Torchbearer - Chapter 2 (beta - early access)

A/N: I wanted to do chapter 3 as well today, but it won't be ready. It'll be out tomorrow, and then the intro would be done.

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The circle activated, and Miles felt the spell wrap itself around him before he was funneled through a blindingly black and purple tunnel.

He was a bit on edge, and any second now, he was going to face the Surveyors. Which he planned on completely bypassing. With how long he’d spent in the Dungeon, there was likely going to be an inspection and interrogation with a truth-telling enchantment or a specialized Seeker around. Not to mention, the last assignment Miles had taken would still be in effect, and so whomever had organized and ordered the delve would then lay a claim to most of Miles’s loot.

I’d be lucky if I keep 10%, considering how much Torchbearers are appreciated, he chuckled darkly to himself, then shook his head. No, he was bypassing the whole thing and he’d deal with the fallout one way or another. He wasn’t giving away anything, not after he was left to die in the dungeon.

Miles let out a sigh, pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts and turned his attention back to something more productive.

Once I’m past them, I could wait out the ruckus for a couple of days then I could run with the new identity plan Quinn had recommended.

Which reminded him, he could check on her, now that he was out.

Miles hummed. That was a whole other can of worms, and he’d deal with it when he exited safely.

Holy crap. This is taking it’s sweet time, he thought. The moments stretched into seconds, then into minutes. How long was the teleport to the surface? Slowly, Miles’s thought drifted. How long has it been in the outside world? Last time he’d checked, around 5 years had gone by, but that was many loops ago. Five more years could have passed outside. Maybe even ten, or maybe just one.

I wonder how the Gryffs are doing, he mused. He hadn’t spent that much time with them, but they’d been good to him. Maybe even more than he’d deserved back then, with how much of a little shit he’d been. Miles was recalling the first time he’d met them when he’d been still struggling to find a place to live when he sensed something shift around him and he immediately banished all thoughts and concerns away.

He had work to do. And most importantly, he had to make sure he didn’t give himself away.

Taking a deep breath, Miles exhaled slowly.

It’s showtime.

***

Vern’s POV

Straightening up as he noticed the exit circle light up, Vern swallowed nervously and let out a slow breath as he watched form his position on top of the battlement. He’d been through this dozens of times already over the last week, and this would be no different.

It’s gonna be fine, he told himself as the second circle lit up with arcane blue lights. It’s the same as a regular routine patrol in the city. Hells, this is safer. There’s no enchanted walls to stop assassins and rogues in the streets of Rivergate, he thought as the third circle lit up next

The Dungeon’s exit was only a few paces away from the stairs leading down, and both entrance and exit were surrounded by 30 feet high enchanted walls that had four senior guardsmen watching the exit at all time. Well, three seniors and a junior today, and in case of an alarm, any of them would hit the bell, and the protective barriers would spring up and buy enough time for reinforcement to arrive.

Already, he could see two guardsmen stepping in the court to escort the delvers to the Surveyors.

Routine stuff, he thought. And then the fifth circle lit up, and Vern’s brows lifted as his throat grew drier.

“Someone returning from the fifth floor? That’s a risky delve,” he mumbled, trying to force himself not to think of the disaster from three years ago, when a party managed to teleport back with a tier-9 monster in tow.

That’s not gonna happen. All of this got built so that disaster wouldn’t happen again.

Then more outward circles lit up, and faces began peeking out of the battlement’s rampart and gateways. By the tenth, the post was dead quiet. By the fifteenth, the guardsmen and Surveyors were sharing looks, and by the twentieth, everyone was back at their post, faces pale and eyes peeled. Whomever it was that were coming out, they were going to be important, and everyone had to be on their best behavior.

Then the twenty-fifth circle lit up, and somehow, Vern felt himself relax. If a monster came out now, there was absolutely nothing him or anyone around could do, and by now, one of the alarm was ringing, announcing to the walled city in the distance that whomever came out, their best defender was already outclassed.

Seeker Zerith is tier-20, last I’ve heard. He can’t do anything here, Vern realized. None of them could do anything, here. It was like they were all children and the first adult they’ve ever met was about to step in their midst.

Vern’s mouth was dry, and the circles were still lighting up.

26… 27… 28… 29… 30.

Vern’s mind-numbing terror was actually turning to flat astonishment. Then the lights of the circle shone with a painful purple, and a cloaked silhouette appeared out of the light.

If someone told Vern’s heart had stopped beating, he would have believed them. Just the residue of tier-30 mana wafting in the circle was enough to significantly raise the grade of the ambient energies. It was like they’d all just stepped in second or third floor.

The court was completely silent as the hooded head peered about, then, nearly a full ten second later, someone remember they all had a job to do, and one of the guardsmen called out.

“Welcome, delver. Please present any identification, and we’d be happy to have you be on your way.”

The surreal wording shook Vern out of his shock. That was the most polite request for identification he had heard in his entire life.

In response… the stranger said nothing. They were still peering around, as if studying the walls, and that made Vern’s stomach twinge.

Something isn’t right…

Vern took a step toward the bell, and immediately sensed the stranger’s gaze on his back.

“Delver. I apologize for insisting,” called out the guardsmen once more, and Vern noted Seeker Zerith up on the battlement, eyes already shining. Behind his back, two clear, frosty blue circles had appeared like after-images as the caster unveiled and flared his core.

“Please identify yourself immediately, or we’ll be forced to consider you hostile.”

At that word, the air shimmered as the defensive barriers went up, and Vern’s fearfully looked about, heart hammering in his ears.

Why are they escalating this?

Vern’s mind felt blank. What do they do in this sort of scenario? This hadn’t even been covered as a possibility. High-tiers like Seeker Zerith were supposed to be the last and most powerful defense at their disposal, but someone who just came out of floor 30 could most likely manage a tier-20 just fine.

The stranger finally moved, and Vern throat closed up, but they’d just turned around. And then they disappeared.

Wha—

The sky cracked as the form of the stranger blurred through barrier, obliterating the first layer with their momentum alone, and when the second didn’t immediately crack, the stranger wound back and punched, obliterating the second. But that was enough for the mage to make his move.

Vern barely noticed the zipping icy spell that nearly got the stranger in their back, only for the ice lance to completely disappear a moment later, and then the form was gone, sprinting toward the woods to the east while screeching alarms filled the sky.

What the hell just happened?

***

Miles cursed at himself as he sprinted toward the woods.

Damn it. Damn damn damn.

He’d captured the spell by reflex when he should have just let it hit him. It would drawn a little blood at most, but with it heading toward his back and having spent the last few loop-years above the 25th floor, he’d unconsciously protected himself by capturing it through [The Courier Accepts All], which could potentially give him away.

It was just that between him being too tense and having been a little distracted by the near complete absence of mana had a destabilized him a tiny bit.

He let out a sigh as he zipped through the trees, the sound of alarms growing weaker in his ears.

No it’s fine. They won’t immediately link it to me. There’s enough dispelling magics out there. Both in Skills and in enchanted and protective items. It’s fine, he told himself as he broke out of the woods, and seeing a hill in the distance, he headed toward it, taking off his cloak as he pulled a regular, traveling one. Even if someone noticed the tenth of a second in which the stasis magic activated, and even if they connected the dots of who he might be, at worst it’d confirm that his secret identity had passed through here. They shouldn’t be able to connect that to him as long as he kept a low profile.

I survived in the dungeon. I’ll be fine up here, he thought as he eyed the distinctly larger city of Rivergate in the distance. Or, if not large, then its walls were higher.

Miles frowned.

The walls. The dramatically increased security at the gate…

He grimaced, suspecting what had happened. A bad dungeon spill or someone dragged something out, he’d bet.

“Bad business,” he mumbled, looking away from the city and trying to orient himself. “If the gate is there, and Rivertown is there,” he said, head turning until his eyes found the spot he was looking for, and his brows knitted. “Then a hill should be there, and beyond it, the village.”

Miles had a bad feeling as he started jogging toward the little farming village in which he’d lived. He had hoped he could maybe find his old chamber in the Gryffs’ home and lay low until things cooled off, but he suspected that things had changed over there as well.

A moment later, as he crested what remained of the hill, his suspicions were confirmed.

Torn walls and caved in roofs was all that he could see. Upturned and forgotten carts on an overgrown road stretched ahead, and as he approached, a rabbit twitched its ears and hopped away as Miles took in what remained of the village.

I hope they made it out in time, he thought, saddened, and less than a minute later, he found himself in front of a still open, familiar door.

“I’m home, I guess,” he muttered. Then pushing the door open, he stepped in and over the next few minutes, as he took in the state of the keeping room, his shoulders relaxed.

“Everything’s clean, and aside from some opportunistic rodents, nothing had come in here. They managed to take everything they could carry before they left. At least, I hope,” he thought looking around with a half smile on his face. A few blades of grass managed to break through the stone-paved floor under his boots, and as he walked around, Miles came upon his own closed room.

Which gave him an idea.

“In a minute,” he mumbled, pushing the thin wooden door open, and his eyes went wide.

They kept my stuff, he smiled, heart twinging. He’d assumed they’d think he was dead and would have rented out the room or used it for something else, but he could see clear signs of care. The bed was made, the windows closed. A few small boxes had been piled up at the foot of his bed, and he could even see his spare backpack hung near the window.

Miss Seren must have had it fixed, he thought, fingers brushing against the sewn in leather patches. Miles looked around and smiled. There were still hints of the familiar earthy-smell around. Taking a deep breath, he held it in his chest for a second, eyes closed, then opened his eyes and got back to work.

“Alright. Let’s test a few things.”

First of all, Miles called for [Respawn Protocol], but like he suspected, the Skill pulsed, trying to activate, but he didn’t sense the magic latch onto the world around him like it had so many times back in the dungeon.

Not unexpected, he thought as he tried to cast it again. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of mana around or if it was because he wasn’t in the Dungeon. Because even early on, Miles had realized that it wasn’t him who was paying for the cost of the Skill, but it was the Dungeon itself. It was the Dungeon that was sending him back in time and remaking his body. So it made a little sense that the respawn function wouldn’t work out here. Especially considering how costly and broken it must be.

“That’s out for now, then. Next, [Field Agent Requisition].”

The glowing book fell into his open palm out of the ether, but none of the agents were in a good shape to be summoned. “I’ll test that later, but at least the book shows up.”

With another flex of his will, Miles extended his hand forward, and his fingers broke through the veil of space reached into his private storage. “The Vault works just fine,” he noted to himself, and over the next couple of minutes, he activated a few more Skills and summoned his Soulbound items before sending them back one by one in his soul, only stopping when the iron key was the only item left.

So everything aside from the loop works out here. Ish. I’d need to confirm the book works as well when any of them recovers, he summarized, twisting the key around in his finger. “But mana’s going to be an issue. I don’t think I’ve regenerated a drop ever since I came out of the gate,” he muttered. He had plenty of elixirs and potions to remedy the issue, but considering quite a few of the crops required a heightened level of ambient mana, this could hamper his farming project. Then, he looked up at the door in his chamber and his steps echoed as he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

Looking one more time at the key in hand, he reached toward the door itself, wondering if he should have tried this first with a door that had a lock, only to see the key melt into the simple wood.

A grin stretched across his lips as he took a step back, while the door pulsed with magic as the simple planks grew thicker and as the iron binds widened and stretched, until a few seconds later, the once flimsy door looked like one that wouldn’t be out of place in a fortress. Especially considering how tough and polished it looked.

Reaching for the handle, Miles swung the door open, and his smile froze on his lips.

***

Thalia’s POV

“Rookies! Here are the routes,” the man called as he slapped the blackboard behind him. “Find a partner, pick a route, and take whistle. If you see anything off, if you find the runner, do not engage! Whistle and call for help. The big ones are watching, understood? Get going!” barked out the Watch commander before he stormed out of the briefing room.

Thalia eyed the routes drawn intently, trying—and failing—to ignore the annoyed thoughts at the back of her mind.

Did this have to happen now? I’m gonna miss my damn interview.

She was frustrated, but… this is also why she’d joined the Watch and was now applying to join a guild. To get stronger so what had happened in Plow’s Rest wouldn’t happen again. Then again, this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t a savage and Dungeon-enraged monster that was going to tear into everything in sight. It was just someone powerful who didn’t want to deal with the bureaucracy and the bullshit of those in power.

And there’s a patrol heading there, she thought. She didn’t really know if she wanted to visit her old village, so she looked away from that route, scanning for something that might let her finish fast.

“Hey! I got us a route. Did you hear? Some are saying it’s him,” whispered Brie in her ears.

“Who’s him?” Thalia asked, brows furrowed as she reluctantly put down the chalk, eyes still scanning the board.

“The Bagman,” her usual partner whispered.

Thalia stopped and slowly turned toward her red-haired, stupidly-smiling friend. She wanted to glare and tell her to get serious, but one of the cogs of her head got stuck. Thalia blinked, then her frown deepened. “What makes you think that?”

Brie shrugged, and Thalia nearly throttled her then and there. “I don’t know. I heard someone swearing they saw Seeker Zerith’s spell get caught. Then the runner just broke through the double barriers like they weren’t even there.”

Thalia’s stomach churned. Through the years, whenever she’d heard of the exploits of the Ashen Wanderer, she couldn’t help but think of her lost adopted sibling. Especially the Bagman name.

Miles is a courier. A Torchbearer. Torchface?

Then Thalia caught herself, and reality came crashing back down around her. Miles had been a courier, she reminded herself, and sighing, she shook her head. Still, she couldn’t help but look at the patrol route that'd lead her to her old home. What if he survived? Even if he had, there was no way he’d become such an infamous figure in just six years.

Thalia knew that idea made no sense. It really didn’t. “But what if…” she muttered.

“You okay, Thals?”

Thalia’s brow twitched, and she looked around. “Sorry Brie. I think I need to go on another route. I want to check something,” she told her friend, feeling slightly bad. Then standing up on her tippy-toes, she shouted. “Hey! Who’s going on the Plow’s Rest route? ”

The other juniors looked about, many shrugging, while Brie kept poking her in the shoulder. Thalia swiped at her hand as she waited for someone to speak, only for Brie to poke her more forcefully, forcing Thalia to turn to her. “What is… it” Thalia asked, her words trailing off as she saw her friend’s face.

Brie seemed both smug and embarrassed. It was an awkward mix. “I… uh. It was me. I got it for us. Because it’s short and close?”

Thalia stared at her friend, then sighed as she headed toward the exit.

“Thalia wait up!” she heard behind her as she picked up her cloak and made to the exit. It wasn’t even lunch time, and Thalia needed a drink.