Torchbearer - Blurb + Chapter 1 (beta - early access)

A/N: You know, I probably should wait until I have a bunch more content before sharing this, but I want to know what you guys think. If you got 15 mins on hand, please read it and let me know!

This the pilot of the new story. I'll try to have chapter 2 ready by tomorrow or Tuesday so you'd get a better feel for what I'm going for. Hope you like it!

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Blurb:

Miles had spent a hundred years locked in the Dungeon. And he was tired of it.

What had begun as a simple delve had ended up with him dying and being selected as a Custodian to a Dungeon that spanned entire worlds. Now that he had finished his initiation and was allowed to leave the Dungeon without losing the amazing Skill it provided, he was going to take a long, relaxing break. And he had plans for it.

He wanted to plant some fruits, bake some pastries, and brew some tasty coffee. Maybe share it with a few visitors here and there. And when he'd get bored, he'd swing by the Dungeon. For now, he had earned himself a little break.

Hopefully, the rest of the world would let him enjoy it.

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Chapter 1:

Many delvers claim the Ashen Wanderer as one of their own. They say he walks their path, embodies their strength, validates their archetype. The mysterious figure known as the Last Light—or Torchface or Bagman, as his detractors like to refer to him—is said to be as lethal as an elite Vanguard with a spear. As resilient and proficient with a shield as a veteran Warden, as resourceful and versatile as a grand Seeker, and as stealthy and practiced with his Veil as a Shadow. But rare are those who’d claim he is a modest Torchbearer. Or at least, if they thought it, they wouldn’t speak it. Unless it was to other Torchbearers.

- Gilberath, Seeker of the Pale March

As the familiar pattern lit up across Ashirruk’s caved-in chest, and as the red-horned demon howled out his last breath, Miles landed all the way across the torch-lit challenge room, only a few steps from the exit, winding down his three body-enhancing skills. He stared, panting as the fatigue crept through his limbs while the muscle-bound, humanoid demon whirled, trying to lay eye on him, only to still when its red-glowing eyes landed on him.

The jagged, machete-like sword dropped from his hand, and while the demon’s roar didn’t cut off, Miles could swear he saw the monster’s shoulders deflate as he realized the puny human was out of his reach. But it was too late. There was no putting the genie back in the bottle, and its suicidal spell was already activating. Ashirruk might have tried to say something, if its open mouth wasn’t already shining with inner light. His core was most likely already cracked, and a moment later, the demon disappeared in an ever growing, silent orb of red and black destructive lights that swallowed the demon’s roar and would have obliterated Miles right then and there if he hadn’t been all the way at the other side of the room.

He died to that twice already. He wasn’t failing a third time.

Well, the first time I didn’t know, he thought as he let out a long breath. The second he managed to sever my leg so I wouldn’t get away. And let’s not talk about the dozen times I didn’t even notice his movement and died before I could injure it once. But this time… this time, I win.

A smile stretched across his lips. With shaking hands, Miles wiped the blood off of his face and even when he grimaced from the protesting, sore muscles of his shoulders, he didn’t dare look away. He kept waiting for the dust and wild magic to part so he could confirm the boss was dead and after a few more seconds, he finally saw the blue, foggy orb drop out of the ceiling, and he let out a slow breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

It was done. The Dungeon was bestowing its reward, and already, a gold, mist-like light was floating toward him, confirming that finally, Ashirruk, the Final Howl, was dead.

“Congratulations are in order, aye?”

Glancing to his right, Miles found the hunched form of Hazel peering at him from a few paces away. Her warform dispelled, Hazel sat cross-legged on the stone, composed despite the magic spilling from her cleaved chest and missing arm. Her jade-green eyes gleamed beneath a crown of branching, flower-decorated deer horns, their polished bone catching the Dungeon’s dying light. Even severely injured, she was equal part striking and unsettling.

Maybe that’s because I owe her copies so many of my early deaths, he thought, recalled his early years for a shuddering second. And they were not pleasant deaths.

Pushing the thoughts away, he smiled at his summoned companion. “Missing a few limbs there, Hazel. You should be resting,” he said.

A raspy chuckle escaped the witch’s throat as she looked at the approaching cloud of magic. “And miss your moment of victory? I would never. At least I’ll be able to tell George about it. And rub it in that he died first,” she added, eyes twinkling. Because of course she would.

Miles shook his head and chuckled as the golden Overflow slipped into his core, and closing his eyes, he turned his vision inward.

His core appeared in his vision, shining with light, and as the Overflow swirled around and past the orbiting Skills, Miles braced. Would be enough?

The surface of his core was shining with potential. Only a few scale-like spots were still dull, and now, the Overflow from a superior, broken core was filling in those gaps.

It felt great. Whenever a dull area was plated with the superior material, a jolt of energy would flow out of his core, refreshing his body and soul. A first spot was patched. Then three. And a handful of seconds later, Miles realized that his core was fully, perfectly clad in Overflow, and as soon as the realization hit him, the process began.

A powerful pulse blasted out of his core, instantly agitating the surrounding mana and destabilizing his Veil. He sensed the halos begin to manifest behind his back, but Miles had worked too hard on his Veil to have it fall away that easily, and as he stabilized the technique that hid his core, he watched as the coating of bright magic sunk into the walls of his core, reinforcing it and empowering it. The process was consuming a decent portion of his mana, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, and approximately five minutes later, the process cooled off, leaving him with a freshly empowered core, which officially made him into a tier-30 delver.

Tier-30 after clearing the 30th floor. Nice, he thought as he turned his attention to the two awaiting orbs floating in front of him. His brows furrowed.

Wait… two?

As if to answer him, a prompt popped in front of him.

Quest: Custodian Initiation - completed

Description: Reach floor 30 and triumph over the challenge.

Limitation: You cannot leave the Dungeon. To forfeit this quest and leave the Dungeon, you must nominate a replacement to take over your position. The Custodial Skill: [Respawn Protocol] would be severely downgraded, and all knowledge of the Custodial nomination would be censored.

Riiight… the quest.

Miles blinked. He nearly forgot about it. It felt like it had been decades since he last looked at it. In a way it had just been replace by ‘Reach floor 30, beat the boss, and you’ll get out.’ It slipped his mind that this quest was how it all had started. Then he noticed the new line that had been added.

Reward: Custodial Key

Miles stared at the line, then reaching for the orb of white light, it dispelled, and an iron-wrought key fell in his hand for a second before he sensed a question from it, and he immediately knew what it was. Accepting the key’s will, it dissolved into motes and sunk into his chest. Turning his eyes inward, he saw it floating right outside of his Skills, orbiting his core along with his other Soulbound items.

“I still think that’s some impressive work,” floated in the voice of Hazel. “For a human. Remind me, who taught you how to veil your core again?”

Miles rubbed at his face as he tried to decipher what the key did. Pausing his musing he turned toward the slowly dissolving witch and grinned. “There’s nothing to remember. I’ve never told you.”

Hazel gave him a wink as her form continued to break down. “Can’t blame an old gal’ for trying. See you soon, Miles.”

He smiled and nodded. “Catch ya later, Miss Hazel.”

The witch gave him one last annoyed click as her throat and jaw dissolved into motes of purple and green lights, and a beat later, she disappeared, returning to wherever it was her consciousness resided when she wasn’t summoned.

Returning his attention to the key, Miles mumbled. “What are you for?” he asked. Then he shrugged. He’d figure it out later. He still had plenty to do. Reaching toward the second reward, he braced.

What would this be? A skill? An item? Something else?

The magic slipped through his finger and into his chest, and following with his inner sight, he saw it float about his Skills for a few seconds before it wrapped itself tightly around three of them.

A fusion, then, he thought, and a second later, the information floated in his mind, asking for his permission to apply the change.

Titanhide (Epic) + Slipstream Step (Epic) + Giant’s Strength (Epic) → The Courier Moves. The World Makes Way (Transcendent)

Accept?

With a smile pulling on his lips, Miles accepted and stretched his hands above his hand as fireworks went off in his stomach. He’d already had his fair share of fusions, so he didn’t need to give the process too much of his attention and instead, he headed toward the fallen form of the demon.

“Lots to do,” he said to himself. His steps felt light, and as he looked around at the stone walls of the challenge room, he knew he wasn’t about to miss them. Not that the whole Dungeon was like this, thank god. Miles wasn’t sure if Dungeon was the right word when considering that the floor were literal worlds—or at least, open-sky continents—but he wasn’t about to argue with whatever intelligence was handling all of it.

“[Field Agent Requisition.]”

A magic-wrought notebook fell into his outstretched hand, and opening it, Miles flipped past Hazel’s dim page and past George’s inert one to find the new empty page he had earned a few months ago. Next, he put his palm against the gaping wound in the demon’s thigh. He hadn’t needed to lean down much, considering the size of the demon then straightening up, he put his bloody palm on the empty page, and hoped.

Come on, don’t say no, he said, eying the demon. “I won fair and square. And if you don’t join now, then I’ll keep badgering you until you do.”

The notebook pulsed, a wave of invisible magic radiating outward, and a moment later, the form of the demon lit up. The glow pulsed, like a heartbeat that matched the now glowing blood on the page, and with a final, glorious sigh, the magic left the demon and floated into the page.

“Welcome to the team,” Miles said as he smiled over the blood-red symbols over the page. Just like George’s, the page was inert, signifying Ashirruk wasn’t ready to be summoned. “I’m gonna have to think of a new name for you,” Miles mused. At least, the other two had asked for one, and Miles agreed. He wouldn’t want to refer to them one day and have someone hear him. After all, the names of his summons were pretty infamous. At least the first two.

Not that many delvers made it to this depth.

“Something that start with A. Adam? Alex? Alan?”

Miles shook his head. He’ll figure that at a later time, preferably with the demon itself. For now, he just pointed his palm at the corpse and spoke another Skill. “[Safe Extraction]”

Threads of blue magic sprang out of his hand and latched on to the demon’s ruined chest for a beat, then they began spreading out, scanning the corpse for anything valuable and magically charged. Unfortunately, for such a powerful creature, not much was left to recover, considering the suicidal attack, but the looting threads still managed to find a few bits here and there. There was still a fragment of a core a group of threads extracted from the monster’s abdomen, while a few others wrenched out a still smoldering horn. It was damaged, but it could still recover and finally, the remaining threads picked up the sword before the three items were presented to him.

Next time I’ll have to kill him before he detonates, he thought as he stored the loot in his side satchel. He didn’t really need to interact with the bag to access his vault, but it was a good habit to keep. Less of a chance of giving himself away. Looking down at the leather bag, he smiled as he tapped it. I have enough loot to last me lifetimes if I keep things modest. Enough stuff to sell and to work with. I got sugar cane seeds and cuttings, hundreds of pounds of ingredients and ores. I got most fruits and seeds that could be found in the first thirty floor. Even some roasted coffee. But I’d like to eventually grow and roast my own. I want to grow everything I’d need.

After all, as his mom had often said to him a long time ago when he’d sit and play his handheld console as she’d work on her baking business, the quality of produces were of the utmost importance to guarantee quality. And while he had enough supplies to get started, he’d need to have a good and reliable source of produce sooner or later.

Just need to hire a few folks. And find the land. And be discrete. Especially with the breadbasket guilds. They are not going to be happy. But they can get stuffed, he smiled as he pulled one of the Souldbound items orbiting his core.

Donning the mask that appeared in his hand, flames covered his feature, hiding his identity and protecting him from scrying and divination. Confirming the integrity of his Veil, Miles reached into the satchel at his side and pulled the first form out. The translucent, glowing rectangular box floated out and gently came to rest in front of him, revealing the sleeping features of Caspian. The Torchbearer was a well-built and tall man that somehow managed to look smaller thanks to the massive traveling bag he lugged around. Pots and pans hung from it on one side, and more cooking and butchering utensils on the other.

I’ll need to start with him, Miles thought, then he pulled out Ilyon next, and a groan escaped the back of his throat as the weight of the two delvers was removed from his soul. While Caspian had certainly made their trip easier with the reinvigorating meals he’d prepare, he was significantly weaker. Ilyon on the other hand was heavy on his soul. Being a Seeker with a core in the mid twenties, the healer was not easy to lug around, compared to the cook.

“That’s better,” he mumbled. Poking Caspian’s box, the stasis enchantment dissolved into motes, and the cook’s eyes fluttered open. Caspian took him in for a second, then his gaze floated past him toward the corpse of Ashirruk, then finally at the glowing stairway and teleportation circle at the end of the chamber.

“Gods below…” the man breathed out. “You… did it?”

Miles just smiled and nodded. “You’re free, Torchbearer Caspian. As promised.”

It was a little odd being formal with the man, considering they’d been friendlier in older loops, but after discussing it with the older versions of him and Ilyon, it was just safer for everyone to keep his identity hidden. After all, there was a bounty on Miles’ head, and just in case someone asked the wrong question of the two, plausible deniability was just safer.

Caspian turned toward him and bowed his head. “You did. Thank you.”

Miles just nodded back, and waited for a moment, but it seemed the man was a bit too shocked to realize he was being waited on. “Can you provide the agreed upon reward, Caspian.”

The man jumped, and a sheepish smile spread on his face as he pulled his backpack and put it down, then winced. “I wasn’t sure we’d get here, but please don’t reveal that I was the one who provided these.”

“Of course I would not,” assuaged Miles as he watched the man pull vials and wrapped bags, one after the other, until he found the ones he searched for. Putting them aside and taking the time to neatly re-arrange everything back in its rightful spot, Caspian got up and handed Miles the vials, and the seeds jiggled against the enchanted glass.

“I have Arcanth and Myrrshade varieties. I’m sure you’ll eventually manage to get your hands on the other. They likes warm and humid climates. But if there’s enough mana around, they won’t care so much. Anything decent below the tenth floor would see it grow and fruit,” the cook explained, and while Miles had already known this, he just nodded along as he smiled under his mask at the pale coffee grains.

Arcanth was the preferred variety of mages, as the coffee had mana-regenerating properties. Myrrshade was sought after as well, as it also was a favorite of mages and artists, thanks to its heady and mind-stimulating properties.

Too bad there’s no Scentlief and Ironroot, Miles thought as he eyed the fresh grains. But he was sure he’d get his hands on some, sooner or later.

“I know their sale and exchange are… forbidden. But while they’re rare and treasures in and of themselves, I still feel like I’m underpaying you,” said Caspian after a second. “You saved my life, sir Wanderer.”

Miles looked up and refrained from tapping the man on the shoulder. There wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t reveal the loop or at least hint at it, but he liked Caspian. He was a hardworking and decent man who’d had the misfortune of joining a party that didn’t care much for Torchbearers, especially in the dangerous territories that could be found below the 20th. Something Miles had personally experienced himself, a long time ago.

“Don’t worry about it, Caspian. This is plenty. Just… keep my secret, if you can. And maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

Miles would love to get the man for his projects, but doing so would tip off his identity. Over the few loops, he’d been extremely careful and while he knew that sooner or later he’d be made, it wasn’t worth being sloppy just yet.

“Well, if you ever find yourself near the Skygate, ask around for me,” the man smiled. “And for a fee, I might get you a lead or two on the others varieties.”

Miles smiled as he approached the still frozen form of the Seeker. “I will keep it in mind,” he simply said, then poked the enchantment, and the Seeker’s eyes snapped open. Unlike Caspian, Ilyon was much faster on the intake, and while he already noted the exit and his unfrozen companion, his eyes couldn’t help but linger on the fallen demon.

“Ashirruk… it’s….”

The Mender was frozen for a second, then he blinked away from the corpse. “Do you require any healing, Ashen Wanderer?”

Miles shook his head. He’d been familiar enough with the demon’s moves by now that he escaped all but a couple of kicks and elbows, but those were not enough to injure him too badly. “I’ve drank a couple of potions already. I’m alright.”

Ilyon straightened up and bowed. “In that case, I’m deeply grateful. Thank you for saving my life. And while I know you refused payment, please accept this,” the man said, reaching into a hidden pocket in his satchel before presenting a gold coin with a green-encrusted gem in its center. “Here. This is a Wishmark from the great guild I represent, Hollow’s Wind. They are untraceable, and no one can ask where it came from and how it came to you. A token of thanks, for saving my life. And if you’re ever near the Sandgate or in the territory of the guild, you will be greeted as honored guest.”

Miles greedily eyed the token, and Caspian, now having gone pale, was frozen still, eyes wide as he stared at the object.

I knew Ilyon must have been a big deal, considering his uppity behavior in the previous loops, Miles thought. But I didn’t know it was to this level.

Miles hadn’t known a Wishmark had been on the table. And he could use it. Especially once his hidden identity began to crack. The favor of a Great Guild was nothing to scoff at. So he accepted it. Maybe he’d never need it. But better to have it on hand than not.

“Thank you,” he said, voice warbling as the modulating enchantment twisted his voice.

“Now I feel like I ripped you off,” mumbled Caspian, and Miles couldn’t help but chuckle, which took the two by surprise and somewhere in his chest, his chest twinged a little. “Don’t worry about it, either of you. But I believe our business is done here. Would any of you need help getting past the Surveyors? Think they’d give you trouble?”

Caspian shrugged, while Ilyon stilled for a fraction of a second before shaking his head. “I’m a Mender. They wouldn’t dare.”

“And I’m Torchbearer. They wouldn’t care,” Caspian grinned, eyes shining at the circle that would teleport them back to where they entered the Dungeon from. “So it’s time, eh?”

“Go with peace,” Miles said to the two. They gave him a half a bow, then both gingerly walked toward the lit up circle, completely ignoring the set of glowing stairs past it that would have taken them down to the next floor.

Ilyon stepped into the circle first, then it was Caspian’s turn who gave Miles one last wave and then they were gone.

“And that’s done with,” he said with sigh as he removed the mask and put on a nondescript hooded cloak as he walked toward the exit himself. He knew they weren’t leaving at the same gates, and he knew it’d be unlikely that the two would turn on him, but better to get a move on, just in case.

With the cape hiding his features and clothing, Miles stepped into the glowing circle and closed his eyes.

“Outside world, here I come,” Miles whispered as the final report floated in front of his eyes, officially marking that his delve was over.

It was time for a well deserved break.

Name: Miles Callahan

Archetype: Torchbearer

Dungeon Rank: Initiate → Master

Core tier: 2 → 30

Time spent: 35,569 days

Skills:

Enhanced Strength (Rare) → The Courier Moves. The World Makes Way (Transcendent)

Enlarged Storage (Rare) → My Vault, Wherever and Whenever I Roam (Transcendent)

(New) The Courier Accepts All (Transcendent)

(New) Return to Sender (Legendary)

(New) Safe Extraction (Epic)

(New) Field Agent Requisition [3 Agents] (Custodial)

(New) Respawn Protocol [44 Days] (Custodial)

Soulbound Items:

Mask of Embers

Starseeker, the Solar Spear

Warden's Promise

The Blooming Cauldron

Custodial Key