Transcendence, page 44
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
A foul, musty smell infused with the stench of decay bombarded my nose as soon as the entrance to the dungeon was opened.
“Have a pleasant stay, everyone,” Albold said, gesturing us inside like a tour guide.
Virion rolled his eyes and muttered something about telling Albold’s father as he followed behind the leading soldier. It was amusing to see Albold stiffen and pale after overhearing the remark.
Surprisingly, the first level of the dungeon wasn’t as bad as I remembered it from when I had first come here, after the incident at Xyrus. The area was relatively well lit with spacious cells that seemed to have been empty for a while. If not for the mysterious stone walls that inhibited mana manipulation and the fact that the cells had reinforced metal bars rather than doors, it might have seemed like the designers of this castle had simply gotten lazy and decided to dub this area a dungeon.
Still, the lack of ventilation was stifling and, though the cells were mostly empty, they didn’t seem to have been cleaned in a long time.
“Does it bring up some unpleasant memories?” Virion asked, catching me studying the exact cell that I had been locked up in.
“Sort of. I was thinking how funny it is that I’ve just came back from a meeting with the man who plotted alongside the Greysunders and the Vritra to kill me,” I explained, ignoring the wary glances of the guards around us.
Virion’s voice became serious. “If it had been solely up to my discretion, I would’ve locked them up myself, but Lord Aldir was right—we need the Glayders. The Greysunders always had a weak hold on their kingdom, but the Glayders are respected—almost revered—by nearly all humans. Sapin would be in chaos if they learned about what had happened. Not something we need for this war.”
I nodded. “Speaking of which, where is that three-eyed asura anyway? He hasn’t shown himself, even after what happened with Rahdeas and Olfred.”
“Three-eyed asura… is it because of your journey to Epheotus that you can be so casual with the asuras?” Virion asked uncertainly. “And I haven’t been able to communicate with Lord Aldir through the transmission artifact he gave me.”
“That’s not good,” I said, and resumed walking toward the far end of the dungeon. “We’ll talk more about it later.”
“Agreed,” Virion replied solemnly, following closely.
We made our way to the end of the floor where two cells had been joined to become one large, spacious room. The cell was furnished with a couch and a large bed topped with stuffed animals. In front of the couch, a decorative tea set was laid out on small table. On the couch was a little girl, nodding off to sleep while she read a book.
I motioned for the lead guard to unlock the cell and stepped inside. “Hey, Mica. Sorry for taking so long to visit you.”
The dwarven Lance put down her book and stretched her thin legs and arms. “Hi, Arthur.”
We chatted a little while Virion and the guards waited on the other side of the barred gate. The old elf wore a somber expression, undoubtedly feeling guilty about having her holed up here while investigations were still ongoing. But because of her position and the fact that both Olfred and Rahdeas had betrayed Dicathen, the matter had to be examined with utmost scrutiny before she could be allowed her freedom.
We talked about unimportant things, and I filled her in on how my training was progressing. She tried to give me some tips on gravity magic, but I had trouble following along with her nonsensical explanations.
“It shouldn’t be long until the team Virion sent out has gathered enough evidence,” I consoled her.
Mica shot me a smile. “Mica knows. Don’t worry about me—do what you gotta do. Mica doesn’t blame anyone but that old bastard, Rahdeas.”
“Well, I’ll tell you now that his cell isn’t nearly as nice as yours.”
She nodded. “Get Mica out soon, okay? Being alone here without being able to use magic is so boring.”
“Of course,” I promised, giving her a hug before walking out of the cell.
I waved once more, then followed Virion and the guards to the forbidding door at the end of the hall.
“Ready?” Virion asked, his expression grim.
“Let’s get this over with.”
I’d thought the stench of the first level of the dungeon was bad, but the lower level was vomit-inducing.
I could feel my stomach revolt at the acrid and metallic odors of chemicals and blood. Suppressing the increasing urge to gag, I followed Virion down the dark flight of stairs until we reached a small area that housed the most heinous criminals. I was surprised to find I could use magic inside, but after surveying the walls and the enclosed vaults in the room, I was pretty certain that the use of magic was limited only to the tiny walkway between the cells.
A burly man in a bloody apron, his face covered by a black mask, greeted us. Standing next to him was a thin elderly man with a hunched back and hooked nose.
“Commander. General. We are honored to have you here,” the old man spoke with a grating voice.
“Gentry,” Virion said, returning the greeting. “Take us to Rahdeas first.”
The elder looked at me with uncertainty but responded with a bow. “At your command,” he rasped.
We followed behind the elder as he practically slithered his way to a small cell and gestured with another bow. “Here is the criminal.”
Despite Rahdeas being Elijah’s caretaker, basically his father figure, I had little affection for the traitor—but even I had trouble confidently saying that he deserved to be in the state he was in now.
The cell was dark and shadows censored most of his injuries, but I could tell by the cuts and blood stains on his stark-naked body that he’d been heavily tortured. His hands, tied to the chair he was sitting on, were dripping blood.
His fingernails were pulled, I noted with a wince.
More than the physical injuries, though, it was Rahdeas’s blank expression that made me shiver. His eyes were foggy and a trail of saliva ran down from the corner of his mouth.
“Ah, his current state is from the side effects of my questioning,” the elderly man said, noticing my gaze.
“Gentry specializes in wind and sound magic to create hallucinations to aid in questioning,” Virion explained.
It was at times like these that I thought about the true function of magic. Much like technology, magic could just as easily be used to destroy as to create something wonderful.
“The traitor is strong. It’ll take a little more time to break him, I’m afraid,” Gentry said bitterly.
“It’s imperative that we find out what he knows,” Virion replied curtly, casting a disdainful gaze at Rahdeas before turning back to the old man. “Now, what of the retainer?”
“Ah, yes. He’s a most fascinating specimen. Very thick skin and a strong mental fortitude, even with his ability to use magic taken from him. I feel we’re close to breaking him though. Keeping him in the small vault so his movement is limited has been driving him crazy,” the old man said with glee.
Virion shot Gentry a look of disapproval but didn’t say anything.
With a cough, Gentry motioned for his burly associate to open the thick vault. Runes were inscribed on every inch of the box, which seemed more like a coffin than a prison cell. “Please be careful, Commander, General. While the vault will keep the Vritra from using magic, he’s still fairly strong, and he’s in a rather crazed state of mind right now.”
The vault creaked open and I found myself locking eyes with a disheveled Uto, who was garbed in restraining clothes. Just one look was enough to tell me that he was far from broken.
The retainer broke into a grin as he shot me a wink. “Hello, pup.”
Chapter 52
Solitary Mindframe
Uto’s sinister voice sent shivers down my spine, and although he was restrained and locked up inside an anti-magic vault, a familiar sense of dread pulsed through me.
Everyone in this room thought I was the one who had defeated Uto—but the truth was that both Sylvie and I together had barely managed to put a few scratches on him.
“You look a tad uncomfortable, Uto,” I quipped, hoping to mask any sign of weakness.
The retainer’s smile disappeared, replaced by a snarl. “What did you do with my horns, lesser?”
Taking the black horn out of my dimension ring, I casually tossed it in the air in front of him. “Oh, you mean this?”
“Insolent little—”
“Stop,” I cut him off. “I’m not here to exchange insults with you. I have better things to do.”
Uto’s gray face darkened, his eyes wild. “I swear to Vritra, if I get out, you’ll wish you had died that day.”
I shook my head slowly.
“I’m sure there’s something you want more than getting out or inflicting pain on me.” Leaning in closer to Uto with an arrogant sneer plastered on my face, I continued, “I know that the fact that you have no idea how you even lost to me is slowly eating you up right now.”
I didn’t think the retainer’s face could get any angrier but Uto ground his teeth, jerking desperately to free himself.
“Close it,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on his until the thick rune-inscribed door shut firmly.
“What was tha—”
I put up a finger to my lips to silence the confused commander. It was only after the four of us got back to the entrance of this level of the dungeon that I spoke softly. “Leave him be for now.”
“Ento and I have been torturing him—physically and mentally—but I’ve never seen him this worked up,” Gentry murmured. His burly associate nodded beside him.
“I doubt hallucinations or physical pain will work on that arrogant sadomasochist,” I replied.
Virion tilted his head. “Sadomaso—what?”
“It’s nothing.” I smiled faintly, then turned to Gentry. “Don’t open his vault.”
The hunched elder furrowed his brows. “No offense, General, but from my experience, it’s best to prod while his mental fortitude is in disarray, as it is now. Besides, what if he does remember how he lost to you during that time?”
“He won’t,” I assured him. “And that’s going to slowly drive him insane. Let him stew until I decide to come back.”
“I don’t like that look you have,” Virion muttered. “What are you planning?”
“I’ll be the one to interrogate him when the time comes,” I answered.
“Are you ready?” Emily asked from behind her increasing number of panels. She looked like she was inside the cockpit of an airplane from my previous life.
“Almost,” I replied as I finished strapping in, securing the last of the bands on my arms. I winced when I tightened the strap around my arm too tightly.
Damn it.
“We will move on to the three-versus-one scenario starting today so please be focused, General Arthur,” Alanis informed us, apparently noticing the blank expression on my face. I was still thinking about the visit to the dungeon earlier in the day.
I stood up and swung my arms, ready to let loose. “Got it. What element will I be restricting for the first part?”
My training assistant’s eyes glowed in their familiar array of colors as she ‘scanned’ me before looking down at her notes. “Water—and its deviant form, of course.”
I walked to the other end of the training room, stopping about a dozen yards away from Camus, Hester, and Kathyln. Meeting Uto had made me antsy. I’d been confident back in the dungeon that Uto wouldn’t find out how I had beat him—because I wasn’t the one that beat him.
What sort of Lance am I if I can’t even beat a retainer? Let alone a Scythe.
As soon as Alanis gave the signal to begin, I flashed toward Hester, leaving only a single imprint on the ground.
In a single, fluid motion, I condensed a layer of wind around my hand, shaping it and sharpening it into a transparent blade before I swung horizontally at the fire mage’s torso.
Hester’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but unlike other mages, she was competent enough to respond even to my blitz attack.
Knowing that fire was weak to such a compressed form of wind, she opted to block my strike by grabbing my arm while strengthening her body with mana.
You may have an advantage over me in knowledge of fire magic, but if you think you can try and beat me in hand-to-hand combat…
I let her grip my arm, but grabbed the arm she was using to hold on to me. Hester was in a stance that helped her withstand a pushing force so when I pulled her back instead, she stumbled forward. Utilizing that momentum, I pivoted and positioned my hip underneath her center of gravity to flip her to the ground.
Hester’s breath was knocked from her as her back hit the ground. Just as I prepared for another strike to activate her lifeline artifact, a blast of water completely drenched me.
Before I even had the chance to turn to my attacker, the water covering my body froze, restricting any sort of movement.
I augmented my body in a layer of fire, thawing myself free, but Hester had already used my brief moment of incapacitation to put some distance between us.
Ignoring Hester for a brief moment while she recovered, I dashed toward the princess while trapping her legs with the ground beneath her. Taken off guard, Kathyln immediately clad her body in ice as she had before, no doubt a technique she had learned from Varay.
With her body strengthened, she attempted to pry herself free from the earthen shackles. But I didn’t give her the chance. As I approached her, I continuously manipulated the ground around her, reinforcing it and pushing it further up her legs.
It was an idea I’d gotten from watching Olfred—the coffin of magma that he had trapped and executed Sebastian in. Of course, I had no intention of doing the same thing, but just as many earth mages clad themselves in an armor of rock, one could easily encase another in the same armor without giving them the freedom of mobility.
Kathyln struggled to free herself as I continued my spell. Every time she broke off a piece of stone, a large slab would take its place, slowly working its way up her small body.
In moments, the princess was covered to her neck. A layer of frost slowly attempted to weaken the integrity of the earthen restraint, but it was too late.
I charged mana into my fist, forming a gauntlet of crackling lightning. A twinge of guilt passed through me as I raised my fist to strike the finishing blow.
She has the lifeline artifact, Arthur. Besides, you can’t afford to go easy on anyone if you hope to win this war.
Kathyln regarded me seriously, no trace of fear. Just as my fist was about to make contact with her, however, a gust of wind pushed me back, catching me in the center of a whirling formation of wind just above the ground.
“Erupt!” Camus barked, taking advantage of my brief loss of equilibrium by unleashing the powerful cyclone.
My vision was obstructed by walls of wind around me, and for a moment, everything was deathly still. Any sounds were washed over by the constant roar of the tornado. I soon found myself panting—gasping for breath in this funnel of low air pressure.
“Annoying,” I muttered in between a strained breath.
The walls of the twister closed in, threatening to whirl and throw me wherever it pleased, but thankfully, I still had enough oxygen to retaliate.
My initial reaction was to burrow myself underground—that would’ve been the smartest choice. However—maybe because of the diminishing oxygen supply—I found myself picturing Uto in front of me. His savage grin seemed to say ‘All you can do is run or hide in the face of something greater than you,’ and it ignited a rage in me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
To hell with strategy. If I can’t even face this, how am I going to go up against the Scythes?
After anchoring my feet to the ground using earth magic, I began conjuring an opposing current to negate the powerful wind spell slowly closing in.
As my spell clashed against Camus’s spell, tears began forming. It seemed I was close to neutralizing it when a dull pain radiated across my back, knocking me forward. With my feet fixed to the ground, I bowed awkwardly, pushing off with my palms to put myself back upright.
I cursed in my mind, afraid to waste any unnecessary air, as I gazed at the object that had bludgeoned me from the back. It was large boulder of ice. Worse yet, it wasn’t the only one. Swirling around me, riding the tornado, were several dozens more chunks of ice—each at least twice the size of my head.
Still, I continued attempting to negate Camus’s tornado spell. Perhaps it was my stubbornness. I was adamant, desperate to win against this ‘foe’ that towered over me. As the tornado closed in on me, my body became a mere punching bag for the ice boulders.
I had to hand it to Kathyln for the creativity in her chunks of ice; some of them were just heavy bludgeons, but some had sharp edges that cut through my clothes and drew blood.
Despite the repeated blows, however, my body felt numb. I was lightheaded and a strong feeling of fatigue washed over me.
The only thing that kept me going was the notion that overcoming this spell head-on was somehow winning against Uto.
I continued to think these irrational thoughts until I noticed—too late—that the boulders of ice had disappeared. In their stead was a growing fire that coalesced with the tornado, fusing into a flaming cyclone.
My vision began to spot, and my imagination of Uto became a full-blown hallucination. It only lasted for a few seconds until I blacked out, and my last thoughts were to blame the lack of oxygen for my senseless actions.
It felt like I had only blinked, yet when I opened my eyes again, I was looking up at Kathyln, the ceiling of the training room visible behind her. I was lying down.
A cool sensation radiated from my forehead. I fumbled with it and realized it was an ice-cold handkerchief.
“You’re still a bit hot. Keep it on,” Kathyln urged, putting the cloth back on me with just a tinge of worry in her brusque tone.
“Thank you,” I muttered. “And sorry for back there.”
