Chapter 171 (Patreon)

AN: FLASHBANG! Puts a chapter in your hand and runs away. ENJOY!!!!

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The Creator, Occupied Atlantis, The Kalenic Sea

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My first thought as I watched the Life Templar kill my Lava Wyrm with a mere glare... Was that she really needed to die, especially since she was the crusader's most powerful healer. The problem was that most of my monsters left on the upper and middle floors were just that: monsters. Living beings that were susceptible to, as I'd seen the woman perform: sudden brain hemorrhage, their hearts exploding and rapidly expanding, malignant tumours and/or cancers. Most of the Manabeings that were, by their very nature, immune to these kinds of spells had been moved to the lower floors. The closest ones remaining would be the Ice manabeings on the glacier in the Eighth, or the Death manabeings in the Pyramid on the Ninth. They'd already passed the stone and metal golems in the Fifth and... purposefully sent her back to the surface for that period... Damn.

They really were prepared, huh?

But that wasn't the point. Pan was a problem I needed to solve, yes, one that could very well spell my end if left unaddressed. Even then, though, she was but a single cog in a larger problem: the Crusaders making a second portal to give their most powerful members a chance to rest, relax, and recuperate. The most dangerous part of my dungeon, as the Heroes Descendants proved, was how it could wear down invaders over time. Supplies were used, rations eaten, potions drunk, and injuries accumulated.

As frustrating as it was that the Crusaders had, yet again, managed to open a backdoor into the dungeon, I could only blame myself. I knew they had other space core pairs, and I'd had dozens of opportunities to kill them outright that I... decided not to. As satisfying as it would have been to push them into the lava lake, or drop a column of lava on them when they entered the sixth... I didn't want to kill the summoned heroes. Only the Templar truly wanted me dead. The Heroes, as far as I could tell, were following along until they saw an opportunity to escape... one I had multiple options for when they reached certain places in the dungeon.

What I needed was a way to get rid of the Templars, preferably by eliminating the healers first. To do this, I needed to separate them from the Heroes so they wouldn't decide to kill the heroes for 'defecting' or to deny me their aid out of spite. For that... they needed to reach the Seventh at least. The caves were winding and intricate, and they had changed drastically since the crusaders arrived. Their information on that floor was out of date, and thus it represented my first real opportunity.

The second thing I needed to do was stop them from opening those portals, and that was easier said than done. The Crusaders in the dungeon kept the pieces for the frames safe and, as far as I knew, had dozens of spares. The Space Cores, however, were more limited; that was their weak point. They only had so many pairs, and I'd already stolen one set. Again, while stealing them from the crusaders in the dungeon was easier said than done, it was far more feasible to steal the paired cores from the surface. 

They'd increased the guards around the portal itself, now watching the frame as well as around it. I wouldn't be able to steal an active core again, but that was only one option. My second option was finding where the rest were kept, which, thanks to my little spies, I already knew. My Rats and Seagulls had seen Pan, the Life Crusader, pull one from an expanded bag. If I could steal that bag, I'd deny them the rest of the cores. But that didn't make the prospect any easier. I had a feeling the Templar they left on the surface to manage the larger army and supplies would keep it on them at all times, and I'd either have to steal it in their sleep or take it by force.

As much as they tried their best not to underestimate me, they'd already failed. They knew I could deploy forces to the surface that had dealt a serious blow to their invasion, as I had when the Bahrain invaded. After killing my sea monsters, though, they'd taken the island itself without a fight. No defenders, no humans or children on the beaches... nothing. After that one incident with Gull stealing that dungeon core from them, I'd refrained from any other assaults. Their army, sickly and hungry, hadn't received a single supply ship without it being sunk and scavenging the few supplies that survived.

They were tired, hungry, and under-defended. A single crusader on the surface was a single strong point I could plan around. I'd try slipping something into the crusader's room and stealing their cores while they slept, first. If that failed, I'd have to... hah, invade Atlantis. I'd organise a large group of manabeings or monsters, depending on whether Pan is on the surface, then use the water manabeings' portals to get them to the surface instantly. Attack, overwhelm the defenders, overwhelm the Templar on duty, and take the Space Cores from them.

While another part of me prepped for that, I refocused on the Sixth. The Crusaders had opened the portal almost 24 hours earlier and were preparing to push.

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The Cuck Sphere, The Sixth Floor, The Dungeon

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"This floor has held us up for long enough", Gregg declared. He shared a glance with the others, confirming they were ready. They were. Gregg stepped forward, then stepped up onto the air. He let the barest hint of his mana slip from the sole of his foot, and the spell launched him into the air, through the inner surface of the mana shield that had protected them for nearly two days, now. As he came into view above the low wall of hardened magma that surrounded the shield, Gregg saw the hundreds of serpents that hounded them. Large or small, they all looked fearsome. Gregg let mana slip through the thin walls of his skin and coat his palms. With a muttered incantation, he cast his spell. 

Freeze. 

The spell drew the mana up his fingers, then the volatile mana erupted from their tips. Beams of energy were something he was well known for. Expelling mana from the overflowing well of energy inside him was almost a relief, and Gregg had gotten very good at it over his long life. Energy acted much like Fire and Light in this way, creating a searing beam of pure mana that burned bright, scarring and scorching everything it touched. But Energy was not as simple as mere light or fire. It was the very power behind them. Energy was the motive force behind everything. 

And as easily as he expelled it... he could just as easily take it.

Ten blue-white beams contacted the lake of lava, and he started drinking from it. The lava immediately cooled around the points of contact, rapidly turning the bright-orange semi-solid to a dark grey amorphous surface. He drew the energy he absorbed into himself and immediately expelled it from his eyes, something he could do near-instinctively by now. The Serpents, now stuck in the solid mass, were decapitated or otherwise sliced into pieces as he panned his head around their foothold on this floor.

Below him, Gregg noted the shield falter and fall, the hardened magma explode outward, and his fellow crusaders burst into the fray. Remembering the map he'd seen, Gregg angled his fingers to draw a path across the floor, towards where he knew the Guardian's arena should be. He had perhaps only made it about half as long as it needed to be before he felt himself... tear, slightly, and Gregg immediately cut his spells off. He bled off the excess energy by making himself glow in light no one could see, warming the area around him as well.

"Well done, my friend!" Haliet praised as Gregg landed on the ground once again. Behind him, the portal was now disassembled, and the Space Core returned to its pouch. "Your path should make our fight here much easier. Stay prepared for the bats, but otherwise rest a while."

Gregg nodded, more focused on the tear than whatever the Light Champion was saying. He found it on his left hand, a small tear down the side of his pointer finger. The tear was thin, only perhaps the barest line. With a flex of will, the energy within him sewed the tear shut and held it shut. It was the hundredth such tear in his skin, though no one would know. 

The open connection to the Plane of Energy in his chest hummed, as it always hummed. It constantly leaked energy into this world through his manacore and body. Gregg of house Zeddiker, for perhaps the thousandth time, wondered what would happen should he die. Would he explode violently? All the energy in his body, released from the bindings enchanted into his skin... No. He would not die. He had too much work to do.

Gregg joined the column of crusaders as they traversed the path he'd made, feeling the weight of his centuries on his shoulders.

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The Endless Grasslands, The Twelfth Floor, The Dungeon.

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Astarion, First Bull of the Minotaur People, surveyed the planes with a gimlet eye. Here, south of Centrus Lake, the southern grasslands stretched from the edge of the Forest of Giants to the Sand Sea and the Creator's Forge, the erupting volcano at its centre, which he could still see in the distance. While the grasslands seemed perfectly flat from a distance, they were not so. Small streams led north, tributaries joining larger rivers that spilled into Centrus Lake. These rivulets, streams and rivers defined the hillocks, knolls and mounds that hid the horizon from them. Small groups of trees grew as well, emerging from the tall grass like enormous bushes. Wild and untamed.

But now, Astarion stood upon the largest such hill they'd found so far. It was surrounded on three sides by water; two streams feeding from the west into a deeper, wider river on the east. They'd have to cross the river if they wished to continue. Astarion's eyes lingered on the small forest to the south, on the other side of one of the streams. That one was shallow and easy to cross. The stream to the north was thinner, but deep. Water rushed through it much faster, particularly through a set of rapids just before it joined the river.

"Nowhere obvious to cross, then?" a voice called. Astarion turned, watching his wife Tauris approach from the rest of the caravan. They'd set up a camp at the base of the hill. Already he saw calves playing in the slow, shallow waters of the southern stream. Their grey Mythwood carts were turned in a circle, while the cattle and sheep grazed nearby under the eyes of their watchful shepherds and cowherds.

"No," Astarion grunted. Turning back to glare at the water. They'd gotten lucky with the last couple of rivers they'd come across. Normally, river crossings were hard to find, places where the water ran shallow enough that the carts could make it across. They'd have to construct rafts that could hold the carts and ferry everyone across, unless they spent the next couple of weeks following the river south until it grew shallow enough.

"The heifers and I were talking earlier," Tauris started. "This seems like the perfect place to settle finally. Easy access to clean water and lumber, and even a large river. We could make boats and trade with the towns around Centrus." Astarion grunted in acknowledgement, mulling the idea over. He didn't much care for her friends, but he valued his wife's input.

He looked at the land again, with this new focus. The forest was wild, but the trees there looked like they grew straight enough to be cultivated. Access to a river was an advantage, and they could eventually bridge it if needed. The hill was the highest point around; he could see the World Tree in the Forest of Giants to the west, the Creator's Forge to the east, Cetrus to the North, the Creator's Fortress in its centre, and the looming mountains behind it.

It did seem like an ideal spot. Good enough for him. Astarion grunted with a sharp nod, and pulled his wife in for a short hug. He leaned down, licked the top of her head, then started back down to the caravan. He needed to organise the Life Shaman and some strong Bulls to start sorting out that forest. The farmers would need to start evaluating the soil, and the craftsmen could pick a spot for that 'waterwheel' they'd pitched to him a week ago. 

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