B5 C53: A Portal Out

Two weeks later, I carefully traced my stylus across a massive slab of stone, letting it carve out an intricate pattern that would soon serve as a spatial ritual.

When I’d initially informed the others of my plan, we’d eventually agreed to go through with it. After all, when faced with an opportunity to leave the dungeon behind, what was there to possibly say?

As it turned out: a lot. Case in point, even as I worked, Cal swooped in from behind, peering over my shoulder.

“Tess, are you suuuuure we want to do this? We only have two more crystals to bust! And hells, with the regions I cleared from my expedition, we’re already ready to go directly to the third. If we get lucky, we could free Sett in, like, a month or two!” It was a common refrain by now, even if Cal found new ways to express the same arguments each time.

In a way, this was my fault. By failure of imagination, I hadn’t envisioned a scenario in which the others genuinely fought back against my suggestion. Yes, there was the expected relief and joy, but folded into those more basic emotions was a sort of simmering indignation. Two and a half years, and this is how things ended? Running with our tails tucked between our legs?

Plus, while we kept getting stronger, the dungeon only stayed the same. If we’d cleared two collection sites already, certainly the remaining two wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

But, unbeknownst to her, Cal had set it best herself.

“Right. Like you said: ‘If we get lucky.’” Thinking back to our entire dungeon run, I couldn’t say that we were always blessed by the gods of luck. 

Well, technically I always am. Hence the mark, and all that. Not the point I’m trying to make. 

“What happens if we get unlucky though?” Thinking back to all our near-death experiences, I couldn’t in good conscience let the others keep delving this dungeon when there was a way out. “Think about the mental region. You two were knocked out before you even noticed there was an enemy. What happens if we run into something like that again, but none of us have a special resistance? It’d be dumb if we all died just because we were too stubborn to call it quits.”

The dungeon had rewarded us well, but that was because reward came with risk. As we got stronger, the risk went down, but roll the dice enough times, and eventually you’ll get some snake eyes.

“Bah, you worry too much. There’s still time to scrap this ritual and stick to the original plan.” Cal bent down, examining the spell diagrams in closer detail. The mischievous glint in her eyes made me wonder if she was about to start cutting up my work with her sword. Thankfully, she resisted the urge.

Seeing as she wasn’t listening to reason, I appealed to her emotions instead.

“Anyway, it’s almost Verin’s birthday again. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could get home before she has to spend three entire birthdays here?”

With a noncommittal grumble, Cal conceded the point before wandering off. By now, I was pretty sure she was arguing more out of habit than anything else. I knew she was looking forward to going home, too.

Once again left to my own devices, I returned to my ritualist duties, thinking back to how we’d ended up here in the first place. Much as hoped, Sett had a good idea of what sort of ritual I’d need to cast to escape, and he’d provided me with all sorts of drawings, miniature recreations, and reference materials to study in order to recreate them. While his help hadn’t been free, he was actually much easier to convince than expected, his price nothing I wasn’t willing to pay.

For one, he wanted another one of his locator tokens sent back home, which Verin was holding onto right now, much like she had the original. The odds were pretty high that we might die before we cleared the remaining crystals, which would mean Sett was stuck here. On the flip side, if we handed Archmage Xander’Callis a locator token and let him know about this dungeon, he could theoretically send as many rescue parties as he wanted to. Helping us leave was thus in Sett’s best interest, in a way. 

Not that that had been his only price, but once again, he hadn’t asked for anything too onerous.

My first day of work had been devoted entirely to setting up a work space. While I’d initially hoped to carve the ritual in an unused corner of Sett’s prison chamber, he’d put a wrench in that plan immediately. Seeing as it was a jail of sorts, the ritual he was trapped in empowered the dungeon’s spatial locks to ensure he couldn’t attempt any teleportation shenanigans. Thus, I was working in the prairie instead.

Plain earth wasn’t solid enough to properly carve a ritual into, so I’d first cast Move Earth over and over to perfectly flatten out a wide square depression. A smooth slab of quarried stone filled the ditch, serving as the medium for my ritual.

I’d originally wondered if the spell would resemble the drudge summoning ritual I was familiar with, but any similarities were superficial at best. As a demon himself, the grand magus was well-accustomed to summoning rituals, and he assured me the drudge ritual basically counted as a true summoning spell, all of it heavily leaning on the system to work at all. My Demonic Summoning skill had apparently also picked up some of the slack.

This ritual, however, wasn’t sending us to hell, and indeed, there was even a slot in the diagram for us to place one of Verin’s recall gems. The complicated spell circles around it would snag the location from the gem. After that, I’d break through the dungeon’s barrier, and the ritual would latch onto the break, opening up a temporary one-way portal.

After preparing the ritual space, the first week had been devoted entirely to memorization and practice. With God’s Mind, a single glance at Sett’s references should have been enough, but I was leaving no room for chance. At night, I dreamed about every curve of the diagram, and in the morning, when I closed my eyes, it was waiting for me, seared into my corneas. With Sett’s assistance, I power-leveled my Ritual Magic until I hit the Initiate rank, gaining an augment specifically for spatial rituals.

Only then did I get started on the actual ritual we’d be using. Day by day, hour by hour, the pattern revealed itself upon the stone slab, every inch triple and quadruple checked to the point of near-obsession.

And then, one day, there was no more left to carve. There, in all of its arcane beauty, was the key to escaping the dungeon. Our ticket home.

One not-so-quick check later, and I was satisfied. Heart hammering with anticipation, I summoned the others over.

If all went well, our time together in the dungeon would be over in a matter of minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

“You seem nervous. Gotta say, if I’m about to hop in a portal, I don’t want the person casting it to look nervous.” Not doing anything to settle my anxiety, Cal needled me as I prepared the final steps of the ritual. Thankfully, one of the two was on my side, and Verin quickly poked the warrior with a tiny icicle, eliciting a yelp.

“Do not distract her. If this fails because of your foolishness, I’ll be freezing your lips shut.”

As amusing as that might be to see, I was sincerely hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

There was a reason my nerves were flaring up, after all. As a very itty bitty minor tidbit that I’d been trying not to think about, there was one other tiny way this ritual differed from the drudge summoning.

Namely, I could only cast it once.

As far as Sett could tell, even with my Adept Spatial Magic, I shouldn’t have been able to breach the dungeon’s protections. The reasons I’d succeeded with the drudges were apparently threefold: The dungeon’s summoning room had likely been boosting my efforts; I’d had a boost from my Demonic Summoning skill; and, most importantly, the drudges didn’t have complete souls. That let them squeeze through holes in the barrier that we couldn’t possibly travel through.

With one more rank in Spatial Magic? I’d be golden. With the skill no longer being class-aligned, however, that categorically was not happening. Forget one year -- we were possibly talking decades, especially without the spatial tonic I’d drunk last time.

As a singular saving grace, however, there was one way to give me a bit of a leg up. While the spatial tonic was gone, there was one other reward from completing the spatial region that I still had tucked away in storage. Taking it out now, I reexamined the small black stone.

Orb of Isolation

A potent source of spatial energy, ideal as a reagent in spatial rituals and empowering spatial spells. Alternatively, when charged with mana and activated, the orb creates an isolated area around itself with severely mangled space. Sufficient internal or external damage may cancel the effect or increase the rate of drain.

I’d hoped to get away with just shaving off a small piece and chucking it in the center of the diagram, but a quick examination from Sett dashed that hope. Much like the mana crystals Cezerra had used, I would need to crush and sprinkle the gem over the entirety of the ritual, and he was confident I’d need the entire thing to have a shot of this actually working.

Ultimately, there was nothing for it. Removing my mortar and pestle from storage, I made fast work of the gem, grinding it down into a fine black dust. Holding my breath, I applied it evenly across the carved stone, not letting even a single mote escape.

With a final glance at the others, I crouched down and activated the ritual.

Out my mana poured, half as neutral mana, the other half as spatial. Both types flowed through the carved curves, steadily filling up the entirety of the diagram, and the moment they did, I was hit with that familiar out-of-body sensation. Up I flew, smashing against the dungeon’s protections, throwing my entire metaphysical weight against them. Using my very being as a battering ram, I knocked against the single obstacle between us and freedom.

And to my horror, I could feel my will start to give even as my mana nearly bottomed out. Sett was right. I wasn’t strong enough.

But I’d already known that.

Right as the spell was about to fail, subjecting me to a brutal bout of backlash, the crushed Orb of Isolation kicked in, dissolving into my mana. Like a dose of steroids mixed with a fatal amount of caffeine, the powder hit me like a truck. More importantly, it hit the barrier like a truck too.

Once, twice, thrice, I smashed against the protection only to be rebuffed.

Dredging up every ounce of energy I had, I threw myself into the fourth and final strike, and something gave way. With a deafening crack that only I could hear, the bars of our cage shattered into pieces.

When I snapped back into my body, it was already over. There, hanging before us, was an inky void, a tunnel across dimensions. The portal, twice my height and half that across, hovered off the ground, promising us a path home after over two long years.

“Woah,” came the appropriate response from behind me.

Woah indeed.

“Tess. You mentioned that the portal should hold stably for some time after the ritual concludes, yes?” Not showing any signs of moving towards her salvation, Verin studied the portal from afar.

“Probably?” I waffled. “It should theoretically stay open for at least ten minutes. Maybe more. No reason to test that, though. You two through first. I’ll follow behind.”

For some unfathomable reason, neither of the two moved. Still examining the portal, Verin quirked her lips into an almost imperceptible frown.

“A truly remarkable spell, cast all your own. I couldn’t possibly be the first one through. You’ve more than earned that distinction. I insist.” Taking a step back, she gestured towards the portal.

I looked to Cal for support, but she didn’t meet my gaze. For whatever reason, it seemed that both of them wanted me to go first.

“I shouldn’t,” I doubled down. “I cast it, right? I’m worried it’ll close after I go through. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right behind you.”

Evidently, I’d said something wrong, as Verin tensed up. As she opened her mouth to reply, Cal cut her off.

“Pretty sure rituals don’t work that way, but we’re wasting time. Listen. No matter what you say, we’re not going first. There’s no chance. Not happening. Is there anything we can say to get you into that portal right now?” This time, she had no difficulty making eye contact, locking me with her gaze, daring me to look away.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Why? And how?

In the end, it didn’t matter. Cal was right. We were wasting time.

Sadly, there was only one answer I could give.

“No. Sorry. There’s literally nothing you can say to make me go first. Please just get in. Please.” If we wasted this single chance because of this pointless argument, I was going to strangle the two of them.

In response, the two of them let out synchronized sighs, both seeming to age before my very eyes. A quick glance between them communicated some message I couldn’t discern, and then, all at once, the two of them straightened up. They’d clearly mustered up some sort of resolve, but for what, I couldn’t say.

In as weary a tone I’d ever heard from her, Cal replied. “Yeah. I’m sorry, too, Tess. I’m sorry, too.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, she vanished. As for why she would possibly need to use Apex Shroud right now, I had no clue.

Only a second later, I got my answer.

It just wasn’t one I particularly liked.

Aimed directly at my thighs, a feathery blade suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The single instant of Danger Sense I got was enough for me to try jerking my legs out of the way, but to my horror, they refused to move. 

At my feet, a thin layer of frost connected me to the earth, locking me in place. A steely-eyed Verin still stood before me, her face stuck in a grimace.

It was only as the blade connected that it dawned on me what was happening.

I’m under attack.