Exalted champion: CH 8 (rough draft) (Patreon)

Chapter 8: Forging Madness

The austere stone of the dungeon lobby greeted me once more, along with shocked glances and then eyes being quickly averted. The guards at the arch and the attendants behind counters stood straighter, tension and rigid posture their formal shield.

I scanned the alcoves with their many adventuring teams, along with their exalted mages, getting ready to dive into the dungeon. I found Titus and Lucius with the rest of the team.

I headed over to them, “Exalted Prince Grayson.” His tone was formal, filled with military precision, his bow precise, and I could see the glint of amusement and theatrics in his eyes. He dropped to one knee, his team following suit with synchronized grace. "The Titan's Shield awaits your orders."

"Rise," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We have work to do."

Titus stood, his team rising in formation behind him. "As you command."

I motioned for them to follow, and we entered the portal, swirling lights and a dizzying swirling twisting of the guts, and I was pulled into a higher frame rate of time.

Rakthanos's forge cathedral materialized around us, the immense marble floors with their pulsing orange veins guiding our path forward. The Titan's Shield followed me in tight formation, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous space.

We passed through the wide arch into the main temple, and the colossal bronze and iron statue of Rakthanos loomed over us, hammer raised high above the altar-anvil. The dormant forges lined the walls, silent sentinels waiting to be awakened.

"WELCOME, MORTALS!" Rakthanos boomed, his voice far too large for his tiny form. "BEHOLD THE—oh, it's you again, Eric. And you brought friends! The Titans Shield! How delightful.”

"Good to see you, God of the primal fire," Titus said, bowing deeply.

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is,” he said with a regal waving of his hand, then he turned to me, eyes burning bright, “You come to claim more adamantium, Eric?"

"Five coins for needles," I said, "and five for a start on a new weapon."

Rakthanos mimed a whistle, flames flickering blue at his lips. "You have ambition. Ten coins in one day. The abyss, if it could track such things, might just want your head after that."

“Wait, so is that too much?” I asked.

“Oh no, the abyss will know that its vault guardian died, but it won’t know from who or how or any of that. The abyss is, well, not quite sane by any definition of the word you or I would know or even come close to fathoming.” Rakthanos winced.

Never a good sign when he did that. “So, no limit?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t do more than ten in a day, though. That’s about what Legion squeezes from it on a rough run.” He paused. “Even that’s rare nowadays.”

“Noted,” I said, turning to Titus, “You got your nursery rhymes ready?”

“Humph, yes. Though I never thought my singing voice would become so necessary for survival,” Titus said, the shake of his head an amusement before the wonderful horrors that awaited us on today’s dungeon adventure.

“Best get to it,” I said, heading around the anvil altar.

“Best of luck, give it a good old punch in the face for me,” Rakthanos’s chipper voice was less than reassuring.

“Will do,” I said, heading through the hallway that would lead back and down to the adamantium vault and the guardian that would do its best to consume us body and soul.

The walls of the hall, once pristine white marble veined with glowing orange power, changed after a few paces down its length. The black veins of corruption pulsated along a boundary that they could not advance further past. The sconces on the wall would have provided light long ago. Now they only cast the memory of light from their unkindled depths.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and the opening that held the broken metal doors. Beyond their shattered form lay the vault, a room two hundred paces from the center to the edge. At that center was the liquid, dark, viscous blackness that radiated a foulness into the world around it that I had few words to describe.

The corrupted dungeon creature the pool held was twisted beyond all recognition, its sight and limbs, the stuff of nightmares, and its voice, a mind clawing agony that sought nothing but the doom of all who would try and claim a coin of adamantium.

And I’m here to get ten…

My thoughts faded as I looked at Titus and Branwen, each nodded, with weapons drawn, focused on the fight ahead. Lucius and Chariklia rolled their shoulders, and Clymiphae stamped her hooves as she secured her helmet and long spear.

I walked into the chamber ready for the tentacles, ready for the voice. I started singing even before the first of its psychic echoes reached my mind. “Marry had a little lamb…”

Oh again. It is coming. He comes! Always he comes.

“Little lamb,” I sang as I rolled to the side, dodging a tentacle that crashed against the stone floor.

Yes! Yes! The Prime Tasty!

The titans' shield fanned out, shields echoing from blows and weapons singing their harmony of death.

“And its fleece was white as snow…” mana tore from me as I unleashed the might of fire and earth. Flames danced as skills erupted from my team, each child's song turned to a morbid dirge, a chorus of death to lay the corrupted creature to rest.

The fight for the adamantium coins had begun.

Two days, I thought as the smoking husk of the vault guardian slumped, its psychic echo fading in our minds.

YOU… CANNOT… UNMAKE WHAT… NEVER WAS…

“Clear. Sound off!” Titus yelled into the now quiet of the chamber.

“Branwen, here.” She said, an arrow still nocked in her bow.

“Lucius, here, arm broken.” He reported he had taken a massive hit on his shield, and the vibration had shattered the bone in his arm.

“Chariklia, Her, Minor cuts.” This time, the tentacles had razor-sharp teeth along them.

“Clymiphae, here.” The centaur woman answered.

“Eric, here,” I said more from habit, an end-of-fight ritual that started the come down from the fight. The adrenaline was still surging from the two days of fighting we had just done. Each coin we collected was another step forward for me.

The broken white pilled rose from the lake at the center of the room, the dark black waters receding. It would be a few hours before the creature would reform naturally. We could force it to appear, but we had decided to let it naturally respawn; forcing it might make the corruption of the abyss take notice of what we were doing, and the last thing I wanted was for that thing to know I was getting ready to purge it from this reality.

I walked over and picked the oddly dark, glowing coin of metal up off the pillar. As soon as I did it retracted, melting back into the vault floor. I placed the coin in my storage ring.

We did not talk as we headed back to the main cathedral. As long as there were no life-threatening injuries, we would deal with anything minor in the much nicer and brighter main hall. Staying in the dark vault cavern a moment longer than necessary was not high on the list of things I think anyone would want to do.

"Ten down," I said as we entered the cathedral's main hall. The soft glow of orange-veined marble was a welcome relief after the corrupted darkness of the vault.

I walked over to Lucius and placed a hand on his arm, letting the healing magic flow through. The bone knitted together beneath my fingers, whole again.

"Thanks," Lucius flexed his newly healed arm, testing its strength with cautious optimism. "Good as new, Prince Eric."

I stepped back, watching as the rest of the team tended to their injuries. The exhaustion of ten consecutive battles weighed on all of us, but there was a quiet satisfaction in having accomplished our goal.

Rakthanos materialized on the altar-anvil, his fiery form flickering with interest. "Well, well! Look who survived. Ten coins in one go—I'd say I'm impressed, but that would imply I had doubts, which of course I didn't." He clapped his hands, little blue flames washing out each time his hands hit, then he started striding across the anvil with tiny flaming footsteps.

We had set up a small camp on the high dais altar in the cathedral, and all of us took seats in the portable chairs that Titan’s Shield had brought. Camp food was out and ready to be eaten, and our bedrolls were still scattered around the small, portable campfire pit that Titus had set up.

No one spoke at first. We chewed, washed the taste of battle out of our mouths, and let the adrenaline bleed off in silence. The others sat scattered around the altar, the exhaustion giving us all permission to drop the pretense of discipline. Even Titus let his head hang for a moment and just breathed, his eyes closed. His helmet rested in his lap, his face pale beneath the streaks of soot.

Uncorking a bottle of liquor, I poured a measure of the liquid fire into each of our cups and passed them around. “To the dead,” I said, and raised mine. “And to us, not joining them.”

There was a pause, then a chorus of clinks and grunted approval.

We fell into the ritual of debrief. Retelling the fight, arguing over who nearly died the most, laughing too hard at the worst moments. It was as if the cathedral itself demanded some tribute of memory before it would let us go. Even the cold altar felt less alien in the company of the living.

"You did well today," Titus said, refilling his cup. "That last manifestation was particularly vicious."

"Those teeth on the tentacles were new," Chariklia agreed, running a finger along a shallow cut on her forearm. "It's learning, adapting to our strategies."

Clymiphae nodded solemnly. "Each time we kill it, it returns stronger. Different."

"Makes you wonder what it'll become if we keep this up," Lucius muttered, flexing his healed arm. "How many more times can we kill it before it becomes something we can't handle?"

I took another swig of the fiery liquid. "As many times as necessary."

Rakthanos flared brightly from his perch on the edge of the altar. "Spoken like a true champion! Or a complete fool. The line between the two is remarkably thin."

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the tension in my shoulders finally begin to loosen. The weight of the ten adamantium coins in my storage ring was a satisfying pressure against my consciousness—tangible proof of our victory.

"The singing was the worst part," Clymiphae said, brushing her long hair back from her face. "If I never have to hear 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider' again, it'll be too soon."

"At least it wasn't 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat' for the tenth time," Chariklia added, her voice still hoarse from battle cries and nursery rhymes.

Lucius flexed his newly healed arm. "Next time, we should bring a bard. Let someone else handle the singing while we focus on the killing."

Rakthanos snorted from his perch on the anvil. "Oh yes, because nothing says 'serious dungeon diving' like bringing a lute player to a fight with an abyssal horror."

I finished my drink and set the cup down. "We got what we came for. Ten coins—half for the emperor's needles, half for a weapon that might actually help against the abyss."

Titus nodded, his expression sobering. "Speaking of which, we should discuss our next steps. The weekend approaches—if we're to make progress on clearing more levels, we'll need a strategy."

"Not today," I said, stretching my arms above my head. "We've earned a break. Besides, I've got to move into the royal apartments and deal with my... new wives."

Branwen's ears twitched with slight disgust. "Yes, Tiffany and Adelia. You’ll need to hide your coffin road affiliation from them. Any way to divorce them?"

"I’ll be able to keep it from them, I think. Unfortunately, there’s no way of doing that without completely ruining them," I added. "Part of Leonard's... inheritance. Though it might be better to call it a burden."

"Tiffany and Adelia," Titus said, his voice neutral but his eyes knowing. "That will be... interesting."

"That's one word for it," I muttered, standing up and brushing crumbs from my armor. "We should pack up. I've got an Imperial bank vault to inspect and an apartment to claim."

The team moved with practiced efficiency, breaking down the camp and erasing all evidence of our presence. Bedrolls were tied, the portable fire pit was disassembled, and trash was collected and stored. Within minutes, the cathedral altar looked untouched, as if we'd never been there at all.

"When will we dive again, Prince Eric?" Titus asked as he shouldered his pack.

"This next week, Tamuss," I replied, checking my armor for damage. "I need to clear more levels and get to twelve as soon as possible. The abyss isn't waiting, and neither can I."

Titus nodded, his face set with grim determination. "The Shield will be ready."

I nodded to Titus and glanced back at Rakthanos, who was watching us with a mixture of amusement and something almost like fondness.

"Until next time, little fire god," I said, giving him a casual salute.

Rakthanos's flames flickered brighter. "Off you go then, meat-bags. Try not to die in embarrassing ways between visits. And remember—"

"Hydrate," I finished for him. "Got it."

"I was going to say 'don't trust anything that speaks in your head,' but hydration is important too." He made a shooing motion with his tiny flaming hands. "Go on then, I'll just stay here, alone, contemplating the infinite mysteries of the universe... and possibly taking a nap. The universe isn't going to save itself." Rakthanos flicked his wrist dismissively.

I turned to the Titan's Shield team. "Everyone ready?"

A chorus of affirmations answered me. Branwen checked her quiver one last time, while Lucius tested his healed arm with a few practice swings.

Titus secured the last of his gear and nodded to me. "Ready when you are, Prince Eric."

I took one last look around the cathedral, its vast marble expanse humming with ancient power. The dormant forges, the towering statue, the altar-anvil—all of it felt more familiar now, less alien. A strange comfort in a place that should inspire nothing but awe.

"I want to leave the dungeon now," I said clearly.

The familiar pull seized me, a vertigo-inducing compression as the world folded around us. The world compressed, twisted, and pulled. The cathedral blurred, colors smearing like wet paint, my stomach lurched as time reasserted its normal flow, and then we were standing in the dungeon lobby, the transition jarring as always, surrounded by the bustle of other adventuring parties. The transition always left me disoriented, like stepping off a spinning carnival ride.

Titus checked his timepiece and whistled low. "Four hours. We spent two days in there.”

"Time dilation, Ugh, useful if not a little nauseating," I said, rolling my shoulders to ease the lingering stiffness.

The lobby bustled with activity—students preparing for their own dives, porters hauling equipment, and guards watching everything with practiced indifference. Several heads turned our way, eyes widening at the sight of the new prince returning from a dive.

"Same time on Tamuss, Exalted Prince Grayson?" Titus asked quietly, his formal demeanor back in place now that we were in public.

I nodded. "Yes, I'll send word if I change my mind. You are dismissed.” I said in an offhand voice as if dismissing any other servant.

I walked up the stairs into the college, the act of prince and exalted mage back on for any eyes that may be watching. Titus and his team headed back into the adventurer lobby and out of sight.

More than a few people stared at me as I walked up the steps and through the main atrium to the elevators. But the gazes were not hostile, more awe and curiosity. My armor had clearly seen use, and considering I doubted Leaonard had gone into the dungeon, people were beginning to notice how their new prince acted.

The bronze elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped out into the golden-lit corridor, the veins of actual gold in the marble floor catching the light. The air still smelled of exotic spices and expensive incense, but something was different. A faint scent of... lavender? Ashley's favorite.

The marble floors gleam beneath my armored boots. Each footfall echoed in the cavernous corridor, announcing my approach. The royal guards straightened when they saw and heard me.

As I approached the massive double doors of my new apartment, I paused. The Palebreaker family crest had already been removed, leaving behind a pale outline where it once hung. In its place was a freshly mounted plaque bearing my own house sigil, the stylized tree and branches of House Grayson. It still needed color, and the plaque was made of wood, obviously a carved mock-up for one that would be cast in metal.

That was quick. Ashley works fast, and more importantly, how had she handled Tiffany and Adelia?