Chapter 53: Ch.49: Zero Quartz

Skill: [Analyse]

Designation: Inspection Type

A common inspection skill for combatants or those who have an inclination towards the martial arts. This includes adventurers, soldiers and guardsmen whose occupations are fraught with danger. Therefore, [Analyse] helps them gauge the might of their foes relative to themselves. Is the basis for the threat levels in the form of tiers as assigned by the guilds for monsters; the skill weighs how much of your own ability to pit against someone else in order to come on top; other esoteric parameters are applied by the World and cannot be quantified in discrete terms. Can be rebuffed by Obfuscation artefacts, some magic items or the analysed subject’s magical aura. -World Compendium of Skills , The Order of Vesper, Church of Thea

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‘They’ve come for me. Even this far north and they’d come for me’ the mage thought. Ralf Wyanmenor reckoned that he would have ended the skullduggery of house politics if he had taken his leave and left them to it. But lo and behold, they came stealing in the dark and damp tunnels of a dungeon.

Swift of foot and faint of presence, they came hired with daggers primed to stab. It was his fault that one of his party had to take one for him. Yet he stood while she wasted away, drawing her last breath.

Healing potions had long run out when the dungeon broke. Would a [Cleric] have made a difference? Maybe if he’d learned a healing spell or two, things would’ve been different. Some Generalist [Mage] he was; he thought himself to be well rounded and yet even a [Hedge Wizard] could have done better—

“[Ground Anchor]! [Fire Ball]!” spell after spell,l he lobbed at his suicidal foes. The numbers of foes was uncountable. What types of monsters had they faced? They kept on blurring into one another—he couldn’t tell them apart, bipeds, quadrupeds, hexapeds, pluripedes…all he cared about was pulping them to ichor.

Whatever shape, form, fang, or claw they came with, he care not. He was going to melt them with [Acid Orb], pepper them full of holes with [Pebble Burst] or outright incinerate them to ashes—

“[ Scorching Ray]!” he cried out mana burn be damned. His vasculi were already blue and soon, even his magic would fail him. If he pushed himself, he could even get the blue sickness.

But damn all the Crowns if they weren’t worth the life of his party member. He would trade his life for hers if he could because she did not deserve to go the way she was, not when her life still burned bright.

“ Oi! Get your head on straight!” someone called from the edges of his awareness.

Oh, he would sell his own soul to Vesper if he could let her breathe one more day. But if she fell before him, well, he knew who was responsible and as soon as he got out of that swamp hole, their blood was the one he was going to spill next—down to the last man. He was tired of living his life on the run.

“ Strina’s bosom. Someone stops him before he burns himself out!,” another voice. Cries of indignance rent the air.

If only he’d been more open, and trusting of the people around him, despite what his past had done to him. But sometimes, the past—the past troublesome claws. Once it dug its hooks in short of taking its own pound of flesh, it would never let one go and it came calling today.

That’s how they’d reached here, with their backs against a barely functioning safe zone fighting to survive by the skin of their teeth. Potions quaffed to the last bottle they run on fumes, the last of the healing potions that had been wasted on Ysinnia’s wound. And If help did not come, she would bleed to death. Even now whatever she had taken was fighting against the bloodbane poison that was causing constant bleeding.

“ Hoy!” a voice blared too close for comfort. Ralf whirled on the originator.

“ Easy! You got them to rights,” a grimy warrior told him. What was his name again? His head was pounding, his legs felt like lead weights. His stomach churned like one of those times he drank water after a skewer that was way too oily for its own good.

A gorge rose up at the thought and he shouldered his way past the [Warrior], eyes burning as he went to find a corner to retch. Ralf did not make it very far, he threw his guts up on the remains of the mother of all pluripedes.

That is when he realised, everything had calmed down. Now his cheeks burned with embarrassment for losing his head in the heat of the moment as he saw the mounds upon mounds of dead monsters. Most of them had been needlessly eviscerated by his spells long after they were dead. He groaned as a splitting headache made itself known.

‘Water, he thought, clenching his fingers so that he could cast [Aqua] through the nook in his fist. His vasculi twinged, telling him he had really overdrawn himself as water dribbled onto his chapped lips. It did not rid his mouth of the taste of copper that was so associated with taking too many of the mana potions.

Cursing at the realisation there were no more to be had, he laboriously dragged his feet into the nook they’d been using as a hideout. He counted his party members, Quinten the warrior was standing guard at the entrance to the nook, fingers twitching either from lack of the drink or exhaustion. There were bags under his eyes. Triston was nowhere to be found,

‘Still out scouting,’ Ralf mulled. The last two members well, he could not meet either of their eyes. One because he dreaded that she was on her last legs, the other, because of the guilt gnawing away at his conscience. He could not bring himself to say that he was the reason they’d been sabotaged.

“ Ralf,” a feminine rasp jerked him from his thoughts. He realised he’d almost fallen asleep on his feet. Ralf averted his eyes as he scanned the nook for a place to set his exhausted frame.

“ Ralf! Look at me,” suddenly there were hands holding the sides of his face in a vice grip. His hands were too bone tired to be of any use and the crook of his elbows ached badly. From his slit eyed gaze he dared meet Ahnaestra’s placid, almost inexpressive face. In the wavering light of their chromastone lantern, grime and dry blood marred her pink cheeks.

“ Won’t you try and send another [Message] spell?” Ahnaestra prompted. “ Please, for her sake,” the sylvmaid said, turning his head towards Ysinnia. He tried to raise his hands to pry off her grip.

‘You’re too cruel,’ he left unsaid. The sylvmaid was torturing him by having him look at the price of his failures. Ysinnia lay, breathing in a weak sighs; blood soaked through the makeshift bandages on her torso, forming rusty splotches. The bleeding had slowed but only because she was running out of lifeblood.

Her Canis ears were flat against her head. She barely had enough for her cheeks to stay flushed in spite of the fever. Her eyelids flickered as if she was fighting a nightmare of her own; she did not have long and Ralf knew it. In spite of that, he nodded weakly as if to appease the stubborn sylvmaid.

Grudgingly he nodded and Ahnaestra let go of his head. He brought his index finger and middle finger to his temples to concentrate on the spell; [Relay Mages] always claimed that it made visualising the spell easier.

‘[Urgent Message];[Elenaril Amberkeep]’ Ralf felt the matrix snap into place, but whether there was a connection or not he could not discern. It felt like groping in the dark and hoping that he’d find what he was looking for. He dared hope that even the guild clerk had survived.

For the umpteenth time, he tried against his better judgement and composed another message. His head throbbed warningly again; he had expended too much magic. Gritting his teeth through it he grasped at the [Message] spell matrix through sheer will of mind and snapped its elemental anchors into place. ‘We are in dire need of assistance,’ he sighed as he released the thread of connection, hoping that it would reach the other side.

“ It is done,” he croaked.

“ Rest…” he heard Ahnaestra mutter as he let sleep take him.

---

The probing sensation of the dungeon’s ward fell behind him as Arthur stepped into a haze of steam.

“ [Light]! Gah! What in the blue?” Arthur gagged as the repugnant reek hit him like a slap. He pulled back the scarf on the lower part of his mouth as he surveyed his surroundings on the bobbing orb of the magelight. The place was as humid as a sauna and twice as rank as garbage juice that had been stewing in a dumpster over the summer. Either he’d miscalculated the magnitude of his rune workings or―

“Ugh, I knew there was something fishy about the pyr mana in the air,” Arthur thought as he willed [Aer Mastery] to clear the way as he walked towards the focus of his excursion.

The rune workings seemed like they had been too effective for their own good. While he hadn’t been able to affect the dungeon rock with his mana as it seemed to be impervious to spells, it had been no match for the combination of runes he’d rigged. Combining [Saturate] and [Fulminate] had been the right call.

The stone had soaked up the water like a sponge and then the latter part of the working had caused it to expand from within, cracking the rock in places. There was a head sized hole where the rock had been.

Arthur willed one more mage light into existence and pushed it through the aperture into the space beyond.

‘Must’ve scared the bog rats too,’ Arthur noted as he squinted into the hole.

Then he realised that he’d not be getting through that way because that part hinged on Nora’s ability. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. As if it could not get worse, the subject of his embarrassment made her appearance.

“ Arthur― I still don’t approve of this. Let me go in your stead!” Nora called out, an inscrutable tone in her voice.

‘Ugh, kill me now!’ Arthur swore softly. He was grateful that the steam made it seem as if the blush in his cheeks was a consequence of the heat. Grabbing for the first thought that strayed into his mind, he blurted.

“ Can you imagine what first responders will say if they see a strange human male watching over an incapacitated sylvmaid!?” Arthur’s voice came an octave higher than he thought.

There was silence as the two regarded one another with flushed cheeks, the steam wafting in the air and the halo thrown by the mage light made the scene dreamy. Arthur wished the dungeon would split open and swallow him for putting the foot in his mouth.

“ I―ah…” Nora hesitated. “ Apologies, you are right; I should stay behind.”

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“ Right,” Arthur replied, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

“ Come, we shan’t talk of this until we’re done, “ Nora said, averting her eyes. The dhampir grabbed Arthur’s sleeve and pulled him towards the newly made entrance of a hole. He felt the latching sensation of [Shadow Walk] as reality transitioned into the shadowy scape.

Arthur blinked as the hole he’d blown out warped impossibly, becoming cavernous and then blinked again as reality asserted itself on the other side. He was already drawing his magelock pistol as soon as the ground reasserted itself under his feet.

Arthur turned to regard his companion but she had already left his side in wisps of shadow. Pursing his lips with anticipation of the bog rats he would encounter, he focused his senses on listening for things around him. He kept the mageslate in its carry case at his side just in case.

‘Stay alive,’ came Nora’s telepathic thoughts in a half whispered, if hesitant tone.

Arthur started at the voice in his head and realised it was coming from the telecry earcuff he’d clipped to his left ear. There were two modes for working a telecry however― thoughts only and sound. Arthur needed only to think out loud, as if he was deliberately speaking in his inner voice to send a reply. And Nora’s voice in his head was ethereally clearer than hearing it from her lips in person.

‘I will,’ he responded as he focused on the task at hand. He armed his magelock as he kept an eye on his surroundings. The arcane weapon was merely a breechloading flintlock with the innards of an airsoft rifle.

‘Thank my gun nut Uncle for those history documentaries,’ Arthur thought as he shuffled forward. He scanned the vicinity for the six rats that had pinged his rigged up mageslate and dungeon shard’s [Detection] range.

As for the magelock there was no safety to flip nor a trigger. The only mobile parts were, the hammer that shifted between different modes of munitions and a trigger guard that doubled up as a lever for repeating action.

The mechanism was designed by a family of German gunmakers in the 1600s. It had been that, or the repeating mechanism of the italian gunmaker Michelle Lorenzoni designed in the same time period. The latter utilised a lever on the side of the breech but had not been feasible for what he had in mind.

And seeing as [Aer Shots] wouldn’t always cut it for lethal options he had physical munitions made. He retrieved a tubular magazine containing six aspected monster cores of the aqer affinity layered inside a coating of silver. They had a single rune engraved on their face which served as a focus to trigger arcane effects.

While buying monster cores in bulk and having them worked on had been a cinch, contracting five different arbourmancers and a silversmith to work with different components of the magelock had been the actual challenge. Master Kolvar did find him out after all; it wasn't like he was trying to hide it.

At least if they consorted to put it together, Arthur would still be ahead in terms of advantage. Only he knew the intricacies of the Kalthoff system that transitioned flintlocks into repeaters.

‘ In honour of the German family that inspired the creation of this magelock, I dub thee, the Kalthoff Luftkaster Mark I’ Arthur mused as he made sure the tubular munitions magazine was secure.

‘ I am going in Nora―I’ll count on you to give me directions’ Arthur sent as he took his first steps. Nora had the sylvmaid’s map and would coordinate his advance in the dungeon through the telecry.

‘ That I will―and don’t you dare die on me Arthur. We have unfinished business,’ Nora responded. Arthur winced at the emotion that seemed to bleed into the connection; it sounded like half a tease and half a veiled threat.

‘Yep, she definitely read the letter,’ Arthur thought, exhaling a sigh. The contents of the letter were utterly ridiculous in premise but he had to hand it to the Elder, there was some wit in its execution. The moment they had stepped in the Undergrove they had inadvertently cemented their adherence to the plan.

‘None of that now,’ Arthur shook his head as he headed further into the tunnel. Sylvani made wraparound boots barely made a sound in the mud. Only someone with [Tremor Sense] could ferret him out and besides that, they were also waterproof and had a good grip.

Passing long-dead carcasses of bog rats, he shuddered at the sight. No matter how many times he saw them, up close, it was different from seeing a fox as roadkill because that is just how large they were. Some had puncture wounds in the middle of their brows or their chests from arrows.

Others had been shorn into parts that had been cauterised in the same instance like someone had used a blade of fire. Elsewhere, others looked as though they’d been impaled by ice, melted by acid or scorched full of holes by the magical equivalent of a laser.

Arthur grimaced, grateful that no decay had set in. Waterlogged soil kept the bacteria away and the bodies of the bog rats would sooner tan like leather than rot. A few looked like they’d been gnawed at, by their brethren no less. Said culprits were nowhere in the vicinity but that didn’t mean he would lower his guard.

‘Coming up on the first bend,’ Arthur sent over telecry as he willed another magelight to bloom ahead of him. His shooting form was the Weaver’s stance; his shooting arm was fully extended and slightly crooked lining up his pistol with the nose bridge.

The supporting arm was bent and supporting the Kalthoff Luftkaster from the breech but could easily transition to the dagger holstered at his belt. The stance was comfortable and could make quick transitions between targets. Also, it was suited to the fact that the Luftkaster, modelled after the Kalthoff flintlock, was a long gun.

‘Take the left,’ Nora transmitted. ‘The right is narrower, the footing is not great and the bog rats might have a warren in there.’ The emphasis on the latter part of her telepathic transmission was palpable.

The general layout was three large levels. However, unlike the Sepulchre type dungeons which were heavily dictated by artificial structures one could easily navigate with maps, Lair type dungeons like the Fetid Woods were not always predictable. He had to watch for offshoots of the main tunnel in which were potential avenues of attack.

Nearing the bend, Arthur’s heart skipped a beat when he thought he’d seen an after-image of crimson eyes blurring in the distance. He cursed, snuffing out the [Mage Light] and switched to his dwarven Dark Vision goggles.

‘I think I have contact with the bog rats’ Arthur said.

‘Careful, they can swarm you in a heartbeat,’ Nora cautioned.

‘ Don’t worry, this is not my first rodeo’ Arthur sent. ‘I have seen their likes before, remember? I’ll just have to be faster than them,’ he added.

‘What do you me― Oh’ Nora replied, coming to a realisation.

And Arthur retrieved the Azure Surfer from [Inventory Chest].

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The trick to gliding through the tunnel with the magelights, was to put them slightly behind his shoulders. That way he avoided messing with the [Dark Vision] from the dwarven goggles; they were in themselves not failproof just like ordinary tactical night vision goggles. Also, the mage lights also had the side effect of disorienting his foes just in time for him to zoom past them. Any who seemed in his line of sight immediately got shot.

‘[Aer Shot]!, [Aer Shot]!’ Arthur cast repelling a bog rat with two shots to the front. The wily fellow had been hiding in a nook ready to pounce from the air and got answered for it with a cracked sternum. Outside of a training dampening field, the lethality of the magelock was making itself known as the umpteenth bog rat keeled over with bloody froth in its muzzle

‘Blunt and penetrating trauma,’ Arthur noted as he did a pipe roll against the tunnel walls. He swivelled, pirouetting like a surfer cresting a wave as he drew a bead at his pursuers, several pairs of eyes crazed crimson and yellowed teeth flashed in the glare of the mage light as they traced trajectories around his shoulders. His breathing was slow, his heartbeat even―aim unflinching. Arthur depressed the trigger guard’s extension―he felt a monster core slot in from the tubular magazine

‘ [Affinity Augmentation]![Aer Shot]!’ he cast again. The [Aer Shot] carried out the muzzle in a momentary flash of blue like tracer round; a silvered aqer monster core went straight through the skull of a bog rat in the middle of the pack.

The recoil flipped it on its head, with an audible crack of its spine. There was no blood but that was not the end of it. Three heartbeats later, an outpouring of magic flash froze the bog rats in their tracks trailing bloody ice and brains from whence the enchanted munition had burst. Indignant squeals rent the air as Arthur brought the Azure Surfer about and zoomed off, leaving the incapacitated pack to contend with a sleek footing.

‘ Crowd control was a success,’ Arthur acknowledged as the scenery blurred past. At first, he’d used pure [Aer Shot] to gauge the lethality and needless to say, a lot of pulped eyes and bloodied fur did not disappoint. Aer might have been overlooked in favour of its derivative affinity in terms of damage output but more than made up for its low cost of casting.

Arthur continued to pick off the most brazen of the monsters who got in his way, clearing the way and then kiting the rest for an area of effect shot via the monster cores. They were literally falling over themselves to get at him, bunching themselves in one place and the magelock made it as easy as shooting them in a barrel.

And the fact that the only sound from it was the whoosh of air from the valves along the muzzle was welcome .The crackling of [Spark Bolt] or the loud clap of [Thunder Bolt] would have brought the whole bog swarm down on his head otherwise.

‘Coming up on another bend. Just how many of them are there?’ Arthur sent. It would have been difficult to gauge how much time had passed had he not had one of those sylvani horodials; it even glowed like a mini lava lamp as he flipped the clasp open.

‘You should be nearing the end of the last level―oh, our patient has roused.’ Nora sent back. ‘ A moment…she’s saying she’s received an [ Urgent Message] spell. All adventurers are accounted for and―they might need you sooner than later!’

‘ Aye aye, I’m on my way,’ Arthur responded. He leaned forward on the hoverboard and shunted mana to the magier engine and it responded. The arbourmancer’s work on its unibody was paying dividends.

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