousness of it all pained him. Liam had even made a point of letting him know this would be a particularly easy floor for him to clear, as if he’d somehow take the dungeon at its word.

Liam’s statement that he’d been doing Edmund a favor by offering an easy floor bore the direct implication that he shouldn’t question why it was all so easy. Implications, as Edmund had learned, didn’t have to follow the strict rules outlined in the accords about the dungeon lying to its delvers. Thrax, Liam might as well have shouted that some great challenge awaited him if he could manage to find it.

Edmund knew exactly where to look. The Eternal Depths hadn’t built an entire frozen lake just to stop him from abusing his swelter ring.

He went for the loot chest first, swinging open the metallic vermillion lid to reveal two gold coins and what appeared to be a frostfang tooth on a string. Edmund read its purpose on the rising smoke around him.

Frostfang Talisman

Twenty-four hour cooldown. Absorbs a single instance of a thermally-aligned offensive spell thrown at the wearer.

Edmund blinked at the strange talisman, trying to decide how useful it would be. Thermally-aligned seemed like a simultaneously too specific and strangely vague condition, but the ability to absorb an attack—even only one per day—sounded incredible. Any foe that wielded ice, fire, heat, frost, magma, and more would be effectively unable to sneak attack him.

He slipped it around his neck without hesitation, the second chance it offered—even in narrow conditions—well worth a floor’s loot. At first he tried slipping it under his cuirass, but the curved point of the frostfang dug painfully enough into his chest that he opted instead to let it hang loose. The thing seemed sturdy enough to survive a bit of bouncing around.

Once the two gold pieces had joined their compatriot in Edmund’s satchel, he shut the chest and sat atop it before closing his eyes to envision his constellation. Two potential strategies offered themselves.

If his ultimate goal was to level-up Madness as quickly as possible, the optimal choice would be to spend his next three Aspects on combining War with each of the tier twos of which Madness was a part. On the other hand, the resulting tier threes would be less powerful than the potential higher-tier confluence he could form next if he took a base Aspect immediately.

As Edmund recalled, conventional wisdom leaned towards always forming all available confluences with two tiers of one’s highest before selecting a new base Aspect. Since The Breach sat at tier five, he imagined most scholars would’ve told him to make every tier three he possibly could.

Edmund dismissed that bit of conventional wisdom right off the bat. Even if he decided to combine War with Madness’s confluences, he had no intention of making the other tier threes. He’d already decided confluences that didn’t include Madness weren’t worth his time.

He wondered if his unique situation counteracted the thinkings of the scholars. He saw the immediate benefit to upgrading Madness as many times as possible, but he also figured a significant chunk of the reason one might make every possible tier three was in search of more resonance. Edmund had already found his resonance.

The list of tier twos with Madness he’d gotten from that scholar back on the tenth floor popped into his mind, each more interesting than the last. He knew, intellectually, that picking a base Aspect would weaken him, that until he’d formed multiple high-tier confluences with it, it would be an incredibly inefficient selection. Still he wondered what a tier six might look like. Still he dreamed of what The Philosopher might become if he could just skip straight to leveling it up.

Edmund sighed, torn between what he knew he should do and what he wanted to do. In the end, surviving today took precedence. It didn’t matter how powerful his tier six would be if taking a subpar Aspect cost him his life before he even got there.

That left him with three options, or at least the decision of the order in which to select them. Obsession seemed the obvious choice. Smoke Lash, while powerful, had turned out to be more situational than Edmund might’ve liked. The Recluse proved similarly problematic, its upside hard to quantify and its downside, while pleasant, a significant issue on more populated floors.

Obsession’s downside he’d yet to truly face, and likely never would. Edmund had no intention of pausing his downward progress, nor of allowing anything to distract him from the vengeance he so righteously sought. With one last cycle through it all to confirm the soundness of his reasoning, Edmund selected Obsession and War, and formed their confluence.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Warmonger - Silver+ Resonance

Level 1 - Provides a greater increase to all damage dealt and a greater decrease to all damage taken while engaged in combat you initiated.

Edmund squinted as he read and reread the description, noting its similarities to War. For an Aspect called The Warmonger, he supposed that made sense. His newest confluence provided a much stronger version of the boon War did, with the caveat that he had to be the aggressor. He figured that’s what it meant to prove one’s obsession with war.

A quick glance showed that none of the four component Aspects had changed other than their increase in level, though he held out hope that Madness would get a new piece of text when it hit level fifteen on the next floor.

The sensation of the loot chest slowly sinking into the mud pulled Edmund from his thoughts. He blinked away his constellation to return to the world at large, pushing himself to his feet as he set his sights on the frozen lake. A part of him wanted to leave it, let whatever sleeping beast lie and simply move on to the next floor. It would’ve been easy. The exit was right there.

But Edmund couldn’t do that. His experience fighting alongside the Durne brothers had only reinforced the fact that he’d come to the Depths under leveled for its challenges, and that he needed every advantage he could gather. At the moment, his next advantage lay underwater, beneath a foot of ice.

His swelter ring still resting comfortably on his left index finger and his satchel safely stowed on the shore, Edmund stepped away from the swampy yet stable bank by the exit and into the lake. The ice cracked and melted around him as he waded in, slow but unyielding in the face of mud and slush. The water itself, which he knew to be frigid elsewhere and scalding near him, felt comfortably warm against his skin, a perk of his swelter ring for which he’d be eternally grateful.

Only once the water level reached his chest did Edmund complete the plunge, ducking his head beneath the fresh water to glimpse through its dreary depths. Darkness reigned. As well as the false sunlight managed to pierce the clouds and the snowfall up above, the thick blanket of snow and ice proved too much a challenge for it.

Were he not underwater, Edmund might’ve finally found a use for the torches he’d bought. Instead he relied solely upon his cloudkith sense and his best interpretation of the faint vibrations that tickled his ears. The latter proved that something lurked beneath the ice. The former revealed nothing.

Edmund stood, his head breaking the water’s surface as he came up for air and to reevaluate. His first conclusion was that he didn’t need to bother irritating his eyes by keeping them open underwater—the darkness rendered them useless anyway. The next matter at hand was to wonder if he really intended to swim, blind and immobile and unable to breathe, into a frigid abyss where Thrax knew what awaited him.

Of course he did. How did he expect to overcome the Eternal Depths themselves if he couldn’t even handle some not-so-eternal depths?

The layer of ice atop the lake gave him pause, less a barrier than a hindrance to his escape. He’d have to wait near the surface for his ring to melt the ice before he could come up for air, or else find some other way past it. Edmund had a few ideas.

He took a few moments to breathe, deep, slow, belly breaths with the intent to slow his heart rate as much as possible. Once he’d calmed himself as best he could, Edmund filled his lungs one last time and took the plunge.

Time slowed as the water enveloped him. Every crack in the ice above, every eddy in the water from his arm strokes, every pulse of blood past his ears seemed to come in slow motion, their tones deepened and muffled and stretched as he heard them.

Edmund kicked further down, following the slope of the lakebed. Unlike beneath the snow, the ground beneath the lake played host to no life. No grass—dead or otherwise—no algae, no seaweed populated the lake floor.

A deep and distant groaning sound traversed the waters to reach his ears, coming from everywhere at once as it bounced around off the silt below and ice above. Instinctively, Edmund raised his head to look for its source, his closed eyes accomplishing absolutely nothing as his cloudkith sense did all the real work. He found nothing but dark and empty water above and lifeless dirt below.

Until the lifeless dirt burst up towards him, a cloud of mud blooming around him in all directions. To anyone else, it might’ve proved a distraction. Edmund’s cloudkith sense couldn’t tell the difference between lightless water and muddy lightless water, peering through both without difficulty.

The ground itself slammed into him, crashing abruptly into his horizontal form with unceasing force. He sensed rigid scales the size of dinner plates up against his armor. Beyond that he knew nothing of the beast. His cloudkith sense couldn’t pierce a layer of compact mud, let alone solid objects, leaving him with the size and shape of the creature’s scales and not much else to go on.

Other than its size, of course. Across the diminished ten-yard range of his cloudkith sense, he sensed only the beast’s back. A row of raised ridges he took for its spine stretched down to his left, yet in both directions he only sensed where the monster’s back just began to curve down into its sides. Whatever had slammed into him stretched at least sixty feet wide and some unknowable distance long.

Edmund was going to kill it.

Water rushed around him as the leviathan moved, inertia sweeping Edmund across its back as he failed to find a handhold. He scrambled for his spear tip as the monster moved beneath him, palming the topmost segment with his right hand. With an overhand swing, he slammed the metal tip into the creature’s back.

It skidded off, scraping against the hard scales with barely a scratch.

The blunt mound of the leviathan’s spine slammed into Edmund’s left side. A great crack rang out, deep and echoey beneath in the dark water. No pain accompanied it, forcing Edmund to glance down to find the source of the noise.

His belt floated off him, the weight of his sword dragging away and up against the beast’s back. Edmund scowled as his chain of the lesser cave mantis fell away, its chitin links smashed to shards.

Snatching his sword by its sheath, Edmund drew the poisoned weapon. Clasping both hands around its pommel, he plunged the short sword into the leviathan, aiming its tip at the seam between two scales.

The force of the blow pushed Edmund up and away from the monster’s back even as the sword sank into its flesh. Edmund yanked on the blade to pull himself back towards the beast, achieving his goal at the cost of withdrawing the steel from the wound.

Before his eyes the injury knit itself shut.

Edmund might’ve muttered a curse had he the breath to spare. Instead he considered fleeing, his lungs already aching for air. He might’ve made no progress towards killing the thing, but he’d at least found it—not that something so gargantuan would’ve been easy to miss.

As he thought to kick off from the creature’s back, the site of the wound caught his attention. While the gash had knit itself shut so fast barely a drop of blood had escaped into the water, a narrow scar remained. The flesh sat raised ever so slightly, leaving a visible gap between the monster’s scales.

Edmund had his opening, one he’d surely lose in the beast’s enormity if he went up for air. He’d just have to be quick about it.

Reversing his grip on his sword, Edmund grabbed the propped-up scale to secure himself and slammed scorpion’s sting into the exposed flesh. The blade slipped in to the hilt, just shy of parallel to the monster’s skin.

Only then did Edmund activate Rend.

The short sword cleaved free of the leviathan’s back, taking a chunk of flesh with it. A three-foot gash remained, several inches wide and several more deep. This time, Edmund didn’t let it regenerate.

Tossing his sword to his left hand, he jammed his right into the wound, curling his fingers sharply into the cords of muscle below. The flesh regenerated around him, but Edmund didn’t mind. He had his handhold and his opening. All that remained was for his right hand—or more accurately, two of its fingers—buried in the leviathan’s back, to do its job.

Edmund reached his will through his two fingers of the crimson hand and began to pull.

Clarity, energy, and vitality flooded into him. Every wound on his body healed shut. Every ache drained away. Every sore muscle recovered entirely. Toxic carbon dioxide leached away from his body and into the water around him, banished by the healing effects of the crimson hand. Soreness and byproducts of anaerobic respiration pooled around his pores to be swept away by the fresh water around him.

His lungs still burned, still screamed for oxygen, but down here there was no air to be found. Instead, Edmund breathed in the leviathan’s very life force. What a monstrous life force it was.

The dark shadows that had begun to gather in the corner of Edmund’s vision vanished entirely as the flood of mana and stamina banished his body’s instinct to pass out from the lack of air. Time slowed. Excruciating moments passed as Edmund existed in an unnatural state of simultaneous suffocation and perfect health.

A deep and dull roar echoed through the frozen lake, its pain and rage distorted in the dark water. In a single move the beast jerked itself downward, the motion far sharper and more sudden than should’ve been possible for a thing its size. Displaced water rushed past him in a great torrent, tearing his hand from the monsters back, reopening the wound in the process.

But even as his hand came away, the life drain continued.

Barely perceptible to his cloudkith sense, two tendrils of smoke—an impossibility underwater—stretched from Edmund’s fingers into the leviathan’s open wound. Life force streamed along them, one healing Edmund and the other charging up a Blood Bolt.

New pains came and went as cells healed that didn’t need healing, over-recovering until new tissue grew where it didn’t belong, only to be killed off again as his body recognized the danger. Blood leaked from his eyes and nose as his body produced more than it needed or could even hold. Cancerous cells exploded in population and died off just as quickly, forming lumps and bruises and growths upon his skin that peeled off or healed over as the leviathan’s monstrous life force overwhelmed him.

Only once a veritable cloud of blood and skin and bile and pus hung in the water around him did the torrent finally cease. Edmund didn’t stop to wonder if the beast had finally died or if his connection to it had somehow severed. Already the lightheadedness returned. Already his lungs ached. Already his body threatened to pass out. He needed air.

Casting his attention to the leviathan below him one final time, Edmund made use of his capped-off mana pool and executed his escape plan.

He cast Magma Fissure.

He never saw the crack open up in the monster’s flesh, nor the magma that rose up to fill it. He saw only the bubbles as the water around it vaporized, exploding into a cloud of bubbles. The force of the explosion launched him upwards, the steam singeing his skin even as it carried him to safety.

He mistimed step two, his back slamming painfully into the ice faster than he’d expected. The steam faded away, robbed of its heat by the frigid waters. His swelter ring went to work melting the ice, but a fog had already spread across Edmund’s mind. He wouldn’t remain conscious for long.

Edmund Broke Through, shattering a great hole in the ice as he launched himself from the lake and into the blizzard air. He landed back down on the packed snow with a crunch. Sharp pain shot up from his left ankle. He managed a single breath.

Before Edmund could even get a look at his grossly-twisted joint, the ice melted around him and he fell, once more, into the lake. The buoyancy of his charbone leggings and boots pulled his legs up as the weight of his metal gear tugged his upper half towards the lakebed.

Edmund frantically swam to right himself, gasping for air as his face finally broke the surface. His ankle throbbed as he tried to kick with it.

Taking in a gulp of air, Edmund resubmerged to examine his injury. Gritting his teeth, he yanked on his left foot, popping the joint back into place. Edmund surfaced with a scream.

He tread water there for a few exhausting moments, fighting to maintain consciousness as Perseverance tended to his wounds. Whenever he swam up to the edge of the ice, it melted before him, clearing the way yet effectively trapping him in the water. Edmund knew he could climb up if he removed his swelter ring, but that’d leave him soaked to the bone in the middle of a blizzard.

So on he swam.

Minutes or hours—Edmund couldn’t tell—blended together as he tread water for what felt like an eternity, progressing forward only as fast as the ice could melt around him. He tried all manner of ways to speed his progress, but all efforts to climb on top of the ice ended with it breaking beneath his weight before he could take a step, while any attempt to swim under it required he stop and melt the ice anyway so he could come up for air.

Break Through proved an effective method for trudging through the ice, but he could little afford the stamina it cost, not if he had to tread water for much longer. Most of his effort went towards keeping himself upright, fighting off the buoyancy of his legs compared to his metal upper armor.

When at last he collapsed upon the muddy shore next to the exit, Liam was waiting.

“Well? Did you have fun?”

“Please tell me—” Edmund managed through panting breaths. “Please tell me I don’t have to swim to the bottom of the lake to get my loot.”

“No, no, it’s right here.” Liam replied, affectionately patting a second loot chest that had arisen. This new one shined a metallic pale green, built of the rare metal Edmund had come to know as mithril.

He lay there for another few moments, catching his breath and thinking through the absolute chaos of new and unpleasant sensations he’d just experienced. Mostly, he felt tired, though he knew he’d have nightmares of healing through the drowning for weeks to come. That was assuming, of course, he made it more than a week without some new horrible experience with which to form nightmares.

“I hate it here,” Edmund breathed.

“You love it here,” Liam chimed.

Ignoring the avatar’s comment, Edmund forced himself to his feet to approach the mithril chest, eager to see what kind of reward he’d earned for felling the leviathan. Inside he found a small pile of gold coins—eight in total—and a leather belt crafted of dark blue scales. Apparently, Liam had noticed when the leviathan had smashed his chitin chain.

Edmund picked up the scaly garment, admiring its metallic sheen as he read its name in the smoke.

Belt of the Slumbering Deep

Provides major protection against piercing, ice, and water damage. Allows buoyancy control of anything looped through it.

Edmund didn’t hesitate to wrap the belt around his waist and loop his sword through it. He would’ve been happy with a piece of plain leather to hold his weapons, so one with a myriad of resistances, no vulnerabilities, and a buoyancy enchantment to boot was a valuable prize. The eight gold—enough to more than double his previous fortune—wasn’t so bad either.

As he turned back to face the obnoxious avatar, Edmund noticed that rather than flashing his usual prideful smile, Liam gazed at him expectantly. Catching his meaning, Edmund shut his eyes and envisioned his constellation. Sure enough, an image of a dark scale had appeared, flickering unstably beneath his sigils.

Sigil of the Slumbering Deep

Gain greater health regeneration. Gain immense health regeneration while sleeping. Gain water breathing. Gain lesser dark vision. Gain lesser subaquatic sonar.

Edmund paled as he realized the cause of his newest sigil’s insubstantiality. He’d known for some time sigils capped at three, and thus that he’d have to give one up if he wanted to take another.

Thrax, did he want to take the slumbering deep.

Regeneration while sleeping held questionable value, but the greater health regeneration outshone even his level nine Perseverance. Water breathing and the various perception options all seemed narrower and generally less powerful than his cloudkith sigil, but would be nice nonetheless. Even a shadow of the absurd regeneration he’d seen from the leviathan would’ve been worth it.

That left him the question of which sigil to abandon. He dismissed the azure fox outright, its windsteps and enhanced hearing alone more than worth the sigil slot, even without its potential to grow.

His rootmother’s sigil provided zero combat utility, but the limited water and food he’d purchased for emergencies wouldn’t get him to the next hub. He knew he’d have to replace the sigil eventually, his dependence on Liam providing him soil from which to draw nutrients a weakness he couldn’t abide forever. Edmund swore to himself then and there he’d purchase at least a month’s rations when he got to the merchants on the twenty-fifth.

His cloudkith sigil made the most sense. It was his only sigil without a trailblazer bonus, and while a poor replacement, the weak dark vision from the slumbering deep would at least soften the blow of the loss. It felt wrong, abandoning his cloudkith sigil just after it’d proved essential to clearing the floor, but to be truthful, he’d only used it a few times since earning it back on the ninth floor. He’d make do with his other perception abilities.

The moment the thought struck his head, the image of cloudkith conjurer faded from his mind’s eye. The blue scale solidified in its place.

Edmund blinked his constellation away to find Liam still staring at him. With a sigh, he spoke. “I took the sigil.”

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you.”

“That’s because it isn’t.” Edmund stepped past him to gather up his satchel from where he’d left it. He paused at the lakeside to rinse as much mud from his gear as he could, managing to clean up fairly well if he ignored his boots. Those would have to wait until he found another source of water.

Liam blinked. “I’ve been more than generous.”

“And I’ve been more than entertaining,” Edmund snapped. “That’s what you want from me, right? Entertainment?”

“You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“Last I checked, there was nothing in the dungeon accords about exchanging pleasantries.”

“There’s also nothing in the accords about offering advice or useful information, and yet I keep doing it,” Liam said, a sharpness to his ever-casual tone. “The next time you receive a pact offer, I’d advise you take it. Bidding has already slowed down. Celestials are dragging their feet. I’ll drag things out as long as I can, but that means it’ll be a few days or weeks before you get another offer.”

“I want the right offer, not the soonest offer,” Edmund said. “I’ll wait.”

“Great, you should just know that the more specific your requirements, the less powerful you can expect your pact to—”

“I’m aware,” Edmund cut him off, stepping past the avatar again. Without looking over his shoulder, he approached the exit and addressed Liam one more time. “Don’t pretend you aren’t profiting from my selectivity. I know every round of bidding’s a payday for you.”

Liam didn’t speak.

“That’s what I thought,” Edmund replied to Liam’s silence. “I’ll see you on the next floor.” Without regard for Liam’s thoughts on the matter, Edmund pushed past both the dungeon’s warnings and the sharp memories of his experience beneath the frozen lake, and stepped into the darkness.

Edmund Montgomery Ahab, The Crimson Hand

Aspects Unlocked: 19

Tier 1 Aspect: War - Gray+ Resonance

Level 7 - Provides a lesser increase to all damage dealt. Provides a lesser decrease to all damage taken.

Tier 1 Aspect: Elements - Gray Resonance

Level 7 - Provides access to the Firebolt spell.

Tier 1 Aspect: Solitude - Red Resonance

Level 8 - Provides a greater increase to constitution while fighting alone.

Tier 1 Aspect: Perseverance - Gray Resonance

Level 10 - Gain health regeneration. Gain greater health regeneration outside of combat.

Tier 1 Aspect: Madness - Prismatic Resonance

Level 14 - See beyond reality. Touch the unreal. Shape your world.

Tier 2 Aspect: Fervor (Madness and War) - Gold+ Resonance

Level 1 - Empowers the effects of Madness and War for each consecutive second spent in battle.

Tier 2 Aspect: Sorcery (Madness and Elements) - Gold Resonance

Level 1 - Provides access to the Smoke Lash spell.

Tier 2 Aspect: Obsession (Madness and Perseverance) - Gold Resonance

Level 4 - Gain strength and agility for each consecutive day spent pursuing your obsession. Gain mana for each consecutive month spent pursuing your obsession.

Tier 2 Aspect: The Recluse (Madness and Solitude) - Gold Resonance

Level 3 - Empower the effects of Madness while alone. Lessen the effects of Madness while accompanied.

Tier 2 Aspect: The Island (Solitude and Perseverance) - Gray Resonance

Level 5 - Grants resistance to over-time effects while in groups of two or fewer.

Tier 3 Aspect: Focus (Elements and Obsession) - Silver Resonance

Level 2 - Doubles spell damage when attacking a single target.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Warmonger (War and Obsession) - Silver+ Resonance

Level 1 - Provides a greater increase to all damage dealt and a greater decrease to all damage taken while engaged in combat you initiated.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Philosopher (Elements and The Recluse) - Silver+ Resonance

Level 2 - Question the concept of truth.

Tier 3 Aspect: The Rift (Madness and The Island) - Gold Resonance

Level 4 - Provides access to the Rend active ability.

Tier 4 Aspect: The Tactician (War and The Philosopher) - Bronze+ Resonance

Level 1 - Deal double damage when executing a pre-crafted battle plan.

Tier 4 Aspect: The Target (War and Focus) - Bronze+ Resonance

Level 1 - Allows the marking of a single enemy as the target. The target takes increased damage from all sources.

Tier 4 Aspect: The Fissure (Elements and The Rift) - Silver Resonance

Level 2 - Provides access to the Magma Fissure spell.

Tier 4 Aspect: Rebellion (War and The Rift) - Gold+ Resonance

Level 1 - Grants resistance to mind controlling effects. Deal bonus damage to enemies above your level.

Tier 5 Aspect: The Breach (War and The Fissure) - Bronze+ Resonance

Level 1 - Provides access to the Break Through active ability.

Delver’s Mark of the Challenger

Empowers nearby dungeon monsters. Significantly increases the value of loot chests you open. Slightly increases the resonance of Aspects you unlock.

The Crimson Hand

Grants minor resistance to piercing damage. Bestows ownership of the Dread Gauntlet of Kor’Ilinesh.

Trailblazer’s Sigil of the Azure Journeyman

The fourth step on the Path of the Azure Fox. Increases agility. Grants two windsteps. Increases positional awareness.

Trailblazer bonus: Sharpens hearing.

Trailblazer’s Sigil of the Rootmother

Non-intelligent Strethian lifeforms will treat you as an ally. Gain the ability to draw water and nutrients from fertile soil.

Trailblazer bonus: draw water and nutrients from all soil.

Sigil of the Slumbering Deep

Gain greater health regeneration. Gain immense health regeneration while sleeping. Gain water breathing. Gain lesser dark vision. Gain lesser subaquatic sonar.