Day 71

Molly St Claire

It wasn’t quite fury that she was feeling because Malachi and Warner came back in victory. The negative emotions were born only of frustration. Maybe a bit of resentment too. Maybe. They had accomplished something grand, and the cool-eyed woman never even had the chance to compete.

A floor in a day! Who thought that was possible?!

There had been an impromptu party in celebration, but Molly hadn’t really been able to enjoy the cheer. Her mind had spun and spun. Weighing the strength of those two’s parties against her own, summing up the potential dangers, and then calculating all of that into the odds of completing the same achievement. She refused to be left behind. Becoming a leader had made her strangely competitive, the witch didn’t like it. Not a lot anyway.

The issue was that there was no way to figure most of that out, not before getting there at least. Each floor was too unique and so far there had been no theme to connect them. Being the remnants of old experiments offered nothing real in that department.

Until she laid her eyes on the seventh floor, there was no way to tell what the odds were to match the same achievement.

That grinning face drove her. Molly needed to catch up to him.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Malachi to keep the two of them and their parties on standby. Her party and Vincent’s would go “scout” out the next floor. The battlemage only pressed them to be careful, the words were filled with the subtext of understanding. Yet he didn’t disabuse them at all from trying to match the achievement. The next day Molly and Vincent took their parties into the teleporters to go up to the seventh floor.

They ran into a problem.

Though the button to the new floor was lit up, it didn’t respond to her touch. Nor Vincent’s, or by anyone in their two parties. There was only a flash of red light.

She had her theory, but asked Damien, who was walking by, to try pushing the button. There was the familiar white flash and the man was gone. A few seconds later he was back from the seventh floor. They had their answer. The teleporter wouldn’t send them up to the seventh, no one could skip a floor. Which just added more atop Molly’s irritation.

Not even the obvious logic behind that soothed her like usual. It was getting in the way of her catching up. Wasted time.

There had been some fear that the floor would reset for them and everyone else who hadn’t entered with Malachi and Warner. From what Xavier had said about The Pit, that was a reasonable concern to have. Running the floors was how one became a Brave and the number of floors conquered affected their standing in society. A system like that wouldn’t let anyone cheat.

Luckily, Xavier was kinder in their case. The pylons she had been warned about were off and the Gate was open. They simply had to walk to the center, through a swarm of mimics.

A waste of time.

The door to the seventh floor was open and ready for them. Through the circular frame was a cut out of gravel and stone spires. Molly was reminded of the entrance to the second floor and the walk through the crevice. They would have to walk through an army of pillars that rose up to the sky every few feet.

Wind played through the pillars, filling the air with whistling and howls. She could see some were weirded out by the sounds. There was almost a hint of voices to it, but that was a distraction. There was a mission to complete.

“Vincent, how would you like to divide up the floor?”

“Left and right is fine by me, but aren’t you jumping ahead? We haven’t made contact with anything yet. Let’s push for the center for a bit, get the lay of the land.”

Molly frowned. Sensible. “Agreed. Would you mind if I took the lead then?”

All smiles, genuine by her measure. “Have at. How do you want us?”

She already had something in mind, the pillars would require a different formation than usual. Both parties would integrate for now. They would form two columns with skirmishers walking the sides. Vincent took the rear and the Sisters rotated on the sides. Molly took a position beside Annabell Mcknight; it was strange but nice to have a tank again.

The columns weaved parallel through the spires. Uphill and downhill, allowing only one pillar to separate them. Should a monster appear they would spin to place their backs to a designated one. So far there was only the talkative wind.

Her initial opinion of what people were hearing was that it was simply audio pareidolia. A trick of the brain turning the impressively varied sounds of the wind into speech. However, as the walk dragged on and she found her mind finally began to wander away from floor completion, there was something to hear after all. Faint, barely audible in the distance. Encouraging you to come find them with the message and the volume.

They sounded familiar too.

“Does anyone else hear their mother in the wind?” asked Russel. The earth mage looked haunted.

He wasn’t alone by the faces and a few admitted it openly.

Amelia shuddered while gripping her spear. “The worst I hear… is my ballet teacher… demanding I come in a tone that uh never ended well.”

“Yeah, fuck, I hear the siblings I left at home asking for help,” scowled Evelyn. “Fucking stupid, like I’ll believe that shit. WE’RE FROM ANOTHER WORLD SHITHEADS! They ain’t here!”

“I doubt what is doing this is that intelligent,” remarked Molly. “Perhaps just enough to sense us and the power to pick up the voices to use for their innate phrases.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Annabell. The tank kept her eyes circling, deciding rightly that the voices were a threat and needed to be found if close by.

“Come, come! Or help me! Over here… or maybe, come right now?” mimicked the witch. “Phrases of a similar nature, but nothing specific or detailed.”

Heads nodded.

“That tells me that whatever is speaking does not have any more power than to lift voices. Likely would be unable to process anything else.”

“Still creepy…” muttered Marceline.

“Agreed, but for the moment it does not concern me, nor should it you. None of us can be lured off by those voices and our target is solving this floor. Tangling with the maker of the voices may not be part of it.”

Vincent grinned, his mood apparently unaffected by the voices. “Now that you’ve said that, this floor is absolutely revolving around those parrots.”

“Superstition,” huffed Molly. “Let us keep moving.”

“One second actually. I think we need to get the lay of the land before heading on. We’ve been going for an hour and everything looks the same. I think these towers might just be the only feature of this floor, barring whatever puzzle we get to solve.”

She looked around thinking, agreeing ultimately, and turning to how to solve this. There was only one thing to look at. The spires of stone went up various heights, most were at least twenty, thirty feet.

“Someone will need to climb up and take a look around then. Did you have someone in mind?”

“No one better than our boy Russel! You got this?” The last was aimed at the earth mage himself. They got a smile and a nod to the request.

A quick shake out of the limbs and then Russel began to glow a rich brown as he approached a stone pillar, picked out for being the tallest one near them. His hand reached out and found a perfectly formed grip. For every reach upwards and step up he found the same.

Molly couldn’t deny that his Mana affinity made sure there was no one better at rock climbing. In a different scenario, anyone would be able to follow up the track left behind.

When the earth mage arrived at the top the stone peak flattened and gave him an easy place to stand. Seconds passed as his body shifted about, turning and turning. She wanted to roar for answers, but kept properly patient. There was simply no reason to rush their scout. No reason to be so reckless as to demand haste when none was needed.

Completing the floor in a day was her want, not the need of the Sixty.

No matter how easy it would be to spin that to herself.

“Spires as far as I can see,” began Russel. “Nothing really sticks out much, no glimmer of gold or anything fantastical to speak of. Just dips and hills, no pattern I can see. Wait… I can see some movement here and there. Big lizards, maybe? Leaping from spire to spire, but keeping pretty low.”

Russel’s head snapped upwards for another heavy scan.

“Nothing but bare rock and sunstones above. Huh, expected some kind of predator.”

“What about the general shape of the floor,” asked Molly.

“Mmm oblong? Kinda blobby honestly. I’d almost say this was the bottom of a canyon made by a cavern ceiling wearing away or collapsing. But just the bottom. Like they scooped it out, pocketed it, and brought it here.”

“Could be a replication of a natural occurrence,” she theorized. “Either would be within the capabilities of The Pit. Is there anything to aim for?”

Vincent added, “Yeah, there has to be something interesting around here.”

“Nothing jumps out,” replied Russel apologetically. “If I had to say something, maybe the center looks a little more artificial than the rest? We’re about halfway there.”

The swordsman shrugged. “Better than nothing.”

“Arguable, not that there is anything else.”

The earth mage climbed down and Molly was half tempted to scramble up herself. She relented though. Doing so might cast an untended insult towards Russel’s competence, which was not worth consideration. The desire rose from unsatisfactory results. Climbing up herself could wait until nothing continued to show up.

Am I overcompensating for the haste and pride I’m feeling? Should I just go up? Wouldn’t hurt would it? That’s just me overthinking it, right? Or is that ambition pushing at me again?

Russel saw where her attention was as he dismounted. “Did you want your own look? The handholds are pretty permanent.”

“What? Oh, no, thank you. I am sure there’s no need. Just, it is very surprising that there are no landmarks of note.”

He laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, weird right? Guess it really is getting harder.”

She nodded simply at that and moved to take her place at the front of the columns. A few moments later, they were heading out on the bearing the earth mage had gotten from the climb. Not the easiest to maintain, but they hoped to get close enough that it would be obvious.

Russel had his doubts about that.

A ways into the new stretch, the parties ran into the first visible life of the floor. Scattered in front of them was a herd of goats gnawing on the lichens that added color to the gray and black landscape. Rust fur with white designs that gave them a primal look. The beasts stared them down while going about their business; which was standing, gnawing, or parkouring off the spires.

The goats showed no interest in moving out of the way.

Annabell approached them first. Cautiously in case the beasts were carnivorous or secret monstrosities. They were simply ornery goats. Always staring, but willing to ignore their passing. Except if you touched them.

The tank had decided to thoroughly test out the possibility of “more tongues and teeth than were visible” theory by nudging one out of the way. The goat reacted as if greatly insulted. Screaming and thrashing to the silent audience of its peers. Reared up then charged Annabell, horns first. There was a terrible clang against her shield and she was pushed back a foot.

Instantly the goat ran off, hopping about joyfully as if claiming victory.

Everyone made sure not to bother any more goats as they slipped through or around the grazing herd. The entire time being watched as if strangers in a small town.

Things were uneventful after that. Until Molly checked her watch and more than an hour had passed. The last time she had checked there was five minutes left until arriving near the center, but the time clearly showed thirty-five minutes had passed since that check.

“Stop! Russel, please climb up that spire and tell us where are in comparison to last time.”

Vincent slipped to her side as everyone shifted to circle the chosen spire. “What is it? Somethings wrong?”

She showed him the watch, but he only raised an eyebrow. The witch rolled her eyes before explaining. “I lost thirty minutes of time. Meaning we did, the question is the manner of that loss. Did we keep walking or stand still during that lost time?”

“Wait, that’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it? Couldn’t you have dazed off or something while walking? Being on high alert can make time slip pretty easily.”

“You are seriously asking me if I lost track of time?” Molly stared him down.

“Right. Never mind. I didn’t notice anything.”

“Neither did I until I saw the jump on my watch. Whatever happened was seamless.”

From above came Russel’s report. “We’re past the center somehow. I can sorta see where the entrance is and it looks like we walk right past the center. Not too far if we want to turn around.”

“Thanks, come down and give us the bearing,” called up the swordsman. “What do you want to do?”

“Do you have the markers Malachi had made?” asked Molly as she formulated a plan. They had been looking for something strange and this was definitely worth noticing.

“Of course.” He showed two thick pens, red and black. Minor trinkets that could write on any surface. Mana imbued and permanent without serious effort.

“I want you to mark every spire we pass. Single stroke, trying to do it with a rhythm like you are not thinking about it. Automatically, you understand?”

“Alright, doesn’t sound too difficult. What are you thinking here? That I’ll stop once whatever happens takes over, but maybe I just keep doing it the whole time.”

“And then we shall know which it is. More data is always a good thing. I am going to try tying a string.” Putting words to action, Molly created a purple string from her Mana and lassoed it around the pillar Russel was climbing down. “This should give us an idea of the direction we went. Thirty minutes seems too long for how close we still are.”

The parties turned around and tried to trace their steps. She kept her eyes on the watch while reeling out string from her other hand, trailing out from her pointer and thumb. Vincent strolled while slashing with the red marker. Everyone was trying to be alert to the loss of time.

She noticed this time when the switch off came. A sudden pressure that fogged the mind. The witch’s stare was trapped on the watch and everything beyond it blurred until sudden clarity showed the hands had jumped again.

Molly spun to look behind her. The string was intact and Vincent’s markings only started up a few steps behind. More interestingly, the purple line showed that the past half hour hadn’t been spent walking slowly in a straight line. The string was wrapped around a circle of spires. They had gone around the center a few times before matching up to the original route.

“Curious,” smiled the witch. “There is a mental effect protecting the middle of this floor. We can’t approach without being diverted, but why does it also have us circle the center?”

“Maybe as a hint that there is more to it than us walking past and missing the center,” offered Vincent as looked at the same clues. “Could be as simple as that.”

“Not sure I buy that. It could, but this might be one of those moments where we are missing the cultural significance.”

Swordsman shrugged. “What do you want to do then? Test the effect out some more, figure out the boundary?”

“No,” settled Molly. “The answer will not be found here, I think. This looks like a goal to me, not the hint or the mcguffin we need to find to clear the floor.”

Before the two of them could decide on the next step, a horrible cacophony rose up as the goats stampede past them. The beasts jumped through people with acrobatic ease while screaming the whole time. The only silent ones were those that got too close to the center. Whatever was there could catch them too and those goats began racing around the center.

Vincent drew his sword as Molly turned her attention to the direction the stubborn bastards had come running from. A rumbling patter came to their ears, then a great shadow appeared. Rolled across the ground straight for them.

Most eyes dropped down to the approaching shadow, but Molly frowned upwards. That was where the pattering was coming from. Chips of stone flying from an unseen impact on the peaks. She raised her hand and cast Specimen’s Shackles. Purple streaks launched forward to snap around a huge bulbous figure. The invisible creature began to flicker as the Mana strings tangled the limbs and revealed the shape of the monster.

A massive beetle with three sweeping tube-like tongues. The extremities reached out to them as the monster's skinny legs struggled to stay balanced atop the pillars. She could feel the wind of suction trying to pull them inside.

“That’s just gross,” griped Vincent as he burst with rose light. The swordsman zipped forward and grandly struck once. Three blades of light minced the mouthy tongues in a gory display.

Morale definitely improved to see those things removed.

Everyone rushed into position as the beetle screamed like a chorus of tuneless horns. Arrows flew and cursed flames licked as Molly held the monster tightly in place. Russel dug his hands into the ground, every spire around the target shifted but one. Its great weight dropped the beetle straight onto the spire beneath. Chitin cracked and ichor sprayed as the rock impaled all the way through.

Now closer to the ground, the monster had no chance.

Blades spilled more ichor and the witch’s threads slipped inside. She cast curses through the strings, the insides rotting or withering away. The moment the monster died Molly already had its essence well in hand.

“Rise my new steed!”