Chapter 777: Getting Classy

Chapter 777 - Getting Classy

The third stratum remains a point of fascination for many researchers due to several of its unique properties. For similar reasons, the various powers of the world make it a priority to establish and maintain vast swathes of territory within this region of the Dungeon. The first reason for this is obvious: the world pillars. To my knowledge, no successful attempt has ever been made at destroying one of the vast columns that support the overworld. Whatever material they are made of, it certainly isn't plain stone. There have been many who simply sought to mine or study it, but even with advanced tools they were unable to so much as scratch them. Which isn't to say that we know nothing about them. The outside of the pillars appears to be a layer of self-regenerating stone, similar to Granite, with a very high resistance to temperature.

This outer layer can be removed with some effort, only to reveal the black rock that lies within. It is this stuff that none have ever damaged, though it's possible that the secret has been uncovered and is held very close to the c.h.e.s.t by those who have it, since such knowledge would surely shake the world. It isn't known if the black rock, which is known by many names, is even the final layer, or if an even greater secret is held within.

Just because none have ever damaged a pillar, doesn't mean that the many nations of Pangera don't fret and worry that it is possible. For this reason, securing the pillars that support their own lands is seen as a key plank in any policy regarding the Dungeon. Not that this is easy to accomplish. Proxy wars are constantly being waged, attempting to seize control of a rival's columns, threatening to cut Dungeon empires in half by cutting the depths from the surface. This is without the constant threat of the demons themselves, the other fascinating aspect of this stratum.

Intelligent, vicious and capable of forming rough societies with shared interests, the demons are the worst form of barbarian tribe, capable of forming their own self-governing cities, kingdoms or even empires. Their inherent nature makes them shaky allies at the best of times who are equally as likely to act against their own interests as they are for them. The prodigious spawn rate of larval demons means the population is essentially inexhaustible, with new powerful leaders rising from the sea of larvae to replace the old within days.

During a wave, this process is exacerbated a hundredfold. Almost all major upheavals within the third stratum occur during these events.

Excerpt from 'Musings on Mysteries' By Elric the Wild Mage.

Morrelia vented her frustrations and mixed emotions on the blameless monsters until the bodies were piled high and she could no longer raise her blades. Exhausted and numb, she stumbled back to the camp, stepping aside so that fresher warriors could take her place.

The demons were strong opponents, without the advantages of her Legion issued Abyssal Armour, or her new enchanted blades, she'd be overmatched easily. With them, she was able to cut through most of the opponents she faced in the third stratum so long as her rage burned hot.

As a berserker, it was the fundamental key to her strength and her most highly ranked Skill, having upgraded it to the seventh rank only recently. Such power came at a cost though, she could only maintain that level of power for a short period of time. Without triggering her rage, she was weaker than most legionaries of her level, since none of the synergies and abilities that came with her Class were active. Once activated, she became a killing machine, incapable of feeling pain or fatigue, driven to violence and empowered to do it. But that only lasted five minutes.

There were things that could be done to push the rage to last longer, raising the skill level, various enchantments, a few tonics, but most important was the mental state of the berserker. Anger didn't come naturally to most people, which naturally made them unsuitable for the Class. As a child, her impatience and drive fuelled her anger, alongside her natural short temper. Later in life, it was the dissolution of her family, the loss of her brother and the absence of her mother that she channelled into the rage as she ran her own delve team and roamed the wilds.

For the moment, she wasn't sure how she should fuel her berserker Class, she had run out of things to be angry about. That is, until her father dropped that surprise on her.

Before she'd left, her mother had given her some advice on managing her rage, cultivating it like a flame.

"It will burn bright some days," she'd said, standing over Morrelia as she gasped for breath after a sparring session, "but that doesn't mean it's strong. Think of your anger like coals, deep in the heart of the fire. People get distracted by the flame, dazzled by it, but that isn't where the heat is. Even when I'm calm, or bored, or happy, deep in here…" she tapped herself on her leather b.r.e.a.s.tplate, "… in here, the coals glow red hot."

Which wasn't the case for ordinary people. Her mother was a freak of nature and one of the strongest women on the planet. A natural born berserker who had once managed to fuel the rage for an entire hour, a record in the Legion.

Too weary to worry about it, she found her way into a tent and fell into the nearest cot, once again failing to undress, causing the wooden supports to creak under the weight of her metal garments. She was so tired, she wouldn't have noticed if it collapsed.

When she woke, she emerged from the tent to find the camp cook had left the stew on the boil and she was more than happy to ladle herself a generous helping, only bothering to pull her helmet off when she realised she couldn't shove her spoon through the opening.

"You probably should clean yourself up a little before we get started."

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Titus' voice rang with disapproval but she merely grunted, not pausing in the slightest as she continued to stuff her face. As always, her father was clean shaven and neatly attired, his armour freshly polished and his leathers positively gleaming with a fresh coat of oil.

"Shouldn't you do some fighting?" she asked.

"I was," he said and sat down.

"I'm going to assume your weapon isn't as clean as the rest of you?"

He served himself a pot of stew and started eating.

"It was," he said between mouthfuls, "but like a dutiful legionary, I cleaned it."

She snorted and Titus crooked a smile before his regular, stern expression settled back over his features.

"Classing up," he said.

She g.r.o.a.n.e.d.

"Does it have to be now? I feel like garbage."

"I offered to let you clean up," he shrugged, "so here we are. Besides, time wasted is experience lost. As far as I'm aware, you don't have any other major Skill close to increasing in rank, so delaying any longer would be a waste. I think you've driven about as far as you can with your current Class and you should make sure you take advantage of having someone with my level of experience around while it lasts."

She flicked her eyes to him as he said that last part.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked slowly.

"Who knows what my next deployment is going to be, or whether you'll be part of it. If all goes well, you'll be put on the fast track, which usually means deeper deployments. They'll start you on the fourth, then maybe the fifth once you acclimate to the mana. You'll be pushed hard to see if you'll crack and sent against tougher opponents than you've ever seen before."

The slightly smug tone in Titus' voice alerted her to how he felt she would fare against the challenge, but she shared none of his confidence. The fourth strata? The fifth? The monsters at that level were crazy! Not even Anthony would be able to match up to many of them, and he was a giant a.s.s insect covered in literal diamonds!

"I really need to Class Up," she gulped.

Her father nodded.

"That's what I've been saying."

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