Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 397 - The Flames of Dispassion III

Claire swiveled her body to and fro as she dived her way through the depths. There was a veritable line of dead marine life left in her wake. Killer whales with bodies made of ice and fire, skeletal sharks measuring a full kilometer long, and sea serpents with venom potent enough to melt her scales outright. They were joined on occasion by skeletal fighters—undead grugs with bandanas strapped over their heads and blades of light that cut straight through the darkness.

Though they lacked the ability to negate fatal blows, the warriors were as skilled as the knights at the end of the first floor. Their swordplay was perfectly adapted to the underwater environment, and their use of three dimensional space far outclassed her own. Still, they made for easy kills. She ripped them apart with her vectors whenever they approached as she continued towards the mountain buried within the depths.

The underwater volcano became visible again as she disassembled one of the skeletons with its own blade. A ball of white-hot fire suddenly rose from its crater and cut through the water. Even with her vectors, she wasn’t confident in her ability to navigate out of its path.

Her position was certainly a problem—she sat smack dab in the middle of its radius—but it was hardly the cause of all her woes. The attack was as fast as lightning. It shot by with such vigour that it could have easily caught her had she failed to immediately take note. Granted, such a failure would have proven impressive in its own right. The whole ocean lit up each time the volcano erupted, and all the water nearby would evaporate well before the flames would reach her. They were so hot that they blackened her scales each time she was struck directly.

The first such attack, she had only endured by accident. Thinking that the plumes would be easy to move with her magic, Claire had opted to displace the fire in favour of displacing herself. Alas, it was to no avail. It wasn’t like the flames had refused to move when she grabbed them. She did manage to steer the pillar slightly off course, but it was only the uppermost layer that abided by her commands. The volcano’s spew consisted of too many small pieces to be moved with a single vector. And while shifting the eruption wasn’t impossible per se, a lack of understanding and preparation had led to an unintended collision.

All of the others that followed were far more purposeful. The burns didn’t hurt nearly as much as all of her usual circuit damage, and she could easily restore her health by grabbing ahold of the undead monsters that emerged from within the pillar. Though she didn’t think it too impressive, the volcano’s rage was potent enough to further bolster her elemental resistance. The racial skill, which typically gained little experience on account of its dysfunction, leveled twice from just seven of its fiery attacks.

It certainly didn’t make for the most comfortable experience, but the pain was dull enough that she didn’t mind it. She was almost starting to understand how her countrymen endured the supposed agony that came with active regeneration. Had she any space for a warrior class, she might have seriously considered picking up the ability herself. Alas, for the immediate future, it remained well beyond her grasp. Her newfound titular class had eaten her brand new slot. She would need to ascend again if she wanted to widen her skillset.

Diving straight through another fiery pillar, Claire cut down a giant angler fish and entered the underwater caldera.

It almost seemed like the fire was without a source. Nothing was glowing inside of the mountain. If anything, it looked like the darkness extended forever. Her impression remained until the next eruption. From much closer, she could see that the fire started at the bottom of the pit. It sparked to life as a single white speck within the lightless expanse—a torch that lit her way.

Dozens of identical flames sprang up all around her, coating the walls in a fresh layer of light. She braced herself, half expecting them to detonate and flood the chamber, but there was no such event.

They danced instead, slowly swirling around in the abyss as a crack appeared at the bottom of the sea. It was not in the stone floor, but rather the space itself, a tear made of vectors that connected it to a location even deeper in the depths.

Two skeletal hands poked through the opening, each as tall as her true form was long. Grabbing the portal’s edges, they wrenched it just wide enough for the rest of the skeleton's body to squeeze right through.

It was not a grug like many of the others that had preceded it, though it still did possess a distinctly anuran head. The hands and the head were the only two grug-like parts, though if one were to stretch the definition, its body could loosely be described as a ribcage, and a particularly insistent observer could claim that its countless paddles appeared as would a set of long-legged feet.

That, however, was where the similarities came to a strict end. One could describe neither its sail nor the flagpole that topped it as something belonging to a humanoid creature. Its precise shape was readily given away by its lack of a left or a right. For while it certainly had arms on both sides of its body, they were better described by the terms of port and starboard. As a ship with a core made of bone and a skin of half-rotten wood, it certainly would have taken offense to any other set of terms. 

Its appearance suggested that it ought to be adorned with a flag as black as the infinite abyss and perhaps even a froggy skull and crossbones. But while certainly a haunted ghost ship, paired alongside a full, ghastly crew, the vessel was by no means stained by a pirate’s mark. Nay, what it flew instead was a brilliant red banner, marked with the royal seal of some fallen nation or other. That much was clear, not only from the crown that adorned the standard, but also the order and pride with which the soldiers conducted themselves. 

Unlike the bare skeletons on the floors above, they were dressed in suits of armour. The full-metal protectors almost perfectly obscured their fleshless bodies. It was only the gaps meant for their eyes through which their deathless nature was seen.

One by one, they turned their eyes skyward; they locked on the caldriess in a heartbeat, despite her distance and her negligible size. She thought, perhaps, that it was simply a coincidence, a part of their routine meant to spook any skyward invaders. And yet, they followed her perfectly, no matter how quickly she moved or how far overhead she travelled.

Half the warriors raised bows, while the rest vanished beneath the deck and grabbed ahold of the cannons. Altogether, they mounted a coordinated assault. The first round of projectiles was loosed precisely as the commander—a skeleton whose armour was highlighted in red—waved his arm and clattered his jaws.

So haphazard was the barrage that it looked more like an indiscriminate assault than it did a knightly demonstration. The projectiles fired off in every which direction without the slightest regard for the target’s position.

And yet, they nearly found her. The commander changed their trajectories with a wave of the wand and redirected them all at once towards the lyrkress’ position.

Vector magic.

A parlour trick as familiar as the back of her hand.

Though she was tempted to repel the blades with a spell of her own, Claire dismissed the idea and charged straight through the wave instead. She parried with a Boris in each talon, knocking the swords and cannonballs out of her path without so much as looking their way.

She could sense them. The directional forces provided a perfect indicator of each projectile’s location and orientation, and she could even feel subtle changes in speed as the water took its toll. A second wave of attacks followed as she broke through the first, but she dodged it just as easily and quickly closed in on the ship.

It desperately paddled with its hands while the feet that protruded from its sides rattled as quickly as they could, but it gained no speed until the mage waved his wand and kicked the ship into high gear.

He moved it in a straight line, repositioning it exactly forty meters over a hundredth of a second. The force of the movement shook the volcano and practically cracked its innards wide open. Claire was hit by the same shockwave, but while it echoed through her body, she felt little more than the slightest hint of discomfort.

Because just like the vectors attempting to rip her body apart, the shockwave was another one of the mage’s spells. It was an application of vector magic she had never thought to try herself, in part due to the almost spelless variant resulting from Alfred’s guidance. Her resistance to forces was even more powerful than her resistance to fire. If not for the lack of pain that accompanied her tiny form, if not for her ability to read his spells, she would have remained oblivious to their application.

It was an outcome that came with no sense of accomplishment. She was almost annoyed at how easy it was. She had wanted an opponent that would push her limits, not one who was entirely incapable of taking her down.

She assumed her true form as her annoyance reached its max and, with Boris between her jaws, rammed the ship and tore it asunder. Time froze as soon as she landed the attack, and as expected, she found herself in a realm with almost a thousand warriors. But even with their potency in water, they could do nothing. The other Boris she had in her hands changed his shape to that of a blade. He was repositioned to the tip of her tail and holstered to the limb in much the same way as an armblade.

None of the wild strikes that followed managed to hit the skeletons whose near-deaths had initiated the time warp, but it didn’t matter. She continued to swipe whilst going in and out of the distortion zone. Even if they refused to be slain, the frogs were scattered throughout the water.

The ship reached with its massive, skeletal hands in an attempt to retrieve its crew, but she smashed its joints with her tail whilst bearing down on the commander with the dagger between her teeth.

Only after his death did she start picking the fighters off. One by one, she slew them, as well as the sentient boat that was their ride, before looking towards the bottom off the sea. Surely enough, a door appeared in the space, but traversing beyond it, she found no more floors awaiting.

The light that bore down upon her, as the teleporter completed its task, was the same light that illuminated the Kryddarian city just a few kilometers away. She was back up on the surface; the challenge was complete, even though she had yet to experience anything but endless frustration.

She was so annoyed that she almost plunged her way back into the dungeon, just so she could tear it down, but the world distorted again before she was given the opportunity. A large, flattened stone formed in the space in front of her. Its flickering, purple core aside, the monolith was without any significant decoration.

Darkness radiated from the light-thieving fire and swallowed her surroundings whole. It was like a void, a soul-sucking, empty infinity that denied the concept of light. And though he appeared before her as a cuttlefish once before, it was precisely the flame that was his true form.

Awkward as ever, the man said not a word. He remained silent, with his embers only faintly dancing along as he observed the mortal before him.

“You didn’t enjoy it.” When he finally spoke, it was in his usual, boyish voice. Though barely any louder than a whisper, it was not without its weight. His words echoed through the realm and into her mind, almost crushing it with its raw power.

“Not at all,” said Claire. “It was awful.”

“I thought as much,” he said. “The tenth floor was supposed to be a reward for those who made it, but it must have been too much of a change.”

“The tenth wasn’t the problem,” she said. “It was too annoying.”

“Which part?”

“Every part.”

“Oh.”

An awkward pause.

“The monsters were obnoxious,” said Claire. “They were a pain to fight. Killing them didn’t feel rewarding. They were too weak to be challenging, but too annoying to be worth fighting.”

“I see.”

Another awkward pause.

“The fifth floor was sadistic.”

“It was to give the mimics purpose. I wanted them to be threatening. But I didn’t want to inflate their levels or ability scores.”

“I would’ve rather that.”

“Of course.” The god heaved a sigh. “What about the other levels?”

“Too repetitive and boring,” said Claire. “Half of them were practically long corridors.”

“I was worried they might’ve seem that way,” said the god. “Oh well. Next time then.”

Log Entry 858137
You have completed the “Crimson Rock” quest.

You have received a minor blessing from the God of Darkness. All stealth-based abilities have been enhanced, and you are now immune to the death volume that exists eighty thousand kilometers beneath the sea.

“Death volume?” Claire blinked, but the god simply stood flickering where he was, dancing in the darkness that shrouded his body.

“Do you remember the other thing I asked you?”

Claire paused. “The misadventure?”

“Yes. Ignacio Alvarez.”

Claire nodded. “I’ll investigate him. If I can find him.”

“It shouldn’t be hard,” he said. “You’ll meet him. On your way to the Langgbjerns.”

“How will I know I’ve found him?”

The god shrugged. “You might not. I’ll let you know, if I’m not busy.”

“Okay.”

There was another awkward pause, followed soon after by the realm’s sudden disappearance. A blink was all it took for Claire to find herself back beneath the disembodied, subterranean sun. And there, she stayed, standing still as she looked beyond the horizon.

Unsure of what to do, she brought her tail to her chin and took a moment to consider her options. There were still a few more dungeons in the area, and she didn’t know how challenging they were exactly, but being in Kryddar, she figured that they had a fair chance of being worth her while. It was between that, catching up with Arciel, or catching up on sleep whilst completing another one of Vella’s trails.

She did still want to head into town for a quick bite as well, but though the steak was once her primary motivator, she didn’t quite feel like she was in the mood.

Vella’s call was probably the best choice. And in spite of her distaste, she reached into her chest, grabbed the key, and prepared to answer, stopping only as she felt a muddled gaze resting upon her back.

When she spun around to face it, she found a familiar fox. A forced smile on her face, Sylvia awkwardly waved her paw with none of her usual energy.