Throne Hunters Book 3, Chapter 31

Harald walked carefully over the corpses. The ground was muddy with blood, and his boots squelched each time he placed his next step carefully around an outflung limb, neck, or severed body part. The smell was rising, thick and cloying, and combined with his strange, lightheaded feeling, made him feel nauseated.

But the black crystal drew him on as if in a dream. It hung in the air, perhaps a couple of feet off the ground, perfect in its faceted ebon symmetry.

Harald didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, upon reaching where it hovered, he turned to survey the battlefield. How many had they killed to achieve this prize?

It was impossible to tell. The nature of the damage they’d done had reduced much of the dead to fragments or mist. But the terror birds lay piled up like crimson snow drifts, some areas several bodies deep.

How had they come so far, so quickly?

Only a month ago they’d nearly been overwhelmed by the Shuddering.

And while they were nowhere close to matching Lady Hammerfell’s level of punitive justice, here, now, they’d more than held their own.

They’d massacred their enemies without taking a single loss.

Harald gazed back at where Kársek yet lay, where Sam sat, hollow-eyed, took note of the many tears and gashes in Nessa’s and Vic’s armor. It hadn’t been an elegant victory. They’d taken enormous amounts of damage. Only Sam’s powers and copious usage of scales for healing had allowed them to survive.

That and Kársek’s incredible Runes of Destruction.

For a second the memory of the melee filled Harald’s mind: the flashes of violence, the shrieks, the splashes of hot blood, the dust - and then he banished the thought.

He was here, on the 21st.

And they’d won through.

Harald crouched and took the crystal gingerly from the air. He immediately intuited how easy it would be to absorb it into his Cosmos, to replace Wirmas with this new servant.

But the Servitor belonged to Thracos.

Harald hung his head. How he’d love to swap the snide and caustic hobgoblin for a terror bird.

But no. He closed his fist about the crystal and with great reluctance placed it in his pouch.

The others were clearly taking their time, adjusting to the victory, so he remained where he was, downslope aways, and summoned his stat bonuses back.

The Demon Seed Has Stirred

Your Strength has risen from 12 to 13

Your Dexterity has risen from 12 to 13

Your Constitution has risen from 13 to 14

A triple stat bump, yet somehow he felt… disappointed. Sam and Vic had both leveled up; had he secretly harbored the hope that he’d done the same? After hitting 4th Level only two weeks ago?

He snorted wryly and shook his head.

He truly was growing spoiled.

Still, he now stood at the near peak of natural human potential. Without a Class, without levels, no man nor woman, no matter their talents and natural gifts, could go much farther than where he was now.

Harald considered himself, truly checked in with his body. Gone was the lard that had once sheathed his frame. His torso was lean and defined, and reaching under his torn leather armor he straightened and felt actual definition to his abdominal wall.

Huh.

That was a first.

For how many of his teenage years had he longed for just this physique? The kind where you could nonchalantly pull off your tunic and draw the eye of every pretty girl? He’d always had broad shoulders, but they’d been of the sloping, shapeless kind. Now his armor was tight, and were it not lacerated anew, it’d be constricting across the chest as well.

But it was more than his enhanced musculature; he felt lithe and flexible, mobile and sharp. Unlike some of the mountains of muscle he’d seen making their way toward the Dungeon Portal, he felt as fast if not faster than he’d ever been. His ability to dodge and whirl, to duck and fling himself away from harm was a testament to that.

And his reserves. Gone were the days when he’d labor to run laps around Season’s Park. Even now he felt himself recovering from the battle, his natural stamina an incredible source of ever-renewing energy. And come dark, Shadow Fortitude would only allow him to harness ever greater stores of resilience.

Harald shook his head in mute amazement.

Two months.

It had only been two months since Yeoric had battered him down in the Plaza of Dials and robbed him blind. Left him puking and mewling in the dirt.

Now?

He doubted a blow from Yeoric would do more than knock him back a step or two.

“You all right there, Harry?” Nessa picked her way over, longsword in one fist, her gaze still roving around the circumference of the crater.

“Just appreciating being alive, I guess.” He closed one eye as he looked up at her. “And how much we’ve been through in so little time.”

Nessa dropped into an easy crouch by his side, blade propped over one shoulder. “Pretty incredible. I’ve gained a level and accomplished a triple stat threat just now. I’d never dreamed I’d advance so quickly after being stalled out for so long.”

Harald read her expression. “But?”

She smirked. “I don’t need to say it. What matters is that you got your crystal, which means we can get out of here. Kársek’s body may be healed, but his spiritual reserves are utterly depleted. I want to avoid another fight.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Harald eyed her. “That was a good plan you implemented. Kársek front and center, Sam covering him from behind with the Eclipse Edge. Good work.”

“Hmm.” She stared moodily at the huge mound in the crater’s center. “Only because you stayed my panic. Having an Ego of 23 must be nice.”

“What’s yours?”

She flicked a glance at him, then looked away. Considered, frowned, then shrugged one shoulder. “Much what you’d expect from a glory addict.”

“Oh. But I mean… right. High Presence?”

“Presence is no problem.” Her smile was mocking. “A noble 14. My Ego?” He thought she wasn’t going to continue, but then she did, her voice a hoarse whisper, as if she were forcing herself to continue. “8.”

Harald nodded slowly, absorbing the dichotomy. Enough Presence to have wrapped him around her finger all these years. And a weak enough Ego to make it so she could barely resist temptation at the best of times.

“You know.” He hesitated. “I’m not going to moralize. But something tells me you’re on track to start improving that stat.”

Nessa sighed and stood. “Maybe. Eadwolf - well. He gave me some advice. I rejected it out of hand at first, but now?”

“Now?” prompted Harald.

“Now I think he was on to something.” She considered him, eyes shining. “Know what he said?”

“What?”

“Pretend the Fallen Angel loves you, and act accordingly. Even if it’s just mummery. Do that long enough, and one day you’ll realize you’ve come to believe it.”

“And that rings true now?”

Nessa turned slowly, surveying the land once more. “It’s laughable. Pathetic, even. To need the Angel’s love. To pretend she even knows I exist. But.”

“But?”

“It’s how I convinced myself to come down here today. Poor little Nessa wanted to beg off, claim she was still recovering from her last hit of glory. Then while you all were gone, head out and find Tibbits to make it so.” She stared straight ahead, the band of muscle over the joint of her jaw leaping into view, fading away, leaping into view, fading away. “But. I tried Eadwolf’s stupid advice. Closed my eyes, and thought of her, down in my Cosmos. Thought of her loving me. Thinking I was… I don’t know. Worthy? And it was enough. Just barely enough to tip me into coming with you all instead of running down to the Shambles.”

Harald rose to his feet and fought the urge to sway. Instead, he simply clapped Nessa on the shoulder, gave her a single nod when she glanced his way, her expression raw and with a readiness to take affront, then began marching back to their friends. “Glad to hear it. Let’s move out.”

Nessa hung back for a moment, and he didn’t think she’d follow, but then Harald heard her sigh and start trudging after him.

“How’s everybody doing?” asked Harald as he rejoined the small group. “Vic? New Level?”

“Yes.” Vic looked up from where he was tending his rapier, his smile sly. “Only four years overdue, but who am I to complain? The Fallen Angel has witnessed my feats of martial valor and felt compelled to reward me.”

“Just tell us already,” said Sam.

“Do try to control your curiosity, darling.” Vic grinned. “My new Active? Phantom’s Gambit. I can now summon a spectral duplicate of myself even as I become invisible. My reflection mimics my actions, but at a delay of one second per Throne I have Ascended.”

Nessa, coming up from behind, let out a low whistle. “I pity your foes.”

“Don’t, they deserve nothing but scorn. But! My Passive is equally delightful. Predator’s Insight. I will now gain an intuitive understanding of my opponent’s weaknesses, improving my chances of landing critical and debilitating hits. I must admit that I’d hoped for some ranged attack, but still, I can’t complain. Combined with my Inherent Alertness and Web of Steel, I’ll now be able to dance through most battlefields with utter impunity.”

“Well done.” Harald grinned. “Seriously. That sounds formidable.”

Vic all but preened.

“Sam?” Harald glanced her way. “3rd Level Netherwarden Knight?”

“I - yes.” She flushed with pleasure and turned the Eclipse Edge about in her hands. “Third Level. I can’t shake the feeling that this sword triggered it. I mean…”

Harald let her puzzle her way through her feelings, but finally she came back to the moment and smiled.

“My new Passive you’ve seen. Radiant Healing. I can force others to absorb scales, healing them even if they’re unconscious.”

“That’s incredible,” said Nessa. “Truly. That Ability alone would drive the major Houses mad in their attempts to recruit you.”

“She’s not kidding,” said Vic, tone sober. “There’s, what? A dozen healers in the city with that power? Each a House pet, paid a ludicrous amount of scales, and pampered like you wouldn’t believe. That’s incredible.”

Harald recalled the time they’d had to rush Kársek out of the dungeon in the hopes that a healer was on hand. How Countess Sonora had paid an exorbitant fee to have himself healed after his incident with the Helm of Wrath.

Now they had an embedded healer of their own. Kársek’s own wry smile as he lay on the ground was testament to its value.

“And your Active?” asked Nessa.

“Starfire Bastion.” Sam hesitated, gaze flicking from side to side as she reread the description. “Summon a radiant dome of celestial energy that forms a bastion against the forces of darkness. Each Ascended Throne will increase the size of the Bastion and cause it to last ten more seconds, shielding allies within its radius and nullifying incoming projectiles, as well as greatly reducing damage from shadow or demonic magic. Its purifying light weakens all enemies caught within. Demonic foes suffer reduced magical potency and are blinded by the brilliance of its glow.”

“Wow,” said Harald, trying not to feel uncomfortable.

“Wow is right.” Nessa gave a despairing laugh and threw her hands up. “That’s… the utility rating of that Ability is right off the charts.”

“Indeed,” said Kársek, levering himself up to sitting. “Congratulations, Sam. Your Soul Ranking continues to prove its worth.”

“Thanks,” said Sam, tone still one of disbelief.

“We’ll need to determine the size of the dome,” said Nessa. “And if there are any limitations on your movement while its activated. How quickly you can resummon it. With your two Ascended Thrones, that’s about twenty seconds of missile immunity, which would, I don’t know, allow us to close with impunity on hobgoblins.”

Harald nodded, thinking it through. “And it’s a perfect ambush weapon, too. If you summon it over foes we’re fighting in hand-to-hand combat, it’ll weaken them, maybe cause them to panic.”

Vic frowning down at his blood-smeared self. “And the way this little group of ours is going? Demonic entanglements are assured. You might prove our ace in the hole, Sam. Well done, darling.”

Sam shrugged helplessly, blushed again, and then managed a grin.

Harald gazed about the battlefield. “This proved an incredible boost to us all. I know it was…”

“Terrifying?” suggested Vic.

“Suicidally dangerous?” added Nessa.

“A little much,” continued Harald, “but we got the Servitor Crystal, two of us leveled, and both Nessa and I earned stat boosts. Kársek?”

“I kept my life,” said the dwarf. “For which I am grateful. And pushing myself as I did deepened my understanding of my Rune. I believe I will be able to summon it more quickly moving forward.”

“So.” Harald grinned. “Half-bell break, then we come back down to do it all again.”

Everyone just stared at him.

“I kid!” He gave a weak laugh. “Haha. A joke. What? You guys don’t like humor?”

“I’m the funny one,” deadpanned Vic. “Don’t try to encroach on my territory, Harray-boy. You’ll only get hurt.”

“Still.” Harald tapped his pouch where the crystal lay. “We’ve bought me another week of life. And no small amount of Golden Dawns.”

“Each adult seems to have dropped around eight or so,” said Vic, moving over to the closest column of hovering scales. “Not a bad haul, truth be told. With about - what do you all reckon? A hundred dead? That’s 800 Golden Dawns in one single encounter.”

“Which we’ll not be repeating,” said Nessa darkly. “Another dozen terror birds and someone would have assuredly died.”

“80,000 scales worth,” mused Harald. “About what I’d earn after three whole days on the 16th with Wirmas.”

“How close does this haul put you now?” asked Kársek quietly.

Harald checked his window:

Scales: 713,064/1,000,000

He’d absorbed about 120 scales during the fight. Add in another 80,000?

“Around 800,000.”

“Not bad,” said Vic. “Though there’s no longer such a huge rush to hit a million now, is there? Now that you have the crystal?”

“True.” Harald considered. “I’m still going to need that power, though, when I face Thracos.”

“But my point being that we can afford to go home and shower and take a day to relax,” said Vic, pulling gingerly at where his blood-soaked clothing was stuck to his skin. “You can reach your vaunted million in six or seven days now, instead of needing to do so in the next two.”

“True,” said Harald, forcing down his desire to protest. “You’re right. Mission accomplished. Now I just need to drop this crystal off and see what new impossibility Thracos has in store for me.”

“Not impossible,” smiled Sam. “Seeing as we just accomplished it.”

“Fair.” Harald beamed at his companions. “All right, well. Great work, everybody. That was… amazing. And we’ve lived to tell the tale. Can’t ask for better than that.”

Vic went to protest, then shrugged and smiled instead.

“Nessa?” Harald raised a brow. “Shall we head back?”

“Let’s. But we need Shadowpaw to lead us to the portal, or we’ll just be wandering in circles. How long do you think until you can resummon him?”

“Hmm.” Harald focused inwards. “A bell or two? It takes time for him to reform his essence.”

“Then let’s move around the ridge, away from these corpses. They’re sure to attract carrion eaters soon. We’ll stay out here on the crater though. Better line of sight on anything trying to ambush us. When you can resummon him, we’ll go home.”

“First,” said Vic brightly, “it’s time for my favorite hobby: collecting scales.”

“I’ll help,” said Sam, and the pair set off across the battlefield, scooping up hovering scales wherever they went.

“You feeling all right?” asked Harald, extending a hand to Kársek and hauling him to his feet.

“Physically, much better. In here, where it counts?” And the dwarf touched his chest. “Depleted. I’d not want to summon a Rune for some time yet.”

“I know what you mean. Toward the end there, I felt like I still had plenty of power with which to fuel my Thrones. But my very essence felt… feverish. Worn thin.”

Kársek nodded. “We’re but vessels for otherworldly power, Harald. Channeling too much will take a toll. We all need to rest.”

Harald nodded reluctantly. He wanted to refute his friend’s advice, but how could he? That thrill. That dark, murderous, savage satisfaction he derived while slaughtering foes was… intoxicating. He wanted to lose himself in it, to find personal annihilation in its endless ecstasy.

Harald shuddered, and rubbed his eye with the base of his palm. No. Kársek was right. They’d drop off the Servitor Crystal, go home, and rest.

Maybe he’d take tomorrow off.

Just… rest.

Perhaps he’d even practice Eadwolf’s meditation technique.

Harald felt a knot of dissatisfaction tighten within him, a rough sense of impatience, of frustration.

Well, he’d take a break from the dungeon for a day, at any rate. Gorkin? Gorkin could use some love.

*

They showered up at the Angel’s Rest, the huge inn that bordered the Dungeon Plaza. Their blood-drenched appearance drew curious stares and murmurs followed their passage to the bathing area, but they were hardly the first raiding party to emerge from the dungeons covered in gore.

Vic insisted they indulge, for the Rest was uniquely equipped to cater to begrimed raiders’ needs. First a shower, were servants dumped bucket after bucket of hot water over Harald’s head and then provided him with soapy scrub brushes with which to scrape and lather off the tacky blood, and then two attendants who massaged his scalp as they rinsed it again and again to help sluice the congealed blood out of his hair.

It took an extraordinary amount of water and soap to lather the copious amounts of gore off him, but neither attendant seemed put off by it; they chatted amiably with him as they worked, asking details about his raid but taking no offense when he declined to give much information; indeed, so friendly were they, that Harald felt himself drifting off into a state of contented bliss as they worked his hair, lathered his body, and in general offered admiring, almost shameless compliments as to his physique.

He had to admit it felt good. To have two strong women pamper and enjoy the raw athleticism and aesthetics of his new form.

When finally they were done, he tipped them well, then ambled down to the section of the bathhouse were huge tubs steamed with fragrant oils. Kársek was already there, his beard unbraided and floating across the surface of the huge tub. Harald lowered himself into the scalding water with a pleasured hiss, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

The heat sank into his muscles, into his joints, into the very essence of his being. The tub was large enough for him to float; soon his thoughts began to melt and drift away, leaving him in a state of blissed out enervation.

“These are the moments,” rumbled Kársek. “The moments we must enjoy. The reprieves between the violence. The quiet moments. The islands of bliss.”

Harald frowned, trying to formulate a response, but all he could manage in the end was a grunt of agreement.

“Good food. Laughter with friends. The occasional hot soak. Primal. Animal-like. A chance to come back to our selves. To remember what we fight for, who we are.” Kársek’s voice was a low rumble, half-dazed, as if he spoke without quite realizing what he said. “Friends. Bonds. Health. All this deserves our gratitude. If all beings could set their expectations at this and nothing more, then the Continent would be a better place.”

Harald allowed the words to slip into his mind, and there hover, as he hovered in the hot water.

“Arrogance. Ego. Ambition. Greed. Jealousy. All must melt away before we can be whole.” Kársek exhaled contentedly. “That which brings us true happiness is simple. It is everything else we believe that we need that brings misery. Pain. Suffering.”

“Karsy, baby,” said Vic, stepping into the hot water. “Please. Were I to deprive myself of arrogance and envy, I’d be unable to rise in the morning.”

Kársek grunted in amusement.

“Ah,” sighed Vic. “Now this I could do all day.”

Kársek spoke no more after that.

But his words resonated within Harald.

If only the world were so simple. If only happiness were the sole goal. If only Flutic didn’t need defending. If only strength wasn’t the most crucial virtue in need of developing.

Harald frowned, saying these things to himself, but unsure if they were true.

If only.