Day 70

Malachi Armstrong

Days of relaxation and training had come to an end, at least for his and Warner’s parties. Valerie had completed their new equipment and then their days of attunement were completed. It was time to continue up The Pit. They were ready.

The leader of the Sixty had decided to put his faith in his people’s power. Two parties would begin the exploration of the sixth floor and the other parties would join them once their attunement training was finished as well.

Malachi’s training had resulted in more changes than simply new equipment. It began with the mechanical arm and cascaded from there. Having his right arm back was plain bewildering. The feeling was alien, and not because it was a prosthetic. Through Mana, the connection was seamless. He had simply gotten used to the lack and relearning the use of an arm took time.

Having one arm had become distinctly the norm, even when the battlemage had missed the lost limb dearly. During fights and in the deep of the night, most of all. There were a few times when his resolve weakened. When any price for normalcy was warranted.

In those dark moments, the loss of one golden band seemed unimportant.

He was proud of himself that the impulse never went further, remained only a guilty thought. Every life was precious and Malachi meant it. Sacrificing a gold band would have been heretical to his own wood.

Still, having both arms again was exalting. At first, the battlemage didn’t know what to do with his literal extra hand. Casting Fire Blast and other spells through the sword had become second natural, even when the blade was enchanted with another element. Naked was the word for how the empty hand felt.

Trying it in different ways didn’t help the off-feeling. Switching jobs or changing up the hand in the middle of the battle. Neither helped. Though Malachi learned that he had become ambidextrous. His dumb left hand had become strong as the right.

There was practically no difference with wielding a sword in either hand.

That sparked an idea, what every sword-loving kid dreamed about doing.

He got a second sword.

Interrupting Valerie had been the hardest part. The arcanist hadn’t been pleasant about dropping another item into the queue nor having the new sword slipped in with the order for his other equipment. Not that the crafter seemed unhappy that her creation proved so empowering. She was just a difficult woman.

Learning to dual-wield was the first half of his attunement. It was as hard as he expected. There was a grand gap between using either hand viably and using swords simultaneously in both. Frustration at trying to find the rhythm might have dashed his dreams completely if not for Vincent. The swordsman didn’t devote himself to the style, but knew several styles well enough to pass on the basics.

A pamphlet from the Screens also gave him support through the same hypnotic effect the grimoires had.

After that, it was just a matter of hours burned to ingrain the new instincts and find himself within the style. Malachi found real satisfaction in the discipline. Learning dual wielding hadn’t been a hassle whatsoever. It was a puzzle to solve. Completely a pleasure.

A stress-free one too, since no one else was involved.

Then came the shiny new equipment. In comparison, attuning with the upgrades was a breeze. It mostly came down to learning control and focus with the new boosted power. Valerie’s work was more than protection, which was an enhancement too. His Mana flowed better and the armor resonated to make every casting stronger.

The new armor came with a gauntlet that was a twin to his mechanical arm. The silvery metal reached up to the shoulders into pauldrons. The chest and leg pieces were a mix of primarily leather with metal augmentation. Keeping his movements overall light, but his arms could be used defensively in tight spots. The boots were similarly designed while also being chock full of utility enchantments. Everything one needed for wall walking, skydiving, and more.

Atop his head was a new helmet that was a lot more dynamic than the leather cap he had been using before. In fact, it was embarrassing. Valerie had ignored his redesign pleas entirely. Worse than ignored, sneered joyfully.

There was an unmistakable impression of a crown in the molding and etchings on the brow. Malachi was glad of the mask attachment. Made him feel detached from the whole thing. At least he couldn’t see it.

Getting a new helmet would be a waste anyway, the arcanist's work was just too useful. Together there was harmony in the set.

In the end, his grumpiness was wiped clean by the new sword. Sleek and then thin like Vincent’s, but shorter to be equal length as the stone sword. The blade was made of a white metal that contrasted with the ink-black handle. Silver knotwork subtly covered the sword in reflection to the braids of the stone sword.

Malachi decided after careful consideration that the stone sword would shift to his new right hand and the left would use the metal one. His first sword proved a better channel for magic, almost like Damien’s staff, and the mechanical arm only compiled on top of that. Valerie’s design was geared towards enhancing direct contact as suggested by the battlemage. Either sword could do the job of the other, but they had their obvious specialties.

The final piece to his new set was an amulet purchased by Julia, in exchange with one Malachi had bought her. Amusingly, they both had tried to surprise the other.

His gift to the shieldmaiden was a small polished stone tablet made into a necklace. It depicted a warrior in a runic design that seemed to shift with every glance. Malachi had seen her in it. The description in the Screens had said that the amulet was a holy relic that gave guidance and protection.

Given to warriors as a prayer for their homecoming.

Julia’s present was an amulet of tangled metal that the battlemage had trouble trailing. A sphere shape that was made of several strands of different metallic tints. She told him that it would bring wisdom and bring clarity of the mind.

Both were the sort of things you would find in folklore and gift shops, but this was a world of magic. When they each put the amulets on, there was a flash of Mana. Though neither felt different or an effect, the two of them had stood still for a while feeling out sensations. Focused on trying to notice any difference if they could. it was decided that something was probably happening. Maybe.

Regardless, there was comfort in their exchange. Each now had a token of the other’s love. That was protection and comfort all on its own.

It was with confidence that Malachi led the two parties up to the sixth floor. A decision that came down to simply who had been ready in time. Had another party leader deemed themselves ready, it would have been three. Instead, Warner’s party was the only one to catch up. Stunning everyone by overcoming being the third party to meet with Valerie by the lottery.

The array of upgraded equipment gave everyone a unique look. Before, their armor had been matching since the pool of recommendations had been limited. By price as well as ease of use. Only magic and weapons had differentiated the Sixty.

Now everyone stood out on their own.

Damien was the very image of an arcane wizard, glowing and robe fluttering without wind. Clarissa looked like an ancient hunter, leather decorated in a colorful and primitive style. Ironclad with sapphire accents, Julia looked unstoppable and immovable. In a gilded robe, Harken looked like a priest during a high festival or ready to bless a great war. An unfamiliar script sung from the pure white cloth. By demand, Anastasia’s equipment was more practical. Combing a mage robe with armor. Reflective metal pieces kept the aquamarine cloth tight against her body. Reuben’s new outfit was plain as the last, but full of tricks.

Similarly upgraded, Warner’s party followed them into the elevator. The brawler gleamed in red armor, a mix of organic orichalcum and the traditional alloy. His bruisers were armored in opposing uses of gold and black. Jorgenson followed Anatasia’s trend, but with an emphasis on close combat rather than defense. Streaks of brass and green hinted at the windstorm at her heart. Conor Murphy was draped in yellow and gold robes while Brice Reid was dressed like robin hood.

Together the two parties took the teleporter, in a flash they were in the corridor between. Malachi felt impatient as he headed toward the sixth floor. The numbers around him felt too few. It was hard to accept the risk of going with so few. Even if as the leader it had been his call and had been the state of the Sixty in the beginning.

Going all together was the normal to him. Safer. Infinitely so.

But, they had asked Malachi to trust in their strength. He wanted to respect them and that plead. Playing it too safe could be just as dangerous in the long run. The Pit would only grow more difficult. The higher the Sixty rose, the greater the dangers. No one could doubt this. Keeping an edge would see their power grow healthy.

That’s what the battlemage told himself at least.

His preference was to blast everything away as a group, but he had to admit that the floors might not always allow that. The parties needed their teamwork further trained in case of such a scenario. So with pressure and by logic, the leader of the Sixty agreed to the plan.

As long as everyone was careful, parties could operate on their own.

After scouting, which was what they were doing today.

The golden door rolled away and foul air rushed into their noses. It was the rank smell of animals or excrement. They were hit with a cornucopia of smells that one expected from a junkyard. Ever shifting as different bouquets tickle your senses.

Debris spread out before them in rolling piles of trash under low ceilings. There was almost a parking garage feeling to the cavernous space, pillars breaking up lines of sight in the dim lighting of glowing moss. Rubbish shifted like dunes between or around the bigger objects all piled together into islands. All of it had an arcane spin, but any of this detritus could have gone unnoticed in a dump back on Earth.

Malachi was certain this was actual garbage from the now dead human civilizations. It was so mundane to the eyes that he immediately grew suspicious. Nothing moved but trash in the wind.

“Well, this whole thing feels like a fuckin’ trap,” rumbled Warner, stepping up to stand beside the battlemage.

“One hundred percent… Let’s stick together until it's been tripped at least once.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Carefully the two parties crossed the threshold. The footing was bad, unstable, and with hidden holes. Every step was an announcement to most of the party. Reuben and Clarissa seemed the only two able to keep silent.

The scout looked about, a squint and tilting of the head. “I don't think this floor is round this time around.” He pointed out the pillars, alongside the sheer walls that left the gate in a corner.

“Huh, suddenly a square eh?” blinked Clarissa. “Why does that make me nervous?”

“Might just be the silence, but any divergences could be a signal of a surprise,” replied Malachi.

“Eh, nothing new with that. Bet there are some giant worms about to jump out of the trash at us,” grinned Warner. “

“What does that have to do with the floor being a square?”

“Uh, nothing. I’m just trying to ignore that, ‘cause yeah that’s disturbing for some reason.”

Reuben gave them a blank look and then turned back to the cavern of rolling rubbish. “Too dim to see far so exploring is the only way to get an answer to how this floor has been uniquely twisted.”

“Ugh, time to tromp through garbage…” grumbled the redhead.

They spread out in a pre-arranged order. Casters in the middle with the tanks while the skirmishers circled loosely. The moment something appears everyone would collapse inwards to reposition. It wasn’t as comforting as battle lines, but the formation worked in open areas.

Guiding themselves along the low areas, Reuben and Clarissa climbed piles to look for anything of note. Smells shifted, rust to mildew to rot to oil to something spicy before rotating through again. Though the spicy smell lingered stronger and stronger.

Detecting this floor’s monster by listening was neutered. Every sound echoed on this floor. Each step caused collateral reverberations. Like dragging your feet through a leaf pile. An avalanche or two wasn’t uncommon either. Made noticing any sounds not made by them almost impossible to pick out.

Malachi took up the back as something itched at the neck. Once the parties entered the maze of piles and pillars the sense of being watched had fallen over their shoulders. No movement or obvious eyes to see. Just trash. Yet some repetitions began to bug him. A cracked box or familiar pile of clothes. They seemed to have a twin just around the next bend. The number of coincidental items began to climb at every turn.

By the time the battlemage put it together, everything went wrong at once.

Reuben’s foot broke through the trash into a pit with a curse. The scout’s stumble turned into a full collapse as he screamed. His foot lifted into the air a tentacle monster gnawing on him and for a second it vaguely looked like a cardboard box. As if this was a signal, unremarkable trash around them sprouted eyes and tentacles.

Julia became embroiled in a fight with a toothy washing machine while Zachariah and Elenia protected the mages from sculling cans. Clarissa dipped and ducked towards protection as trash creatures sprung to life around her. Panic shots kept the larger ones away. Slammed to the ground, Warner wrestled with a hungry chair that drooled. It sizzled on the red armor.

The battlemage rushed to Reuben first as the two parties responded to the sudden swarm. Lighting crackled to life on one sword and frost collected on the stone sword. He simply touched the blade to taze the monster slobbering on the scout. Together the two fought back to the others. The moment Malachi arrived, he unleashed a full charge of ice over one side of the battlefield. Securing at least one front as they faced the menagerie.

However, not even the ground below their feet was safe. The compressed trash was ripe for burrowing. Malformed creatures shot out of the ground to latch on to whatever they touched. Only their armor and Mana kept them from becoming a bloody mess.

Damien countered. Violet power flashed and they were lifted into the air on a disk of Mana. The larva monsters continued leaping towards them from below, slapping the barrier like popcorn kernels. Being lifted didn’t slow the bigger ones. They grew tentacles to climb up or over each other.

It was quickly becoming a siege fight, and that was only a good situation when the numbers in play were to their advantage. The monsters were endless. They didn’t have the numbers to rotate out exhaustion. One of the very scenarios that Malachi worried about getting stuck in without the entire Sixty around him, but he wasn’t a quitter. Or faithless. There were more cards still to play.

“Mimics are the worst!” cringed Clarissa as she fired into the crowd below. Something about these monsters actually unnerved the redhead.

“Ugly suckers,” grinned Warner, who was whacking them into the distance if not outright splattering them.

“Warner, Julia,” called the battlemage. “Modified Trident with me. Damien, Anastasia, Jorgenson Napalm, one hundred feet. Clarrisa, Officer Countdown. Everyone else focuses on defense.”

Initial confusion faded as everyone was giving stricter directions.

Three figures leaped down while three shades of Mana began to glow above the swarm. Malachi called power into his swords and landed in a spiraling spike trap of translucent spears. Adjusting the barrier spells had gotten easier. From this cleared spot the battlemage became a whirl of death. Lighting, ice, and flames poured into the horde of monsters. Warner landed in a cannonball of orange destruction and laughed as he danced through his foes. Blue flashed as Julia’s perfect defense and offense made the shieldmaiden seem to stand still as everything died in a radius around her.

A storm descended. Howling green-gray power raged around them. They sat at the eye of the storm as everything beyond the wall was scoured or tossed aside. The horde began to slow, smaller mimics being flung about in the air. Violet orbs began to crash through the wind wall and lit up the unseen in a series of explosions. Just a trickle now.

Silver light flashed as a copy of both spells merged into one. An erratic swirl of violet power crushed down Jorgenson’s storm and blew away the trash over a hundred feet in all directions. The few large items still nearby were scorched.

The two parties waited in their positions as silence returned. Free of trash, they stood on perfectly flat stone. Nothing crossed the line into the cleared area.

“Is that it?” asked Julia

Clarissa glared down at her friend. “Shhh! Don’t jinx us!”

“Um, how come we get swarmed every time we uh go to a new floor?” wondered Anastasia with heat.

“Fresh meat,” nodded Warner wisely.

“Probably not too far off,” agreed Reuben. “We’re like a new menu item, everyone wants a taste.”

“Until we blow them up to kingdom come,” smiled Malachi.

A thumbs up from Jorgenson, “Then they know we ain’t to be taken lightly.”

“Exactly. Of course, there is something refreshing about frontal assaults like this. I’m sure we’ll come to miss it after a couple of dozen ambushes.”

“That’s all mimics are good for,” grumbled the redhead. She eyed the trash piles with contempt and paranoia.

A new problem arose a few moments later. Cores began to form, even from the tiny mimics that created marble-sized cores.

“Shit, that’s a lot to collect…”

The after-battle pick-up took longer than normal.