Bio Dungeon

Book 3: Hemostasis

(The Slime Dungeon Universe)

Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue & Jonathan Brooks

Acknowledgements:

For the fans who stuck with us

Cover and Design by:

Amelia Parris

Editing by: Ellen Klowden.

●●●

All work within this novel is fictional. All characters, places, and adventures were born within the mind of the author and have no relation to anything in real life.

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Hemostasis

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Epilogue

About the Authors

Books by Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue

Books by Jonathan Brooks

Medical Glossary

Prologue

Iora, the shining capital of the North, was built during a time of great tumult. Originally, it had been a fortress, a bastion against the hordes of devilkin, built not by humans but by some other great past civilization that had warred during the Era of Devils. When the human race found it, the former bastion had long since crumbled to just the inner citadel, leaving the rocky remains of a past glory as the only memory of that distant era. When Istut was founded, the citadel was remade into the castle of the royal family, and the city built around it by copying the original layout of ruins: the castle, the castle walls, the inner city, the inner walls, the outer city, and the outer walls. In the hundreds of years since its founding as a country, Istut had only grown more culturally diverse, thanks in part to the climate of the country and its legacy of inner turmoil, and the capital reflected this.

The harsh sun in the winter could burn a person by reflecting off the serene and silent snow, leaving most Istutians darker-skinned than the citizens of the other northern countries. To block most of that burning light was as much a purpose of the grand stained-glass art, for which the capital was renowned, as was beautifying the city. Same with the specially mined white stones used in everything from cobbling the roads to supporting the many shops and homes, which despite their color actually maintained a warm-enough temperature to melt any snow that touched them, thus preventing accumulation. Special enchantments protected the outer city walls, ensuring that an ice layer formed solely on their external side to serve as additional protection. One would not be wrong by stating that the architecture of Istut was designed to filter out unwanted elements, an attitude reflective of the once exclusive culture Istut possessed during its founding. Like the refugees, exiles, and lost souls that had gathered together to forge a new life for themselves in this frozen north, so too had the nobility, long-descended from the strong mercenary groups of years past, become adept at dealing with undesirable situations -- and people.

The most recent former king of Istut, King Tomald, had been one such adept noble. Not only had he been the first king to have secretly served as an adventurer while Prince; further, King Tomald had been a progressive, if not slightly radical, figure with a great popularity among the common people and their allies. Through his effort, trade with the tribal clans of north Istut had progressed to a stable business, tensions on the border with the Country of Devils had been lowered with talks of new trade routes, the outer nobles of the farther territories of Istut had enjoyed greater political power in the capital, and the overall welfare of the people had increased.

However, the cost of these actions had been to lower the gains and profits of the traditional noble families by expanding the markets and adding small taxes on their gains as well as adding, in their subjective experience, the humiliation of having to deal with outer territory nobles, offering them respect as equals. This situation, in the end, proved to be intolerable to those hidden in the shadows.

The murder of King Tomald ten years ago had sent the nation of Istut into shock. Queen Nagri was forced to take the political stage as her eldest daughter was only 12, and the eldest son only 9. Her strength of will was unable to compete against the hidden shadows in the dark, and it was all she could do to manage the kingdom with the few allies she possessed in the capital while plots unfolded outside her ability to manage. Her failure to find a culprit for the murder of her husband was used against her politically, citing her own inability to get things done even as the nobles continued to publicly grieve for the king.

The following year, the Thrawnby Incident wracked the economic stability of the country, creating a divide between the Adventurer’s Guild and the Thieves’ Guild, as well as impacting the people’s trust in adventurers. To recover their losses, the Thrawnby Group had been forced to sell their properties and interests in Istut at a loss to various noble groups and to regroup in their home territory of Alevone. Not only that, but several key allies to the former king in the outer territories passed under questionable circumstances, sometimes with their entire families, with their replacements unable--or unwilling--to extend the same level of allegiance to the queen. Worst still, the queen was aware of her son being slowly turned against her, and against the ideals of his father, by those hired to teach him, and by those he considered friends. No matter how many teachers she fired, others’ darker ideas wormed their way into the prince. To what extent he soaked them in, she was unsure. The rift between mother and son had devolved into a cold war, as the relationship soured into the bare minimum of respect and communication, much to the distress of the princess caught in the middle.

Forced to contend with threats from all sides, the queen gradually began to tire as the years went by. Her friends slowly vanishing, her enemies laughing at her from the dark, she only persevered thanks to the support of her daughter, Dimitria, and the hope of seeing grandchildren one day. Still, the toll was evident to anyone who looked upon her, with her previously unmatched, ice-cold beauty having succumbed to age that was beyond her years. And thus, 10 years had passed since the death of King Tomald.

On this day, 3 months before the new year, Queen Nagri was sitting at her work desk, dealing with the official documents revolving around the preparation for her husband's deathday. She sighed and rubbed her forehead as unwanted memories flashed through her head. Every year, this occasion was always the worst.

A knock at the door caught her attention. “Enter,” she called out sternly, her face hardening into the icy façade for which she remained known.

The door to the study opened, and in walked a butler. The lady bowed at the waist and said, “Queen Nagri, the results of the investigation have been finalized.”

“Which one?” the queen asked with a slight frown.

“The incident in Graniton, my queen,” the butler explained. “Three months ago, the town leader was killed in an incident. Given the questionable circumstances of the incident, you ordered a full investigation by your private guard, assisted by the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“I see,” the queen nodded. “What are the results?”

At this, the butler dropped her façade for a moment, making a certain hand gesture before continuing in the same tone as before. “The head investigator has come herself to give the results. She is waiting outside for your summons.”

The queen, not reacting to the hand gesture, merely said, “Is that so? Then summon her in. The death of any noble, no matter their status, is surely something to which I must devote justice.”

The butler bowed and exited the room. A moment later, a stout woman dressed in leather armor entered and saluted the queen. The butler re-entered the room behind her and closed the door, taking the time to lock it. When the sound of the lock echoed, the three women all visibly relaxed.

“Finally, some peace,” Queen Nagri sighed, closing her eyes. When she reopened them, there was warmth on her face as a small smile appeared within the wrinkles of stress. “Fina, it is good of you to return.”

“It is good to be back, my queen,” saluted Fina with a smile. The leather-armor clad investigator, leader of the royal guard, continued. “The journey to Graniton was longer than expected. We had to deal with several groups attempting to hide the evidence, but luckily the incident was so public they were unable to do their job with the proper amount of subterfuge. We have compiled the complete report here for you to peruse.” At this, the head guard reached into her bag and pulled out a small, wrapped stack of paper. The queen took it and undid the wrappings, donning her spectacles and reading the report with an uncharacteristic eagerness. The head guard and butler waited patiently.

After a few minutes, the queen set down the papers and removed her spectacles. “Is everything in this report true?” she asked evenly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Fina nodded. “After interviewing witnesses to the event, and corroborating the evidence from the local Adventurer’s Guild, we have confirmed the authenticity of everything in this report.”

To the surprise of the two ladies, Queen Nagri suddenly began to chuckle, before progressing into a full-blown laugh.

“This is it!” Queen Nagri laughed, slapping the desk with both hands, startling the two ladies again. “Finally, they’ve made a mistake! The clues have been left out in the sun for all to see.”

“My queen?” the butler asked cautiously.

The queen abruptly stood and briskly walked over to a cabinet, opening it and removing something from within. She gazed at it longingly before taking a deep breath and returning it to the cabinet. She whirled around to face the two ladies, who immediately stood at attention.

“Spread the news at once,” Queen Nagri ordered. “A local lord wielding forbidden demonic mind control magic connected to the Thrawnby Incident and the Thieves’ Guild? I want a full public investigation into this incident at once! Summon the key witnesses, summon the Thrawnby Merchant Guild liaison to be notified, and ensure that everyone is aware of this averted tragedy. It is time to make the country aware of its darkness, and to extricate its fomenters like the parasites they are.”

“My queen, are you sure of doing this so publicly?” the butler asked, shocked. “You’ll surely rile them into taking drastic measures against you.”

Queen Nagri’s eyes flashed for a moment, but she continued. “If they were so sure of their own abilities, they would have murdered me alongside my husband years ago. The death of a monarch is serious, but not enough to draw the attention of our neighbors. This incident with demonic magic, however -- this will surely drag the attention of the entire North onto Istut and force those in the dark to move cautiously. If I were to pass with this information under public knowledge, our neighbors would have all the motive to storm in with their armies to weed out the threat of demonic control. They can’t afford the attention of the entire North, especially those scholars from Bosrel. They will be forced to give up some of their game pieces to deal with this. After 11 years, I can finally move against them, and I won’t give up this chance.”

Now, go and carry out my orders at once,” the queen ordered. “Fina, stay back for a moment. We will need to discuss trial security for this event. It wouldn’t do for us to lose evidence or witnesses.”

The two ladies nodded, and the butler unlocked the door and left, closing the door behind her.

After the queen and the head of the royal guards had waited a moment, Fina pulled out an orb from her bag and squeezed it, morphing it from black to white. The queen also removed an identical orb and in turn squeezed her own, initiating the identical color change. Fina nodded, and the earrings hidden under her hair glowed.

“Now no one can hear us, my queen,” Fina said.

Queen Nagri nodded, and sighed. “My husband’s relics still protect me to this day. Was anyone in the guard turned?”

“Two of my lieutenants,” Fina sighed, equally morose. “One by greed, the other by a similar magic. The report I gave you was a copy, with the original secretly changed yesterday by her. My queen, I never thought your caution against mind magic would be fulfilled like this; only in my darkest nightmares.”

“I’ll need a new butler,” the queen agreed. “A shame, she has served me for many years faithfully. I wonder when they got to her.”

“As I indicated in the report,” Fina responded. “It appears that it could only have occurred within the last few years, no more than five. Still, we will need to be more cautious now. Shall I send the news out to the other countries and organizations?”

“Yes,” the queen nodded. “It appears I can trust fewer allies. Watch yourself, Fina. The fight is beginning its second round.”

Fina nodded. “Will I need to return to Graniton, my Queen?”

“No, Fina,” Queen Nagri shook her head as she tapped her desk in thought. “Send one of your remaining trustworthy subordinates. She will need to coordinate protection and preparation for the key witnesses. Speaking of, tell me more about this boy in your report, Fina. The one called Marstin . . ..”

*   *   *

Sometime later, in a dark room only faintly lit by candles, an illusionary figure floating above the middle of a central rectangular table finished giving her report, bowed, and vanished.

“May the nine hells damn her and her allies!” a man roared, slamming the table in front of him with his fists. “To think she would pull a move like this.”

“Calm yourself! Anger will do us no good,” another voice came from across the table. “The sleeping ice dagger in the castle has been biding her time for this kind of mistake, and we cannot change these circumstances that have been delivered upon us.”

“To think such an event would occur at the crux of the plan,” a third voice mused darkly. “How could Ghevin fail at such a critical moment? Is there a third party at play here?”

“The investigation by our spies found nothing conclusive,” a fourth voice, raspy and weak, echoed through the room. “From what it appears, Ghevin followed our orders to the letter in covering our tracks and taking over Graniton, but he failed to control himself in regard to a personal grudge and overstayed his hand. A single variable ended his plan and exposed us to a fatal wound.”

“By variable, you mean an adventurer! A boy of no more than 15 years!” the first voice growled. “How incapable was Ghevin, unable to deal with a brat? I knew we should have sent someone to watch him. Once a servant, always a servant, and never a lord.”

“I disagree,” a fifth voice rang out calmly from the end of the table. The room’s temperature seemed to drop for the four others, who leaned back respectfully. “Rather than bemoaning Ghevin’s incompetence, I believe we should instead make note of the boy’s competence.”

“Why care about a single boy in the scheme of things?” the second voice questioned lazily. “He holds neither the political power, nor the physical strength, nor the economic control to interfere with us or the plan. If we should deal with him, it should be after we succeed and no longer need to worry about anything else.”

“There are several points to be made,” the fifth voice answered smoothly, with a tone of confidence and arrogance that could rival a monarch’s. “For one, he is directly tied both to the incident with the local Thieves’ Guild branch of Graniton we were dealing with, and to Ghevin’s downfall. He will surely be called to the capital to be one of Queen Nagri’s key witnesses in her public trial.”

“Second, I suspect the boy may know more than he shows,” the voice continued. “My personal . . . associates . . . have reported his life’s story to me. He is well adept with the darkness of civilization, having been raised in the streets and exposed to the cruelty of others. And yet he survived and has prospered despite his background. His physical abilities have been growing almost exponentially since joining the Adventurer’s Guild, to say nothing of his keen mind. Despite his age, he has been the instrumental force responsible for causing us more trouble in less than a single year than we’ve faced since our plan was implemented ten years ago. It would behoove us to consider what trouble he could make for us here in the capital once he arrives.”

“So, he’s a threat,” the third voice chuckled evilly. “That’s easy to deal with.”

“I disagree,” the fourth voice wheezed. “Someone with that level of capability should be brought over to our side instead. We have many persuasive means at our disposal, after all, not to mention our… alternative means of persuasion.”

“This brings me to my third point,” the fifth voice continued. “The boy cannot be killed.”

A pervading silence filled the room.

“What do you mean he can’t be killed?” the second voice asked, no longer lazy. “Does he have a backer? A third player to enter the game?”

“You can consider it so,” the fifth voice agreed amicably. “After all, that backer would be... me.”

Gasps and coughs rang out in the dark room.

“A bastard?” the first voice asked cautiously.

“We are connected by blood, but not in that way,” the fifth voice chuckled. “Tell me, who here remembers the Hardgrove family?”

No one answered.

“Very few do, and only by chance or ability.” the fifth voice continued. “They were the last noble family we… took care of, oh about 7 or 8 years now, give or take. Even I have a hard time remembering if I’m not attentive. Gile Hardgrove was the Southern lord who resided in Graniton, and Ghevin Drestice was his butler.”

“How could that be?” the first voice asked, bewildered. “You and your associates took action personally back then, and with no other survivors among the other families.”

“How is this connected with our memory loss?” the third voice asked cautiously. “And is this related to why you haven’t acted in so long, causing delays to the plan? Was this the after-effect of that magic?”

“Ghevin Drestice was his servant?” the fourth raspy voice considered. “Then this would explain why our intelligence recorded him as a servant but not the identity of his former master. This mystery had been plaguing me for some time.”

“The magic I acquired from my associates is a nasty little spell, perfect for our needs back then,” the fifth voice sighed. “It ensures the complete destruction of the target and family, and it even obscures their existence from others until the deed is complete, preventing them from acquiring help in time. The perfect assassination weapon -- or so I thought.”

“Ever since that day, I have been bound,” the fifth voice suddenly turned dark, and hate filled. “My magic is being constantly drained from my body into the orb to power this curse, this blasted blood curse, and I had no idea why, nor whom I was targeting. For years, I have been unable to advance our collective plan because of this, forcing us into alternative methods and wasting time. Imagine my surprise to learn from my associates that the cause of our greatest trouble, was also the source of my own greatest trouble.”

“And yet, you say the boy must not be killed?” the raspy voice asked.

The source of the fifth voice took a few calming breaths before continuing. “Yes, he cannot be touched, especially when our plan is not yet in full play. My associates have informed me that the curse had become too great after years of draining my, and their own, respective magic. It encompasses the entire nation of Istut now, affecting every individual. Can you imagine what would happen if suddenly, this curse ended?”

“Everyone would remember a dead family. So what?” the first voice grumbled. “I sometimes remember things I’ve forgotten and don’t pay it much mind.”

“Not only would they remember, but they would also be shocked into it,” the fifth voice said bitterly. “This wouldn’t come as a normal memory recollection, but as a sharp jolt of pain and focus directed specifically at the existence of the family. My associates have informed me by their understanding of the infectious nature of the curse, that this shock would not only release the fog on those memories, but would also impact the pawns we have under control. The loss of one curse would, thus, disrupt or even dispel the other curses spawned from the same magic, my and my associates' magic.”

“That would destroy everything,” the second voice observed lazily once more. “What’s worse, even if we don’t make a move, it’s possible others might try to kill the boy, to say nothing of the dangers of his current profession.”

“Exactly,” the fifth voice agreed. “As such, we need to treat this boy, Marstin Hardgrove, as the threat he is. Touching him now would show our hand to the Queen; I have no doubt there are royal guards protecting him in secret as we speak. Since she’s keeping him alive, then let her do so for us. Given the public nature of the trial, it will take at least 3 months for the delegates of other countries to arrive here, and he’ll be summoned. We make our move then.”

“And what move will that be?” the third voice asked in anticipation.

A tapping sound on the table echoed.

“If he will not join us, then we go with an alternative. After all, death is not the worst fate one can have.”

Chapter 1

“Attack, my minions! Remove these foul invaders from my dungeon!” Progen shouted to no one in particular, even as one of his roaming immune cell groups found an infection site.

Thousands of harmful bacteria were propagating in the epithelial cell walls of the lungs, after somehow slipping through the gamut of Suspension and Localized Compression traps the dungeon crystal had dotted throughout the air passages inside of his host. While his static defenses – accompanied by the veritable hordes of immune cells he had created over the last few months – were quite versatile and were able to eliminate more than 95% of the pathogens trying to invade from outside, a few inevitably managed to get through. Left alone for long enough, they would multiply, creating an infection that Progen and the body’s natural immune system would have to eliminate.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” His trio of Mega Newts from his scouting group fell upon the mass of bacterial cells with an inaudible *thwomp*, absorbing within seconds dozens of the common single-flagellum bacteria that had populated the infection site. His half-dozen Spawners, still equipped with the necessary antibodies from the last few clean-ups, used the constant changes in flow and tissue expansion/contraction to release their projectiles into the fumbling pathogens, puncturing another 50 or so in the process. In addition, a dozen Veteran Killers descended upon the site around its perimeter and went to work, spinning rapidly with their deadly, spiked protrusions, which ground up the much-smaller bacteria with rapid efficiency.

Then came the army of Newts.

Just under 300 Newts – Progen had lost a few from this group over the last day, which he needed to replace at some point – swarmed over the bacteria, his main force slamming into the pathogens like a contained explosion. The infection cells, now aware of the threat, tried to either fight back or flee, but were unsuccessful at either. The Veteran Killer, accompanied by the precise firing of antibodies by the Spawners, hunted down those bacteria trying to flee around the perimeter, and the camouflaging capsules with which the dungeon crystal had coated each of his immune cells were strong enough to protect his forces from all but the most determined attacks. One Newt, its cell stuffed to the brim with multiple bacteria, *popped* under the assault by multiple flagellum, but that was the only casualty on Progen’s side.

In less than a minute, the infection site was completely eradicated, and the pair of Cleaners that accompanied the scouting group went to work, absorbing shredded cell components and inactivated bacteria, while the dungeon crystal spent a miniscule amount of mana – barely a point’s worth – to repair the damage done to the epithelial cell wall by the bacteria…and by the overzealousness of his Veteran Killers, of course. They tended to shred everything in their path, which frequently included healthy cells, but their efficiency and deadliness was worth the extra damage that needed to be repaired after every battle.

Though, to be fair, what just occurred could barely be considered a battle. The same thing happened many times every day, throughout various bodily systems, and rarely were there more than just minor skirmishes in which Progen’s forces were absolutely devastating the pathogens. Even in the cases where the host’s immune system needed to participate, especially in cases where there were some minor injuries that produced an infusion of external threats, the enhanced speed, durability, and tactics shown by millions of the body’s immune cells proved that there was very little chance of anything gaining a foothold for long. The crystal’s influence over the system allowed them to adapt and strengthen themselves through the liberal infusion of mana he provided, and it proved to be a great boon.

It was too easy at this point to wipe out any threats – and therein was the problem.

Progen turned his attention up above the lungs and stared at the small access point in the blood-brain barrier for the 50,000th time (give or take a few thousand), before moving his concentration away in frustration.

“There has to be a way through!”

While there is undoubtedly a solution, as I’ve told you before, I haven’t yet deduced the most prudent means of accomplishing your objective.

The dungeon crystal ignored Stemmy, the cluster of interneuron cells acting as his assistant in controlling the various systems in the massive multi-cellular organism also known as Marstin Hardgrove, like he had every time Progen had railed against the unfairness of the situation. This body was his dungeon, after all, but there was still something blocking him from taking full control of it. The thought of something else invading his domain, restricting his access to what he considered rightfully his, was anathema to his nature.

Thinking back on when the body he was currently inhabiting foolishly decided to visit the dominion of another crystal (which nearly turned into a catastrophe), he could certainly understand the anger and rage the other crystal had displayed at Progen’s presence in its dungeon. He wanted to reach up through the barrier and wipe out the malevolent entity that was hiding up in the body’s brain, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Though, from the memories that Stemmy inherited from Chance, I suppose I should call it a “Blood Curse” rather than a malevolent entity. Memories of that frightening mine-dungeon experience also made him remember his conversation with Stemmy regarding his enemy.

It had taken a few days to fully recover from the attack of the Parasyte, as well as repairing the stress and strain that Marstin had put his body through afterwards, which allowed Progen to learn a little bit more of what he was up against. Not that it seemed to make a bit of difference at that point.

*   *   *

Well, it turns out that your “malevolent entity” isn’t quite what you thought it was. Tell me, have you ever heard of a Blood Curse?

Progen hadn’t, which he told the brand-new cluster of interneuron cells that seemed to have much more of a personality than before.

From the information I can parse together, this Blood Curse originated from a very specific – and very powerful – spell that is designed to wipe out any and all members of a family related by blood or close societal connections such as marriage. It is also unfailingly deadly, killing most of those affected by the Curse within a few minutes, or potentially up to an hour if their resilience is unnaturally high or if extreme healing measures are taken to prolong life. Regardless, the Blood Curse is always deadly, with little to no recourse to those affected.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Progen responded with confusion. “I don’t know how long this body had been under the influence of the Blood Curse before I arrived, but it didn’t appear to be dying within minutes or even an hour. Yes, it was under attack by bacteria and was severely malnourished – which even I could see would lead to death if I hadn’t come and started making some changes – but it didn’t seem like it would be succumbing specifically to this entity anytime soon.”

Exactly. From what information Chance was able to absorb directly from the Blood Curse before the cancer cell was destroyed, not even this “entity” knew exactly why it was unsuccessful. From what I’m able to tell, the Blood Curse was on its way to killing the host, but something interrupted the process and trapped it within the brain, diminishing its power significantly. It was only recently that it suddenly had enough energy to continue its predetermined course of action.

“Recently?” That almost sounded like…. “As in, when my crystal arrived?”

While I can’t confirm that for a fact, there is a high probability that you are correct.

“Why would that make a difference?”

I have a theory, but it isn’t one that I can specifically confirm.

“Like what?”

Based on its reaction to you, as well as the actions it has taken to destroy this body, I believe that the Blood Curse has been turned into a dormant pseudo-dungeon crystal.

That wasn’t what Progen had been expecting. “Wait—what?!”

I believe that the powerful energy had been condensed and contained to such a fine point that a micro-crystal was formed, sustained by the body’s natural mana generation. With its initial attack stymied by whatever had countered it in the first place, it was unable to continue its attack, lying mostly dormant inside of the brain for some time. Its mere presence was probably enough to make the host become underdeveloped and susceptible to injury and illness, but there were no direct attacks like we’ve seen.

“And that changed when I arrived? Why?”

Your arrival woke it up, as you were a direct threat to its existence. With its new awareness, the quasi-intelligence driven by the need to complete its objective of killing the host started using the only things it could uniquely influence: pathogens of all different types. I’m not exactly sure why this is, but that seems to fit with what happened here.

Progen was silent for a few minutes as he processed everything he was being told. While Stemmy professed not to know if all of that was entirely true to the exact nature of what happened, it sounded entirely plausible to the dungeon crystal now that he had heard it. However, there were a few things that didn’t make sense.

“Shouldn’t healing potions or spells, not to mention blessings from Gods and Goddesses, be able to eliminate this Curse? Not only that, but why isn’t this type of thing more common?”

That’s the devious nature of this Curse, unfortunately; it cannot be healed or cured by normal or divine means. The Blood Curse is so powerful that it is fundamentally infused within the very structure of the host, which also answers your second question. The strength of an individual or group of individuals needed to cast this type of spell would have to be so great that it is doubtful there are more than a handful of people in the world that can accomplish it. Even then, the energy of this individual or group would be tied to the Blood Curse until it ran its course entirely.

“Then, how—?”

I wouldn’t have thought it possible until just recently.

Progen caught on immediately. “The corrupted dungeon crystal!” he shouted triumphantly. He remembered when the crystal that was being used to influence the people around his host, and how Marstin had destroyed it, revealing the presence of a demon inside. “If you’re correct, then it’s quite possible that a dungeon crystal would have more than enough mana to accomplish something like that. But that crystal was destroyed; doesn’t that mean the Blood Curse should be destroyed, as well?”

Only if that were the one that had been used in creating the Curse in the first place.

The implication was staggering. “There’s…more than one? Who would be so cruel as to do that to multiple dungeon crystals? Don’t they know how torturous that would be to those inhabiting them?”

It is unlikely that they knew or even cared if they did.

Based on how the last one had been used – to spread its influence in matters of mind-control – Progen had to agree. Something about the conversation occurred to him, though, and it worried the dungeon crystal.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but if I’m understanding you correctly, this Blood Curse can’t be gotten rid of through normal means; does that also include…me?”

Unfortunately, without more information, that would be my assessment. No matter what you do, you cannot completely destroy this Curse; the best you might be able to do is to isolate it somewhere where it cannot cause any more problems.

“Well then, how can I destroy it?” Progen didn’t want to just trap it away somewhere – he wanted to get rid of it entirely. There was no way he would feel comfortable keeping such a powerful entity alive, especially if it were caged inside of his dungeon; one slip up or moment of inattention could result in it getting free and causing all sorts of havoc he couldn’t even imagine.

There are only two methods of getting the Curse to disappear from the body. One of them I would not recommend, as it would mean that it had succeeded; upon the death of the host, the Blood Curse would’ve fulfilled its purpose and would dissipate shortly thereafter. I think I had mentioned the other method earlier, in regards to how this Curse was created in the first place.

“Destroying the corrupted dungeon crystal that powered the spell?”

That would likely help facilitate the Blood Curse’s destruction; but eliminating the individual or group of individuals that had cast the Curse would certainly do it.

“How are we supposed to do that?”

Stemmy was uncharacteristically silent for a length of time before responding. There is not enough information available to accurately offer a course of action.

“Great, thanks.”

That conversation led to an endeavor to reach the brain through the hole that Chance and its cancer cells had managed to make in the blood-brain barrier. Progen found the access point almost immediately, wide open where the cluster of cancer cells had fallen apart once any energy feeding them was removed by the Blood Curse. His intention was to strike as soon as possible, locating the source of the malevolent entity and capturing it, isolating it someplace where it could be contained and controlled as Stemmy had mentioned. It wasn’t as good of a solution as being able to destroy it outright, but without the means to do that, it was the next-best alternative.

Except, when he tried to extend his influence up through the opening left by Chance, he slammed up against another barrier. “What is this?!” Progen rapidly moved his focus back, his progress thoroughly and inexorably blocked. Looking around his systems that he had full control over, he ranged it over the entire cranial portion of his host, finding that most if not all of the foreign influence that had prevented him from accessing the outer portions was gone. There was no longer anything keeping him from spreading throughout the skeletal structure of Marstin’s head, but as soon as he tried to pass through it, he was blocked by the same sort of barrier that had prevented him from moving through the blood-brain hole.

I believe the Blood Curse has formed this barrier as a means of self-defense. Detecting its vulnerability, it has sealed all potential openings to its location, powered by what energy it has left to utilize.

“For how long? And why didn’t it do this before?”

Time length is unknown; could be a few days, or it could last for decades. As for why it didn’t do this before, the answer should be obvious.

“What do you mean—oh.” Looking at the strong barrier again, he realized that what had been blocking him from accessing the head of his host before was a mixture of biological means and the influence of the Blood Curse; seeing the new barrier and really focusing on it, he realized that it was sort of glowing to his crystal’s vision, meaning that it was powered by the Curse’s energy. It was an impenetrable barrier not just for Progen – but for the Curse as well.

Exactly. It no longer has the ability to influence anything throughout the body, including the nervous system below the brain stem.

That was a relief, but that still left it up there able to cause trouble. “One last question: Why hasn’t it done anything nefarious to the brain? I would think that would be the easiest place to access and could cause death near-instantly.”

From the information Chance sent, which was unfortunately little in this regard, there is something inherent in the brain that prevents it from causing it harm. What that is, I’m not exactly sure; all I can say is that the normal method of the Blood Curse killing its targets is through a rapidly devastating and cascading pathogen attack, as well as the liquidation of the internal organs through the swift destruction of epithelial cells – not through attacking the brain and central nervous system.

“So…you’re saying that it is stuck up there, without the ability to do anything, but could probably break out at any time? Additionally, it is preventing my only access to full control of this body, making my ultimate goal of controlling this host as my dungeon no more than a useless fantasy?” he asked in anger.

Essentially, yes.

“Wonderful.”

That certainly wasn’t what he wanted to hear. At every turn, it seemed as if something else was standing in the way of his goal. It was extremely disappointing, but he forced himself to look at the positives: He was alive, Stemmy had just received a much-needed upgrade, and the malevolent entity was essentially powerless while it hid in the brain, unable to mess with the rest of the body.

It wasn’t much, but he’d take it.

*  *  *

Granted, just because he couldn’t currently get inside of the brain to finally take care of his little Blood Curse problem, that didn’t mean he had given up trying. Progen periodically checked for any type of weakening of the new barrier or any other noticeable changes he could take advantage of; unfortunately, nothing seemed to change for better or worse.

That wasn’t so for the rest of the body, however. After the initial recovery after the Parasyte and Marstin’s own adventure with a corrupted dungeon crystal, Progen had spent his time strengthening his influence throughout the skeletal and muscular systems, as well as every portion of the nervous system outside of the brain itself. With the immune system back up to speed after a week or so, external pathogens invading the body were barely even a threat anymore, especially when his own roving bands of immune cell groups participated in eliminating any that decided to visit.

That was what led him to become a bit exasperated with the whole process – it was too easy now. The normal behavior of the viruses and bacteria that entered through critical control points were almost pathetic in comparison to the mutated and out-of-control minions created and directed by the Blood Curse. For the first time since he had arrived in Marstin’s body, he was finally able to see how the immune system was supposed to work naturally with the tools it had: Pathogens that managed to create infectious sites were quickly identified by the body’s Reporters, and depending on the severity, a mass of Newts, Spawners, and/or Killers would respond, with Cleaners there for support and to recycle any destroyed material – just with greater numbers than his own roving bands of scouting immune cell groups.

To be fair, the denizens of the body’s immune system, just by having Progen’s influence over them, were much faster to react, had more-durable cell walls, and had adopted some of the tactics that the dungeon crystal had created to combat the tougher Insidious Virus and bacteria mutations. Although it was overkill for the most part, he nevertheless saw how they could normally protect the body under ideal circumstances; he no longer considered the immune cells as inept as he thought they were when he first encountered them. Naturally, his own directed immune cells groups were even more effective, but that was only to be expected.

It was only when he started consolidating his influence over the rest of the systems to which he had access (which still excluded the Brain) that Progen could finally see some hope for the future.

Chapter 2

Up to that point, it had seemed to the ambitious dungeon crystal that he had basically influenced every system in the host body that was possible; however, that wasn’t necessarily the case. The digestive, respiratory, immune (lymphatic), circulatory, gustatory, muscular, and skeletal systems, along with a large portion of the nervous system were now part of the dungeon crystal’s domain, and all but the last was nominally under his control.

There are more systems for you to influence. They weren’t as necessary for you to gain a bit of control over before, but now that you have the ability and time, you might as well incorporate them.

Fortunately, most of those systems tied into what he had already spread his influence through – all it took was adding a little more to complete the set. For the excretory system, which worked a lot in conjunction with the digestive system, Progen spread his mana through the kidneys and the urinary bladder, which was easy enough to accomplish. Along the same area of the body, the reproductive system was also brought into the fold; though just like the excretory system, it didn’t really benefit him all that much at the moment.

The reproductive system was also tied into the endocrine system, which dealt with many types of hormones, and was something that he had previously dealt with – at least partially – in the past. The adrenal glands, for instance, were located in the same general area as the intestines; they had provided adrenaline hormones in times of the body’s need, and Progen had enhanced them with his mana. The pancreas was something that he had already influenced during his foray through the immune system, located near the stomach, which just left the thyroid gland near the body’s throat.

Or so he thought.

One of his random checks of the barrier by his roaming Reporters managed to locate something near the bottom of the brain, stuck out from underside of the brain stem and all of the associated components. Once Progen told the interneuron cell cluster about the small, sac-like gland, Stemmy intimated that it might end up being extremely important.

What you describe sounds as if the pituitary gland is caught outside of the new barrier blocking you from the brain and brainstem. If you can spread your influence through the gland, that might tip you over the necessary 90% to gain nominal control over the endocrine system. Unfortunately, it is cut off from any nervous system connections that lead to my interneuron cluster, as they are routed through the brain, so my ability to interact with it will be limited.

“Why does this little thing matter, anyway?” Progen asked, confused. “I mean, it’ll be great to have control over another system, but this gland doesn’t seem all that important to me.” Fortunately, it was easy enough to extend his mana to influence the small gland, and he knew the instant when it finished; the ability to fully access the rest of the endocrine system, seeing inside without having to resort to Reporters, and being able to produce immune cells in those areas immediately was extremely beneficial.

The pituitary gland – despite its small size – is commonly considered the “master gland” when it comes to hormones in the body. It produces and secretes hormones that control many of the body’s vital organs, as well as the other glands in the endocrine system. From brain health, including minimizing pain through endorphins, to blood pressure maintained by the thyroid, and even reproductive system management and maturation, the pituitary gland has its hands in nearly every function in the body in some way.

“Sounds like you’re a huge gland fan,” Progen said sarcastically, “but, again, why does that even matter to me?”

Because while all of those others are essential to the normal operation of the body, there is one hormone that could have a tremendous impact on preserving the life of this host: the growth hormone.

Progen knew that the body he was trying to take control of was rather small and had been malnourished for much of Marstin’s life, at least from what he could perceive from the inside and clues that Stemmy was able to deduce from listening and observing outside of the body. The reasons behind this were in part because of this Blood Curse being in the body, its very presence hindering positive body development; for the larger part, though, it was because of the lack of nutrients when it was in the development stages of life.

“Are you saying we can use these hormones to make this body, Marstin, bigger?”

Not just bigger, but stronger. The growth hormone affects both bones and muscles, meaning that the host can become taller, wider, and more muscular to maintain a larger stature. With your mana, you can likely also affect the bone structure and muscle mass while it is expanding, to make it more resilient – even more than you can do right now through temporary means.

That sounded like a great way to ensure the host body’s survival, much more than what Progen could do right now. All of his efforts to enhance just about anything throughout the body were relatively minor, or else temporary. For instance, while his influence throughout the immune system was having an impact on the body’s natural immune cells, allowing them to adapt to changes and employ tactics, making them permanently levitate like his own forces or have the body create Mega Newts (for example) was impossible. When he infused his mana into the bones or muscles to which he now had easy access, the result was a powerful increase in their strength or elasticity – but it was only temporary, and the infusion could have some negative side-effects that could end up harming the body afterwards.

Something permanent could change everything, however.

Again, right now there is no way for me to access the pituitary gland, meaning that I cannot even begin to manipulate the growth hormones. If you finally gain access to the brain, then I can see about enhancing this host in ways that will further ensure its survival.

“When, not if, Stemmy,” Progen corrected the cluster of interneuron cells. “When I gain access to the brain, a lot of things will change.”

With every other system to which he had access now influenced with his mana, Progen turned to the most difficult bodily system that he had encountered to date: the integumentary system – otherwise known as skin, hair, and nails. While the muscular system actually took up more area than the skin did in terms of sheer volume, the fact that the skin was essentially all one piece was what made it more difficult.

While some may or may not consider the skin to be the body’s largest organ, at least externally, it certainly is the largest in terms of surface area. There are many layers that make up what the skin is composed of, and unlike many of the other organs in the body, you will need to infuse one layer at a time with your mana.

“What? Why?” That just seemed ridiculous.

Because each layer, starting with the subcutaneous tissue atop the muscle you already have influence over, will be needed to build upon your existing spread of influence. If you were to influence it all at once, you would risk the potential for the uneven spread of your mana throughout the entire integumentary system.

“You aren’t making this any easier, Stemmy.”

That isn’t my job, Progen.

The cluster of interneuron cells, while gaining access to new information and a personality unlike before, now seemed to have some attitude that went along with it. Ignoring the snapback, as the dungeon crystal could tell that some of his stress from not being able to infiltrate the brain was rubbing off on Stemmy, Progen started his influence of the skin.

The subcutaneous tissue was first, just above the muscle he had already influenced underneath that layer. Inside that layer were the majority of the blood vessels from the circulatory system, along with the main nerve pathways from the nervous system. The dungeon crystal lost track of the days it took to completely coat the entire layer with his mana, mainly because it was hard to keep it contained to just that singular layer when he felt that it would be much easier to just do it all. After a while, though, Progen was able to see for himself why it was better to do it layer by layer, because as he finished the subcutaneous layer, he felt it *snap* into place, giving him a foundation to build upon.

“That’s a strange feeling, Stemmy. It almost feels like….” He couldn’t really finish the statement, because he wasn’t really sure.

Like your dungeon is suddenly safer?

“Exactly! How did you know?”

Because this is the first time you’ve encapsulated your entire dungeon. Before, the different systems you spread your influence through were like a collection of random rooms floating in a void; now, though, you’ve finally brought them all together as one whole. I would liken it to finally finding a location in which to place your scattered rooms, such as the mountain where you were originally planning on building your dungeon.

“Huh. Makes a lot of sense.” Progen had no idea that something as simple as skin could provide so much…comfort.

His progress on the integumentary system over the next few months was sporadic as there seemed to be no end of things the dungeon crystal needed to concentrate on. Not necessarily pathogens this time, but from a sudden surge of his host wanting to use its natural mana to enhance its body or use it externally, typically by repeating the same infusion of a knife as had been done when destroying the demon-infested dungeon crystal. Usually, these applications were used to complete quests for the Adventurer’s Guild, with occasional minor injuries as a result – but it wasn’t always minor.

Mainly because Marstin had no idea what he was doing. Sometimes Progen’s host body would want to accomplish something with the natural mana inside of it that would result in serious damage, incapacitating the whole body for hours or days afterwards. Because of Marstin’s fumbling attempts at utilizing mana without a clue as to how it should be done, the dungeon crystal was forced to help guide the mana based on its intent – which wasn’t always the best for his body’s health.

Regardless of having to take the time to direct the mana to accomplish what Progen and Stemmy deduced that Marstin wanted to do, as well as cleaning up the aftermath of the mana expenditure and injuries, Progen was able to get through the reticular and papillary layers in the dermis, which contained all of the nerve endings, as well as the sweat and hair follicle ducts that extended to the surface.

Fortunately, the epidermis – the final layer of the skin at the surface – all counted as one layer, so it was easy enough to make some headway on. It still took a few weeks, especially when he added in nails and hair follicles, which were more numerous than Progen expected – and located all over the body. Strangely enough, this took the longest because they weren’t quite the same as the rest of the host; namely, the hairs were composed of dead cells, which took longer for his mana to spread through. For a normal dungeon, non-living material was easy to spread influence through, as their dungeons were typically made of stone and dirt, whereas living material such as plants and other smaller bio-organisms took a little bit longer; the opposite seemed to be the case for Progen.

Finally, approximately three months after the Blood Curse had locked away all access to the brain, Progen was able to spread his influence through every single cell accessible to him. Every system other than the central nervous system was now under his nominal control. With the completed influencing, it didn’t seem as though there was anything left to do.

Fortunately, all of his efforts were rewarded.

Chapter 3

“I did it, Stemmy!”

Enfolding the rest of the body, including the integumentary system, into his influence and control finally got Progen the upgrade he needed. Not only was it a significant increase in the amount of mana he could hold at one time and the rate of passive mana regeneration, but his available options of what he could produce expanded as well.

Immune Cells Available

Available Mana: 9500/10000

Tier 1

Dendritic Cell (Reporters) – 2 Mana

Neutrophil Cell (Newts) – 5 Mana

B Cell (Spawners) – 25 Mana

Mutation 1 (Seekers) – 150 Mana

Neutrophil+1 (Mega Newts) Stage 1 Evolution Mutation – 500 Mana

(Potential Mutation)

Tier 2

Eosinophils (Hunters) – 25 Mana

Naïve T Cells (Novice Killers) – 50 Mana

Memory B Cells (Historians) – 100 Mana

Mutation 1 (Assassin) – 75 Mana

Mutation 2 (Shadow Hunters) – 3 Mana

Eosiniphil+9 Stage 9 Evolution Mutation – 750,000 Mana

Tier 3

Regulatory T Cells (Regulators) – 50 Mana

Macrophages (Cleaners) – 150 Mana

Memory T Cells (Veteran Killers) – 200 Mana

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

Tier 4

NK Cells (Natural Killers) – 400 Mana

Custom Myeloid Progenitor – 3000 Mana

Custom Lymphoid Progenitor – 3000 Mana

Mutation 1 (Ankle-biter) – 50 Mana

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

Tier 5

Helper T Cells (Commanders) – 800 Mana

Arcanaphils – 1000 Mana

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

(Potential Mutation)

Production Options Available (New)

Available Mana: 9500/10000

Tier 1

Stem Cell – 10 Mana

Immune Cells – Unlocked

Hormones – Unlocked

Foreign Bacteria Cluster 1 – 10 Mana

Foreign Bacteria Cluster 2 – 15 Mana

Gut Bacteria Cluster 1 – 5 Mana

Gut Bacteria Cluster 2 – 5 Mana

Gut Bacteria Cluster 3 – 5 Mana

Gut Bacteria Cluster 4 – 5 Mana

Bacterial Mutation Cluster (Viral Whip) – 100 Mana

Insidious Virus Virion Cluster – 1 Mana

Multi-cellular Parasyte Larva – 600 Mana

First, Progen now had 10,000 mana at his disposal! That would certainly help if he had any more life-threatening injuries to fix, as a larger initial quantity would allow him to quickly react and fix wounds before they could cause too many problems. Major injuries like broken bones would still take a while if using his mana alone, but quick reactionary responses might prevent a horrific injury from being fatal. Of course, if Marstin got his head chopped off, there really wasn’t much that could be done about that. “I wonder if I could regrow other limbs, though?” It was just an idle thought as he perused his other options.

I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t. When you heal with your mana, you just fix the cells that are preprogrammed to make up each section of the body, using the information that is already part of the vast system as a whole. Not only that, but since you have spread your mana throughout basically every part of the body, that information is inherently part of your crystal now; it would be just like resetting a room in your dungeon that was destroyed by Adventurers – though on a much more complicated scale. Granted, it would likely take weeks to regrow it from nothing but a stump, even with your new mana regeneration, but it could be done.

“That’s a very…unique way to look at it, I suppose.” After hearing what Stemmy mentioned, Progen searched inside of his crystal while looking at one of the fingers on Marstin’s right hand. It didn’t take him long to realize that he could theoretically recreate the entire finger if he wanted to, though it would have to be attached to the rest of the body in order to work – it wouldn’t function otherwise. A brief thought that he might be able to recreate an entire, separate body was quickly dashed when something told him he wouldn’t be able to recreate it outside of his influence. Just like he couldn’t create a whole other mountain if he had made a dungeon within one of them, he couldn’t create another body. Unfortunate.

What was fortunate, however, was the appearance of the next tier in his immune cell options, as well as Tier 4 in his available traps, but he ignored those for the moment – because they weren’t really needed as much as everything else. Tier 5 included something that he’d seen before in the body’s immune system, but hadn’t actually seen it actively combat foreign pathogens: the Helper T Cell, otherwise described to him as something of a Commander.

Helper T Cells are key members of the immune system, playing a central role from the back line of defenders. They are the ones that trigger and organize immune responses to specific infection sites in the body.

“So...they’re like the leaders of the immune system?”

In a way, I guess you could say that. They use information gained from other cells such as the Dendritic Cells (otherwise known to you as your Reporters) to aggregate other immune cells where they are needed.

Progen figured that made sense – something had to give orders to the other immune cells in the body, after all. As for the dungeon crystal, he essentially served that function with help from Stemmy, utilizing information he gained from his own perusal of the body and the information gained from his reporters to direct his forces to attack specific target sites. But if there were a way to include one of these with all of his assembled scouting groups….

He made one immediately near one of his larger groups of immune cells in the lungs, and he had to admit that he wasn’t overly impressed at first. About the size of one of his Novice Killer cells, the Commander looked like a large blob with a giant nucleus inside of it, though Progen could also see hundreds of tiny specks inside of the cell that reminded him of the antibodies inside of one of his Spawners. Reserving his final judgement until he saw it in action, he followed the group as it made a circuit of the lung tissue, following the general route that Progen had instructed it to navigate.

Eventually, one of the Reporters identified a small infection of bacteria, which was communicated back to Progen. Normally, it was at this time that he would step in and direct his forces to attack and destroy whatever was found, taking a few seconds of his focus to ensure that everything was going to happen the way it was supposed to. This time, though, he did nothing but watch.

The Reporter zoomed back up to the levitating force of immune cells, zipping straight up to the Commander, where it seemed to extend one of its spiky arms into the side of the larger cell. Some sort of chemical inside of the Reporter was sent through the connection before it broke off – and then a lot of things all seemed to happen at once. The few Historians he had in the group briefly connected to the Commander, breaking off and moving towards the Killers and Spawners, imparting the necessary information to the soon-to-be-attacking cells. Meanwhile, the Commander drifted forward toward the infection site and essentially spewed thousands of tiny molecules onto the bacteria down below.

The molecules didn’t seem to do anything by themselves other than coat the unsuspecting bacteria, doing absolutely no harm in the process. However, the tiny molecules certainly did something to Progen’s immune forces. Like a raw hunk of meat tossed into a room of ravenous wolves, the forces under his command fell upon the molecule-covered bacteria as though they were starving and couldn’t get enough to eat. Thankfully, they used the same sort of tactics that Progen would’ve instructed them to use, as if they had somehow instinctively learned the proper way to wage war against foreign pathogens, and the site was eradicated in a matter of minutes.

All without any input from Progen.

“That certainly makes my job a whole lot easier,” he remarked, watching the Cleaners finish their job of cleaning up the debris left over from the brief battle, before they all moved on and started scouting again. “I’m going to have to make one of these for all of my cell groups, so that I don’t have to worry about them shifting my focus just so they can eradicate these easy infection sites.”

It will certainly help to automate their actions. That way you can focus on other important matters.

“Like what? Breaking into the brain? Because, I hate to tell you, it appears as if that isn’t happening anytime soon.”

I haven’t stopped seeking a solution to the problem. We will figure it out eventually.

“I hope so, Stemmy. I hope so.” Going back to his available immune cells, Progen saw another one that became available at the same time as the Commander, but it was something he hadn’t seen or heard of before. “Hey, what’s an Arcanaphil?” It was expensive, whatever it was, at 1,000 mana – so it had to be good.

Arcanaphil? That is something that I have no knowledge of, I’m afraid.

“Something you don’t know about? That seems almost impossible; you seem to know about everything else.”

My knowledge isn’t infinite, but based on books that my previous incarnation as Vitertroll had read and inferred.

“You…remember that?” Progen felt slightly bad about consuming the Dungeon Pixie when his crystal had been in its infancy and was wanting to eat just about everything. It all worked out in the end, though—right? he thought.

I do, though there is no animosity inherent in those memories. My new existence as Stemmy is actually preferable to my situation as a Pixie, at least as far as my recollection serves.

“That’s a relief,” he said, thankful that the cluster of interneuron cells seemingly wasn’t vengeful now that it had the ability to really process those memories. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I did that to you.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Progen. In reality, it was my blind eagerness to become your Dungeon Pixie through a contract, coupled with my inability to remember the correct way to go about said contract, that led to my demise. If anything, it was my fault for getting close to a newborn crystal without taking precautions – which I knew about, but had let slip my mind in my desire to join with you.

To be fair, Progen only barely remembered that time, as all he could really recall was how hungry he had been after being newly created. Regardless, he now knew that he was wrong in what he had done, even if he didn’t realize it at the time, and his actions were likely what had led him to where he was today – trapped inside the body of a human male. In hindsight, maybe this was actually the best result I could’ve asked for. Thinking about the rarely changing existence of a normal dungeon and how volatile his current location was, he was pretty sure he would’ve been quite bored most of the time.

Since Stemmy didn’t know about the Arcanaphil, Progen went ahead and cautiously created one above the stomach, just in case it proved to be a hazard rather than something beneficial; that way it would drop down into the acid below and be destroyed. When he spent the 1,000 mana required, he was expecting something large, perhaps much larger than even his Mega Newt. When it appeared, however, it was completely opposite of his expectations.

Smaller than one of his normal Newts and shaped like a perfect cube, with precise edges unlike anything Progen had seen inside of the body to that point, the Arcanaphil glowed with a dim yellow light that seemed to illuminate it from within. Its transparent nature allowed the dungeon crystal to look inside of his new cell’s form, only to see that instead of a single nucleus or small cluster of nuclei, there were 12 pyramidal-shaped nuclei with three edges per side rather than four. Each of these nuclei were stuck together at a central point, creating a 12-pointed polyhedral that looked remarkably like a three-dimensional star.

To put it bluntly, it was as unnatural to see in the human body that Progen inhabited as it would be seeing a shark flying through the air. Speaking of flying through the air, the Arcanaphil didn’t drop into the acid of the stomach below like he expected, but instead seemed to float in the middle of the stomach void without falling – as if it had some sort of natural levitation.

“What in all of the gods is that?!”

Unknown. This is not something that the immune system can create.

After seeing it, Progen wasn’t surprised that Stemmy didn’t know what it was. The Arcanaphil didn’t seem to be something that belonged there, just as his own crystal was foreign to the body. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be harmful; looking closer, all that Progen could feel was a source of magical energy within the strange cell, dormant at present, but ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice.

Even more cautious than he had been in creating it in the first place, the dungeon crystal quickly found a small infection site of bacteria along the stomach lining. It wasn’t that big of a surprise to see it, as there always seemed to be one infection or another – especially after Marstin consumed just about any type of food – and he was thankful for once that it was there so he could see what the new cell could do. Since it was still classified as an “immune cell”, Progen was hoping that it would be a powerful upgrade to what he already possessed.

Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing.

It was almost as though the bacteria were entirely invisible to the Arcanaphil, even when he directed it to touch and ram into one of the smaller pathogens. For their part, the bacteria ignored the new immune cell all the same, not even reacting when it ran into one of them. Orders to attack were entirely disregarded, leaving Progen and Stemmy thoroughly confused.

“I’m not sure what it is supposed to do, nor why it seems useless. I’m sure it has a purpose, but I have no idea what that might be.” Since he wasn’t positive regarding what it was supposed to do, and there was no mental descriptor he could assign it, there was no nickname attributed to the Arcanaphil on his Immune Cell Options. After trying for another few minutes to see if it would react to virions from a virus, which he located a small cluster of in the esophagus, he left the strange immune cell floating in the middle of stomach and moved on.

That was it for immune cells, but that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. His previous “Cell Options” menu, propagated by Stem Cells, Immune Cells, Virions, and Bacteria, had subtly changed into something called “Production Options”.

Needless to say, he was eager to see what else was new.

“Am I stupid, or is that what I think it is?”

He couldn’t imagine it being anything else; the Multi-cellular Parasyte Larva was something extremely unexpected, to say the least.

Do you really want me to answer that?

Snark. That was new.

Regardless, he didn’t need an answer to that question, but there was one other that needed to be asked. “But why?”

Obviously, so that you could use it for your own purposes within the body.

“Like what?”

Well, for one, you would have your own large Parasyte in case something large like that attacked the body again. Secondly, it is a step up in your capabilities, being able to create multi-cellular organisms.

Progen figured that made sense, though he wasn’t eager to try creating one. The battle against such a monstrosity was still so recent that he had no desire to see another one, even in a small larval form. Perhaps later, he thought, pushing it off to the side for now.

All of your new unlocked immune cells and the Parasyte Larva really aren’t what you should be excited about.

“Huh? What do you—” The dungeon crystal looked at the list again, looking for what he missed, seeing it after a moment. “Oh. That’s right; you’re a gland fan, aren’t you?” The options he now had access to included something that said, “Hormones – Unlocked”.

That’s correct. Now it’s your turn to become a fan as well.

It turned out that Stemmy was right.

Chapter 4

“Head up, Marstin; it’s coming your way!” Kyra’s voice called out from up ahead.

The ground slightly shook as a large beast burst out from the forest growth. Vaguely resembling a caribou, this monster possessed a menacing set of fangs, sharp and pointed horns, and retractable claws on its hooves. Known as a Caribou Mimic, this monster was the nemesis of all hunters and stood at a tier 2 combat threat against an individual, or tier 3 for a group greater than three.

Marstin yanked his rope as soon as he saw the beast, causing the magical contraption at the end to quickly reel him up into the tree. His foot barely avoided grazing a horn as the beast sped past under him, but the newly 16-year-old adventurer was calm as he hurled four daggers with shocking precision, hitting the thigh muscles on all four legs. The monster screamed as it tumbled into a tree, unable to stop itself.

Following it, an older girl, almost a woman, burst out of the forest wearing light leather armor with metal armaments on the shoulders, chest-plate, and knees wielding spiked fist gloves. With a loud cry, she burst forward like a bolt of lightning with her left arm reeled back and landed a heavy punch into the monster’s chest, the blow penetrating the thick flesh and accurately destroying the heart. With a groan, the Caribou Mimic died, tongue flopping out of its mouth. The girl, Kyra, checked the monster’s status before looking up and giving Marstin a thumbs up.

“Nice shots, Marstin,” Kyra grinned from down below. “That’s three down, two more to go for this quest.”

Marstin returned the grin with a smile of his own as he attempted to detach the mechanical hook from the tree limb. Unfortunately for the older teen, Marstin still was not very familiar with the technomagical device he’d recently purchased from the Adventurer’s Depot and accidently released the rope instead of the hook. He fell to the ground with a brief yelp, grunting as the snow cushioning his fall as he landed on his butt embarrassingly. Kyra chuckled as she helped her adventuring partner up.

“Thanks,” the young boy mumbled as he brushed off the snow. “So, is it your turn or my turn?”

“Yours,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes. “Come on now, no need to get all squeamish on me, again. I’ll grab your new toy in the meantime.”

“You would have shrieked, too, if its guts gave a death fart while you were digging around its corpse,” Marstin grumbled as he knelt next to the dead monster, pulling out his throwing daggers and removing the butchering knife from his belt. The blade caused a sickening crunch as Marstin cut through the rib bones, revealing the smashed heart and the valuable monster core. He threw it at Kyra, who deftly caught it, and then got to work removing the horns and hooves. The duo lacked the ability to bring the bodies whole back to the dismantling yard behind the depot, so he only removed the most valuable parts of the monster to put in the adventurer bags. A few minutes of sawing and cutting later, Marstin stood back up with a groan and cracked his neck with an audible pop. Kyra handed over the retracting hook when he was finished, and Marstin reattached his rope to it.

“So, two more you said?” he clarified.

“That’s correct,’ Kyra said, having pulled the mission request out of her own bag to double-check. “The Hunter’s Guild has put out the persistent quest to hunt Caribou Mimics in amounts of 5 each, with a silver coin a core as the reward after the guild takes their cut. We can only take the quest once a week, and the request will be dropped once spring comes to a close.”

“I still think that’s a weird way to break up killings,” Marstin once again argued as the duo left to track down another monster. “Would it not be safer for everyone for a few adventurers to hunt down all the mimics at once and turn the cores in at the same time? That seems much more efficient.”

“You heard what the receptionist said,” Kyra reminded Marstin. “Overhunting Caribou Mimics too quickly results in a food chain issue and makes the more dangerous monsters more common. My dad even supported it, saying that the area was more dangerous before the rule was established ten years ago. It’s fortunate that they reproduce quickly, since they are needed to help control the caribou population, as the other predators haven’t recovered yet from being hunted down to nothing.”

“I still don’t understand any of that,” Marstin said plainly. “Forgive my lack of education, but wolves are still around, monster or not, and that’s plenty trouble enough. These mimic monsters can’t be the only thing that controls caribou population levels.”

“Sure, then tell me about how big the entire herd of caribou was during the summer?” Kyra questioned with a smirk. “Did that look like a controllable number to you? Monster mimic versions included?”

“No comment,” Marstin raised his arms in surrender. “Right then, hunt the Caribou Mimics in small numbers and accept the occasional hunter fatality, got it.”

“You’re terrible,” Kyra rolled her eyes. “And your sense of humor isn’t getting any better either.”

“I’m better than Etna at least,” Marstin pointed out. “Her dark humor is a little too on point for me to laugh at most of her jokes.”

“She’s better than you in a lot of ways,” Kyra giggled, mock-punching the younger boy and causing him to stumble for a moment from the strength of her blow. “Hm, I wonder if she’s doing all right. The three of them have been gone for what, three months now? It’s still a bit strange not fighting alongside Jillian, or to have Yule and Etna’s support.”

“That’s right,” Marstin agreed. “They went back with Yarrow, Olivia’s group, and the other tribal members before the first blizzard of winter for their end of the year . . . er, rituals.” He cocked his head to the side. “I forgot when they’re meant to be back by; the beginning or end of spring?”

“Yule said it would depend on the ceremony,” Kyra reminded him. “Remember? This year is one where their spiritual ancestors are expected to return as winter spirits. Olivia was hopeful in seeking some guidance in her training from them.”

“I hope she succeeds,” Marstin sighed. “But a part of me hopes she fails. After all, she won’t be around if she masters her powers.”

Before Kyra could respond, Marstin dropped his fist into his open palm. “Right, now I remember! Yarrow told me back then during a lunch meeting. This year was special because of the centennial winter solstice, something like that. For their ancestors to take form again and walk among them for a time. She was going to compete in the inter-tribal tournament.”

“At least you remembered after I told you,” Kyra said dryly as they paused to inspect a tree for territory markings. Only old markings were left, and from a bear by a look of the claw marks. Kyra let out a sigh after they stood back up. “It’s been quite lonely since they left. You’re not much of a talker like they are.”

“I don’t have much to say,” Marstin acknowledged, unapologetically. “You know me; I prefer action over words. Saves time and money in the long run.”

“Right you are, Sir Pragmatist,” Kyra saluted sarcastically. “You’re someone so inclined for efficiency you’d live in a grave to prepare for death.”

“Let’s let that one go, please,” Marstin groaned, brushing off a patch of snow that had fallen onto his shoulder from a tree branch. “I didn’t have much of a choice. . . or any choice really. The me from back then, before becoming an adventurer . . . those times aren’t, well, they aren’t good memories.” The teen adventurer shuddered even as he kept his face straight, despite the warm clothes and armor on his body.

“Sorry,” Kyra apologized, linking her hand with Marstin’s. “I got a bit too into the conversation. Shall we talk about other things?”

Marstin’s hand trembled at her touch, and he looked over to meet Kyra’s gentle eyes. She squeezed his hand in support. “You aren’t that person anymore Marstin,” she whispered to him. “Let go of the past.”

‘You’ll never be free of your past.’

Marstin shuddered and turned away from Kyra, his eyes locking onto the trees in the distance. “Look, I found another Caribou Mimic mark,” he said, swiftly freeing his hand from Kyra’s grasp to point ahead and quickly to mask his thoughts. “Let’s get a move on before another hunting group finds it.” He ran ahead, leaving behind a slightly crestfallen Kyra. Marstin kept his attention ahead as he followed the mark to some marks in the snow, tracking the movement of the monster in an effort to hide the residual heat still emanating from his palm.

The new year had just passed. One single year had completely altered the course of Marstin’s life from dying street rat failure of a thief, to successful and trusted adventurer. He’d gone from living in a literal grave, to living in a proper adventuring inn. From wearing thrown-away rags and armor to wearing clothes made from the monsters he slew. From being forbidden to even look at Kyra, to being able to talk, laugh, and work with her every day. He’d come so far. And yet, he didn’t feel it was enough.

‘It will never be enough.’

In every eye that he looked into, he saw his reflection staring back at him. In every window and mirror he passed; he hadn’t gone far enough. The sense of inadequacy from his former existence hadn’t weakened, it had only grown stronger with every success under his belt. But he kept it down, hidden, locked away tight, lest it be shown to others. He needed to be strong now, to prove to others that he deserved their faith in him. That he deserved to put faith in himself.

‘What faith can be found in pain you’ve felt and dealt?’

Distracted with these thoughts, Marstin only barely registered Kyra’s warning cry, slowing down just enough that the Caribou Mimic’s ambush from his blindside impacted his armored torso and not his hands or head. Still, the force of the blow knocked the wind out of the young man and sent him flying into a tree, his right arm going numb and most likely broken.

‘You self-deluding fool,’ Marstin’s inner demon voice rang in his head as time seemed to slow down for the teen. ‘Distracted while on the job? You never learn.’

“Shut up,” Marstin muttered to himself as he forced himself to breathe again, his head still spinning as the world shifted around him. “This isn’t the time.”

‘You can never change without-‘ the voice vanished as Marstin’s hold on reality returned to him.

“Get up, Marstin!” Kyra’s voice came from his left. “Get out of the way, hurry!”

Through slightly blurry eyes, the young man could barely discern the shapes of the monster and Kyra, who was fighting for her life trying to stop it from approaching him. However, her punching style of fighting didn’t appear to be doing anything more than angering the monster, and she was increasingly forced to dodge the clawed swipes and swinging horns even as the fangs drew ever closer to Marstin.

If he didn’t move soon, the caribou mimic would soon reach him, and Kyra would be forced into a dangerous gamble.

With a curse, Marstin shakily pulled his grapple hook out with his left hand and threw it up into the tree. His aim was off, and the hook bounced off the branch it was supposed to wrap around.

“Marstin!” Kyra screamed, too close for comfort.

Marstin let out a sickening groan as he rolled out of the way, his numb right arm throbbing as the monster slammed into the tree he’d just been beside. The mimic’s sharp horns punctured the tree’s thick bark like it were snow, and the tree itself let out creaks and groans as the monster attempted to dislodge itself. Marstin felt a strong arm wrap around him, and Kyra threw him over her shoulder as she began to flee.

“You idiot! You’re the one always reminding me to be aware of your surroundings!” the older young woman scolded as she ran, very faintly panting. “What were you thinking, running full sprint through the forest?”

“Thought I saw something,” Marstin lied as he grit his teeth, inwardly berating himself for his actions more than she was doing. “Didn’t think to consider it would circle around. I think my right arm’s busted.”

“Can you do your thing yet?” Kyra asked as she leaped over a fallen log. They both flinched as the shattering sound of wood rang out behind them, followed by a hungry roar. “The blue blur?”

“I don’t feel it yet,” Marstin admitted as he took note of his eyesight returning to normal. “It still isn’t something I can reliably call upon yet. And don’t call it that.” He listened for a moment. “That beast is following us on a run. You won’t have much of a head start in a few moments.”

“Any suggestions?” Kyra asked, panting more audibly now.

“Yeah, but you’re not going to like it,” he admitted bluntly.

“I can yell at you later when we’re alive!” Kyra responded. “Hurry up!”

Marstin tilted his head around to look ahead of them. A quick search gave him what he needed, and he pointed. “There, head over to those two trees and give me a hand or two.” Kyra followed his directions and stopped between two relatively close-together trees, though there was enough space between them for a horse and cart to pass through. As she placed him down, Marstin pulled his second bundle of rope out and threw it to Kyra.

“Take my rope and wrap it around the tree over there for me,” Marstin directed. As she ran off, Marstin moved to the opposite side, holding the rope’s other end. Kyra reappeared a moment later, handing the other end of the rope back to Marstin. Despite his limp right arm, Marstin quickly created a hitch knot with an added knot on the outer side and handed it to Kyra.

“Here, hold onto this,” he said quickly. “When I give the signal, pull with all your might, understood?”

“Okay, but what are you-” she began to ask.

“Get ready!” Marstin shouted as he moved as quickly as he could between the two trees. He pulled out several spiked balls on closable hooks and hung them along the rope, before taking out a dagger with his left hand. He stood slightly beyond the rope, which had sunk into the snow floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kyra looking worried, but still holding onto the rope as instructed. Reassured, Marstin turned his full attention to the forest ahead of him.

In the distance, he could hear the Caribou Mimic’s snarls and footfalls breaking the snow. The creature rounded a tree, and it and Marstin entered each other’s view. Locking onto its prey, the monster let out a grunting cry and charged straight at Marstin, fangs flashing in anticipation as drool rolled down them.

As Marstin watched the beast grow closer, he began to feel the familiar tingle in his fingers, the one he’d grown accustomed to over the past half-year. A faint, bluish aura emanated from his fingertips, something only he could see and feel. Though the blue wisps of fire-like light seemed to be only on his hands, Marstin could feel the sensation flowing through his body like a wave of goosebumps. He winced for a moment as the feeling reached his head, as the strange sensation could be felt entering his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, each separately, an uncomfortable feeling.

Still, it did what Marstin had been expecting. The moment the aura reached his head, time seemed to slow down around him as his focus narrowed in on the coming attack. Even standing a house’s distance away from the beast, Marstin could detect every detail on its body. Its eyes were firmly locked on to him, not noticing Kyra in its blind angle. It hadn’t noticed the rope. The leg muscles were continuing to pump out for running, not jumping or turning. Everything was in place.

A second later, Marstin gave Kyra the signal. “Now!” he cried out, raising up his dagger.

Still in the world of hyper focus, Marstin watched as his improvised strategy began to play out. Kyra yanked the rope taunt, causing it to spring up from the snow. As it had not been secured on the other side, it only rose a few inches off the ground. However, its quick movement caught the monster’s attention immediately. Marstin watched its eyes look down, focusing on the twin ropes in between it and its prey. The leg muscles were beginning to shift, getting ready to leap over them.

In that instant of inattention, Marstin reacted. The glowing dagger in his hand was hurled with pinpoint accuracy, moving in the single second the mimic had shifted its eyes downward. By the time the sun’s rays reflecting off the dagger recaptured its attention, the gleaming point of the glowing blade began its puncture.

The monster screamed in pain as the weapon penetrated its right eye, but it couldn’t react in time. Its brain was incapable of balancing the orders of ‘run’, ‘leap’, and ‘stop’ at the same time, resulting in the beast tripping as it hit the ropes, Kyra roaring as her arms bulged to keep the rope taunt in spite of the monster’s force against her. She steadfastly maintained her hold, and the Caribou Mimic slammed face first into the ground, driving the dagger in its head even deeper. The monster whimpered, but Marstin was already upon it with another glowing dagger. He slammed it into the center of the monster’s skull, and the blue aura pierced the hard bone before the beast could even react. A shudder, a moment, and the Caribou Mimic was no more.

Marstin panted as the sensation quickly vanished, the blue wisps on his fingers vanishing like smoke in the wind. And then he collapsed onto his back, his body incapable of moving as it twitched. As Marstin stared helplessly into the blue, partly cloudy sky, Kyra’s face poked into view.

“For such a useful ability, its drawbacks are pretty poor,” she commented with an annoyed face. “And don’t think for a second that me pitying you will let you off the hook. You nearly got killed again! I swear to the three heavens, you’re a terrible mix of capability and foolishness, Marstin.”

“Still,” Marstin said with a small smile. “It’s your turn, right?”

Kyra’s face just stared at Marstin, who attempted to keep the smile on his face. She snorted and reached into her adventurer bag to pull out her dissecting tools.

“You’re a right lunatic, Marstin,” she said as she moved toward the caribou. “I expect to be properly compensated for my emotional distress when we get back to town!”

“One sweet roll-” he began.

“TWO! With honey bear glaze!” Kyra’s angry voice echoed over the gruesome sound of flesh being angrily mauled.

“Two sweet rolls with honey bear glaze, a wooly cow steak, and a mug of fire ale on me from the Star Inn,” Marstin offered gamely. He waited for a few moments before attempting to shift his body onto his left side, wincing at the sound of shattering bone coming from out of sight.

“You have a deal,” Kyra said, reappearing with a sinister smile with faint speckles of blood. “But then again, we do need to get one more Caribou Mimic to finish this quest. I think we should revisit the bait plan I originally thought of. You know, the really, very, super safe one.”

Marstin felt a cold shudder.

Chapter 5

“I disagree with this plan and all its aspects.” Marstin said resolutely, even as his body actively accepted its fate, lying loosely on the snow as Kyra finished trying the rope securely, snugly, and quite thoroughly around him.

“So, you expect me to hunt the last caribou mimic by myself?” the older girl asked sarcastically as she double-checked her handiwork. “You know as well as I that after doing your thing, you’re completely worthless for a period of time.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, how about Sad mode; blue being associated with sadness and how sad you end up after using it.”

“But this time I didn’t augment my entire body,” Marstin insisted futilely. “I only moved the flow into my senses. I’m fairly sure I’ll be just fine in a few hours, give or take. And we are not calling it ‘Sad Mode’! That’s worse than “Blue Blur” and “Joe Flow”!”

“This plan might be easier if you were unconscious,” Kyra muttered retrospectively as she examined her gloved fist in detail. “And I seem to recall being very offended after someone chose our team name without my input all of a sudden.” Marstin shut his mouth.

“Kidding,” Kyra snorted as she began pulling the excess rope to her hand, wrapping it around her hand and arm in an oval shape. “Father has told me getting knocked out by force too many times can damage an adventurer’s head, magical healing notwithstanding. And ‘Rogue’ as an adventurer team name is fine.”

“Anyway, what’s the big deal?” She asked, eyeing the prone teen. “You’re the one who came up with the original plan with the mini-Rogues, right? I recall your exact words to their non-believing faces were ‘perfectly safe, minimal risk involved’. Besides, if we don’t get this done soon, the sun will begin to set, and we’ll be forced to travel in the dark. Shorter days in winter, remember?”

“I regret everything,” Marstin groaned. “And that plan wasn’t meant for monster hunting-- it was for catching thieves in the safety of the city!”

“Sure sure,” Kyra chuckled as she finished wrapping up the rope. “Now get ready for it.” With a loud grunt, Kyra threw the rope high into the air, causing it to fly over a particularly large limb and come back down. She caught it gracefully and began to pull. Marstin sighed as he felt himself rise headfirst into the air, covered in a thick layer of rope that covered every part of his body except his head, especially the feet. With a little more effort, he looked like he was ready to hibernate for the winter and remerge with wings in the spring. A few more pulls later, and the young man was dangling a good 15 feet up in the air. He looked down helplessly as Kyra tied off the rope and nodded at him in satisfaction.

“Alright, Marstin, go ahead and do your caribou call!” Kyra shouted up at him. “I’ll be ready when it gets here!” With that said, she ducked behind a tree and Marstin lost sight of her.

The young adventurer sighed and muttered angrily to himself. This plan had been conceived back when the girls were still with them, relying on their natural abilities and talents -- not to mention their superior numbers. After all, tier 2 monsters, while terrifying when handled alone or via a frontal assault without significant strength, were quite weak when their weaknesses were exploited. The Honey Bear, Marstin’s first tier 2 enemy and the reason for the formation of his adventuring team of ‘Rogues’, had been a particularly troublesome slime, made of a mix of honey and acidic slime goo, that Marstin was unable to defeat. However, his companion Etna had used her frost magic to freeze it, giving him and the other physical fighters the chance to reach its core and kill it. The Caribou Mimics were similarly solitary hunters driven to hunt due to hunger; thus, their singular focus on their prey rendered them vulnerable to surprise attacks. It helped that even a normal blade could pierce their hide, though blunt weapons would require excessively more violence to achieve the same result.

“Hurry up!” Kyra’s hurried voice came from somewhere around him, interrupting his thoughts. “Sun will be setting at this rate!”

Marstin groaned. “Moo,” he muttered under his breath. “Mooooo.”

A rock flew out and hit the back of his neck, causing Marstin to hiss. “MOO!” He cried out in surprise, only to blush as he realized what he’d just done. The snickers from the bushes only confirmed his embarrassment. Still, the deed was done, so Marstin could only continue moo-ing loudly.

Suddenly, in the distance, a response of ‘moo?’ was heard. Marstin answered it with a loud moo, and the distant rapid footsteps could be heard making their way toward him. Out of the forest burst out a caribou, normal-looking except for the antlers, who blinked its large, soul-filled eyes as it looked around.

“Moo?” it called out again.

“MOO!@%?” Marstin yelled at it, wishing he could spit at it accurately to vent his feelings. The caribou looked up at the source of the noise and locked eyes with Marstin. Suddenly, the soul-filled eyes didn’t look quite as gentle as they had before. Somehow, Marstin got the impression that his insult-filled moo had transcended language to be understood by all things.

“ROAR!” The Caribou Mimic screeched at Marstin, having understood it had been tricked. The monster was understandably pissed, since caribou was its meat of choice, though clearly it was dumb enough to fall for a human making a poor caribou noise. Marstin’s insulting moo likely helped as well.

The mimic ran and leaped at Marstin, though its horns were unable to quite reach Marstin’s heavily protected feet. The beast ran around him for a few cycles, acting much like a dog that had tree’d a cat, before standing on its hind legs to gash at him. The tips of its antlers were barely enough to touch Marstin, causing him to begin swinging back and forth like a pendulum in a clock. The beast roared out in eagerness and began the most stress-inducing game of ‘hit the target’ Marstin had ever been part of.

“Any day now!” he roared out at Kyra as the latest hit caused him to begin spinning. As he swung back and forth, his body started to feel the effects of vertigo.

As the beast reared up again to take another swipe at him, Kyra appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of it, having flash-stepped in with her right fist already reared back with the flickering of magic. Of course, the most glaring difference to any onlooker would be the massive spike glove on her right hand she hadn’t worn yet today, inch-long metal spikes glistening in the winter sun.

“Warm Baker’s Fist!” she cried out, unleashing the blow she’d been storing up. With a somewhat audible bang, her fist flew out and smashed into the groin of the monster, accurately striking its target with a crunching sound that made Marstin’s limp body twitch in fright. The monster could only groan a few octaves higher than anyone thought possible as it flew back into a tree, slowly drooping onto the ground as its eyes rolled back into its head from the pain.

“Nice job, now let me down!” Marstin called out from up above. “I’m getting dizzy!”

“I have to finish the job, Marstin!” Kyra called up sweetly, a warm smile on her face that would have been comforting had it not been for the blood running down her spiked glove. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this in no time at all!”

The combative young woman approached the downed beast with that smile, fist raised, as Marstin watched from up high. That’s when the sickening sounds began once more, which forced Marstin to close his eyes as he continued to spin and swing back and forth. He made the mistake of opening his left eye when the sounds first stopped, not realizing Kyra had decided to utilize the dissecting knife at that moment. The sight combined with the extreme vertigo to cost him his lunch.

*   *   *

The sun was in the middle of setting as Marstin and Kyra exited the woods, dirty and unkempt from a long day’s work. The pair breathed a sigh of relief as they came within sight of the large gate that allowed for passage through Graniton’s thick walls. Marstin’s inability to move had slowed them down more than either expected and, due to the surprise appearance of a snow wolf, they had been worried they wouldn’t make it back in time before the gates were closed for the night. The hungry tier 1 monster chasing them put them off track for a time before Kyra lost it, cleverly breaking a frozen river after running across it and causing the snow wolf to fall into the water. Nothing too unusual for the pair to deal with from their experience, and after escaping Marstin had recovered the ability to move under his own power.

Two familiar faces seemed to be waiting for them.

“About time you two got back,” Larry the gate guard snorted. “Another hour and the gate would have been closed for the night. No chance for a warm bed or warm food without attracting the wrong kind of attention, right, Phil?”

Phil, the other gate guard, rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to this guy. You had more time, though not that much. Welcome back, you two.”

Marstin gave the two gate guards a friendly nod and smile. He had a somewhat odd relationship with the two guards; having previously been a thief-in-training, the two had been among the many he’d tried to avoid on a daily basis. However, when he had been dying of fever, it had been these two who tracked him down to his former grave hole home and helped retrieve him to be saved by his guildmates. Since then, he’d become closer to the two odd guards who always seemed to be on duty at whichever gate Marstin returned to.

Privately, Marstin had once tested this by going first to the north gate to verify the two were there before entering through the west gate. To his shock, he’d found Larry and Phil at the west gate, with Larry courting his love-interest once again as she left with her all-female adventurer group. When he asked, Phil told Marstin they’d been at the west gate all day, and that he must have gotten confused by the similar armor all the guards wore. Marstin had been forced to let this suspicious incident go, for now.

Larry, the talkative one who stood on the right side, was an immigrant to Istut, as indicated by his paler skin tone even after years of standing guard. According to him, he’d been a warrior in another country and had chosen to retire to Graniton after an incident, or injury, or whatever he felt like claiming that day. Regardless, he always had something to say, and he was currently attempting to woo another adventurer in town, a strong muscular lady fighter with a preference for purple, whose name was still unknown to Marstin. He’d never seen the lady or her group at the guild either, now that he thought about it.

Larry’s constant companion, Phil, was definitely the more silent and ‘to the point’ kind of person compared to his talkative partner. As such, Marstin knew nominally less about Phil compared to Larry, but Phil was definitely the more considerate of the two, if not also the more observant. Phil had been the one to pick up on Marstin’s illness after the teen had exited the gate back then, and his off-hand comments about certain events in town had more than once had clued Marstin in on questions he’d had regarding quests, or trouble. Larry had once implied that Phil was married, but the other had glared at him so hard Marstin had never heard the truth of it.

Between the two, there was very little, it seemed, that could occur at the gates of Graniton. Though, admittedly, Marstin had never seen the two actually do their job beyond keeping track of people’s comings and goings. They seemed to be masters of standing and knowing names, which was probably the most important skill of being city guards. Any actual action seemed to usually be left to the adventurers.

“Glad to be back,” Kyra answered Phil, disrupting Marstin’s musings. “Anything interesting happen while we were gone? Town still in one piece?”

“Should be,” Larry shrugged. “But we aren’t paid to go into town and check, you see. Let us know if the town vanished behind our backs, so we know to complain to the boss. I have a pile of complaints I’d love to leave at his grave.”

“If he hears you say that, it’ll be your funeral,” Phil noted, shutting Larry up.

The duo of adventurers giggled at the antics of the guards and waved goodbye as they entered the town of Graniton. As its name suggested, the town was a large walled town, not quite a city, primarily built from the granite mined from the surrounding mines that once served as the town’s main source of income. It was divided into four distinct districts joined at the central plaza: north, where the majority of the townspeople lived; south, the slum district that formerly housed most of the mining-related businesses and housing; east, the business district where most inns and merchant markets were located; and the west, where most other business stood. The central plaza was where Graniton’s main buildings stood, including the Adventurer Guild, the Adventurer Supply Depot and Dissection Yard, City Hall, Central Guard Headquarters and Jail, and the most expensive restaurants. Kyra and her father, Olen Risenflour, a former adventurer-turned baker, lived atop their bakery in the Western District, a few roads away from the main street. Marstin, on the other hand, currently resided at the Stargazer Inn in the Eastern District, an inn that catered exclusively to adventurers and no others. Its owner, Yolna, was rumored to be a retired top-level A-class adventurer with magical power over space itself. While Marstin wasn’t partial to the truth of this, it was true that the inside of the inn was larger than the outside, and certain other aspects of the building seemed to exist beyond the realm of normal reason.

“Should we turn in the quest today or tomorrow?” Kyra asked Marstin as they walked down the busy main street, still covered in the last hawkers of the day attempting to sell their merchandise as they called out to passersby.

“Let’s do it tomorrow,” Marstin proposed. “I could use a good night’s sleep after today. Plus, we could pick up some honey bear glaze from the depot, when it's open, for your father to use.”

“Don’t forget the wooly cow steak,” Kyra warned.

“Right, that too,” Marstin mumbled as he went over the quest reward and sighed as he realized he’d lose a good chunk to buy the delicacies for Kyra. Still, it wasn’t something he would likely regret after he’d see her satisfied and relaxed smile.

“Good boy,” Kyra patted Marstin’s head, inwardly noting to herself that he wasn’t nearly as short as he had been a year ago. In fact, he seemed to be closing in on her height after finally being well fed. Not voicing any of these observations, she continued. “So, what did you think of my new move?”

“Hm?” Marstin asked, blinking.

“My ‘Warm Baker Fist’,” Kyra prompted with her raised right fist for emphasis. “The one I killed that last Caribou Mimic with? Remember? What did you think?”

“I thought the plan was a single hit to the heart,” Marstin said dryly.

“Well, I couldn’t reach it while it was standing on its hind legs, so I went for the next best target,” Kyra shrugged. “Seemed to be just as effective as a fatal shot to me.”

“What if it had been a female?” Marstin asked.

“Caribou Mimics are a solely male species,” Kyra said with certainty. “Yule once told me so; they can only reproduce with female caribou, whether monsterized or not, making them true parasites on the species. Though, ironically, it also means the mimics’ numbers are kept low because they actively put themselves in danger for the sake of the herd against predators. Anyway, you haven’t told me what you think?”

“Did you really need to shout out the name as you did it?” Marstin asked, “Not to mention its name. ‘Warm Baker’s Fist’, really? Aren’t names supposed to be intimidating and scary?”

“You can’t say anything about shouting move names,” Kyra said with an annoyed expression. “I’ve heard you do it more recently, especially when teaching the mini-Rogue urchins. Shouting the name helps you concentrate on the attack anyway-- both Yule and Etna agree with me on that.”

“Magic types call out spell names to help them concentrate on the magic they want to use. But I guess your logic isn’t incorrect then,” Marstin nodded after a moment’s reflection. “I’ve heard Oswald and the others do it as well, though not all the time. Anyway, I’m looking at it from a silent point of view; doesn’t seem to make too much sense for ambushes. But back to the important issue here, that name. What, are you going to make a catch phrase like ‘Prepare to be Baked!’ next?”

“No…” Kyra said, turning away and blushing.

“Don’t tell me you actually thought of that yourself,” Marstin said gaping at her.

The older teen turned shy and kicked a stone away, her displeasure and gloom clearly evident on her face. Marstin inwardly began to fumble with a quick response.

“Uh, what I meant to say was that, that would be a great catchphrase,” he stumbled over his words. “Yeah, very intimidating. Uh, you could also use words like… Bake them up?”

Kyra snorted in spite of herself, causing Marstin to let out a sigh of relief. She gave him a sideways look and then down at her hand, which she curled into a tight fist.

“I take a lot of pride being a baker’s daughter,” Kyra said as they turned down a side street toward her home. “My father might be retired as a fighter, but he still uses his fighting skills to make great bread all by himself. My mom as well; she was the one who helped him get his start by teaching him what she knew, before her passing. He’s taught me everything he knows, and so I plan on honoring him and my mother through my fighting style as well.”

“Is that why your fist was giving off magic instead of your usual aura?” Marstin ventured. “I know aura isn’t often used in Istut compared to the rest of the northern countries, but that’s what your father specialized in when he worked as an adventurer, right?”

“Not quite, but close,” Kyra explained. “My father was a magic aura fighter, so I am training to be one as well. Not many have the body type to practice both aura and magic at the same time, but I was blessed to have inherited my father’s physique. My ‘Warm Baker’s Fist’ isn’t the move’s final form, but I’m still figuring it out. Someday, my fist WILL burn hot enough to bake bread with a single punch.” She gave Marstin a cheeky grin. “How’s that for the legacy of a baker’s daughter?”

“That would certainly be a sight to behold,” Marstin agreed as they rounded the corner. “Hearing that, I would like to apologize for poking fun at your name choice. I think it’s a good name for a move.”

“Really?” Kyra asked, her eyes glowing under the fading sunlight.

“Yeah,” Marstin nodded. “You should show it to your father and ask for his advice on how to improve it.”

“I wanted to keep it a secret from him until it was complete,” Kyra shook her head. “I want to see the look on his face after showing it to him.”

“I’m not saying tell him your goal,” Marstin dissuaded. “I mean get his advice on using fire in your fist. It would be bad if you suffered a rebound from practicing and burned yourself. That would surely discourage him from teaching you more, right?”

Kyra considered Marstin’s point as the two approached her bakery, the line for buying bread getting shorter as opening hours came to a close. “You know Marstin, you’re right,” she agreed as they entered the backyard and approached the backdoor. “I need to get as much of his teaching as possible while he believes I can manage it. I’ll go ask him right away.” She turned and, quicker than Marstin could react, delivered a quick peck to his cheek. She blushed and ran away into the back, leaving a befuddled Marstin behind.

The young man raised a hand to his cheek and touched it, marveling at the fading warmth of her quick kiss.

“Larry is right: The women of this country are very direct,” he muttered under his breath as he too blushed and turned to head home. Kyra’s kiss left him once again with mixed feelings, especially with the future being so uncertain for him.

He kept to himself the main repercussions of his involvement in the Ghevin Drestice incident, refraining from informing Kyra, Jillian, Yule, Etna, and the other urchin members of Rogue. When Ghevin died in his cell after speaking with Marstin, the young man had once again been arrested and subjected to questioning. Thankfully, this time the guild master of the Adventurer’s Guild had been there to ensure the legality of the questions and the arrest, and evidence had shown that Ghevin had been magically killed, something Marstin, who had his guild ID clearly state he was unable to use high-level magic, was deemed incapable of enacting.

Still, this meant he was the last person to see Ghevin alive and hear his final words. The guild master had made sure Marstin understood that this was not the end of the questions, and the country would likely have more for him in the future. That had been 6 months ago, almost to the day. 3 months after that, he’d been brought back into the guild for questions, this time from a royal investigator from the capital. Marstin had answered as honestly as he could, especially when the investigator had revealed a dark ‘truth orb’ that revealed how much truth existed in his statements. However, in regard to Ghevin’s final words, there had been an odd ‘blip’, as Marstin would describe it, when the eyes of everyone involved grew cloudy. Unfortunately, they then repeated the question over and over to an increasingly frustrated Marstin until someone noted the loss of time.

Thankfully, they had concluded the question to be magically sealed from Marstin’s lips, and the issue was dropped, to the young boy’s relief. Still, they had once again informed him he’d be expected to answer more questions in the future, making the young teen groan under the considerate reassuring pats from the guild master.

Ever since then, Marstin had sensed that whenever he left the Stargazer Inn, someone was constantly watching him. He had long given up trying to locate them after the first week. Whoever this person or persons were, they only seemed to be interested in watching him at all times. In some cases, like today with the Caribou Mimic, it seemed that the watchers even had intentions of interfering to save him. Every time that happened, Marstin managed to survive by luck, by a tactical decision, or by the sheer skin of his teeth, and they never appeared. After 3 months, he honestly didn’t want to know who was watching him; it just smelled like more trouble to the former thief.

What’s more, the constant surveillance had made Marstin unable to get the practice in with his new ability, the blue aura, as he had hoped to keep it a trump card in case of emergencies. He hadn’t managed to do a good job however, as the royal investigators had forcibly fished the reason why he was able to resist the mind magic and even destroy the source of the demonic ability affecting the rest of the town.

Marstin was forced to admit to existence of this strange ability, though he did manage to hide some details by stating that the blue aura had manifested itself without his control, true, and augmented his senses, true, in times of danger, also true. As he himself was ignorant of the blue aura’s origin, so too was everyone else. The currently accepted theory, proposed by the guild master of the Adventurer’s Guild, was that Marstin’s ability to use magic, shown on his adventurer card to be inactive, was coming back due to the changes in Marstin’s lifestyle. This had been accepted by everyone except Kyra, who saw through Marstin’s lies of omission, as magic was well known to manifest in strange ways to the untrained. Children floating in the air and other such strange events were commonplace when magical talent manifested, so why not body enhancement?

Marstin’s companion, however, pulled Marstin aside later and discussed the blue aura with him in full detail. As she was the only one still alive who witnessed Marstin’s power unleash itself without being mind-jacked, she intuitively understood that the blue aura was not a mere manifestation of magic talent. By her own views, she’d explained to Marstin that the blue magic she’d seen more resembled aura more than magic, something she knew better than most as her father had practiced both, though it still couldn’t easily be categorized one way or the other. Under her limited tutorials within his room at the inn, with her father watching as both mentor and guardian, Marstin managed to at least learn how to call upon the blue aura ability.

However, the ability was best described as temperamental. The blue aura would not flow for most encounters, and it even seemed to be somewhat reluctant to be trained with, possessing an odd kind of resistance to his call. However, when he was in the heat of a dangerous battle, the flow would respond to his call and augment his abilities, depending on what Marstin needed.

Stage one, as Marstin referred to it, was to augment a body part, or his weapon. By augment, this meant it could increase the various physical aspects of the body part, such as resilience, strength, or even recovery ability. This was the easiest form of the blue aura to wield, and the one with the lowest detriment as it only caused the used body part to grow numb. Marstin had been able to walk back to town without pain because he had used the aura to rapidly repair his right arm, conveniently numbing it from physical sensations such as pain as a bonus.

Stage two, then, was the form Marstin had used earlier in the day. The flow was directed into his head and used to augment his already strengthened senses. Evidently, the growth in the sensitivity of his senses over the past 6 months and even before had been due to the existence of the blue aura, and this active form was even stronger. In this state, Marstin could seemingly increase his perception of time, allowing him to plan out tactical decisions during combat and calculate immediate cause and effect actions. Kyra had referred to this as ‘mind reading’, since he could see what his opponents planned on doing before they did it by the movements of their muscles and eyes. Sadly, this state didn’t last long, at most 5 minutes, before Marstin was fully drained and left limp as a piece of dough for several hours. The longer the state was kept, the longer the time required to recover.

Finally, there was stage 3, or as Marstin liked to call it, ‘Bones Pop Til You Drop’ emergency. This was the first version of aura he unwittingly called upon six months ago during the events surrounding Ghevin Drestice and the golem dungeon Marstin had entered with the adventuring team Red Family. In this state, the blue aura flowed through his entire body and augmented it, granting him highly increased strength, speed, dexterity, and thinking speed. In terms of adventurer strength, it raised his power from F, at which he forcibly remained to avoid a price hike at the Stargazer Inn, to D or C for the duration of a fight. This mode was the most difficult to manifest, and in fact the young man hadn’t managed to call upon it in the six months since beyond a single dangerous mission he’d participated in with Oswald’s Iron Yaks, where the group had faced down a pair of trio of wind rocs from the mountains. The consequence of this usage of blue aura was horrible, excruciating pain in every part of Marstin’s body. Noticeably, however, it seemed that his body seemed to grow stronger after each use, which meant that each subsequent use of stage 3 resulted in worse pain. The last fight against the wind rocs had even knocked Marstin unconscious for a full day just from the sheer pain, not to mention the day after awakening that left him feeble and unable to move without help.

Whether there were more stages was unknown, and Marstin had little desire to see what was worse than stage 3. He shuddered at the memory of the pain and quickly made his way back to the main street toward the east district and the inn.

The Stargazer Inn was located on the main street of the east side, perfectly situated among the many fancy business headquarters and other inns. From the outside, it bore little indication of its magical nature, and as Marstin stepped inside, he couldn’t help but stare up at the marvel that was the Stargazer Inn.

The lobby area of the inn was dominated by a huge central pillar surrounded by twin spiral staircases that each spun down and up respectively, allowing for ease of transport without even lifting a foot. To the left, a large tavern with tables and private rooms was filled with the sounds of raised voices, laughing, and eating as residents enjoyed the cheaper selection of food, and the slightly more expensive drinks when compared to other places to eat in Graniton. And to the right was the receptionist desk, staffed normally by Yolna herself.

However, ever since six months ago, after the funeral send-off of Marstin’s parents and family, Yolna had been missing from the receptionist desk. Instead, one of her hooded servants had been manning the desk, wordlessly accepting payment from residents and doing all the jobs Yolna had previously done. It even could be prompted to produce a clipboard of informal quests from Yolna, with rewards varying from free nights to rare items and materials.

Marstin was, then and still, disappointed at Yolna’s absence, especially after she left him some cryptic words about knowing the identity of his parents before vanishing. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. The hooded figure nodded in greeting at his approach.

“I’ll be making my payment tomorrow after turning in my latest quest,” Marstin explained. “Can you have some hot water sent up to my room? I wish to bathe today.”

The hooded figure nodded again, showing no other indication it had understood Marstin’s words. The young man sighed and left, missing Yolna’s warm smile and words. He took a quick glance at the food offerings of the day, lamb stew and carrots, and shook his head before walking over to the spiral staircase leading up. As it took him aloft, he made sure to pull out his room key- the one thing that would prevent him from getting endlessly lost in the inn. It glowed in response, illuminating for him upon which floor to exit, and its glow became brighter as Marstin walked, until he reached his room. Marstin entered his simple room to find the steaming tub of hot water waiting for him. After putting his armor and clothes aside, Marstin gave out a relaxed groan as he sank into the warm water, feeling the fatigue of the day draining away.

A pang of hunger echoed in his stomach, distracting him from the warmth and making him frown. Reflexively, Marstin’s eyes darted back and forth even though he was alone in his room. He reached out and grabbed his adventurer bag, pulling out a single snow wolf monster core. When Kyra caught her breath next to the river after escaping the monster wolf, Marstin had secretly retrieved the monster’s core while pretending to still be limp by manipulating his rope using the blue aura. Something he kept to himself from everyone-- the aura could do more with objects than just augment them, and it had desires beyond normal reasoning. Marstin gave the monster core a grimace. His stomach rumbled again.

With a reluctant groan, Marstin downed the monster core and burped, mentally telling himself it didn’t taste good and certainly didn’t taste like candy. He repeated this to himself until he fell asleep in bed, a nightly ritual he’d dealt with for 3 months.

Chapter 6

Brace for impact. Damage likely imminent.

“Wha—?”

Progen felt the body that held his dungeon together suddenly lurch sideways, and he watched in veritable slow-motion as the skin and muscle around the ribcage was forcefully compressed. A quick application of his mana inside of the bone structure kept the ribs themselves from cracking, but that was the least of his worries.

Subdermal contusions are present along the chest and stomach, and multiple tears have been detected in the left external abdominal oblique muscles. Spasming in the diaphragm has caused a temporary cessation in lung function. Conflicting visual information precludes—

There was another sudden lurch in Progen’s dungeon as Marstin’s body was slammed up against some sort of hard surface. This time, the dungeon crystal was unable to react fast enough as his host’s right humerus bone was fractured from the impact, with massive damage to the blood vessels, muscle tissue, and nerve endings in the arm and the glenoid tissue in the shoulder joint.

“Stemmy! What happened?” the dungeon crystal shouted as he rushed to start repairing the extensive damage to the arm. This time, it wasn’t a quick fix of a laceration or minor contusion, the usual injuries Marstin sustained when risking his life going on Adventurer’s Guild quests; instead, the broken bone would take some time to repair properly.

Marstin had been propelled into what appears to be a tree by some sort of Caribou Mimic. I’m already directing your mana to reinstate lung function and clear the temporary visual impairments detected in the ocular nerves.

“Do I need to reserve mana for extraction from the situation?”

That was one of the major detriments of Progen’s lack of access to his host’s brain: he was still limited in what sorts of information Stemmy could pass on from the body’s auditory and visual senses. The dungeon crystal had a basic idea of what was going on, as the cluster of interneuron cells had been keeping up a running commentary on the actions Marstin took, though for the most part it was just background noise to Progen and he ignored it – until something like this happened. Now he wanted as much information as possible.

Negative. Kyra is assisting with the extraction. Adrenal glands are assisting with adrenaline hormone distribution to the bloodstream.

Progen had seen that as well, and he was thankful for the brief analysis from Stemmy; while he had become more verbose as of late with his improved cluster of interneurons, when there was an emergency his communication was short and to the point.

The dungeon crystal could then detect some movement in the body, which jostled the arm of which he was trying to repair the worst parts, before Marstin was picked up by Kyra, a female Adventurer that Progen’s host had been spending a lot of time with lately. Stemmy continued to detail an escape through the forest the two Adventurers were within, but a sudden surge of familiar mana alerted the crystal that running away wasn’t necessarily the plan.

“Don’t tell me that he’s thinking of fighting!”

Not exactly. Marstin has some sort of other plan forming.

While Stemmy couldn’t explain what that plan was, Progen was starting to understand. Marstin’s mana – which flowed out of the closed-off brain area as if the barrier that prevented the dungeon crystal from accessing the area wasn’t even there – always seemed to have an infusion of intent within it, which Progen was easily able to read given his experience with his own mana. The problem, however, was that the young mind that created that intent had very little experience or knowledge of how to actually apply that intent; it had fallen to Progen to direct and tangentially shape the mana to get whatever was needed done. This was beneficial to the crystal because it was usually applied in order to safeguard the health of his host, and Marstin’s natural mana was much more potent than Progen’s own; this was evident especially when used on the body to enhance it, as it was used to the exact needs of what the mind required to survive.

Unfortunately, enhancing the body like this, as well as the flood of mana used in this manner, usually caused some damage and exhausted the natural pool of mana that the body stored. When those enhancements ended, it wasn’t long before the body collapsed as Progen was forced to repair anything vital and Marstin’s mana recharged.

“There has to be a way to tell Marstin not to shove it all out at once; this is like dumping all of the water in a lake to put out a small campfire,” he complained, routing the mana up to the visual, auditory, and olfactory senses.

Ah, that will help. Marstin also wanted to infuse his knives with mana, making them sharper and coating them with an aura of mana that would help them penetrate nearly anything when enough force was applied to the weapons. With the amount of mana Progen was pumping into them, the blades would pass through solid steel if necessary. I think his mana pool is increasing with all of this use; that could be dangerous in the future if I’m not able to expend it all somewhere.

After all of the mana was infused where it needed to be, there was little else that Progen could do. Stemmy informed him that Marstin was able to kill the charging Caribou Mimic with some precisely thrown knives, where they penetrated the beast’s eye and skull courtesy of the mana infusing them.

Mana exhaustion is setting in. Fortunately, the damage done to the body via the mana you directed wasn’t extensive and should be repaired quickly. The rest of the injuries, though, will take a bit longer.

That was good to hear, and Progen was glad that he had the knives in which to expend all of that mana that was released from the brain. Lucky, is more like it. The dungeon crystal had attempted to direct the mana in a way contrary to its intent before, in an effort to minimize the damage to the body by spreading it out more, but it had almost entirely resisted Progen’s ministrations. Now that the mana pool was even bigger since he had attempted that, he didn’t even want to think of the damage flooding the body with high concentrations of mana could cause.

Because the damage wasn’t that extensive from the actual use of Marstin’s mana, the body’s natural mana regeneration was increased as a result. Progen had noticed that not only had Marstin’s mana pool increased over the last few months, but as long as his host didn’t pass out entirely from the rapid overuse of mana, Marstin would “recharge” quite quickly.

I’ve compiled data over the last dozen uses of Marstin’s mana, and I believe I can now accurately depict his mana and regeneration rates. Keep in mind that these numbers are only distantly related to your own, as each point of his mana is approximately 1,000 times more potent than yours.

Without warning, a new greyish informational screen made from Progen’s mana coalesced outside of his crystal.

Current Status: Marstin Hardgrove

Available Mana: 49/200

Mana Regeneration Rate: 10 per minute

Major Injuries:

Minor Injuries:

Right humerus fracture

Multiple subdermal contusions

Glenoid tissue tears

Multiple lacerations

“That’s it? Only 200 mana?” It didn’t really seem like a lot, but then again Stemmy had said that it was at least 1,000 times more potent than Progen’s own. So, if that was the case, it was more like 200,000 mana – which was certainly quite a bit more than Progen could produce. It also put in perspective why absorbing 1,000,000 mana when he had formed the Hunter Crab to combat the Parasyte had been so detrimental to Marstin’s health; sure, the mana was there in the form of the body’s life essence, but it wasn’t extra – and was 5 times Marstin’s current mana pool. Back then, though, a million mana was probably 10 to 20 times the body’s natural mana pool, because Marstin had become stronger since that time.

Again, these are approximate numbers, but I believe they are fairly accurate.

Progen mentally shrugged, taking the information as correct – or as close to correct as could be. Regardless of their accuracy, it was plain to see that Marstin knew his mana was regenerating, because there was another sudden emptying of magical energy from the mind into the body, centered around the right arm.

“Perfect! That will make this so much faster!” Of course, Marstin still had no idea what he was doing with his mana – he was just shoving it somewhere without knowledge of how to direct it. It was no matter to Progen, however, because he was happy enough to take control and direct the mana so that it sped up the healing process – especially since the intent to heal was there. In fact, since the mana was only directed to “heal”, he was able to spread the mana not only through the arm, but the torso area as well, healing the contusions and minor injuries there from the initial impact with a…Caribou Mimic?

Thankfully, since Marstin hadn’t been completely full of mana when the healing started, the surge of magical energy didn’t overwhelm the body, and the healing was easily managed not only with the original flood of mana, but additional mana that was constantly being fed into it. “Obviously, he can learn how to constantly feed his regenerating mana into an effect; now we just need to teach him not to send it all at once.”

It was frustrating, to say the least – but until Progen could do something about it, the situation was necessary. At least the repairs throughout his host would be accomplished at some point within the next 12 hours or so, if not sooner; without Marstin’s mana, it could’ve taken up to 3 or 4 days for a full rehabilitation.

Marstin has acquired a monster core from a snow wolf. It appears as if you will be able to continue the process tonight.

Progen didn’t need Stemmy to explain what “process” he was talking about, because it was something that had been ongoing for the last 11 weeks or so. Ever since the dungeon crystal had learned about the growth hormones that he now had access to, it had been his mission to improve the body, not only in terms of skeletal height, but in other beneficial ways. There had only been one relatively major stumbling block that was discovered not too soon after he had perused his new available hormones.

It wasn’t the mana cost, though, because while he had access to just about every hormone that the body could naturally produce, most of them were relatively inexpensive.

Hormone Clusters

Adrenaline – 2 Mana

ACTH – 1 Mana

Aldosterone – 1 Mana

Angiotensin – 1 Mana

AMH – 1 Mana

Calcitonin – 2 Mana

Cholecystokinin – 1 Mana

Cortisol – 4 Mana

DHEA – 1 Mana

Dihydrotestosterone – 2 Mana

Erythropoietin – 1 Mana

Gastrin – 1 Mana

Ghrelin – 5 Mana

Glucagon – 1 Mana

Growth Hormone – 5 Mana

Insulin – 2 Mana

Kisspeptin – 1 Mana

Leptin – 1 Mana

LH – 1 Mana

MSH – 1 Mana

Melatonin – 2 Mana

Norepinephrine – 3 Mana

Oxytocin – 2 Mana

Parathyroid – 1 Mana

Peptide YY – 1 Mana

Prostaglandin – 1 Mana

Relaxin – 1 Mana

Serotonin – 3 Mana

Somatostatin – 1 Mana

Testosterone – 2 Mana

Triiodothyronine – 1 Mana

Thyroxine – 1 Mana

Vitamin D – 2 Mana

No, it wasn’t the mana cost, since the most expensive cluster of hormones cost a whopping 5 mana – a relatively inexpensive amount for what they could do. Each cluster of hormones amounted to somewhere between 500 to 1,000 individual hormones, so Progen could have hundreds of thousands of them quite easily. Therefore, if it were just a matter of creating Growth Hormones in an effort to make Marstin bigger, taller, stronger, and better able to survive the situations he seemed to be involved in as of late, Progen’s host would’ve been 20 feet tall with enough muscles to rip a rock golem in half with his bare hands. Unfortunately, something else was needed.

“I wish there were another way to speed the process up, but at least we’re making some headway. These monster cores are supplying the necessary material, of course, but with such low potency, it seems like each one provides significantly less than the one before.”

That’s because the body needs more material the larger it gets. When you spread it out among everything that needs to be grown – from bone structure, muscle mass, tendon and ligament lengthening and reinforcement, blood vessel expansion, nerve integration, and dermal grafting – the material is used up quite rapidly.

Progen harrumphed internally, agreeing but not liking it. “I know, I know; I just thought it would be much easier.”

When Stemmy had first mentioned the Growth Hormone, Progen had thought that it would be as simple as sending the hormone out into the body with the express purpose of making the entire thing grow. It just wasn’t that simple, though, because the body needed resources in which to do that. Normally, the growth of any sort of multi-cellular organism needed both time and material in which to become larger; children and adolescent animals did not just eat food for sustenance and energy, but they also converted those nutrients into the building blocks required to grow.

Eventually, they stopped growing at some point, their bodies hitting the preprogrammed maturity level that resided within their very cells, as growth plates inside of the bones fused together, limiting their size to whatever it was when the growth stopped. This was what Stemmy assumed happened to Marstin in his previous life as a thief living on the streets; malnutrition as well as some side-effects of the Blood Curse had limited his growth at an age where he should’ve been growing substantially more. With everything “growth-wise” shut down, Marstin wasn’t going to get any larger, even with the growth hormone flooding his body – they were generally incapable of carrying out its intended purpose.

Hence, the monster cores.

They contained everything that was needed, all in one tiny package. The energy inside of the cores, once it was released inside of the body, temporarily re-initialized the growth process. Normally, monster cores in the wild were used by Adventurers and those associated with them to create enhanced or enchanted items such as weapons and armor, with them being absorbed during the process – adding to the items themselves in one way or another.

In the wild, a beast consuming the core of another beast allowed them to become slightly larger and stronger over time, though there was a limit depending on the type of beast they were. The ingested core was absorbed by the core inside of the victorious beast, adding to the potential for them to grow larger and more dangerous. This was the reason it wouldn’t work for Adventurers, though, because they didn’t have a monster core to absorb and utilize the energy within.

While Progen wasn’t a monster core, obviously, he could still perform the same function on Marstin’s body. All he had to do was use his mana to break down the core itself, releasing the energy within to initialize the growth process. The core also provided the necessary materials inherent in its physical structure which the body needed in order to grow, adding to the cells all around the body. The dungeon crystal had to assist with the breakdown of these cores, however, because they were too resilient for the body to easily break apart; they were nearly the equivalent to Marstin eating a rock or a sphere of glass.

Once the energy that restarted the growth process was released, the materials were broken down and absorbed by the body for use in that process, and Growth Hormones were created and released throughout the body by Progen, the process worked remarkably smoothly. Evenly spread through almost every system, the materials were rapidly utilized to provide the production of brand-new, previously non-existent cells, adding on to what was already there in order to become more. Sure, cells died and were replaced constantly throughout the body, but they generally already existed in those locations; these cells, on the other hand, were new.

“It’s like adding to the actual mountain where my dungeon is located,” Progen equated the growth of the body. “I doubt that many dungeon crystals could do that.”

Good analogy. You are doubtless correct.

Progen didn’t wait patiently while the growth process was underway, however. As the new cells were created at a rapid pace and before they were solidified in place, the crystal infused his mana within them at a fundamental level, strengthening the bonds between the cells to become greater than they would’ve been normally. Whether it was bone, muscle tissue, or blood vessels, their structure became stronger and much more resilient against external impacts, meaning that they would require more force before they were broken or torn. It was something that was easy enough for him to do during their initial creation; doing the same to existing cells was much more difficult, but not impossible.

More than anything, it was slow, and he could only enhance very small sections at a time, so as not to upset the natural balance of cells throughout the body. It could take years for him to permanently affect his entire dungeon, which was why Marstin was still sustaining significant damage to his body, such as his recently broken arm.

As usual, I’m manipulating olfactory and gustatory senses, as well as pumping the Ghrelin hormone through the bloodstream in order to enhance the body’s hunger. It shouldn’t be long now.

Stemmy was right. Within a few minutes of his manipulations, designed to make the snow wolf monster core appear more desirable to ingest, the core was swallowed, dropping down into the stomach. Creating thousands of Growth Hormones and releasing them throughout the body, Progen got to work cracking open the core and breaking it down.

“Looks like we’re going to grow a little bit more than I thought, Stemmy – this monster core is larger than the last.”

That is good news.

Yes, good news, indeed.

Chapter 7

Marstin’s eyes shot open with the first rays of sunshine that came through his window. He leaned up from the bed and stretched, finishing off with a good yawn as he reluctantly exited the comforting warmth of the blankets and moved his sluggish body over to the bathroom. A few attempts at washing his mouth later, Marstin became aware of his arm’s continued limpness. His right arm was no longer broken, thankfully, but his hand was unable to open and close properly around things. Thankfully, his ambidextrous training allowed him to use his left without too much issue, though Marstin couldn’t help but feel awkward operating with a single hand.

After that, it was time for armor and weapon maintenance. This essential part of the adventuring lifestyle, and the thief lifestyle, had long since been integrated into his daily life, though the second-in-command of the Thieves’ Guild, Burch, had only emphasized weapon maintenance because, in his words, “No point maintaining your crappy armor. Best if you keep it crappy so you die faster if you get hit. What, you don’t want to die? Then don’t get hit, you little bastard!” Marstin still winced at the memory of that particularly cruel beating.

One of Marstin’s new adventuring friends, Marcus of the adventuring group Red Family, had been the one to teach him how to best keep armor maintained. It had been 5 months ago now, when the Red Family had requested his help dealing with a trapped crypt in the mountains. Marcus had noticed a few holes in Marstin’s specially bought armor from the adventuring depot, his first real set after returning the rented enchanted armor and asked why the boy had not repaired them. Marcus had snorted at Marstin’s answer.

“Listen to me, Marstin,” the older, giant of a man had said. “Training to not get hit is good; but expecting to never get hit is just pure arrogance. Even if you have terrible armor, its job is to make sure you stay alive, and that’s a two-way agreement. You take care of it, and it will take care of you.” Of course, the moment had veered off course once his sister Shane got involved, and the two had taken to squabbling over the preferred way to maintain armor even as Marcus’ wife Linda patiently showed him how to keep the leather oiled, when to sew holes together, when to patch it with other material, and how to best ensure sweat didn’t degrade the enchantments hidden within the armor.

So now every morning, Marstin would take his weapons and the armor he took off the previous day and inspect them in the new morning sun. Any nicks in the blades were sharpened away on the whetstone, the shaft leather was tightened and oiled, any holes or cuts in the leather sewed up with either normal thread or enchanted thread depending on the location, and finally, a quick wash with the leftover bath water removed any grime and dirt.

By the time Marstin was done, it was almost time for breakfast. Leaving his armor to dry out, he strapped on his daggers and adventurer bag and headed out to the tavern at the base of the inn. He managed to grab an empty table and ordered the daily special from one of the waitresses wandering around, as well as his standard side dish; a covered plate of shine fish eyes and a tier 1 monster core he subtly slipped in with the eyes. A warm mug of winterberry juice and a plate of smashed potatoes and ham were soon placed in front of him, as well as a covered dish. Marstin enjoyed the meal, taking his time to savor each bite while also sneakily eating the side dish when he thought no one was looking. His belly full and satisfied, he made his way back to his room, where the tub of dirty water had been removed, and put his armor back on. His daily routine done, Marstin headed for the front door of the Stargazer Inn.

Before he could reach it, however, he was summoned by the hooded figure at the receptionist desk. He almost missed it on his way out, but the hooded figure’s quick head bobs had finally attracted his attention. Marstin walked over, curious.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is there a problem with my lodging?”

The hooded figure shook its head and handed over the informal quest list to the young man. A gloved hand and arm appeared out of the darkness of its sleeves and tapped one of the quests.

“You need me to do this quest?” Marstin asked, an odd look on his face. The informal quests of the Stargazer Inn were normally voluntary, after all, and also weren’t advertised to the residents. Yolna had told Marstin before that she was unable to make formal requests to the Adventurer’s Guild for a reason, creating the informal list as a means to attract help from residents she viewed as capable. He’d never heard of an adventurer being summoned for one before

The hooded figure nodded.

“Can anyone else do this quest?” he asked carefully. Inwardly, he calculated his schedule over the coming days. Beyond some routine tasks, he did have the time for an additional quest, even if he’d been hoping to take a small break to conduct some more familial research.

The hooded figure shook its head.

Marstin sighed and tapped the table as he read the quest title more closely. The paper on the clipboard held a number of quest titles, but the hooded figure was indicating one at the very bottom, the most recent addition. The title was ‘Retrieve a Small Chest’, the time by which the quest needed to be completed was listed as ‘As Soon As Possible’, and the reward was listed as ‘Variable’. In other words, Yolna hadn’t settled on the reward yet, but she needed it done quickly.

“Can I see the explanation?” Marstin asked. The hooded figure retrieved the clipboard and extended with the same hand from its sleeves a single piece of paper, which Marstin read over. The quest, as expected, was from Yolna herself and required someone to retrieve for her a small chest from the basement.

“The basement?” Marstin muttered to himself. “That place where the giants rats live?” The most frequent task from Yolna was indeed rat extermination on a weekly basis, though no one Marstin had talked to understood where the vermin came from or how they even survived down there. Evidently, more than just rats lurked below the Stargazer Inn. “Why can’t she get it herself?”

The hooded figure offered no further explanation, only tapping the paper with a sense of urgency.

“Okay, I can get this done after I take care of a few things,” Marstin agreed, rubbing his head awkwardly as he considered how he would tell Kyra’s father Olen. The single parent was never pleased when Kyra went out on spontaneous quests, especially when he brought them to her. Maybe he could do it alone.

“She was going to take some time off as well,” he muttered as he walked away from the receptionist desk, exchanging a goodbye nod with the hooded figure. “So, I guess I shouldn’t tell her.” Marstin nodded in agreement with himself as he walked down the room. “Right, it’s an urgent task just for me, no need to bother Kyra with it. Besides, retrieving a small chest shouldn’t be too hard for me to do. Honestly sounds a bit like thievery-- I mean ‘item retrieval,’ anyway.” He held up his hand to block the sunlight as he exited the inn, taking a moment to get used to the outside light before walking briskly toward the central plaza.

With the quieter morning streets, it only took Marstin a few minutes to reach his destination. The steps leading up to the Adventurer’s Guild were as pristine as ever, gleaming despite the hundreds of feet that walked upon it each day, as Marstin entered the large building. Inside, the guild was the usual level of boisterous and crowded, despite the early morning hour. To the right, the long series of receptionists’ stands stretched from the front of the guild to the back, with at least half occupied by adventurers asking questions or turning in quest reports. To the left, the simple tavern and its varieties of spirits and other drinks. Ahead, the huge open space filled with tables of all kinds: long cafeteria tables, round, party size tables, two-person square tables, and many others. Finally, at the far end, he noted the stretched-out request wall, filled with papers about all kinds of quests from every wake of life in Graniton, and the staircase leading up to the second level.

“Marstin, over here!” he heard Kyra’s voice out of the bustle of the room. He looked over to see her waving at him from a receptionist station, with another familiar face sitting across from her. Marstin walked over to join the two.

“Good morning, Kyra,” he greeted. “Good morning, Sue. How is business this morning.”

“It is as slow as ever this early,” said Sue, the receptionist. “Kyra was just handing her portion of the Caribou Mimic proofs to me. May I check yours, as well?”

Marstin reached into his adventurer’s bag and pulled out the monster cores and antlers harvested from the monsters. Sue accepted them and began to inspect them with her magical tools. Marstin considered the young woman before him.

After the incident 6 months ago, Marstin had been faced with some level of awkwardness within the guild. After all, Ghevin had spread the magically enhanced rumor of Marstin’s preference for crime within the guild, resulting in many former acquaintances turning against him, as well as the many who did not know him personally. It came to a head after an adventurer picked a fight with Marstin, and he was blamed for it by everyone, including the then-temporary leader of the guild, Barklin, the head receptionist at the time. In the end, Marstin stormed out after leaving some heated and logical reproach behind. Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps an effect of the blue aura at the time, but Barklin had been unnerved enough to contact the guild master, setting into motion the rest of the incident.

As a result, many adventurers had felt the need to stay out of Marstin’s way for a variety of reasons: Some were regretful, some viewed him cautiously, and others somehow came to the conclusion that he was to blame for some reason or another. The management of the guild was worse, especially Barklin who had nearly been a friend to Marstin before Ghevin. The head receptionist had resigned in shame and retired from the guild to take on a more behind-the-scenes role for the guild master, with Barklin’s former job taken over by Sue.

Sue was a lady in her late twenties who had come to Graniton from the main Adventurer Guild branch, located in Iora, with the guild master. She was short compared to most Istutian women, with paler skin and fewer muscles, indicative of her international origin. However, her calm, polite, and kind nature had won over most of the guild, not to mention her administrative talents on par with her predecessor. Her popularity only grew after she single-handedly beat and ejected an entire party of drunk adventurers from the guild with her bare hands, capturing the hearts of the Istutian men who valued strength in their women and earning the respect of the lady adventurers.

Today, she was wearing the standard receptionist uniform of brown pants, official white shirt, and brown sweater opened for a small amount of cleavage, and her own addition, a brown beret that sat comfortably on the long, brown hair which framed her face.

Marstin winced as he felt a small pinch in his side, and he gave Kyra a questioning look. The older teen gave him a sweet smile he didn’t understand.

“I have confirmed the authenticity of the remains,” Sue said, looking back up at the duo with a smile. “The 5 Caribou Cores and antlers are accepted as proof of the quest’s completion. The reward of 4 silver pieces is here, please check.” She handed over the 4 small silver coins to Kyra and Marstin, who pocketed them in their money bags. “On behalf of the city of Graniton, I thank you for making the lives of the citizens safer.” She got up and bowed, leaving the two teens slightly embarrassed. A simple extermination was treated as an act of humanitarianism; only Sue could accomplish this act of gratitude without sounding sarcastic.

Bidding their farewell to the receptionist, the duo of adventurers left the guild and headed for the adjacent depot building. The Adventurer’s Supply Depot was where adventurers went to stock up on supplies, turn in monster corpses in the dismantling yard around the back, or buy magical items, armor, and weapons. The salespeople of the depot were notoriously helpful to the point of infamy. They always seemed to know what you needed, even if you didn’t, and most adventurers walked away from the depot bewildered, less wealthy and with more things on hand than they had planned on having.

“Ah, young sir Marstin and lady Kyra, welcome back to the depot,” a smooth and welcoming voice called out to the two as they entered. “Come come, I have quite the assortment for you today.”

Marstin’s eyebrow twitched as he approached the dark-skinned, incredibly friendly Elijah the clerk. The tall man was giving them a wide, white-toothed smile as his palms were raised welcomingly towards the two young adventurers.

“Good morning, Mr. Elijah,” Kyra greeted politely.

“Now now,” Elijah wagged his finger at her. “I’ve told you before there’s no need for respectful honorifics here. We are all good friends, and good friends take care of each other. For instance, I heard a rumor that someone was looking for some honey bear glaze?” With a graceful, practiced flourish, the clerk’s hand went under the counter and pulled out a large glass jar of golden orange heavy liquid. “The finest honey bear glaze in the depot, and likely all of Graniton. Freshly harvested and purified from a honey bear of no less than 10 gallons in size, taste guaranteed. Due to the number of honey bears recently harvested, we are offering a special price of 3 jars for 1 silver piece.”

Marstin’s eyebrow twitched more fiercely, but he managed to keep a somewhat straight face as he felt Kyra’s stare burning a hole in his head. “Do you have any wooly steaks available?” he asked.

“Ah, I see you really messed up this time, ay Marstin?’ the clerk said with an infuriating wink. “Well, you are in luck. We recently had two turned in by a local farmer as they had begun to monsterize, so what part would you like?”

“Ribeye and strip,” Kyra answered sweetly to Marstin’s chagrin.

“That’ll be another silver piece,” Elijah said in response.

“Were they butchered today?” Kyra asked, suddenly entering negotiation mode.

Marstin tuned out the two beginning their haggling on the price; he personally had no patience for the art of the deal, as his instincts leaned more toward the ‘liberating’ side of item acquisition despite his push toward leaving the life behind, and to be honest his counting ability was heavily regressed from a lack of education, which had ceased following his 7th or 8th birthday. Not enough to impact daily life, but he certainly would never take a job that involved math beyond the basics. Thankfully, the Adventurer’s Guild had a strict honesty policy when it came to such matters, as a good number of adventurers had less than proficient abilities when it came to reading and writing.

A quick inspection of the surroundings failed to reveal anything new; the depot shelves were filled with a variety of goods and items marked with prices or offers, and the best things were on display in protective glass containers.

Sensing the conversation winding down, Marstin turned back to the clerk. “Elijah, can I add some monster repellent to the order as well. ‘Rodent and other vermin’ variety please.”

“Ah, an extermination quest, is it?” Elijah nodded in understanding. “No problem. Perfume bottles of smoke bombs?”

Marstin considered. “Smoke bombs. I still have general repellent from the special order from before.”

Elijah gave Marstin a happy smile. “I’ll throw in a set of 5 smoke bombs for 50 copper. Is there anything else you require? Perhaps you would like to rent the Shadowgazer Armor again? Or buy it? Your armor appears to be becoming a bit worn.”

“Not at this time,” Marstin shook his head, with Kyra echoing his sentiments. “Maybe after a few more quests.” The young teen handed over the 2 silver pieces, with Kyra having knocked a half silver off the steaks through intense negotiation and having received a simple bag to hold the goods. Saying goodbye to the clerk, Marstin followed Kyra out of the store and toward the bakery.

“Monster repellent?” Kyra looked back at him with a question in her eyes. “Have you decided on the next quest? I thought the plan was to take a break for a few days.”

“Something came up at the Inn,” Marstin explained. “I need to take care of something in the basement for Yolna. I figured having repellent would be good for an escape plan.”

“Do you need any help from me?” Kyra asked.

Marstin shook his head. “I just have to retrieve something for her, so it shouldn’t take too long. And the only enemy I’m aware of down there are the giant rats, tier 1. Nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle alone. You should enjoy your break. Besides, I don’t wish to justify to your father again about another unexpected quest.”

“Yeah, father can be quite intimidating when it comes to my safety,” Kyra nodded with a pained smile. “Just for the caribou mimic quest he had me read four books on their habits and lifestyle. It comes in handy for preparation, but I also wish he would allow me to make my own preparations. I’m not a little child anymore.”

“That’s for sure,” Marstin nodded.

“Huh?” Kyra asked, an oddly dangerous gleam in her eye as she turned to stare at Marstin.

The boy felt confused. “What? You aren’t a child, right?”

Kyra grunted and increased her pace from a casual walk to a brisk walk. Marstin hurried to follow her, once again observing the increasingly fickleness of his companion. Was it something he said?

The bakery was in full bustle as the two arrived, with the opening hours having just begun and the long line of townspeople and adventurers moving swiftly through. Marstin couldn’t help but marvel at the change, with the bakery having grown highly successful in the past year. He still remembered getting thrown out as a bread thief, and back then the business was much more modest. The young adventurer had once brought up the question to Olen, but the man had profusely denied giving Marstin any explanation, to the point of using his rarely seen intimidating aura to inform Marstin to drop the line of questioning. However, Marstin couldn’t help but notice the bakery’s rise in success mirroring his own, with Kyra finally confirming that Marstin’s endorsement of the bakery to his fellow adventurers was the source of the bakery’s rise, and that her father was too embarrassed to admit it.

Marstin and Kyra bypassed the crowded entrance to enter through the back door, entering the warm and busy kitchen. Olen Risenflour was there, hard at work making and baking new bread loaves while the hired help took care of business up front.

As a retired Istutian adventurer with a long record, Olen was a giant of a man even compared to the standard Istutian. Even retired with a baker’s belly, Marstin had no doubt the bulging muscles in his arms were mirrored throughout the rest of his body. With short brown hair, a hard and chiseled face, and a somewhat perpetual ‘almost frown’ on his face, Olen was a hard man to talk to when he was concentrating. Especially when his massive meaty hands were crushing dough thick enough to strangle men without any problem.

Upon seeing Kyra and Marstin walk in, however, the frown turned into a small smile as he greeted them, his hands continuing to knead the dough without pause.

“Welcome back, you two,” he said in his somewhat rough, yet polite voice. “Were you able to buy what you needed?”

“Even better,” Kyra said with a smile, taking the bag from Marstin and taking out its contents. “We were able to get 3 jars of honey glaze for you to make your special rolls. And the steaks for lunch.”

Olen gave the jars a quick once over before nodding. “Good,” he said. “This means I’ll be able to run a special tomorrow for the extra special sweet rolls. Marstin, will you be joining us for lunch today?”

“Not today,” Marstin shook his head. “I need to go take care of a task first. Maybe dinner?”

“Dinner should be okay,” Olen said thoughtfully. “After all, I seem to recall my daughter saying you also owed her a drink of her choosing? Don’t think that stuff from Stargazer is good enough for my little girl.”

Marstin clicked his tongue in annoyance. He’d forgotten that fact already.

“Come back after business hours and I’ll have cooked the meat for dinner,” Olen said dryly with a chuckle as he began to partition the dough into spheres. “Try to not forget the drinks either. My daughter is not one to forget what she’s owed, as I’m sure you’re aware, so bring some Icebobber or Fire Whiskey.”

Kyra pouted at her father before taking the jars and meat away to properly store. Olen waited for her to leave before turning his gaze back to Marstin, gaining a harder look that caused Marstin to reflexively wince.

“Marstin,” Olen began as he separated the dough out into pieces to be baked. “I don’t know about the veracity of what I’ve been hearing, but rumors have begun regarding a great trial.”

“A trial? The adventuring kind or the legal kind?” Marstin asked, confused.

“The legal kind,” Olen rumbled, his hands picking up the tray of bread dough and placing it into the waiting oven. “It seems the acts of Ghevin Drestice will finally be put under the public scrutiny of the Istutian High Court. The word circulating among my ingredient peddlers seems to indicate that a great number of important people have begun to make moves in preparation. You should be on the lookout.”

“For what, danger?” Marstin asked, his body settling into its familiar, cautious stance.

“Perhaps,” Olen said non-committedly. “As the key witness to Ghevin’s madness, I have no doubt that someone or multiple people will have an interest in your words being spoken or lost. It might be worth extending your break from adventuring outside the town for a week.”

“I’ll consider it,” Marstin said in response. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Mm,” Olen grunted as he removed a hot plate of freshly baked bread from another oven. “Just take care. It wouldn’t do for you to make my little girl cry again over your injuries. But I understand the call of adventure. Just do your best.

“Oh,” Olen remembered a moment later, “I hear you used it again. Anything change from the last time?”

“No, nothing has changed,” Marstin shook his head.

“Keep an eye on it,” Olen let out a final warning. “Untrained power is the most dangerous kind of strength there is.”

Marstin nodded and waved goodbye to Kyra, who had put on a baker’s apron, as he left the bakery, heading back to the Stargazer Inn. It would appear that he had some things to dwell on during the quest.

Before he left the backyard of the bakery, however, he suddenly heard Kyra shout his name. He turned and reflexively caught a small necklace she’d thrown at him. He looked down, noting a tiny silver dagger on the thin strip of smooth leather. He raised his eyes and gave Kyra a questioning look.

“Keep it as a token,” Kyra winked at him from the doorway. “I ordered it from Elijah awhile ago, and it was delivered while we were out. Good luck with your day!”

Chapter 8

Having picked up some meat skewers from one of the stalls along the way, Marstin munched on the exotically cooked gecko-on-a-stick as he returned to the Stargazer Inn. He made sure to finish his snack before entering, pulling out a more traditional meat skewer to enjoy as he walked over to the hooded figure at the receptionist desk.

‘Munch, munch’, “Okay, here’s the payment for the next few weeks,” Marstin said between bites, handing over a silver piece to the hooded figure, who pocketed it without a word. “Now, how do I get to the basement? And is there a map to where this chest is?”

In response, the ever-silent receptionist reached down below the desk and stealthily slid the young adventurer a keycard and a simple map. A quick glance over the two items confirmed that this keycard was of a different color than the normal room key, and the map was laughably simple, to the point where one would assume a child had drawn it. It literally had a ‘start here’ and ‘end here’ marked at the bottom and top of the map respectively, and a line that connected the two with precarious sharp turns and curves along the way. There were no other markings on the ‘map’, including no landmarks, potential dangers, or safe areas.

Marstin felt his eyebrow twitching as he read the map for a second time, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Any chance you have a … more thorough map?”

Maybe it was just Marstin, but the hooded figure somehow seemed disheartened, though it did little more than turn slightly to the left. The figure reluctantly retrieved the ‘map’, only to pull out a pen and place an ‘X’ at the end of the map before handing it back.

“Thanks…” Marstin mumbled as he took the newly ‘improved’ piece of paper. “How do I get down to the basement?”

The hooded figure pointed to the magical winding staircase without additional comment. Rolling his eyes, Marstin turned and left, taking the magical stairs further down into the inn.

This was Marstin’s first time going towards the basement of the Stargazer Inn. He had never been really interested in the rat extermination quest before, so he was a little curious what the basement of such a magical place would be like. As his head went below the ground-level floor of the lobby, the atmosphere of the staircase seemed to change. Unlike the wide open and bright upper levels, the lower levels were much darker and claustrophobic, the only light the occasional torch by which the stair would wind. There weren’t any floors onto which to disembark., and Marstin couldn’t help but shiver as the temperature grew colder. Not Istut winter cold, but a darker and more mental cold, the feeling of entering the ‘belly of the beast’, so to speak. The feeling somewhat reminded him of the time he’d entered the golem dungeon with the Red Family adventurer group, only the feeling was less ‘organic’ and ‘natural’ and instead more . . . ‘artificial’.

The faint glow of the keycard alerted Marstin to the approach of his destination. Sure enough, the winding stair soon wound, offering a view of a room with several doors. Marstin hopped off the stair, noting that the descending stair actually continued into the ground as if it were an illusion, which a quick tap of the foot confirmed was not true. Marstin took a moment to marvel at the magic at work before turning his attention back to the key card in his hand. Similar to his room card, this small piece of indeterminate material had a stronger glow when it was moved closer to one of the doors.

“I suppose that means I go that way,” Marstin said aloud as he looked at the rightmost door, or rather the door to his right. There wasn’t much in the room by which to orient himself, even with his trained directional senses, likely due to the nature of the space-defying environment.

“I wonder how I’m supposed to find my way back,” Marstin suddenly realized, hesitating from taking a further step. A bit of doubt couldn’t help but arise in his mind; even if he managed to find his way with the map, that didn’t necessarily mean it could be used to return the same way. And suppose he got lost; the Stargazer Inn was not well known for being straightforward with those finding themselves in places where they did not belong.

“Perhaps this quest is too much for you,” a familiar, yet significantly more sinister voice rang out in his ear. “Why not give up while you’re still safe and sound?”

Marstin scowled as a shadowy figure appeared at the edge of his vision, a ghostly and legless reddish figure that hovered just out of range of his vision no matter how he turned his head. “I told you, get out of my head!”

“Oh Marstin, I’ve told you, you can’t just shut yourself away,” the voice mocked with an amused chuckle. “Don’t ignore your instincts, isn’t that your number one rule? So don’t ignore me.”

“You aren’t anything to me,” Marstin growled, forcing himself to take another step toward the door. “You’re nothing but my inner demons taking form. My trauma given form. An annoyance more than anything else.”

“I’m the closest being in the world to you, Marstin,” the voice echoed, slowly fading from view as its voice grew fainter. “When you were at your lowest, I was there for you. Never forget that. You can’t escape your fate without me.”

Marstin snorted as the figure vanished. The internal entity that had once been his inner pessimism and self-loathing had become far more active ever since the defeat of Ghevin, almost as though it had been galvanized by the incident. The young boy wasn’t sure why, but conversations with the guild master suggested that the thing was a mental representation of his year’s long trauma. Evidently, many retired soldiers and adventurers would often report similar episodes, and there wasn’t a singular cure beyond the combination of time and rest.

As Marstin had neither, he was forced to deal with his ‘silent’ demon all on his own.

Shaking off the incident, Marstin refocused on the task at hand. The door before him was a standard door for the inn, with its wooden frame illuminated by the glowing keycard. Fingering the arrow necklace around his neck, Marstin decided to put his trust in Yolna’s request, despite his misgivings. After all, he owed her that much, and he always repaid his debts.

The door handle opened easily, revealing a long hallway without any doors and lit by evenly spaced torches along the wall. A quick glance down at the map confirmed the first part of the continuous line was straight, followed by a sharp corner to the right.

Marstin took out a dagger from his belt and took cautious steps into the hall. His steps were calm and measured, sensitively searching for any surfaces that were uneven or weak that possibly could serve as the triggers for traps. About halfway down the hallway, his foot paused over a floorboard that didn’t instantly respond to his weight. He backed up at once and got onto his knees to inspect it carefully. The two-by-four piece of wood was smoothly polished alongside the other boards, but this one suspiciously didn’t appear to have any nails on the closer end to him. Marstin looked around the immediate area. There were no arrow slits, ceiling holes, gas nozzles, or any other typical signs of a trap. Perhaps it was a pitfall, or maybe a giant boulder would appear at the other end of the hall.

As Marstin considered the floorboard, there was a sudden, audible click as the square section of floor he was kneeling on descended a fraction of an inch. Marstin’s eyebrow twitched as he realized he’d been tricked.

He barely stopped himself from reflexively calling upon stage 2, which would have put him in danger if activated too early. A quick scan confirmed nothing appeared to be happening, except that the keycard in his pocket was glowing strongly. Experimentally, Marstin stood up and walked forward, deliberately stepping on the other floorboard. It clicked under his weight, but nothing happened to him. However, the square behind him suddenly glowed with a magical glyph and vanished.

“A teleportation trap,” Marstin said with a strong sense of respect. “Yolna is truly talented to be able to create one of those. But why didn’t it activate when I was on it?”

He checked; the keycard was no longer glowing. The floorboard he was standing on turned out to be fake as well. As the piece fell together in Marstin’s head, his respect and admiration for Yolna’s craftiness only grew.

“This board is a fake trap,” he said, standing up and brushing himself off. “It’s meant to be found by a skilled thief type of adventurer and to be analyzed at a safer distance. The real trap, the glyph, will only activate after enough weight is applied to it for a period of time. Maybe the companions walk up to the thief to get a better look, maybe the thief takes too long to overthink the problem, like me. Either way, they get teleported somewhere else and off the right path. It’s a trap made with the habits of skilled adventurers in mind.”

The young adventurer shook his head. If the rest of the Stargazer Inn was designed as so, its security likely rivaled the royal palace in the capital. Thankfully, the keycard seemed to disable the traps for him; otherwise Marstin would already have been lost.

Chuckling morosely, he took another step forward, only to be met with another click from the floor. As Marstin’s face blanched, a trap door in the ceiling opened up and dropped a pie on his head. The young man stood awkwardly as the gooey filling of sweet berry pie oozed down his hair and face. He slowly raised his finger to a drop and scooped it into his mouth. It was warm, freshly made. His eyes looked down; the keycard was not glowing.

“A trap within a trap, within another trap,” he finally muttered. “Will the entire journey be like this?”

The quick answer, as it turned out, was yes. Despite Marstin’s many years of thievery experience and a year of adventuring experience, he finally understood what it meant to be ‘arrogant’ and how wrong he’d been with his initial thoughts.

While the keycard ensured that Marstin was not subjected to any true danger, the sheer flummoxing level of humiliating traps, counter traps, and triple traps put Marstin through his own version of training hell, as if this entire labyrinth had been designed with him in mind.

The pie, at least, had tasted good. A few times, Marstin had barely been able to dodge literal manure-filled pitfalls, pig feed catapults, and even illusions of caribou droppings being swung in a net at him. Beyond that, he’d been splattered into cushioned walls by a comically large cloth-covered hammer, violently poked by covered-tip spears all over, tripped by magically invisible tripwire he wasn’t even strong enough to trigger, drenched in warm water, and even blasted with wind into the ceiling. And this was with him being able to discover and avoid maybe a fourth of the traps he encountered.

Despite being in no actual danger, Marstin could compare his feeling of alertness to only a few other times in life. Every flicker on the wall from the torches made him flinch, and he barely took a single step before analyzing the immediate surrounding environment with his body poised to roll, slide, or leap away at the first unexpected sound. He was wound up so tight, Marstin didn’t realize at first that he’d reached the end of the map.

The small, hand-sized chest sat on a pedestal in the middle of the room. There were no other significant features of the room beyond the standard torches giving off light. Marstin paranoidly examined every board, nail, and support anyway before walking over to the box. He didn’t hesitate in nabbing the box and running toward the exit at full sprint, even preparing to summon up stage 3 at the first sign of trouble. Of course, this meant he had very little time to slow down when a magic portal opened up right in front of him, and the poor, screaming boy tripped and stumbled through as he attempted to stop himself. The portal vanished after engulfing the young man, leaving a silent room behind. The pedestal glowed softly as the torches extinguished themselves, revealing a hidden, crystal-lit luster in the dark.

Marstin continued to scream as he rolled through the magic portal, popping out suddenly and hitting his head against the floor with a groan. He rolled over quickly and jumped to his feet, daggers waving to deal with the immediate threat, only to find himself in the middle of the Stargazer Inn tavern, surrounded by the questioning looks of the other patrons. They appeared to all be in the middle of eating and drinking.

Marstin wasn’t fooled. The floor he’d hit smelled like vermin, and the food on the tables was different from the special he’d had earlier. In a single fluid motion, he dropped the small chest into his adventurer’s bag and pulled out a smoke bomb, activating it as it fell and filling the room with smelly smoke. The angry cries of rats alerted him that his instinct had been right, and he listened to the sound of scurrying across the floor. His daggers flashed as he threw them, the pain-filled cries of his targets confirming his accuracy. He didn’t stop, taking out and throwing out daggers like a windmill towards every sound in the room.

By the time he ran out of throwing daggers, Marstin was breathing heavily, and the smoke had begun to dissipate. However, there wasn’t a single sign of a rat around him, only his daggers sticking out of the wood. Marstin frowned, and felt irritation growing with him at the situation.

“What is this? A trap?” He growled out angrily. “Come out here and fight me! I won’t die so easily!”

“Silly child,” a voice answered him as the room began to visually distort around him. “This is not where you’ll die today. That day is far off, fate willing.”

Marstin relaxed as the kindly figure of Yolna Gyver appeared in front of him, sitting behind an unfamiliar desk. The room they were in was also unfamiliar to Marstin, but it appeared to be an office of some kind within the Stargazer Inn, judging by the visible familiar building materials.

Yolna appeared to be the same as the last time Marstin had seen her. Even sitting, it was clear she stood as tall as a normal non-Istutian man, with a thin, but not lanky, body dressed today in a soft, sky-blue dress with glittering stars sewn into it. Her skin tone was a darker pale than one would expect from a continent elf, evidence of her partly human ancestry, as were her ears, which were only slightly pointed, as opposed to completely pointed. Her face was covered in soft features, with warm, brown eyes, a pointed nose with a rounded tip, thin lips that were normally curved into a small and wide smile, and long, shining, deep-brown hair that was wrapped in braids that changed style daily. Her true age remained visibly unknown, as she was a rare half-elf who aged at a pace much slower than that of a typical human. She was currently giving Marstin a small smile.

“I take it you did not enjoy my little errand,” she asked with a chuckle.

“Not particularly,” Marstin said, retrieving his daggers, noting that the ones he’d thought he’d thrown in Yolna’s direction were all lined up in front of her desk in a straight line. “It makes me wonder if this was less of an errand and more of a practical joke really.”

“Adventuring is no joke.” Yolna said suddenly, her smile gone as she turned serious. “You might be feeling humiliated, disgraced, angry at me, but at least you’re still alive. Had that been a true dungeon, you would have died at the first trap, not to mention the many others you failed to avoid after.”

“So, it was a test,” Marstin grunted. “Is it fine for me to feel at least a little dissatisfied?”

“There are times information for quests is incomplete or incorrect, but the responsibility is on the adventurer once they accept the quest, no matter what their feelings are.” Yolna shook her head. “And candidly, I am truly unable to retrieve the chest. For certain reasons, I was entrusted with it, to hold onto it and to return it later if possible, or to use it for an emergency if I could not. As part of the spell protecting it, neither I nor anyone else could retrieve it. Only you are able to.”

Marstin blinked. He considered the possibilities and compared them to what he knew of Yolna, leading him to a startling question. “Is this related to my family?”

Yolna’s eye twitched for the faintest of moments. “The chest, please Marstin.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Marstin countered, feeling the day’s frustration rising up in combination with the anger of being unable to speak with her for months. “And you’ve been avoiding my questions ever since the funeral, haven’t you!”

“I can’t say,” Yolna said, her hand reaching out towards him. “Marstin, the chest, please.” A strange emotion could be seen in her eyes, one Marstin couldn’t immediately recognize.

“Why give it to her if it’s your family’s? After all that work, and she offers you nothing,” the voice returned as the edge of Marstin’s vision turned red. “Maybe she thinks you don’t deserve it; that you’re not strong enough. Prove her wrong, you are strong! You’ve never been stronger!”

Marstin couldn’t see it, but a very faint red glow had begun to spread across his eyes. Yolna noticed, and her eyes faintly narrowed in response, but said nothing. She only kept her arm out, pleading to him, her hand waiting.

Preparing to fight, wanting to fight, Marstin called upon stage 1 to augment his legs for speed. However, strangely, not only did the blue aura fail to be summoned, but the voice in his head also seemed to vanish. His eyes lost the redness of anger, and suddenly Marstin could read the emotion in Yolna’s eyes.

It was grief.

He shook his head quickly and looked at Yolna’s outstretched hand. It looked so lonely, especially the dull ring upon it he had never noticed before. There was some kind of insignia upon it, one that was oddly familiar.

Marstin sighed. His hand reached into his adventurer’s bag and pulled out the small chest. He gazed at its simple form for a single moment before handing it over to Yolna. She received it gracefully and pulled it close to her bosom, giving it an affectionate look. She opened it, bathing her face in a faint, starlight glow for a faint moment before shutting it silently.

“Thank you, Marstin,” she faintly whispered.

Marstin crossed his arms. “Can you tell me anything?”

Yolna looked up at him with a faint, warm smile. “The map you followed was along a route designed by myself, with my husband. The basement was designed initially as our training ground, with a door for each original category of adventurer: fighter, magic user, scout, and healer. What you experienced today, you’d find in an A rank dungeon, or perhaps some place equally dangerous. Instead of finding fault in yourself, why not look upon the victories you made instead?

“We will talk more, when the time comes,” Yolna suddenly said, and before Marstin could respond she waved her hand, causing Marstin’s surroundings to distort. “Oh and do thank my little one for its help with the map. They all worked hard on it for me, it especially.”

Marstin blinked and found himself standing in front of the receptionist desk, the hooded figure standing in front of him. It tilted its head in greeting and held out a gloved hand. The young man, taking a few moments to orient himself and to process the information he’d been given, mindlessly handed over the keycard to the basement and the map, though he did take a moment to use the nearby pen to put a ‘check mark’ on the map’s bottom corner. The hooded figure’s head tilted down toward the map and looked at the check mark, before turning away in a somehow bashful maneuver. The unusual movement caused a part of its neck to become visible for the faintest moment, revealing stony skin before the hooded figure returned to normal.

Marstin took in the sight without comment and wordlessly wandered out of the inn with barely a wave of goodbye. The sun was already moving toward its setting, signaling he’d been working for more than several hours now. Marstin grudgingly made his way over to a liquor store and placed a delivery order of Fire Whiskey to be delivered to the Risenflour Bakery immediately, not feeling like sharing a meal anymore. Instead, the young man began to wander toward the southern slums, and the dead tree located at the center, his base of operations. He couldn’t stay in the inn with his mind so filled with questions. Only this place could serve for contemplation.

The clearing he entered was different from the one six months ago. The dead tree still stood, but the abandoned house next to it had been shoddily rebuilt into something that resembled a child’s imagination of a fortress, with the sign ‘Rogue’ above the doorway. Two urchins were standing guard at the entrance, trying to look intimidating with their folded arms and glares, but mostly looking rather cute with their slingshots holstered and their daggers sheathed.

They perked up at the sight of Marstin and stood up straighter. “Welcome back, boss!” they greeted in a practiced motion.

Marstin waved at them and entered the building, revealing a more properly built room that descended into a space larger than expected. Within, tables and chairs were set on the upper level, while various dummies and targets were on the lower level, the floor covered in wood to prevent worm monsters from bursting out. The urchin members of Marstin’s group ‘Rogue’ were scattered around: practicing with weapons, being taught by older urchins the basics of education, eating bread and drinking water, or discussing operations at the main table. Even Marstin’s fugue state wasn’t enough to stop the tingle of pride at the sight.

In only 5 months, Marstin and the urchins had forged Rogue into a fairly reliable organization, formed among the urchins and the poor of Graniton. As an organized group, Rogue was able to take on menial tasks that no one else wanted to do, such as cleaning the streets, sewers, or chimneys during winter and growing their reputation for reliability. Even though the work was terrible, the collective effort of the group had ensured that not a single urchin died of cold so far this winter, as the crew was able to feed its members and give them a warm place to sleep. They’d even won several turf wars with adult gangs in the slums, earning their right to exist through strength in numbers and tactics utilizing their smaller size to out-maneuver the larger adults.

They’d even forged an alliance with the beggars, trading food for information Rogue could use to complete or find tasks.

“Boss, o’er ‘ere!” The broken words ringing in the air were those of Archie, the leader of the urchins and Marstin’s trusted companion. Marstin looked over to the younger boy, waving him over with a happy smile.

“What brought ya here today, boss?” Archie asked curiously after Marstin approached. “Not a training day, is it?”

“No, just needed a place to think,” Marstin admitted, taking a seat and sighing. “Didn’t expect to be handed so much information in a single sitting.”

“Ya found more about ya family, boss?” Archie asked curiously.

“Maybe,” Marstin admitted. “Certainly, a connection at least, but still is a stone wall for now. I think Graniton has been exhausted for sources of information.”

“Aye, likely so boss,” Archie nodded as if he understood. The urchin boy then gave Marstin a toothy grin. “Well, how’s about I tell ya something gud then, aye boss? We got the deal with the guard!”

“The trash delivery was approved?” Marstin asked, startled.

“Aye,” Archie nodded eagerly. “We let them talk us down, course, but we’re still gonna earn more bronze pieces than we’d planned. All’s we gotta do is collect the trash from the houses and drop ‘em off at the pile outside the city twice a week, and we get paid twice a month. Some of ‘a boys are eager to get started to search for trash treasure but won’t be another week ‘til we can start.”

“Good job,” Marstin said, patting Archie on the shoulder. “This is good. Another source of income for food, and unlimited access to the city’s trash. Were they any issues with the Iron Gang?”

“They stayin’ quiet for now boss,” Archie scowled. “But the whisperins be saying they aren’t much happy about us succeeding. They’s be claiming we be stealing their idea, but ever’one knows they’d never think of it before we did. Just jealous they are.”

“True, but a weak person with a treasure invites envy and greed,” Marstin cautioned. “Ask the beggars to keep an ear out for their movements. We might outnumber them in skirmishes, but if they come here full-force, we’ll be in trouble. They are adults, after all, and the guards won’t care too much so long as the work gets done. If they attack while I’m out on a mission, then things could get dicey for you all.”

Archie snorted. “We’ll be alright boss. You know-”

A loud knock echoed through the room, causing everyone to freeze. With a whistle from Archie, the urchins of Rogue mobilized and fled through hidden trapdoors, wall panels, or climbed up through the ceiling. A moment later, Marstin was left sitting at the table alone in the room. He picked an abandoned mug of water and sipped it, his other hand hovering above a throwing knife..

“Who is it?” he called out evenly.

“Messenger boss!” came the voice of one of the guards. “Adventurer’s Guild!”

Marstin raised an eyebrow and stood up, walking to the entrance and stepping outside.

“Adventurer Marstin,” greeted a receptionist from the guild Marstin didn’t recognize. “The guild master needs to see you. It’s urgent.”

Chapter 9

Marstin didn’t waste any time departing the southern slum and racing to the Adventurer’s Guild, leaving the receptionist far behind. The young adventurer knew very well the guild master did not mince words when it came to these kinds of things. If the need was urgent, then the situation was serious. He maneuvered through the throngs of people in the central plaza of Graniton and ascended the stairs hurriedly into the guild building.

“Welcome back, adventurer Marstin,” Sue greeted him at the door with her smile. “Please follow me to the guild master’s office.” She led him down the right side of the guild hall and up the staircase to the familiar door of the guild master’s office. She knocked politely and stepped out of Marstin’s way.

“Enter!” a loud, brash voice came from inside. Sue opened the door for Marstin and closed it behind him once the young man had entered. Marstin found himself once again inside the clean and organized office of the Adventurer’s Guild guild master. There waiting for the young man behind his desk sat the pensive- looking guild master himself, a large man whose bulging-muscle physique could overshadow any man or woman in the guild. Today, however, his devil tail was visibly twitching back and forth from stress, and his nose sat on top of folded hands in front of his face. His eyes rose up to meet Marstin’s.

“Welcome, boy. Come and sit with me,” he beckoned, getting up and walking over to the two couches in front of the desk that faced each other. The guild master sat on one side, and Marstin mirrored his actions on the other.

“No tea today?” Marstin asked, noting the unprepared cupboard at the back. He could not help but lick his lips at the thought of snowberry tea.

“Not today, unfortunately,” the guild master said sadly. “‘Tis a shame, but we don’t have the luxury of time right now. I have just received the official word from the main branch of the Adventurer’s Guild in Iora summoning you to the high court of Istut as a witness. The trial regarding the events related to Ghevin Drestice is to commence, and you are a key person for the proceedings.”

Marstin took a deep breath as his fingers gingerly gripped the couch. “How serious of trouble am I in?”

“Officially, none,” the guild master said, his face not relaxing toward his own words. “You are not under any charge of crime, nor is there any intention of seeing you harmed. In fact, your protection was emphasized to be of highest priority. A small detachment of royal guards has already arrived for the journey to serve as escorts, apparently. They haven’t bothered to announce themselves, as usual.” The guild master snorted, having evidently dealt with the group before.

“And unofficially?” Marstin pressed.

“They’ve sent the royal guards,” the guild master said matter-of-factly. “That might not mean much to you, but it’s very significant to those of us who have dealt with them before. The Queen’s Royal Guards are her most elite force, responsible for her personal protection and information gathering. They are trained not only as a frontal fighting force, but also as assassins in the dark. If they have been sent here to protect you, then you can expect there to be trouble on the way to the capital.”

“Killing me after I’ve been summoned doesn’t make as much sense as killing me silently before the affair becomes public knowledge,” Marstin pointed out.

“Correct,” the guild master agreed, “However, that’s under the assumption that the trial had been kept secret. By the time the royal investigators from 3 months ago arrived, your safety was all but assured thanks to the Queen spreading the news of the incident.”

“What?” Marstin blinked. “Wait, what do you mean when you say spreading news?”

“I agreed it best to not to tell you back then, to keep you from thinking too much about it,” the guild master nodded with a self-satisfied smile, his arms crossed. “Though I can’t help but wonder about your sense of personal worth. Do you think just anyone could stop Ghevin Drestice? At that stage of his plan? And with the town mostly turned against you? What you experienced, not many can claim to have done so. And those behind Ghevin would certainly want to keep you silent. The existence of the public trial was the only thing keeping them away from you, because an assassination of someone so well connected to demonic mind magic would certainly attract the attention of our neighboring countries.”

Now it was Marstin’s turn to drop his head into his hands and groan. “So, you’re telling me,” Marstin summarized, “is that for the past three months, my actions have been spread through the capital, and that is what’s protecting me?”

“Well, that, and,” the guild master’s face suddenly seemed to break his stoic façade to reveal a cheeky look desperately trying to hide itself, “that the news actually painted you as the Hero of Graniton, the one who single-handedly rescued the populace from evil. Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“NO!” Marstin coughed violently as he choked on the scream that threatened to escape him. “Hero? I have no desire to be that! And what ‘single-handedly’ saving the town? That’s an exaggeration!”

“Well, that’s the break for heroes,” the guild master chuckled. “Right, where was I? The urgency and seriousness of the situation, ahem.” The large man turned stern again. “Mm, so the time for the trial has begun. Your escort has arrived, and you’ll be leaving within the hour… or rather the minute. Thankfully you travel light already, so we didn’t feel the need to contact the Stargazer Inn to request important belongings.”

“Wait, what?” Marstin’s head shot back up. “I’m leaving? I’m not prepared for a trip to the capital! My clothes-”

“New clothes will be bought for you at the capital. I doubt you own a set of official clothes anyway,” the guild master interjected.

Marstin could only gape open-mouthed like a fish. “My food?”

“As a witness, you are allotted a food allowance, as well as meals provided during the journey,” the guild master answered, standing up and brushing his knees.

“My inn bill?”

“The Stargazer Inn will be compensated for unpaid days owed by you until the day after you return. The bill for the inn at Iora will be covered by the Crown,” the guild master gestured for Marstin to get up and follow him.

“My companions?” Marstin ventured as he followed the guild master over to the large window overlooking the street behind the guild building.

“Until you return, your merry little band of street urchins will have their base protected by Phil and Larry, the gate guards. The Istutian Polar Tribe members are not expected to return before the trial is over. Your companion Kyra is being notified as we speak,” the guild master answered fluidly as he opened the window. “Now, I believe that’s everything, so off you go. As I said, time is of the utmost importance. It’s a five-day journey to Iora with an escort. Good luck.”

“What do you- AHHHHH!” Marstin began before he was hoisted up by the neck and back of his pants and thrown unceremoniously out of the window, two stories in the air. He screamed as the guild master waved him a pleasant goodbye, his limbs flailing as he spun uncontrollably while descending. Before hitting the ground, as Marstin shut his eyes, he felt several strong arms grabbing his limbs while his head impacted an incredibly soft pillow. His eyes opened just in time to see several well-armored women in leather holding him before they tossed him inside an inconspicuous horse-drawn carriage, pillow included. He landed on a softer-than-expected floor and heard the door shut behind him before he could react. The next thing he knew, the carriage was in motion and he was on his way.

Marstin blinked and looked up into the soft smile of Sue, though she appeared to be dressed in a magically glowing set of tight leather armor.

“Good afternoon, sir Marstin,” she greeted. “Allow me to introduce myself again. My name is Sue. I am a Vice-Commander of the Royal Guard and an adventurer receptionist. I will be in charge of your safety during this trip, as well as in charge of managing your schedule while in Iora. I hope to maintain a harmonious relationship with you during this time, so please inform me if you have any needs or desires.”

Marstin could only blink at Sue’s innocent expression.

“Do this often?” he finally managed to ask.

“Oh no, certainly not,” Sue giggled girlishly, though somehow it came off as sinister instead of relaxing. “Normally I’m called with corpse disposal. It has been some time since I retrieved a living asset.”

Under the intense situation, with the plentitude of knowledge he’d learned that day, and the intense pain from the failed traps coursing through his body, Marstin promptly fainted, leaving Sue slightly flustered. As the carriage left Graniton without incident, a charming voice was heard gasping in shock. The hidden royal guards were confused as the sounds of angry cursing could be heard from within, cursing the guild master for his need for theatrics.

*       *       *

A slight bit of growing happened overnight, as well as the continued healing of the broken bone – though that was nearly done with. It still had some finishing touches to accomplish, and while that was going on Progen had Stemmy continue to mute a lot of the pain signals coming from nerve endings in the area. This resulted in a partial incapacitation of movement in the joints and likely a numbness in the entire arm, but it was better that Marstin not mess up Progen’s work with exaggerated movement.

Within a few minutes of his host being up and around, the last of the healing was completed. Stemmy began to describe Marstin’s daily ritual of maintaining his weapons and armor, but Progen largely ignored it – he’d heard it quite a few times before. Soon enough, Marstin was done and obtaining sustenance down below in the strange inn in which he resided, about which the dungeon crystal was happy. Monitoring the levels of nutrients throughout the body, Progen had noticed an extreme reduction in the normal amounts; it wasn’t surprising, though, because healing a body – even through magical means – tended to expend those nutrients just as quickly.

Regardless, the foodstuff that Marstin shoveled into his body would go a long way in replacing those vital nutrients that were extracted in the digestive tract. Progen’s mana infusing the entire system also increased the quantity of nutrients gathered from the contributions, leaving very little in the way of waste. It was an efficient process, and almost every single fiber of food that was ingested was used to its fullest, both as normal maintenance of the body in general and to provide for sufficient caloric energy needed to keep his host alive.

“Another quest? Didn’t he just finish one?” Progen complained. The dungeon crystal was a little perturbed because Marstin had just come back from a quest that had left him injured; while he was near-fully recovered by that point, quests usually meant that there was some likelihood of additional injuries. “It’s almost like this host is masochistic or something.” Throwing himself into danger at every opportunity seemed highly unnecessary to Progen, but then again, the crystal had more of a mind to defend rather than attack.

This quest appears to be quite simple, and Marstin does not seem to be too worried about anything other than some rats. An “easy fetch job”, or so he is saying.

“I guess we can live with that,” Progen conceded. “Rat bites are full of nasty pathogens, but they usually don’t cause that much damage that has to be repaired.” That was a good thing, because the body was starting to reach its equilibrium after having so much healing applied to it lately.

Another point in Progen’s favor: The quest didn’t start right away. His host made a few stops after accepting the quest, joining up with the same female that had accompanied him on the last, near-disastrous quest.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about something that I’ve noticed, but I hadn’t really been able to before this,” the dungeon crystal mentioned to his assistant. “Now that we have a little time, and with my relatively recent exposure to hormones, I can’t help but notice a significant increase in certain ones whenever this female is around. Those in turn seem to affect the body in strange ways, such as a rapid increase in blood pressure through a rapidly beating heart and a ‘loosening’ of muscle contractions. Is this female some sort of mage different from what we’ve seen before?”

It certainly was strange, though Progen had to admit that it wasn’t necessarily detrimental to the body in general—just odd. The first few times when he had total control over the body (or as much of the body as he could), he thought at first that something was thoroughly wrong and had Stemmy pass on commands through the neural network to calm things down. It turned out not to be necessary, as things went back to normal after a moment without any harm, but it kept happening whenever this female was around.

I believe it is simply a result of dopamine and norepinephrine hormones in the brain, which result in a change in the body’s normal rhythms, including a tangential activation of the natural “fight or flight” response.

“Ok…but why is this happening in the first place?” Progen asked impatiently. “Is Marstin afraid of this female and looking to run?” He hadn’t seen any dopamine and norepinephrine hormones raging through the body, but if they were contained within the brain, that obviously made sense. As a result, he only saw the waves of organ-regulating hormones that were emitted after whatever happened in the brain – yet another reason why he wanted to reach the area where the Blood Curse was hiding.

Just the opposite; I believe there is some attraction and romantic interest between our host and this female.

That wasn’t what Progen had been expecting. “Attraction? Oh, you mean toward the purpose of mating and procreation? Is that what all of this nonsense is?”

Affirmative.

“Seems unnecessarily complicated, messy, and detrimental to Marstin’s health,” the dungeon crystal complained. Progen liked things as controllable and predictable as possible, but if such a thing as attraction to a different member of his host’s species caused normal functions to become out of control, the dungeon crystal didn’t like it. Regardless, until he had control of the brain – and, in turn, the entire body – there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The next few hours were used by his host to complete some menial tasks, before Marstin obtained more sustenance. By that time, equilibrium had been achieved with the necessary nutrients absorbed through the digestive tract, but the additional protein-based snack was definitely going to help sustain the body through another quest – even if it didn’t prove to be as simple as Stemmy made it out to seem.

“Whoa! What is this place?” Progen had always felt a general aura of strangeness whenever Marstin visited the domicile he used for sleep and most meals; it wasn’t like anything he’d felt before, but it also didn’t necessarily feel threatening. There was a definite miasma of magical essence constantly in touch with the outside skin of his host, permeating the very air of the “Inn”, but it was not in the least harmful as far as he could tell.

Now, though, shortly after Marstin began his new quest, the feeling changed. There was definitely a sense of danger in the magic-riddled atmosphere, though it wasn’t specifically directed toward Progen’s host body.

“It almost feels like this whole place is some sort of dungeon, though unlike any that I seem to know about. This feels more natural, as if this place were…alive, perhaps? Almost like the upper levels are its safe outer body; down here, though, feels like crawling inside of its teeth-filled maw.” That was as accurate of a feeling as Progen could put into words, and it worked as well as anything else.

An apt description. I can detect the pressure of this energy through the dermal nerve endings, and I have to agree with you. Very strange.

It turned out that there was danger, just as the dungeon crystal had thought; within a short time after Marstin’s arrival, he ended up stepping on a floorboard that *clicked*, activating something potentially deadly. “Stemmy! Open up the senses to nearly full – we don’t need him dying to some stupid trap!”

While dungeons didn’t have a monopoly in trap-making, Progen felt offended that someone – or something – else was utilizing traps like he normally would. It would be an embarrassment if his host ended up getting severely hurt by something so simple.

Done. While utilizing his senses may allow him to identify potential hazards, it will not help increase his knowledge of what to actually look for—

There was a sudden impact against the left arm of Marstin.

—like that, for instance.

Thankfully, the first few traps that Progen’s host managed not to identify in time were relatively harmless, with some just splattering him with something odorous (which caused Stemmy to have to reduce the olfactory senses a bit) or sticky, but there were others that sent him sprawling. After the initial third of the room, however, the situation started to become a little more dangerous – but not dangerous enough for Marstin to utilize his mana, though Progen could somehow sense he was right on the edge. Harder impacts caused multiple sub-dermal contusions, lacerations aplenty from narrowly avoiding sharp projectiles, and even a fractured foot bone from something slamming into the lower right appendage.

The dungeon crystal closed off the deep cuts into Marstin’s skin and fused the small fracture in the smallest metatarsal bone in the right foot, but the rest of his mana was held in reserve until he was able to see if it was needed somewhere else. By the end of the room, Progen could see for himself that Marstin’s body was beaten, bruised, and exhausted; he started the slow process of repairing certain sections with more depth, but it was almost as though every body part was injured in some way. Not enough to debilitate Progen’s host as a whole, but enough to make recovery a longer affair.

The location has suddenly changed. Marstin’s heightened senses have detected an anomaly—

There was a quick burst of bodily action as Stemmy described a sudden battle against large rats that had an illusion camouflaging them as Adventurers. Luckily, the scent of their presence and subtle differences in the expected atmosphere allowed Marstin to detect these threats—which was exactly why Progen wanted all of the enhancements in the first place. They performed exactly the way they were supposed to.

The danger seems to have passed. Marstin is turning in the quest—

An abrupt change came over the entire body. A red aura seemed to emanate from the shield protecting the brain, and Progen felt a familiar malevolent force battering against his own senses.

“Stemmy, watch out for any threats!”

The dungeon crystal wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was going to be ready no matter what happened. His scouting groups of immune cells were on high alert, looking for anything out of the ordinary, while Progen was also actively searching for anything out of the ordinary, hoping he wouldn’t be too late in counteracting whatever the Blood Curse had in store.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how it was perceived), the body that was Progen’s dungeon didn’t seem to be the target: Something outside of the body was.

Progen, I’m detecting elevated levels of testosterone hormones, an increased tension in the blood vessels all throughout the body, and a rapid heart rate. In short, our host is becoming extremely angry; I think the Blood Curse is causing this.

“That’s not good; we have to put a stop to it.” Whatever the Blood Curse wanted couldn’t be beneficial for Marstin. There was also the mystery of how it was actually causing all of this, being confined to the brain as it was, but that was something to sort out at another time. “Start sending out communications to reduce—”

He was cut off in his orders as he felt Marstin’s mana start to emerge sluggishly from the brain, as if reluctant. It was also tinted slightly with reddish streaks compared to its usual vibrant blue, which immediately told Progen that something was wrong.

“Stemmy, we can’t allow him to use that mana!” he shouted, scrambling for a solution to a problem he never thought he’d encounter. For one, he wasn’t sure what utilizing Blood Curse-tainted mana on Marstin’s body would end up doing; for another, if using mana externally at that moment was the Curse’s plan, it probably wasn’t going to help Progen’s host. “I’m going to try something stupid, but I don’t think I have any other choice.”

He didn’t even bother to wait any more, because the mana was starting to spread further and further. With intense concentration, Progen utilized the 5,400 mana he had at his disposal to envelop the tainted energy spilling from the brain in a very thin net, designed to catch and contain everything he could see. Touching the red-streaked mana with his own felt a whole lot different than before; whereas it had previously felt like his own mana was merging with Marstin’s energy like a gentle stream combining with a raging river, this felt like his gentle stream was feeding into a river of lava.

It was literally painful to keep in contact with the corrupted energy, and he could feel some nigh-invisible cracks start to form on his crystal. Fortunately, he wasn’t planning on staying in contact long, because as soon as he was sure he had fully enveloped the sludge-like consistency of tainted mana, he contracted his net, pushing and squeezing the mana back into the brain. It only took a few moments before it was all back inside, made easier by the fact that it didn’t seem to want to leave in the first place.

Progen let everything go as soon as it was all past the barrier, and he was stunned at how horrid the mana had been as it was corrupted. He wasn’t sure what had set everything off, but it was something that he didn’t want to happen again. Looking over every part of the barrier to see if there was any more leakage, he was pleased to see that none seemed to be coming back out – which was a good thing, because his crystal couldn’t take any more at the moment.

Elevated testosterone levels are returning to normal, as well as the increased blood flow. The anger Marstin was experiencing is fading away.

Progen could sense the same thing, which was especially evident as the red aura disappeared around the barrier. Whatever danger there had been seemed to have been diffused – but it was close. Too close, and not an experience that Progen wanted to repeat.

His mana was completely empty after the episode, so repairs to the rest of the body’s injuries would have to wait until he regenerated some more. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as though Marstin had any more quests to complete at that moment, so he was able to get some of that done while his host went on a few easy errands.

Our host is about to be thrown out of a window. Adrenaline and cortisol hormones are now being pumped through the body in fear response.

“What—?”

Progen didn’t really have time to react as he experienced the sensation of air moving rapidly against Marstin’s skin in freefall, followed by the rough landing – which happened to exacerbate many of the small injuries that were still in the process of being healed. The pain was too much to block entirely, and the exhaustion and toll Progen’s host had undergone over the last day or so was enough to make Marstin pass out.

“Thank the Gods. I can finally get some stuff done, now.” So saying, he got to work.

Chapter 10

Marstin blinked as the morning light woke him, his body’s rhythm awakening him at his normal time. It took him a moment to process where he was exactly, as he didn’t immediately recall choosing to sleep on the floor, though at least he had a warm blanket over him and a comfy pillow under his head. The events of the previous day quickly played through his mind, making his head feel as if it had been hit by a great stampede of caribou. Marstin truly wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his situation.

“That darn muscular freak threw me off the second story again,” he muttered into the air. “I guess time really was of the essence.”

A small cough alerted Marstin that he wasn’t alone in the carriage. His eyes tilted back and caught the awkwardly apologetic look on Sue’s face. She coughed again, evidently speechless.

The two shared the awkwardness as the silence began to grow, interrupted solely by the occasional bump in the road.

“We weren’t actually in that much of a rush,” Sue finally said in a soft voice. “But the guild master insisted that things be done impulsively fast in order to throw off any would-be enemies. He even arranged for a body double to exit the guild and walk to the inn you stay at.”

“I see,” Marstin responded evenly. “So, he didn’t need to throw me out a second story window?”

“No,” Sue chuckled awkwardly. “But it’s a hobby of his. Though in his defense, I do not believe he realized how worn your body was.”

Marstin’s eyebrow twitched once again. In fact, he felt like his forehead was going to gain some strange wrinkles at the rate it kept twitching these past few days. He was able to maintain a stoic visage despite this, however.

“I thought his hobby was tea?” Marstin asked. “Since when was throwing people out a window a hobby?”

“It is, as well as sewing his own pants,” Sue scratched her cheek. “He got tired of pants never having a tail hole, so he does it himself now. The throwing I believe he picked up from his adventuring days. . .” She broke off and shut her mouth, indicating her desire to drop this line of conversation.

Marstin obliged her. “So, you’re not the new head receptionist then?”

“Oh, I was,” Sue corrected. “I was merely on loan, remember, from the main branch. Your guild master required my services while he searched for a permanent replacement. My being sent to Graniton was merely a single sword for two targets.”

“While I’m on this topic, allow me to express my apologies, sir Marstin,” Sue gave a familiar bow. “Though the guild master may have forced us to take a more abrupt exit, in the end we did require you to pause your life to come with us. Also, we treated you a bit more roughly than we should have, given the level of injuries you had sustained. Were you training earlier yesterday?”

“You could say that,” Marstin muttered as the frustrating memories of Yolna’s traps played through his mind. “Wait, yesterday? Was I out that long?”

“Yes,” Sue nodded. “We decided to ride through the night to best capitalize on our quick exit, and to take advantage of the time to heal your injuries. We did undress you to accomplish this, so if something is out of place, please let us know.”

Marstin leaped to his feet and began to pat himself down quickly. Thankfully, he found nothing missing. But this discovery did not relax him. He gave Sue an accusatory stare.

“I don’t appreciate being man-handled while unconscious,” he said sharply.

“Don’t worry, the royal guards here are all women,” Sue smiled. “And they are as polite as me when the occasion calls for it.”

“Not the point I’m making,” Marstin twitched. “And I’m not entirely sure whether that should make me feel better or worse.”

“We didn’t point and laugh, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sue said with an uncharacteristically devilish smile, causing Marstin to redden. She giggled at the sight. “You’ll need to grow some thicker skin, Marstin, especially now that you’re on your way to the capital. This kind of harassment is merely child’s play there. And we had to undress you to take your body measurements for clothes, anyway, so you being unconscious worked out for everyone.”

“You’re a lot more outgoing now than when you were a receptionist,” Marstin observed as he took a seat across from Sue, deciding to drop the topic. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it now, and being seen naked wasn’t a huge deal to adventurers anyway. Marstin just wasn’t used to it himself, and still felt self-conscious about his formerly malnourished and decrepit body.

“We are trained to match the situation at hand,” Sue explained, leaning back and relaxing herself. “A receptionist is meant to support and advise adventurers. There was the need to give the respect adventurers deserved to them in both my words and actions. Here, however, you’re under my protection. I cannot afford to waste time and attention on my manner while on duty, so while I may seem more relaxed, don’t be fooled. I’m currently maintaining a magical detection perimeter around the carriage to be alerted of any arrows that may come at you.”

“How long can you keep that going?” Marstin asked, curious.

“If it’s just that, I can keep it up until we stop for the night,” Sue winked at him. “My mana reserves are quite high after all. This is truly nothing to me.”

“Are you a magic user then?” Marstin asked, his inquisitive nature showing itself once more. “What type are you? Mage, sorcerer, wizard, maybe something more exotic?”

“If you must know, I am a defensive mage,” Sue said, waving her hand and causing a sphere of air to visibly form and dance around. “I’m surprised you understand the different magic user types. Most Istutians prefer more physical abilities, after all.”

“That didn’t cut it with Cheven and the Thieves’ Guild,” Marstin sighed. “He made sure to beat into me the differences so I would know how to react when getting caught stealing.”

“My sympathies,” Sue said, nodding sadly.

“Water under the bridge,” Marstin waved his hand. “So, wizards learn their magic from tomes and each draws from their own tomes to cast spells. Sorcerers call upon the ancestral blood within their heritage to cast magic. Mages utilize years of practice to cast their magic via spell circles or glyphs. Witches cast magic through hexes using the power of nature or demons as sacrifices. Druids wield the magic of nature through their bodies. Technomancers entwine their magic with technology but are limited without it. Elemental mages draw upon their elemental sphere of influence. And... hm. I always forget the last one.”

“Well, if you aren’t counting clerics, priests, and paladins, then you’re missing life mages,” Sue considered. “Hemomancers and healers. The former control magic related to the human body through blood, and the latter call upon magic to enhance the regenerative properties of the body. That’s quite impressive, that you know this despite your lack of formal education.”

“The difference between street savvy and academic training is knowing what you need to survive vs. knowing what you need to prosper,” Marstin shrugged. “So, a defensive mage. You must have trained for a very long time to reach your current abilities.”

“Indeed,” Sue confirmed. “But it was worth it in the end. Though the wizards and sorcerers who began training with me passed me by quickly in terms of strength, I managed to persevere and rise up with them. Taking so much time to advance for a mage allows us to create a much higher reserve of mana in our bodies, and also increases our passive magic resistance as well. My specialty in defensive magic increases my strength in defense as well, making my role as a ‘wall sponge’ a perfect fit for me. I can create force fields, extend my senses and reaction time, grow stone skin, meld with the ground, and even swim through the ground in emergencies.”

“That’s amazing,” Marstin said honestly. “And you’re only a vice-leader? How do you compare with the other vice-leaders, and the lead royal guard?”

“My peers each have their own specialty, so there is little point comparing my abilities to theirs,” Sue dismissed. “As for the leader? She is strong enough to break through my defenses in a single blow if she’s given the chance, or a minute if I’m cautious.”

“What’s your adventurer rank?” Marstin asked.

“I’m a receptionist, not an adventurer,” she reminded the young man. “But I suppose I’d be among high C rank or B rank adventurers with my abilities. If I develop some better attack and speed spells for my kit, then I have no doubt I’d have a chance to grow to A rank.”

“That’s way out of my league,” Marstin sighed and shook his head.

“For now, but that won’t be the case forever,” Sue gently reminded him. “You’re ranked F, but if you wanted to you could easily achieve rank E, and possibly rank D if you’re smart. And the records show you’re capable of fighting C rank adventurers for a limited time. That’s quite impressive compared to most other adventurers, and you’re still quite young. As long as you don’t die, I have no doubt you’ll achieve rank B at the very least someday. Maybe even S rank if you work hard.”

“S?” Marstin blinked in surprise. “Is that higher than A?”

“It is, and it is also the second to last adventuring rank,” Sue nodded. “The highest rank is X, but that isn’t even a level of strength worth discussing. As they say: C ranks can rule villages, B ranks can rule towns, A ranks can rule cities, S ranks can rule nations, and X ranks rule the world. I know of no one at that rank, and only one person who could be considered S rank.”

“Who?” Marstin asked eagerly.

“Well, the person who has requested you,” Sue winked at him. “Our dearly beloved Queen is equivalent in strength to an S rank. She managed to inherit the technomancer heritage from her husband, gods rest his soul, alongside her own innate ice sorcery abilities. So, don’t try anything funny around her when you meet her,” Sue wagged her finger at him, “because even if you don’t get pummeled by us, she would surely end your very existence.”

Marstin nodded his head quickly in understanding.

“Good,” Sue smiled at him. “Now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, we should discuss what’s going to happen during our journey, and what will happen once we arrive at Iora.”

The royal guard pulled out a hand-written list from a hidden pocket at her bosom and put on a pair of magical spectacles that glowed faintly with magical lines. From Marstin’s angle, the paper only had the word ‘List’ at the top and nothing else written.

“We’re already a day into our journey to Iora,” Sue began. “We got a half-day’s head start, followed by a full night of travel. This places us an entire day ahead of when we’re expected to arrive. During this time, you are allowed to do anything you’d like inside the carriage. If you need the bathroom, pull open the seat and sit inside.”

An experimental lift revealed a sitting area with a hole to the ground outside the carriage. There was enough head space to close the seat and hide oneself while doing one’s business, but Marstin still couldn’t stop a strange look from settling on his face.

“We will have a short stop for lunch every day,” Sue continued, nonplussed. “We will travel for an hour or so after sunset and then rest. Dinner will be simple, while breakfast will be suitably more complicated and varied. Feel free to speak with me when you wish to talk, or to ignore me if you wish for quiet.”

“Now, when we reach Iora,” Sue’s tone became noticeably more serious. “Things will begin to occur in rapid succession. You will be brought before the Queen for a quick, non-formal audience. She wishes to meet you herself before the trial begins. After that, you’ll be taken to your safe inn and left for the night. The following day, you’ll be fitted for attire suitable for the trial, and you will take part in a luncheon of dignitaries hosted by the Queen. The night will feature a lavish ball in honor of our international guests, hosted this time by Lord Albrec of House Swordsheld, with the Queen in attendance. The following day, the trial will begin, and you’ll be called in as witness. You’ll only need to give a short testimonial for that, and then another luncheon hosted by the prince.”

“Is that all?” Marstin asked weakly as he sank into his chair.

“That’s just the first two days,” Sue quickly reminded him. “The trial is expected to take at least several weeks, in which time you’ll be expected to show up when required and answer all given questions.”

“Why am I expected to take part in these political gatherings?” Marstin asked, somewhat flustered. “I’m just a former urchin.”

“The Queen has put out your image as a modern ‘hero,’ given your role in saving Graniton, and Istut, really. As such, dignitaries and nobles are curious about you and wish to interact with you for better or worse. You can’t avoid them without appearing arrogant, boorish, or simple, all of which could impact the trial. So, you’ll need to put on a good appearance for the sake of Istut’s safety. Which, by the way, includes your own personal safety and that of Graniton.”

“Suffer for appearances, got it,” Marstin sighed. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

“If I do my job right, there should be nothing else for you to worry about,” Sue said with a smile as she put away the spectacles and list. “But be prepared. Istut hasn’t had a ‘hero’ in many years, even if the title isn’t official yet.”

Marstin could only groan.

The rest of the day continued without incident, as the carriage and its escorts, visible and not, continued through the forests of the South toward Iora. Marstin quickly grew bored with the situation and took to watching the trees zoom past the window, his eyes locking on to every unique aspect they could find. Sue was sitting in a meditative pose, evidently focusing on her detection sphere. When they had lunch, it wasn’t particularly special either; a serving of quickly made potatoes and salt over fire magic, which dulled the taste to the guards, though not Marstin, who privately kept this information to himself. The rest of the day equally passed without incident, and finally the carriage pulled over in an alcove of trees for the night.

“No tent, I’m assuming,” Marstin asked.

“No need. The carriage is comfortable enough to sleep in, whether on floor or chair,” Sue said. Marstin couldn’t help but agree with her, and he took off his armor to prepare for sleep, only to be stopped by a gurgle from his stomach.

As if to answer his stomach’s request, a knock came from the door. Sue walked over and cast a defensive field over Marstin before opening it. Outside, a masked royal guard handed over 2 plates of meat and vegetables, the meal for the night. Sue accepted them and the door was shut. She turned around and handed Marstin a plate.

“Enjoy,” she said, before digging into her own food. Marstin quickly followed her example.

The food vanished into the ravenous mouths of the duo and the plates were collected by Sue, who knocked at the door, but not before casting another personal shield on Marstin.

The door opened again, revealing another masked guard. Marstin looked over, and the strangest feeling came over him. A faint aroma entered his nostril; nothing malicious but instead, familiar. The scent of sweat, but no subtle perfume. The masked guard reached out to accept the plates from Sue.

“Who’s he?” Marstin asked out loud, causing the two individuals exchanging plates to freeze. The masked guard reflexively tilted his head to look behind him, a signal.

Sue didn’t hesitate to smash the plates into the masked figure, causing him to groan.

“ENEMY ATTACK!” She roared out, causing the entire camp to erupt in a commotion. Sue slammed the door shut and leaped onto Marstin, knocking him to the ground. Several tings rang out, and Marstin saw several arrows bounce off of Sue, their magical glow fading even as the holes they’d punched through the carriage revealed scattered scenes of violence outside.

“Stay down!” Sue ordered, her eyes glowing a silver color as the shield around Marstin expanded to cover the entire carriage. Only when she was done did she quickly get up into a kneeling position, her hand still holding Marstin down. She scanned the scene through the arrow holes.

“They came prepared,” she muttered, her free hand rising and making various gestures while her eyes continued to glow. “Two of my guards are bleeding out, but I’ve stabilized them for now. Those arrows were mammoth downers, meant to puncture thick hide and ice magic. Judging by their looks, they’re winter bandits.”

“Winter bandits?” Marstin asked from the floor.

“Annoyingly deadly wanderers who rely on the winter season to travel beyond the Country of Devils,” Sue quickly explained, her fist suddenly clenching as a scream of pain echoed from outside the carriage. “They don’t trade with anyone, only steal and kill. They don’t even use human language for the most part, just hand signs. They’re essentially human-shaped monsters. Strange to find them here this time of year though, they should be closer to the order with the coming of winter’s end.”

Marstin called upon the blue aura to augment his eyes, causing them to grow numb even as his vision focused on the far fighting in the distance. The armor-clad royal guards were holding their own now that the element of surprise was lost, and this was made ever more clear as each fought with a faint grey shield around them that blocked unavoidable sneak attacks. The attackers were a mixed motley bunch of men wearing everything from loin-cloths to heavy armor and wielding many different types of weapons.

Sue suddenly clicked her tongue. “Damnations, they brought frozen zombies with them,” she muttered. Sue swiftly turned to look down at Marstin. “I need to leave the carriage to prevent the others from being killed by breath attacks. I’m locking the carriage with my best shield, so stay down and don’t move. I’ll only need a few moments. Understand?”

Marstin nodded quickly.

Sue threw out both hands and clenched, causing the air inside the carriage to shimmer even as she bolted out and closed the door behind her. Marstin heard the roaring cries of unknown monsters fighting in the distance. Being enclosed in the carriage, his line of sight suffered from the lack of information beyond the few holes in the wall. As the battle progressed, he continued to listen for any attacks that might reach him while staying completely still on the floor of the carriage.

Unfortunately, even his sensitive hearing wasn’t able to prevent a sharp pain from erupting in Marstin’s back, causing the young man to cry out. The shield within the carriage suddenly shifted, bringing Marstin off the ground and onto the seat as if he were being levitated. A sword was sticking out from the floor, having been forced through the reinforced metal and slicing across Marstin’s unprotected back. Fortuitously, piercing through metal debilitated the sword thrust; but it was enough to frighten Marstin.

“Sue! Enemies!” he shouted, even as the very air solidified around Marstin, forming an impenetrable barrier. From his new position, Marstin saw an enraged Sue running toward the carriage, only to be blocked by what appeared to be a statue made of ice. Sue’s form suddenly became covered in stone and grew in size, followed by a terrifying roar as Marstin lost sight of her.

He experimentally tried to move, discovering that the shield around him kept him in place. Unable to do anything else, Marstin focused on the sounds of battle, and the pain in his back. He strangely didn’t feel nervous about this attack, even though clearly his life was in danger. It was odd, but his senses didn’t seem to be indicating a fatal threat towards him.

While Marstin was pondering this, a sickening screech rang out from the carriage, causing him to wince. Then, a figure suddenly materialized in front of him, somehow growing from the hole in the ground in a way that gave Marstin’s eyes a headache. The masked figure didn’t hesitate and lashed out with an axe, only for the air shield to block it. The axe glowed green and was slashed out again, this time destroying the shield completely. The figure prepared to strike a third time, once more with the intention to kill.

Marstin, however, was ready, and as soon as the shield vanished, his body erupted with the power of stage 3, the blue aura allowing his dagger to slice clean through the startled assassin's neck, beheading him. He then quickly followed up with two daggers that flew out through the holes in the side, the dying groans echoing from the archers who shot the holes a far distance away. Finally, Marstin dropped a smoke bomb that completely obscured his view, but also hid his form. Utilizing this, he gripped a knife between his teeth and stealthily climbed into the ceiling and waited.

Sure enough, a second figure teleported into the carriage following a second loud screech, but he was caught by surprise when a dagger sank into his head from up above, driven in by Marstin’s full weight falling on it. Marstin retrieved the two axes from the fallen assassins and stored them away for later. The battle outside appeared to be winding down as well.

The door slammed open suddenly, allowing the smoke to quickly dissipate. Marstin forced himself to not throw his dagger at the sight of an uninjured Sue.

“Might want to reconsider your bodyguard abilities,” he said while indicating the two assassins on the ground.

Marstin didn’t get to hear her response before stage 3 abruptly ended, and the darkness of the void consumed him. His last sight was Sue’s worried look as she embraced his falling body, and he felt the warmth of blood and chill of armor mixing together like a lullaby of death.

Chapter 11

“Stemmy? What’s going on?”

The interneuron cell cluster had been keeping Progen up to date with their journey, especially after their host finally woke up from his healing sleep. Evidently, the Marstin was heading to the capital of the local country, though things like the geography of the world were relatively unimportant to Progen at that point. He couldn’t really control where his dungeon went, so he concentrated on doing what he could to maintain its health until he found a way to break through into the brain, if only to prevent something like what happened the day before from happening again.

If that was even possible, of course – but he wasn’t giving up just yet.

I’m not quite sure. There seems to be some sort of confusion as hints of ammonia and urea have been identified as sweat, but something is missing… and apparently it is a surprise attack by those that seem not to wish our host well.

“That’s not good. Keep me informed of any potential injuries, and I’ll route my mana there immediately. Also, make sure to feed this information to—never mind, Marstin had the same idea, obviously.” A massive flood of mana emerged from the brain and flooded into the body, and Progen read its intent immediately. Shunting a portion of it off to the senses in Marstin’s head, the rest of it was… just sitting there, without any other purpose.

“Stemmy, it seems as though my host wanted to be ready for anything, but has no specific intent other than to wait for instructions for the rest of this mana,” he warned his interneuron buddy.

That’s not an ideal situation. Prolonged exposure to the free mana will start to damage everything it is running through.

Progen was well aware. “I know! He better make up his mind soon, or his entire body is going to seize up from the feedback.” Progen watched worriedly as the large blob of blue-glowing mana diffused throughout the entire body without no express purpose. While it wouldn’t hurt anything at the moment to have the potent resource running through every system of the body, if nothing was done with it soon, it would start negatively affecting the epithelial cells throughout the body – from which almost everything was created, unfortunately. They would start to warp and then eventually dissolve, the pure energy from the mana too much for them. It would be like they were being dipped in a very mild acid; nearly harmless at first, but the more they were exposed to it, the worse it would become over time.

Marstin’s main protector has joined in on the defense; from what I can tell, the attackers seem to be intent on gaining access to our host.

Suddenly, there was a foreign object embedded in the lower thoracolumbar fascia muscle on the right side of the lower back that wasn’t too deep, though it fortunately didn’t puncture any important organs; nonetheless, it was a relatively serious wound that was bleeding profusely and need to be repaired quickly. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the blade that caused the injury was removed, and Progen could get to work.

Using fibrin net traps to help seal in the leaking blood near the surface, Progen started pumping mana into the area, concentrating on healing the damage done and replacing the cells that had been damaged at a rapid pace. It would probably take a few hours or so to heal it completely, but he was thankful that it wasn’t any more severe than it could’ve been.

An infusion of pathogens came inside with the wound, but Progen was expecting that. “Deploying 25% of my immune cell reserves to the location! Stemmy, could you please alert the body’s immune system of the danger, as well, if they haven’t been alerted already?”

Already done; you should have backup in a matter of minutes. I— There was silence for a moment, before Stemmy continued. Our host is still in danger; one of the attackers appeared from some sort of spatial void, and it attacked Marstin. There is a shield of air helping to protect him, but it won’t last long—prepare for an application of his mana!

Progen hadn’t heard Stemmy shout like that before, and it spurred him into action. Within a second of his communication, an intent was sent to the large diffusion of mana, and the dungeon crystal immediately initiated its intended purpose. Muscles, tendons, and ligaments in both arms, hands, legs, and feet were infused with the potent mana, strengthening some while adding large amounts of flexibility to others. Along with those parts of the body, the dungeon crystal also spread some around cartilage found in most joints, as well as a temporary enhancement to the bone structure in the legs. With stronger muscles came a need for stronger bones; otherwise, trying to jump could shatter limbs through the process alone.

In addition, mana was pushed out to a pair of knives that Marstin was wielding in his hands, which used up all of the available energy that his host had been keeping contained.

“That should be sufficient to prevent feedback, but this will thoroughly wipe him out afterwards,” Progen mentioned after swiftly directing all of the mana within a second of the intent being given. “Please tell me he has a plan this time.”

That is unknown. Wait—he just sliced his attacker's neck open and is preparing for an additional attacker.

Progen listened as Marstin used his enhanced agility and senses (courtesy of the enhancements Progen had directed) to wait in ambush for an additional attacker, before delivering the strike from an unexpected angle. After that, the fight was apparently over, with Marstin collapsing shortly thereafter due to the unrestrained use of mana throughout his body. Progen was just glad that Marstin hadn’t ended up hurting himself—

Spasms throughout multiple muscle groups interrupted the dungeon crystal’s thoughts. “Stemmy, what is this?! Stop them from doing that, or else they’re going to tear the wound back open!”

I cannot. It seems as though the mana running through his body was too potent and damaged the nerves in thousands of different sections, causing them to fire off nearly at random. I’m cutting off their access as soon as they are appearing, but without full control of the central nervous system, I cannot shut down everything.

“Do what you can, but I have more immediate problems to take care of.” While the muscle spasms might open up the wound again, there wasn’t anything that Progen could do that Stemmy wasn’t already trying to take care of. What he could do, however, was deal with something more on his level.

The pathogens – including what appeared to be bacteria, virions, and even some strange-looking parasites – were already trying to establish themselves in the body. Unlike when Marstin had been stabbed in his stomach and practically disemboweled, Progen’s forces, as well as the body’s natural immune system, were more than up to the task.

The bacteria was unusual in the fact that they were much larger than he normally saw lately, as well as being more numerous. Most of them were nearly as large as one of Progen’s Newts, covered with short flagella all over their forms, looking like some strange type of sunburst. They were a bit more violent, as well, tearing into the Newts sent after them with their tiny tendrils; it took 3 or 4 swarming Newts just to take a single one out – and there were thousands of them. Thankfully, despite being more difficult to kill, they were nowhere near as deadly as the bacteria the Blood Curse had enhanced. With his much greater forces, along with the body’s immune system, the bacteria were quickly contained around the wound and were picked off by a deluge of Newts they couldn’t hope to handle.

The virions from some sort of virus appeared and immediately started to spread through the bloodstream where it had infiltrated, but Progen was also ready for that. Working with the Reporters, Historians, Commanders, Veteran Killers, Seekers, and Assassins from his scouting groups (while the Newts that normally accompanied them had their figurative hands full of bacteria), he quickly got to hunting down the infected cells. Thankfully, the virions hadn’t traveled far from the initial wound site, as they had infiltrated nearby cells as soon as they could in order to start replicating, so they were easy to both locate and destroy. In addition, just like the bacteria, they weren’t enhanced by the blood curse, meaning that not even a single cell had produced enough virions to burst apart to spread before they were all eliminated; the speed of replication was normal, which meant it was anywhere between 8 and 72 hours, unlike the minutes in which that Blood Curse-enhanced viruses could multiply.

The dozen or so parasites, small larvae that floundered around while chewing on epithelial cells as a means of sustenance, were a far cry from the Parasyte that Progen had fought approximately half a year ago. They were relatively small in comparison, though they were also multi-celled organisms that were much larger than any other pathogens he needed to deal with. Fortunately, the body’s immune system had built itself back up to optimized levels, which meant that it had thousands of Hunters to start hunting and killing the parasites before they could cause too much damage.

While they held the line, Progen used the influx of mana gained from killing the bacteria and virions that had invaded to create tens of thousands of Shadow Hunters, a combination of the basic Hunter and the Insidious Virus that had proven at least slightly effective against the Parasyte. While they were smaller, they were also inexpensive to produce, meaning that the dungeon crystal could produce them rapidly and on-site of the parasitic presence, providing an almost constant barrage of immune cells.

The wound tore open a few times with all of the ongoing muscle spasms, but Progen continued to repair just enough that blood loss was kept to a minimum and very few pathogens were allowed inside. Suddenly, a gentle aura of bright-white light appeared around the external edges and the torn muscle of the internal wound, bathing it in a healing energy. It took a while, but eventually the serious injury was healed to the point where it was practically non-existent, with all of the damaged cells replaced by the magical effects of whoever had healed it from the outside. Well, other than the pathogens, which were still present – but it meant that Progen could concentrate on those alone without having to repair the body.

I am not able to see who did the healing, but from the auditory signals, I deduce that one of Marstin’s defenders is also a healer of some sort.

“Thanks, Stemmy; let me know if anything else changes that I should know about.” Watching the immune cells fight, he knew that everything was going to be alright. In fact, it was only about 2 hours before the last parasite fell under the onslaught of the immune system and his own forces, and then the injury location was swarmed by thousands of Cleaners to clean up the absolute pathogen devastation. Looking at his scouting groups, Progen expended some of the mana he was going to use to repair the wound on replacing the thousands of Newts that he had lost during the fight, but overall everything worked out quite well.

“It’ll be at least a few hours before our host starts to recover from his mana use,” Progen mentioned to the interneuron cell cluster, thankful that the spasms had stopped not too long after the healing magic had been used. It was easy enough for Stemmy to pinpoint what had been damaged and to repair those nerves, while also taking very little mana in the process. “Once all of these nerves are done, I’m going to confirm that nothing abnormal came from any of the repairs.”

Ever since he had learned that Chance, the cancer cell that had caused so many problems before changing sides in their conflict with the Blood Curse, had likely been created due to the hasty repair of Marstin’s horrendous stomach wound, Progen had spent time after every repair he had a hand in (and some that he didn’t) checking over the newly fixed cells, looking for any abnormalities. With the help of Regulators, the immune cells that could somehow “sniff” out anything abnormal, the dungeon crystal had actually managed to locate a half-dozen cancerous sites over the last few months that needed to be fixed. Ankle-Biters, the virus-mutation of the Natural Killers, were enough to get rid of these few sites before they could become a problem, thankfully.

That is a very good idea, Progen. For some reason, it seems as though the magical replacement of cells – either through your own mana, this body’s, or someone else’s energy – tends to create cancerous cells more than natural healing.

“I know; I wonder why that is?” The dungeon crystal had some theories, but nothing firm; for all he knew, it could be simply because rushing the job inevitably made some mistakes.

Stemmy didn’t have an answer either, which meant that the cell cluster was silent in response. All of which worked well for Progen, because he was already hard at work using the 500 Regulators he had cultivated over the last few months to swarm over every cell of the newly repaired tissue, skin, blood vessels, and nerve cells that had been involved in the injury. He also used his own observations to see if he could find anything, despite the Regulators being better suited for the job, but there really wasn’t anything else he needed to concentrate on at that time – so he had plenty of opportunity, despite his lack of expertise.

A few hours later, one of his Regulators found a very small cluster of cancerous cells in the repaired thoracolumbar fascia muscle tissue. There were only about 2 dozen cells, because the cancer didn’t have long to replicate and spread, but it was always better to find them early rather than let them multiply out of control and cause some major issues. It was the work of only a few minutes to completely eradicate any trace of the abnormal cells, and the sweep was complete.

“Another job well done, everyone,” Progen said to his forces—which they didn’t acknowledge in any way, of course. Not that the dungeon crystal expected them to, but he was proud enough of what he had created that he deigned to treat them as…well, not equals, but more akin to co-workers in the fight to keep his dungeon protected and healthy. “Now, back to your normal scouting routes—"

Progen, there is something odd happening in the kidneys.

“Odd? What do you mean by odd?” If he remembered right, the pair of kidneys had been near the site of the recent wound, but hadn’t actually been pierced.

Nervous system communication in that area is sporadic for some reason, and it seems to be getting worse. At the current rate, I will lose connection with every nerve in both kidneys within an hour.

Flashbacks of Chance cutting off communications to Stemmy went through Progen’s mind, and he immediately brought his full attention to the body’s kidneys. “While it wasn’t directly involved in the injury, it is quite possible something spread that way without our knowledge. I’m checking it out.”

All Progen could think was that this better not be another ploy by the Blood Curse.

Chapter 12

“Stemmy? Why are these cells dying?”

Progen was thoroughly confused, as he had never seen something like this before. The cells of the kidneys, as well as the nerve cells connected to the organ, were slowly collapsing in on themselves in cell death – for absolutely no reason that he could see.

The cause is unknown. I can tell for sure that they are not dying through apoptosis, which is based on the normal preprogrammed lifespan of a cell that will be replaced by another. From your description, it seems as though they might be suffering from autolysis.

“…Huh?”

They have destroyed themselves through self-digestion.

That was something Progen didn’t even think was possible. “How? Is there a virus or other pathogen that would cause them to do that? Did we miss something?”

There is obviously something preventing the normal sustaining functions of the cells, which in turn forces them to basically “eat” themselves from the inside. As far as my knowledge extends, there is no viral or bacterial infection that would cause something like this to happen. I will have to study these further for a proper diagnosis.

“Well, you better hurry, because this will become a major problem soon.” The cell death, or autolysis as Stemmy called it, was rapidly expanding throughout both kidneys and the nearby nerve cells. Progen immediately brought over a large contingent of Cleaners to start clearing away the dead cells, so that he could start replacing them with his mana. After a half-hour, he was starting to make some headway when the first of his Cleaners…collapsed.

“STEMMY! What is going on?!” As he shouted for the interneuron cell cluster to make sense of the situation, he watched as his Cleaners collapsed in the now familiar autolysis he’d seen in the kidney and nerve cells. The 250 Cleaners he had brought for the process were now dead, killed by something invisible. Worse than that, the spread of cell death had expanded to include the liver and its surrounding nerve strands, and there didn’t seem to be anything Progen could do to stop it.

It’s not a pathogen, that much I can determine. Canceling out cancerous cells – which multiply rather than suffer from autolysis – and any known diseases – which typically take many days to months to really take hold like this – that only leaves one option that is this fast-acting: poison.

“Poison? Are you saying that, along with the pathogens that invaded the body from that wound, a poison was injected?” That all seemed like overkill but perhaps that was the point.

Affirmative.

“Well then, where is it? How do I get rid of it?” There didn’t seem like there was anything to attack, which was going to be an issue if he was trying to stop all of this cell death.

That’s the problem. Based on what was affected first and considering that the small amount of poison enzymes that likely came from the wound should’ve been filtered out by the kidneys, it is likely that it is currently still in the bloodstream. My assumption is that they have been infused into the red blood cells, allowing them to pass through the filtering process unharmed. There is only one poisonous substance that is known to bond with red blood cells, resulting in cell death from the inability to process oxygen molecules passed on to them, essentially asphyxiating them: Cyanide.

“Cyanide, huh?” Now that they knew the culprit, they could get rid of it…right? “How do we eliminate these enzymes, then?”

…Stemmy doesn’t know.

The abrupt switch back to third-person in the cluster of interneuron cells was worrisome. From Progen’s experience, that meant that Stemmy was having trouble processing something.

“What’s wrong?” It took a few moments for Stemmy to respond.

The enzymes shouldn’t have bonded with the red blood cells that quickly, and there should’ve been at least some that got filtered out before they could cause any harm, but that didn’t happen to be the case. Not only that, but the magical healing that repaired the wound should’ve eliminated the harmful enzymes in the process; those types of effects normally remove anything detrimental to the body at a subcellular level, including most viruses and enzymes. Or, at least, viruses that aren’t enhanced by magical effects like the Insidious Virus you have combated before.

It didn’t take long for Progen to understand what his assistant was getting at. The poison was altered in some way to make it more effective, which didn’t bode well for Marstin’s health. While the damage wasn’t debilitating yet, it would be if something wasn’t done soon. The problem was that, this time, the danger didn’t originate from the Blood Curse (at least he didn’t think so), but by some other magical effect.

“So it is hitching a ride in the red blood cells, right? Well then, we just need to figure out which ones and eliminate them.”

There aren’t any cells that can identify these particular enzymes – at least none that I have knowledge of.

“Great. So we’re screwed, is that it?” Stemmy wisely didn’t respond.

However, something the cluster of interneuron cells just said resonated with him, even as he continued to watch the autolysis spread even more throughout the kidneys and the liver.  Hmm…something that he doesn’t have knowledge of. There was something there, but he couldn’t quite concentrate enough to pull the solution out from nothing.

The next few hours Progen spent replacing dead cells with his mana, fighting a losing battle as he tried to figure out what to do. In the kidneys, fortunately, a lot of the material from the deceased cells was flushed away through natural processes. The poison also didn’t seem to spread through the remains unless they were picked up by Cleaners, for instance, so it was safe to let them pass through. For the nerve cells and the liver, he started to use Newts to batter dead cells out of the way to make room for new ones that his mana helped to replace.

Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough. The kidneys and liver were the least of the problems, as the progression of dead cells had spread to the stomach and was starting on the heart – the most important organ of all. Marstin could theoretically survive for a while without many of his other organs with Progen’s help, but if the heart were to give out, things would start collapsing quite quickly. Already, evidence of kidney failure could be seen throughout the host body, as additional water was starting to build up, causing both hands and feet to swell the slightest bit. In addition, it was clear that the blood vessels were starting to become slightly clogged with waste products that weren’t being properly filtered out by the vital organs. Progen was able to clear some of this away by applying his mana to the purpose, but he couldn’t do that while trying to replace the dead cells that seemed to be multiplying by the minute.

“Stemmy, I’m out of options here!” Progen yelled at the cluster of interneuron cells in desperation. “Please tell me you have a solution!”

While all of the dead cell replacement was going on, Progen had also been actively searching for the red blood cells that had been affected by the poisonous cyanide enzyme that was causing all of these issues. With a little bit of luck, he managed to find and isolate a dozen of the cells affected, looking lopsided as the enzyme was attached like some sort of abnormal growth to the outside of the red blood cells. He found that if he sacrificed a Newt, he could instruct it to swallow the “infected” cell, breaking it and the enzyme down – though it killed his immune cell just as quickly as it had the Cleaners.

Unfortunately, he also found out 2 other things during this process. One, which was the most worrisome, was that there were likely tens of thousands of these cyanide enzymes floating around, attaching themselves to red blood cells in an effort to spread to all parts of the body. While he had tens of thousands of Newts at his beck and call (courtesy of the body’s immune system), the problem was simply locating these poisoned red blood cells. He had gotten lucky finding a dozen of them over the last few hours, but there were trillions of red blood cells to look through in the body, and it was particularly difficult to spot the enzyme attached to them with so many around at one time. Unlike other pathogens, the immune cells in the body that alerted the lymphatic system of threats had no way to identify this strange enzyme and inform the body or Stemmy of their presence.

Which, even if they could naturally identify them, likely wouldn’t be very successful because of the second thing that he had learned: Each enzyme was infused with a small amount of magical energy, barely even noticeable until he really looked at them. Progen only noticed it when he finally located a few by happenstance, which was particularly lucky because of what the tiny particles of energy attached to the enzymes actually did. Essentially, the poison that was quickly killing Marstin was protected by some sort of “shield” that made its molecules almost completely impossible to find and locate.

“Is this the work of the Blood Curse?”

Unlikely. These enzymes appeared and were activated entirely too quickly for them to be affected by the Curse. It is my thought that they were specially implanted inside of our host by the blade that caused the wound in the first place.

That was only slightly better, Progen supposed. However, it now made entirely too much sense why the healing magic that had helped to seal the wound in Marstin’s back hadn’t been able to eliminate the poison. The magical “shield” hid it from the spell or effect that had been used, allowing it to rage through the body unchecked.

Even though Marstin was unconscious, his worsening condition wasn’t lost on those outside acting as his protectors.

From what I can understand, they thought their original healing would’ve been enough to fix our host. When the spasming stopped, they left him alone to wake up on his own; however, with the poison ravaging his systems, the results are plain enough for them to visually see it.

Soon enough, there were additional flashes of healing that spread throughout the worst hit areas of the poison, without any visible result – the cells continued to eat themselves up. Without Progen being able to do anything about it, as well as external healing, the dungeon crystal was about to start raging and giving up entirely.

“Why?! I’ve gotten this far through every obstacle sent my way, but now a practically invisible poison is what takes this body out?” He couldn’t help complaining and whining, but it felt and appeared as if his entire world was falling apart around him. “This isn’t fair…huh?”

His tirade of self-pity was interrupted as he started to repair some of the dead cells in the stomach – for what little good that would likely do. However, allowing the lining of the stomach to basically disintegrate would only hasten his problems if the acid contained within was allowed to leak out, so Progen was doing everything he could to stave off the inevitable. The cells in the heart were holding steady at the moment after he replaced a large swath of them with his mana, but it would only be a matter of time before he couldn’t hold back the sweeping tide.

But there was something going on in the stomach that caught his attention. As he was replacing splotches of dead cells, there was a sudden flaring of his mana – and it wasn’t Progen that had caused it. Instead, it seemed to be coming from the Arcanaphil that he had left floating in the middle of the organ. Two quick flashes of light emerged from the center of the strange and unnatural-looking immune cell, before it shot out at the closest part of the stomach cell lining, plunging into the wall and burying itself deep enough to wiggle into the nearest blood vessel.

It didn’t move very far before it stopped, passing by thousands of red blood vessels on its way. There was one that it didn’t pass by, however, as it deliberately touched one that Progen immediately saw had a growth along its side that was more than likely one of the poisonous enzymes. “Nice! These things can track them—”

As soon as it touched the infected red blood cell, a shockwave of his mana practically exploded from the center of the Arcanaphil. It shot through the entire body, every single system except for the brain (which prevented pretty much everything from passing through), and where it touched specific red blood cells, a small glow appeared. The abrupt explosion of mana apparently exhausted the unique immune cell, as its cell wall quickly disintegrated and fell apart, leaving its components there to drift away.

Fortunately, the glow that surrounded tens of thousands of red blood cells throughout the body didn’t disappear along with it.

“Stemmy! All of the cells with the enzyme have been pinpointed somehow,” Progen said with sudden excitement. “Prepare to pass along information to the immune system while I work on rounding them up.”

Will do. However, keep in mind that the immune system has no way to identify these specific cells.

The situation was still deteriorating rapidly, but now they had a chance. All it would take was a lot of coordination and perseverance, which Progen and Stemmy had in abundance. First, all around the areas that were being the hardest hit, he had his immune cell scouting groups start to round up and isolate thousands of the infected red blood cells, forcibly corralling them into large clots. Thankfully, they didn’t put up any type of protest, because the enzymes were only that; they didn’t actually control the cells with any type of intelligence, and they had no means of locomotion.

Then, when there was a large-enough clot of enzyme-combined cells – with a few hundred innocent red blood cells accidentally gathered up at the same time, as it was difficult to fully separate them – Progen had Stemmy inform the immune system that there was an infection that needed to be neutralized. A swarm of the body’s Newts would then come and swallow the entire blood clot, resulting in the deaths of thousands of immune cells shortly thereafter. It was more than worth it, though, because it meant thousands of poisoned red blood cells now out of circulation.

It took more than an hour for there to be a visible shift in progress, as Progen’s efforts to replace dead cells were greater than new patches of those dead cells appearing. After that, it was only a matter of time before he was able to hunt down the rest of the cyanide enzymes and get rid of them before they could do any more damage. Of course, as soon as it was done, Progen still had to fix all the damage, but now that there wasn’t an active crisis going on, the magical healing coming from the outside was starting to have a greater effect. When Marstin finally regained consciousness, there was still a little bit left to fix throughout the body, but it was in much better shape than it had been a few short hours before.

“I can’t believe how close we came to losing everything, Stemmy,” Progen said, mentally exhausted from the constant management of everything. “What was it that the Arcanaphil did? Or should I say, the Magic Sniffer?”

The…Magic Sniffer? I guess that could work for a simple explanation of what it did, but I rather think it might be too simplistic. As for what it did, I believe you saw that for yourself; it used the large store of your mana inside of its form to locate and highlight all of the magical entities inside of the body. Something tells me that the ability to do that isn’t its only one, however.

“What else can it do?” he asked, curious.

I don’t know for sure, but logic points to there being more than one use for the Magic Sniffer, or whatever you would like to call it.

That was all well and good, but regardless of other potential uses, he knew what they had been proven to do. As a result, Progen made plans to station dozens or even hundreds of them all around the body so that he had full coverage in case anything like this happened again. He’d rather know immediately if there were some sort of attack like that again as soon as possible, because this time was just too close.

Interestingly enough, when he got a chance to place one near the barrier closing off the brain, it started to vibrate violently – to the point where the dungeon crystal thought it might tear itself apart. It didn’t shoot towards the barrier and explode in a shockwave of mana, though, so Progen just moved it far enough away so that it stopped shaking.

With some follow-up healing and checking for cancerous cells created from any of the recent replacement of cells, Progen worked for the next few days to fix everything and set up his new network of Magic Sniffers, confident that he wouldn’t be caught unprepared again. To aid with that, there were some other things that could be added to Marstin’s diet in order to improve his senses even further….

Chapter 13

Marstin’s second awakening from unconsciousness was met with considerably more attention than the previous occasion. One of the masked royal guards among the unseen escorts was pumping healing magic into him even as Sue watched with a worried expression that broke into a relieved smile upon his awakening.

“Good morning,” Sue greeted him as the masked healer stood up, bowed to her, and left the carriage. “I hope we don’t make this into a habit. I may age prematurely if you keep falling unconscious like that.”

“How long was I out this time?” Marstin asked, getting up into a sitting position, though he felt oddly sore. He shook his head to relieve some of the drowsiness he still felt. “Ow, my body.”

‘You deserve this pain for being so unprepared. Never forget threats are everywhere.’

“Just the night,” Sue informed him. “We’ve almost finished preparing to leave. Mm, I will brew some tea to help relieve your pain.”

“Thank you for that,” Marstin said, a frown playing across his lips as he inspected his sore body. Sue nodded, and pulled open a hidden panel in the carriage, revealing a simple tea set. After mixing and preparing the tea leaves, the royal guard snapped her fingers, and a small flame burst out in the small burner whereupon she sat the tea pot, already filled with water. Marstin enjoyed the pleasant aroma as the water began to bubble.

“So, what was with the healer? Was the blade poisoned?” he asked as Sue finished and had begun to pour the tea into a simple cup. He accepted it graciously.

“This tea is made with blood cherry leaves, a royal favorite. And with this tea, please accept my most grievous apologies for not properly managing your safety and for placing you in harm’s way.” In her graceful manner, Sue stood up and bowed very low to Marstin, flustering the young man.

“That’s alright, I forgive you,” he said hastily, quickly waving at her to stop and almost spilling his tea. “I also saw the situation outside. If you hadn’t gone out, then the other guards would have been injured severely. And this carriage, despite its looks, was supposed to be very secure, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Sue agreed, sitting back down and pouring herself some tea. “This carriage is indeed a magical artifact used by the royal guard to transport the Prince and Princess. Only the Queen’s carriage could be said to have stronger enchantments in all of Istut. However, we didn’t foresee that the enemy would employ such reckless measures as winter bandits and … others.” She shook her head with disgrace. “It was a failure in intelligence. I do not look forward to giving my incident report to the captain.”

“So,” Marstin began. “What were those two men?”

“Allow me to answer your original question first,” Sue held up a finger, her gaze gaining a strange gleam. “You asked why I had called for the healer to treat you? I had her summoned as soon as I was able as my subordinates finished dealing with the enemy. Her findings didn’t reveal any trace of poison, just some almond oil for polishing left over in your wound. Not that it was easy for her, as I was forced to hold you down so she could get a proper inspection. You were having an extreme seizure mere moments after you fell unconscious, requiring her to continuously cast healing magic into your body to keep it from injuring itself. Later, your body started to deteriorate as if you had been poisoned, though it may have been the result of an overlooked injury; regardless, you seem to be fine now.” Sue’s eyes fell to the floor, a small gleam of humor dancing across her face. “Though, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get the drool stains out of the flooring, not to mention the blood.”

“Blood?” Marstin sat up straighter. He looked around quickly but couldn’t immediately spot any red stains. Now that she mentioned it, however, there was a familiar iron odor in the air, masked mostly by the scent of tea. Marstin was inwardly surprised he hadn’t smelled it, but quickly remembered stage 3 lowered his senses during the recovery period. Not that it usually mattered given his typical ‘too much pain to move’ state that went with it.

“Not from you seizing; from the wound on your back,” she reminded him, not noticing his inner thoughts. “Open wounds are not good things to have when having a seizure; the muscle spasms force them open, and the spiking blood pressure intensifies bleeding.”

“As for your second question,” Sue continued, raising another finger. “The two men you encountered inside the carriage, did you hear a sharp and piercing noise before they appeared?”

Marstin nodded.

“That was the sound of space being forcibly collapsed,” Sue explained. “The magical mechanics are too complicated to be explained in a single sitting. It is sufficient to say that you survived an encounter with void assassins. To preempt the obvious question to come,” she gave him a wink, “void assassins are the premier assassins in Palos. They are active throughout the continent and will accept any job. The methods by which to contact them are unknown, as they choose their clients and not the other way around. Little is known about them even among the best intelligence gatherers in both the North, and the South. The basics are well known, however: They possess a strange power over space that allows them to bypass most magic. They are incredibly expensive and base their price around the strength of the target or his or her protection. If they fail, they will reattempt the job unless the target is considerably of a higher strength than known, whereupon they will request a new higher payment. And every killed assassin quickly turns to dust to hide their identity. So far, no one has been able to track their movements, find their bases, or even determine their identities.”

“That sounds almost unreal,” Marstin said, rubbing his jaw. “A group of infamous killers that work exclusively for certain people, and no one can find them? What about the S rank adventurers you mentioned yesterday?”

“Famously, an S rank years ago did accept a quest related to the void assassins,” Sue said with a worried expression. “However, he never returned, and the void assassins suddenly became more expensive. The guild assumed the policy of not accepting extermination quests relating to the void assassins after that, though they do still accept protection missions that may involve void assassins.”

“Then, how was I able to kill them so, er,” Marstin quickly caught himself. “I mean, why did these assassins fail?”

“You tell me,” Sue snorted, folding her arms across her armor-covered chest. “In fact, I have quite a few questions for you. For one, what was that seizure, Marstin? Your records hold no indication of a history of seizures, let alone having the strength to have survived an attack from two void assassins. Strike that, I saw their dead bodies and their wounds before they turned to dust. You clearly killed them -- or, you had someone else do it who has escaped my perception. I do not enjoy relying on incomplete information, and I must insist you explain so I can properly arrange your protection.”

“How about you share your secrets first,” Marstin shot back defensively. “Is it necessary for the person you’re assigned to protect to tell you their life story as well?”

Sue opened her mouth for an obvious quick rebuttal before closing it slowly. She then groaned and leaned back, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “My apologies, I was crass. You are not a child, nor are you one of my ladies. The pressure of the incident and my burning curiosity got the better of me. You are right, you are not required to share with me anything you don’t want to.”

“But,” Sue opened a single eye to look at Marstin, “this incident will be submitted to the trial, and the judges will expect you to answer them then publicly. If you truly have a secret you wish to keep hidden, then perhaps you should determine your cover story now.”

Marstin’s expression turned ugly as he struggled to think through various excuses. Unfortunately, none of his normal ideas would work against killing famous assassins on his own.

“Oh, and I have heard that a special envoy from the Southern church was requested to oversee the veracity of the trial,” Sue added calmly, opening her other eye. “From what I understand, they will be able to detect the truth of your words to determine what is and isn’t a lie.”

Marstin raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I give. I can’t argue against anything you’ve said.”

“Give it another 10 years and I’m sure you’ll have your own ways out of this kind of situation,” Sue assured him with a teasing tone in her voice. “Of course, I have no desire for you to tell me the whole truth. In fact, the court likely won’t either. They’ll just want to hear just enough to turn the tide in their favor.”

Marstin blinked. “And whose favor is that?”

“Everyone has their own interests at play here,” Sue sighed. “And here and now? I’m the only person who has your wellbeing as my priority. Anything you share with me within this carriage that won’t endanger the Queen or country, I promise to not share with anyone else. I swear upon my immortal soul.” She made an unusual hand gesture Marstin was unfamiliar with, and suddenly he felt something in the air change.

“The least I can do after my failures today,” Sue explained. “I’ve made an oath witnessed by the gods, and so I cannot go against my word from now until my death. If the trial was being held in full seriousness by all sides, you’d be expected to swear this kind of oath as well. Just tells you the state of the country, doesn’t it?” Sue angrily muttered the last bit as her eyes drifted out the window before coughing and looking back at Marstin.

Marstin inwardly felt a bit touched by Sue’s actions, though he didn’t have any knowledge regarding the oath she’d taken beyond her words. Still, it would make sense to explain something, after all.

“As you were the head guild receptionist in Graniton, did the guild master ever mention to you about the new ability I discussed with him several months ago?” Marstin asked carefully.

Sue shook her head. “The guild master of Graniton is very private when it comes to his adventurers. I did see the transcript from the investigators three months ago, however, as well as the reports from the royal guards who have been watching you secretly since then. Are you referring to the hypothesis that your latent magical abilities are manifesting strangely?”

‘So, they were watching me,’ Marstin thought to himself.

“Somewhat,” Marstin explained aloud, hiding his reaction to the revelation. “I’m still unsure of the cause, but I can call upon my . . . magic, I guess it could be called, to augment my body. I’ve been practicing it in secret for the most part, but I’ve been able to use it to increase my abilities with varying success. Last night was the strongest I could do, increasing both my reactions and strength. But the first assassin would have killed me had it not been for your shield. He was forced to strike it twice to dispel it, giving me time to react. The second was not expecting me to drop from the ceiling with a dagger to his head. The seizure is an after effect of this magic, since my body is too weak to withstand this ability.”

Marstin conveniently left out the different stages, stage 3’s additional effect of increasing his body’s vitality after the recovery period, and the fact that he’d retrieved the two enchanted axe weapons from the void assassins.

“I see,” Sue nodded. “So, your magic is manifesting itself like a magic warrior. Unlike Northern aura warriors, magic warriors fight by using magic within their bodies to increase their fighting ability, unlike the former who wield aura to augment their abilities on the outside to fight. Yes, the seizure makes sense given your history then. A poor coincidence that your magical talent fails to match your physique, but it happens. It at least will serve you as a trump card for emergencies.”

Marstin quickly nodded along with her words, grateful to have an explanation given to him. He cocked his head suddenly as a thought came to him.

“Earlier, you said you saw the assassins before they turned to dust. Didn’t you see their faces?” Marstin asked curiously.

“Faces? They wore full face masks,” Sue responded with a confused look.

The two shared a moment of silence, with shock slowly growing onto Sue’s face. “Marstin, you said your ability augments your senses? And that was how you were able to ignore the demon mind magic, right?” she asked in a barely contained hush whisper. “Then the masks I saw, if they were made by magic designed to confuse the senses, you actually saw their real faces?”

“I happen to have trained myself to remember things most others would forget,” Marstin broke his own silence with a look of careful consideration. “I could describe their faces to you if you can draw.”

“I can’t, but one of the guards is trained in it,” Sue’s grin threatened to break her face. “I’ll call her over!”

It didn’t take long for the called royal guard to appear, this one unmasked and dressed as a normal adventurer. She brought with her a painting slab and inks and got to work as soon as she sat, taking each detail described by Marstin of each assassin and meticulously drawing it with his feedback until she was done. Sue even delayed their departure for 20 minutes so as to not disturb the painting process. When it was done, the guard handed over the paintings to Sue, who examined them and stowed them away in another hidden alcove within the carriage. She thanked Marstin for his help, echoed by the other guard who then exited immediately after. The carriage then shook as it was drawn away, continuing its journey to the capital city.

The following three days were rather uneventful in comparison. Marstin dedicated the first to recovering from his fatigue, with Sue silently meditating across from him. The meal breaks were short and delicious, and no other bandits appeared to bother them at night. The fourth day held an encounter with a pack of tier 2 wind wolves as they entered the plains proper, but they were dealt with swiftly by the visible escort. Marstin enjoyed the sight of the snow-covered plains, having been here last during the green summer and the caribou incident. The endless expanse of white reminded Marstin of images from books he’d read at the depot, describing a magical place known as a ‘desert’, where it was as hot as it was cold in Istut. Instead of snow, it was covered in sand, a substance barely seen in Istut as the only beaches were in the far north and perpetually ice-covered.

Marstin had added to his inner list of desires to see real golden sand one day, as part of his bucket list. Until then, however, he was just going to have to settle for endless white, no matter how glaring the reflected sun was on his eyes. That lasted barely a minute before Marstin was forced to close his eyes and recover his sight, inciting a chuckle from Sue.

The fifth and final day of full travel was more intense than the previous two, as now the group entered the central part of the country. Sue was visibly on edge all day, devoting all her attention to the detection barrier, and meals were only rations delivered without the carriage stopping. Marstin was affected by the tension as well, prepared to call upon stage 2 or 3 at a moment’s notice. However, the day passed peacefully without any encounters, either human or monster. The tension finally seemed to fade as the sun set, illuminating a sparkling city in the rapidly decreasing distance.

“We’re arriving at a good time,” Sue informed Marstin with a smile. “Not many can appreciate the gem of the north from this perfect position. The icy walls reflect the light back into the city’s stained glass, which refracts it onto the stones, and then should create. . ..”

She broke off as light from the city suddenly burst out into the sky, illuminating the awakening stars in colors that moved in ebbs and flows as the sun continued to wane. Marstin let out a gasp of wonder at the sight, with Sue’s happy face echoing his sentiments.

“It’s said that those who built the city were jealous of the northern lights found naturally in the Devil’s Country, so they designed the city to make their own,” Sue mentioned to Marstin as they approached the city gate. “As long as the ice exists on the outer wall, this sight will repeat itself every sunset. Allow me to formally welcome you, Marstin, to Iora, the Glittering Gem of the North.”

The carriage and its escorts entered the city gates after a quick admission by one of the escorting royal guards of paperwork to the gate guards, who saluted respectfully. The carriage wheels clattered against the white cobblestone streets, though the carriage occupants remained unaffected by any bumps. Marstin kept his face almost glued to the one-sided window, taking in the sights of this new place, the first true city he’d ever visited.

The outer part of the city they were passing through appeared to be cleaner than Graniton, with the white of the stone shining under the torchlights and magical flames contained within their brasiers. The buildings, however, were odd to Marstin’s eye. Though the store fronts and homes facing the street were pristine, the occasional side road and alley revealed a grimier look into the world hidden behind the front, with people sleeping on the stones flashing by for just a moment before they were left behind.

“So even here, the situation is the same,” Marstin murmured with a frown.

“Hm?” Sue asked, looking over at him.

“Nothing,” Marstin shook his head in response. “Just talking to myself. Where do the hawkers set up their stalls?”

“There are no hawkers in Iora,” Sue shook her head. “There is a weekly market where vendors rent stalls to sell their wares in the inner city.”

“That costs money?” Marstin asked.

“Of course. The spaces are owned by various nobles or merchant groups,” Sue said. “Why?”

“It just seems harder to make a living here than Graniton, that’s all,” Marstin said calmly, his excitement for the capital slowly waning.

“I suppose you’re right,” Sue said after a moment’s thought. “Living here in the city also costs more compared to towns like Graniton as well. It’s no surprise then that the tribal recruitment has been met with such eagerness from the lower class.”

“Hm?” Marstin blinked, turning his attention finally away from the window. “Tribal recruitment?”

“Right,” Sue nodded. “I’m sure you’ve heard from your Istutian Polar Tribe member companions about the state of relations between the country and the tribes. They all come here to Iora first before heading to the other parts of Istut for their training and relationship-building. This is due to the updated agreement created between former King Tomald and the Tribal Council years back. He allowed them to create a central embassy within Iora and gave them permission to recruit members of the lower class to assist the tribes as . . . well . . . mates, in return for better lumber and fur access.”

“I recall Yarrow telling me something like that,” Marstin rubbed his chin as his mind worked backwards. “The tribes have had a population problem for years due to the harsh climate and wars with us back in the day. But Yarrow referred to them as joining the tribe? Is there something she left out?”

“Well,” Sue slightly blushed. “The truth is, that politically speaking, the Istutian Polar Tribes are a separate nation from Istut and are treated as such with foreign policy. The bottom line for all nobles is a loss of population due to emigration, so King Tomald could only frame the agreement as a loan. While the citizens who go to the tribes are still considered citizens, the children they have within the tribes are not. They are raised within the tribe and are not taught to be Istut citizens.”

“So, you saying the tribes are ‘borrowing’ Istutians as breeding stock?” Marstin gaped.

“It’s an awkward topic for everyone,” Sue agreed with a flushed face. “And it’s resulted in some rather unsavory scandals within the younger noble population as well, male and female. Still, the results have spoken for themselves, as spies have reported the population of tribal children over the past 12 years has doubled in size compared to the past. This information and the agreement have become a heated issue within the court as a result, with both sides arguing for and against maintaining the King’s final act with the tribes.”

“He died after making the agreement?” Marstin narrowed his eyes.

“Yes,” Sue said, her face stony. “As well as 20 of the best royal guards alongside him on the return journey from visiting the Silver Serpent Tribe.”

The atmosphere in the carriage was too dour for anything more to be said, so Marstin turned his attention back out the window to the city. They were passing the inner wall now; a strangely fortified guard presence had forced the carriage to stop and hand over more documents. This time, Marstin noticed, the gate guards did not salute the royal guards as they left. He saved this information for later. The inner city was more the same, only the side streets were larger and more visible, as well as clean and free of people below a certain income. The early night streets were still filled with people coming and going as well as messengers running past; women in long, thin, thick material dresses being escorted to their destinations by butlers, maids, or family members all wearing various fur coats; decorated wagons and carriages transporting people and goods; and guards patrolling the streets with a keen eye. It was by far the most visual representation of wealth Marstin had ever seen, and his hands kept twitching as he fought to restrain his pickpocket instincts. Every rich person he could see appeared to be completely unaware of how easily accessible their money pouches and bags were, swinging on their backs, sides, or bulging out of loose pockets.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Sue reminded Marstin with a glare. “The guards of the inner city all have trained their senses in one way or another, and most nobles keep a tracking coin within their valuables. If you’re caught, you’d ruin your reputation before the trial. As long as I am in charge of protecting you, you should forget it.”

Marstin nodded with an annoyed look on his face. He didn’t appreciate being assumed to be a thief, though he noted she didn’t care about his little habit beyond her job. Perhaps this was reflective of her attitude against the nobles of Istut?

“There are a lot more nobility than I expected,” Marstin observed.

“As I’m sure you know, most nobles are descended from the mercenary groups that dominated the land before the country was created,” Sue recited. “As is the attitude of most mercenaries facing death on a daily basis, they had the habit of copulating and creating as many descendants as possible to keep their family name alive. This habit has persisted historically until about 50 or so years ago, once they figured out that spreading the inheritable wealth, and thus causing a high number of familial squabbling and murder incidents, was counterproductive to the consolation of power and resources. Still, even this change cannot reduce the sheer number of noble lineages, especially with the rise of merchant families intermingling their blood.

“Also, the trial has increased their number,” Sure reminded Marstin. “Not including the visiting nobles of other countries, many of the nobles outside the city have traveled here to witness this historical event. As I said, there are many sides in Iora, all vying for benefits.”

“Not the type of place I’d like to live in for very long,” Marstin decided. “I don’t enjoy complicated situations. I don’t have the stomach for it, I suppose.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sue agreed. “I personally enjoy taking missions away from Iora, but I always feel most at home here in spite of all this. There is a hidden splendor here that you can find if you just take the time to look beyond the visible.”

Marstin shrugged, and the two returned to silence as the carriage and escort continued toward the royal palace. The gate to the royal part of the city was even grander than the previous two, and the guards were more numerous and clad in a visually distinct white and gold armor with the symbol of Istut emblazoned on their chest.

“Friends of yours?” Marstin asked.

“Not my section,” Sue said simply.

The royal guards at the gate took little time to examine the documents before allowing the group through. Neither group seemed to acknowledge the other.

“We will be arriving at the servant’s entrance shortly.” Sue said. “The Queen shall be awaiting you at the garden. Are you ready to meet her?”

Marstin looked down at himself. Even cleaning his armor each morning, he wasn’t the most presentable after traveling for 5 days and fighting the second day.

“I’ve never met royalty before,” he said slowly. “But shouldn’t I be better dressed?”

“She will understand, and this is an informal meeting not requiring the standard manners or respect you’d normally present to her. Starting tomorrow, however, I will ensure such manners are driven into your head so hard you’ll be spitting syllogisms for days.”

Marstin gulped.

Chapter 14

The servant’s entrance was quiet as the carriage stealthily rolled away, leaving Marstin and Sue behind. Even at this place, the stonework was incredibly clean, with patterns carved into the pillars of the doorway and the symbol of Istut engraved upon the lodestone. Marstin couldn’t help but adjust his collar again, despite the action being completely meaningless.

“This way, sir Marstin,” Sue indicated, leading him through the doorway. A wave of her hand after they passed through caused a simple air current to flow past Marstin and shut the door behind them. The young adventurer followed the older woman past several storage rooms and the kitchen, which was oddly devoid of both people and food in the midst of cooking.

“The queen will be attending a hosted dinner tonight in honor of the visiting foreign dignitaries,” Sue explained as they exited the kitchen area. “As such, there is no need to prepare a royal meal tonight, and the servant’s meals, which take considerably less time to prepare, are being made in the second kitchen which is smaller and less complicated to work in. Conveniently, it was also scheduled that the main kitchens would be cleaned today, so no one will be coming for the rest of the night.”

“The queen is a very meticulous person with her planning,” Marstin observed.

“She has to be,” Sue sighed, not explaining any further. Another corridor, and Sue stopped outside of a door. “She is waiting for you inside,” Sue said. “I will be waiting out here to escort you to your inn.”

“Don’t you need to check me for weapons, or poison, or any of that?” Marstin raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t kidding about her abilities,” Sue said with a serious expression. “Now, don’t keep her majesty waiting.” With that, she turned to face the door and knocked three times.

“Enter,” a voice came from within, speaking with an auditory sense of authority. Marstin shivered in spite of himself, and thus failed to react when Sue gave him a small push into the room. He stumbled in, recovering just in time as the door shut behind him. He looked around to get his bearings.

The room was a simple study, likely for someone along the lines of head maid or butler. A figure was sitting with poise on a couch, staring at the opposite wall. She turned her head gracefully without shifting her body. The queen, rather, Queen Nagri if this was indeed her before him, was wearing a complicatedly fancy dress in a style Marstin was familiar with from his readings: a plunging neckline putting her sizable bosom on display, with an open neck and blue puffy sleeves lined with white lace; a sky-blue waist that contorted her torso into a thinner shape, with a central lattice of woven white lace; a blossoming dress that flowed outwards like a flower bud around her. The Queen’s silver hair, the sign of her lineage with the past royal dynasty, was in a fanciful bun held together with a silver tiara from the front and several silver rings on the back. Her face, while visibly aged, was still quite pleasant to observe despite the hint of a frozen frown.

She looked him over as well, not giving any indication what she thought of him. Her right hand summoned a folded fan that appeared to be made of ice, and she pointed with it toward the couch across from her.

“Sit,” she commanded, her chilly voice frosting the very air in the room visibly. Marstin’s breath became foggy, startling him to what he’d thought had been an illusion to actually be occurring. He briskly, but not hurriedly, walked over to the couch and sat down, sitting up straight. He locked eyes with Queen Nagri and waited for her to speak.

“For the future,” the queen said suddenly, “it is considered impolite to make eye contact with nobility without their permission. Even if they address you, if they do not consider you to be worthy of respect, then to meet their eye could be viewed as a personal affront to their honor.”

“Then, should I not do it?” Marstin asked hesitantly as he dropped his eyes.

“No,” the queen answered, a sudden cheeky smile arising on her face. “In fact, you should ensure you do this with every Istutian noble, except for me, unless it is an informal visit like now. I would very much enjoy seeing them squirm and waver between accepting you as an equal or challenging you to a duel for their honor. I imagine the scene to be quite amusing.”

“Politics are strange,” Marstin said, tapping his knee nervously as he returned his gaze to the queen’s eyes.

“It is the nature of things for humans,” Queen Nagri said, not disagreeing. “I’ve learned as Queen that humans are a species with two sides: one to support their fellow man, and the other to support their interests. Because this world is unfair, and our power is limited, people in power are always forced to make decisions that help one group at the cost of another, and no group wishes to lose out. Emptying the food stores to save the people during a famine may save lives, but the farmers and nobles who are unable to pay their workers and expenses lose out. And the more one has to lose, the more they fight for their interests, sometimes turning to underhanded behavior to get ahead. And yet, individuals can do so much good on their own as well. It is hard then to say who is better; the one who acts for the greater good, or the one that acts for the lesser evil. ‘Tis a question that will exist until the end of our civilization, like others before us.”

“So, what do I have to do with that?” Marstin asked carefully. “I personally consider myself no one of consequence. In fact, just rising up as an adventurer in the last year and living a better life has truly satisfied my dearest wishes.”

“I see the report was accurate,” Queen Nagri gave Marstin a warm smile. “You do not have a good sense of personal worth. Then, allow me to tell you what you are to me.” She pointed at him with her ice fan. “You are to be my weapon.”

“Come again?” Marstin blinked.

“Those behind Ghevin Drestice have long been my most hated enemies,” Queen Nagri explained, her face tightening into a hateful visage. “Their actions towards enriching themselves have long dragged the wellbeing of our country down, but I have been unable to track them in the darkness they slither in. You, however, have given me the thing I have desired for so long: a chance to act against them.”

The fan unfolded and covered her face now as she fanned herself. “I have placed you as a hero candidate of Istut for your actions saving the town of Graniton. This status affords you no political standing, only the potential. As such, when I told you to look nobles in the eye when speaking with them, it is meant to be a challenge. Honor duels cannot be taken by proxy, as it is a tradition from mercenary times. They will fear losing to you and proving your strength as a candidate, and they will humiliate themselves by accepting you as an equal, also proving your strength as a candidate. Thus, during the trial, it will be determined if you are to be a recognized hero before your testimonial, which will give your words more political weight. Your testimony will force our enemies to sacrifice their tails to escape, finally giving me an edge to seek them out.”

“You’re using me,” Marstin summarized.

‘Everyone has always used you. You haven’t proven yourself yet. It will never be enough.’

“We all use each other,” the queen countered, her fan folding up and pointing at Marstin. “To tell you otherwise would be a disservice towards the respect I feel towards you; the only person to harm their interests in the 10 years I’ve spent fighting them. Besides, I would not expect you to do this without benefits.”

The fan unfolded once more. “I understand from the reports that you are not a materialistic person, nor do you harbor great political ambitions. The former is troublesome, while the latter is a relief. Merely offering you silver and gold would be tawdry, though I have no doubt you wouldn’t mind accepting it.”

Marstin shrugged. Coin was coin after all.

“So, after careful consideration, here is my proposal,” the fan clicked shut, revealing a cat-like smile on the queen’s face. “A once-a-year, full-expense vacation to anywhere in the North for the rest of your life on the crown’s expense, an inheritable familial land grant within Istut with a mansion built to your liking, the opportunity for you and your ‘companion’ to read the books found within the royal library over a period of 3 days, and hero status within Istut. The status of hero would be made public or kept silent to your discretion, but in either decision, you’d be exempt from taxes, immune to prosecution for normal crimes, and able to utilize the resources of the country with my permission. This includes the army, my royal guard, my spies, the merchant group of the crown, and others you’d learn about.”

Marstin went over the offer in his head. “You are shockingly generous,” he finally said, not quite keeping the quiver out of his voice at how enticing the offer was. He could barely wrap his mind around it, honestly.

“Of course,” the queen continued. “As a hero, you will be expected to perform duties on behalf of the country, publicly known or not. I will not lie, this may on occasion include acts most will consider unsavory to ensure the safety of the people--if you choose to remain a behind the scenes hero. As a public hero, you’d be expected to travel to spread the good name of the royal family by participating in public events. Both choices also stipulate you be a participant of any major armed conflicts the country is involved in.”

“A catch, but not an unreasonable one,” Marstin acknowledged. “Are there any current Istut heroes?”

“There are none currently active,” Queen Nagri sighed. “My husband seemingly granted only a single title during his reign, but she vanished some years ago.”

“Seemingly?” Marstin asked curiously.

The queen frowned thoughtfully. “There is only one hero appointment record in the archives, but a few books in my husband’s study have pointed to several others. However, I have been unable to locate further proof. There are very few written records about the titled hero as well, meaning she may have decided to vanish upon my husband’s death. Any other living heroes are likely doing the same; having only respect for the royal who named them. I would not have suffered as much if they would heed my call.”

“Am I expected to answer you now?” Marstin asked.

“My boy, I do not wish to pressure you,” the queen chuckled, drawing a small smile that lit up her face, with a hint of beauty hidden behind her veil of coldness. “I’ve always found unwilling help -- those enlisted against their will -- to be worse than enemy attacks. Even if you do not accept my offer, you’ll still do what I want by speaking the truth. I will either gain a new ally or gain an advantage over my enemy. There is no loss to me, either way. For now, it is time for you to leave. I must return to my chambers to prepare for tonight’s ball, and you need some rest. Sue will take care of you until I see you again.”

She waved her hand dismissively, prompting Marstin to get up. He decided to bow in an effort to be polite and was rewarded with a firm nod from the older woman. Properly dismissed, Marstin walked to the door and opened it, finding Sue waiting patiently outside.

“Follow me,” she said quickly after the door was closed behind him. She led Marstin back through the corridors and kitchen to the servant entrance, where a normal covered wagon was waiting for them, this time being led by a single horse whose reins were held by an old man in work clothes. The man nodded politely to Sue, who nodded back and entered the wagon from the back with Marstin. The inside had two benches and was otherwise nondescript -- very different from the previous carriage.

“We had to return the carriage to the princess now that we’ve arrived,” Sue explained. “Don’t worry about the wagon driver, he’s the kind of person who transports things without comment. The inn we’ve reserved for you is in the inner city, as befitting your current status as a hero candidate.”

“You knew about this?” Marstin asked.

“I did mention it to you,” she reminded him. “You just didn’t understand the significance of the word. Don’t give it too much thought, Marstin; hero candidates are put forth every year and are more a political move than anything else. It’s unlikely you’d be officially chosen even with the queen’s support, and perhaps you won’t be accepted because of the queen. It isn’t a thing to put much thought into besides the immediate benefits.”

“Which are?” Marstin asked quizzically.

“Discounts in the inner-city shops for one,” Sue smiled happily. “Everything from clothes to food will be discounted for you so as to make a good impression and not to offend your backers. Even merchants play the political game here. You should look forward to tomorrow’s shopping. The clothiers have your body measurements and should have a few good designs for you to try on.”

Marstin grimaced but nodded. They kept silent as the cart exited the royal district gate and traveled over the white cobblestone roads towards the inn.

“Here we are,” Sue announced. “The Stout and Weasel is the inn we’ve chosen to be your home for the foreseeable future. It has a high reputation for comfort and safety in Iora and is considered a historical site given its age.”

“Stouts and weasels are the same thing,” Marstin pointed out as he exited the back of the wagon with Sue, raising an eyebrow. “That’s like naming a place bird and bird.”

“No one ever said mercenaries were good at names,” Sue explained without going into detail as she led him in. The Stout and Weasel Inn was a large stone covered building from the outside with many windows and shutters. The lobby area into which the two entered was ornately decorated with various plants, carpets, and suits of armor all illuminated by floating candles up above. Marstin noticed as they passed that each suit of armor was distinct and denoted with a small card of information related to its history. He made a mental note to read through them during his free time, if he ever got some.

Sue walked over to the receptionist counter, which was made of polished marble by the look of it, and gently tapped a bell. A professionally dressed man appeared soon after from a door in the back. “Welcome,” he greeted. “Welcome to the Stout and Weasel Inn, the original mercenary dispatch office. How may I assist you today?”

“A reservation under Scona,” Sue said.

The man nodded and pulled out a notebook, flipping through it. “I see two adjacent rooms for . . . the length of the trial. I see you have placed the required deposit down for the minimum number of days required. I must remind you that the inn will only reimburse pre-paid days only due to acts of god and will not compensate you should you check out early.”

“Yes, I understand,” Sue nodded.

“Wonderful,” the man smiled happily. “Breakfast will be delivered promptly at sunrise to your rooms-”

“Excuse me, but please send both meals to my room,” Sue interrupted smoothly.

The man nodded without comment, though Marstin had the distinct sense the receptionist’s view of him had suddenly shifted.

“Here are your room keys,” the man offered, handing over two medium size keys with numbers carved into them, 345 and 346. “Please understand that losing a key will result in a fine. Our security guarantees the safety of your belongings within your room only so long as you don’t lose the key.”

“So, there is no other copy of this key?” Marstin asked, finally prompting the receptionist to look at him properly.

“That is correct, sir,” the man nodded. “Each room only possesses a single key, and only the master key held by the owner can open your room otherwise. Rest assured, we take the safety and comfort of our guests most seriously.”

“Thank you,” Sue nodded. “We will be on our way.”

The receptionist nodded and bowed to them before leaving. Marstin followed Sue to a staircase, a normal one, and the two climbed up to the third floor. At the landing, a chiseled sign hanging on the wall directed them to the right, where upon a few steps they found rooms 345 and 346. Sue gave Marstin the key to 346.

“I hope you have a pleasant night, Marstin,” Sue said honestly. “Please get some rest. Starting tomorrow, your life will likely become the busiest it ever will be.”

“You as well,” he returned to her. “You’ve worked hard to keep me safe. You’ve earned some rest.”

“Not yet,” Sue chuckled. “I still need to guard you even here, not to mention the incident reports I need to write up now that we’ve arrived. Don’t worry about me, my training was much harsher than this.”

“If you say so,” Marstin shrugged, only to feel a particular tingle in his belly. Marstin’s face turned strange. “Hey, can I make a strange request for tomorrow’s breakfast?”

“What do you need?” Sue asked.

“Um,” Marstin gulped, eyes darting around them quickly. He then beckoned to her, and she leaned towards him. He whispered something into her ear, and she turned to give him a questioning glance.

“It’s a habit I had to pick up while a street rat,” he lied through his teeth evenly. “Not having some after so many days has made me somewhat uncomfortable.” As if to confirm his words, Marstin’s stomach made a loud gurgle.

Sue didn’t quite look completely convinced, but she ended up agreeing to Marstin’s strange dietary request. The two awkwardly separated under this answer, with Marstin feeling quite embarrassed with himself and his needs as he prepared for bed.

True to her description, the bed at the Stout and Weasel was by far the most comfortable and soft bed Marstin had ever slept on. It didn’t take him too long to enjoy the peace and quiet of unconscious oblivion. Outside, the long stretch of the night shadows continued to grow under the disappearing light of the crescent moons.

Chapter 15

Marstin awoke with a start at the knock on the door, completely unaccustomed to the noise. His hand slapped his chest through the heavy blanket, reflexively grasping for a throwing dagger before his memories could catch up with him. Groaning a little from the self-inflicted pain, Marstin got out of bed in his underclothes and quickly put on a loose shirt and pants from his adventurer’s bag before walking over to the door.

“Who is it?” Marstin asked.

“This is Sue. I have brought your breakfast after checking it for magic and poison,” the familiar voice came through the wood door. “Shall I describe your physical measurements for further proof of my identity?”

Marstin cracked his neck as he rolled his eyes and opened the door, revealing Sue, who was dressed in what appeared to be casual work clothes, leather pants with a button-up shirt tucked into them, under a coat, and holding a covered tray of what Marstin assumed to be his breakfast. She smiled in greeting.

“Warmed bread and butter with jam, iced juice, and your specially requested side dish,” she said, handing over the tray to Marstin. “Please enjoy. I will be returning in an hour to take you to the clothier and tailor, so please complete your morning business within this time.”

Marstin went over his morning checklist. “Will I be getting new armor?” he asked. “I am unable to repair the damage to the back of my chest protector. A gash that long will no longer provide me with support even if sewn shut or patched.”

“You will,” Sue confirmed with a nod. “You’ll be receiving two pairs, actually: one for working purposes and one for official purposes you could choose to wear instead of formal attire for certain events. Also, you should continue using your old armor until it's replaced. I don’t expect an ambush, but better safe than sorry.”

“In that case, I should be ready within the hour,” Marstin said, mentally scratching out armor maintenance from his to-do list and adding a half-check to weapon maintenance. Since he hadn’t fought in the last few days, he’d already done the needed work to keep his dagger sharp and balanced for throwing. Sue nodded and left to him to enjoy his meal.

The door closed behind him, Marstin walked over to the small table and chair in the corner of his room, next to the window. He sat the tray down and took a seat, uncovering the tray to reveal the morning meal within: a plate holding two slices of actual sliced square bread (a marvel to Marstin), a small glass condiment holder with a small bar of butter on one side of the divider and a small pool of dark colored jam on the other, a glass made of real see-through crystal glass holding an orange-y looking liquid with ice (how novel), and Marstin’s requested side dish of shine fish sashimi from Rockwood, complete with a small pile of eyes from the fish. A set of eating tools sat on top of a white cloth, likely meant for preventing messes.

A small dribbling of drool threatened to escape Marstin’s mouth as he beheld the meal before him: admittedly small by comparison, but infinitely wealthier in looks. It took a good deal of his willpower to stop himself from scarfing down the food in an animalistic manner, and his hand still shook somewhat as he grasped the first piece of sliced bread and brought up to his nose to smell it. Unlike the delightful breads from the Risenflour Bakery, this loaf lacked the freshly cooked smell and something else Marstin couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then again, he’d never had bread in the form of a square before, even if the top was somewhat rounder. Perhaps the local ingredients were different?

Marstin nibbled at the edge, temptation driving him to compare the taste. His mouth was instantly flooded with a shocking sweetness that made his eyes widen and mouth water. Though the bread did not hold any sweet taste at first bite, the easily chewed meal seemed to dissolve into the flavor more than any honey bread he’d ever had. Marstin grunted suddenly as his teeth sank into his finger, suddenly realizing he’d continued to chew while distracted. He hurriedly took the remaining bread away, having eaten half in a few moments of bliss, and looked down at the butter and jam. His swift hands wielded the small, provided knife like an expert’s blade, unrestrainedly dumping globs of both onto the remaining bread and its accompanying slice and giving up any sense of decorum the young man had been attempting to maintain. The two new flavors added to and enhanced the soft bread with sweetness and a faint earthiness that Marstin savored as the bread quickly vanished. He downed the bread with the drink in the fancy see-through glass, enjoying the refreshing taste of . . . some kind of juice. Most likely made with fruit, even the faint texture of pulp. After that, a quick enjoyment of the shockingly fresh sashimi and eyes, which Marstin ate like grapes, and fried cheese, two things he’d only sampled . . . a long time ago.

A quick flash of incomplete memories, a happy family, caused Marstin to lose the smile on his face. He slapped his cheeks, forcing himself to remember exactly why he was here and what his purpose was.

“Ghevin’s master,” Marstin muttered aloud as he finished off his food at a more reasonable pace. “He or she should want me dead but hasn’t made a move yet. Are they waiting for me to take the next step? Or is Queen Nagri truly forcing them underground?” A final swallow and Marstin stood up. The young man used the available facilities for his morning routine, double-checked his dagger, and then finally pulled out his armor to inspect once again.

He sighed as he looked over the common, yet well-made leather armor. It had cost him a good bit of silver after his rental period for his previously enchanted armor had expired. As much as Marstin had wanted to buy the night-sight-enchanted black leather, he’d almost had a conniption when Elijah had told him the price with the annoyingly bright and wide smile of his. So, Marstin had reluctantly bought this armor instead, and had kept it well used for the past 4 months. And now, its ability to protect his back was no longer there. He put it on over his clothes for the last time and secured it via its straps.

Next, he went over the goods in his adventurer bag. He had on him: a half-set of 6 medium-grade potions, 34 general beast repellent smoke bombs, his newly bought vermin smoke bombs, the basic cooking set, his favorite pair of magical throwing daggers and their non-enchanted counterparts strapped around his body, his newly upgraded grappling hook and rope attachment, a 50-ft length of increased-durability rope, two sets of antidote potions covering the basics, and a week’s worth of rations. Marstin also fingered the pair of arm bracers he kept hidden in a bag, wondering for a moment whether he should wear them. Their ability to deflect any magic attack once per 24 hours was a trump card he preferred to keep hidden, after all. He quickly decided to wear them so as to give the tailors something to include in their creation.

Ready to go, Marstin exited the room and knocked on Sue’s door. “I’m ready,” he called.

“One moment,” came Sue’s voice from within. The sound of a chair backing away came from inside the room, and a moment later the door opened to reveal Sue, though not dressed as she had been. Her casual clothes had been replaced with a set of what Marstin at first thought were receptionist clothes, until closer inspection revealed them to be much finer and more professional in stitching.

“Attire for secretaries,” she explained to Marstin after noticing that he was wondering. “Think of them as personal assistants to their employers, responsible for their schedule and meeting arrangements. They are much more common in the city, due to their expense; their appearance is considered a reflection of their employee’s wealth.”

“So, a more expensive and personal receptionist,” Marstin confirmed.

“Nobility are always careful with appearances,” Sue reminded him with a shrug. “They might be eating the same meal as a ‘commoner’, but they’ll present it on silver and call it gold. As ordered by Queen Nagri, I am your secretary for the day, and your bodyguard every other occasion. Now, if you could please follow me.”

She led Marstin down the stairs, past the respectfully bowing receptionist at the front desk, and out of the Stout and Weasel Inn onto the morning streets of Iora. Unlike the surprisingly busy nightlife Marstin had seen, the morning streets appeared to be less crowded with nobles, but there were a surprising number of carriages and carts making their way up and down the cobbled roads. They appeared to be carrying all kinds of goods, from covered crates to screeching creatures in cages. Sue led him down the streets of the noble district for several minutes until they arrived at a fancy-looking store with large, clear crystal windows that showcased a variety of clothes, all hung on what appeared to be wooden, headless bodies. Marstin read the name above the entranceway: ‘Holler’s Gentleman’s and Ladies’ Tailoring Emporium’. He raised an eyebrow at the long and extravagant name.

“This is the place,” Sue confirmed as she held the door open for Marstin. “They should be expecting us.”

Her statement was a bit understated, as when Marstin walked through the door, the conversations inside seemingly ground to a sudden halt. The inside of the store was surprisingly small, compared to the view from the outside, and relatively empty, covered with a smooth, wood plank floor and walled by smooth, white stone. To the left, a counter made from fine spruce separated two doors and a secure-looking vault from the rest of the room. The clear crystal glass on either side of the door behind Marstin held the wooden figures wearing clothes, with others like them lining the walls all around. This central room appeared to be more of a waiting room by Marstin’s estimation, with various groups of chairs evenly separated each with a tea set and plate of assorted pastries, none of which the young man recognized. Each group of chairs also sat very close to a doorway, Marstin noted.

There were three people inside, the ones who stopped talking at Marstin’s entrance. The most notable was a man possibly a few years older than Marstin. He was sitting in one of the further chairs, dressed in a fancy, yet professional, set of clothes: black pants that seemed to shine under the light, leather shoes that appeared to glow with enchantment lines emanating from underfoot, a fine metal and leather belt, a black shirt with gold buttons running down the middle, with two distinct white lines from his left shoulder, parallel, down to his right lower torso, and a black coat Marstin could barely see hanging behind the man on a clothes rack. His facial expression of surprise somehow seemed out of place, and it was replaced by a look of boredom so quickly Marstin couldn’t help but wonder if he’d truly seen the surprise or not.

The man, or young man really, was joined by an older male servant dressed in a similar black and white ensemble, though much less fancy, and an oddly dressed man wearing colorful clothes that appeared to be various colored clothes stitched together haphazardly, with a similar looking hat on his head of white hair with a large feather sticking out of it.

The colorful man clapped his hands together after giving Marstin a cursory glance from head to toe. “My, my,” he said with a barely subdued enthusiasm Marstin found familiar, “it appears my morning appointment has arrived slightly early. Dear me, what a dilemma.”

“It’s fine, Sir Holler,” the young man waved effortlessly. “My visit was more or less impromptu. I should not take away from your business. My butler here will set a proper appointment with your employees at a later date.” With that said, the young man stood up and allowed his butler to place his coat upon him. With a practiced stride, he walked by Marstin and left, though not before Marstin’s hairs bristled at a sharp and pointed sense of being watched. The other young man had the faintest ghost of a smile as he brushed by, and then was gone.

“Thank you, Ma’am Sue,” the young man’s voice said behind Marstin, followed by the sound of the door closing. Sue appeared next to Marstin shortly after, her expression neutral and her right-hand twitching slightly.

“Now that I can give you my complete attention, come in! Come in!” Holler, the colorful man, called out with a large grin.

“Greetings, Sir Holler,” Sue nodded as she led Marstin over to the man. “I trust you have been well?”

“Most assuredly well, my dear,” Holler laughed modestly. “Oh, how I love public occasions, especially when we have such esteemed visitors from other countries. My inspiration is just flowing with the styles and materials coming in from all over, oh such a joy! Why, Countess Dirsca just yesterday placed an order for ten new hunting dresses made from Masran Sea Leather and inlaid with Talloran gems from Alevone. She will certainly be the talk of the hunt with them. And the new textiles from Talin and Valorek are so wonderfully accepting of dye-”

Sue cleared her throat. “Ahem, Sir Holler.”

“Right, right,” the man chuckled and slapped his belly, which Marstin noticed was a bit larger than he initially had seen. The colors and stitches did a good job hiding his true figure, which Marstin noted as something to look into later. “I do so love to glib and blab away, don’t I? Now then, so this is the young hero, is he? Hm, not as impressive as I’ve heard, but certainly not as bad as I imagined. The best an artist like me can ask for.” The colorfully dressed man turned and walked over to a rack of materials and hummed away as he flicked through them.

“He isn’t insulting you,” Sue whispered to Marstin, who indeed had felt slightly insulted. “It’s just the court and nobility enjoy exaggerating things for the sake of the story.”

“Yes, yes, pay my words no mind,” Holler waved his hand from the rack, having heard Sue’s whispered words from halfway across the room. “Legends and stories are one thing, but it is up to people to make them real. And you being you only gives more credence to the miracle that was your success in overcoming incredible odds. Well, it will once you look the part. Don’t want your appearance to make others doubt your abilities, oh no not at all. Best to avoid honor duels during happy occasions.”

Marstin blinked his eyes in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Honor duels, my boy,” Holler repeated as he began pulling materials off the rack. “This is the heart of Istut, a place forged in blood and ice by the sacrifice of warriors and mercenaries. How can one be expected to lead without strength, honor, or respect? If someone doubts these, then they can challenge you to an honor duel to prove yourself, with the goal of replacing you should you lose. It’s more theatrical today, but the tradition is deeply ingrained in the minds of every nobility member descended from those times. Ah yes, let’s try these.” Holler snapped his fingers.

Marstin blinked, and suddenly found himself surrounded by two elegantly dressed ladies who proceeded to manhandle him into various poses and positions as they wrapped and measured every dimension on his body. Sue watched from the chair nearby, having moved there while Marstin was distracted. She looked on with a slightly amused face as Marstin’s face began to turn red. The elegantly dressed ladies smelled very nice, nicer than most everything Marstin had ever smelled, and they did not hesitate to touch him all over, placing the young man in an awkward predicament.

“Ah, the spring of youth,” Holler sighed dramatically as he returned to Marstin with a smaller rack holding the various chosen materials. “Enjoying the experience, are we?” His pointed glance down gave Marstin a harder blush than before, and even the two ladies tittered in amusement. Marstin only stopped from inwardly dying of embarrassment from the understanding that none of the amusement appeared to be malicious. “It’s a normal part of the job,” Holler explained as he began holding up various colors and materials next to Marstin’s face and examining with a serious look. “The current trend is to make form-fitting clothes for men, the latest fashion in Bosrol, you see. Trouble for Istut men is that our bodies tend to deviate in one way or another from their typical male body, same with our women. Getting all your measurements while you’re excited is the best way to avoid, as they call it, ‘wardrobe malfunctions’ when in formal attire.” The colorful man snorted. “A bit of hogwash, if you ask me-- that’s a normal part of life in Istut and our traditions. But such is the trend of fashion, and we are mere slaves to its ebbs and flows. Hm, yes, the darker colors suit your complexion better than I could have dreamed.” He patted Marstin’s face appreciatively. “It’s quite amazing to have such a pale complexion for a citizen of Istut, and you are an adventurer? Quite interesting.”

“I’m not that pale anymore,” Marstin muttered.

“You’re not snow or a ghost, that’s for certain,” Holler joked, the ladies backing away to take notes behind the tailor. “What I mean is your skin is clear and healthy, devoid of uneven color. If I didn’t know your background, I’d say you were born into a blessed family and bathed in healing potions weekly, if not daily.”

Marstin cocked his head.

“I suppose it isn’t something you need to think too much about,” Holler shrugged. “It’s not something that will affect you beyond public events. Just know you are skin blessed, with not a scar on your face. Certainly, feeds the perception of youth, hm . . . I’ll have to age you with the stitching…” Holler broke off as he turned back to brainstorm with his assistants.

Marstin could only stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, alone with his thoughts. The tailor was certainly one to run his mouth and had dropped many odd things Marstin had failed to notice before. He had good skin? No scars? That couldn’t be right; he might not have easy access to reflections, but the young adventurer was certain the beatings from the Thieves’ Guild had left marks on him, once hidden under dirt and grime. Was this another effect of his reawakened magic?

“Yes, yes, I see what I must do,” Marstin’s musings were interrupted by Holler’s delighted announcement. “Ma’am Sue, if you would be so kind as to give your thoughts as well?”

Sue nodded and walked over to the colorful man, gazing down at the various notebooks Marstin couldn’t see.

“Lower the stitching around the torso to be more in line with the waist,” she said a moment later. “His build is a bit longer in the waist than you might think, so you can play around between the belly button and groin more with the stitch. And the shoulders need an intermediate piece to ensure he has full range of movement there for throwing and catching.”

“Ah, I thought he was that type of fighter,” Holler nodded. “Shall I include some inner pockets then? You can never have enough pockets.”

“Don’t go overboard with them,” Sue warned. “I don’t want a ‘Strip Shirt Incident’.”

“That was only one time,” Holler said exasperatedly. “Once! The man wanted pockets, so I gave him pockets. Him filling them with fur and goose down to appear more muscular was his fault.”

A minute of heavy discussion later, and the two appeared to be satisfied.

“Now then,” Holler grinned as he cracked his neck and fingers, “Let’s get to work.” Suddenly, the man’s atmosphere turned solemn and serious as he began to mutter and chant. From his clothes, bright light shot out that darkened the room, as if it were drawing in all attention into itself. The light swirled around like wind and flowed under Holler’s control next to Marstin, swirling up from the floor until it was Marstin’s height. It then began to shift in color and depth until a fake Marstin stood next to the original, a blank expression on his face. The light then began to settle across his body, forming clothes.

Marstin looked over the design on his fake body with interest. The initial appearance had been that of his previous leather armor, only to slowly morph into a much more stylish form, more like clothes than actual armor. It rather reminded him of his previously owned enchanted armor. The material was much darker, a borderline black with elements of silver and held together by a dark silver stitching. The shirt was simple, but with a dark blue strap sewn in from shoulder to opposite waist, connecting with a band of dark blue that ran around the lower torso like a belt. The shoulders had a pointed corner in line with his shoulder, with a subtly added additional stitch that allowed the material to bend farther and to be less restrictive. The collar was also taller than normal, giving Marstin’s neck a strong contrast with it. The pants were also simple, with the black color running down with a thin, dark silver strip on the outer side of the pants, running down from top to bottom, a silver belt wrapped around the waist. Finally, there was a black coat with silver buttons to be worn on top.

“Yes, I do believe this will work perfectly,” Sue nodded after walking around the illusion and examining it closely. “What materials are you using?”

“As a formal armor, it is not meant to be used in prolonged battles,” Holler said as one of his assistants wiped a beam of sweat off his brow. “As such, I have chosen ice drake leather as the base material. If it were paired with the scales, then this armor would be able to block attacks from tier 5 or 6 monsters easily-- with the understanding that the force would still impact the wearer,” Holler shrugged. “In any case, just the leather is good enough to take on tier 2 or 3 monster level attacks easily enough. It will be damaged with tier 4 monster level attacks and be destroyed in a few hits from tier 5 monster level attacks. Trust me, this is the best leather available in Istut currently, and all the nobles are gnashing at the chance to wear it. The stitching is from wild frost spiders taken during the winter, giving the armor an innate resistance to cold and chilling winds when combined with the ice drake leather. The blue material is actually more interesting, as it is processed ice wyvern leather. Not as good as the real stuff, of course, but it is strategically placed here to defend the heart from attacks, all the way up to tier 6 monster level attacks.”

Marstin’s eyes could only twitch at the defensive abilities being thrown at him. The twitching only got worse when Holler dropped the price of the armor. It was enough gold to drown the young adventurer.

“Charge it to her majesty’s account,” Sue said without a moment’s thought. “What of the battle armor?”

Holler shook his head as he stopped his magic, causing the illusion to fade and the lights to regain their brightness. “Unfortunately, his majesty the prince was taken by the original materials chosen for our young hero here and is having his personal guards outfitted with them. I will not be able to procure more in a short amount of time, unfortunately.”

“I see,” Sue frowned. “In that case, can the prepaid enchantment of night-seeing be added to this armor instead?”

“I just needed your permission,” Holler smiled. “I’ll have this set delivered to you before the ball tonight. I will send word once I have located a suitable set of materials for the young hero’s proper armor. If I can, I’ll include a little surprise, as well.”

“Thank you, Sir Holler,” Sue acknowledged.

Chapter 16

“That was, quite the experience,” Marstin observed as he and Sue left Holler’s and walked down the busier midmorning road. The passing wagons drawn by horses and other beasts of burden drew the wind with them, causing Marstin’s nose to wrinkle at the scent of the city’s beasts.

“Holler is well-known as an eccentric type,” Sue acknowledged with an unchanging expression as she led the younger man past several large wagons of goods. “But this only grows his mysterious charm to the younger nobility. His skill at tailoring can’t be denied by anyone, and he has been awarded the Best Tailor award by the nobility for the past several years, despite his continued refusal to take a patron.”

“Patron?” Marstin asked. “You mean, like a deity?”

“Don’t speak of religion here,” Sue quickly turned and gave him a serious look. “While Graniton and the other outlier towns and cities of Istut may no longer care, the nobility of every nation still has strong feelings toward the Southern churches and the civil war.”

“Alright,” Marstin shrugged. He didn’t care too much about the subject, and only knew one priestess anyway. “So then what did you mean?”

“Artists, while popular, are generally not capable of making a living on their own,” Sue explained, leading once again. “Even less capable, the more eccentric they are, given the expenses they accumulate acquiring materials to work with. So, artists are picked up by ‘patrons’, anyone with money, who use their connections and status to promote the artist and make the work of the artist valuable in the eyes of others. It’s a common practice in Iora, given the large art community; and the practice extends to anyone capable of creating something honestly. Lord Albrec, who I mentioned before, is one such patron of the arts.”

“But Holler doesn’t have a patron,” Marstin repeated. “Which means, he doesn’t have a backer? Politically speaking?”

“Exactly,” Sue nodded. “Don’t let his colorful nature and mannerisms fool you. He’s a perfect representation of the true nature of Iora: beautiful and friendly on the outside, but with a cold and merciless heart when his interests are impacted. He served in the military and in several mercenary groups, and he was a very effective killer. He used his savings to retire early and become a tailor and armor smith, finding success through his military connections. He has expressed his neutral political stance ever since his retirement, but that didn’t stop a few ‘third generation’ nobles from trying to pressure him into their employment. After harassing his customers with bribed guards, both the guards and the nobles vanished from Iora. Despite the outcry from their families, no evidence was ever found, and the city guards didn’t attempt more than a basic search. And after his creations found favor with our queen, no one has ever gone on to cause trouble with him again. Rumor has it that some of the leather he has . . . well, the nobles do love their gossip, don’t they?”

Marstin frowned involuntarily. Before he could respond, his ears twitched at the faintest of sounds coming from an alley to his right. The alley was situated between two ordinary-looking buildings: a closed bakery and a small home for sale. The young adventurer paused and looked down the alley, the shadows stretching inwards and hiding the white cobblestone. He didn’t see anything, even with his improved eyes, but the sound repeated. It was the ominous sound of wind blowing over a hole, making a deep echo muffled by the surrounding stone that would be imperceptible to anyone not familiar with it. The sound of a thieves’ hole opened, the sound of an operation ready to begin, the sound of pain.

His fingers rolled like an old habit as a strange sense of foreboding arose in his mind, even as Marstin took in the beautiful city around him. Suddenly, the bright white cobblestone and beautiful stained glass did not seem as warm and luxurious as before. In fact, now that he focused more, his improved sense of smell began to pick up things he reflexively avoided acknowledging: the old scent of dried iron, wisps of drugs from the clothes of hurrying servants, rot from the clean-looking carriages as they passed by, and other scents he had once been very familiar with, back when he was a street rat forced into serving the Thieves’ Guild of Graniton. His stance hunched over slightly in preparation for an attack, the memories of what he’d seen and been forced to do. A throwing dagger slid into his palm.

“Marstin,” Sue’s voice broke through even as she subtly grabbed his arm in a gesture someone else would see as friendly, even as her strength forced him to release the dagger. He turned to look at Sue, who was giving him a concerned frown.

“There’s nothing there,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “This is not the time or place for action. Let go.” Her tone left no doubt she was serious.

Marstin relaxed and adjusted his posture back to his normal appearance. “Sorry,” he muttered.

The royal guard gave him a once over and sighed, releasing his arm.

“It appears that my notes were incomplete regarding your mental state,” she observed. “A pity you had to gain such instincts at such a young age; just like that of a wounded warrior . . . no, a beast. Do not allow others to learn of this, Marstin, or they will use it against you to harm your credibility.”

“I didn’t have any to begin with,” Marstin pointed out as he rubbed his arm. “I’m just a former thief rat orphan, remember? What you mean is I shouldn’t harm the Queen’s credibility, right?”

Sue gave him another long look before nodding. “You’re learning. Good. Let’s go, you have another appointment.”

Marstin nodded and the two resumed their journey. As they walked, Marstin turned to examine the older woman again. “Is your concern for me solely due to your assignment? Was any of the comfort you gave me on our trip here genuine?”

Sue didn’t stop walking or turn to look at him. “That’s something you’ll need to determine on your own, Marstin. You are in Iora now. Determining the intentions and genuine nature of others is a skill you require, or the city will devour you and leave nothing else.”

Behind them, in the alley, a rat appeared from a crack in the wall of the ground and scurried into the closed bakery. It ran up to an old piece of bread and munched away, even as its fellows finished off their meal in a corner, only the faintest of white shining through the sea of fur, as white as the cobblestone that lined the streets and walls of Iora.

Unnoticed by the rats, a hooded figure covered in black cloth watched Marstin and Sue walk down the street through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Only a smile was visible under the hood, the figure spinning a dagger with a hole in its pommel around their index finger.

“Look, Robby old boy, your little friend has finally come to visit,” the hooded figure joked to the pile of rats. “But it seems he still has a lot to learn.”

*   *   *

Back at the ‘Stout and Weasel’ Inn, Marstin was surprised when Sue led him into her room. The teen kept his thoughts neutral as he gazed around, but sadly he did not note anything in the room that reflected on Sue’s personality or life beyond what he knew of her. The room was clean, orderly, and empty to the point he couldn’t tell anyone had actually been living in it.

“Alright Marstin, now it’s time to get you ready for the luncheon,” Sue explained as she walked over to a closet and opened it up gracefully. The revealed interior held a few sets of clothes that Marstin could recognize: Sue’s ‘work’ clothes as a butler or bodyguard, her armor, a set of everyday clothes, and something that Marstin couldn’t quite make out, but did not appear to belong to Sue. She took out the last set and showed it to Marstin, revealing it to be a man’s outfit along the lines that Marstin had seen the noblemen wearing in Iora.

A finely sewn silver and blue shirt held together by small strings down the front likely meant to be tied into knots, a black coat with a tail and silver lining along the edges, and a pair of black pants sewn with a lighting stich using silver thread. A blue and silver belt completed the outfit.

“I’ve never worn anything that nice before,” Marstin admitted, assuming the clothes to be his to wear. “It’s . . . I like it.”

“I’m glad,” Sue gave Marstin a genuine smile. “Sir Holler’s designs are wonderful, but far too expensive and luxurious to be relied upon for every social occasion. It would be the equivalent of wearing enchanted gold armor for every fight-- overly gaudy and arrogant despite its protection. Holler’s tailoring is perfect to combat assassinations, but as you know, there is no easier target than one with obvious habits.”

“Right,” Marstin nodded. “If I needed to take care of someone constantly in armor, then I’d resort to poison instead. But if I wasn’t sure whether they were protected or not, then I’d need more planning.”

“Exactly,” Sue said, before flicking Marstin in the forehead, hard.

“Why?” Marstin grimaced as he rubbed the sore spot on his head.

“Don’t allow yourself to be drawn into the direction of the conversation so easily,” she lectured. “You just admitted you’ve thought about, planned, and possibly even contemplated an assassination yourself. That would be your political death if you said that in front of other nobles, not to mention earning you the full attention of the guards.”

“Right,” Marstin grumbled. “Avoid topics of killing. Got it.”

“Not at all,” Sue shook her head. “If you have to, just refer to it as ‘hunting’ instead. Or whatever other analogue makes the most sense for the conversation. Indirectly telling others of your abilities is a sure method in changing the attitudes of the nobility towards you, ensuring them to be both cautious and respectful of you.”

Marstin sighed, but at least he was used to watching his mouth. . . on the other hand, he might have some trouble. He accepted the outfit from Sue and quickly changed as best he could in the bathroom (to which Marstin was still getting used to-- an entire room dedicated to one’s private time!). The only problem he had was keeping the shirt together, which he gave up on after several tries and complicated knots. Sue helped him finish once he emerged, herself already dressed in her royal guard armor. With the ease of an experienced warrior, she easily undid the strings down Marstin’s shirt and retied them into fancy, and worthless, knots that would not slip back through the holes. Marstin examined himself.

“Any thief worth his salt would be insulted if confronted with these knots,” he observed. “They barely have any strength and can be easily undone by even a child.”

“That’s the point,” Sue chuckled as she brushed some hair off Marstin’s shoulders. “Easy to put on, and easy to take off while looking fancy, while also being weak. This isn’t armor, after all.”

“If you say so,” Marstin shrugged. “So, where is the luncheon taking place?”

“The Queen’s Garden,” Sue said. “There’s a carriage waiting for us down below to take us. Are you ready for your first meeting with the high society of Istut?”

“As ready as I can be,” Marstin shook his head. “Will you be with me through the end?”

“As much as I can,” Sue’s voice came out a little muffled as she turned to close the closet. “Per my station, I am unable to stay by your side during the socializing portion of the event, but I will be by your side while you are sitting. I’ll advise you on certain people to keep an eye on during the occasion once we are in the carriage.” With that, the two left Sue’s room and exited the ‘Stout and Weasel’, receiving a nod from the receptionist as they exited the lobby. A royal carriage awaited them outside, pulled by two horses and driven by another royal guard, who exchanged nods with Sue. The two entered the carriage with Sue opening and closing the door for Marstin.

“This isn’t quite as nice as the one you used to bring me to Iora,” Marstin noted as the vehicle began to move.”

“That was a carriage meant for royal family,” Sue reminded Marstin. “You don't merit that much protection while in Iora, and the previous carriage is still being repaired from the damage inflicted on it during the winter bandit attack.”

“Now, what you should expect,” Sue’s voice suddenly turned all business. “This luncheon isn’t a large gathering by any means, however all of the participants are very powerful in their respective fields. As a potential hero, you are not obligated to bow to anyone besides the royal family-- this is very important,” Sue emphasized. “Bowing means acknowledging your inferiority. Conversely, no one is required to bow to you as a potential hero, but if they do, then merely nod your head in greeting as a form of respect.”

“Only bow to royal family, nod to anyone else, got it. How do I identify members of the royal family?” Marstin asked.

“They are the only ones allowed to wear gold in their stitching,” Sue said, pointing to Marstin’s clothes. “And really there should only be Queen Nagri, who you have met, and her eldest daughter, Princess Dimitria. The eldest son, Prince Torman, may or may not be there. You met him earlier, at Holler’s.”

“That was him?” Marstin recalled the older young man in the tailor's shop. Oddly, Marstin had more of an impression of his outfit than the prince’s features, causing the teen to furrow his brow. It was not like him to miss such an important detail.

“If you’re having trouble recalling his face, it’s because he was incognito,” Sue chuckled at Marstin’s expression. “The royal family is very identifiable, and thus when they wish to travel in Iora they wear enchanted shoes to make their features unmemorable. The gold buttons were the giveaway. They will not be hiding during these social events or the proceedings, so be sure to get a good look to and remember their faces well.”

“Understood,” Marstin nodded. “Anyone else?”

“I’m sure you remember Sir Holler referring to a Countess Diana Silvertongue. She is the widow to Duke Turk Shieldshelm, and current governor of East Istut. She is very well connected both in and out of Istut and controls a number of merchant channels for import and export. You can consider her an ally of the Queen’s, though not out of loyalty but instead self-interest. She married into Count Turk’s family, becoming the head after he passed seven years ago. Her interests lie in rare acquisitions, fashion, trade arrangements, and boasting,” Sue explained. “Her rise was met with much hardship in the face of her husband’s family history, but she won in the end. Don’t ask more.

“Then there is Duke Lidol, Governor of North Istut. He is part of the ancient family, Sawblood, one of the original mercenary companies that formed Istut. He is a military man through and through and is against the Queen’s push for peace. Under him are Count Ghorn and Count Ethan, men who married into the Sawblood family after achieving military honors. They are the duke’s sword and shield, even in appearance, as you’ll see. Their group will be the bluntest.

“Duke Eilan the governor of West Istut is the same,” Sue continued. “He’s a very experienced and respected veteran of Istut who has fought many times against devils and monsters along the border. Despite his advanced age, his ability to wield unspoken and instinctual magic has allowed him to live beyond the limits of humanity.”

“Unspoken magic?” Marstin questioned.

“Yes, one of the four methods of wielding what we call magic,” Sue explained carefully. “While Spoken magics are spells crafted from circles and other methods, Unspoken magics are spells summoned from within via bloodline-- sorcerers and the like-- and are not necessarily non-verbal. Instinctual magics are less for spells and more for inherited abilities and do not always require mana, for instance the royal family’s innate ability to wield ice. And Natural magics are not even spells and instead . . . well, they’re the most unnatural type of magic really: being able to fly despite size and shape, being able to talk or breathe underwater without any effort, or even breathing fire as easily as breathing. This kind of magic is ingrained in the creature from birth and is tied to their bodies, not their lives. Griffon feathers still retain the ability to float even after death, for instance.”

“What can Duke Eilan do, then?” Marstin asked curiously. “Since he has Unspoken and Instinctual magic.”

“The Duke can wield the power of winter instinctually: ignoring the cold, controlling the winds and weather, and other such feats. His Unspoken magic is less known, but it has to do with absorbing heat as I understand it,” Sue tapped her knees thoughtfully. “By his words, ‘So long as the fire within never fades, so too shall I never die’. You’ll understand when you see him.”

“So, then the southern Duke will be there as well?” Marstin asked.

“Duke Font will not be there,” Sue corrected. “He hates leaving Rockwood and its hot springs unless it’s an emergency. He is neutral in terms of political stance and does not often take the initiative for anything.”

“So, he’s lazy,” Marstin summarized. “That would explain the issues in the south not being solved. The mines of Graniton are still closed after all.”

“You may refer to him as such,” Sue conceded. “It’s well known, the duke’s apathy toward most things. However, his abilities are not to be underestimated, and it is never wise to directly insult one of the four dukes of Istut.”

“Are there any foreign guests?” Marstin asked.

“Not during the luncheon,” Sue said. “This is a domestic only luncheon, but there may be some attachés there as guests. They are not ones to concern yourself with unless they provoke you, which isn’t likely. Everyone else you’ll see are related to either the royal family or the dukes; learn their names and faces at your leisure. As I said at the start, a potential hero bows to no one except the royal family, and no one is required to bow to you. If you do become a hero, then only the dukes will not need to bow, besides the royal family. Consider this luncheon a ‘meet and greet’ of introductions, and your only goal is to avoid making a fool of yourself.”

“Understood,” Marstin nodded. Inwardly, the young man resolved himself to remember as many faces as he could, so as to avoid everyone of them after returning to Graniton.

It didn’t take too much longer for the carriage to pull past the inner gate and enter the palace grounds, approaching a walled section where already carriages were lined up to drop off their occupants. Marstin took a deep, calming breath as they entered the line, slightly surprised when Sue leaned forward to pat his knee reassuringly.

“Don’t take fright, young Marstin,” Sue consoled. “After all, they are all more afraid of you, than you are of them. Because, after all, no amount of political power can take on demons by itself. But you did. More importantly, you won, and that makes all the difference in the world to them.”

Chapter 17

When their turn came to dismount from the carriage, Sue once again took the lead to open the door for Marstin and shut it behind him. Marstin, relying on the poker face he’d spent years developing, exited the carriage with his head held high and his eyes staring with an unwavering gaze ahead of him. Despite keeping his eyes looking straight, his trained peripheral vision (used originally to watch targets indirectly) took in the wonders and riches of the garden around him.

The Queen’s Garden was a lavish place of green bounty intermixed with colors from across the land. The tall white stone walls that surrounded the garden were matched by equally tall green shrubbery that hid the smooth stone on the inside, creating a stark contrast with the rest of Iora, and indeed, the rest of the royal palace. The inside of the garden was equally divided by much shorter shrubbery, though these were all winterberry bushes ripe with the succulent fruit and verdant tea leaves Marstin enjoyed. The layout was simple: a smooth white stone path led in from the front gate to a central plaza with three small lakes placed around in a triangle shape. The winterberry bushes framed long, swirling paths that connected three garden areas arranged in an inverted triangle shape to contrast with the clear ponds, with each holding flowers of a different color of the Istut flag: blue, white, and silver. The central plaza was half covered by a gazebo-like structure that covered the center of the area with equidistant carved white stone pillars holding up the roof.

The plaza itself was somewhat packed with an assemblage of nobility that moved around and gathered to talk with grace and ease. A number of round tables with chairs were scattered around, and the very center of the plaza held five circular tables that seemed to be ladled with various foods and pastries, though Marstin’s enhanced eyesight did little to help him identify most of them. Fancily dressed butlers, both male and female, made their way around from group to group, offering drinks that even from this distance smelled distinctly of strong spirits and cocktails.

Marstin kept his hands from curling as he was led in by Sue, who’s entire demeanor and aura had shifted from ‘professionally relaxed’ to ‘all business’ as soon as the carriage door had opened. He kept his eyes forward and noted the various expressions of those who noticed him. The micro expressions he caught seemed to range from interest and curiosity to disdain and doubt, leaving Marstin surprised that none of the nobles appeared to hold any true hostility towards him. In fact, he distinctly sensed that the gazes were more interested in Sue’s presence than him.

‘Your worth shines through in their eyes. Show them your strength and take their respect by force.’

Marstin’s eyebrow twitched as his inner demon reared its ugly head once more. “I wondered where you had gotten off to,” Marstin muttered silently to himself. “Go away and bother me later. This isn’t the time.”

“You’ll need me soon enough,” the voice said calmly before strangely obeying and fading away. Marstin couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of foreboding from this, before realizing that the inner demon had referred to itself as an individual. Marstin’s hackles raised involuntarily just as he accidently made eye-contact with a man in an officer’s uniform. The man only made contact for a short time before his eyes widened and broke off quickly, Marstin unaware that his eyes, at the moment, had been gleaming with a horrid red aura that vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

The officer’s reaction was noticed by the group he was with, but their reaction was missed by Marstin as Sue guided him to a section of the plaza where a smaller round table was set up. Upon reaching it, Sue pulled the chair out for Marstin to sit in before standing at attention behind him. Marstin sat blankly at this table by himself, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

“Sir, would you care for a drink?” a butler’s voice startled Marstin from his musings, though he managed to keep himself from jumping. His eyes slowly turned to meet the butler’s before examining the offerings. The strong smell of alcohol caused Marstin’s nose to wrinkle up.

“Winterberry tea, if you please,” Marstin requested. The young adventurer enjoyed a good drink as much as the next adventurer, but the potency of these drinks turned him off for some reason, as if his nose were informing him it would be a poor choice to partake. The butler nodded and walked off.

“Well played,” Sue’s voice suddenly whispered in Marstin’s eye. “Tea is a good choice to show your civility, as opposed to an alcoholic barbarian.”

“Is that an impression the nobles have of me?” Marstin whispered back, assuming Sue could hear him using some kind of magic.

“Rumors and gossip are the language of the court, after all. The truth is not nearly as interesting after all,” Sue’s voice reminded him. “Enjoy your drink once it arrives, as it will be the signal for others to approach you. Then the real games begin.”

“Can I assume I’m not allowed to approach anyone else then?” Marstin asked.

“You can later, but doing so now would make the situation ‘the hero seeks an audience’ as opposed to ‘the nobles seek an audience with the hero’. Do your best, as I will be unable to guide you during conversations.”

Sue fell silent upon the butler’s return, holding a teacup and tea plate on an equally fancy serving plate.

“Your tea sir,” the butler bowed and left.

Marstin reached and lifted the teacup to his face, taking a moment to enjoy and savor the sweet, yet tart, aroma wafting off the tea. As taught by the guild master, Marstin carefully and without rush blew across the tea’s surface before taking a small, continuous sip. Despite his expectations, Marstin found the tea to be similar, if not the same, taste as the tea served by the guild master back in Graniton. Perhaps he received his tea leaves from the royal palace? Marstin pondered.

Marstin took two more sips before placing the teacup back down on its plate, savoring the tart aftertaste that puckered his cheeks deliciously. His moment was broken at the sound of approaching feet, and he turned his head to see who was coming.

“Greetings young hero-to-be,” said a rather large portly fellow dressed in a strange and comical attire of buttons, puffy sleeves and ribbons, and several belts. The noble/walking fashion disaster gave Marstin a bow. “I am Sir Hiron of the Hiron Merchant Guild, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Marstin nodded his head politely in greeting. Nailed it, he thought.

Out loud he said, “Well met, Sir Hiron. How may I assist you?” A quick twitch of the eye from Sue told the teen he had not said the right thing.

“Why, no need for any assistance, dear sir,” Hiron waved Marstin off before taking a seat, his attitude somehow having shifted into a more relaxed self. “Butler! A plate of Marisian oysters if you please! Now,” he turned his attention back to Marstin. “I hear you’re quite the person to know these days, young hero-to-be. Tell me, what have you thought of Iora so far? It’s quite impressive, isn’t it? Most assuredly deserving of the name, ‘The Jewel of the North’. Why, even Bosrol and Alevone struggle at times to compete with their capitals, dirty places I tell you, though not as dirty as one might expect, you see. Cost effectiveness verses form is always the argument for such things, as you know, but here in Istut we are blessed to require both; and oh, we do so benefit from it, don’t you think?” Hiron gave Marstin an eager look.

“The view of Iora when I arrived was quite the sight to behold,” Marstin said evenly as his mind raced to follow the man’s wordy exchange. “The last bit of sunlight illuminating the world was more than most can imagine.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Hiron nodded enviously. “‘Tis such a shame most are unable to take the journey slowly enough to reach the city in that sweet spot between day and night, much like life itself, as you know!” Hiron roared in laughter and shaped his pompously large belly.

“Sir Hiron,” Marstin spoke up before the other could begin speaking again. “May--I mean--” Marstin stopped, corrected by another twitch from Sue, “What is your impression of the events that have brought us together?”

“Hm, you ask a deep question, sir hero-to-be,” Hiron pondered as he tapped his fingers together. “Many interests align and disagree on the matter, proving that the coming days will be quite the spectacle indeed. I’ve even heard talk of fellows looking to open a gambling station on various matters. Care to join in?”

“Not at this time,” Marstin refused politely. “As expected, the capital is not such a simple place. How did you come by this opportunity to participate?”

“I am merely a humble servant, truly,” Hiron said modestly, even as he flashed the many valuable-looking rings on his meaty fingers. “My lady is the Countess Silvertongue, Governor of the East, as you know, and it is through her goodwill that my company is allowed the privilege of importing many of the delicious food ingredients from all across the North, such as these Masrisian oysters.” Hiron drooled as a large plate of what appeared to be steamed rocks was placed in front of him by a butler. The large man skillfully used a flat knife to open one of the rocks, revealing a strangely meaty inside complete with what seemed to be a gem.

“How lucky, a pearl,” Hiron clapped with a wide smile. “Only one in every hundred oysters possesses one, making them quite valuable indeed for those lucky few. Here sir, allow me to gift you this pearl as a token of our first meeting.” He handed over the white jewel to Marstin, who accepted it graciously before examining it with a curious gaze.

“Jewels made by rock creatures, how interesting,” Marstin said aloud before pocketing the stone. “The world is indeed filled with many wonders.”

“Yes, yes,” Hiron said through bites as he expertly scarfed down oyster after oyster. “‘A wondrous bounty of the sea to feed the needs of we, so sayeth me.’ An old Masra saying passed down through the fishermen there. Hm?” Hiron frowned as he realized he’d finished off the oysters. “Dear me, I have been too swift once again. If you’ll excuse me sir hero-to-be, I will be requiring more.” The large man stood up and bowed once more before heading to the plaza center, with two butlers cleaning up the man’s mess with ease.

“An interesting fellow,” Marstin observed.

“Sir Hiron is a highly ranked merchant under the countess,” Sue’s voice came once again. “As an importer, he is firmly against the rise of isolationist policies and works closely with his fellows to ensure our economy is tied to them. Under that layer of slovenly fat lies a truly cunning man, however, and he was one of the many who profited from the Thrawnby Incident.”

“I see,” Marstin mumbled to himself as he raised his teacup once more and finished his drink. A tingle in his gut informed him that it was time to eat. Seeing no one else approaching him, Marstin stood up and walked toward the central part of the plaza with Sue behind him. He walked past a number of nobles who all watched him out of the corner of their eyes, giving Marstin the impression he was surrounded by a thousand-eyed monster. However, the grumblings of his stomach rid his mind of any nervousness as his full attention was captured by the food.

Despite his unfamiliarity with most of the offerings, Marstin’s nose and tongue, to a lesser extent, could distinctly make out the ingredients he was familiar with, and his mouth watered. To the shock of all, including Sue, Marstin quickly loaded up several plates with a small mountain of various dishes and deserts before returning to his seat. So distracted was he that Marstin didn’t pick up any noise around him, as if his ears had stopped working in order to avoid distracting his attention. Before everyone’s eyes, the food vanished into Marstin’s mouth at such a swift and unhurried pace that one could blink several times and find the plates visibly less filled. When he was done eating, Marstin let out a discreet burp and gracefully patted his mouth clean with a handkerchief politely offered by a butler before the world suddenly returned to him. He blinked and suddenly realized a good number of faces were locked into a look of surprise. He turned slightly to give Sue a questioning gaze.

“Marstin,” Sue’s voice was hesitant, “have I been starving you?”

Marstin cocked his head at the question and pondered it for a bit.

“No?” he finally answered. “But, I don’t recall ever feeling full and satisfied. Merely content with whatever I am provided. Why do you ask?” He gave her an innocent, questioning look.

For once, the bodyguard was silent.

Marstin turned his attention back to his empty plates and smacked his lips at the lingering tastes. He hadn’t had a meal this filling and delicious since . . . well, ever. His finances couldn’t support this amount of food even for a single day, after all, and taking advantage of the generosity of others wasn’t his purview.

“Maybe I should have some more,” Marstin murmured aloud, his voice audible to all those in the surrounding and causing the butlers to instantly become flustered. After all, it wasn’t as if such delicacies could be cooked in a quick time, and the kitchen was located far from the garden.

“Sir hero-to-be is quite impressive in many ways,” a calm and collected voice broke through Marstin’s contemplation. “You’ve managed to put Sir Hiron to shame, winning me a bet.” Marstin turned his head and met the gaze of an imposing lady. She smiled at him. “Greetings Sir Marstin, I am the Countess Silvertongue. Please, call me Diana.”

Despite the atmosphere surrounding her that gave Marstin a sense of pressure, the countess was not a large or tall woman. Rather, she appeared to be slightly taller than Marstin, making her one of the shortest ladies he’d ever met. She wore a flowing silver and sky-blue dress that made her appear both elegant and sophisticated, and wore very little in terms of jewelry, though the necklace, armband, and ring on her finger glistened with silver and diamonds in a way that did not make her overly gaudy in appearance. Her long black hair was done up into a complicated weave of braids that fused behind her into a long braid that was currently hung over her shoulder. She wore white gloves, and the shoes peeking out from under her dress appeared to also be white. A white and silver belt completed her outfit, tying the dress loosely around her waist just enough to accentuate her modest curves.

To Marstin, the countess appeared to be dressed more for business than the other noblewomen he could see; with their colorful dresses that ranged in style from poofy and laced to demure and exquisite and everywhere in between. Her lightly tanned skin and piercing black eyes completed the look, and her smile was all business.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Countess,” Marstin nodded to her. “Would you care to take a seat with me?”

“Unfortunately, I have prior engagements,” the countess said with a sigh, “but I am very glad to have made this meeting with you. Your reputation is quite boundless in the capital, and the impression of you so far is equally impressive. If I may be so bold, I would wish to make an official meeting with you once the trial has begun. My associates and I very much wish to assist your rise and can offer you help during the times ahead.”

“I look forward to it,” Marstin nodded as he picked up Sue’s indifference. “Another time then.” The countess and Marstin exchanged a farewell nod as she left with her entourage of merchants and ladies. Marstin let out a sigh; he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

“Good job,” was all that Sue whispered to him, to which he responded with a tired nod.

Suddenly, a large tankard slammed into the table, startling both Marstin and Sue, whose hand gripped her sword tightly. A large, imposing man stood glaring at Marstin, dressed in an officer’s uniform with a dark tan and thick muscles.

Like the other army uniforms Marstin had seen so far, this one was a dark blue with silver stitching and white accents at the various openings, although this particular set of pants and dress shirt was lined with two rows of military medals across the left side of the shirt. A long scar down the left side of the military man’s face connected his short, greying hair with a scowl that only deepened with each passing moment, making the bulbous nose set between brown eyes ever more prominent.

Two men stood to the first’s left and right, one short and thick all around and the tall and muscled, both equally glaring in support of their superior.

“Duke Lidol, I presume,” Marstin ventured, going by the two officers standing behind the man. “To what do I owe this meeting?”

“A hero-to-be may be your identity, but you sure have the wyvern balls of a hero,” Lidol growled. “You dare attack my men with such vicious means? I shudder to think of what kind of hero you’d become?”

“Duke Lidol, please refrain from making such salacious accusations here,” Sue spoke up frostily. “Sir Marstin has made no move against your men at any point while in Iora.”

Duke Lidol snorted and folded his arms, snapping his fingers. At his directive, an officer was dragged, to the shock of the onlookers, before the group and thrown onto the floor. Marstin recognized the man; he’d been the one to look away before in fear. However, the officer was currently a crumbled mess of tears as he attempted to flee from Marstin, held down by two fellow military men.

“Release me, release me!” the officer cried. “I have to get away! Danger is here! Danger!”

Marstin and Sue exchanged baffled looks as Lidol snorted once more. “You dare use magic against my men who sacrifice their lives on the battlefield? Your actions have harmed the military and all of Istut by extension! What say you?”

Marstin shook his head. “I can assure you sir, that what you speak of is something I am not capable of doing. I cannot wield such magic, nor any truly.”

“But you can wield aura, can you not?” the Duke leaned toward Marstin and growled.

“I can’t-” Marstin began before Sue’s hand could stop him.

“You can’t cast magic or wield aura? Then what kind of hero are you?” The duke’s face suddenly broke into a cunning smile as he projected his voice to the crowd around them. “A powerless boy dares claim fame and the work of others then? You are merely a lackey of those greater than you, aren’t you? A worthless beggar dares dream to covet a seat at the table; you can’t hide your true colors!”

The mutterings around Marstin immediately clued him in to what was happening. The Duke had tricked him into admitting he couldn’t use magic or aura, which made his heroics questionable. His reputation was now at stake, and so was the queen’s plan.

Marstin narrowed his eyes, furious with himself for falling into the trap. He wanted to show this man his power and tried to call upon his blue aura as he stood up to meet the Duke face to face.

But the power failed to activate, leaving Marstin by himself as he stared down the Duke expressionlessly.

The duke gave Marstin a menacing grin. “What, did I hurt your feelings, boy?” he asked sarcastically. “Then why not prove your strength then? Here, punch me,” Duke Lidol pointed to his face. “Surely a hero-to-be like yourself who is powerless must possess the strength of a hero? Show us!”

Marstin so wanted to. The duke’s face blended together with Burch’s face, and instantly Marstin was plunged back to the pain and fear he experienced under the latter’s whips. The same arrogant, disdain-filled smile taking pleasure in the weakness of others.

And he was filled with hate.

‘I told you you’d need me,’ suddenly came the voice of his inner demon, slithering into Marstin’s peripheral vision like a savior from the dark. ‘To earn respect, you must take it. Show them their place.’

Suddenly, the redness around Marstin’s vision surged to the center and became all that which Marstin could see. A power swelled up in his arms, flowing through them much like the blue aura but leaving a burning sense of satisfaction instead of calm strength. Before anyone could react, Marstin’s fist reared back and punched faster than anyone expected, including the duke. The officer couldn’t even blink before the fist slammed into his face, wiping the smug grin away as the man was sent flying into the pond behind him, a loud splash resounding with an echoing shock that was mirrored on the faces of everyone in the garden. The other military officers all froze before rushing over to the pond to save the Duke, who was spluttering and roaring in rage as he failed to understand the situation. It appeared the duke didn’t know how to swim, either, judging by the officers leaping into the water to save their leader.

The redness vanished, leaving only a profound sense of dark satisfaction in its wake. The voice vanished as well, leaving Marstin with his fist still outstretched, which he calmly regarded with inhumane interest. He retracted it slowly and rubbed it against his shirt as if it had been dirtied, even as a feeling of numbness began to spread throughout his arm and hand.

“I’ve lost interest,” Marstin said suddenly to Sue. “Take me back.”

Sue nodded wordlessly and followed the teen out of the garden, leaving behind them the angry cries of a drowning man and the speechless shock of the crowd. Sue didn’t say anything until the carriage arrived and picked them up. But before she could open her mouth, Marstin’s world returned to darkness and he fainted once more.

Chapter 18

The addition of foods rich in omega-3 fatty acids, lutein, and vitamin A was just the start, the craving of which was passed on through the gustatory system via Stemmy’s interference. As soon as they were ingested and broken down, instead of letting the body naturally parcel out the nutrients to wherever they were thought they were needed, Progen took a special interest in them.

I have applied the omega-3 to the retina to strengthen it, and the lutein and vitamin A to the cornea for natural enhancement. That should help provide an even greater improvement to his eyesight, without having to resort to interference.

The “interference” that Stemmy was talking about was the interference that Progen and Stemmy provided to the body. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means, but by naturally improving Marstin’s eyesight – and potentially some of his other senses – he wouldn’t be so eager to call upon his mana for such a simple enhancement. While Stemmy could raise and lower the amount of information passed along to the brain from those senses, and Marstin had shown some capacity to tap into this same ability (albeit randomly), a general improvement without having to rely on magical means would be highly beneficial. It was the same reason Progen had been slowly improving the strength and durability of the skeletal structure; anything that kept Marstin alive for longer, any small enhancement over what was already existing, was something that the dungeon crystal wanted to improve upon.

“And you said that the omega-3 nutrients could help with his auditory system? What about his olfactory senses?” If Progen could get Marstin eating even more foods, he thought he could theoretically enhance all of the senses to the point where mana wasn’t even needed any more to improve them further. It would also be beneficial for when he finally took control over the entire body, because it was less mana that he would have to waste.

Yes. The next time we receive more, I will apply those to the auditory system to sharpen their accuracy and sensitivity. In addition, foods rich in zinc will help both the auditory and the olfactory systems, so nuts and certain fruits should be considered.

There were so many different nutrients to consider for the coming days, especially since they had arrived at their destination and had a greater variety of options. In addition to the senses, Progen still wanted to strengthen the bones along with their monster core-powered growth from calcium-rich sustenance, as well as improving muscle structure and resistance via large quantities of protein. While his influence had improved them significantly so that they were able to withstand more stress and abuse, actual permanent growth and adding to what was already there required different components – such as these specific nutrients.

The traveling over the last few days had thankfully been uneventful, with Marstin spending as much time as possible in the carriage so as to rest after his ordeal. This was preferable to anything “exciting” happening, because it allowed Progen to finish up every spot of healing, checking for cancer cells, and the rebuilding of his immune forces that had been lost as a result of the injury, pathogen invasion, and magical poisoning. The body was a bit weak for the first day or so, which wasn’t lost on Marstin as Stemmy reported him speaking about it, but after the next 24 hours he was nearly fully recovered.

Progen might have gotten back to being bored like he had been lately, except for the fact that his assistant overheard a conversation about something called Void Assassins that were targeting his dungeon. That could only mean that Marstin was in almost constant danger – and it wasn’t even a danger that he had put himself in! It was a bit of change out of the ordinary, since most of the quests he undertook were dangerous, but it seemed as though there were people specifically targeting his host for termination.

That was the primary reason for his recent push to enhance the body in ways that weren’t possible with his mana alone. During their journey, there weren't a lot of options in terms of food, so there wasn’t a chance to get what they needed; now that they were in what Stemmy said was the city of Iora, there would be much more variety. Progen had heard somewhere that variety was supposed to be the “spice of life”; in his instance, though, variety would be the “nutrients of life”. It didn’t sound as catchy, but it was true, nonetheless.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the dungeon crystal was able to acquire some of those nutrients -- though it came with a side of danger.

After Marstin was subjected to what Stemmy described as some sort of ritual of measurements to his body, for a custom set of clothing, Progen’s dungeon left for the first of many planned social activities. However, shortly after arriving at a luncheon, there was a sudden flare-up of the same reddish-colored mana from the brain that Progen had seen when they had been back at the Inn in Graniton.

“What is this, Stemmy? How is it doing this? I thought the Blood Curse was trapped in there.”

I’m not sure. It appears to be responding to strong emotive responses, causing Marstin to react in turn. Either your host is conversing with himself...or he is speaking to the Curse, somehow.

Now that was a worrisome proposition. A sudden flash of heavily red-tinted mana from the body’s brain flared through the ocular cavities, but it appeared and was retracted so quickly that Progen didn’t even have a chance to react to it.

“Uh, Stemmy? What did that just do?” he asked, confused. Looking at the site of the sudden flash of mana, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary.

Unknown. It seems as though the mana wasn’t directed toward the body, but was projected outward.

There didn’t seem to be any other side-effects from the appearance of red-tinted mana, though the speed at which it reacted to Marstin’s emotions was still a bothersome event. Progen just hoped that it didn’t become more common, because it didn’t appear to be something the dungeon crystal could control, if it happened that fast.

A literal buffet of nutrients shortly after the incident, however, made Progen ignore what had just happened. Small globs of food rained down into the stomach in a constant stream, and even with the enhanced ability of the body to digest and extract the vital nutrients, eventually the organ became so overloaded that any more could cause it to rupture. Fortunately, Stemmy mentioned that Marstin had finished eating, so the rapid influx of various foods came to an end.

But the bounty of necessary resources was worth it. Progen immediately put all of the extra nutrients the digestive system was extracting to work, enhancing various senses based on what Stemmy recommended. The process of digestion, using some additional mana from the dungeon crystal, was even sped up to relieve the pressure on the stomach, and soon enough there was room for more. When no more seemed to be on the way, Progen was terribly disappointed.

“Let’s see if we can get more of that, since it seems as though edible nutrients are more abundant--”

A potential confrontation is imminent.

“What?! But he was just eating!” Just when a good thing came along, Marstin had to go and ruin it -- as usual, thought Progen. “Hopefully this is nothing, and he can get back to giving me more nutrients; nevertheless, I’m preparing to enhance--”

Progen was cut off by the sudden surge of red-tinted mana flowing from the barrier around the brain, and it drifted towards the muscles, ligaments, tendons, and bones of Marstin’s right hand, arm, and shoulder with a mind of its own. It wasn’t as rapid as the flash in the ocular cavities had been earlier, but it also wasn’t slow and sluggish like it was when the dungeon crystal was able to contain it less than a week ago. It was also almost entirely red instead of just blue with red streaks, which told Progen that it was much more potent than what he’d seen before.

“I can’t stop it!” Progen complained, after attempting to arrest the red mana’s movement with his own. His weaker dungeon mana was quickly overwhelmed and pushed aside, and there was nothing he could do but watch what happened as a result.

Martin has struck a blow, sending one of the gathering’s participants flying into a pool of water. There is some commotion as a result of your host’s actions, but there doesn’t seem to be any other danger.

The reddish mana quickly disappeared after the strike, but its after-effects were quickly apparent. The systems that had been influenced by the corrupted mana were in a state of shock at the moment, but it wouldn’t last long.

When Marstin applied his mana -- naturally and unbeknownst to him augmented by his dungeon crystal -- to his body to enhance it, the process was fairly straightforward. The enhancements the mana precipitated were all designed to significantly boost the potential of the systems it affected in a relatively “normal” way, though at a much higher level than the body could withstand, especially since the mana he tended to shove at the problem was much more than necessary. This resulted in damage that Progen was forced to heal, and the more concentrated the mana, the more the body’s systems were injured as a result.

The reddish, corrupted mana, however, didn’t enhance the body at all. Instead, it coated the different parts it affected with a powerful aura, like some sort of shell, circumventing damage to the muscles, tendons, ligaments, and bones of the body. What it did damage, however, were the nerves connected to all of those systems, as the red aura hijacked the nerve cells to do its own bidding.

In short, the Blood Curse took over Marstin’s body and made it do its bidding.

Envy on Progen’s part aside -- since that was what the dungeon crystal eventually wanted to achieve by having complete access to the brain -- the process that the Curse used was very damaging.

With the nerve damage, I feel that focalized seizures are imminent. There could also be partial damage to the central nervous system, but that is unknown at this point.

“What do you mean by seizures?”

Uncontrollable muscle spasms, which could lead to additional injuries to the connected systems.

“Great. I’ll try to stave off the worst of it.” So saying, Progen rapidly began replacing the damaged nerve cells, but it wasn’t fast enough. Stemmy reported that the nerve connections to many of the fingers were beginning to fail, and the sporadic and partial connections would start to make the whole thing worse.

Host has now lost consciousness. Preparing to reroute nervous system functions away from the site of the incident--too late.

Uncontrollable signals rushed through the entire nervous system, and not just the affected arm, causing muscles all over the body to contract and release sporadically. Thankfully, none of it seemed to cause a lot of damage, but it went on for far longer than Progen had expected. “Blast it! I need to get into that brain!” According to Stemmy, that seemed to be where a lot of the uncontrollable signals were coming from, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it with the barrier in place.

Finally, the spams stopped, and Progen breathed a figurative sign of relief. With things settled down, he got to work fixing everything he could in his dungeon, though he worried that there was damage within the Blood Curse’s domain that he couldn’t fix. If there was, then it would be something he’d have to deal with at a later time; right now, he had to concentrate on what he could influence.

In the back of his mind, however, he was starting to worry that he was slowly losing control of the situation.

Chapter 19

The first thing Marstin felt was a low throbbing in his head, prompting him to groan and move his hand to rub it. Strangely, his arm felt somewhat sluggish as he did so, as if a weight was resting on it, and the young man opened his eyes curiously to see what was wrong. He found himself in his bed at the Stout and Weasel Inn, tucked in the sheets with sunlight shining in on him. His arm, like the rest of his body, was trapped under the tight sheets that locked him in place.

“You’re awake,” Sue’s voice came from his left, causing Marstin to look over. The royal guard was currently back in her casual professional secretary attire, sitting on a chair next to Marstin’s bed and holding a book in her hands. She looked as unamused as a hungry snow eagle, and her gaze was equally focused and intimidating. “You gave the nobles quite a story, and me quite a shock, to say the least.”

Marstin furrowed his brows as he checked his memory. His eyebrow twitched as the recollection of his actions hit him. “Did I really punch the Duke of the North?” he asked hesitantly, though his voice with oddly monotonous.

“Without a doubt,” Sue snorted, her face an odd mix now of amusement and annoyance as a smile twitched into existence. “It has become the talk of court, and it hasn’t even been half a day.”

“Oh,” Marstin simply said, his eyes returning to the ceiling. The two shared a moment of silence that stretched with the passing of sunlight. Finally, Marstin’s eyes returned to meet Sue’s gaze. “Am I in trouble?”

“You seem remarkably calm for someone who committed assault against one of the five most powerful people in Istut,” Sue remarked, sidestepping the question. “Not to mention one of the two highest ranked military leaders still on active duty.”

“I’ve already gone through this once before,” Marstin said, calmer than even he expected as the memory of Butch’s beaten, and begging face played out again. “In the end, he’s only a man with strength after all, and I’ve faced down plenty of men who were stronger than me. Any one of them could have killed me, and I’ve felt enough pain that it can no longer threaten me.”

He watched the micro-expressions play across Sue’s face like a melody: empathy, sadness, resentment, worry, fear, and finally resignation. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, putting the book on the table next to the bed. Marstin could read the title now, “Common Battlefield Injuries and their Remedies”.

“I won’t condone your actions, Marstin,” she said finally. “But thankfully, few will condemn them either. After all, the Duke did make a public, salacious accusation against you, tarnishing your honor in the eyes of the court further by attacking your character and strengths, and finally asked you to hit him. In the eyes of everyone, it seems the duke was literally ‘requesting a beating,’ pardon the expression. Your strength certainly proved your might to the public, removing any doubts that a 15-year-old adventurer accomplishes such heroic deeds as you did. The Queen’s supporters have even begun spreading stories of you as the one who fights against oppressors, no matter who they are, though I have doubts those rumors will stick given the duke’s status among the military. Still, the results speak for themselves; you have proven your strength.”

Marstin didn’t say anything. Rather, he didn’t feel the need to say anything, and this was bothering him. His normally questioning and cautious mind was strangely placid and emotionless, as if nothing could bother him right now. A reflexive tug reminded him of his situation.

“Why am I stuck in the bed?” he asked Sue.

Sue grimaced. “To protect yourself, I’m afraid, and to some extent everything around you. You passed out in the carriage in what I assume was the ‘consequence’ for your usage of your ‘blue aura’ as you call it. Differently from last time, though; you had a seizure.”

She stood up and flicked Marstin on the forehead, causing him to wince. “After getting you back here, you then began lashing out like an animal, forcing me to restrain you like so. Thankfully you have a good healing ability, otherwise your eyes would have kept you from leaving the room.”

“My eyes,” Marstin felt a small sense of concern. “What was wrong with them?”

“You burst a few vessels in your struggle, making them bright red,” Sue explained. “But thankfully, they seem to have mostly cleared up. Most of the blood should be gone by the time we arrive at the gala tonight. Of course,” Sue leaned in towards Marstin. “That’s if you can give me a good explanation for what happened. I told you before that I need to know everything about you, so I can do my best keeping you safe. Seizures are new, and that punch did not feel the same as when you used your aura power from before.”

“I’m unsure,” Marstin admitted after a moment’s consideration. “I only remember being furious and then . . . something snapped, and I punched him. It was strange, as if I were no longer a participant but rather an observer of the situation. I also don’t feel any weakness right now, but I’m having a difficult time feeling much of anything, emotionally speaking.”

Sue raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” With a few tugs, the bed sheets were freed and Marstin was released. He got out from underneath and stood up, examining himself. He raised his eyebrow at Sue after noticing he was no longer in his official clothes, but instead in his nightclothes.

“Not the first time I’ve changed you,” Sue remarked with a carless wave of her hand. “Any issues with your body?”

“Not that I can find,” Marstin reported after stretching his limbs and twisting his joints. “There don’t appear to be any inconsistencies in my physical condition.”

“Okay, stop,” Sue held up her hand. “Have you not noticed something else wrong?” She rolled her eyes at Marstin after he shook his head. “Your speech-- you’ve always talked as if you were an educated citizen, but now your speech pattern has gone full researcher. It’s as if you’re a dwarf automaton instead of a person.”

Marstin clicked his tongue and thought about it. “Yes, it appears my vernacular has indeed undergone a change of some degree. Perhaps this is related to my emotionless state and the usage of strength from before. Is this problematic?”

“It is and it isn’t, I suppose,” Sue grunted. “But I’m uncomfortable leaving you in such a state before the ball.”

“I’m still going?” Marstin confirmed.

“We’ll see in a moment,” Sue answered as she walked over to the closer and took out an unfamiliar set of leather armor. She threw it to Marstin, who caught it with a curious expression. “That’s your temporary armor while we await your new order. Put it on; we need to spar.”

Marstin shrugged and removed his nightclothes, not bothering to mind his unclothed body being shown to Sue, who politely turned away without being prompted. Marstin nodded in approval as he secured the armor; it was well-made, with thick and flexible layers of leather, and with metal sheets embedded in the parts that didn’t need to move, such as the torso, arm guards, and leg guards. A couple more tugs at the straps after testing the flexibility of his body, and Marstin was done.

“Follow me,” Sue ordered as she led the young adventurer out of the inn room. The two walked down to the lobby, where the receptionist was waiting for them.

“I have received payment for the rental of the skirmishing room,” he said politely to Sue as she approached. “Please return the key once you have completed your business.”

The royal guard accepted the offered key and walked Marstin over to one of the doors at the back of the lobby. The key slid in effortlessly and unlocked the door with a click, revealing what appeared to be a courtyard surrounded by wood and stone.

Sue walked to the far side and turned to face Marstin. “Alright, try to hit me.”

“Sure,” Marstin said, throwing a dagger at her without any hesitation. The throwing dagger bounced off an invisible barrier in the air, causing a small shimmer of magic in the field. Sue shook her head.

“No hesitation at all. You really are an automaton right now,” she observed. “In that case, defend yourself.”

“Understo-” Marstin began to say before an invisible forced smashed him into the ground, creating a small poof of dust to rise up. He frowned and attempted to get up, but was unable to.

“Weak,” Sue’s voice came from out of sight. “Get up.”

Marstin grimaced as the weight of the invisible force increased, and he weighed his options quickly. He tried to roll to the side, but the force followed him. He tried to pull out a throwing dagger, but he was unable to move his arm into a good throwing position. He tried squirming and crawling to get away, but the force merely followed him.

“I give up,” Marstin called out after a moment.

“So?” Sue’s voice asked tauntingly, taking a tone Marstin hadn’t heard before. “I didn’t say you could give up, I told you to get up.”

“I cannot,” Marstin responded, a little exasperation leaking into his tone. “You’re too strong. I give up.”

Suddenly, the force vanished, but as Marstin raised his body, something slammed into his gut. As he reeled over, another attack struck his face. As his head began to ring, Marstin was pelted by hits all across his body, like a flurry of blows from a mob of people.

“That’s enough!” Marstin cried out, the pain running over his tolerance level. “Please stop!”

“All those big, strong men you faced didn’t stop, did they?” Sue asked, her voice now coming from behind Marstin. “You seem to be under the impression that giving up is an option. I told you to get up. I haven’t broken any bones, nor have I inflicted lasting injuries.”

“I, I,” Marstin’s head began to throb as the stimulus from the pain continued to rise. “I said stop!” The young adventurer’s voice roared out in anger as his eyes glowed blue, a sudden flood of power filling Marstin and giving him clarity. As time slowed down around him, Marstin’s body suddenly dodged the invisible attacks as the fists made of air became visible to him. With phase 2 slowing the world around him, Marstin was able to escape the web of attacks and roll away onto his feet, an angry grimace directed towards Sue, who was smiling happily at Marstin as she leaned against the door out of the room.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she gave him a thumbs-up of approval. “I knew knocking some sense into you was the answer. Maybe I have a talent in post-battlefield medicine.”

“You only gave me a beating!” Marstin argued. “How is that medical science?”

“It’s not, I was kidding,” Sue chuckled. “I only read in the book that some trauma types respond best when forced to overcome challenges under pressure. You seemed like the type that works well under stress, so lucky us.”

“And if that hadn’t worked?” Marstin asked as he rubbed his body.

“Then drugs,” Sue shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not someone familiar with the topic. But I would have handed you over to the royal doctor, and that’s her general treatment plan. In any case, feeling better?”

“Give me a moment,” Marstin wheezed as the numbness rose through his limbs. “You really laid into me with those attacks. Weren’t you afraid I’d be black and blue for the ball?”

“Not at all,” Sue said confidently. “I controlled my strength to merely cause you impact pain. That’s the purpose of that training armor after all-- it blocks almost all attacks effortlessly while allowing the pain from the blows to be fully experienced. I used to wear a set myself during training.”

Marstin looked down at his armor, before snapping up to glare at Sue. “Then why did you hit my face?”

“Your attitude was a bit too familiar to someone I know,” Sue suddenly grimaced. “And they do deserve a much harsher beating than what you just went through. Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t damage your pretty looks.” She winked at him.

Marstin sighed as the numbness vanished, replaced with a mix of grudging resignation and relief. “Well, I suppose I needed that, I guess. I feel like myself again. Good enough?”

“It’s the ideal result,” she said simply, but with a natural smile on her face. “Now, we just need to get you ready for the ball. You slept through the afternoon, and your attire from Sir Holler has arrived, much faster than we had been expecting. Perhaps he was impressed by your punch.”

“Yeah, now that’s something I prefer people forget,” Marstin let out a sigh as he walked over to join Sue by the door. “I’m a little embarrassed I fell for his taunt, actually, but I don’t feel any regret towards it.”

“Well said,” Sue commended, leading Marstin out of the room. As they walked back up the stairs, Marstin heard her voice in his ear again. “Mind you, most people I know have been wanting to punch that arrogant lout for years. You will likely have a lot of new admirers waiting for you at the ball.”

Marstin couldn’t help but smile.

As it turned out, the dress armor from Sir Holler was even more impressive than Marstin had imagined it would be. The ice drake leather was much darker than he’d been expecting, with the borderline black with elements of silver and held together by the frost spider dark silver stitching. The shirt was simple, but with a dark blue strap sewn in from shoulder to opposite waist, connecting with a band of dark blue that ran around the lower torso like a belt. The shoulders had a pointed corner in line with his shoulder, with a subtly added additional stitch that allowed the material to bend farther and to be less restrictive. The collar was also taller than normal, giving Marstin’s neck a strong contrast with it. The pants were also simple, with the black color and a thin, dark silver strip on the outer side of the pants, running down from top to bottom, a silver belt wrapped around the waist. Finally, there was a black coat with silver buttons to be worn on top.

However, Marstin was more drawn to the second set of dress armor Sir Holler had sent as a ‘surprise apology’ for being unable to provide the battle armor he’d promised.

This dress armor set was sleek, elegant, and with a touch of sharpness, thanks to the sharp lines the edges cut and the thin stitching holding it together. The pants and shirt were just a touch looser than skin-tight, taking advantage of his thinner frame to give him an appearance reminiscent of a sword. This was especially notable with the way the color was used, with the inner part of his arms black against the silver that joined with his shirt that formed a ‘V’ down to his waist, with the central silver flowing down the inner part of his pants. Indeed, if he held his legs together and his arms out like a ‘T’, he might even pass as a ‘human sword’. The look was completed with the sharp, tall collar of the shirt and an attached piece of fabric that wrapped around his body from right shoulder to right base, held in place by two silver buttons on the former and latter. According to Sue, who read a letter from Sir Holler aloud with a surprised expression, the fabric was enchanted to mold to the wearer’s wishes when removed from the outfit, easily becoming such things as a cloth sword or length of rope. In addition, the black shoes held the ‘Whisper Step’ enchantment, which would muffle his footsteps while the rest of his outfit possessed physical and magical barriers hidden within the inner stitching. The shadow sight enchantment was also present within the collar, subtly weaved into the stitching.

Marstin had made the mistake of asking how much the surprise armor cost, which Sue manually calculated as having 2000 pieces of gold as the base cost; thus not counting materials scarcity cost, Sir Holler’s boutique price, or the final cost if put up for auction. The young boy had nearly had his first true heart attack at the price, especially after almost spilling his water onto it.

After the brief moment of drama passed, Sue judged Marstin to be ready for the ball. She herself had returned to her royal guard attire, and the royal carriage once again picked them up from the entrance of the inn.

Marstin wiped his sweaty palms on the seat, feeling naked without his weapons as Sue had forced him to leave even his hidden daggers back in the room.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured him again. “Not only do you have a defensive mage like me guarding you, but your armor as well will protect you. If we both fail to protect you, then the attack likely destroyed the entire royal district. . . well, actually, you might survive that, if barely. Such an attack would have leveled both the inner and royal district then. So yes, you’ll be fine.”

“With my luck, I wonder about that,” Marstin murmured to himself. “Besides, I’m sure you and other magical users are perfectly fine with having everyone else weaponless.”

“You say that as if you also don’t possess metaphysical means of protection and attack,” Sue pointed out.

“Right,” Marstin rolled his eyes. “But I am surprised you’re letting me go given we still don’t understand why I reacted in such a weird way to. . . well, whatever I did.”

“It’s the ball before the trial, so missing it would be a last resort,” the royal guard explained. “It wouldn’t be good to miss being presented publicly and officially to everyone, especially after you missed the previous opportunity with the luncheon. Second, I think I have a pretty good idea about what happened to you; and I have judged it an acceptable risk.”

“What’s your theory?” Marstin asked curiously as the carriage bounced over a pothole.

“Your normal ability is the ‘blue aura’, an ability occurring as a result of latent magic powers returning, thanks to the change in your lifestyle, we assume.” She explained. “However, you can’t handle the strain it puts on you; so, you weaken physically after using it. This new ability of yours was different, even if it had a similar result. As I was touching you at the time, I saw what I have no doubt everyone else missed. At that pivotal moment, your fist was augmented with magic.”

Marstin examined his hand, unhurriedly clenching and unclenching it. “When you say magic, you mean actual magic? Er, I mean like how you use it?”

“Right,” Sue nodded. “Aura is a type of mana usage, aka magic, that typically coats a surface to achieve various physical effects. Your ‘blue aura’ is close to that, but from what I’ve seen and heard from you, it seems to cover not only your skin, but also the bones and muscles inside you. A very thick covering, if your exhaustion is any indication. But this new magic, it was different. I felt it flow with your blood, like a flood of power within your arm -- very much like a body mage or melee sorcerer. I’d call it ‘red magic’ since it seems to depend on blood, with some very obvious side effects.”

She pointed to Marstin’s head, and then between his legs. “The sudden increase in blood has to come from somewhere after all. I suspect your head and your manhood were the primary sources, but perhaps that isn’t your limit, considering how quick you recovered. You went from unconscious, to feral, to emotionless, and finally back to normal after all.”

Marstin reflexively stared down between his legs with an expression of horror. “Excuse me? Are you saying I drained my. . . manhood for the punch?”

To Marstin’s shock, Sue abruptly removed her armor and bared her bare chest at him. Marstin stared slack-jawed at the revealed bounty before him before coughing and turning away.

“Feel anything down there?” Sue asked nonchalantly as she put her top and armor back on.

Marstin opened his mouth, then closed it, and then frantically patted between his legs with a terrified expression. “It’s not reacting!”

“Maybe you should call that power ‘sage magic’,” Sue joked with an unworried expression. “Don’t panic, Marstin, I have no doubt it’ll return to normal soon enough. The book I read mentioned that things like that occur after extreme physical exertion, just like losing your appetite. Just let me know if it isn’t back after four hours and we’ll get a doctor.”

She said this with a somewhat serious expression, but Marstin had the distinct impression she was laughing at him from behind her faceplate. A small snort a moment later made Marstin cross his arms and pout as he looked out the window.

The ride took longer than Marstin had been expecting, due to the line of carriages they joined upon entering the royal district. Sue explained that each person invited would have their entrance formally announced to the court, including all titles and notable accomplishments -- a slow affair, but one that added the level of vanity that nobility expected from their fellows.

To pass the time, Marstin asked Sue about the man in charge of the ball, Lord Albrec of House Swordshield. According to her, Lord Albrec was one of the few nobles who largely remained neutral between the royal party and the nationalist party. He managed several huge tracts of lands and was largely responsible for the majority of grain production in Istut. Due to this, he had many connections and would benefit no matter who won in the end. As such, the lord occupied his time with artists of all trades and was the patron for many in his free time, using them to host such lavish balls and events that served as neutral ground among the rival political factions. His house, Swordshield, was one of the traditional families descended from the Swordshield mercenary guild who helped form the country, though he was the last of his line, as the family had largely declined over the years due to gluttony and sloth. Lord Albrec, though still a robust man, at least managed to retain the habits he’d acquired in the military and kept up his training to extend his own life, which he spent with three wives who hadn’t yet birthed him a child. The rumor was the noble lord had taken genius, but barren, artists as his wives in order to support them and hide away their issues, which many said was a shame.

Marstin asked what the real story was, and Sue had answered she didn’t truly know. Apparently, Lord Albrec didn’t appear in public outside his balls and galas for whatever reason, and his estate was kept private behind the museum where the works of his favorite artists were displayed.

Finally, it was their turn as the carriage came to a halt in front of the large doors leading into the castle. Sue once again opened and closed the door for Marstin, before following him in after prompting the young teen.

The large doors opened into a short foyer leading to a staircase up to the next level. Like the rest of Istut, the castle was made of white stone and decorated with various embellishments and decorations in the colors of the Istutian flag: silver, light blue, and white. At the top of the staircase, the landing opened into a large room that seemed to be a waiting room of some kind, with a few scattered groups of nobles talking in low voices. A few looked over, but most were not distracted by his arrival.

“Sir Marstin, if you please,” a butler said, appearing before Marstin and guiding him to an ornate set of carved stone doors. “Please enter once the doors open and you hear your name.”

Marstin nodded and the butler bowed and left. Left alone with Sue, Marstin examined the door closely. The stone was carved with various patterns that reminded Marstin of snowflakes and ice, with depictions of creatures he didn’t recognize fighting, dying, and. . . he wasn’t sure, but maybe eating? So engrossed in his study of the carvings, the focused teen was startled when the door shuddered and opened away from him.

“Now announcing, the entrance of Hero-to-Be and Adventurer Marstin of Graniton, Savior of Graniton and Vanquisher of Thieves!”

Marstin took a deep breath and entered the new battlefield.

Chapter 20

Marstin’s first thought was that the view was magnificent, in a borderline gaudy, immaculately rich kind of way. A long, ornate, sewn, light blue carpet stretched from the opened doors out to the edge of the empty central part of the room, patterns of ice lining its sides. The large ballroom and throne room were massive in size, almost twice the length of the Adventurer’s Guild and most assuredly twice as high, with white stone pillars supporting a silver-colored roof. The floor was polished tile all around, except for the circular central part of the floor, which blended in with what appeared to be a polished wood floor. Round tables dominated the room, tables dressed as fancifully as the noble ladies, with snow-white skirts and jeweled adornments. Finally, at the other end of the room across from Marstin, a white-stone throne sat atop a small landing, with several smaller thrones beside it. Stained glass windows far above the floor glistened under the fading sunlight, depicting scenes of heroism, tragedy, and triumph, while similarly ornate stained glass and carved wood doors were scattered across the room.

As Marstin walked down the blue carpet, he felt and saw the eyes of all manner of person move to gaze at him. If the luncheon from before had felt intimidating, the current experience was more akin to terrifying, like walking into a den of ravenous beasts. Some of the noble ladies, in fact, especially the older ones, held expressions that actually resembled that, causing Marstin to restrain a shudder. Noble or adventurer, Istutian woman did not differ much in that regard, he realized faintly.

As he approached the end of the carpet, Marstin began to wonder what he was meant to do: stop, or continue walking? He was thankfully saved from his predicament by the arrival of another royal guard, this one dressed similarly to Sue with his or her face hidden.

“Sir Marstin,” the guard greeted with a polite nod, “If you would follow me to your seat.”

“Lead on,” Marstin answered. The guard crossed the empty center of the room without hesitation, forcing the tense teen to follow them and become a further source of public scrutiny. The guard led him to a table below the raised throne, on its right, before leaving him for other duties. Sue graciously assisted Marstin with pulling his seat out, prompting him to sit and take in the atmosphere of the room.

Contrary to the luncheon where mostly everyone was dressed similarly, besides the Sir Hirch that Marstin had met, he could clearly observe the differences among the attendees and guess at their station. For instance, every citizen of Istut wore clothes that held at least two of the three national colors; and judging by the grouping of other colors, the foreign nobles were doing the same. Merchants and military men and women were similarly distinguished by more fanciful clothes and dress uniforms. He could not make out who was a guard on duty, but several robe-wearing men and women reminded him of what the magic users in Graniton sometimes wore. Finally, the higher-ranked nobles and their families appeared to be wearing more expensive outfits compared to those lower on the hierarchy. No one appeared to be interested in approaching Marstin at this time, though he noted none of the other ball attendants seemed to be moving far from their table, either. A few more nobles were announced and guided to their seats by members of the royal guard.

After a few more minutes, the announcements died down and vanished. As Marstin’s eyes wandered around, he suddenly heard, “Now arriving! Her Majesty Queen Nagri, escorted by Lord Albrec Swordshield, accompanied by Princess Dimitria and Prince Torman. All rise to honor Her Majesty!”

Marstin somewhat lurched to his feet and stood straight alongside the rest of the room as the door directly behind the throne opened, revealing four figures trailed by several members of the royal guards in their signature armor.

Just as Marstin had previously met her, Queen Nagri radiated the same cold beauty and royal presence as a blue ice glacier, the symbol of Istut flown proudly on the national flag. Her dress for the occasion, however, was quite different, having opted to clothe herself in a more traditional Istutian noblewoman’s dress: a flowing, snug sky-blue dress that sparkled like the night sky with a modest amount of cleavage, complete with silver furred shoulder pads matching the thick caribou fur belt above her waist, which also held a short sword. As the nature of the dress suggested, the traditional garb served professionally equally in the court or on the battlefield, with the skirt deceivingly masking its ability to split at a forceful tug to reveal the thin leather pants beneath. The queen’s silver hair was carefully braided around her head like a crown before flowing down her back in shining waves, with a simple silver tiara on her head encrusted with beautiful blue gems. Privately, Marstin patted himself on the back for paying attention to Elijah’s sales pitches to the female members of his party on new armor and outfits. It was paying off in spades.

Behind the queen, Princess Dimitria and Prince Torman each wore clothes similar in style to their mother. The princess’s dress appeared to be made with the same material, though with the poofy shoulders and a flared-out skirt reminiscent of the dress Queen Nagri had worn during her meeting with Marstin. The fur belt and tiara were also thinner than the queen’s own, but her face was pulled into a relaxed and warm smile that gave her an inviting and social atmosphere, while highlighting her beauty. Marstin’s eyes didn’t linger, however, as he’d long since lost the ability to appreciate physical beauty beyond marking a potential target. His eyes were more drawn to the prince, whom he regarded curiously.

Prince Torman was dressed quite differently from his mother and sister. Where their outfits revolved around the silver color of Istut’s flag, his attire instead focused on the color of gold. His clothes were a close match to the officers’ dress uniforms of the Istutian military, but visibly different in places. For instance, instead of bare shoulders, the shoulders of the prince’s uniform each bore a piece of tassel fabric held to the jacket by two golden buttons. The buttons also ran down the inside of the jacket, the two pockets on either side of his chest, and along the cuffs as well. Unlike the previous day, the prince’s pants and shirt were primarily white in color, with sky-blue accents along the golden stitching, complete with a white and gold belt and a pair of white dress shoes finely laced with gold. Noticeably, however, the prince did not appear to be wearing a crown or tiara on his head, leaving Marstin to wonder to reason for it not resting on the prince’s black hair.

A quick comparison denoted the common features between the three members of the royal family, to Marstin’s trained and improved eyesight: Queen Nagri’s sharp and thin nose was echoed on the faces of her children, but only her daughter possessed her pointed chin, while the prince’s was split. They all possessed the same black eyes and round ears, as well, though the prince’s short and straight black hair required an additional moment for Marstin to focus. Both children were exceptionally blessed with beautiful faces that resembled their mother’s, though without her cold frown and frosty brow. However, Marstin noted the princess’s eyes were of a slightly different shape and distance from each other compared to the queen, while the prince notably had dimples his sister seemed to lack. These differences gave Marstin a very general feeling for what the king must have looked like.

The final member of the four was an oddly large man who led the queen in, most likely Lord Albrec. The man was large, but not in what one would say was in the traditional way. Rather, judging by the way his clothes threatened to rip with his every move, the lord was clearly a walking siege weapon by size standards, with a bulging belly and pecs and thick arms and legs. Even his bald head, which jiggled with fat in the cheeks, sat on a thick, muscular neck. Marstin understood Sue’s awkwardness in describing the lord in an instant. It seemed the lord, despite a workout that clearly made military training pale in comparison, was unable to lose fat easily, thus resulting in a man who appeared to be an equal percentage of fat and muscle.

Despite this cursed body-type however, Lord Albrec Swordshield wore a proud and genuine smile that seemed impossible to wipe from his face as he led the royal family into the ball. Upon reaching the throne, he kneeled down and respectfully kissed the queen’s hand, waiting until she pulled it away to stand back up and move to stand behind the thrones. The royal family then sat in their respective seats.

“Be seated, thank you,” Queen Nagri’s voice suddenly echoed throughout the chamber, causing Marstin’s ears to wince at the volume. As the queen appeared to have merely spoken without any magic, Marstin was unsure how her voice was able to be so loud and audible to everyone.

“I greet all of you and thank you for joining us tonight for this gathering of friends and fellows, made of both our noble Istutian citizens and our esteemed foreign guests,” the queen continued. “We have all gathered for a single purpose, but that is a matter for the days and weeks to come. For now, this night is to be filled with the promotion of friendship between all parties, and to solidify the firm foundations that unite us all. Thus, please enjoy the festivities of the night, and let the music animate our spirits!”

At this, she raised her hand and pointed her palm at the ceiling. A burst of magic erupted from her hand and flew up to the center of the room before anyone could react. The spell collided with the ceiling and exploded into a fine white mist that scattered and filled the ceiling, hiding the stone from view. As Marstin furrowed his brow at the sight, the audience behind him began to gasp in amazement. He turned to look. From the center of the room, large delicate snowflakes began drifting down from the mist like a curtain as they descended in rippling waves. The snowflakes covered everyone and everything, but merely turned to white mist upon impact. Once enough mist had gathered on the floor, the mass suddenly split and flew across the floor to the two sides to converge. The two mists swirled into a dome before rising back to the ceiling, revealing several long tables of food on the left side of the room and a full band on the right side of the room. At their revelation, the band began to play a slow and lighthearted winter Istutian song. The nobles around the room clapped and applauded Queen Nagri, whose face maintained its poise and coldness without a hint of thought.

Marstin reached out to touch a flake that came close to him, and it shattered into fine mist just like the others. The mist floated back up to the ceiling without making his finger feel cold, something the young adventurer noticed as he rubbed his fingers together. He noticed the nobles around him leaving their seats to take to the center area to dance, gather food from the tables, or move to speak to their colleagues or foreign delegates.

“Very impressive magic,” Marstin murmured aloud.

‘As I said before,’ Sue’s voice whispered in his ear, her voice holding a hint of pride towards her leader, ‘the queen is strong. She-’ Sue’s voice suddenly broke off to Marstin’s surprise, and he turned slightly to look at her. Sue was a statue, unmoving and frozen at attention. Confused, Marstin turned his eyes and locked eyes with the queen’s, who was now staring directly at him and Sue. Marstin shivered involuntarily at her gaze until she returned to watching the ball. He stopped himself from letting out a sigh of relief just in case she was still watching him from the corner of her eyes.

Her masterful display of magic aside, it appeared Queen Nagri also could pick up on magical transmissions, Marstin noted to himself. As Sue had once told him, someone on par with an S ranked adventurer was not someone he wanted as an enemy. With his bodyguard properly cowed into petrification, the young teen decided to make his way to the food table and enjoy himself.

“May we join you?” came a polite and soft voice from behind him. Marstin turned his head and found, to his surprise, the princess and prince approaching him. Princess Dimitria gave a small curtsy. “Greetings, Sir Marstin, I am Princess Dimitria.”

“Greetings, Sir Marstin, I am Prince Torman,” her brother echoed with a small bow. “I am happy to be able to properly introduce myself to you.”

“Um, likewise,” Marstin muttered as he returned their greetings with a polite bow of his own. “Hm, my apologies for any offense in my greetings.” His mind quickly raced to remember what he was supposed to do. “I, erm, have forgotten my lessons upon coming into contact with your radiance.”

The two royal siblings shared a chuckle. “You caused no offense, Sir Marstin,” the princess reassured him. “And relying on flattery to remove yourself from mistakes is always a valid move. We are pleased to see you are as we expected you to be.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Marstin blinked. “Er, I suppose the gossip surrounding me is very substantial at the moment.”

“What my older sister means,” Prince Torman shook his head with a chuckle, “is that you are, for all intents and purposes, a normal person. We’ve been privy to the reports about you given to our queen mother and the gossip, and either can be expected to possess some level of exaggeration to them. Thus, we’ve found it best to expect the opposite of what we’ve heard.” The prince’s eyes gave Marstin a quick glance over. “We are not disappointed.”

Marstin rubbed the back of his head, his instinctive respect for royalty fighting his dislike of attention from ‘relative’ strangers. “Then, is that meant to be a compliment?”

“In this case, yes.” The princess confirmed as the three of them began to move toward the food. “You are of humble origins, and yet lack the arrogance of one who has accomplished great deeds. Despite this, you have managed to prove yourself without consequence, thus earning the respect of the new generation of nobles, my brother included.”

Prince Torman gave his sister a withering look, to which she responded with a bright smile. “I would prefer to offer it when I am truly satisfied, sister. This is merely our second meeting, after all.”

“And who was it complaining about Duke Lidol just the other day?” Princess Dimitra wondered aloud. “Something about ‘sadistic training schedules’ and ‘disrespectful attitudes’?”

Prince Torman clicked his tongue in annoyance but gave Marstin an oddly genuine smile. “I had only just arrived with my queen mother when we came upon the commotion at the luncheon. I must admit I took great pleasure in watching the duke being rescued by his subordinates. As a staunch conservative of Istutian values, Duke Lidol never learned how to swim as Istut lacks the rivers, lakes, and sea access where one would need them. This in turn resulted in him holding disdain toward anyone who learned to swim, including his own subordinates. Ironic that his newest soldiers were the only ones brave enough to leap into the freezing water to save him, despite it being only 3 feet deep.” The two royals shared a chuckle at the thought.

“You both seem to get along,” Marstin observed. “It’s hard to tell you possess a large age gap.”

“We have grown up together, and experienced much together,” the princess confirmed, though her smile became tinged with sadness. “I took as much time as I was able to raise my little brother while our queen mother worked, so it is to be expected we are close.”

Prince Torman nodded in agreement, but Marstin was able to catch a glimpse of dark intent in the prince’s eyes. It vanished quickly, but the prince couldn’t help but tilt his head back to give the queen a glance. Queen Nagri continued to sit on her throne, Lord Albrec behind her, both watching the festivities unfold.

“All families have their challenges,” the prince finally said. “And we are no different. But enough of that. Sir Marstin, I must say that Sir Holler did an excellent job in preparing your outfit. It speaks for you at many levels to those who notice.”

“It’s a bit classier than I’m used to,” Marstin admitted, tugging at the left cuff. “But I have no complaints. Though it is a shame that such an outfit is only meant to be worn during official occasions.”

“If that is the problem, then we must ensure that you get the most out of it while you are here in Iora,” Prince Torman announced with a wide smile. “The trial begins tomorrow, followed by a luncheon I am hosting for the children of the royal delegates. Will you be coming?”

“I will be,” Marstin nodded. “But will you be inviting your rivals, as well, to this event? Should I be expecting any ponds?”

Princess Dimitria chuckled loudly into her sleeve, futilely attempting to cover up her amusement. “Dear brother, it appears our hero-to-be also possesses a talent in humor. Such a charming fellow will surely liven up the tedium of the trials.”

“Indeed, sister,” Toran shared a brief laugh as the trio finally arrived at the buffet tables. “Now, Sir Marstin, please allow me to introduce you to a few friends of mine. . ..”

Chapter 21

The ball progressed, surprisingly uneventfully for Marstin, who had expected at least one arrogant noble to throw his or her weight around in front of him. At the very least, he’d expected some of the officers in uniform to give him some sort of trouble. As it happened, though, no one at the ball had the nerve to try anything against Marstin while the royal siblings were near him, and both prince and princess had taken to watching the young adventurer in unspoken, rotating shifts as they effortlessly mingled with everyone at the ball.

Marstin had observed the two and compared his observations to what he knew about them as they smiled, joked, and consulted the other invitees. In Marstin’s eyes, Prince Torman was a likely and approachable individual with both royal charm and military charisma. But despite his bearing, Marstin’s eyes couldn’t help but pick up on the prince’s slightly colder manner when speaking with women, keeping them at arm’s length enough that no one would consider referring to him as a ‘ladies man,’ despite the flocks of love-struck maidens. This coldness was even more evident on the rare occasions Prince Torman looked at his mother, with a faint frostiness Marstin couldn’t quite decipher.

Princess Dimitria, on the other hand, appeared to be fully in her element as she subdued both men and women alike with her cheerful giggles and bright demeanor. With this level of social presence, Marstin was very surprised he hadn’t heard more about the princess earlier. In fact, to his recollection he hadn’t even known her name. His suspicious mind couldn’t help but wonder if there were other forces in play around her.

Despite his private misgivings toward the two royal siblings, Marstin allowed himself to enjoy the evening more than he expected. With Princess Dimitria and Prince Torman as his guides, the young adventurer was able to meet many of the new generation of nobility and wealthy heirs present at the ball as their parents were content to watch at a distance as they kept to their own business among themselves. He got along splendidly with the young men and women when he regaled them with his adventuring stories, drawing gasps of admiration when talking about the golem dungeon and inciting laughter when he grumbled about his first encounter with the honey bear slime. His general knowledge regarding financial affairs even allowed Marstin a few insights into the state of Istut as it affected his hometown of Graniton.

This culminated with a surprising revelation about Graniton. Marstin was shocked to learn that the Graniton mines were the original source of the white stone found throughout Iora, once upon a time. Evidently, the mines had begun to dry up around six to eight years ago, resulting in the lowered economic status of the town and the current lord’s move to Rockwood, where a new vein of stone had been discovered five years ago. The Graniton mines still produced various other raw materials and gems, but with the ebb of funds, the mines had closed last year as the owners considered their future.

In the end, Marstin had felt satisfied with the ball, despite his initial misgivings. He was able to fill his belly for the first time in what felt like forever, relishing the feeling of being incapable of ingesting more of the smorgasbord of meats, cheeses, fruits, and deserts. He was able to meet many of the rising generation of nobility and form connections with them. He even was able to dance with several of the ladies to the beat of Istutian waltzes and line dances, quickly picking up the moves with some guidance from his partners.

Sue did not speak another word for the rest of the occasion and took to minimizing her presence while Marstin was accompanied by the royal siblings. She only became more pronounced in existence to Marstin once he felt the warning signs of fatigue arising within him. A quick look out the windows confirmed the night had begun to fade and transition into morning. The royal guard appeared behind him, as if reading his mind, and she informed Marstin that the carriage had been summoned for him.

“Try to keep this carriage intact,” Princess Dimitria had teased him to the amusement of the others around them, “I almost had a stroke when my second-best carriage was returned to me in such a shape.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way,” Marstin said, taking the humor in good stride.

“Be sure to not miss my luncheon,” Prince Torman had reminded Marstin. “The trial opening, on the other hand, you should sleep through. I doubt most anyone here will be attending, anyway; those among the high law seemed to be unfamiliar with the terms ‘tedium’ and ‘slow torture’.” This had elicited another round of laughter that sent Marstin on his way as he and Sue exited the ball and boarded the carriage for the Stout and Weasel Inn. His royal protector didn’t say anything more to him on the way there, nor upon arriving, beyond ‘good night’ before entering her room. Marstin himself was only barely able to undress himself and do a quick run through his nighttime habits before falling into a deep sleep, dead to the world and anything happening.

He awoke to the blinding sun streaming in from his window, and the knock at his door. Drowsily, he stumbled out of bed and to the door. “Who is it?” he asked sleepily.

“It is Sue,” came the voice from beyond the door. “May I come in?”

Marstin rubbed his eyes as he double-checked his appearance. It was acceptable enough, in his opinion. “Sure, come in,” Marstin said, backing away from the door.

Sue entered dressed in her casual professional attire, though her demeanor was far more subdued than Marstin was used to, and the bags under her eyes were more pronounced. She stifled a yawn while Marstin took a seat and waited. “Apologies,” she began. “I only slept a few hours after finishing my disciplinary reports. We both seem to have slept through breakfast.”

“Did you get in trouble at the ball?” Marstin ventured.

“More or less,” Sue sighed, plopping herself down onto the foot of Marstin’s bed. “Using my magic to speak to you was a mistake, especially in front of the queen and other major nobles. Luckily, she noticed it first; otherwise, I would have caused everyone a lot of trouble.”

Marstin considered the reasons. “Judging by what you’ve been warning me, using your magic to speak to me must color my situation in a way that’s unfavorable to the queen. Is this considered mind-reading or mind control?”

“Heavens above, no,” Sue started. “Nothing so serious, Marstin; after all, it’s not like the queen could hear what I was saying, merely that I was speaking. But me secretly telling you things can be misconstrued that you are only an extension of my will, since no one else can hear my words. Our opponents would easily jump onto the opportunity to accuse us of this, which would waste days having you subjected to magical examinations by the North’s top magic users for any form of magical control. This, in turn, would naturally be followed by some intense questioning of your reasons, motives, and history that would no doubt make you terribly uncomfortable. So, the queen ordered me to write out the rules and regulations of the royal guard 100 times after I finished writing my incident report on the ball.”

“Nothing like the military to teach discipline,” Marstin parroted. “That’s what some of the adventurers like to say.”

“Indeed,” Sue nodded. She rubbed her eyes and pulled a notebook out of her pants pocket. “Now, the opening to the trial has been going on for some time, but your presence was always an optional affair since the ball was expected to tire most out. If anything, that was one of the intentions of the ball: to weed out those who were obligated to come but had no interest in the tedious legal proceedings. So, we can skip all that. The next event on your itinerary is the late luncheon hosted by Prince Torman, which you are expected to attend in good faith.”

“The prince doesn’t seem to be as troublesome as you had me to believe,” Marstin pointed out with his finger wagging under his folded arms. “I rather enjoyed his company last night and found him to be an interesting person. Beyond a few moments of what I assume is normal family, um, angst I believe, he did seem to be somewhat against the queen.”

“He’s good at hiding it,” Sue cautioned Marstin, though not as sternly as the young adventurer had been expecting. “But, it is true that the prince isn’t necessarily an enemy. His leanings toward the conservatives and military have just put him against his mother, leaving their familial bond a bit testy. Take care with your words; be more wary of what he could tell others, than of what he could do. The members of the royal family should never be underestimated.”

Marstin shrugged. If the prince did not constitute a threat, then Marstin could care less about the family struggle about political direction. It was not the business of an orphan from Graniton, nor the responsibility owed to his country, for him to take sides. After all, Marstin’s presence in Iora was not of his own free will, though it was getting harder to remember this.

“Should I wear the dress armor from last night?” Marstin asked.

Sue pursed her lips. “Wearing the same outfit again isn’t normally proper; however, since I received word from Sir Holler that your second suit has encountered some difficulties, we must make do. I’m certain no one will look down on you for wearing a suit from Sir Holler again, in any case.”

“Alright,” Marstin nodded. “When do we need to leave?”

Sue flipped her notebook and scanned the pages before gazing at the streaming sunlight. “We don’t need to rush. We’ll leave as soon as you're ready, morning maintenance included.”

“In that case,” Marstin spoke up. “Is it proper for me to bring my weapons and enchanted armor with me? My outfit would be slightly different if I did so.”

Sue hesitated before ultimately agreeing. “Okay, but you can only bring your two enchanted daggers, not the dagger belts with which you so enjoy covering yourself. The throwing bracers are also acceptable, but no adventurer bag; that would be too crass, I believe.”

Marstin rolled his eyes but went along with her words. After Sue left the room, Marstin ran down his armor and weapons with his careful eye.

“Hm?” he murmured after a moment. “What’s this?”

The young adventurer’s hand had been gliding over the back of his armor when it had felt an almost imperceptible bump along the lining of his lower torso under his belt. A quick rubbing revealed a small stone, one that appeared innocent enough, had it not been for the small charge of energy that caused Marstin’s face to pale sharply.

Before he could react, however, his fingers erupted with blue aura that caused the crystal to shatter into dust. Marstin braced for the demonic wailing, but nothing happened. The blue aura had also vanished, leaving the young adventurer alone without causing any side effects. Marstin was sure, however, that the crystal was related to one Ghevin Drestice had used in Graniton. The ominous magical feeling from the stone was the same, to say nothing of the blue aura’s effect on it.

Marstin considered the possibilities silently. “This wasn’t a real crystal,” he finally decided. “It was half the size of Ghevin’s, and it did not release a scream when it was destroyed. Perhaps it is a child crystal, broken off from the larger one? Or maybe a normal crystal can be broken into many of these. What could be the purpose of this smaller crystal? More importantly, who slipped this crystal into my belt?!”

Marstin had too many suspects; the ball had been very crowded, and he’d interacted with many people over the many hours. In fact, Sue could also be a potential culprit since she’d kept to walking behind him most of the night. Marstin didn’t have too many suspicions towards his bodyguard, however, not when demon mind control magic could be at work here. Of course, this meant the number of people he could trust had taken a nosedive.

He decided to not mention the crystal to Sue. He had no proof for his words, nor any idea what the smaller crystal was meant to accomplish or prevent. As a heavier mood settled over his room, Marstin carefully scrutinized his other personal belongings for any signs of tampering or new additions, relieved when he found his things clear. He donned his dress armor and new additions quickly before gathering the rest of his belongings and throwing them into his adventurer’s bag. When he was finished, he tied it to his belt and exited his room.

Sue was waiting for him by the staircase down to the lobby, and she frowned at the sight of the adventurer’s bag.

“I figured bringing a change of clothes might be necessary,” he said quickly before she could comment. “Since the prince is close to the military, the chance of me ending up in a pond is fairly high, after all.” His face relaxed into what he thought was a joking expression, one he wasn’t quite sure he could pull off.

It appeared to have worked when Sue gave the adventurer’s bag a contemplative look. “Alright, but leave it in the carriage.”

Marstin nodded, and the two exited the inn and entered the carriage. Before getting on, Marstin walked around the carriage and inspected it.

“Just comparing it to the others,” he explained to Sue and the royal guard who was driving, both of whom looked somewhat amused as the young teen seemingly traced the lines of the vehicle. Marstin’s quick and nimble fingers dusted the edges of the carriage, out of their sight, but he found nothing else incriminating, to his relief. He got on soon after, and the duo was carted over to a gathering hall in another part of the inner city.

“I won’t be sticking to you for this occasion,” Sue informed him through her helmet. “I’ll be joining the other royal and noble guards along the perimeter so as to give you all some privacy. If you need me, just wave.”

“Alright,” Marstin said. “Will you all be able to eat lunch at least?”

“We can survive a meal or two hungry,” Sue joked. “So don’t worry about that. After all, it depends on the intentions of the host, whether we guards eat and drink and when. Perhaps I’ll get lucky.”

The gathering hall in front of which the carriage stopped reminded Marstin of the city hall of Graniton, minus the grime and better built-in appearance, with carved stone pillars and a painted ceiling depicting men playing instruments made from swords. Sue wasted no time helping Marstin off the carriage and guiding him inside past a lobby area and into a banquet hall. Inside, Prince Torman was speaking with a crowd of young male nobles as waiters carried drinks and hors d'oeuvres around the area. The group turned to see who had entered.

“Ah, Sir Marstin!” the prince greeted cheerfully. “Glad you could make it. Come, you are just in time to hear the most remarkable tale from Forest.”

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Marstin nodded politely, inciting a few undisguised clicks from some of the nobles in attendance.

“Come now, my compatriots,” Prince Torman frowned. “There is no need for that. Sir Marstin is here as my friend and guest, just as you all are.”

“With all due respects, Prince,” one of the nobles spoke up, “I fail to see how a former thief is deserving of so much respect as to not need to bow to you. It’s grossly undermining of Your Highness’ authority.”

“Indeed,” another noble huffed. “Merely being near him invokes the same dread one feels walking in the outer district. Is no one else afraid he’ll slit our throats and steal our gold?”

“Che,” another noble, but this one in a military uniform, snorted. “You would feel scared given your pitiful level of strength, Bernard. You see a thief, while I see a sheathed knife enter the room. He’s proven his strength, and that’s all that matters here in Istut.”

Marstin was surprised to see a member of the military defending him, and he wasn’t the only one. Voices were raised and fists shaken as the group suddenly split into two factions, surrounding the young adventurer. His pitiful plea to Sue for help was left unanswered.

Prince Torman suddenly coughed. “Alright, that’s enough my friends. His belonging here is neither important nor determined by us in any case; leave that to those old relics of the high court. Rather, I invited Sir Marstin here to gain his perspective toward the fur trade, given his first-hand experience with the lower parts of the trade.”

Marstin blinked. He knew as much about fur trading as he did any economic system, that it worked when you had silver.

“Your Highness?” Marstin asked cautiously with a small tilt of his head.

“One of your more minor notable deeds was solving the caribou crisis last year,” Prince Torman explained. “The caribou are the main source of the fur trade, after all. What did you think of them?”

Marstin considered the question. “When the caribou were released from whatever spell was on them, the stampede was visible to the horizon from atop the hill my companions and I fled to. It practically took the rest of the day for them to vanish from sight, and even longer for their footsteps to vanish into the wind. I never thought I’d ever see something like that in my life, and I have no desire to see it again unless I do so from the air.

“From what I’ve learned since,” he continued. “The numbers of caribou have grown since the decline of their natural predators. Even the jobs at the guild involving the hunting of said predators have become restricted affairs with a shift to not exterminate all of them. I do not understand the situation beyond this, however.”

“This is what I’ve been saying,” another young noble piped up. “The high number of caribou has become too problematic! My family’s lands have seen a decline in lumber exports because the herds have been stripping more and more trees down to nothing. Not only that, but the ice drakes and wyverns have been seen far more often further south than their traditional hunting grounds because the caribou are much easier and numerous prey than their normal targets. We need to cull the herds quickly before those monsters turn to us next!”

“Mass killings would flood the market!” another noble argued. “Not to mention we lack the infrastructure to properly process mass killings in the first place. The resulting refuse and spoiled meat would cause untold illness and would summon vermin from miles away. The lowered fur price would only make this worse and bankrupt the merchant groups.”

Marstin suddenly found himself helpless, trapped between two new factions, which somehow came into being as easily as the former had vanished. He looked over at the prince, who looked bemused, as though he’d been expecting this.

“Does the prince have any opinion about this?” Marstin asked, his voice only marginally louder than the fervor around him.

The silence in the room was deafening. The nobles all looked somewhat startled, and even the prince was surprised, though he hid it quickly.

“Ahem, it isn’t my place to say at this point in time,” Prince Torman said diplomatically. “It is important to get all the facts about any situation in order to weigh the best course of action with the fewest harmful side effects.”

The young adventurer blinked and tilted his head, staring at the prince. “You can’t make everyone happy, though,” Marstin finally said with a bit of firm inflection. “Sometimes, doing the right thing requires angering those who stand to lose something. That’s one of the burdens of being a leader.”

“I see,” Prince Torman smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what other burdens of leadership do you know of?”

“A leader cannot lead without first listening,” Marstin counted on his fingers. “A leader cannot put the needs of the few over the needs of the many, but he or she also cannot put the wants of the many over the needs of the few. A leader must understand sacrifice -- when to ask it of others, and when to ask it of himself or herself. A leader must take on the burden and responsibility, not only of his or her own decisions, but also of those made by his followers in his or her name. Finally, a leader must recognize when to allow another to take his or her place when the time comes.”

While Marstin anticipated an angry response, Prince Torman’s smile froze, before turning thoughtful. Clearly, some of the other nobles shared Marstin’s expectation, as their mutterings sounded quite perturbed. After a minute of silence, the prince looked back up at Marstin and nodded.

“Very enlightening,” Prince Torman nodded, giving Marstin a soft clap. “I see your knowledge of leadership is truly unmatched, even compared to my many tutors. Your words have enlightened me beyond the expectations I had for you, for which I wish to apologize.” He waved his hand, summoning a waiter. “Bring everyone a round to toast, myself included. And, same with the guards and waiters, I’m feeling generous.”

Marstin grabbed and devoured some of the finger food passed around as he waited alongside the others for the drinks to be passed around.

“A toast,” the prince announced, raising his glass of beer high. “To Sir Marstin’s insight and proof that the future of Istut is in good hands.”

Everyone followed his lead, Marstin included, and the drinks were drunk. The young man smacked his lips at the taste, enjoying the more familiar taste reminiscent of the bars in Graniton, before he felt a strange burning and tingling feeling in his belly. He grimaced at the sensation.

“I don’t think the cask was good, your highness,” Marstin spoke up, still frowning. “I fear the beer has gone sour.”

“Tastes fine to me,” one of the nobles behind Marstin snorted. “Maybe it’s too high class for your palate.” This incited enough rounds of chuckles at Marstin’s expense.

“Apologies, Sir Marstin,” the prince said as he frowned at the waiter. “You there, throw that cask of beer away at-” The prince choked suddenly, his face quivering as his voice failed him. He dropped his mug and grasped his throat, wheezing with difficulty.

“Your Highness!” Marstin shouted, only to quickly notice everyone else in the room succumbing to a similar situation. Even Sue and guards on the wall were clutching at their throats and coughing.

“Poi, poison!” Marstin heard Sue’s garbled voice in his ear. “Marstin, you must, cough, you must, ru-” Her voice cut out as she fell to the floor with a reddening face.

All around him, Marstin watched as noble and servant alike gasped for breath, himself the only person still standing. Instantly, all plans flew out of Marstin’s mind. He could possibly make an antidote, but realistically could only save one person if he got lucky. There was no way to save everyone.

The tingling in his stomach returned Marstin’s attention to his own body. He could feel it, the blue aura, active inside of him, the source of his exception from the poison. The logic was easy: If he could save himself with the blue aura, then could he not save others?

Taking advantage of the activeness of the blue aura, Marstin drew it out of his body and covered his hands with it. The blue hue lit up the stained glass lit room like ethereal fire. He could feel the blue aura suddenly trying to retreat, as if sensing his intention, but Marstin would not allow it. With a cry, Marstin raised his arms above his head, before slamming them down against the stone floor and pushing. Instantly, the blue aura exploded out of him in a blast of ghostly fire, covering everyone and everything in the room. The surging flames only lasted for a short while before vanishing, leaving Marstin alone as the only conscious person in the room.

Marstin ran over to Prince Torman and put his hand against the prince’s throat. He let out a sigh of relief once he detected the steady heartbeat and deep breathing.

“Your Highness!” a loud voice echoed outside, before the doors burst open. Marstin found himself awkwardly kneeling over the unconscious prince, his hand on his throat, in the full view of a squad of guards.

“This isn’t what it looks like?” Marstin said weakly.

“Assassin!” the head guard screamed, drawing his sword. “Protect his Highness.”

Marstin quickly ran, but found his body oddly weak with every step. In fact, his senses also felt weaker, like a normal person’s.

“Is this the result of overusing the blue aura?” Marstin panted to himself as he ran, slamming doors behind him as he searched for an exit. “Damnations, where is the exit?”

A tinge of red swam in the corner of his eye.

‘Call for me.’

Marstin clicked his tongue, but found the situation warranted to rely on desperate measures. With a shudder, his vision turned red, and his body surged with newfound strength. Marstin locked eyes on an open window up above, and a boundless leap allowed him to reach it. He rolled down the roof and off it, kicking with his feet to reach the wall of the opposing building and repeating to slow his descent as he descended to the ground. Upon landing, his red eyes locked onto the stables, where his carriage was. He practically surged over to it and retrieved his adventurer’s bag before leaving, the sound of the guards spreading the word as Marstin vanished into the alleys of the inner city.

Chapter 22

Progen reeled at the events of the last few minutes. Actually, the last day had been so full of strange revelations that what just happened shouldn’t have been that surprising, but that was just the way it was.

After learning that the Blood Curse was starting to take over Marstin’s body through the use of strong emotions, such as anger, the temporary change in his host’s personality shouldn’t have been all that surprising. Since it was based in the brain, it was inevitable that something like that might happen; it was only surprising that it hadn’t happened before. All that Progen could deduce was that the Curse was changing tactics; being trapped up there without the ability to influence anything throughout the rest of the body, it had turned its attention to the only things that might help it succeed: hitching a ride on Marstin’s mana.

The Blood Curse cannot affect it directly without permission, however. These increasing instances are only the start of whatever it is planning, I would hazard to assume.

Basically, what Stemmy was intimating was that Marstin’s mana was hidden by a door that only Marstin could open; by urging Progen’s host to open the door, it could then take control of the mana. However, just as the dungeon crystal could only help dictate its use based on intent, so too was the Blood Curse restricted in the mana’s use -- though it was stretching the bounds of that intent to its own purposes. Every time that Marstin cracked the door open for the Blood Curse to come inside and play around, it was getting stronger; eventually, it might even be strong enough to do something that would end with the body’s destruction, which was yet another worrisome prospect.

Then there was the whole conspiracy behind the entire Blood Curse in the first place, which had reared its ugly head earlier in the day. Those out to destroy Progen’s dungeon were relentless; and they clearly were playing with things that frightened the dungeon crystal.

“That feels...wrong.”

I believe it could be a shard of a dungeon crystal, shaped for a specific purpose.

The small gemlike object Marstin found hidden in his clothes was almost impossible for him to sense normally, but its close proximity to Progen’s host was enough for the crystal to detect it. “What do you think its purpose is?” It was hard to tell through layers of clothing, but Progen didn’t think the dungeon crystal shard was inhabited by any souls or demonic presences; rather it was the structure of the crystal itself that had been repurposed.

Unknown. Tracking purposes, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it had been discreetly hidden in Marstin’s clothes, though Stemmy was unable to detect who had actually deposited it. Progen noticed it at some point during the social gathering when it got pressed (through the clothing) against the body’s skin, but it was too far away for Progen to interact with it. When Marstin found it later, the dungeon crystal immediately sent a surge of his own dungeon mana out through the fingers, where it enveloped and obliterated the dungeon crystal shard before it could cause any more harm. It was impossible to tell what it was doing, or had done, but its destruction made Progen feel a lot better.

It was like giving the reanimated corpse of one of his kind a proper burial.

Then, one thing after another, came this “luncheon” with some presumably very important people. Progen cared not a whit about who they were, other than they seemed to cause Marstin some discomfort and stress being around them; elevated cortisol hormones throughout the bloodstream were enough to indicate that much.

Inevitably, because his host seemed to invite death on a daily basis, the imbibing of an alcoholic drink came with the introduction of an acidic and poisonous compound. Thankfully, ever since Progen had combated the introduction of cyanide enzymes, he and Stemmy had been watching and evaluating everything that was ingested by Marstin, in addition to any wounds that might spring up.

The gustatory system has identified an abnormal substance in the liquid. Initial evaluation determines that this is some sort of poisonous compound.

It didn’t take long for the traces of this complex compound to make themselves known, as it seemed to latch onto the epithelial cells of whatever it touched, burrowing inside them in order to reach any nearby nerves. When the nerve cells began to shrivel and collapse, Progen knew he had to react quickly. Taking a bit of his own mana, the dungeon crystal enveloped the sites he could identify and replaced the dead nerve cells, stopping the progress of the compound from advancing any further.

I believe this poison is a variation of phenol, which is a fact-acting poison that will cause unconsciousness within seconds and will shut down the nervous system within minutes if allowed to spread. You’ll still need to eliminate--

Stemmy was interrupted by a sudden rushing of Marstin’s mana from the brain, where it pooled inside of the stomach. The initial indications of poisonous effect must have alerted his host that there was something wrong in what had just been swallowed, but of course it had no idea what to do -- as usual. Fortunately, Progen did know what to do, and since he (and the nearby Magic Sniffer) detected no magical influence surrounding the poisonous compound, the dungeon crystal was positive he could use Marstin’s much more potent mana to eliminate the poison all at once.

Directing the massive blob of blue mana to expend a tiny portion of its energy to remove all traces of the compound he identified was a slightly tricky affair, because he needed to use just enough to “cure” the body and eliminate the compound without scouring the entire body clean of every single enzyme, protein compound, hormone, or any other extraneous molecule that existed within the body that wasn’t inside of a cell. The power to do something like this was beyond what Progen could do with his own mana, but it also didn’t need the entire lot of mana that Marstin had brought down from his brain. The dungeon crystal figured he might be able to interpret the intent of the mana to spread around the powerful force of it so it didn’t damage anything, such as scouring the outer skin and every system throughout the body to minimize the aftereffects.

That wasn’t what Marstin had in mind, unfortunately.

“NO! What are you doing? You stupid--”

Suddenly, the mana that had been inside of the stomach was being pulled away from the body, while it was also being joined by an additional surge of mana from the brain.

Pulling that much mana may end up damaging his mana channels--

“I know, I know! That’s why I’m trying to stop it!”

When Marstin usually brought down his mana, he wasn’t technically bringing down all of it, despite what it looked like. There was always a reserve left over that stayed inside of the brain, to maintain a balance of sorts; it could be tapped into if needed, but it was also dangerous because if the mana pool emptied entirely, there was a chance that certain mana-related organs could be damaged, or cease to function altogether.

Progen’s efforts were entirely in vain, however, because Marstin yanked his own mana out of the crystal’s control and sent it out of the body, including an additional large chunk of mana that was sluggishly pulled from the brain. The intent and instructions Progen had imparted to the mana were still part of it, however -- which was apparently the reason it was being sent out of the body in the first place.

Our host’s mana is surrounding numerous people collapsed on the floor, who apparently are suffering from the same poisonous phenol compound. I’m not sure how effective it will be to completely heal them, due to the additional time the phenol has been at work on their bodies, but it seems as though it is at least scouring the compounds from their systems.

“Doesn’t he know that doing that could remove his ability to use mana?! No, of course he doesn’t -- or else he wouldn’t do it!”

Progen was worried that Marstin had just made the worst decision of his regrettably short life, but there was no time to think about that. Stemmy alerted him that more people were coming, and they mistakenly thought that Marstin was an assassin trying to kill these important people. That was, of course, ridiculous, but the prospect of being captured and interrogated apparently didn’t appeal to his host. The dungeon crystal could sense that more mana was trying to be drawn out of the brain, but there was nothing left -- it had all been used up when it was foolishly used to heal the poison in numerous other people.

What wasn’t used up, however, was the corrupted mana that the Blood Curse was all too happy to loan Marstin in his time of need. This time, a red aura surrounded most of his host’s body, where it infused the muscles, tendons, ligaments, and bones like his normal bluish mana did. Progen thought it was probably because Marstin was directing the intent this time, dictating exactly how he wanted it done, and the Blood Curse was acting as a pseudo-Progen in directing it.

Stemmy kept him apprised of his host’s progress as he stealthily evaded pursuit, hiding in shadowed alcoves and slinking through the city on his way to hopeful safety. Surprisingly – and thankfully – Progen’s host body managed to escape pursuit, and made his way into a decrepit-looking part of the city, filled with rundown shacks and hovels. At least, that was how Stemmy described them; Progen really didn’t care what they appeared to be, provided they were adequate to hide his dungeon long enough to fully heal everything.

This place is filled with billions of pathogens just waiting to get in. I would suggest reinforcing your traps in the respiratory system before you do anything else.

Marstin had collapsed, the corrupted red mana having damaged the body from the enhancements. Now that he had gotten a better look at the different organs, blood vessels, nerves, and muscle tissue abused during the escape, Progen could only agree. It was likely going to take at least a day or so to get back up to prime condition, and he didn’t need a massive infection to spring up at the same time. Plus, while he was glad that the reemergence of the Blood Curse hadn’t precipitated a new wave of pathogen attacks, he was disappointed that it also didn’t seem to reveal any cracks in the barrier surrounding the brain. His disappointment didn’t last long, though, because he had work to do.

Using his mana as Marstin finally collapsed in exhaustion, inside what Stemmy said was a den of bacteria and other nasty pathogens, he spent the next few minutes placing more and more suspension and compression traps in the trachea and bronchial tubes. When that was done, half of his immune forces were moved up as well, leaving much of the body unmonitored, except for the natural lymphatic system. It was a necessary sacrifice, he soon found, because even as he was getting everything set up, waves and waves of bacterial invaders swarmed into Marstin’s open mouth as he breathed during his forced sleep.

Again, the strength and deadliness of the incoming bacteria – while in large numbers – were mercifully simple, normal pathogens that were easy enough to locate and isolate, especially with tens of thousands of his immune cells constantly on the lookout for them. Anything that managed to make it past the traps in the respiratory system was quickly located and eradicated, and with the Commanders in charge, there was barely any need for Progen’s supervision.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t any problems.

From the auditory signals I’m intercepting, there appears to be some sort of small rodent nearby.

Progen could only mentally shrug. “So? If it becomes a problem, let me know—”

There was a sudden change in his dungeon as a part of it suddenly disappeared, and it didn’t take more than a second to figure out what it was. Some sort of animal bit into Marstin’s left palm, taking a chunk of skin with it; a quick repair with a fibrin net sealed up the wound to stop the blood loss, and he devoted his focus to healing the area before it could become a problem. Not only that, but he was forced to direct another dozen scouting groups to combat the sudden influx of viral pathogens that swarmed inside the bloodstream, having been injected from what was indubitably a rat bite.

The rodent backed off after the attack, as if unsure whether there would be any reprisal. I believe that I hear it starting to approach again.

“Where? The same hand?”

Affirmative.

Progen looked at his available mana, which was sitting at about 5,000 due to the constant destruction of invading pathogens, and tried to come up with a plan. There was no way that his mana could reliably affect things outside of his influenced systems, and with Marstin so out of it that not even a painful bite could wake him up, there wasn’t going to be any hope from that quarter. It was up to the dungeon crystal to fight off a rat…and he thought he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Utilizing the Shocking Discharge trap that had been moderately successful against the Parasyte, he placed it on the surface of the skin, right near the bite wound on Marstin’s left palm. He surrounded the wound entirely, pumping more and more mana into the trap to increase not only its size, but also its strength. By the time it was done, the invisible trap was huge, covering half of the palm with its circular diameter, floating about 50 Newt-lengths above the skin and waiting for something to activate it. He tried to elevate it even further away from the hand, but it appeared as though the 50 Newt-lengths was as far away from his influenced system as he could get.

The dermal layers should insulate the nerve endings in the palm, so that there shouldn’t be any permanent damage, even if there is some feedback.

That was good to hear; the last thing he wanted was to shock and harm the body, because it was already in rough shape. However, if he didn’t want it to be eaten alive by rats, he had to do something.

As Stemmy had predicted, the rat was soon back, accompanied by some friends. As they cautiously approached, Progen was praying that his trap worked and was strong enough; if it wasn’t, then they could be in some real trouble unless Marstin woke up.

The rodent is arriving near the trap now. 3…2…1….

It turned out that there was a bit of shocking feedback from the trap as it traveled through the mouth of the rat as it bit down, but it wasn’t as bad as Progen feared. There was a very small patch of destroyed dermal cells at the point of impact, as well as some fried nerve endings, but the damage was minimal at worst.

The rodent activated the trap and was jolted so severely that it was flung away. If I am not mistaken, I believe that the shock clenched its muscles to the point that they physically broke its back. The auditory nerves are indicating that there is some spastic twitching continuing, as well as the retreat of the other rodents after what happened to the first. And now it is done. Congratulations.

“It was flung away?” he asked dejectedly. He had been secretly hoping that it would’ve died pressed up against Marstin’s skin, as the life energy from the death of such a large organism would likely provide millions of mana. Oh, well – maybe next time.

Regardless, the immediate threat was taken care of, and Progen could get back to what he was doing – with an additional wound that he needed to repair, now. All through the brief sleep cycle, the dungeon crystal used the majority of his mana on repairs, keeping some in reserve in case some of the rats came back – which they thankfully never did.

By the time his host struggled awake, at most an hour after he arrived, most of the body was back up to working condition; the damage hadn’t been nearly as bad as it was when Marstin used his own mana, probably because it was more potent than the corrupted mana and there was more of it. With all that had happened, including the damage to the body by the corrupted mana led by the Blood Curse and the subsequent escape through the city, Marstin was in really rough shape with a severe lack of nutrients.

Marstin needed sustenance. Soon.

After not eating in what Progen deduced was nearly 24 hours since gorging on a large quantity of food, the body was quickly running out of energy to keep everything running properly; with how weakened everything still was, he would have to ingest even more to keep his life force at optimal levels.

The auditory system is detecting the sounds of potential pursuers.

So first, Marstin needed to evade the capture he had been trying to avoid. “Great. Wake him up; it’s time for him to run again.”

Chapter 23

A dark dream vanished as Marstin shuddered awake. The young adventurer heaved silently as he recalled his situation, moving to better hide behind several abandoned boxes in one of the back alleys of the inner city. He forced his breathing to stay steady and silent, defying the rapid beat of his heart and the tension filling his mind. It helped that the after effects of using ‘red magic’ were occurring now, allowing him to distance himself from the situation as an observer. Thankfully, it seemed that he would be skipping the ‘rabid and feral’ side effect, at least for the moment. His left hand was a little sore, though; perhaps he’d slept on it funny for a moment.

He went over the events in his head again, as he hadn’t been out for too long, it seemed. He had found a suspicious crystal in his clothes, but it had been destroyed thanks to his ‘blue aura’ before he could report it. He and Sue had arrived at the luncheon and participated. The prince called for a toast, unusually allowing the guards and servants to participate, resulting in the entire room becoming poisoned. Marstin avoided the poison thanks to his ‘blue aura’ and forcibly overused it to save everyone’s life. The guards had burst in and mistaken him for the culprit, forcing him to flee.

‘Did I actually need to flee, though?’ Marstin reflected. ‘Perhaps getting arrested would have been fine as I saved everyone.’ He quickly dismissed the thought; he had no guarantee anyone had stayed conscious enough to see him save everyone. Even then, the fact remained that he’d been the only one to avoid the poison, making him highly suspicious in the first place. No, running had been the right choice; the queen’s faction would ensure his innocence once they got the facts.

Marstin froze at the loud clattering of metal boots running down from somewhere close, only relaxing after the sounds had vanished into the distance. He let himself breathe as he went over his supplies. Luckily, or perhaps suspiciously to others, he’d packed all his belongings in the adventurer’s bag before leaving the inn, so he wasn’t lacking in supplies or equipment. It wasn’t likely he’d be able to replenish either at a store, given his fugitive status, so he needed to be frugal. Marstin checked his bag again on reflex, finding nothing had changed.

Emotionlessly, Marstin poked his head up and examined the area before moving further down the alley toward the inner wall that separated the outer district of Iora from the inner district. It was the middle of the afternoon, and Marstin figured he’d have a good chance of scaling the wall or finding an old thief’s passage through under the cover of darkness.

He clicked his tongue as he came across another dead end, a large building blocking his way. There weren’t any windows or doors facing the alley, either, meaning he had to go over or back. He turned on his heel and silently ran back to the last fork in the alleys. The city was truly built around a military base; only those would have so many dead ends to confuse invaders and to quell any urban warfare.

The young man was taken aback at the sudden sound of footsteps somewhere ahead of him, the sound of a group of people soon to be upon him. Marstin reacted quickly and turned but underestimated the weakness of his body and slipped on some mud next to several boxes. He frowned as he fell and turned his body so only his lower back and butt slammed into the ground rather than his arm or leg. The pain was still felt, but Marstin ignored the pain and looked around quickly. Spying a rotten door with a hole just large enough for a child to slip under, Marstin pushed his body into a quick and painful dive into the dilapidated house, where he hid under a molding tablecloth and waited. He wasn’t used to dealing with the senses of a normal person, nor the strength of his body from before becoming an adventurer, and his thieves’ training hadn’t adapted to the sudden change yet.

He heard another set of boots coming from where he came and grimaced as the two groups came to a stop as they met.

“This is squad one,” the voice on the right shouted. “Identify yourselves!”

“We are messenger squad one,” a voice on the left answered. “We’re here to bring a message to squad one. Please confirm your identity. Istut’s grace.”

“Never fades,” the guard on the right answered. “What orders do you bring from command?”

“The prince is in dire straits, with the cause being poison,” the messenger reported. “Also among the injured are several important noble and merchant heirs, their guards, and the servants of the banquet hall. The queen is infuriated and has ordered a full lockdown of the city to find the culprit.”

“Understood,” the guard acknowledged. “Do we have new orders?”

“Yes,” the messenger said quickly. “Squad one is to report to the inner wall battlements to join squads five, seven, and eight for additional patrol. Squads two, three, and four have been directed to the gates as back-up, and the remaining squads are to join the royal guards at the royal district gates. The culprit, Marstin Orphanson, is to be captured alive if possible for interrogation.”

“Orders received!” the guard said, followed by the sound of a sharp salute and boot stomp, “We are going to the wall now.” Marstin listened as the sounds of the guard squad vanished down the left, whence the messengers had come. He waited for the messengers to move.

“Sir, were we not ordered to kill the target on sight?” one of the messengers suddenly asked, causing Marstin’s eyes to narrow.

“Our orders are to deliver the right orders to the right people,” the lead messenger said in a much colder tone of voice. “The agent failed to complete their assignment, leaving this mess for us to clean up. We are to follow plan B, section three and disregard the secondary objective for now. The primary is still. . . priority!”

A huge crash outside echoed, but Marstin’s emotionless mind calmly accepted it without reacting. The leader’s voice was heard cursing a moment later.

“He isn’t here,” the second voice reported.

“I can see that,” the leader growled. “He must have dropped the crystal here somewhere. Don’t bother looking for it, it’ll shatter once midnight comes around. Those blasted fools messed up again. Come on, we keep searching!”

Marstin waited until the bootsteps had vanished before reaching into his adventurer bag and pulling out a small mirror, a casual gift from Kyra some time ago. He reached out with his right arm holding the mirror and angled it so as to peek outside through the hole in the door. Sure enough, a single man dressed in light guard armor was perusing the area quietly. Luckily, he was facing the opposite way and couldn’t see the mirror, and Marstin retracted his hand swiftly.

The situation was clear now. The crystal had been a tracking device of sorts, meant to allow Marstin’s enemies to know his location. The Thieves’ Guild of Graniton had been aware of this kind of magic but hadn’t taken it seriously, given that not many magic users bothered to learn the spells required, or something like that. He was pretty sure Burch had talked about it during one of his beatings.

The poisoning was their doing, as well, then with Marstin one of the targets; meant for death or capture, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that an enemy was waiting for him to show himself.

Marstin slowly removed one of his throwing daggers and gripped it in his right hand. It wasn’t a good time yet. A good thief always waited for the right time. This repeated in Marstin’s mind like a mantra, spoken by Cheven, the former leader of Graniton’s Thieves’ Guild. Marstin’s mind focused on the sound, and only the sound as he waited.

Finally, he heard the small, crisp sound of a boot rotating against the hard cobblestone. Marstin’s right hand flipped the dagger twice, the tension partly overcoming his emotionless state. He could picture what was happening in his head: The messenger had finished examining the other side of the alley and was walking towards him. He had noticed the hole in the door, but wasn’t sure whether Marstin could fit through without causing a disturbance. There was a boarded-up window above the table Marstin was under, making it hard to see the entirety of the room from outside. The man was hesitating now, unsure whether to go inside to check and risk an ambush or to leave. Perhaps the voice of his superior was echoing in his head now, reprimanding him for being sloppy. Yes, there was the sound of a boot taking a hesitant step toward the door. Would he open it and step in, or kneel down to gaze through the hole from the outside?

No matter what he decided, Marstin was ready. The door suddenly burst open, and the messenger’s sword flew in a downward strike before the man rolled inside and stopped in a defensive posture. He looked straight at Marstin, and then looked elsewhere. The young man’s boots tingled as the enchantment worked its magic, allowing Marstin to blend in with the harsh shadows. The messenger frowned and tapped his ear. Marstin noticed a smaller crystal hanging from it.

“Target not found. Returning to patrol,” the messenger reported calmly. He barely had time to blink before a dagger lodged in his throat. The face of the man paled as he worked through the sudden pain and looked down at the dagger, not comprehending the situation. Marstin’s second dagger finished the job, sinking deeply into the forehead and stopping all chances of giving a warning to the others.

The young thief crawled out from under the table and coldly examined the corpse before tossing it. He found a few more daggers along with the sword, some daily rations and silver, a ‘Wanted’ notice, and the crystal earring.

Marstin considered puncturing his ear but decided not to risk the scent of his blood becoming a way for others to track him. Instead, he pulled out some wire from his bag and quickly made a hoop to nab the earring before hanging it on his right ear. He heard some garbled voices; likely a result of not putting the device directly into his ear.

‘Regroup. . . royal gate. . . prince. . . ordered,” was he could hear before the voices vanished.

‘Did the prince order the poisoning?’ Marstin asked himself as he pulled the body further into the room to hide it, taking the moment to retrieve his enchanted daggers. ‘What was the plan?’

He set it aside as he undressed the corpse and threw the larger armor over his body, hiding his notable fancy dress armor. While he wouldn’t escape a keen eye, he could now avoid being easily spotted in a crowd. His old armor was still in his adventurer’s bag, as well as his casual attire, but he couldn’t risk being recognized through them.

After cleaning up the death, Marstin calmly walked out the house and closed the rotting door behind him.

“Very impressive display,” a chuckling voice sent chills down Marstin’s back from behind him. “I can see the stories about you aren’t exaggerated.”

Marstin flung both enchanted daggers as he whirled around but struck nothing. The daggers returned to him upon failing to find a target.

“Now now, I’m here in peace,” the voice chuckled again. “Nice reflexes, by the way, but you need more training if you want to find me like this. Anyway, surely you haven’t forgotten my voice? After all, we had such a close relationship the last time we met,” the voice said, taunting Marstin.

The young man considered and flashed through his memories. “You’re the one who stabbed me,” Marstin said slowly. “After the caribou incident. The one with Roy. Correction, you assisted Roy in stabbing me, that’s right. You didn’t bother to hide then, so why now? Nervous?”

“Nice try,” the voice giggled now. “But you won’t be getting a rise out of me. Anyone would be nervous after meeting the great Sir Marstin, hero-to-be, and royal assassin.”

“The reports are false,” Marstin said coldly. “I saved his life.”

“Innocent people don’t run,” the voice taunted, somehow staying behind Marstin no matter where he turned his head. “But then, I suppose running has always been your best option. That isn’t an insult, by the way, it is the way of the thief.”

“Why are you here?” Marstin asked. “Are you here to kill me, or to capture me?”

“Neither,” the voice said with a little more seriousness. “I’m here to do my job, which luckily satisfies two sets of orders and saves me a lot of trouble. You remember what I told you when we parted last?”

“That I’m welcome to visit the Thieves’ Guild in Istut?” Marstin confirmed.

“Yes. The old farts on up high have a vested interest in your abilities and have been pleased with your actions ever since. Even I have been mildly impressed by what I’ve seen; no hesitation in taking down your enemy and making sure to properly clean up. You could join the Assassin’s Guild with your level of coldness,” the voice explained with a snort. “Not that you’d fit in with those murderers, I think. The boss wants to meet you face to face. Conveniently, we also were paid to keep you safe if anything were to happen to you in Istut by a third party. A strange order, to be sure, to give to thieves; but the gold is good, so who are we to argue?”

“Any proof I can trust you?” Marstin asked with an unbelieving expression. “You did try to kill me before.”

“I did sink a dagger into your gut,” the voice said with an audible sense of shrugging. “But killing you wasn’t really part of the deal with Roy, not that he understood that. By the way, you’ll get to meet him at the hideout, or what’s left of him, hee hee. Need me to swear a thief oath?”

The two snorted simultaneously at the thought.

“How’s this then,” the voice proposed. “You might not have noticed it, but this alley will soon be crawling with private noble guards who could give two craps about your continued existence. You may have thought the walls to be scalable, but you’d find their icy surface to be near impossible to climb even with your fancy daggers. You’ll also find patrols across the top and bottom of both sides of the wall, with no way to bypass the gates. What no one has likely bothered to tell you is that Iora is built on solid bedrock, making smuggling tunnels nearly impossible to dig under the outer wall, and completely impossible for the inner and royal walls. You are trapped like a rat in a shrinking room Marstin, and I’m the only one with a vested interest in keeping you alive and out of the hands of torturers. So, what will it be?”

Marstin’s mind quickly examined the options before him. The logic was clear; there was no good outcome, and everything he did from here on out would be a gamble.

“Steer clear. . . noble garrisons. . . entering alleys.” Marstin heard the garbled voice in his ear once more. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and stood down from his defensive posture, while keeping hold of his daggers.

“Wise choice,” said the figure that suddenly walked out of the shadows in front of Marstin. Like last time, the man or woman was covered from head to toe in black cloth and dark brown leather armor, with only their mouth visible under their dark hood, androgynous enough to be mistaken for either gender. The figure beckoned, and Marstin followed as they ran down the left side of the alley to another abandoned house. The thief pulled out a key and knocked twice against the door. Marstin didn’t hear an answering knock, and was surprised when his new ally suddenly pressed the key into the wall next to the door. The wall shimmered and became another door as if hidden by an illusion. The thief opened the door easily and walked through, Marstin following after a moment’s hesitation. Upon entering however, Marstin realized that illusion magic was too shallow of a thought as he found himself in an underground tunnel lit by torches along the walls. He looked back and found the door closed. He recognized the feeling he’d felt in his gut from passing the precipice.

“Come along now Marstin, places to be, people to see,” the thief joked and lightly skipped down the tunnel.

“Has anyone told you you’re insane?” Marstin asked straightforwardly.

“All the time,” the thief laughed. “And that’s why I’m the boss’s right-hand thief, and the best thief in Istut, sometimes. Maybe.” He or she shrugged. “I’m taking you straight to the boss so we avoid others seeing you. Don’t want anyone getting too greedy once ‘Wanted’ posters are issued for you, after all. This way now.”

Marstin followed his would-be rescuer through several side tunnels until they came to a large dark wood door.

“Brought you a present, boss!” the thief announced. “Have fun with him, he looks good enough to eat!”

Marstin glared at the masked figure, who chuckled and vanished back into the shadows. A moment later, the door opened and revealed a hint of the room within.

“Enter,” a voice rang out. Marstin blinked, slightly unbelieving. His emotionless state wavered suddenly. He pushed open the door and walked inside.

The floor was laid wood. A window allowed light to shine in from behind the table where they sat, waiting. Bookshelves lined the two sides of the room. Marstin found himself standing in a very familiar office, and his emotions overflowed as shock, disbelief, and resentment burst forth from within.

“Take a seat Marstin,” Yolna the half-elf and innkeeper of the Stargazer Inn said, indicating a pair of sofas in front of her desk. “We have much to discuss.”

Chapter 24

His mind was clear once more, but Marstin found himself unable to move. Yolna watched him patiently from behind her desk, not rushing him or pushing him to do anything. The moment of silence between the two began to grow heavy with tension as Marstin’s fists slowly clenched under Yolna’s watchful eyes.

“Why?” Marstin’s whispered question broke the silence.

Yolna’s body twitched at the question, and her eyes lost focus as they moved to stare at something beyond the young teen. Marstin turned his head to look and saw a picture frame standing in the middle of one of the bookshelves. He hadn’t seen it before, which meant it was new or had been purposely hidden away the last time he’d been in Yolna’s office. The picture was a very well-drawn image of four individuals all crowded together, smiling happily. The quality of the image could easily have been mistaken for a magically saved picture, had it not been for the subtle brushstrokes Marstin could find.

“There is so much I wish I could tell you, Marstin,” Yolna suddenly said, and Marstin turned to find her sitting lonely on one of the couches. “But as always, we lack the time truly needed to settle our affairs. I’m afraid this will only continue until those that slither in the dark are truly dealt with. Please, sit.”

Despite his rage and anguish, the desire to learn pushed him to sit across from the innkeeper and leader of the Thieves’ Guild. Marstin sat as straight as he could, his arms and legs locked as he struggled to deal with the emotions surging inside of him.

“You could have saved me,” Marstin declared.

“I could have,” Yolna agreed. “It wouldn’t have been easy, but I could have.”

Marstin shook his head slowly. “What are we?” he asked carefully. “I want a straight answer this time, not some cryptic bullcrap.”

“You are my nephew, by law,” Yolna explained. “I was married to your uncle, the sibling to your mother and best friend to your father.”

Marstin nodded slowly. Yolna took it as a sign and continued.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” she reminisced with a small smile. “I had just entered Istut on an assignment and didn’t understand the tastes and views of the natives. Thirty years ago, Istut was more inhospitable towards outsiders and non-humans, no matter how much human blood they possessed. I was accosted by a band of drunk bandits intending to sell me, and they managed to numb my tongue so I was unable to chant any spells. I was only saved by a brash young man and his best friend, only a year or two older than you are now; two youngsters trying to find a place in the world and deciding that rescuing a maiden was a good first step. They were my future husband, and your father. When they learned I was an adventurer, they pestered me to let them join so much I reluctantly admitted them. The guild hadn’t officially established itself in Istut yet, so as a C-ranked adventurer I was authorized to make field commissions if required. I hadn’t thought it to be an issue because I wasn’t planning to stick around Istut longer than the mission required. That plan originally was going well until the three of us came across a demon ambush attacking an escort and wagon. We helped the guards fight off the demons and learned we had just saved the life of the prince consort of Istut, Tormund.”

“The king?” Queen Nagri’s husband?” Marstin blinked, surprise in his eyes.

“Indeed,” Yolna nodded. “He had been feeling a bit of wanderlust and was tired of staying in the palace. His marriage had been decided by others, and though he held affection toward the crown princess he did not embrace the idea of a life controlled by others and had snuck out. He managed to convince me -- with the help of the trouble duo -- to also make him an adventurer, alongside his trusted servant girl. She was barely a teen herself, and quite the crybaby, but she refused to leave the prince’s side; and so, we became a group of five. . . well, once we escaped the prince’s escorts, anyway. After that, we journeyed around Istut and solved problems for several years, even overcoming challenges, such as demon worshippers and horror cultists seeking to create chaos. We even picked up another companion along the way, during a rescue mission on behalf of the tribes, and we became six. Before I knew it, the boys had grown into men, and the crybaby had become a solid and reliable companion. After that, things were easy. My husband managed to make me agree to marry him, and we retired to Graniton to build an inn for adventurers. Prince Tormund became king and began a campaign to change the country for the better, using his adventuring experience. Your mother even managed to make the knucklehead that was your father realize her charms after she ambushed and beat him, a strange Istutian custom I’ve never held great affection toward. Suffice it to say, King Tormund managed to convince your parents to take over the south of Istut as Margrave Hardgrove, though your father refused the title of Duke. Everything looked bright for the future ahead.

“At least, that was the case until 10 years ago,” Yolna’s visage saddened deeply. “None of us saw it coming. Tormund was ambushed and killed on the way back from a trade session with the tribes. Everyone was in a panic, and the situation only grew worse as the years passed. That day, I had just been preparing to warp to the capital when. . . when it happened.” Yolna’s face contorted into tears as she recalled. “My husband was cautioning me, as he liked to do despite my much greater experience, when the curse hit him. In that moment, I truly and honestly forgot who the man in front of me was, and why he was begging me for help. I couldn’t react fast enough, given the hole in my memories, and he died in front of me just as I realized something was wrong. Instantly, I cast the strongest spatial magic I could, relying on the inn to aid me in separating the space within from the rest of the world. When I did that, I remembered, and I wept beyond the limits of physical reason. I was dead to the world for several days before I felt the need to move again, and by then everything had come to an end, or so it appeared.”

Yolna locked eyes with Marstin. “My husband’s body still thrummed with the magic of the curse, despite his death. I realized by the nature of the curse that something had gone wrong and tried to investigate. However, I hit a snag and was forced to destroy his body before I was able to make substantial progress. I lost the ability to leave the inn and remained in a sort of emotional stasis of numbness, until you walked through the door that day months ago.”

Marstin took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “So, you only recognized me then? How did you become the leader of the Thieves’ Guild Istutian branch?”

“The answer to your first question is no, and is related to the second,” Yolna sighed. “Do you remember the training chamber beneath the inn? Ever wonder why I had doors for all four basic professions?”

“But your group had six members by the end,” Marstin pointed out the obvious issue. “Did you have multiple members taking on the same role?”

“You forget, the king was quite a talented technomancer,” Yolna reminded him gently. “It was with his help that I made the training trials, and several other unique parts within the Stargazer Inn such as the moving staircase. Your father was the fighter, your mother was the healer, your uncle was the thief, and I was the magic user, and all five of us were strong. As for the sixth, his method of fighting was uniquely different enough to not be restricted to a single path. While your uncle and I ‘officially’ retired to Graniton, in actuality he was made the leader of the Thieves’ Guild and the head of the intelligence guild of Istut, though the two roles were kept separate. The memory wipe from the curse caused the members of the guild to confuse me as ‘the leader of the Thieves’ Guild’s wife’ with ‘the leader of the Thieves’ Guild’, you see. The inconsistencies and my unfamiliarity with the role led to some issues, however, including the Graniton branch breaking away and consorting with demon worshippers. Thieves are only loyal to gold, after all, and I was forced to spend years consolidating my control over the guild to prevent similar tragedies like the Thrawnby Incident from happening again. I would have punished Cheven and his bunch had it not been for their shady connections with my husband’s murderers. I needed them alive to spy on them and track them, and it was through this that I came across your name, your history, and finally, your face.

“I chose to do nothing,” she whispered now, her face falling into her hands. “God above, I chose to do nothing. Worse still, I even considered for years whether killing you would be the right thing to do, to save you from your torment. But the one thing I couldn’t do, was save you.”

Marstin’s heart bled at Yolna’s shuddering figure, and his own tears flowed down his face like rivers of regret.

“What was so important to prevent you from doing anything?” he whispered as he sobbed. “What was it?”

Shakily, Yolna raised her head and stared at Marstin, before moving her hands to rub her belly.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said.

Marstin’s jaw dropped.

“I can only assume the curse missed it because the child hadn’t grown a heartbeat yet,” Yolna postulated. “But when I felt that first heartbeat, I saw the magic of the curse begin rising up from the coffin of my husband, and I disintegrated it without a moment’s hesitation. I then took steps to maintain the space within the inn existing apart from the outside world to avoid the curse. As a result, I became one with this space, trapped in a cage of my own design to protect my precious baby. And I froze the time within my womb to prevent my baby from growing, because how could I raise a child cut off from the rest of the world?”

“The curse targets the bloodline of my husband, but my child had not yet developed the heart and blood for the blood curse at that time. Had the curse passed as it should, I would have been able to birth my baby without fear. But, the curse still exists despite everything that has happened.” Yolna gave Marstin a deep stare. “Had I brought you into the inn without any preparation, would I not be risking the life of my baby? I cannot compare to the healing power your mother wielded, after all.”

“My mother? What do you mean?” Marstin started, wiping away his tears.

“The curse was targeted toward the bloodline, which your mother did not possess. Why do you think you’re still alive?” Yolna’s smile was callous and grief-stricken. “She saved you but doomed me and herself. She drew the worst of the curse into her own body, despite her own poisoning, and she sealed the remaining curse within your mind, where your magical talent could keep it sealed. It’s unfortunate she failed to understand the curse’s full power, resulting in your orphan life and years of weakening and suffering that only allowed the blood curse to slowly break the seal enough to make your life even more miserable.

“It would have been easy,” Yolna muttered aloud. “Killing you would spare you of further pain, and my child would be able to walk among the trees and snow like they were meant for. But every time I saw your face, all I could see were the faces of those youngsters who so filled my life with joy for the briefest of times, and I couldn’t do it. It was only by the whims of fate you survived, and entered my inn for the first time, finally lighting the flame of hope I long had thought gone.”

“Why did you let me inside in the first place?” Marstin sniffled. “Weren’t you afraid of the curse?”

“You were wondering where I vanished to for the last six months right? I was in deep meditation, renewing the spell on my womb, to which I had added a spatial separation seal once I received news of you joining the Adventurer’s Guild. Until the curse is dealt with properly, or you cease to enter my space, I will be required to spend half of the year renewing the spell to ensure we can speak safely.

“And I have no regrets in this,” Yolna gave Marstin a sad smile. “Because you are the key to everything. The curse still lives on within you, still being fed by the mana of the ones who cast it on you. But in its sealed state, this isn’t possible. You will need to unseal the curse trapped in your mind.”

Marstin looked down at his knees.

“Tell me,” Marstin asked. “Is it possible to live with the curse inside me as it is?”

“Time for me is different than for full-blooded humans,” Yolna said after a moment’s consideration. “But from what I can see, the curse has already begun to circumvent your mother’s seal on its own. I estimate you could live another three decades safely, as long as you stayed healthy; not quite a full lifespan, but more than many achieve.”

“Could I have kids?” Marstin asked thoughtfully, quietly.

“Only if the mother moved in with me,” Yolna smiled sadly once more. “But I wouldn’t be able to maintain the same spell on her. You’d never be able to meet your children in person, and they would never be able to leave the inn until you died.”

A single, final tear traveled down Marstin’s face.

“What happens if I unseal the curse?” he asked.

“I’m unsure,” Yolna admitted. “The curse has lived inside of you for so many years, it may have adapted to you. Most likely, you’ll die immediately, and the curse would end, but I would have enough time to track it to its source. It could also rob you of any number functions, instead of killing you, I suppose. Perhaps nothing happens is another possibility. Curse magic is not my field of expertise, and this curse is stranger than most.”

Marstin lifted his hands and gazed down at his palms. They were dirty, riddled with calluses and scars from a lifetime of training, working, and beatings. He thought of Kyra’s happy face and clenched his fists. He looked up at Yolna.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Tell me what I have to do to unseal this curse.”

Chapter 25

“As I previously said, curse magic is not my area of expertise,” Yolna explained. “And speaking humbly, we’d be hard pressed to find anyone with a greater ability to wield magic than myself in Istut , other than Queen Nagri and whoever sent the curse in the first place. The queen is incapable of dealing with the curse, and even if we could find the curse caster, I doubt they’d be interested.”

Marstin gave Yolna a questioning look.

She ignored him and continued to explain as she got up and walked over to the bookshelf behind her. “Of course, I have had plenty of time to do some research of my own. It has helped to have the Thieves’ Guild’s ability to retrieve certain. . . unique documents and records from otherwise troublesome individuals. My considerable wealth earned as an adventurer has played a part in keeping my interests separate from my role as guild master, allowing me to place jobs via third parties to the guild to ensure things get done, such as rescuing you, for instance. Thus, I believe I have created a ‘cure’, so to speak.”

She reached up and pulled on a book, which Marstin immediately noted to be bolted to the shelf. A loud clunk sound followed, and the inn owner pulled several more fake books, waiting for the sound before pulling the next. When the last clunk was heard, a drawer opened and revealed a sealed vial. Yolna picked it up carefully.

“I wasn’t able to complete this without your help, Marstin,” she said slowly, facing away from him. “The chest you retrieved for me, it was a special item our adventuring group picked up during an expedition into the Legendary Ice Castle dungeon. Its name is rather inelegant, but the kintarora knock flower is one of the few things in Palos that is a true panacea; a medicine that can cure anything. I have refined it with the monster core of a black ice mammoth, the strongest herbivore in the north, and a few other things of little importance. My research led me to believe this will begin the curing process to end the blood curse.”

She turned to face Marstin, her hand carefully holding the vial. “As I said, I am unsure what effect this will have on you. It is highly risky, and I would hesitate more had I not learned of your particular appetite.”

Marstin leaned back into the sofa and frowned. “For the sake of the situation, I’ll set aside how you know for a later talk. But since you know, I’ve always wondered why my body craves monster cores and wondered why I can eat them without getting sick.”

“I could not say,” Yolna shook her head. “Some people are born different, or maybe your body has gained this ability after living with the blood curse for so long. Your ability to digest monster cores works to our advantage, at least, though the strength of the black ice mammoth monster core is undoubtedly more dangerous than the tier 1 or 2 cores you have eaten so far.”

“How strong is a black ice mammoth?” Marstin asked.

“Tier 7,” Yolna said. “And the old ones can reach Tier 8. They are quite rare when compared to tier 4 frost mammoths, tier 5 ice mammoths, and tier 6 blue ice mammoths. I was quite lucky to have one left over from my adventuring days.”

“That’s a lot of mana,” Marstin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t look forward to the indigestion that’s going to give me.” He held his hand out to her. “Hand it over, I’ll take it.”

“Are you sure?” Yolna gave Marstin an intense look. “There’s no going back after this.”

Marstin kept his hand outstretched.

Yolna took a deep breath and handed over the vial. Marstin accepted it and examined the little glass container. The liquid inside was luminous, with sparkles fading in and out of existence with the swirling smokey blue and black substance. He popped the lid effortlessly and sucked the liquid down. It tasted like sugar-flavored ice, to Marstin’s annoyance. He would have preferred something a bit more sour to match his mood.

“How do you feel?” Yolna asked.

Marstin examined himself. “I don’t feel anything different. It might take some time.” He said after a moment’s consideration. “You said this was the first part of the cure?”

“Right,” Yolna nodded. “I had another concoction made using a tier 5 ice drake, the best I had on hand. Unlike this one, however, I found it unable to leave a chilled environment, so we’ll need to go to the hideout to retrieve it. Follow me.”

The innkeeper led Marstin out of her office and down the hall after where the masked figure had gone, but not before her form shivered and changed into that of a large and bulky hooded man. “Only my most trusted thieves know what I really look like,” she explained. A few turns and Marstin found himself in a large underground banquet hall, filled with several rows of long tables and an expansive bar along the wall. Several thieves were drinking or discussing plans in hushed tones, and none of them reacted to Yolna leading Marstin through the room.

“They are paid to mind their own business,” Yolna said off-handedly.

However, as they reached the other side of the room, a low tremble shook the hall. The thieves all raised their heads wearily with cautious looks, and Yolna frowned.

“What was that?” she asked in an authoritative voice.

A door on the left side of the room burst open, revealing the covered figure who had rescued Marstin. The ever-present smile was nowhere to be seen on their mouth. “Boss! We have multiple squads breaking into the guild! They’ve bypassed the first layer of defenses!”

Yolna cursed and snapped her fingers. “All guild members, we are under attack,” her voice suddenly echoed through the hideout, disguised to sound like a man’s. “Hold the intruders back while the rankers move the treasure, tools, and records into the revolving safe. I’ll be there shortly.”

Instantly, the banquet hall was emptied as the guild members ran towards the sounds of fighting.

“Boss, they’ve cut us off from the freezer,” the hooded figure revealed. “One of the bodies stored there went up like a fireball and took out the guards, that’s how they got it. I doubt anything survived the blast.”

Yolna frowned deeply and snapped her fingers. But nothing happened.

“They came prepared,” she said with deathly seriousness. “The space in the hideout has been locked down temporarily. I won’t be able to take you to retrieve the vial, Marstin, if it survived the blast. My child, who are the ones invading?”

“It looks like a mix of royal guards and city guards, but the armor is mostly fake,” they said quickly. “I would presume only a few are actual members, with the rest mercenaries or part of another organization. They’re organized and prepared for a fight, but they didn’t seem to expect the second line of defense.”

“Seems we’ll have to weed out the lower ranks again,” Yolna gritted her teeth. “The rats need to be punished.”

“What does this mean for me?” Marstin asked, rubbing his belly without noticing. The covered figure also waited for orders.

Yolna pursed her lips. “Follow me,” she ordered the two of them. “Quickly.” The disguised innkeeper led the two out a different door into the halls of the hideout.

“Our enemy appears to have taken the lead against us,” Yolna muttered as she practically flew down the dirt and stone passageway. “I won’t be able to make another vial, which means you’ll need to eat a stronger monster core to make up for the difference. A tier 7 ice wyvern should do the trick, combined with enough frost magic to cool you off. That means, to unseal the curse, you’ll need to travel to the tribes.”

“You mean, I need to go north?” Marstin asked in surprise. “I mean, no offence towards them, but what makes you think the tribes are capable, or even willing, to deal with this blood curse? And a tier 7 monster sounds like a living natural disaster. I’ve met several tribe members, and even worked with them, but they’ve never mentioned anyone with power like yours or the queen’s, capable of killing a tier 7 monster. And then, even if there wasn’t an issue with either previous question, there is the small matter of reaching them and leaving Iora.”

Yolna chuckled in spite of herself and the situation. “You were speaking to me in an office that currently exists outside of space and time; leaving Iora is the least of your concerns. As for reaching the tribal lands, I have a plan. As for whether they are capable or not, they would have long since been conquered by the greed of others if the tribes lacked strong fighters. Their culture isn’t like ours; those who reach my level of strength do not flaunt their abilities unless provoked. I’ve personally met a shaman years ago who could maintain an entire forest of green trees merely by sleeping. He might even still be alive, given his meditative state. Their bloodline magic connecting them to the winter runs very close to spirit or necromantic magic, making them highly aware of both blessings and curses. As luck would have it, this year is a centennial equinox.”

“I know a little about that,” Marstin nodded. “But how does that help?”

“Well, beyond the greater participation of their people, it also means that their magic will be at their strongest during this time. This is the reason why their ancestors that have joined with winter can return and partake in the festivities and ceremonies. It should be much easier to unseal the curse thanks to this,” she explained, taking a sharp turn down a staircase. “I’ll mark you so they know I sent you. I saved a few tribes once upon a time, and the tribes are much better at paying others back for their help than Istutians, I’ve found. Remember, eat a tier 7 ice wyvern core and then have a shaman use their magic to keep you cool. Your blood will certainly have a severe reaction, no matter the severity of the side effects, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll spontaneously combust.”

“Sounds delightful,” Marstin rolled his eyes. “And how about reaching them? Can you send me there with your magic?”

“Not while the space is locked,” Yolna shook her head. “They know you’re here, but they’ve underestimated my powers within this separate space. Since you’ve drunk the cure’s first part though, time is now of the essence, so you need to go now.”

As the trio rounded a corner into another room, they came face to face with a group of armored guards.

“It’s him, capture him!” the leader suddenly shouted. He then pulled out a whistle and blew, sending a signal down the halls.

“Protect him!” Yolna ordered before stomping quickly towards the group, her hands glowing with magical energy. “I’ve got this!” As the first two guards approached her, Yolna’s body blinked and reappeared with her hands on each of the guard’s heads. A moment later, and the two craniums exploded in a shower of gore and bone that shot back into their compatriots, heavily injuring the closest guards.

“Company!” the covered figure warned, pulling two short swords out of hidden folds in their outfit. Another squad of guards ran out from another tunnel towards them. Laughing maniacally, the figure spun through the air like a top with daggers outstretched before barreling into the group at a speed not physically possible for a spinning human. Heads flew through the air before the guards realized what was happening, but the survivors managed to use shields to push the covered figure back.

“Marstin!” Yolna’s warning cry was all he heard before something slammed into the young man’s back, sending him tumbling across the floor into the wall. Turning his head, Marstin saw a fake royal guard smiling sinisterly at him through an open helm.

“You’re coming with us boy,” the guard said savagely. “Got a lot of questions for you to answer.”

Marstin growled in response and attempted to summon his ‘blue aura’, only for the power to fail to appear. Instead, however, he felt something shift in his head and then his gut, causing him to cough violently.

The guard snorted and stomped toward Marstin; hand outstretched. The approaching hand suddenly shifted, and the young adventurer saw Burch’s cruel face reaching out to drag him to the torture room. Marstin’s eyes turned blazing red.

“Don’t touch me!” Marstin roared, and the air around him exploded, sending the guard rolling backwards. Dragging himself to his feet, Marstin clutched his suddenly throbbing head and roared out in pain. As he bent over, no one saw his eyes suddenly shift and morph into yellow cat eyes, but everyone did see a flurry of red, magical vines surge out of Marstin’s back and impale every enemy in the room. The invaders all screamed as their bodies contorted and expanded before imploding into dust. A moment later, the room was silent as a grave.

Marstin sighed as the pain vanished, and he looked up. Yolna had moved in front of him with a frown. “Feeling better?” she asked cautiously.

“I think so,” the older teen muttered. “I’m not sure what that was, but I think. . . my indigestion is gone.”

Yolna’s lips twitched in amusement. “Considering you caused 36 men and women to die of extreme mana poisoning, I can’t imagine what your potential truly is. But that means the cure is working, so let us make haste.”

As the group resumed their hurried flight, the hooded figure moved closer to Marstin.

“You need to teach me that later,” they whispered. “Seems like a useful trick for robbery and parties. Think it would be good for those southern, erm, piñatas?”

Marstin couldn’t think of much to say in answer to that.

After another minute of traversing the tunnels of the hideout, Yolna stopped in front of a metal door in the middle of the tunnel. “This leads to the sewers in the outer part of Iora,” she explained. “You’ll have to travel a ways, but you’ll come out a fair distance from the city with a pair of horses stabled nearby. They are specially bred by the guild for their speed and endurance, so you’ll be able to make the journey in half the time. Brack, my child, you must guide Marstin to the tribes safely.”

“Sure thing, boss,” the covered figure, Brack, saluted with a silly smile. “No problem.”

Yolna removed a monster core from her sleeve and threw it to Brack who, to Marstin’s surprise, swallowed it out of the air without any pause.

“That should power you for the journey there and back,” Yolna murmured. “Now you, Marstin.” Yolna’s ring suddenly glowed, and she pressed it into Marstin’s palm. The young adventurer examined the new mark on his hand curiously, noting its glow before it quickly vanished.

“It’ll glow when exposed to mana,” Yolna explained. “Now go, quickly!”

“Come along, Marstin, don’t dawdle,” Brack shouted as they entered the metal door. Marstin followed, only to find himself in total darkness. His dress armor activated a moment later, enchanting his sight with dark vision and allowing him to see the expansive passages of the sewer system that lined the flow of sewage down the pipes.

Brack was nowhere in sight. Marstin cursed, before a sudden wash of fatigue overcame him. He stumbled and kneeled onto the cold sewer floor, taking deep breaths. His mind didn’t feel impacted by the use of ‘red magic’ earlier, but it seemed the aches and pains he’d accumulated all seemed to come to life together.

“Using ‘red magic’ lightly must numb my sense of pain, followed by my emotions,” Marstin muttered to himself. “Doesn’t seem to come with a healing ability like ‘blue aura’ though. Damn, I really overdid it today.”

An angry chittering, followed by a new sharp pain in his leg, alerted Marstin to new trouble. A large rat was angrily biting his leg from behind, Marstin having entered its territory uninvited. Luckily, it didn’t appear to be a monster rat, but it had caused his leg to bleed.

Cursing, Marstin pulled out one of his large daggers and sank it into the rat’s head, killing it. He grimaced at the bleeding wound, and then at the sewage flowing next to him. It was not a good place to get injured, especially with an open wound.

“Marstin, there you are!” Brack’s voice suddenly rang out. “I’ve been looking for you. Didn’t expect the warp door to separate us like that; must be an effect of the hideout’s space being compromised. Ready to go?”

“Rat bit me,” Marstin groaned as he got back up. “Got anything to cover it?”

Brack came into view ahead of Marstin and walked over to examine the wound. After a moment, they rubbed their gloved hands together and smacked the wound, to Marstin’s shock. As he wheezed painfully, Marstin noticed the wound covered by a patch of black fabric.

“There you go,” Brack chuckled. “Good as new. Come hurry up, we need to leave before anyone finds us down here. Marstin obediently followed the strange clothed figure through the sewer tunnels.

“Unlike Iora, the sewers are pretty much the same as they were when this place was founded,” Brack lectured as they ran. “The architects found the sewers to be, well, set in stone so to speak, so no one had really bothered to change them or use them for anything beyond their current purpose. The guards don’t enjoy coming down here, and neither do monsters, so we thieves have traditionally used it as a hideout over the years. The boss, though, she took it a step further as you know, but all us thieves know these sewers like the back of our lockpicks.”

Thirty minutes later, the duo exited the sewers, the setting sun beyond Iora in the distance behind them. Brack led Marstin to a hidden stable under the trees, where a caretaker was watching several horses. A quick check of Brack’s guild token, and the duo were on their way towards the far north of Istut. Marstin turned to look back at Iora, watching the exact moment the sky was once again lit up by the many colors of human creation.

‘I’ll be back,’ he swore to himself.

Chapter 26

Things seemed to continue spiraling out of control when it came to Progen’s world. The dungeon crystal thought that he was just lucky to be still alive, especially with the frightening events that occurred back in the city, which he had been powerless to stop. It wasn’t a great feeling seeing something bad happening without having any way to prevent it.

After Marstin managed to evade his pursuers, he had met up with the Innkeeper from Graniton -- who was apparently some sort of mage with access to spatial powers, though she didn’t seem to be like those Void Assassins who had stabbed his host in the back. There was some enlightening talk that Stemmy had relayed to him about the origins of the blood curse, as well as the origins of Marstin’s parents, but that didn’t really concern him all that much. What did concern him was this proposed “cure” to eliminate the Blood Curse.

“Uh...I don’t think that’s a good idea. What do you think, Stemmy?”

Not a good idea at all. The monster core is powerful, but the host body presently can handle it with your help; but when it is crushed and combined with the other ingredients mentioned, mutations and unforeseen alterations could occur.

Progen could sense Stemmy taking the initiative, sending signals to stop Marstin from drinking whatever was in the container he was drinking from—but it was too late. While he informed the gustatory and olfactory systems that the substance was basically non-potable, the warning was too delayed to be of use, as a wash of liquid inundated the mouth and was swallowed almost immediately.

There was a sudden bright flash in his host’s stomach as the liquid pooled in the gastric acids inside of the organ, as the substance hidden in the drink seemed to dissolve into pure mana. In addition to the powdered monster core that infused the liquid, it was altered and he unfortunately recognized the source: dungeon mana that had likely come from the kintarora knock flower that Stemmy mentioned was inside of it.

Not only was the powdered core that Marstin swallowed a much higher tier of monster than he was used to, but it was also imbued with tiny, crystalized concentrations of foreign dungeon mana. It was these concentrations of mana that erupted all of a sudden by the introduction of the stomach’s natural acid, creating an explosion of energy that temporarily blinded Progen from seeing anything of his dungeon.

“Stemmy! Are you okay? What was that?”

I am fine. Normally, a person wouldn’t be affected by the traces of dungeon mana in the kintarora knock flower, and would only receive the beneficial curative properties. However, as it is a dungeon crystal-created organic, the infused dungeon mana has reacted with the monster core, making it more potent. Again, it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference -- if it hadn’t reacted to your presence here in the body, unfortunately.

A few seconds later, Progen was able to see again – and wished he could go back to being blind.

Everywhere he looked, the body was glowing with the introduction of foreign mana. His Magic Sniffers had located and revealed the presence of a magical essence, though they hadn’t disappeared like they had when identifying the poisonous enzymes. Instead, they were pulsing with a reddish glow, and the immediate area around them seemed to be completely cleared of foreign mana. It didn’t take him long to deduce where it might have gone.

“Did the Magic Sniffers absorb the foreign dungeon mana?” he asked, incredulous. If that was the case, then perhaps if he made more of them, he could eliminate the threat it posed to his dungeon. Already, his influence was starting to exert itself, clearing away tiny sections of the foreign energy little by little – but it could always use some help.

From what information I have, I would say that is likely. However, I don’t think it is quite in the way you mean.

“What are you talking about? If they can get rid of the mana, then why wouldn’t—”

There are events unfolding for Marstin right now; it appears as if his pursuers have found him.

Stemmy described Marstin trying to escape the strange Thieves’ Den they were inside, but it seemed as though they weren’t going to escape. As Marstin was stopped from leaving, Stemmy indicated that he was soon going to be surrounded and captured -- though from what he had overheard earlier, it was likely he wouldn’t live long enough to become a prisoner.

There was another tug that Progen sensed toward the brain, as Marstin attempted to use his mana to escape, but nothing came out. Desperate, he turned to his only other alternative--and that was where it all went wrong.

A tendril of blue and heavily red-streaked mana oozed out of the brain past the barrier that remained impenetrable to Progen. Just as Progen thought about trying to stop the oozing, the slow-moving, corrupted mana touched some of the foreign dungeon mana – and it was as if the red-streaked mana had its own shot of adrenaline hormones. It suddenly sped up with tremendous force, breaking through the paltry net of mana that Progen had hastily formed to prevent it from progressing further, and gobbling up additional foreign energy along the way.

Before long, the tendril that had emerged from the brain was an unstoppable wave. That wave quickly passed by the first of the Magic Sniffers nearest the brain barrier, flowing over and around it, where Progen could see it suck in some of the now blood-red mana, becoming engorged in the process.

The dungeon crystal was starting to panic. “How do I stop this?!”

You cannot.

Progen was so shocked at Stemmy’s response that he nearly missed the wave of mana crashing against the next nearest Magic Sniffer. That was the point where the dungeon crystal felt entirely powerless to stop whatever was coming, and he immediately knew how the cluster of interneuron cells could be so pessimistic: There was nothing he could do now other than hope that he and the body somehow survived and he was able to pick up the pieces.

All of those thoughts were due to a sudden reverberation that sprang into being inside of the two Magic Sniffers, a resonance that wasn’t there before. Progen felt horror as he watched a conduit of energy get established between the two Sniffers, culminating with a pulsing surge that seemed to vitalize the creeping red-tinged mana. Before he knew what was happening, the relatively slow crawl of the corrupted mana sped through the body, connecting with more and more of the strange immune cells that he had placed around to act as an early-warning net against attack. Except that, apparently, the attackers were commandeering the Arcanaphils for their own purpose.

Due to his shocked state, he wasn’t fast enough to try to prevent the spread nor the use of his Magic Sniffers; in less time than he cared to admit, the entire body was inundated with energized and corrupted mana – and there was nothing he could do. It didn’t seem to affect his immune cells, and the area around the appendix was entirely free of the red-tinted mana, but the rest of the body was, in essence, out of his control.

I still have access to all of the systems, but nothing is responding. What are your orders?

Looking around the body for an opening to start clearing out the mana that was being corrupted by the Blood Curse, he couldn’t find anything. Every time he started to try rounding it up in an effort to push it back up into the brain, he never moved it more than a tiny bit before he succumbed to the realization that it wouldn’t be moved. It wasn’t doing anything, though, nor did it appear as if it were harming the body by just existing; Progen doubted it would stay that way for long.

“I don’t know, Stemmy. I just don’t know.”

The tension of being surrounded by energized, corrupted mana was already starting to wear on Progen, but he didn’t have long to suffer. Within a few seconds of the start of the whole situation, something finally started to happen. The mana started to become agitated, swirling around and coursing through all of the systems, cycling through them all faster and faster, creating a reverberation that honestly frightened the dungeon crystal cowering down in the appendix.

I’m not cowering, I’m just being practical and staying out of the way, he told himself. It was like trying to hold back a mountain collapsing down on top of you; you could either stand in the way and get crushed, or try to move out of the way of the danger. He wasn’t suicidal, so it was just practical.

Regardless of the reason, he was stuck watching everything happen while feeling useless at the same time. He was beginning to think this was the end for him, that he would be overwhelmed and he would have no chance to take control of the body – because he would be destroyed in a matter of moments.

I don’t believe you are the target. Signals coursing through the nervous system are telling me that the intent of the mana is outside of the body.

“That’s…that’s wonderful to hear!” he almost shouted in glee, before calming down as he continued to watch the mana cycling through the body at an even faster rate. “But, if I’m not the target, nor does it appear as if the rest of the body is…then what is?”

I’m assuming that it is Marstin’s pursuers.

The smart little cluster of interneuron cells was absolutely correct. Even Progen could tell that the speed of the mana cycling was starting to reach a crescendo; what it would do when it achieved that was answered sooner than he thought. The rushing red-tinted mana suddenly spread outwards and drifted out to the external layers of the skin, where it was quickly expelled.

Various extensions of the mana have erupted from our host’s body, forming lengthy appendages not unlike flagellum seen on bacteria. They seemed to be controlled by the Blood Curse, and they are lashing out like super-heated whips of pure mana at those around him. It seems as though it burns upon contact; there is screaming and shouting coming from those affected by the appendages.

“Is it killing them?”

Affirmative. I believe that the corrupted mana overloaded their bodies and caused them to swell up and burst from mana poisoning, leaving them to collapse into dust. And...it is over. There is reported damage to quite a few areas of the body as the corrupted mana left them; I believe you can start repairing it now that the Blood Curse’s influence has been expelled.

Progen could see that himself, as he took a gander throughout his dungeon, seeing it in a horrific state of disarray. Dead cells, torn blood vessels, strained muscles, cracked bones, and severed nerves were the worst of the injuries—and the dungeon crystal went to work even as the last of the corrupted mana disappeared from his sight. Marstin seemed to feel better afterwards, though Progen was left more than a bit shaken. The liquid seemed to have dissolved as well, so hopefully that meant that the danger had passed.

It didn’t take long for his dungeon to start moving again, this time led through some sewers by a strange figure that Stemmy said wasn’t exactly a person. The dungeon crystal wasn’t sure what to make of that, but the “non-person” didn’t seem like a threat, so he ignored it.

A rat bit his lower leg, though fortunately Marstin was awake this time and was able to kill the rodent so that Progen didn’t have to, which was how it was supposed to be, while Progen worked on healing the wound and eliminating the pathogens that entered through the bite -- teamwork!

Eventually, they came out of the sewers and escaped the city, as well as (hopefully) having escaped Marstin’s pursuers. Mounting on horses, his dungeon and the “non-person” went north, where it was said that the tribes there could help with the Blood Curse. Progen had severe doubts, but at that point he would take just about anything that might help him get into the brain. Then again, the previous “cure” hadn’t worked so well, Progen remembered.

“Finally!” Progen exclaimed, glad that the life-and-death ups-and-downs over the last day had calmed down a little bit as they were traveling. Looking around inside at what still needed to be accomplished, the dungeon crystal was glad for the rest. In addition, the presence of all of the Magic Sniffers in the body was a surprise; he would’ve assumed that they might have been consumed when they were being used by the corrupted mana, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Instead, they looked perfectly normal, as if handling all that mana was normal. Progen almost got rid of them, afraid of the possibility that something like what recently happened might occur again, but he decided against it; the potential of another poisonous enzyme attack, or some other clandestine magical assault, was too great to eliminate his early warning system.

He was glad that he did, too, because not even a full day into the journey…somewhere…the entire circulatory system suddenly lit up with a glow, triggered by the presence of something magical in nature inside the blood.

Chapter 27

The duo rode through the night on their horses, neither interested in wasting any time sleeping and allowing for the possibility of pursuers catching up to them. Marstin and Brack were silent throughout the ride, their attention devoted to the path ahead of them. The black cloth-covered thief led the young adventurer through the plains that surrounded the capital and separated the northern forests of Istut from the southern half’s woods and fertile grassland. The thief had clearly traveled the path before, as they avoided all the major roads and kept to animal and trapper paths that even Marstin found hard to follow through the changes of the environment.

They only stopped the following day once the sun had begun to set. Brack slowed their horse to a cantor as they looked around the forest the two had entered a while ago. They pointed a moment later.

“Found it!” the thief called out, pointing towards something beyond Marstin’s vision. “I knew there would be a trapper camp around here. We are in luck, too: Seems it was used after the last snow. We’ll be able to use the leftover burned wood to start a fire.”

“Are you sure about that?” Marstin couldn’t help but ask, having raised a hand to help him squint to find what the thief had been referring to, “Fire is a good way to signal to others that we’re here. Doesn’t seem like the best option when on the run.”

“Fine,” the clothed figure chuckled. “You don’t want a fire? Good luck with the cold tonight. This isn’t the warm and cozy south, Marstin. The cold will kill you before you even have a chance to wake up, if you let it.”

“Warm and cozy?” Marstin mumbled to himself as he followed the thief toward the camp. “Is that meant to be a joke?” If the thief up ahead heard the young man, they didn’t react, though Marstin could have sworn he heard a snort.

With the two horses slowed down, Marstin had time to think and go over the changes in his body.

Despite not sleeping the previous night, he found himself oddly energetic and ready to keep traveling if needed. It was only his realization that a break was coming that set off a sense of fatigue in his mind, but his body didn’t feel tired at all. In fact, Marstin discovered, his body felt great. His injuries had all recovered over the day of riding despite the intensity of the journey, and his senses had mostly recovered to their. . . ‘well, to my level of normalcy,’ he reasoned to himself. The ‘blue aura’ seemed to be slowly recovering as well, possibly due to the powdered monster core in the cure vial.

Mentally however, Marstin wasn’t quite sure about himself. The aftereffects of using ‘red magic’ had passed after they left Iora, but something had changed. His eyes twitched as a swirl of red passed before him, vanishing a moment later. The voice of his inner demon had been oddly silent ever since Marstin’s escape from the guards, not even trying to coerce him to violence when the guild had been attacked. But the red swirls and smoke in his eyesight no longer left his vision, and he couldn’t make them leave. Their annoyance was minimal as neither impacted his vision, but there was no telling if this would always be the case.

The young adventurer felt a strange sense of trepidation at the situation. The voice of his inner demon had been a constant companion for years, but only this year had it grown from a voice to. . . what felt like a separate entity. What was it really? What did it want?

‘What do you want?’ Marstin asked himself. When he didn’t hear a reply, he turned the question toward himself. ‘What do I want?’ As he didn’t really have a good answer, Marstin let out a sigh of annoyance. There were many answers to that question: He wanted to return to Graniton and continue adventuring with Kyra, he wanted to know his true history and avenge his family, he wanted the mess of the trial to be over so he could stop pretending to be a hero, he wanted to not be wanted by the law, and he wanted some shine fish eyes to eat.

Marstin’s stomach growled audibly, distracting the young man from his inner musings. Not stopping to rest also meant he hadn’t eaten anything since the luncheon, and poisoned alcohol was not part of a balanced lunch.

“Any chance you brought some food with you?” he asked the thief up ahead.

“None whatsoever,” Brack said with a chirp, “Not something I usually worry about, that’s for the lower thieves on the rankings to worry about. I do have seasoning on me though, best thing to hide poisons with.”

“I thought you were a thief, not an assassin?” Marstin angrily asked, his mood worsened by the knowledge of no food.

“That’s true,” the hooded figure agreed. “I am a thief, the best in Istut in fact, maybe. But the boss’s orders come first before everything else, and so sometimes I need to use poison. Helps that some poisons also do wonders to metal alone or mixed with something else. I’m a very versatile thief.”

Marstin continued the grumble as they finally arrived at the campsite, which consisted of a clearing in the woods with a fire pit in the middle surrounded by a raised circular dirt platform meant for tents. The two got off their horses and tied them to a tree nearby, the two creatures proceeding to munch on the vegetation in reach without any signs of fatigue despite the long run.

Brack leaned over the firepit and moved the leftover wood and ash around. “Okay, seems like a good start here. Doesn’t seem to have rained or snowed in a while, so we’ll be able to find some good wood to burn around here. Mind giving me a hand, Marstin, while I catch you something?”

“Uh sure I guess,” Marstin answered, taken aback.

The thief ran off into the darkening woods after Marstin answered, leaving the slightly bewildered adventurer behind. He hadn’t expected the thief to leave so easily without any preparation, or light for that matter. Marstin shoved the many questions he had for the figure out of his mind and collected twigs, sticks, and logs for the fire. As he dragged over a particularly large log, he couldn’t help but shiver as a small breeze dragged frigid air over his skin. Despite still wearing two sets of armor, the messenger armor and the dress armor made by Sir Holler, the wind chill still somehow managed to creep its way through him.

“Seems like you’re starting to understand,” Brack’s voice startled Marstin from behind. “You might think you know cold, but that’s nothing compared to what we’re heading towards.” The thief wandered over to the fire with several horned rabbits hanging on a rope. “The north never leaves winter. The sky is normally cloudy, with clear days a rarity while snow falls almost every day. Blizzards are the enemy of every living thing, and you’ll find even arch-nemesis monsters huddling together for warmth during them. The wind can even become lethal if strong enough, carrying icicles torn from trees that can hit you as hard as a hammer. Only the toughest can survive the north without intelligence or wisdom, but they’ll never thrive. Why do you think the armies of Istut rarely venture past the borders into the north or the Country of Devils? It’s suicide for most of the troops.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Marstin said in disbelief. “The history of Istut is filled with conflict against the tribes and the devils. They surely did not die of frost before all those recorded victories.”

“Yup,” Brack agreed as they lit the wood with something they kept hidden in their hands. “You’re right there. In order to fight and raid, Istutian armies were equipped with the best of enchanted armor to ensure their survival. But, therein lay a problem.” The thief turned and wagged a finger at Marstin. “See, that kind of enchanted armor is expensive, and requires certain ingredients to make. The best armor is obviously made from monster leather; not only is it blessed with instinctive or natural magic from the beast, but also metal armor is a poor choice to use against the extreme cold the winters can bring. So, over many, many years the numerous beasts were hunted and turned into expensive armor for the army, and the leaders who paid for the armor used the looted bounty to reimburse costs. See the issue?”

“The monsters ran out,” Marstin realized. “And even today the number of predators hasn’t recovered, leading to problems with the caribou.”

“Exactly,” Brack chuckled. “Suddenly, the leaders and merchants couldn’t arm the army without paying a higher cost to ship the leather from other places, with the resulting armor not near the level of what it had once been. That was the start of the downfall of old mercenary Istut, and when the royal family rose to power with their bloodline capable of blocking the chill of winter on the battlefield. The civil war between the North and South that soon followed was the nail in coffin, as the mighty warriors of Istut died in droves, paid to fight by those mercenary groups floundering in Istut. There wasn’t much left after that you see. As Istut wasn’t a battlefield like Talin or Alevone, it didn’t receive much war compensation. So the country of mercenaries became a normal country, with a lot of bad blood with their two neighbors and no hope for reinforcements from the war-battered northern allies.”

“That was 200 years ago, though,” Marstin muttered as he sat down next to the fire with Brack. “How can problems from so far in the past still exist today?”

“Easy,” Brack chuckled with a sinisterly joyful tone that gave Marstin shivers. “Because humans haven’t changed. The self-serving nature of silver and gold will always move minds, just as the need for power will always fester in the hearts of those who desire more. And not all problems are just because of the selfish and malicious; just as many problems are made because of good intentions. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of killing all the dangerous monsters near your home, right?”

Marstin nodded. Brack snorted and rolled a log onto the growing fire.

“Good and bad are only perspectives, after all. Just look at the devils next door; their civilization has existed longer than any other on the continent, to my knowledge, and yet they seem to do just fine. They even ruled the world, what, 3 dynasties ago or something like that, before the giants and even the elves. They don’t even use clear issues of good vs. evil anymore, they just have a base set of laws and a giant list of ways to settle conflicts. Living there is both paradise and hell, hee hee.”

“You’re really weird for a human,” Marstin spoke up, finally unable to keep the feeling bottled up any longer. “If you are one. Eating monster cores is something I do because, well, I’m not sure, but I know it isn’t normal to do. And you talk like you’ve experienced these ancient events yourself.”

“Yup,” Brack giggled. “Well, not all of them, of course. But a good number of things I remember. Easy to do with an empty head.” They suddenly reached up and unraveled the black cloth around their head swiftly. Marstin watched curiously until Brack lifted up the hood and removed the headpiece and Marstin was left gob- smacked.

A featureless, bald head smiled at Marstin, the material where their eye should be squinching up to wink in greeting. The red lips and white teeth of the mouth stood out against the smooth, skin colored material of the head and neck, as if an artist had failed to finish painting a mannequin or puppet. Marstin felt incredibly unnerved, which was made worse when Brack removed the rest of the black cloth to reveal his not-quite-human body. Everything was proportionally correct, but every joint was clearly narrowed to reveal a metal piece that connected each one together.

“What do you think?” Brack laughed. “Feel weird yet? Maybe a little unnerved for reasons you can’t explain? That’s called the uncanny valley effect, a really neat trait you humans picked up to distinguish humans from not-quite-humans.”

“What are you?” Marstin’s question tumbled out as his instincts screamed at him to get away, confusing his rational mind.

“My exact identity isn’t important, really,” Brack shrugged humanly. “Just think of me as a puppet. A very well-made puppet. I was made. . . eh, a long time ago. A devil made me back in the day, or was it one of their enemies? In any case, I ended up hibernating deep in Iora after some conflict or another, not my fault, I swear. But Boss’s husband found me during one of their quests in the bowels of the city and had me fixed up. That king friend of theirs was a pretty smart cookie for a human, but the look on their face when I changed my body to match theirs, oh you should have been there, hee hee.” The puppet slapped their knee and laughed cheekily.

“You remember, because the curse can’t target you?” Marstin ventured.

“Correct,” Brack wagged their finger. “I’m fairly magic resistant already, and that pesky curse only affects humans in the first place. I was bonded to Boss’ husband, and inherited by Boss, so I became a thief to best serve them. Best thief in all of Istut actually, maybe, probably.” They shrugged. “I have to say it ambiguously because the definition of best thief is something that seems to always change. But, I have never failed my missions.”

“When I’m not doing that,” Brack continued. “I maintain the boss's golems for her, since she doesn’t have the same knack as that dead king. You’ve met them, right? I know one of the ones closest to me works the desk in Graniton for the boss when she’s occupied. It was happy you liked their map.”

“Golems, made to take after you,” Marstin considered and realized something. “That’s why she needed me to bring her the rocks from the golem dungeon. The king must have tried to make more like you before he died.”

“He certainly tried,” the puppet agreed. “Not sure how far he got though, it’s not like what I’m made out of grows out of trees. . . to my knowledge anyway. Maybe I was made out of a really flexible fruit?” They snorted.

“Why are you always laughing and smiling?” Marstin winced. “That’s really off putting honestly. Er, no offense meant.”

“None taken,” Brack said cheerfully. “See, I’m not human so I can’t be a human. The next best thing is to put other humans at ease, so I learned to laugh and smile to make them feel better. Humor also seems to go a long way to settling you humans, so I try to be funny, too.”

“Do you mean any of it?” Marstin asked, eyes narrowed.

Brack was silent, and the smile faded away into a blank look.

“Does it matter?” the puppet asked with uncharacteristic solemness. “You seem to be under the false impression that I possess motivations and desires like a human. I am, for your purposes, a puppet. I serve my master and follow their instructions. It is my purpose. Feelings are not needed or required for this. The human need and reliance on such things arises from a survival instinct and social codependency. From both of which, I am free of.”

“But how can you be alive, then?” Marstin asked.

Brack cocked their head at Marstin curiously. “I am not alive: I cannot reproduce, I cannot grow in any capacity beyond learning ability, and I cannot take the initiative to react to my environment without direction. Giving me emotions would only lead to unneeded pain.”

“But without pain, you can never learn empathy,” Marstin observed.

The puppet smiled again and chuckled, wrapping the black cloth tightly around their body once more and lowering the hood back over their face. “And that is why I disturb you, in the end, and why I can never fit in with normal humans. Sinking a dagger into your gut is just as easy to me as saving your life. Don’t put any more thought towards it, Marstin. Sometimes, the world truly is black and white.

“Now,” they clapped their hands happily. “Let’s get to roasting those rabbits for you. I heard you’re a bug eater, oh, I mean a big eater!” Brack giggled happily.

The cooked rabbits were bland even with the seasoning, and Marstin soon learned the consequence of eating unprepared monster meat as he fought with indigestion all night.

The two didn’t speak as much after that, Marstin alone with his thoughts while Brack focused on completing the task they’d been assigned by Yolna. They traveled on the horses for two more days and nights, entering a seemingly never-ending frozen forest towards the end of the first day. Their luck had kept up with them until the second night, when a ‘light’ blizzard fell upon the duo.

They were forced into an old ice cave, a pile of frozen snow into which someone had once carved a den, with the horses, who were having trouble keeping warm despite their monstrous bloodline. Marstin was forced to abandon his outer layer of stolen messenger armor as he shivered uncontrollably. The two layers had made him sweat during the journey, and it was biting into him now how much of a mistake that had been.

“Try and stay awake, Marstin!” Brack ordered as it used its human-like body to try and keep the young man warm. But Marstin was fading in and out as the cold began to feel cozier. If he could only just shut his eyes for a little while. . .

“Marstin! MARSTIN!”

Chapter 28

“Uh, Stemmy…I think we have a problem.”

I detect no disturbance being relayed throughout the nervous system that is unrelated to the current injuries.

“That may as well be, but something is obviously here and I have no way of pinpointing it.”

Why?

“Because it seems to be everywhere.” The newly renamed Magic Amplifiers had shown that the entire circulatory system – every capillary, every vein, and every artery in the body – was filled with a magic effect of some sort, though it was impossible to see if it extended to the brain or not. Regardless, it was worrisome, even though there didn’t seem to be any specific threat he could identify, unlike the cyanide enzymes that had been pinpointed before.

It could be residual energy left over by the presence of the corrupted mana, though why it didn’t appear until now is something I am unable to answer.

“Yes, that is certainly the question that should be asked,” Progen grumbled, unnerved by the presence of a hostile effect after so much time has passed since the corrupted mana had departed the body, leaving it basically in ruins. He was almost positive that it was hostile, as well, because the Amplifiers didn’t seem to react like this when Progen’s mana was used in the body – so that only made sense, right?

Despite this new, unknown threat that he was going to have to address at some point, he had work to do. Keeping at least 3,000 mana in reserve in case of emergencies, Progen used the restarted mana regeneration to continue healing the body from everything that had happened over the last day, helped by the natural processes it also used to slowly replace dead cells and make corrections to different parts of the body that had been recently messed up. It seems like that’s all I do nowadays; protect from pathogen invasions and heal my dungeon after it gets messed up. There has to be more to this, but it feels like my growth has severely stagnated.

It was a common thought lately, of course, but it was also one that he had no solution in how to change his circumstances. True, he was making his dungeon safer and better able to combat unexpected injuries and infections, but eventually he would hit a wall where he couldn’t do any more. Just like the barrier that prevented him from taking control of the brain, that approaching wall felt like it was mocking his efforts.

Progen’s worries started to fade after almost a full day of constant healing progress and Marstin’s traveling that was interrupted by…nothing. Not a single thing seemed to happen as a result of the magical essence inside of the bloodstream, so the dungeon crystal started to think that it was all some sort of mistake, some sort of accident or glitch in the way his Magic Amplifiers worked.

That, inevitably, was when the first inklings of what he was dealing with made themselves known.

Progen, I have communication regarding a blockage in the anterior tibial vein in the right leg. I do not remember there being any specific damage there as a result of the incident approximately 35 hours ago.

The “incident” that he referred to was what they had taken to calling the unrestrained presence of the corrupted mana and what it had left behind, and Progen had to admit that he couldn’t remember there being any damage there, as well. Then again, there was so much that had been messed up that it wouldn’t surprise the dungeon crystal that he had fixed it already; if that were true, though, there really shouldn’t be any reason why it should be causing problems.

It didn’t take Progen more than a moment to focus on the vein that Stemmy had mentioned, located near the tibialis anterior muscle in the lower leg. In a general sense, he could see exactly where the blockage was occurring; the flow of the plasma through the vein was partially restricted by something inside. It wasn’t a full blockage, but it was enough to put a strain on the vessel as hundreds of thousands of red blood vessels were clumping and clotting, trying to pass through the obstruction.

When he focused closer, he had to look twice at what he was seeing, because he couldn’t believe it. “Stemmy? What are those?” he asked with a more-than-obvious strain to his tone. He couldn’t help it, though, because he was so shocked that he could barely contain his confusion.

I do not know what you are referring to. I have no reports of any pathogens being in the vicinity.

“I can certainly understand that, because I don’t think these are pathogens like we know them.” It took him a moment to collect himself, before Progen started to describe what he was seeing.

“I see dozens of, well, constructs are the best way that I can describe them,” he began. “They seem to be created from red blood vessels, with platelets as a binding agent, combining and manipulating them until they resemble extremely large, free-floating skulls. Horned skulls, though, like the skull of some sort of goat, with horns sticking out from the top of their frontal cranial plates.”

Those really shouldn’t be there.

That was the biggest understatement Progen had ever heard. “Yes, they shouldn’t even exist, Stemmy – but what am I supposed to do about them?” The dungeon crystal watched the Bloody Horned Skulls, each of which was the size of 40 of his Mega Newts, swallow up large gulps of red blood vessels that were streaming towards them. From what he could tell, their sharp “teeth” were made from tightly compacted platelets, giving them a firmer structure than cells normally possessed; as soon as the body’s red blood cells passed through the Horned Skulls’ mouths, the jaws compressed together and started chewing up the vital components to the blood, shredding them apart.

Worse yet, as they were broken apart, the Skulls seemed to consume them by absorbing their components. Progen watched in horror as each of them seemed to increase in size, little by little, in small increments. Those increments were small at the moment, but they would likely grow as more and more red blood cells were swallowed up.

“Where did these come from? Is this a result of the foreign dungeon mana that was detected?” The dungeon crystal began to panic as he took a quick look through the rest of the circulatory system, hunting for any other Skulls that might be around. He didn’t see any of them anywhere else, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any; if they started out small, barely bigger than a few red blood cells put together, it would be nearly as hard to locate them as it had been with the cyanide enzyme-infected cells. The glow that permeated the entire system didn’t seem changed around the Skulls at all, so it was impossible to use that as a guide for finding more of them.

Regardless of whether there were more, Progen had to destroy these Bloody Horned Skulls before they grew too large to exterminate. But how was he supposed to do that? Immediately corralling 10 of his closest immune cell groups to the location in the vein, he considered his attack strategy.

If you are correct, they seem to be made from red blood cells, even if they are combined together. Your cells should be capable of damaging them, though how much damage they can do is something you will have to find out.

“Well, then – there’s no time like the present. I’m sending them in now.”

In total, Progen counted 63 of the Skulls, loosely lined up next to each other, creating a barrier in the vein that stretched most of the way across the vessel. He estimated that if they had another 20 Skulls, they could block just about everything trying to make their way through; either that, or if they had another few hours to grow, there wouldn’t be anything to prevent them from stretching from vein wall to vein wall. On the edge of the screen of Horned Skulls was one that was just slightly out of alignment with the others, isolated enough that the dungeon crystal made it his first target.

Each scouting group now possessed:

·    500 Newts

·    10 Mega Newts

·    100 Reporters

·    50 Spawners

·    5 Cleaners

·    3 Historians,

·    30 Novice Killers

·    10 Veteran Killers (primed with the most common bacterial information)

·    1 Commander

Those were there to handle most bacterial infections – and they did a phenomenal job of it, too. Over time, he had also added:

·    40 Seekers

·    10 Assassins

·    5 Natural Killers

·    2 Regulators

The Seekers and Assassins were on call in case a viral infection was being sneaky by hiding from his forces. The Regulators and Natural Killers were added recently, to be able to immediately eliminate any cancerous cells, for which he had spent a lot of time searching for cancerous cells after a lot of healing was done.

Unfortunately, none of the microscopic soldiers were particularly suited to taking on and destroying a giant bloody skull created from twisted red blood cells and platelets, snacking on blood so that it could absorb it and become larger. In all possible circumstances, it was unlikely that there was anything natural that was designed to tackle something like that; but the stalwart dungeon crystal was going to try.

Instructing all 7,660 immune cells to attack the stray Skull on the edge, Progen watched as they swarmed the massive enemy, their numbers great enough to completely surround it. His Newts were the first to latch on to the Skull, doing their best to absorb small chunks of its form; they were surprisingly effective for the first few moments before the Skull could do anything in response, taking tiny bites out of the bloody construct. With 5,000 of them, they practically covered every visible portion of the large enemy, only backing off when they were “full” and needed to break down and digest the portion of the Skull they had bitten off.

They had a full 5 seconds of unmitigated consumption before the Horned opponent reacted, spinning around in the bloody plasma (as if it were on a swivel) so quickly that thousands of Newts were flung away from it. A few had hung on because they were in the process of taking a bite, and as soon as they finished Progen was able to see the damage they had caused. Gigantic holes were seen all over the Skull’s form, and its jaw was completely disconnected, hanging loose in a collection of stretched red blood cells and platelets. It was in pretty bad shape, and were it a monster outside of a dungeon, it probably would’ve been dead.

Unfortunately, the Bloody Horned Skull seemed to be made of sterner stuff, because it didn’t seem fazed by the fact that it was missing half of its form. It immediately chased after the nearest Newts, smashing into them with such force that a dozen Newts practically disintegrated from the impact. Progen could tell that it was trying to chomp down on another group, but with the damage to its lower portions, all it did was swing the platelet-covered jaw around ineffectually.

Thousands of antibody projectiles slammed into the back of the Skull next, like bolts launched by crossbows, their makeup designed to combat common bacteria; but it was more their piercing power that Progen wanted at the moment. As 50 or more of the antibodies embedded themselves in the red blood cells that made up the majority of the Skull, the cell walls collapsed inward, deflating as their innards were sent out into the plasma in the vessel.

Yet, it still wasn’t dead, despite two-thirds of it being destroyed.

Mega Newts arrived next, and what was left of the Skull charged toward the closest one, obliterating the large immune cell as it barely slowed down. As it turned to rush another one, the rest of the Mega Newts descended upon the nearly dead Skull and swallowed it up piecemeal. As the last of the blood-created enemies was consumed, Progen relaxed in relief, glad to see that they could be killed after all.

Then he looked around after his successful destruction of a single Bloody Horned Skull and saw 62 more of them staring in his immune cells’ direction; the dungeon crystal got the impression that their empty eye sockets were burning in anger. There was a lack of movement other than normal red blood cells and platelets passing through the vein…and then the horde of Skulls descended upon his scouting groups like an avenging force.

“Um, Stemmy? Can you possibly tell the body’s immune system that I need some help here?”

I already did; they’re on their way. I doubt it will do much good, though.

“What? Why not?” The leading edge of the Skulls smashed through the hastily built line he had assembled with his remaining 4,900-odd Newts, doing nothing to slow them down. Fortunately, it seemed as though they couldn’t turn in the middle of a surge, like a bull that charges ahead until it is forced to stop; as a result, the other immune cells behind the line of Newts were saved from oblivion because they were out of position.

Because there aren’t any methods by which the immune system will naturally attack red blood cells; I believe I read somewhere that there was an antibody that can be produced that will change that, but I do not know what it is.

“So, no help from the body?” he whined, before firming up his resolve. “Fine, I’ll do this myself.”

The battle was already becoming chaotic, as things were becoming a free-for-all when the Skulls got in the middle of Progen’s forces, so it was time to see what some of his other immune cells could do. With some of his Newts as a cover, he sent in Assassins and Natural Killers to see their effectiveness; when they got close enough, they were able to pierce their appendages into the red blood cells that made up the Skulls, with only one of them proving to be quite effective.

The Assassins pumped cell-killing molecules into the enemy cells, destroying them quickly, while the Natural Killers were practically useless. While they were able to pierce into their target cells, red blood cells didn’t have a nucleus in which to puncture, so all they ended up doing was make a hole in the cell walls that wasn’t wide enough to make them collapse.

While the Assassins were destructive, they were also quite fragile. At one point, 10 Assassins were injecting their molecules inside of a Skull, when their opponent chose at that time to spin around like Progen had seen before, tearing off the Assassins’ puncturing appendage. When they were torn off, the damage was enough to collapse the immune mutations’ cell walls, killing them almost instantly.

His Cleaners weren’t much help, though along with the Mega Newts they were able to inflict quite a bit of damage. The Veteran Killers spun and tore up big chunks of Skulls, even as they were bitten down on and destroyed, and the Novice Killers pitched in and did their part. He really couldn’t fault any of his immune cells for their efforts, because they did exactly what they were supposed to do – which was essentially anything they could in order to inflict damage.

For nearly 20 minutes, the battle between his immune cells and the Blood Horned Skulls in the anterior tibial vein raged, as Progen was forced to call in reinforcements; an additional 20 scouting groups were brought in to bolster his devastated defense. Even that – bringing the number of immune cells he had brought in to fight the Skulls to over 22,000 – was barely enough to win the day. By the end, almost all of the 15,000 Newts that had arrived were destroyed, along with all but a handful of Mega Newts, Killers of different types, and approximately 400 Spawners. 10% of his total scouting population was destroyed, just like that.

Granted, he could theoretically pull away the nearly quarter-million Newts he had constantly fighting incoming pathogens in the respiratory system, if he needed them. But then he would leave a lot of the system unguarded. Though Progen wasn’t quite ready to hand the reins of protection back to the body, he was more confident lately that it could certainly take care of problems without his help. It had been trudging along in their difficult host for a number of years before he had even showed up, after all.

At this moment, though, his confidence in the body’s systems was at a bit of a low right now. As Stemmy had predicted, tens of thousands of immune cells controlled by the body had shown up to where the battle was raging – yet not a single one of them did anything. It was almost as though each Bloody Horned Skull was invisible, and there was no way to trigger them to attack it; Progen was only able to attack them because he could direct his own forces to do whatever he needed of them, but the body’s immune cells weren’t that versatile.

“There has to be a better way to kill these things if they show up ag—"

Progen, I have communication regarding a blockage in the ulnar vein in the left arm.

“Re-routing forces now!” A quick peek at the ulnar vein showed where the blockage was coming from, and sure enough there were another 60 or so Blood Horned Skulls causing all of the problems. They were a bit smaller than the ones he had just fought, but they were still big enough to cause some issues. Rather than go in short-handed, Progen sent in 50 scouting groups and pulled 20,000 Newts from the respiratory system to help out.

Progen, I have communication regarding a blockage in the internal iliac vein near the intestines.

“Great. On it.” Things were getting worse by the minute and the dungeon crystal couldn’t help thinking he was soon going to run into a lack of resources if it kept up.

Progen, I have communication regarding….

Chapter 29

“Just what are we dealing with here, Stemmy?” Progen asked, mentally exhausted after the last 12 hours.

The communication regarding blood vessels being blocked had been just the beginning. Those situations required an emergency transfer of Progen’s army of Newts in the respiratory system to combat the surges in Bloody Horned Skulls, and this time he didn’t hold back. 30,000 Newts each descended on the 5 blockages, wiping out the Skulls with greater numbers and by swarming the dozens of the enemy before they could properly organize and fight back.

That didn’t mean he didn’t lose any of his Newts. On the contrary, each group of 30,000 Newts was devastated, with 40% of their number smashed down to their components or “bitten” in half. It wasn’t that the Skulls seemed to have adapted to their attacks, though; it was more that there were only so many Newts that could attack at one point, and the red blood cell-formed enemies were wild and unpredictable.

Not only did they spin around in place, throwing off the attacking Newts in all directions with enough force to occasionally tear them apart, but they would randomly run into each other with their charging attacks, obliterating hundreds or thousands of his immune cells that were caught in between them. In addition, it was quickly discovered that their horns were more than just decoration, as they were tipped with more condensed platelets; their in-place rotations became whirlwinds of cell death as they started spinning with their horns angled for maximum carnage.

That wasn’t the worst of it, however – the blockages in the blood vessels were just the beginning. Soon enough, the Bloody Horned Skulls were showing up in the bone marrow; again, their emergence seemed entirely random, popping up unexpectedly in different areas of the body. The bone marrow, which so far had been relatively untouched by most of the different threats over the past year or so, was one of the most important parts of the body because of their production of cells. They manufactured the body’s stem cells, which turned into red blood cells, immune cells, and platelets; when the Skulls invaded, it was as though a buffet awaited them.

Attacking at the source of so many important cells was very detrimental to the body, because Progen swiftly learned that stem cells were a delicacy to the Bloody Horned Skulls. Not because they tasted good, though, but because they sped up their growth by at least 50% compared to the ingestion of red blood cells and platelets. The larger size of the enemy rendered those fights some of the most lethal, with an 80% death rate in his immune cells sent to destroy the Skulls.

The third place that the Horned figures attacked was near a few minor lacerations in the skin that hadn’t been fully healed yet. They were relatively insignificant by themselves, because they could easily be repaired, but the Skulls appeared as gatekeepers of sorts, not allowing the naturally healing process to happen because they consumed all of the platelets that were there to help with clotting and repairing the wounds. Once they were wiped out by Progen’s forces, it was easy enough to spend a little more mana to heal the minor injuries afterwards, thereby giving the Skulls another target.

More and more mana surged into his dungeon crystal when these bloodborne invaders were destroyed, which helped to replace what he was losing in terms of immune cells in the process. At least, they were replaced in part. Only about 50% of Progen’s forces were able to be replaced from the incoming mana, which definitely wasn’t a sustainable endeavor. Eventually, he would run out of immune cells altogether, and with the body’s immune system doing absolutely nothing to help (it was still completely ignoring the Skulls as if they weren’t even there), something would have to change. All of which led Progen to ask Stemmy if he had any more information that could help with the defense – because it didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon; he found that it would slow down from time to time, but it would pick back up before too long.

From my evaluation of how these Bloody Horned Skulls are reacting to your attacks on them, I am 95% positive that they aren’t created by the Blood Curse.

“What? That seems impossible; I mean, Blood Curse? It’s kind of in the name, right?”

While there is definitely a tenuous connection between them, there isn’t a direct connection. Instead, I believe these have come from what Marstin ingested that led to the breakout of the corrupted mana, if you remember.

Progen remembered that fully, mainly because he was periodically using some of his mana to help heal some of those areas of his host that were still far from normal. Even given that, he couldn’t figure out what Stemmy was talking about. “What do you mean?”

The Skulls are uncoordinated, unled by a central intelligence controlling their actions. Unlike what the Blood Curse has done before, these are free of its power; while their appearance may have been initiated and even influenced in part by the Curse, it no longer controls or has anything to do with them. Instead, they seem to be autonomous, as if they were monsters in the wild.

“Monsters in the wild?” That phrase started his exhausted mind back up as he thought about it for a moment. Suddenly, he had it. “The powdered monster core!”

Precisely. Along with the energy that it came infused with, I believe this whole situation is a perpetuating creation of small monsters in the form of these Bloody Horned Skulls. This phenomenon is using the natural mana in the body to create their monsters, similar to how you utilize it to create immune cells; in this case, though, the process is entirely random with no one in control. There is no focus, no ultimate plan to what they are doing, which is unlike the Blood Curse, because it seems to have a plan for every action it takes.

That was, as far as Progen could tell, true. While they seemed to work together, like wolves hunting in a pack, there was no rhyme or reason to their abrupt appearance, nor to their locations. Since the magical energy seemed to be throughout the entire circulatory system, it would’ve made sense if they had concentrated on specific areas that were the most crucial – such as the heart or some of the major arteries that pumped blood to every part of the body. Since that didn’t happen, it certainly felt as if they were cropping up without any other purpose other than to attack wherever they seemed to form, no matter whether it were a small capillary in the lungs that ultimately wouldn’t affect much if it were to remain blocked for a significant amount of time, or a vein in a toe that could produce painful swelling but not much else.

Progen, himself, was starting to put things together now. “If you’re correct, then the Blood Curse doesn’t create foes like this, but only influences those that are already in the body. This is entirely due to that ‘cure’ that Marstin ingested, though the side-effects of it was something that no one could’ve predicted.” Progen thought about it for another minute, attempting to see a flaw in his evaluation but not finding anything that would contradict it. “I think you’re right, Stemmy – this is not the work of the Blood Curse.”

Precisely.

“But that ultimately doesn’t matter,” the dungeon crystal continued, “because we’re going to lose everything if we can’t find a way to stop this. Do you have any idea how we can keep these Skulls from reappearing?” The task seemed impossible, because the magical effect was still ongoing, and if Stemmy was correct, it would keep happening perpetually.

None that I can determine at this time.

“So, if we can’t end the threat, we have to find a way to contain them somehow.” That was easier said than done, however, because unlike bacteria and other pathogens that had an access point that was easy to determine (such as the mouth and wounds), the Bloody Horned Skulls seemed to crop up randomly in the circulatory system. “And that just might be the solution,” he said slowly, an idea cropping up.

What solution is that?

Progen didn’t answer right away, and in fact was delayed as Stemmy reported another upcropping of Skulls in a random vein. As he sent another force of 25,000 Newts to eliminate the threat, he considered what it was he was contemplating. “Well, it obviously isn’t feasible to create thousands or even millions of Newts at this point, even if they seem to be the most effective for their cost,” he explained slowly, still working it out in his mind. “All of the other immune cells, while some are marginally more effective in destroying the Skulls, are too expensive in mana cost to justify creating them. But what if the solution isn’t in my immune cells, or at least not primarily in my immune cells?”

Now it was Stemmy’s turn to ask what Progen meant by that.

“Well, I’ve already put what I’m thinking of into practice with the respiratory and even the digestive system to some degree, where I’ve placed traps to eliminate many of the incoming pathogens as soon as they arrive. But this entire body is my dungeon, so why don’t I continue the defense elsewhere?”

If you’re talking about trapping the entire circulatory system, then you may need to rethink that. There are over 66,000 miles of blood vessels running through this body, and defending all of that would be nearly impossible, or would take centuries to fill completely.

That was precisely why it had been so hard to find the cyanide enzymes before, and why it was proving extremely difficult to locate new clusters of Skulls before they started causing a problem. There were just so many red blood cells in the body, along with blood vessels, that focusing on new issues was hard to do with so much to look at. But with what he was thinking of, it wasn’t necessary to defend all of the circulatory system – just certain parts.

“I don’t need to trap all 66,000 miles of the circulatory system, Stemmy,” he retorted. “I only need to create areas in different sections that would do the work for me.”

How is that supposed to help, given that they seem to crop up randomly?

Progen replied with amusement, for once figuring it out before Stemmy had. “You said it yourself, Stemmy. These Skulls are very dangerous if left unchecked, but they are also not being controlled by anything but their instincts. We’ve already seen that they will react to a threat or a ‘tastier’ option if presented with one, without regard to their safety or a plan of attack other than crush, kill, and destroy. We’ve also seen them move out of the position that they initially set themselves up into, so—”

You’re going to lure them into the traps you have set up in different areas. That might just work.

Though a tad perturbed at being interrupted, the dungeon crystal was nonetheless still pleased that he had come up with the solution first. Still, he wasn’t done yet; while the traps he was planning on setting up would certainly be effective if he placed them correctly, he would be surprised if they were able to eliminate every single one. Just like a normal dungeon, traps alone weren’t the only thing that was needed for a proper defense: He needed some monsters of his own.

The respiratory and digestive systems had thousands of Newts at their disposal to complement the traps placed to destroy incoming pathogens (albeit with much less at the moment because of the attrition placed upon them by swarming Bloody Horned Skulls), though they were a simple solution for a simple problem. They worked extremely well against bacteria and even virus virions when they reacted fast enough, but they were just barely effective against the red blood cell-created enemies—and only in large numbers. What Progen needed was something new, something that wasn’t designed to combat the normal pathogens that the body saw; instead, it would be a monstrous mutation that was designed to combat the Skulls on a more even level.

The problem with fighting against the new threats was the fact that they were so large. A thousand or so Newts could theoretically surround one of them at any one time, which meant there were two solutions that became obvious to the dungeon crystal. Either he could find something that would be effective at a smaller size but in more numbers – similar to the Viral Whips he had created to combat the Insidious Virus or the Ankle-Biters to wipe out cancerous cells – or he could create something larger, like some sort of a colossal Newt or Hunter Crab-like mutation he’d created to combat the Parasyte. Either of those could potentially be a solution, but for some reason, Progen didn’t think that was the way to go.

The problem with a larger Newt, such as a Neutrophil (Newt) +2 Stage 2 or +3 Stage 3 Evolution mutation, was that it would likely be rather expensive to create it initially and in the future. Judging on how the Eosinophil (Hunter) +9 Stage 9 Evolution Mutation – otherwise known as his Hunter Crab – had cost a whopping 1,000,000 mana to initially create, it was likely going to cost most of his current maximum mana or more to create step 2 or 3 in the evolution. It was doable, of course, but there was no telling if even those would be large enough to take on a Skull all by itself. It was still something he would consider, but not before he tried a few other things.

As for designing a small, rapidly replicating immune cell similar to the Shadow Hunters that had been deployed against the Parasyte – ineffectually, he had to admit, but the idea was sound – there were some issues with that. First, all of his prior mutations had capitalized on each immune cell's purpose, whether fighting parasites, locating virus-filled cells, or detecting and eliminating cancerous cells. For this problem, with Skulls made from red blood cells, there weren’t any immune cells that were specifically designed to destroy one of the most vital components in the body; therefore, there weren’t really any immune cells that would ideally work as a base for a mutation that would be more effective than anything else.

Secondly, his other small, replicating mutations were generally for one-time use, as they were normally consumed in the process of killing their victims. The Viral Whips were an exception, but that could also be because they were a combination of a bacteria and a virus, and the whole point of them in the first place was that they could self-replicate. Designing one like that again could be detrimental to the body, though, because if they weren’t tightly regulated, they could grow in numbers quickly enough to become a health risk. Therefore, if he were to create another small one based on an immune cell, he would have to continually create them to help with the defense, something he didn’t want to have to do if he could help it.

But there was a third option, though it was still unknown whether it would work. It would hopefully provide exactly what he needed without excessive expense, and he could theoretically make it large enough to make for an adequate defense. In essence, he was going to create a multi-celled organism.

Now, the Hunter Crab was a multi-celled immune defender, created from large cells that were already put together to create its form. But what Progen had in mind was something a little different.

Chapter 30

The key to what he wanted to design had to do with the only immune cells he had kept unutilized up until then; now that he had something he wanted to do with them, he saw no reason to hesitate, even despite their cost. The Custom Myeloid and Lymphoid Progenitors were 3,000 mana each, though from what he intuitively understood, that was just the initial cost. After they were created, just like when he developed the other mutations, the final mana cost would have to do with what he actually produced.

If only he knew exactly what the difference was—

The Myeloid family of cells are ones that you are familiar with: Newts, Hunters, Reporters, and Cleaners. Spawners, Historians, Regulators, Commanders, and all 3 types of Killers are from the Lymphoid family of immune cells.

“Thanks, Stemmy.” From the tone of his assistant’s communication, it sounded as if he was beginning to understand what he was trying to accomplish.

With a better understanding of what he had to work with, there was only one thing that he needed to know from the cluster of interneuron cells. “How can I get cells to stick to each other?” Progen could see that, on a small enough level, there was something that kept everything together rather than drifting off in all sorts of directions, but hadn’t actually thought about how it worked.

There are two methods in which cells are kept together to form a larger structure, depending on what is needed. First are the cell-cell adhesions, which bind cells together through the use of protein filaments that connect the cells’ plasma membranes. This method presents a solid attachment, but can be a bit looser in terms of structure.

Based on where I deduce you are headed, the second method will likely suit you much better. It’s an extracellular matrix, created from macromolecules that form a framework for cells to work together. While you likely didn’t notice it on your giant Hunter Crab, this is what kept the cells from which it was created in a cohesive form.

“Ah…I see.” And he did, as everything started to make a lot more sense. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see a very thin covering that formed every tissue in the body, from nerves to muscle to the connective tissues that held everything together. The epithelial cells that made up the majority of the organs in the body were also held together by this thin matrix. They had much stronger and more tightly held bonds, which Progen identified as the cell-cell adhesions, though they were present in some way throughout all of the body.

Seeing the underlying reason cells functioned the way they did altered Progen’s perception. Everything was interconnected to form a tissue, and those tissues were connected together to form a larger organism—the body. When he used mana to help repair injuries, it was all done automatically, based on the body’s own underlying sense of what it should look like when it was healthy; in essence, he had never really paid attention to the process before, other than a means to an end. Now, though, it was enlightening to see how it worked, as the extracellular matrix played a critical role in dictating exactly what should go where, and how the cells should work together.

What was also enlightening was an evaluation of the Bloody Horned Skulls that had been attacking the blood in the body. When another group cropped up, he saw that even they were organized by a tight mesh of an extracellular matrix, held together by the magical effect that created them in the first place.

That observation, more than anything, was what gave Progen the last piece of the puzzle.

“I don’t need to destroy every single red blood cell that makes up these Skulls; I only need to destroy the matrix that binds them together.” Of course, finding a way to do that was something else entirely.

The reason for that was that none of his current immune cells were designed to attack and destroy extracellular matrices. They were designed to combat other cellular organisms, whether they were bacteria or cancerous cells, or virions that infected a cell, or even a parasite that was, in essence, a collection of cells. Nothing was built to target and tear apart matrices, though, but Progen had an idea of how to do that.

Using his Custom Myeloid Progenitor option, he spent 3,000 mana and watched it coalesce into a thick, glowing orb of power in front of his crystal…that just sat there. It took him a moment to realize that it was waiting on some sort of input from him, which he figured meant that he had to imagine what he wanted and the orb would transform into his desired wish. Now that he was in the middle of the process, however, he understood that there were limits to what he could create; size certainly was a factor, as well as a general assortment of attributes that were common among the different Myeloid types of immune cells.

They also still had to be cells, and they had to use materials already found naturally in the body – so no cells made from steel or anything like that. While some of those materials and minerals such as iron were found in the body, they came from external sources and weren’t something that the body actually produced on its own.

Other than that, the options were quite varied. He could combine the attributes of already existing immune cells, similar to the mutation process with which he’d already experimented, but there was no limit to what he could include in a single cell. So, he could produce a Mega Newt that also had the parasite-killing molecules of a Hunter, could process cell remains like a Cleaner, and even detect threats at extended range like a Reporter – all in the same cell. Such an immune cell would be extremely versatile, naturally, but it would also be rather expensive, as far as mana cost.

That wasn’t all, though; he could also alter the strength and volatility of the cells themselves. His mana could enhance the effectiveness of a Hunter’s parasite-killing molecules, speed up the consumption process of a Newt, or even make the antibodies that a Spawner released larger and deadlier versus bacteria. In fact, thinking about bacteria made Progen consider that the Blood Curse had done this exact thing with the mutated bacteria and virions the dungeon crystal had encountered in the body; though, instead of actually creating them, all it did was enhance the pathogens that were already there.

What Progen wanted to do was design something that would help cut through the matrix holding the Skulls together, rather than try to destroy all of the individual red blood cells that made up the bloodborne monsters. As he had noted before, none of the immune cells were suited for that, so he was going to have to make some major alterations, both in the shape and in the material makeup of a particular cell.

Reporters were relatively harmless cells, with soft and squishy appendages that spread out from their central forms. It was these appendages that allowed them to detect things at a further distance than the other cells, and they also helped to identify pathogens without having to get too up close and personal. For all of that, however, they weren’t really fighters – but Progen was going to change that in a big way.

First, he pictured all of the appendages, which previously extended out in all directions like a multi-pointed starfish, into a large singular appendage on one side of its cell. Then, shaping the appendage so that it looked more like a shark fin rather than a tentacle, he replaced the cellular wall that surrounded its inside with keratin.

Keratin, a fibrous protein produced naturally in the body, was what was used to create the body’s hair and nails. While he couldn’t produce a layered structure that was as strong as the claws and hooves found in animals, it could certainly be tapered in a way that produced a very fine-yet-strong edge; when the shark-fin-like appendage was converted to the tougher keratin, it produced a “blade” with an edge that was 1 strand of keratin thick. It took some mental condensing of the fibrous proteins to ensure they were stuck together without falling apart – and that it kept the shape he wanted – but in the end it seemed to work out.

Before he finished with his new creation, he changed the reporting “sense” of the Reporter so that it only identified extracellular matrices. His new creation would be practically useless as a normal immune cell because it would just sense everything; thankfully, it was just one part of a larger plan. Lastly, he mentally increased the size of the cell so that it was twice the size of a normal Reporter, making it slightly larger than a Newt.

As soon as he confirmed all of the changes in his mind, the glowing orb of energy started to rapidly flash, speeding up until there was a dramatic-looking but harmless explosion of light – and there was his new creation in its place! The Blade was awkward-looking, as the appendage stuck out on one side, making it extremely unbalanced. In fact, even when he added a levitation effect to the cell, it still had difficulty staying upright with its bladed appendage sticking straight up; the keratin proteins were apparently heavy enough that it continually caused the blade to point downwards.

By itself, the Blade cell would be rather ineffective if it couldn’t bring its weapon to bear on an attacker. Not only that, but with a few experiments in movement, he found that it was rather slow-moving even with levitation added to it; slamming it into a Skull at high speeds would be impossible – it would be more like a bump than anything.

Thankfully, none of that would matter when he was finished.

The next step, which he saw to as soon as his mana regenerated a little bit more, was to create something that would act as a “brain” of sorts to what was eventually going to be a multi-celled defender. Therefore, using his mana to create a Custom Lymphoid Progenitor, the dungeon crystal focused on the Commander immune cell. It was the perfect organizer for what he had in mind, though it was going to require some thorough reconfiguring to get it to work.

First, he needed it to be able to control multiple cells to perform a task. Its normal methods wouldn’t work in this case, because every movement of the multi-cellular organism had to be choreographed by the new creation. How to go about that without a network of nerves would be problematic—

Physical contact should be adequate for your needs.

Again, Stemmy came through with a solution to the problem. Thinking about it that way, the answer seemed simple enough: Flagella. While normally used with bacteria, the tentacle-like appendages could prove to be exactly what was needed to act as a nervous system of sorts for his ultimate creation. Adding flagella to the Commander was easy enough, but unlike most bacteria he’d seen, these 6 external appendages were long; they needed to be able to stretch and encompass every part of his new creation in order to control everything.

In addition to the flagella, he also added a bit of the Regulators’ ability to notice things out of the ordinary, with a particular emphasis on the abnormal use of red blood cells. It was his hope that this would allow his new creation to recognize the Bloody Horned Skulls without Progen having to point them out. Lastly, he added the ability to puncture cells with its flagella, courtesy of a Natural Killer immune cell; the ability to defend itself if it were to be separated from the rest of the multi-celled creation could prove to be invaluable.

There was another flash of light from the glowing orb that was the Custom Lymphoid Progenitor, and suddenly his new cell was there, looking like some sort of six-tentacled octopus with really long flagella – like a Hexapus. Now that he had those two new immune cell creations, he looked at how expensive they were in comparison to the others, and he was a bit disappointed.

Tier 4

NK Cells (Natural Killers) – 400 Mana

Custom Myeloid Progenitor – 3000 Mana

Custom Lymphoid Progenitor – 3000 Mana

Mutation 1 (Ankle-biter) – 50 Mana

Custom Myeloid 1 (Blade) – 100 Mana

Custom Lymphoid 1 (Hexapus) – 1000 Mana

His creations were a bit more expensive than he liked, but he figured it was still less expensive than trying to create a larger single-cell immune defender that would do the job. At least, he hoped so.

Next up was creating the framework for what he had in mind. It turned out that the process of developing an extracellular matrix was fairly simple and easy to accomplish. For some reason, as soon as Stemmy had pointed out how all of the cells stuck together, it was as though something had activated in his mind. Now that he could perceive them unlike ever before, assembling a matrix out of his mana seemed straightforward and normal, as if he should’ve been doing it all along. Wow; how much easier would things have been if I knew about this before? It was a question that was impossible to answer, but deep down he suspected that it probably wouldn’t have made much difference if that knowledge had been there from the start; he previously hadn’t been ready for it, but now that had changed.

Pulling tiny amounts of mana from his crystal, Progen manipulated the energy with his mind, expanding it into a massive, hollow sphere that was thin with near-transparency. As soon as it was approximately the size he wanted, which was just slightly bigger than most Bloody Horned Skulls he had encountered, he started to push and mold the sphere of mana into the shape he wanted. Pinching and smoothing out 6 long tentacles the thickness of a Newt, he made sure they were attached to a central sphere that was the size of his Hexapus plus an additional dozen Newts.

“Ok, I think I have it…there! Perfect, if I do say so myself.” He was proud of his design, so far, but it was time to finish it off.

You will need to place your cells inside and your mana will take care of the rest, Stemmy advised.

“Got it. Well, here we go….”

In the central sphere where the 6 long tentacles were attached, running up and down along the left and right sides, Progen created a Hexapus and surrounded it with a dozen Newts, costing 1,060 mana; he wanted to place something a little more sturdy, but figured the squishiness of the Newts would add at least a little cushion if something were to attack the Hexapus.

Then, down each tentacle, the dungeon crystal created 15 Newts for a total of 450 mana, lined up next to each other and extending out quite a distance from the central “core” of the organism. At the end of each Newt-made tentacle, Progen created a Blade cell, with the keratin-blade extended out from the matrix for 600 mana. In total, the entire organism cost 2,110 mana, which was quite inexpensive in terms of powerful immune cells; now he just hoped it worked.

Before he let his mana-created matrix solidify into existence, Progen made sure that all of the Hexapus’ flagella extended out from its protective Newt core along all 6 tentacles, touching each Newt and the Blades on the end. When everything seemed as prepared as it was going to get, he let the matrix coalesce around the cells he had created.

If he could cry, Progen would be tearing up in joy at the sight of his new creation. It was beautiful; the extracellular matrix seemed to shrink around the entire conglomeration of immune cells like a very thin skin, keeping each part together yet separated by a thin membrane. The keratin blades at the apex of each tentacle were secured by a sheathing around the cell itself, allowing the weapon the freedom of movement while keeping it intact on the organism. In addition, the flagella from the Hexapus appeared as if they had adhered to the cells they were touching, which hopefully meant that they were going to work as he had intended.

With a quick added levitation effect added to the Bladed Hexapus for another 10 mana, Progen was ready to try it out. Giving it an order to move, he watched as it sped out of the appendix where his crystal still rested, its tentacles drifting behind as it moved. “So far, so good.” With the entire Bladed Hexapus aiding in the movement, the Blades on the ends didn’t seem to slow it down.

Since they were near the intestines, Progen controlled the Hexapus as he had it attack some solid particles of food that were still being digested. A moment after it stopped, all 6 tentacles whipped forward, slicing through the solidified food with ease, the keratin-formed blades proving very effective in tearing chunks out of the target. Further practice saw it basically tear the partially digested food apart, leaving Progen thoroughly satisfied.

Of course, the real test was to see how it performed against the Bloody Horned Skulls.

Chapter 31

It took some maneuvering to get his new Bladed Hexapus into the bloodstream, as well as some repairs to the lining of the intestines and the vein he cut into, but it was a small price to pay. I must ensure that I make these things where I need them in the future. After that hassle, it was the work of a minute or two before the Hexapus arrived at the nearest site of a Skull invasion; the attacks had been almost constant over the last hour or so while he was working on his creation, so it was easy enough to find a place to try out his multi-celled defender.

Progen’s Newts were already on-site, a little over 25,000 of them still alive and swarming the 6-dozen Bloody Horned Skulls that had started to block a portion of the femoral artery in the right leg. His Newts were already doing tremendous damage by constantly consuming the red blood cells and platelets that formed the Skulls, though they were in turn being devastated by the wild viciousness of the magically constructed monsters. His forces would eventually win because of sheer numbers, but they would take a beating in the process.

Time to see what a little Bladed Hexapus could do.

Progen was relieved that his new creation hadn’t started attacking red blood cells as soon as it had entered the bloodstream; he had been half-worried that having the Hexapus-brain portion controlling everything with a focus on locating abnormal red blood cells would result in large-scale destruction. Fortunately, the Bladed creature he had designed hadn’t reacted at all – at least not until it arrived in the vicinity of the battle raging in the femoral artery.

Like a wolf catching a whiff of its prey in the breeze, the Bladed Hexapus halted its movement when it was approximately 20 of its lengths away. Progen had been lightly guiding it in the direction of the conflict, but had kept his touch deliberately light; as soon as the Hexapus froze in place in reaction to detecting the Skulls, he removed all aspects of his control in order to see what it would do.

Needless to say, he wasn’t disappointed. Within a few seconds of the initial detection, the Hexapus shot forward at great speed, coming to a stop just inside the range of its Bladed tentacles near a Skull that was busy chomping through a dozen Newts that were attacking a different skull. With more viciousness than actual skill, the tentacles whipped forward, and their weapons sheared through vast sections of the Skull’s extracellular matrices in the first second. Dozens of red blood cells were cut into and destroyed, and some few were even released to go drifting off, but the majority of the damage from the keratin blades was focused on the structure holding the Skull together.

“It works, Stemmy! That’ll show them not to come into my dungeon and mess with me,” he shouted in glee even as the Hexapus continued its assault. Tentacles were whipped back and forth, shredding half of the Skull before it could even register what was happening. A few seconds later, though, the invading monster registered the new threat and quickly turned around; an abrupt bite snatched one of the tentacles in its jaws and it bit down, severing 2 Newts and its Blade from the appendage.

The loss of one of its weapons, as well as a portion of the Hexapod’s flagellum, sent the Hexapod into a frenzy. Its remaining 5 tentacles now frantically attacked the front of the Skull, which was still trying to chew the tough keratin-based Blade with its compacted platelet teeth. When it started to get attacked again, the Skull shot forward in a charge; the Hexapus did what it could to slice it into ribbons, but a third of the construct still remained by the time it hit the front of the Hexapus.

The impact was rough, but the Newts that Progen had placed as a cushion did their job. A half-dozen of the basic immune cells protecting the core of his creature crumpled under the force, though they absorbed any damage that would’ve been done to the individual Hexapus cell inside.

As for the entire Bladed Hexapus, it was also flung backwards from the collision, ending up a few tentacle lengths away before it stopped and recovered. Thankfully, the Bloody Horned Skull seemed to need even more time to recover from the impact, so it had a delayed reaction to the renewed assault by the Hexapus. Progen’s multi-celled creature swooped back in and resumed its annihilation of the Skull, wildly swinging its tentacles in different directions, tearing apart the red blood cell construct with abandon.

If it hadn’t been for his swarm of Newts occupying the rest of the Skulls’ attention, things might have gone badly for the injured Bladed Hexapus; as it was, Progen was able to make it back off for a moment while he repaired the creature’s damaged or missing cells for a total of 140 mana. He had received approximately 800 mana from the death of the skull, so there was most assuredly a benefit to using the Hexapus compared to just Newts. Hundreds of Newts would’ve likely perished in the fight against the red blood cell construct, which would’ve cost between 1,000 to 2,000 mana to replace – so he was extremely happy about only having to contribute 140 mana to get his new creation back up to fighting shape.

Let off its leash once it was repaired, the Hexapus got right back into the fray, attacking the closest Horned monster. That proved to be a bit of a mistake, because Progen’s creation seemed to have no awareness on behalf of its fellow defenders; dozens of Newts that were attacking the same Skull were bisected by flailing tentacles before the dungeon crystal ordered them away. Regardless, the Hexapus was a deadly addition to his arsenal of defenders, as it destroyed the distracted construct in less than 10 seconds without taking damage.

It was then that Progen discovered that while the Bloody Horned Skulls weren’t being actively controlled by any greater power and seemed uncoordinated in their attacks, they could still react to the presence of a stronger threat within their midst.

By that time, there were a little over 4 dozen Bloody Horned Skulls present in the battle, though most of them were missing large chunks of themselves through attrition from the Newts. That didn’t seem to matter to them in the least, as they turned as one toward his Bladed Hexapus; the next moment, the Skulls left behind thousands of Newts as they shot ahead with magically enhanced movement, aiming for Progen’s creation. Before the dungeon crystal could do anything, a dozen of them slammed into its core of cells and its tentacles, causing many of them to burst while tossing it around like a tiny boat caught in a storm.

By some miracle, the Hexapus controlling everything wasn’t damaged, so it tried to direct its half-destroyed tentacles toward the approaching enemy. Even amid its flailing, a half-dozen more deep cuts were achieved on the closest Skull, nearly killing it in the process, before it succumbed to the teeth of 4 others that literally tore his Bladed Hexapus apart.

“Well, so much for that,” he complained.

Your creation performed remarkably well, when all things are considered.

Progen had to admit that Stemmy was right. His creation, as horrible as it was to have it ripped apart by the Skulls, showed that it could take on one of the red blood cell constructs and survive, even if it required some repairs afterwards. As he had noted before, it was a sustainable asset that could be used in defense of the bloodstream, especially when compared to the Newts that were destroyed in droves, but got the job done, nonetheless.

“Besides, they aren’t meant for such large-scale battles,” he reminded both himself and his assistant. “They are supposed to be used in the defensive areas that I’m planning on creating through the different blood vessels, as a way to support the traps I’ll have set up.”

Feeling a little better about the destruction of his first multi-cellular organism that he had specifically designed, especially after he saw that the Hexapus’ destruction actually helped to distract the Skulls from the other threat now swarming them unopposed for the first few seconds after its death, Progen backed away from the battle so that he could plan out where to put what. Before he did that, though, he briefly considered whether he should try to make his new creation a little bit bigger; in the end, he decided against it because he had found that with an increase in size came a much larger increase in cost. As it was, a little over 2,000 mana for a Bladed Hexapus wasn’t that bad.

Still, when he was considering it he ended up opening up his immune cell options and was greeted with a surprise underneath Tier 5:

Tier 5

Helper T Cells (Commanders) – 800 Mana

Arcanaphils – 1000 Mana

(Potential Mutation)

Tier 6 (Multi-cellular)

Bladed Hexapus – 2110 Mana

“I can create these now? Without having to go through the entire process again?” he asked in delight.

Affirmative. Now that you know how it is constructed, you can just automatically create it with the correct application of mana.

The unexpected boon would help significantly with his plans, because he had expected to have to assemble his new creation every single time. Now he could start placing traps and then placing the new defenders without having to go through the entire process over and over.

To that end, Progen started to identify the places where he wanted his defensive areas. He wanted them to be easy to lure Skulls back to, places along the circulatory system that were easy to defend. “Pinch points” was the word that came to mind, but that was easier said than found; the entire system was a circuit and was meant to flow freely, so identifying places where bottlenecks could be found was a bit difficult.

I would consider the larger arteries and veins in the body to be too large to adequately defend. The same goes for the many miles of capillaries throughout the body, though for the opposite reason of being too small. There has yet to be any of their threatening presence within the smaller vessels, likely because the Bloody Horned Skulls are too large to fit; the same limitation would be for your Bladed Hexapus creation. In addition, there have yet to be any Skulls manifesting in the veins; it seems as though they prefer the oxygen-rich red blood cells in the arteries.

Progen couldn’t fault that logic, which was beneficial because that actually eliminated quite a lot of space that he didn’t need to specifically defend. The point of his defenses was to bring the Skulls to them, after all, and not necessarily the other way around. Therefore, looking at it that way, the solution was clear and made the situation a bit easier. In total, he would only need 5 defensive areas, located at the 2 palmar arches in the hands, 2 in the smaller arcuate arteries in each foot, and 1 very large installation in the heart.

While it was much bigger than the others and therefore harder to defend, the heart was the only organ to which Progen had access that he couldn’t allow to fall to the depredations of the Horned monsters. Blood vessels could be partially blocked before he could clear them, but the heart was the…well, heart of the entire operation. If that became even partially blocked (which would take a major infestation of Skulls), that could spell disaster.

Considering that red blood cells, as well as most of his other cells, only took approximately a minute to travel all the way through the entire body, each defensive point was well within range of just about anything that might arise. While it didn’t seem as though the Skulls moved quite that quickly, all of his potential defensive areas would still be more than adequate…he hoped.

Without hesitation, he started on his first area in the palmar arch in the right hand; he was planning on leaving the heart for last, as it would take the longest and require the most in the way of traps and defenders to complete. He chose a spot that was near where the vessel narrowed to form the capillaries that allowed for the transfer of oxygen between the red blood cells and the tissue cells that needed that oxygen, but were still large enough in vessel size to hold a decent amount of traps and defenders. Not only that, but it wasn’t too narrow for the Bloody Horned Skulls to travel down in large groups; the last thing he wanted was to force them to tear up the vessels with their horns if they got too close to the walls.

Placing traps in the area would also benefit from their distance from any vital organs, because some of them were a bit volatile. Thankfully, any pain receptors that might arise from the use of the traps Stemmy could block from reaching the brain, so it wouldn’t negatively affect Marstin. At least, theoretically; there was always the possibility that he would feel some numbness while the traps were being activated and the pain suppressed.

Trap Options Available

Available Mana: 5435/10000

Tier 1

Fibrin Net – 5 Mana

Reactive Flush – 5 Mana

Strangling Villi – 10 Mana

Tier 2

Pepsin Acid Pit – 50 Mana

Suspension – 75 Mana

Localized Compression – 100 Mana

Tier 3

Shocking Discharge – 150 Mana

Concentrated Burn – 250 Mana

Wall Constriction – 350 Mana

Tier 4

Hormonal Misdirection – 2000 Mana

Mineral Barrage – 3000 Mana

Parasitic Infestation – 5000 Mana

There were some traps that wouldn’t be pertinent to use, however, no matter if Progen’s assistant blocked the pain or not. The Shocking Discharge, for one, was one that he wanted to avoid; shocks to the bloodstream could travel through the entire circulatory system, even weak ones, and could potentially disrupt the rhythm created by the heart beating.

Second, the Wall Constriction trap, which had been utilized quite effectively along with Pepsin Acid Pits against the massive Parasyte, wouldn’t work out as well for one reason: Horns. The horns on the Skulls were created from condensed platelets until they were both relatively “sharp” and resilient; not as sharp as her keratin-formed Blades, but they would be apt to tear up the blood vessel lining if they were forced into it, which would defeat the purpose of stationary defenses in the long run.

Lastly, the Reactive Flush trap, as innocuous as it seemed, could be catastrophic to the system. The blood flowed one way through the circulatory system for a reason; using more than the smallest Flush could potentially cause distress to normal operations.

Of course, Progen only learned all of that when he was starting to decide what to use, and Stemmy made sure to chime in and give his evaluation of his options.

Every other trap should be fine to use, though common sense would make sure that you use them in moderation. You wouldn’t want a Concentrated Burn trap large enough to wipe out a group of Skulls in one activation, while also destroying the entire blood vessel in the process.

“Common sense, huh? Let’s just see if I have any of that,” he joked.

Progen had almost forgotten that he had unlocked Tier 4 of his traps when he had gained more influence over his host’s body. He had barely even looked at them, in fact, mainly because at the time they weren’t really important to the running of his dungeon. Not to mention that they were expensive in comparison to his other traps at 2,000, 3,000, and 5,000 mana each. Now that he could take time to peruse them, as well as having an actual need for new traps, the dungeon crystal felt it would be prudent to utilize whatever was in his arsenal.

The Hormonal Misdirection trap relies on hormones that target a particular type of enemy, releasing a cloud of the uniquely made hormones that can extend to encompass a wide area. When encountering these hormones, said enemy will be confused about what they are targeting and may end up attacking allies in the misdirection. Hormone release lasts for 2 minutes and will recharge after 30 minutes.

The Mineral Barrage trap condenses mineral molecules into a punishing barrage of microslivers, shredding anything in its path. Mineral-based microslivers will be reabsorbed into the body after a set amount of time, and distance plays a role in the speed in which it travels, with closer enemies receiving a faster barrage than those farther away. The Barrage lasts for 15 seconds of constant use, and it recharges after 25 minutes.

Lastly, the Parasitic Infestation is a unique trap that combines the virus-like replication of virions with the sturdy construction of a parasitic entity. This time-released trap infects enemies passing within its range with tiny parasitic entities for a total of 10 seconds; over time, these entities will consume the victims from the inside, converting cells into replication factories as it feeds upon their life force. As soon as the parasitic entities are finished with their task, they will then consume themselves. Infestations do not provide any mana from the death of their host, and the trap is one-time-use before needing to be replaced.

“Thanks, Stemmy.”

Armed with that information, it was time to have a little fun.

Chapter 32

As powerful as the Parasitic Infestation trap seemed, it was a single-use trap that cost 5,000 mana! Some of his other traps, such as the Concentrated Burn, were single-use, but were much less expensive; granted, the Infestation seemed as if it was guaranteed kill and would’ve been perfect against the Parasyte, but against wave after wave of Bloody Horned Skulls, the use of the trap would be a waste.

What that ultimately meant was that if he wanted a sustainable defense that he wouldn’t have to replace every few minutes, he would need traps that recharged after use and were perpetually in place. Fibrin Nets, as useful as they could be in many situations, could prove to be detrimental to the structure of the blood vessels; he still remembered how the Parasyte had literally ripped apart the small intestine as it rammed through multiple Nets that Progen had placed in the way. The Bloody Horned Skulls, while smaller, seemed to be capable of just such a feat if they were pressed into the Nets.

What that left, after eliminating the one-time-use traps and those that would likely be harmful to the blood vessel, were ones that were still quite versatile:

·    Strangling Villi

·    Pepsin Acid Pit

·    Suspension

·    Localized Compression

·    Hormonal Misdirection

·    Mineral Barrage

When Progen considered what he had to work with, the solution to his defense suddenly coalesced in his mind.

First, the dungeon crystal replaced a large section of the artery’s wall with a Pepsin Acid Pit, the acid inside contained within the trap itself. It was large enough to fit at least 2 average-sized Bloody Horned Skulls inside, or a single larger-than-average Skull; either way, the acid was strong enough to dissolve his enemies within moments. He was briefly worried about normal red blood cells falling within the pit as they passed by, and rightly so; every minute or so, a few dozen or so of the cells and platelets were bumped inside, obliterating them near-instantly. However, the speed at which the blood moved through the vessel was such that the destruction was fairly minimal – and an acceptable price to pay for having the trap there in the first place. A few dozen cells dying was miniscule in comparison to the trillions of them that existed in the bloodstream, after all.

As for getting one of the Skulls to fall inside the Pit, that was where the Strangling Villi came into play. While normally used to wrangle single-celled bacteria, Progen found that he could spend a bit more mana to increase both the number and size of the villi that were contained in the trap. Wrapping the Skulls up and squeezing them apart wasn’t their goal, and wouldn’t work anyway, especially since there was an extracellular matrix supporting the monster; instead, they would be exclusively used to drag unsuspecting Skulls into the Pit that the Villi surrounded on each side.

The Strangling Villi would end up being damaged by the acid when they were forcing a Skull or two inside, but they would regenerate over time. If he set up everything right, by the time another group of Skulls was set to attack the defenses, they would be back into fighting shape.

He placed a dozen of these Villi and Pit traps – costing 450 mana each – all along the artery leading to his other defenses for a total of 5,400 mana, an expensive investment. For all that, they weren’t even designed to eliminate all of the Skulls by themselves, but to thin out their numbers. By the time the monsters passed them by, losing a few of their number, they would be softened up for the next stage in the plan.

The next section of defenses utilized two different traps working in tandem, similar to the Villi and Acid Pits. First, along the sides of the blood vessel, Progen set up Suspension traps that ringed the entire artery. They had to be created large enough to hold and contain large-sized Skulls, which used up a bit of mana in the process; all told, it required 1,500 mana to create them large enough to be effective. Once that was done, the dungeon crystal created another, smaller ring of Suspension traps for 1,000 mana just after the initial ring so that they were practically touching. Then he did it again and again, for 750 and then 500 mana, creating progressively smaller rings.

The point of the Suspension traps wasn’t to hold them there for something to attack them, however. What they were designed to do was capture and hold at least half of their number in order to create a funnel of sorts; when they were caught and suspended in place, they would create a barrier that wouldn’t allow any other Skulls through without going through the center.

Through that center was where the free-to-move Bloody Horned Skulls would meet their fate. Progen set up 2 Mineral Barrages at the end of the funnel, which would use their crossfire to obliterate whatever was passing through. It would be especially effective since their area of greatest effect was quite short normally, and upping the distance that they could do significant damage required a lot more mana. As it was, spending nearly 10,000 mana on this section was already pushing the budget.

Once the rest were freed from the suspension traps, they would journey into the last section – where the rest would be (hopefully) wiped out. First, Progen placed 50 Localized Compression traps, spaced apart approximately a Skull’s length, creating a “wall” of invisible traps that the monsters would have to pass through. Each Localized Compression trap was its basic size for 100 mana, which was relatively small compared to the size of the Skulls, but making them much bigger was prohibitively expensive. They wouldn’t kill a Skull, obviously, but the sudden compression of parts of their forms would squish and damage sections of them for the fight to come.

Finally, as they passed through the wall of Compression traps, whatever remaining Skulls would encounter a seemingly empty space in the vessel, but would actually contain a large Hormonal Misdirection trap costing a whopping 7,000 mana. The hormones released would affect the Skulls, either confusing them so that they were delayed in their purpose, or hopefully starting to attack each other. Regardless of the outcome, 5 Bladed Hexapus creatures were there to join in the confusion, taking advantage of their altered states to inflict swift, significant damage as quickly as possible. With the Skulls being damaged by the previous Compression traps, it should be much easier for the Hexapus squad to take them out.

If all of that didn’t do the job, then the 5,000 Newts Progen had stationed at the very back of the defenses would help to finish off any stragglers. If everything worked as well as he desired, though, they wouldn’t even be necessary.

Nearly 33,000 mana and 5 hours later, his first defensive area was complete. Progen was forced to let a large portion of his Newts go unreplaced after a number of assaults on the groups of Skulls that continued to pop up randomly in order to afford to create all of the traps, but he thought it was worth it. The attrition to his forces was taking its toll, however; of the hundreds of thousands of Newts he originally had in his immune cell army, he was down to less than 30,000.

His scouting groups were untouched – other than the ones that had fallen in the first skirmish with the Skulls, at least – and he would prefer to keep them that way. As it was, he had already been forced to leave most of the work defending the respiratory system to the body’s immune system, other than what got caught in the traps located throughout. Any defense against major infections could be bolstered by his scouting groups, but for the most part the body was on its own.

Progen had more pressing matters, as it were.

“Shall we see what this thing can do?” he asked Stemmy, nervous and excited at the same time. He was really hoping that it worked, because he was running out of time and resources to find a viable, ongoing solution.

Definitely. In fact, there is another communication I just intercepted reporting a small blockage of the brachial artery upstream from your new defenses.

“Perfect.” Looking at where Stemmy described, he could see that his assistant had been correct. Just over 60 of the Bloody Horned Skulls were already causing havoc in the blood flowing through the artery, as the monsters were arrayed to create a barrier where they were eagerly chomping down on the incoming red blood vessels.

Normally, he would’ve sent tens of thousands of Newts to destroy them; but this time, he only sent a single cell. It wasn’t an immune cell, however, but one that was harmless: a Stem cell. As he created and wrapped it in a levitation effect, he instructed it to drift close enough to bump into the back of a Skull before backing off.

The effect was instantaneous upon that first touch as the Bloody Horned Skull – hundreds of times larger than the Stem cell – whipped around. Some sort of communication must have been passed along to the others, as they also turned toward the lonely Stem cell, their eyeless sockets staring at Progen’s cell like it was a piece of juicy meat. There was a brief moment when everything was at peace, but that only lasted long enough for the initial Skull to charge ahead with the intention of eating the Stem cell.

The dungeon crystal had anticipated that, though, and the tiny cell took off the way it had come at high speed. As Progen had hoped, all of the Skulls chased after the Stem cell like hounds running down a rabbit; this rabbit, unfortunately for them, was much faster and had some help waiting for it.

In less than a minute, the Stem cell had shot past the Acid Pits, its small cell not triggering the traps; it took Progen a little time to figure out that he could have his traps activate in the presence of an extracellular matrix, instead of just single cells. This prevented them from triggering whenever the red blood cells passed through them just as his Stem cell was ignored. It would be difficult to avoid them triggering on his Bladed Hexapus creatures, but that was something he would have to deal with if it was ever necessary to move them around.

As the first Skull triggered the first trap, Progen figuratively held his breath as he waited to see if it was a success…and he was relieved when large villi extended out from the wall. Two dozen of the strong appendages wrapped around the Bloody Horned Skull in the lead; before it could react to this new threat, the villi contracted and pulled the monster down into the Pepsin Acid Pit below.

As the monster touched the acidic liquid inside, its minor struggling suddenly became frantic, but the Villi trap was too strong for it. Despite biting through a half a dozen of the Villi, Progen’s trap held on long enough to completely submerge the Skull in the Pit, though it ended up losing its appendages to the Acid as well.

He was momentarily worried when the last of the Villi disintegrated and the Skull lifted itself out of the Pit, only 20% of its former size and still dripping with Acid. That worry was short-lived as the acidic substance continued to eat away at the Skull even as it attempted to rejoin its fellow monsters. In a few seconds, it fell apart into the remnants of platelets and red blood cells, giving Progen a bump of little less than 800 mana from its destruction.

The best part: It didn’t cost him any more mana that he’d already spent. The Villi would regenerate, and the Acid Pit would remain in place until a time came that Progen wanted to move it.

Unfazed by the death of one of their own and still chasing after the Stem cell, another 11 Horned monsters from the original 62 that had arrived at the defenses were snatched and submerged in Acid. All but one of them were destroyed; the second to last Skull to get pulled down into the Pit managed to bite through enough Villi in time to only be partially submerged. Even though it survived, its lower jaw and half of its greater structure was missing, making it less of a threat.

But that still left 50 of the red blood cell-created monsters. In a wave they hit the next section, with a little over 20 of them getting stuck in the Suspension traps; were it not so serious, Progen would’ve laughed at how frantically the Skulls seemed to struggle ineffectually, opening and closing their jaws reflexively – looking like they were trying to scream in frustration. He kept his amusement to himself, though, as he watched to see if his idea would work.

It did…mostly. One small gap was evident in the right side of the artery, where two different traps were activated when Skulls entered them on opposite sides. With the traps activated with what was already in there, it allowed a handful of Bloody Horned Skulls to squeeze through, bypassing the funneling operation Progen had set up. I’m going to have to tighten those up a little, it looks like.

Regardless of what he needed to do in the future to fix the potential for more gaps, the rest of the free-moving, blood-created monsters were directed towards the center of the artery – where the 2 Mineral Barrages were waiting for them. As soon as they were within a Skull’s length away, the traps activated to devastating effect.

The first time seeing them in action was more impressive than he expected. Small slivers of what appeared to be some sort of stone-like material shot out of the traps’ locations; whereas he expected a single stream, it was more like a cone of destruction that shot ahead, shredding through cells, matrices, and even condensed platelets with ease. The microslivers didn’t just stop with puncturing one red blood cell, though; instead, if they weren’t interrupted by the slightly more resistant extracellular matrices, they shot through nearly the entire Skull and erupted out the back side with enough speed to impale another Skull.

Thousands of microslivers literally shredded whatever was in front of them, killing 5 of the Skulls in the first 2 seconds before starting in with the rest. For their part, the monsters made from blood were too ignorant of their own demise to hesitate in pushing their comrades out of the way in order to meet their death. If he didn’t know any better, Progen could’ve sworn that the Skulls were eager to journey into the rain of microslivers.

“Looks like I might need to add a third or fourth Barrage,” he noted, after only 17 of the 25 that had been funneled into the center were destroyed before the traps stopped working.

Staggering them might be a solution, as well.

Progen looked at the setup from Stemmy’s suggestion and tried to picture it. “Hmm….If I have those 2 up front take care of the majority of the Skulls, then a third placed another few lengths behind could pick up the stragglers when the first 2 run out. That might just work. Thanks, Stemmy.”

Further contemplation was put off because there were 33 Skulls still active and heading for his Compression wall. Other than the ones that were still clumped up together in the center that the Barrages hadn’t been able to destroy, the rest of the Horned monsters were greatly spread out, still vaguely in their positions that they had been forced into by the Suspension traps. Exactly what he had been hoping for, in fact.

The Localized Compression traps worked exactly as he had hoped. With inaudible *pops* of the plasma running through the blood vessel, large sections of the Skulls were compressed together so rapidly that it violently arrested the progress of the monsters in their charge after the Stem cell that was taunting them with its presence just ahead. The stoppage was so rough that not only did it squish and destroy dozens of the red blood cells that comprised each Skull, but it also stretched and tore portions of the outer extracellular matrix that held them all together.

The extra, unexpected damage didn’t kill any of the Skulls, but their matrices were certainly loosened enough in areas that they figuratively started to “bleed out” red blood cells. Strangely enough, as soon as the cells were freed from the matrix, they seemed as normal as any other cells. It was this fact that led Progen to believe that it wasn’t necessarily the cells that had been corrupted and formed into serving as a medium for the Bloody Horned Skulls, but the matrix was instead the core of what made them monsters.

A half-dozen Skulls that had made it through the center arrived in the final battleground unscathed, but the rest of the unnatural monsters were torn up and slowly leaking red blood cells. None of that mattered, though, as they all descended on the small cluster of Stem cells he had positioned in the center of the artery as a “prize”. As soon as they passed a certain point, though, an explosion of hormones erupted from behind the Stem cells, spreading rapidly throughout the entire section of the blood vessel.

The change that overcame the Bloody Horned Skulls when they were impacted by the hormones was immediate and varied. Some of them stopped abruptly in place, completely unmoving; others turned in a random direction and charged ahead, with some of them slamming ineffectually into a vessel wall; and still others immediately turned on their comrades and started attacking them, chasing them down and biting them with unbridled rage. There were 2 Skulls, though, that seemed largely unaffected as they continued their single-minded purpose of eating Stem cells.

Before they could feast on the unprotected hoard of delicious cells, they were intercepted by the 5 Bladed Hexapus creatures Progen had ready and waiting. A whirlwind of blades shot out and sliced up the Skulls, who seemed to not even see the enemy in their midst, and they were destroyed without even fighting back.

Unfortunately, the dungeon crystal’s defenders did not swim away unscathed. The frantic slicing and dicing of the Skulls resulted in the severing of 2 different tentacles as Blades were thrown every which way in the abrupt melee. “I’m instructing them to tackle each Skull with no more than 2 of them at a time from now on,” he mumbled to Stemmy, giving his creations instructions at the same time. It was when there were 3 Hexapus creatures on a single red blood-celled monster that the accident had occurred.

After the “oops” moment with his defending crew of Hexapus creatures, they performed most admirably in destroying another 26 of the injured and bleeding Skulls. The only trouble came when the Hormone trap finally ran out, leaving the 5 Hexapus defenders up against an equal number of relatively undamaged monsters. One-on-one, without surprise on their side, Progen’s creations were at a slight disadvantage in a straight-up fight, if only because of the size difference and insane tenacity that the Skulls presented.

Therefore, even as the two groups engaged each other, biting and slashing, ramming and attempting to dodge, Progen cheated and brought his reserve of Newts up from behind the action. The resulting slaughter of the remaining Skulls was too late for 2 of his Hexapus creatures, but he at least managed to save three of them, though they would need some repairs to bring them back to normal.

“I think that worked pretty well, don’t you?” Progen asked his assistant when everything was over.

Affirmative.

“It’ll just take a few tweaks to get everything working a little more smoothly, and eventually I won’t have to rely on the reserves. Perhaps if I add another 3 or 4 Hexapi, that will help finish off whatever is left over.”

Agreed. Congratulations on your success. Where to next?

“Thanks,” he absently acknowledged, his mind already somewhere else. “I’ve already started in the next area, actually; I gained a little more than 40,000 mana from the deaths of so many Skulls, and I’ve used most of it on creating another defensive position in the arcuate artery in the left foot. Even with adding another Mineral Barrage here, altering the Suspension traps so there are fewer chances of there being gaps, and replacing the 2 Hexapus defenders and Newts that were destroyed in the last battle, I will have nearly enough to complete a whole other trap-filled area. When I accumulate even more mana, I will probably add some more Hexapus creatures here; but for now, this should theoretically work.”

Progen couldn’t help but hum a little tune while he worked, the pleasure of his plan succeeding lifting his morale like nothing else could. He was well aware that he wasn’t out of danger quite yet, but progress had been made. Once he had all of his defensive positions fully trapped and occupied with defenders, he could rebuild his immune forces and then focus on a solution to the whole Bloody Horned Skull problem when he had the luxury to think rather than just react.

Yes, indeed – things were looking up!

Chapter 33

The success of his first defensive position extended to the next three, though the traps he laid in the heart were untested at that point. They were more extensive, for one, because he had more area to cover; secondly, he didn’t want to use them up while there was a possibility that there might be a direct attack in the location. Even a few days after the random attacks started, there still hadn’t been any attempts to disrupt the vital organ, which Progen thought strange. He even did an exhaustive search throughout each chamber and the adjoining arteries and veins to confirm that there weren’t any hidden groups growing and becoming more powerful without triggering a blockage of any type.

Altogether, the only real obstacle he ran into was when the Skulls would appear in the bone marrow, where Stem cells were plentiful and they couldn’t be lured away by his “bait”. When that happened, he was forced to sacrifice a Bladed Hexapus; when it attacked, its threat level somehow overrode the incessant feeding they were doing on the local Stem cell population. It had to be sacrificed because it would trigger one of the traps built into the defensive positions, though before that happened he usually stopped it and made it fight back, doing a little bit of damage before it was overrun. By that point, the Bloody Horned Skulls were far enough from the marrow that a Stem cell appearing as a snack was enough to get them to continue moving into his traps.

Progen was just thankful that the red blood cell-constructed monsters never seemed to learn or have any type of memory. Once everything was up and running, it was easy enough to lure them inside each trap-laden point, where they would succumb to the defenses he had placed. A couple of times there had been a bit larger of a group than normal, or larger Skulls that had resisted detection for longer, and it required the reserves he had placed in each position; otherwise, things ran in quite an orderly fashion without any surprises – for which the dungeon crystal was thankful.

Even his Newt army had been rebuilt in its entirety, 300,000 strong. The few scouting groups that had been lost had been replaced and even expanded upon, with an additional handful of groups bringing their total up to 150 roaming through nearly every part of the body. The repairs to the body, which had been delayed at the beginning because of the Bloody Horned Skull threat, had been fully completed, and Progen was back to enhancing whatever he could with the mana at his disposal.

He was suddenly flush with mana, as he was gaining approximately 40,000 every time a Skull group was defeated. Some of that was used to repair or replace any of the Hexapus creatures that got damaged, but even that was becoming less and less common as he continued to add more of the defenders to each location. Each position now boasted 20 of the multi-celled organisms, which was more than enough to handle just about any situation.

In short, with everything seemingly stable, he now had the luxury of looking into a solution to the Skull problem. Except that, as much as it had been a problem before, it was turning out to be a boon, instead.

From what I can determine, they won’t stop appearing unless the host is dead or something is done to expel the magical energy infusing the circulatory system.

“That might be true, but…do we really need to get rid of them? I mean, now that they are under control, they are providing me with so much mana that it feels like a shame to lose that,” he remarked. On the one hand, allowing invaders in his dungeon to continue invading felt wrong; on the other, he couldn’t deny that things were better off now than they had been a few days ago before everything seemed to go wrong at once. There was a good chance that he never would’ve discovered the secret to creating multi-celled organisms if it hadn’t been for the threat he had needed to defend against, after all. The never-ending mana production factory was just an extra added benefit.

I can see the logic in your argument, but you are forgetting something important.

Progen was confused. “And what would that be?”

The only reason that these constructed Bloody Horned Skulls are not much of a threat anymore is because there is no driving force behind them. They are a collection of randomly generated monsters that attack on instinct with no intelligence behind them.

“…Yes, and…what?”

What would happen if the Blood Curse decided to drop its barrier and take matters into its own figurative hands? How harmless do you think these Skulls would be with a motive and a plan backing them up?

Progen wanted to dismiss Stemmy’s concerns immediately, because the Curse hadn’t shown any inclination of peeking out from behind the barrier around the brain. However, the dungeon crystal also had to admit that there was a possibility that his assistant’s evaluation of the situation was correct. He still didn’t think that it was a likely scenario, but the risk of it happening made Progen consider the problem objectively.

“You have a point,” he conceded. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I want to get rid of this magical force running through the circulatory system and consequently eliminate the threat of the Bloody Horned Skulls. Do you have any idea how to do that?”

Negative. The self-sustaining magical effect is meant to destroy the host from the inside; it is only your presence here that has prevented it from succeeding. It seems as though it is somehow tied to your influence over the circulatory system from a lack of another focus, so extricating it from your presence would be nigh impossible. Unless you can somehow cleanse the entire body of all magical energy, then eliminating the threat is unlikely.

At least there was a solution. “How do I cleanse Marstin of all magical energy?”

That is unknown. Even if you can figure it out, your dungeon crystal would likely be included in that magical energy.

“So you’re saying if I destroy myself and everything I’ve built here, then the blood would stop producing these Skulls? That doesn’t seem like a solution.”

Affirmative. However, there may be another way.

That piqued his interest. “And what is that?”

It might be possible to eliminate the magical effect if it were somehow linked to the focus of another entity. If it were separated from the host, at least marginally, then there exists a potential to destroy it completely.

It took Progen a few moments to understand what Stemmy was getting at. “Wait; are you saying that if the Blood Curse took control of this effect, as you were warning me of just a minute ago, that I might be able to destroy both?” If that was what the cluster of interneuron cells meant, then it would be like handing over a powerful weapon to the homicidal entity bent on Marstin’s destruction.

Affirmative.

“That seems counterproductive, Stemmy.” And a recipe for disaster.

Affirmative.

The conversation wasn’t going anywhere, so Progen chose to ignore the potential for future threats while he continued to improve on what defenses he already had in place. Adding additional immune cell groups throughout the body wouldn’t hurt, either, so he spent most of his incoming mana on that – especially since there wasn’t much else he could do in terms of enhancing the body itself. Marstin’s diet had been relatively limited over the last few days, so acquiring the proper materials for naturally enhancing the senses had been delayed for a bit.

But that seemed like it could end soon.

The journey that our host has been on is nearing its conclusion. It is unknown what this culmination of travel will present.

That was just Stemmy’s fancy way of saying that Marstin was finally stopping and neither Progen’s assistant nor their host knew what was going to happen. All that Progen cared about was that they were away from the city that made Progen uncomfortable with how many corrupted dungeon crystals seemed to be around.

Nothing much happened over the next day, though there was a point during the night that Marstin started suffering from what Stemmy termed “frostbite”.

The extremely cold temperatures during the night have caused the skin and underlying tissue in our host’s right fingers to freeze the fluid inside. Low blood flow to those particular areas will reduce the delivery of oxygen from reaching the cells, which will end up with the tissue dying prematurely.

Progen had already seen that the blood flowing through the right palmar arch was beginning to slow, even as other vessels in the body – including near the vital organs – had begun to speed up. Stemmy explained that was to extend warmth to those parts of the body that were needed for survival, which meant that the fingers were being sacrificed to maintain the health of the rest of the body.

At least, they would normally be sacrificed in any other Human body, but Progen wasn’t going to let the frostbite lessen the effectiveness of his host by letting his extremities die. First, he spent almost 4,000 mana to repair what was already damaged and dead, replacing the cells that had died with fresh, new ones. Once that was done, instead of waiting around to fix them again when they succumbed to the cold, Progen looked for another solution.

“Is there a way to convert my mana into perpetual heat?” he asked Stemmy, uncertain. “I’ve never tried to do that before.”

You can, but the draw on your mana would be constant and restrictive. Why don’t you just alter your Concentrated Burn trap?

“Uh…because I don’t want to destroy all of the cells that I just healed?” That seemed pretty obvious. “Plus, creating one big enough would cost so much mana that I couldn’t afford it.”

There was silence coming from his assistant for a moment; it went on long enough that Progen started to think that he had said something that was going to make him seem like an idiot.

Unfortunately, he was right.

You do know that you can alter your traps in the opposite direction, right? You’ve already strengthened them while making them larger, which certainly costs more mana; doing the opposite by making them weaker will make them cost…? Stemmy prompted.

He couldn’t believe he had been so narrow-minded. “It will make them cost less. Much less, depending on how powerful they were to begin with and the desired result. Which also means that I can do the same with some of my other traps—I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!” he exclaimed in disgust with himself.

Thoughts of how he could apply that careened through his mind. Suspension traps that are weaker could cause slowing, instead of just plain stoppage. Weaker Fibrin Nets could be torn off of the walls they are attached to, enveloping and entangling whatever runs into them. Compression traps could be made larger, while having just enough compression to do the job for the same amount of mana; sometimes the compression is too powerful for the job for which they are being used. Even Shocking Discharge traps could be reduced in intensity, to not travel as far outside of the general area, while still being effective against smaller pathogens.

All of that didn’t even consider how some of his traps could be used on the outside of the body, similar to how he had shocked the rat that had come close to eating Marstin alive.

Regardless, it was an exciting revelation, and one that he implemented immediately. Progen could see that the fingertips that he had just healed from frostbite were already being damaged from the cold temperatures, so he began experimenting with his Concentrated Burn trap. He began slowly, creating a small circle of the trap above the surface of the skin, flattening it out so that it would act more as a barrier in keeping out the cold than anything else.

It also took a deliberate alteration of not only the strength of the trap on Progen’s part, which would otherwise char through Marstin’s skin; however, instead of just reducing the super-heated elemental flame’s temperature, he also extended the time period in which the trap was expended. It wouldn’t be beneficial for a brief flash of warmth, so he needed something that would last for a longer length of time.

Now that he was working with the trap, he realized how easy it was to manipulate it to the exact configuration of attributes that he wanted. Shape, heat, duration – they were all bent to his will. It was his dungeon crystal doing all of the trap creation, after all, so it only made sense; the options he had were just a guide, a starting point, as it were. He couldn’t fathom how to create a trap that wasn’t related to what he had already unlocked, but what he could do with what he had access to was becoming more impressive as he broke through his previously self-imposed limitations.

In fact, he thought there might even be a way to combine traps together to create something entirely new.

But he didn’t have time for that kind of experimentation at the moment, because he needed to save some fingers. After checking to see if his altered Concentrated Burn trap was working – which it was, providing heat that warmed up the already-frozen fingers over a period of 30 minutes – he was amazed that it only required 5 mana for that small patch, which was 245 less than a normal Burn trap! Seeing that success, he extended and shaped another trap with similar characteristics, not only over the rest of the hand, but over most of the body as well, only avoiding the facial openings. Some of the toes in the left foot had also been starting to show signs of the cold temperatures, and with Progen’s new heat shield, they warmed up within a minute or so.

All told, he spent a little over 7,500 mana to encompass the entire body, but he recovered that quickly as more Skulls were destroyed in his defensive positions. He’d have to keep replenishing the heat shield as the night wore on, every 30 minutes to be exact, but he still had plenty of mana incoming to accomplish that.

While the night wore on, Progen used his newfound knowledge to imagine how he could implement it with his existing defenses. He didn’t get very far, though, before the cold nighttime came to a close. Unfortunately, the next day came with a blizzard of snow and frigid cold that even his efforts couldn’t repel.

The host has taken refuge in a cave of some sort, but even that protection has very little effect on the temperatures.

Progen was spending as much mana as he could to stave off the cold, but the best he could do was ensure that his dungeon didn’t lose any extremities to frostbite. In the end, Marstin succumbed to unconsciousness as the dungeon crystal struggled to keep him alive.

Chapter 34

When Marstin opened his eyes, a stray thought passed through his mind.

I’m getting sick and tired of waking up in places where I don’t remember falling asleep.

Following that, he took in his current surroundings. He was lying on some kind of bed, though not of a type he was familiar with. The blanket over his body appeared to be fur from a creature and was quite warm. He appeared to be in a room with a pointed ceiling. As he stared closer, he could make out the poles and rope holding the roof together.

“Ah, so the young hero awakes,” a kindly voice came from across the room. Marstin looked over and saw an older woman sitting in a chair next to a flap in the fabric, likely meant to be used as a door. The older woman was clearly a tribal member, with her dark brown skin bordering on black and her entire left side covered in intricate and detailed blue tattoos at a level the young adventurer had never seen before. She was dressed in what Marstin assumed to be normal attire for the tribes and living up north: leather clothes worn beneath a layer of fur. The lady was slowly twining dried leaves together into a basket, her pace unhurried. “How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” Marstin shrugged, leaning up off the bed. “Did you rescue me? If so, then you have my gratitude.”

“Save these thoughts for those who deserve it,” the elder advised with a smile. “Your companion was the one who kept you warm enough to be found by our people. But it was due to the persuasion of our youth that we brought you here and discovered your mark, one we cannot forget so easily.”

She pointed, and Marstin’s gaze dropped to his hand. The mark Yolna had left for him glowed quietly under the light of the torches.

“The mark of the Hero of Space,” the older woman continued. “I never expected to see it again while I still walked among my people, but perhaps destiny and fate enjoy the occasional blessing.” She chuckled. “Ah, but I’ve said too much. You have several eager visitors waiting patiently to greet you. I shall take my leave for now; we will talk later.”

She stood up with her unfinished basket and exited the room through the flap in the wall. Marstin waited, and his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps running towards him. The flap was violently pushed out of the way as four figures entered the room, to Marstin’s delight!

“Jillia, Yule, Etna, Yarrow!” he cried joyfully.

“Marstin! You’re awake!” Yarrow said, equally as joyful, though the older woman, still fresh from girlhood, was pushed out of the way by the three younger girls who wasted no time crowding around Marstin’s bed. The young man happily greeted them all.

“It’s so good to see you, Marstin!” Jillia said, bouncing around happily with the same familiar energy, her smile and straightforwardness much like Kyra’s. Indeed, the two girls had a lot in common and even practiced similar fighting styles, with Jillia’s job being that of an Istutian Frigid Monk, who fought using their fists much like Kyra and her father. She came from the Black Ice Bull Tribe, which was renowned, apparently, for their Frigid Monks. Jillia was a shorter girl compared to Kyra, but still larger in size when compared to either Marstin or Kyra given the muscles on her body. Her thicker body size appeared to be an even mix of muscle and fat, giving her original shy appearance an undeniable sense of strength and power. After getting to know her, though, Marstin had found her to be a confident fighter and excellent sparring partner for Kyra. Jillia’s hair was the standard tribal black, but her skin tone was much lighter than Yarrow or the other girls’, a sure sign of youth as a tribal member, as her skin would darken and develop the intricate tattoos of wintering as she grew stronger and older. Unlike the armor he’d last seen her wearing, Jillia was now wearing a sleeveless leather top lined with animal teeth along the edges and knee-length leather pants held in place by a sinew and leather belt.

“We were worried when we found you,” Yule spoke up quietly, though with an equally happy face as her compatriots. “You’d fallen asleep in the grasp of winter, but luckily you picked a barrow the patrols and hunters used. I’m glad you’re okay.” Yule was an Istutian Polar Warrior from the Moon Lion Tribe. She was a much thinner girl than Jillia, and yet the animal furs covering her body did a poor job of hiding her muscular definition, which appeared to be even more defined than her larger companion. Despite this, she’d come across as quite shy and nervous during her first meeting with Marstin. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of her trying to stare him down even though she’d hid her somewhat cowering body behind Kyra. That being said, Yule was stronger than she looked, which was saying something. The obvious example of this was the gigantic broadsword on her back -- twice her size, and likely equal to her weight -- which Yule carried with her everywhere, including now. While her wardrobe hadn’t changed as much as Jillia’s, she, too, was now wearing a sleeveless leather and fur shirt, though hers had a line of claws around her belt that matched a necklace of claws around her neck.

“If you wanted to visit, you should have sent a messenger from the enclave in Iora,” Etna, the last member of Marstin’s adventuring party, snorted in derision. But her smirk was good-natured, and her eyes were as happy as her companions to see Marstin up. Etna was an Istutian Sorcerer, by her own words an aberrant profession such that its title lacked the middle symbol representing her destiny; Polar. She claimed to have been born an aberration of her tribe, cursed to be unable to join her ancestors in the winter storm, yet blessed with great magical powers stemming from her bloodline. Etna hailed from the Silver Serpent Tribe originally before her exile. Marstin had never been able to learn whether Etna’s exile was self-imposed or not from the snarky, often sarcastic girl, but it seemed something had changed since she’d returned. She wore a flowing fur robe with a scaled belt wrapped around her middle, signifying her connection to her clan.

“If this visit hadn’t been so impromptu, I would have sent word,” Marstin agreed with Etna. “But, I had to make a hasty exit from Iora before I could even find the enclave. Though, on second thought, maybe I should have visited before all this mess started.”

“Leave it to you to get into more trouble,” Yarrow teased as she pushed her way next to Marstin’s companions to roll her eyes at him. Yarrow was an Istutian Polar Wizard and the youngest member of the adventuring party led by Oswald, the Iron Yaks. The group had been Marstin’s mentor during his first adventure, and several more after, and he’d gotten along with Yarrow the best as she was very similar to himself. The magic user appeared to be only a few years older than Marstin, though in the 3 months since he’d last seen her, she appeared to have matured even more with her skin taking the tanner hue of her tribe members. She had black hair and was still dressed in warm wolf furs that formed a full-body kind of outfit. If she put a wolf’s head over her own, Marstin still had no doubt she could easily be mistaken as a wolf, herself. Her weapon of choice, a long magic staff intricately carved from what appeared to be a bone, was slung on her back, the round yellow crystal-like monster core still attached to its tip and glistening under the torchlight. “What did you end up doing this time?”

“It’s a long story,” Marstin deflected.

“We have plenty of time,” Jillia piped up, pulling a chair over to Marstin’s bedside. “Go on, tell us everything.”

The young ladies all sat and patiently listened to the older boy give his version of the story, starting with the impulsive abduction by the guild master and delivery to Sue {“That sounds like something he’d do, alright”, Yarrow nodded}; the journey to the capital and encounter with the winter bandits and strange space assassins {“How fascinating!” Etna commented, with sparkles in her eyes}; the various happenings and encounters in the capital itself {“Was the garden really covered in flowers?” Yule asked, unbelieving}; to finally the ball and the prince’s luncheon.

“As I said, trouble just always seems to follow you,” Yarrow groaned, her hand pressed against her forehead. “And your tendency to react impulsively doesn’t seem to have changed either. Couldn’t you at least have tried to pretend you were poisoned, too, instead of running? Why would you leave the prince alone if you knew there were enemies around? They could easily finish the job without you there.”

“I thought about that later,” Marstin admitted. “But I didn’t want to take any chances with my life. Also, the prince seemed a fairly good candidate for the main culprit, and I’m not in the habit of keeping potential enemies safe.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there,” Yarrow snorted. “In any case, how’d you escape?”

Marstin gave a brief rundown of the thieves guild, but decided to paint Yolna as a third party instead of the head of the Thieves’ Guild. It was true enough after all, since she’d paid the guild to rescue him to hide her tracks.

“Yolna, the innkeeper?” Yule rubbed her chin inquisitively. “I wonder why she pays so much more attention.”

“Let’s set that aside for the moment,” Etna interrupted. “You said you picked up an earring from the enemy you could use to hear their conversations? Do you still have that on you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Marstin blinked, raising his hand to his ear. “I forgot all about it since it hasn’t worked after leaving Iora. Why?”

“Hand it over,” Etna out-stretched her arm. “Need to make sure it doesn’t have any tracking spells enchanted into it.” Marstin started, and obediently handed over the earing still looped on the wire that hung on his ear. Etna pursed her lips as she examined it. “I don’t see any tracking magic. Yarrow?”

The older girl accepted the earring and gave it a close look, clicking her tongue. “I agree, no tracking magic, luckily. That could have backfired on you, Marstin. That being said, the magic attached to this is quite interesting and unique. If you don’t mind, Marstin, I’ll hand this over to one of my elders in the Frost Wolf tribe to compare it to our records. Maybe they’ll find something useful for you.”

“Sure, take it,” Marstin agreed, “I could use the help. Speaking of, did Brack explain to you all why I came up north?”

“His name is Brack?” Jillia asked. “Well, after making sure you were safe, he vanished into the night with your two horses. We did find a brief note meant for you: He’ll return when you’re prepared to go back to Iora. I assumed from your story that you came up north for sanctuary. Is there more?”

“A bit,” Marstin admitted. “It has to do with my condition. In Iora, I drank part of a cure to free me from, uh, from a curse I’ve been living with for most of my life. I was forced to flee before I could get the other part, and the tribes are likely the only place I can get the rest.”

“What is it you need?” Yarrow asked.

“A tier 7 ice wyvern core,” Marstin admitted sheepishly. “I need to eat it.”

The girls all shared startled looks.

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Etna tapped her knee in thought. “I’m sure it won’t be too much of an issue for the elders to agree to help you. They seem to put a lot of importance on the glowing mark your hand is holding. That being said, I’m not too sure we have one just laying around.”

“True, but he did come during the perfect time to get one,” Yule pointed out calmly. “The centennial hunt will surely bring in at least one. Olivia should be returning from her hunt later today; we can ask her if she’s seen anyone hunting a wyvern. Anything else?”

“Yes. Apparently, I’ll need to be kept cold after swallowing the core; otherwise, I’ll spontaneously combust,” Marstin said with an even expression. “Oh, and there’s a good chance I’ll die, a decent chance I’ll become an invalid, and a small chance nothing bad happens immediately. So, all in all, I’m really looking forward to it.”

The girls all sighed and patted Marstin reassuringly.

“What’s life without death anyway?” Jillia reassured Marstin. “We all join with the winter someday. Not taking chances to avoid closing the time gap between would make for a really boring existence. And with your luck, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“His luck is a bit more ambiguous than that,” Etna pointed out. “But the elders would be aggrieved if they allowed a guest with the mark of the Hero of Space to die so easily under their watch. They’ll do their best to keep him alive.”

A horn from somewhere outside caught everyone’s attention. Yarrow grinned.

“That sounds like Olivia’s team is back!” she stood up and helped Marstin out of the bed. “Let’s go see how well your luck is holding up.”

Marstin shrugged. There would always be something, he supposed.

Chapter 35

With the help of the girls, Marstin was able to get out of bed and put on an outer layer of tribal fur armor. After following them out of the room, he was surprised to learn that he’d not been in a tent, as it had appeared, but was actually in a building. A corridor ran down to the left from his flap door, with many other flaps at similar intervals, all connected by the same leather fabric as his own room. Looking up at the ceiling, Marstin noted that the fabric appeared to be slightly thinner, allowing for his improved eyesight to see through. What he saw was a solid block of ice on the outside of the fabric that allowed light to pass through, illuminating the passageway.

“What, did you think we lived in moving tents?” Yarrow teased Marstin good-naturedly. “Think about it, how would we be able to keep warm in single person or even single-family tents? Our ancestors used their connection to winter to create these underground ice shelters where we can set up our rooms and get out of the winter. The tribes do migrate from time to time, but always to another ice shelter.”

“That’s very innovative,” Marstin marveled as he walked with Yarrow down the passage, nodding at a few tribal folks who were entering their own rooms. “But I can’t imagine just any other human managing to do this.”

“Winter flows through our blood,” Jillia piped up from ahead of them, her hands holding the back of her head as she casually walked. “Our elders can easily make ice shelters like this using their power. But, not everyone understands this.”

The group came to a wooden and bone door at the end of the passageway. Jillia pushed it open, revealing an immense ice cavern with many structures scattered around a central plaza. Marstin turned around to find the place they had come from was a long structure that ran underground beyond the cavern. A word he couldn’t read was hung above the doorway.

“Healing lodge,” Yule offered helpfully. “It's where we treat our injured.”

“And since you’re fine, we’re going to a speaking hut,” Jillia explained as she led the way. “The horn means Olivia’s group has been sighted, but they’ll still be awhile; so, we’ll wait in a speaking hut and talk some more. Think of it like, like a private café like in Graniton, but without food. Good chairs, though.”

The speaking hut, as it turned out, was a series of box shaped leather buildings standing between the central plaza and what appeared to be a residential area, with tents of all types scattered into groups, each with an animal marking. They entered, Marstin noticed a few Istutian men milling about with a group of Istutian Polar tribal people, mostly girls. He lost sight once Etna closed the door.

“Don’t worry about them,” she said, having noticed Marstin’s gaze, “Those are people who volunteered to visit us via our enclave in Iora. They’ll likely just stick around long enough to make a few kids and leave. Most become too scared to stay here longer than that, like my own father.”

The five young adventurers took seats around the room, enjoying the warmth of a small fireplace that appeared to be burning without fuel.

“I still can’t help but marvel at the amazing magical feats I’ve seen and heard about,” the older boy murmured as he ran his hand over the flame, noting the heat that defied conventional practice. “I can understand why most people fear you all, though I personally feel it’s a waste.”

“Since most humans don’t have natural magic, of course they become scared of us who do,” Yarrow reminded Marstin. “In fact, due to the concentration of winter magic in our blood, we are actually on the edge of humanity. If we didn’t start importing new blood thanks to the treaty with King Tormund, it was predicted our future generations would have instinctual magic instead of natural magic.”

“Which would make you more monster than human,” Marstin summarized the unspoken conclusion. His eyes involuntarily looked over Yarrow’s tribal tattoos, which had subtly grown in the time he hadn’t seen her.

“Exactly,” Etna nodded. “My exile. . .” she looked down for a moment, until Yule gave her a comforting pat. Etna sighed and looked back up. “I’m an Istutian Sorcerer, but not a ‘Polar Sorcerer’, because my blood has gone over that limit. I’m still human,” she held up her hands reassuringly. “Just, not as much as everyone else, sort of. I don’t completely understand it myself, just the looks of fear from the adults in my tribe were enough to tell me what I am. I was lucky enough to meet you and these ice balls, who helped me return to my tribe as a full member. Though, I am forbidden to have children with any man of the tribes.” She shrugged as Killia, Yule, and Yarrow all laughed. “Not really a loss I’d say.” She smiled as Jillia and Yule held her hands in support.

“Sorcerers draw their magic from their bloodline,” Marstin recalled hazily. “Which means their spells often originate from a magical non-human ancestor of some kind, or a leftover magical effect passed down through the bloodline. If you examine it from a literal perspective, every Istutian Polar tribal member is a kind of sorcerer. So for you to be the only one known as a sorcerer, your magic must be. . . unique?” Marstin gave Etna a quizzical look. “I’ve seen your magic and, no offense, but I haven’t seen anything special about it, beyond being magical.”

She shook her head. “Sorry Marstin, but I can’t say more than that. It’s not that I don't trust you, but. . . I’m not ready yet.”

Marstin nodded in acceptance. Everyone was entitled to their own secrets, after all.

“So,” Yarrow leaned forward eagerly. “You’re stuck in the middle of a large political conflict with all kinds of shady moves and underhanded deals. How does it feel becoming part of a legend?”

“Like crap, painful crap,” Marstin admitted. “It was bad enough pretending to be a hero, but I agree with you that history is being written even now. I just happen to be the punching sack in the story. I don’t even fully understand what the conflict is about.”

He began counting on his fingers. “I know people are still upset about the tribes for all kinds of reasons: the tribal people of Istut are ‘traditional enemies’; they are ‘stealing’ manpower from businesses; they are ‘less than human’; etc. I know that the economic effects of past decisions are having a negative impact on the country: running out of carnivorous monsters to hunt and balance the caribou population, mines running dry, merchants and nobles suffering backlashes after raising the price on imports. I know that some group is using demon mind control magic to achieve their ends, and that they are likely related to the death of the former king. There is a group that wants to change things in the government, and there’s a group that wants as little as possible to change.”

He threw his hands up. “I’m an orphan from Graniton. What do I know about politics, economics, and everything else worth fighting over? And yet, I’m supposed to react to the moves others make towards me. Once again, I find myself merely a pawn serving someone else’s plan or game or whatever analogy is most relevant. I’m really getting tired of it, being used.” He sighed.

Marstin’s three adventuring companions exchanged nervous looks; it was clear they weren’t in any position to say anything either, given their younger age.

Yarrow, on the other hand, nodded in understanding.

“Do you remember what I once told you?” she asked Marstin. “About how the way things used to be for us Istutian Polar tribal people?” She snorted at Marstin’s vague shrug.

“Well then let me remind you,” she said, taking a deep breath as she began. “I’m old enough to somewhat remember the time before the treaty with King Tormund, but even back then was nothing compared to how things used to be. In fact, right now only my teacher’s teacher is the last living member of the tribe to remember those times, the post-human civil war times. Back then, the tribes were all treated as lesser humans and discriminated against like we were goblins or green orcs, and there was no trade between us and other humans. We could only get by with hunting caribou and scavenging for winter fruit, but the former was dangerous even for a trained hunter and the latter was limited. The only trade we could do was with the devils, but their own land isn’t known for its bounty and their prices were always high. Sometimes the devils even reneged on their deals and refused to pay. They’d even sometimes raid a tribe to steal strong or good-looking members of the tribes to use as slaves. And the mercenary companies of old Istut were always looking to raid us for our furs, monster cores, and other things they found valuable. Between the loss of tribal members through hunting, fighting, and defending, the tribes were on the verge of extinction.”

The atmosphere in the speaking hut had grown dark and tense, and Marstin uncomfortably rubbed his hands over the fire to get rid of the chill sending goosebumps up his arm. Jillia, Yule, and Etna all looked uncomfortable as well.

Yarrow continued her story without pausing. “This got better after the old Istut was remade into the modern Istut, with the royal family in charge and the mercenary groups becoming noble families. The raiding didn’t stop, but it became much harder for the nobles to do. Their gear seemed to become worse, as well, for some reason.” She shrugged. “As the tribes became less valuable, the devil raiding parties turned to the Istutians, causing them to divide their forces to defend against the devils. This allowed us to slowly recover our numbers, and even forge a few trade agreements with some of the more intelligent nobles.”

“It was only with the rise of the Adventurer Guild in Istut that all that changed. Those heroes who rose up, they changed everything.” Yarrow pointed at Marstin’s hand. “The Hero of Space was the only one officially recognized by Istut, but all five of them were regarded as heroes here.”

Yarrow didn’t notice Marstin’s startled look as she was too busy gazing into the flames. “The five heroes fought back against tradition, discrimination, and prejudice to open the doors not only for the tribes, but for all the people of Istut, including the half-devils and the foreigners.”

“How come we’ve never heard of the ‘five heroes?” Jillia asked, cocking her head to the side. “I’ve only ever heard King Tormund being praised for leading the changes.”

“That’s because we don’t know who the four other heroes are,” Yarrow explained. “Prince Tormund, as he was known at the time, was part of the group under the Hero of Space. But the tribal records for the other three went missing somehow, and thus no longer appear in our verbal history. I learned about them from my teacher, who showed me an enchanted skin with the handprints of the heroes upon it, alongside the personal seal of every tribe. It is odd, though,” she said with a strangely confused expression, “that one of the handprints is clearly from a member of the tribes, as a rare written journal alongside the skin says, ‘The tribes are proud, knowing that a member who had left to find work was among these first heroes, forging a path to survival by opening equal trade with the rest of Istut and persuading the royal family to acknowledge us and our lands as true citizens of the country’. No one knows who wrote the journal either, and it remains a bit of a mystery.

“Anyway,” Yarrow shrugged and continued. “You all know the results of the treaty. Because of it, it is our honor to send out younger members of the tribes, like myself and you three, to experience and help the world through the Adventurer’s Guild. Through this connection to the outside world, we are able to find mates to bring home, establish trade with new partners, and teach others the truth about our heritage and identity. Since then, about ten years ago now, we no longer have to worry about starving, nor fear freezing to death for lack of furs to keep us warm. Can you imagine, being forced to choose between starving to death or freezing to death after trading your last fur blanket to feed your family?”

She shook her head. “Now, the tribes send out their younglings near the beginning of summer when it’s the safest to traverse the wilderness. They travel with the trade caravans to the capital city, where the tribal embassy is stationed all year. They determine where the younglings end up, keeping still the traditional ‘throw the child off a cliff to teach him to climb’ mentality that keeps us strong. We learn about the outside world and return here every winter to share our experiences with the tribe.”

Finished with her summary, Yarrow bowed as the other four gave her resounding claps of appreciation and admiration.

“I might not remember it exactly, but your explanation has most certainly deepened since I last heard it,” Marstin said. “Your teacher must be proud.”

Yarrow’s response was cut off by the sound of another horn, which echoed through the cavern outside.

“They’re here!” Jillia explained happily. “Come on, let’s go see what they caught!” The eager warrior led the others out of the room as they rushed to the central plaza. A crowd of people had already gathered along the road that led up out of the cavern, and they could hear cheers as they approached. Marstin, the tallest among the five of them, was the first to see the source of the commotion.

Olivia, smiling triumphantly, was pulling a two-wheeled cart filled with caribou with her two companions, Jules and Emilia, and leading a group of hunters all pulling their own wagons of caught prey. Marstin could vaguely estimate the number of slain caribou to be about 100, possibly more.

Olivia had not changed much since he’d last seen her. She was still the tallest amongst her group, and in fact the tallest person Marstin knew besides the guild master. As before, her overall appearance was quite different from the typical tribal person, with her long white hair and white skin covered in the elaborate dark blue tribal markings across most of her body. Her three-clawed scar across her left eye and cheek still marred her face but failed to disguise the wild beauty she seemed to exude with every step. Jules and Emilia also possessed the atypical white hair and white skin, though the tips of their hair were black, and their tribal markings were much simpler while covering less of their skin.

“I’ve never been able to ask, but why is their hair and skin different from everyone else?” Marstin whispered to Yarrow.

“It’s a great honor that exists as part of their profession as Istutian Polar Hunters,” Yarrow whispered back. “Unlike the other professions in our tribes, the polar hunters are unique because of their role as hunters. Theirs is a job title reserved only for the people in tribes that become one, truly one, with winter. As you know, all members of the tribes accustom our blood over time to slowly meld with the cold, with the snow, and with the forest to become one with it, but few ever truly reach this stage before their time comes. This is different for the Polar Hunters, for as their bond with winter grows deeper, their hair turns whiter, and their tattoos grow until they cover every inch of skin. This blesses them with immunity from frost, the ability to move through snow and ice like phantoms, and a higher endurance to pain, punishment, and starvation. The strongest can go weeks without requiring food. They hunt all polar creatures and monsters, such as polar buffalo, ice worgs, and even snow drakes. The cost is that their lives are short and when they pass, they join the winter as winter spirits in the endless hunt. They can come visit during the winters of each year, or walk among us during the centennial winter, such as now.”

“I see you’ve learned your lessons well!” A deep and amused voice caused the two young adventurers to jump in surprise. They turned to see Olivia standing before them with a wide smile, arms crossed underneath her bosom. Behind her, Jules and Emilia had deposited the wagon in the central plaza and were directing tribesmen and women to move the caribou.

“You confused the most important point however,” Olivia lectured, wagging her finger at Yarrow. “Once the bond becomes deep enough with the Winter, we will slowly lose our human forms, and we shall become winter spirits of the land under the guidance of Equinox; or, we shall die and join Normid in her eternal hunt. Only the worthiest hunters join with Normid on the eternal hunt; those that die during great hunts and those who pass with great hunts under their belt, so to speak. Both spirits return during the winter, but only Normid’s chosen hunters can take human shape to walk among us during the centennial winter season. Winter spirits can also return during the two yearly equinoxes to join their families for a meal, but not more than that. It’s a very important distinction to make, Yarrow.”

“I apologize for my blunder,” Yarrow bowed her head.

“No need,” Olivia clapped Yarrow on the shoulder. “You’re still young and have time. Your studies may wane while you adventure out in the world, but so long as you never completely forget it will all still be here for you to learn, especially after you take over as shaman of the Polar Wolf tribe, right?

Yarrow nodded, a happy expression on her face.

“And now you, Marstin,” Olivia turned to face him, giving him a scrutinizing gaze that finally landed on his glowing hand. “I’ve heard some about the situation from the elders, but I think we should find a speaking hut for you to explain everything to me. I have some free time now, so let’s go.”

*   *   *

After Jules and Emilia joined them, the party of eight returned to the speaking hut, where this time, Marstin took to explaining his story. Olivia’s face stayed mostly neutral, with the occasional thoughtful look often preceded by or followed by a look of deep concentration. When he was finished, Marstin leaned back into his chair, almost forgetting the seats had low backs and falling backwards.

Olivia thrummed her fingers together as she thought to herself.

“It sounds like you’ve been through quite the adventure, again,” Jules observed. “Perhaps you should consider early retirement before you get pulled into a national war.”

“Oh, don’t scare the boy,” Emilia scolded. “I doubt he had any desire in going through all that. The real question is what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?” Marstin asked carefully.

Olivia sighed and leaned back. “We are obligated to follow your request, Marstin, due to the debt all tribes have towards the Hero of Space. The problem is that we don’t have a tier 7 ice wyvern core, nor any wyvern core for that matter. The lesser cores were sold in preparation of the centennial winter’s celebration, and as for the stronger cores. . .” she broke off and shook her head. “Tier 7s are not a force even we hunters tread lightly against. To coin the adventurer definitions, we’d need at least 1 A rank adventurer to lead the hunting party, with 3 or 4 others to ensure minimal casualties. I am the current hunting leader out of all the gathered tribes here, and I’m merely a B ranked adventurer. Perhaps in another year or two I’d reach that level of strength, but that would be too late, wouldn’t it?”

Marstin shrugged somewhat despondently. “Who knows how much time I have left. I certainly haven’t felt anything failing, but I doubt what I drank will be silent forever.”

“I see,” Olivia nodded. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’d better gather the hunters.”

The five younger adventurers all blinked.

“You plan on hunting an ice wyvern?” Yule asked in surprise. “But you just said-”

“I know what I said,” Olivia smirked. “But an Istutian Polar Hunter does not back away from a hunt just because there is a threat of death. Besides, I owe Marstin personally for bringing him into the adventurer’s life and for guiding the training of you three younglings.” She nodded at Jillia, Yule, and Etna. “The elders will agree because of the Hero of Space’s mark. The other hunters will agree because hunting an ice wyvern is a worthy hunt to make them stand out in the eyes of Normid, the great huntress and hunter. Everyone wins, so of course we’re going.”

“Oh, but not you five,” she said quickly, shutting down the eager faces with a solid frown. “You five are all too weak to even consider coming along. Don’t try and fight me on this; a tier 7 monster is like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

She ignored the protests from the four young ladies, but her eyes did look uneasily at Marstin.

“I want to go,” he said simply. “And I’m fairly certain you don’t have the authority to stop me, right?”

Olivia groaned, but nodded. “Your request, your hunt, your mark of friendship. I can’t order you not to come, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you in other ways.” Marstin quickly hid behind his four fellow young adventurers as Olivia’s eyes gleamed dangerously.

“I won’t be a burden,” he said quickly. “While my rank may be F, both the guild master and the royal guard agree I can fight with the strength of a C ranked adventurer. My companions here can confirm it.”

The three girls all reluctantly nodded, the envy plain to see in their eyes.

Olivia hesitated. Jules and Emilia waited patiently for their leader’s decision, ignoring her pleading eyes for their help. The older adventurer finally groaned and nodded.

“Fine. You can come.”

*   *   *

“Are you ready, Marstin?” Olivia asked quietly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Marstin said, his eyes staring unwaveringly at the herd of caribou grazing on the ice trees that dominated the forest.

“This won’t be like any other fight you’ve had before,” Olivia warned. “You may have persuaded me to bring you along, but I still think you’d be better served watching the hunt. We hunters are not weak.”

“I have to do this,” Marstin said, his hand gripping his throwing dagger so hard his skin paled. “I can feel it rising within me, that instinct that this is an experience I can’t miss.”

The older, more experienced adventurer was silent.

“Olivia, it’s coming,” one of the male Istutian Polar Hunters warned. Marstin could hear it too, the sound of flapping hidden within the chilling cries of the wind from somewhere up above, beyond the limits of sight in this snowstorm.

“Get ready, then,” Olivia ordered. “We have to stop it from flying away; otherwise, this fight will become far more dangerous.”

The other hunters around them nodded, bows and arrows prepared to cock at a moment’s notice.

The first sign came from the caribou. The herd’s leader, the tier 3 ice mimic caribou suddenly whipped its head around and let out a disturbed snort. The herd reacted at once, ceasing their eating to nervously paw the snow and search for any signs of enemies. The older members of the herd pushed themselves out to the edges of the herd, creating a line of defense for the fertile females and the young.

The second sign came soon after. A low roar echoed through the land, disturbing the snow so much it fell from the treetops and bounced on the ground as if an earthquake were occurring. But no one had much time to react to the sound before it appeared.

From above, as if it separated from the snowy skies like magic, the great beast appeared in all its glory. Marstin’s entire body shivered at the sound and sight of the monster, and he could feel both sources of magic within him become agitated. His right hand gained a blue hue, while his left hand softly glowed red, forcing him to hide both under his clothes.

The great beast, the tier 7 monster, the ice wyvern gave out a cry that sounded like the combination of an eagle’s screech and a bear’s howl. The caribou beneath it, slightly larger than a human, were dwarfed by its sheer size, which appeared to be more than 10 times the size of them. It flew on two massive wings, each the length of a tall tree, with claws on the central joint of each. The bones within each wing were covered in a layer of white scales, much like the rest of its body, but with thick flesh connecting the wings together much like a bat’s. Two reptilian legs stretched out from the rear of its body, claws the size of a sword already open and prepared to attack. Its equally massive tail balanced against the large head, whipping around only slightly as the monster rapidly descended. But the most eye-catching part of the monster was its head: a many-horned white scaled head with a long snout and many razor-sharp teeth that appeared to be breathing out frigid air with every breath.

The caribou panicked at once, forgoing any sense of unity as they broke away and attempted to flee into the woods, even though it was too late. The ice wyvern smashed into the center of the herd, taking down a caribou with both winged claws, both taloned feet, its tail, and finally its teeth as its head sank into the tier 3 ice caribou mimic leader. In less than a minute, it killed 6 monsters without any effort.

“Now!” Olivia commanded as she stood up, an arrow knocked on her bow. “Fire!”

The hunting group released their arrows through the air as a single unit before quickly reloading and firing again. They didn’t bother firing a third time as they discarded the bows and rushed ahead with their spears and massive swords, Olivia and her party leading the way. Marstin followed up behind the group, trailing as he hadn’t reacted as fast as the hunter due to his continued awe of the monster.

The arrows flew true in the first volley, smashing through the monster’s fleshy wing parts and leaving behind bleeding holes. The beast screeched in pain and flapped reflexively, causing most of the second volley to miss, though a few managed to add more holes to the wings. The wyvern, thoroughly enraged, locked eyes onto the approaching group of hunters with blood-red eyes. It reared back and took a deep breath.

“Move out of its breath!” Olivia ordered quickly, swiftly darting to the left.

Marstin was barely able to hide behind a large rock before the wyvern unleashed its deadliest weapon, its breath attack. A flash of the coldest air Marstin had ever felt surged by him, so cold he saw the very soundwaves it emitted freeze into solid shape. Even avoiding the attack, Marstin’s right arm suddenly began to grow a layer of ice on it, forcing the young adventurer to activate his ‘blue aura’ to counter the creeping chill until the breath stopped. He peeked around the rock once he heard the wyvern shriek in pain.

Six hunters stood frozen in place, their defiant looks permanently locked in place by a thick layer of ice that obscured their features beyond a humanoid resemblance. Though, perhaps the open mouths were screams of terror instead, but no one would ever know.

It appeared most of the hunting party had avoided the blast thankfully, though Marstin spotted a few with severed legs and arms fighting with newly created ice replacements. Olivia was leading the attack against the monster, her sword slashing wildly against its scales as she dodged its counterattacks. The beast, with its injured wing, was lashing out wildly at the hunter using its entire body. Its head chomped at the closest hunters, and its tail swung wildly like a whip, smashing the occasional hunter into the ground or sending them flying into a tree. It also used its wings as blunt weapons when it whipped around, and its claws to grab or slash hunters. Marstin winced as a grabbed hunter was thrown into the air, only to be snapped into bloody pieces by the monster’s teeth.

The young adventurer found himself unable to do little more than watch. Despite his earlier bravado and dedication to the fight, the beast’s mere presence seemed to exude an aura that froze his very soul, like looking into the eyes of death itself and feeling his own mortality in terrible danger.

He could only watch as the hunters fought on bravely, despite the mounting number of injuries they were incurring at the cost of their attacks. Olivia herself was bleeding from several spots across her body, painting her appearance a grim red to contrast with the wyvern’s white scales. The monster itself didn’t appear to be faring much better, with a number of cuts releasing blue blood down its body.

‘Should I run?’ Marstin couldn’t help but think about this question. His will was wavering in the face of everything before him. Without the core, he would die. With the core, he would probably die. As a criminal suspected of attempted assassination of the prince, he’d never be able to go home. The spiral of negative thoughts crashed down on Marstin, far stronger than the young adventurer had ever experienced before.

The daggers still held in his hands shivered, though Marstin could no longer feel the cold. A surge of pain ran through his body, and Marstin looked down.

Around his neck, hidden under his armor, was the symbol of Rogue, his adventuring party. It seemed to have rubbed his neck a bit raw due to the amount of time he’d worn it, having been unable to take it off since fleeing Iora.

A wisp of red ran through his left eye.

‘You were always fated to die. Will you wait for it, or will you choose your fate?’ came the voice of his inner demon, far more solemn than Marstin had ever heard it before. As if echoing this sentiment, Marstin felt the ‘blue aura’ throbbing across his body, even causing his right eye to see its blue fiery wisps.

‘Are you still the same person who lived in a grave waiting for death? Are you willing to accept the pain inflicted upon you without returning it? Will you kneel down, and smile at the face of death knowing you did all you could?’ the voice taunted in his head, the red light growing stronger.

“But I’m not strong enough,” Marstin growled, punching the ground. “I can’t face that monster.”

‘Call for me, and call for it.’ The voice purred in his ear. ‘If you aren’t willing to surrender to fate just yet, we will work together just this once.’

‘We?’ Marstin muttered, looking down at his hands. They each still glowed in red and blue, the slumbering power waiting to be called upon.

I’ve always thought of this power as someone else’s,Marstin murmured to himself, realization coming over him. Why couldn’t I understand. . . this is my power. It’s always been my power. Every time I used it, I grew stronger in body and mind. This. . . is. . . MY power! And I won’t roll over accepting this lousy fate! I refuse to die without a fight!” Marstin screamed, and his arms ignited.

In the middle of the fight, Olivia, the other hunters, and the wyvern were all suddenly distracted by a huge burst of light, followed by a wave of magical energy. The suddenness and intensity of the wave even made the wyvern grow cautious, and it suddenly reared back again.

“Breath attack!” Olivia screamed. “Out of the way!” Suddenly, she realized something now that her mind could unfocus. “Where’s Marstin?”

The wyvern unleashed its breath attack, sending the deathly cold out once more with frozen projectiles intermixed toward the beam of light. There was a loud bang as something exploded by taking the brunt of the blast, and the light vanished.

“MARSTIN!” Olivia shouted, her heart falling at the sight of white nothingness, with no sign of anything ever existing in the space the breath attack had passed through. Her grief was shattered by a pain-filled screech from the wyvern, as it reared its head back and shook violently.

There, dug deep into its eyelid, a familiar dagger was embedded. As the monster reached up to attempt to remove it, the dagger flew back out of the eye and spun until it landed in the waiting hands of Marstin.

Somehow, he’d lost the fur armor he’d been loaned and was just wearing his dress armor with the sword motif. This was not the only thing that had changed, as his entire demeanor had morphed into one of savage confidence and calm resolve. His body glowed faintly of a purple light, condensing itself around him like a layer of armor. His body suddenly leaned forward as Olivia blinked, only to reappear next to her, looking at the wyvern.

“I can’t inflict any fatal damage even like this,” his calm voice said to the older adventurer. “But I can create all the openings you need to do so. Get ready.”

He ran ahead without waiting for Olivia’s answer, his speed so great it appeared he was warping from place to place. The ice wyvern screeched and attacked with its massive body, but Marstin effortlessly avoided the attacks and threw his magical daggers one after another into the various injuries and openings on its body. The daggers returned after only a few moments whether they landed a hit or not, including the daggers Olivia was sure were not enchanted.

She let go of her hesitation, remembering the stories the younger girls had used to convince her to bring along Marstin. His power surely did shine in times of crisis.

“All hunters, attack!” she ordered, pointed with her sword. “Use the openings this boy has created to reach the heart! Don’t let him show up the pride of the Istutian Polar People!”

The remaining hunters, having taken advantage of the pause to recover and seal their injuries, gave a resounding battle cry as they all rushed back into battle, Olivia leading the charge once more.

The wyvern roared and tottered about as the annoying fly was joined by others. Becoming far more enraged, it began to release brief breath attacks indiscriminately at its enemies in an effort to break free of the attack. A large number of hunters were hit, but luckily, they only were sealed by ice instead of being frozen, due to the lower intensity of the attack. Olivia herself had her arms sealed in ice, which she shattered by slamming them against the monster’s scales.

Marstin’s eyes seemed to see the world in slower motion. Each attack from the wyvern, he saw them coming before they began. Each throw of his dagger, he could see the best places to attack. It was as if the entire world had become a math equation for him to solve, but without any mind-numbing math. It was a world of cause and effect. But this wasn’t something he could maintain forever.

*   *   *

A warm feeling informed him that his ears had begun to bleed, joining his nose. A tingling around his eyes and fingertips told him they’d be joining him soon. But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered except finishing this fight.

Inwardly, Marstin couldn’t help but wonder if his current speed was A rank? Maybe S rank? Was this a power he could achieve one day without using magic and aura? As for the side effects of being in this state, Marstin didn’t care. He could live through pain. He was used to it; it could no longer hold him back.

He threw his dagger again, piercing through the other eye of the wyvern, finally blinding it. As it reacted with another pain filled cry, Marstin saw the opening.

“Olivia, now!” he called out.

The experienced B rank adventurer didn’t hesitate for a moment. Her sword imbued with the power of winter and sharpness of ice, she roared out and slammed her blade deep into the monster's torso where the neck met the body, piercing through the scales in her way. She didn’t stop there, as she yanked upwards and jumped, slicing up into the neck until she flew above the monster, leaving a huge gaping wound behind. She turned as she fell, aiming her sword carefully as reared her throwing arm back. The ice wyvern, taken aback by the sudden pain and difficulty breathing, attempted to staunch the wound reflexively, moving its claws to hold its neck in place. Its body, as a result, finally stopped moving.

Olivia did not.

She didn’t make a sound as her eyes locked onto her target, her sword once again fueled by the winter magic that coursed through her veins. She waited until her falling speed was at the limit, and she threw her sword down with all her strength. The blade resembled a meteor as its speed left trails of snow in its wake. The wyvern didn’t see it coming, and truly didn’t realize what had happened as the blade pierced its head all the way to the hilt and stayed there. Everyone else felt the moment as the world itself seemed to freeze under the power of winter, before the rank 7 ice wyvern’s head exploded with ice out of every opening. It barely managed a moan of pain before it dropped, finally silenced.

Olivia landed in the thick snow feet first, avoiding fall damage as best she could. She climbed out of the snow pile a moment later, looking exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Marstin appeared next to her, and the two of them watched as the hunters gathered around the fallen ice wyvern to celebrate.

“I can’t believe we did it,” the older adventurer shook her head. “I was worried we’d all be slain by the beast. But we hunted it, and now those who have died will be able to plead their case to Normid and join their court. This honor, we will never forget.”

She waited for Marstin’s response, but heard nothing. A soft plop sound caused her to turn her head, only to find Marstin face down in the snow, flecks of red blood around his head.

“Marstin!” she cried out worrying, rolling the older boy quickly over.

The young adventurer blinked wearily at her, and then smiled happily despite the slow streams of blood coming out of his orifices.

“Hey, I didn’t black out this time!”

Chapter 37

The resounding cheers that filled the cavern echoed the amazement and awe everyone felt at the sight of the large, monstrous ice wyvern being dragged in by the hunting party on numerous flat carts. Marstin felt he would have loved to be part of the cheering too, had he not also been brought back on a cart right behind the monster, thus making the cheering sound a little like he too was one of the hunted.

In a slightly morbid moment of dark humor, he silently appreciated the cart behind him that carried the injured hunters. At least he wasn’t the only one in this situation. Unlike other times using his special powers, he didn’t feel any pain or other side effects after the fight. Rather, he found his body in a comatose state that wouldn’t respond to his orders. It was as if his mind no longer could control his body, but Olivia had assured him it was to be expected. By her description, this phenomenon was well known to occur whenever a person used magic of a certain level beyond their physical limits; the most common example was when B ranked adventurers used A ranked skills, spells, or abilities. His body was just in a state of shock and backlash from the power, but it wasn’t anything normal healing magic couldn’t cure.

Marstin was very appreciative, then, that the gathering of all the tribes for the centennial winter meant there were many healing shamans to help him. In Graniton, he only knew of one proper magic healing caster, Linda from the Red Family adventurer group, though her abilities were more rounded as a cleric and not specialized as a healer. Everyone else relied on healing potions, medicine, or the occasional spell caster with a basic healing spell. None of which he’d ever wasted on his side effects from the ‘blue aura’ before.

“Cheer up, Marstin,” Jules said from up front, pulling the cart. “To be still alive after facing such a beast is to be celebrated. There is no shame in being injured. Besides, at least your injuries will be cured by magic in a bit.”

“Not losing an arm or a leg is a blessing,” he conceded, “but I can't help but wonder if falling unconscious to avoid these kinds of moments is preferable. What kind of hero. . . fake hero needs to be dragged back after completing his task?”

“The living kind,” Jules laughed.

Marstin gave up trying to reason with her.

While the ice wyvern’s body was pulled around the plaza for all to see, Jules took Marstin back to the healing hut where the young adventurer was quickly healed of his fatigue by one of the shamans. The cool, vaguely illuminated light of the spell flowed through his body slowly in waves, and soon Marstin’s hands twitched as feeling and control returned to him.

“All better there, young hunter,” the shaman patted Marstin on the shoulder. “Now head on out to your friends. I need to see the other patients.”

Marstin gave his thanks and walked out of the room and down out of the healing hut, where Jillia, Yule, and Etna were waiting for him.

“Yarrow went to help with the body dismemberment,” Etna explained after noticing Marstin’s curious look around. “She’s one of the more experienced adventurers and is helping the uninjured hunters and those with adventuring experience to finish before the ceremony in a few hours.”

“Can they even manage to dismantle something that big in a few hours?” Marstin raised his eyebrow in disbelief.

“Of course they can,” Jillia playfully punched his shoulder. “The combined might of every tribe’s strength, tools, and magical ability will have the beast carved up in no time. The best meat will be used for the ceremony to honor the ancestors and prepare for their arrival, while the rest will be smoked and salted as provisions. Not counting the feast in 3 days to honor the triumphant and fallen hunters,” she licked her lips, “marinating the wyvern meat for 3 days before cooking it, I can’t wait.”

“You’re eating monster meat?” Marstin grimaced. “Aren’t you worried about the pain, or poison?”

The girls exchanged confused looks with each other.

“Right,” Yule recalled as he tapped her chin. “Istutians don’t eat monster meat. They view it as food for the desperate, since they don’t know how to prepare it. I had forgotten about that.”

“You’ve been missing out,” Etna nodded. “But I suppose your bias won’t allow you to have any meat. We’ll ‘reluctantly’ take your hunter’s share off your hands when the time comes.”

Marstin wasn’t fooled by their almost drooling expressions. “Nice try, but I happen to be more open about my palette than anyone else I know,” he scoffed at them, remembering the various odd and dangerous things he’d eaten over the last year. “You’re not getting good food away from me so easily.”

“Shucks,” Jillia giggled. “It was worth a try.”

The group of four walked through the cavern and gave Marstin a tour, pointing out various landmarks and explaining the architectural choices found among the different tribal groups.

“Normally, only a few tribes will share an ice cavern,” Yule explained as they walked by a group of tribesmen sitting around tables all playing various games with bones, stones, and wooden cards. “This is the only ice cavern that can hold all the tribes together, and it is only used for important events or meetings, like the centennial winter celebration or the spring equinox. The heads of the clans all plan out our migration routes during the yearly equinox gathering, bringing only a handful of their tribe with them. Sometimes several tribes will ally for the year over a shared objective, such as creating a new ice cavern or taking care of a threat to the group like a vicious monster or. . . Istutian raids.” She gave Marstin an apologetic look.

“I’m the one who should apologize to you,” Marstin waved off her expression. “It sounds like my country has been quite damaging to your culture.”

“The anger between our groups is mutual at times,” Etna muttered, her eyes signaling to Marstin. He noticed a few tribal members with serpent and turtle tattoos gazing at him with unfriendly eyes from one of the tables. “No one will cause you any trouble during the centennial festival, especially with the mark on your hand and your help in slaying the wyvern, but I believe it best you keep with us while you stay here, especially during the drinking. And there’s a lot of drinking coming with the prize of an ice wyvern being killed.”

“From my experience, people should best judge others by their actions and not by their heritage,” Marstin sighed. “We all bleed the same blood, in the end.”

“Well said,” Jillia clapped Marstin on the back. “Now, see those dark colored tents over there, that’s my tribe, the Black Ice Bears! We like to keep the western mountains, you see, and the bears are more common to find than the caribou since they have a more varied diet. A Black Ice Bear Hunter isn’t considered a true hunter until they’ve wrestled a bear and won.”

“The Moon Lion tribe I hail from is right next to them,” Yule gestured. “We take our name from the elusive moon lions of the mountains, who serve as our spirit guides. We are better known for our shamans, who make pilgrimages to seek out the lions for a boon in the form of the moon lion pearl, which is a powerful talisman for our magic staffs and wands. We often ally with the Black Ice Bears for the year on the western mountains.”

“How’d you end up wielding that massive sword, then?” Marstin asked curiously.

“Shamans need physical protection, as well,” Yule smiled softly. “So, anyone without much magical talent picks up the blade to learn the art of the moon sword. I haven’t made much progress yet myself, but someday I too will make a pilgrimage for a moon lion’s tooth or claw to add to my learning and complete it.”

“Where’s your tribe?” Marstin asked Etna.

“Where do you think?” she rolled her eyes and gestured behind her. “Just find the darkest place and that’s where we like to set up. Unlike the furry duo here, my tribe doesn’t have many close alliances unless the tribes are in a state of war. We are usually on our own or with the Glacial Tortoise Tribe along the borders, keeping an eye out for raids. Setting aside my magical ability, most of my tribe’s members have great skill in stealth and information gathering, so they act as the eyes and ears of the tribe. Of course, our preference of the more subtle means of fighting doesn’t earn us too much honor, but very few can match our bowmen and their bows made from ice treant branches, with the string made from the silver serpents that hide in the snow to ambush prey such as the caribou. The slaying of so many silver serpents by raiders in years past has not helped their feelings toward Istutians, as you have seen.”

“And Yarrow’s tribe?” Marstin asked.

“The Frost Wolf tribe is one of the larger tribes,” Etna explained as the group headed toward the central plaza. “They don’t really specialize in a fighting style, if you don’t count breeding, I guess. A joke about their name compares their birth rate to that of wolves, but don’t tell Yarrow I told you that,” she said quickly as Jillia and Yule gave her annoyed looks. “Anyway, the Frost Wolf tribe is one of the few tribes who trade largely with the merchant groups and have many outside connections with the rest of the world, and their fighters are always the first to rush to aid any other tribe under attack, so they’re really well-respected. Olivia and her group are also from the same tribe, actually, so you have seen for yourself their networking ability; it’s about on par with my tribe’s intelligence networking.”

“She did use her connection to me to help guide you, after all,” Marstin agreed. “So, is there anything else to show me?”

“Later,” Yule said. “For now, the sun is setting, and we should find Olivia so you can eat that core during the ceremony. She’ll explain more.”

It didn’t take too long for the group to find Olivia, covered in blood and other things, cleaning herself up near the rapidly dismantled bones of the ice wyvern.

“Good, you’re here,” she greeted the group. “Marstin, follow me.”

“Aren’t you going to finish?” Marstin asked, gesturing to her clothes.

She looked down. “Right, blood. Etna, can you help me clean up real quick?”

“You’ll still need to wash it properly to make sure the smell doesn’t set in,” the younger girl reminded Olivia as she chanted while holding her wand, which Marstin hadn’t previously noticed on her person. A quick moment was all it took for Olivia to look as she had before the hunt, with the dirtying material dropped into a nearby bucket.

“Much better, thank you,” Olivia nodded. “Now, if you please follow me? You girls can go find Yarrow; she saved some of the cartilage and muscle for you to practice dismantling.” The three girls ran off to find the young woman as Olivia led Marstin into a nearby round tent.

As he stepped past the large flap that served as the entrance, he found the same elder waiting for him inside, seated on an ornately carved wood chair. Olivia stood respectfully behind her, arms at her side.

The elder raised her head and smiled at the older teen. Her black hair and intricate tattoos gleamed in the torchlight. “Greetings once again, bearer of the sign of the Hero of Space. You have made yourself quite busy in the time you’ve spent here; it is no wonder so much has become tied to your fate. Your very presence seems to inspire greatness in others.”

Marstin coughed awkwardly, his cheeks reddening, unable to process the . . . compliment? “I’m not that great,” he admitted. “I just seem to be in the right place at the right time sometimes, and I have very good companions.”

“Sometimes, that’s all a great leader needs,” the elder chuckled. “But I digress. I have heard about your circumstances from Olivia and your friends. To be frank, I had been expecting to fight with the other tribal leaders over giving you the core of the ice wyvern. As you call it, a tier 7 monster core is not something that mere silver or gold can value, even with the debt we owe the Hero of Space. To my surprise, it was your actions that allowed Olivia to deliver the killing blow to the beast, thus earning yourself the second highest level of achievements in this hunt and second pick of the spoils. As Olivia forsook the core, it is yours by right, and no one can argue that. You’ve saved me quite a bit of negotiating time, no doubt to the chagrin of those looking forward to getting a deal from me.”

Olivia coughed into her fist subtly, for the whole room to hear.

“Forgive her, she has a poor set of lungs at times,” the elder said without breaking a sweat, though Marstin did notice her twitch her fingers, followed by Olivia letting out a large burp. The older adventurer just barely managed to keep the blush limited to her neck.

“Now, where were we?” the elder muttered. “Right, the core. In a short time, we will begin the first major ceremony of the centennial winter, which translated to your tongue means ‘Transcendence’. It is where we offer the first offering to the winter, Equinox, and the hunter, Normid. As we align our blood to his ceremony, we each experience the strength of winter within ourselves. In plain speak, we get very cold,” she chuckled at Marstin’s look of understanding. “While you cannot participate yourself, I will have Olivia stay with you in this tent during the ceremony. You’ll receive the cold you need while you eat the core, and then some I suppose. She’ll make sure nothing untoward happens to you.”

Marstin nodded his thanks to Olivia, who returned the nod with a smile.

“Now, I must get going,” the elder said as she stood up, grabbing a nearby staff to help her walk. “I’ll see you again after the ceremony is complete.” She left the tent, leaving the two adventurers behind.

“She seems nice,” Marstin observed after a moment of silence.

“You would think that of my mother,” Olivia snorted. “Apparently, she was quite the prankster in her younger days. I say that like I didn’t experience it first-hand, of course.” She rolled her eyes.

“So, what should I expect?” Marstin asked curiously.

“You’ll hear a lot of words you can’t understand, see some glowing lights through the tent, and then get real cold real fast,” Olivia summarized. “Catch.” She threw the palm-sized monster core to Marstin. “Eat it once you see the lights, or it’ll be too late. If we didn’t know you’d be getting hot, we’d have normally taken you outside the ice cavern to avoid the chill. It isn’t something a typical person can survive.” She then examined Marstin’s mouth vs. the size of the core. “You sure you’ll be able to eat that?”

“It’ll get smaller once I get my mouth around it,” Marstin reassured her. “I’ve done this before.”

Olivia shrugged, and the two made themselves comfortable in the tent as they waited.

“Thanks for being here with me,” Marstin said a while later.

“No problem,” Olivia patted his head. “I was the one who caught you, remember? Our fates have been intertwined ever since. I truly felt anger after I heard about the incident with Ghevin Drestice, and I apologize I wasn’t there to help you handle things.” She was quiet for a moment. “I’ve wanted to apologize, but I could never find the right moment between the jobs we took, and then I had to come back for the winter.”

“There isn’t anything to apologize for,” Marstin shrugged. “You know, the guild master said almost the same thing, but that’s just how things were. We can’t always be there at the right place at the right time.”

“Except you, right?’ Olivia teased.

Marstin looked down at the covered floor. “Right, except me. The lucky one.”

They stayed silent as sounds of the crowd outside increased. “I find this place to be very nice,” Marstin suddenly spoke up. “People look out for each other, have friendships and rivalries, but most of all a common cause to unite around. I thought Graniton was like that, too, until that day. I don’t recall the last time I tried to talk to anyone new in Graniton; or ate out at a café or restaurant, or shopped anywhere besides the depot. It isn’t home, and I guess it never truly was. There is no home for an orphan like me, is how it felt.”

“Feel any different now?” Olivia asked, giving Marstin a sideways look.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But, maybe I should give the town another chance. Iora was. . . dirty, despite its white stone and stained glass. I felt like I was living in a cage of expectation, and anyone interested in me only did so with selfish intent. I mean, it was the same in Graniton, but I felt more like a potential customer or friend than a game piece, or a piece of meat.”

“We all find our place in the world somehow,” Olivia said wisely. “And sometimes, that means seeing what you’re missing, and seeing what you’ve lost. At the very least, you have not lost anything, right?”

“Yeah,” Marstin agreed, nodding. “I suppose that’s right. . .”

‘But a family sure would be nice.’

It wasn’t long after that the noise from the crowd vanished and was followed by the loud chanting and orating of various people one after the other, though Marstin didn’t understand a word. But, he could already feel a chill in the air with each word said and each cry uttered.

“Get ready,” Olivia cautioned Marstin.

As she said it, Marstin saw blue, white, and yellow lights begin to shine through the tent’s walls. He lifted the core up to his mouth and pushed it in. As he'd been expecting, the core rapidly dissolved with contact to his mouth and became easily swallowable. He smacked his lips, noting the cool, earthy taste, like mushroom-marinated beef.

He burped suddenly, then coughed, and he groaned as his stomach pulsed with a familiar energy. Unlike the vial he’d drunk before, however, this time his stomach felt like a fire had been lit within, which was rapidly spreading through his body. A glance down revealed his veins had begun to glow under his skin. Next to him, Olivia sat at attention, ready to react if needed.

But as his body burned, he simultaneously felt the chill in the air drop to frigid levels. A wind began to blow outside in the cavern, driving the temperature even lower. Marstin found himself caught between inner burning and outer freezing; one of the most direly uncomfortable, and painful, things he’d ever experienced. He let out another groan and kept his screams hidden.

“The glowing is moving toward your head,” Olivia warned him.

He didn’t need her to tell him; he could feel the burning slowly, agonizingly, moving up his chest to his neck. When it reached his head, Marstin felt his body vibrate and convulse as if he were being submerged into liquid fire while being chilled, much like the process of making a blade via a blacksmith.

And then it reached his brain.

He wasn’t sure if he was screaming, or if the wind outside was screaming. It didn’t matter anymore. The pain in his head screamed, he screamed, the wind screamed; everything seemed to be screaming. And one more.

“What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!”

And finally, Marstin welcomed the black abyss of unconsciousness.

Chapter 38

“Doesn’t Marstin know what he’s doing? It’s like he’s deliberately trying to kill himself,” Progen said exasperatingly.

Doubtful. The host does not seem to understand that the power he is tapping into will ultimately kill him.

The dungeon crystal still didn’t think that forcibly unsealing the Blood Curse from the brain was the best idea, but it also seemed like the only way to get rid of two problems at once: The foreign dungeon mana that was powering the creation of the Bloody Horned Skulls, and the Blood Curse itself. Taking on a tier 7 ice wyvern, however, wasn’t something Progen could condone.

What made it worse was that Marstin tapped into the Curse again, through some sort of unknown means, and combined its power with his own mana. The resulting purplish energy swarming over his body had enhanced his capabilities to the point where even the dungeon crystal was amazed -- but there was a price. There was always a price, especially when dealing with the Blood Curse.

The damage to Marstin’s insides as a result of the purple-colored aura was so great that Progen was forced to work triage to keep his dungeon from dying completely. Repairing most of the internal organs after the aura faded was the best that he had been able to accomplish by the time Marstin was brought back to the ice caverns where some sort of tribal people were living -- along with heating up the body enough that it didn’t succumb from the cold. That process had gotten easier as he obtained more practice, but it was still draining his mana to maintain the body in a living state.

If that was it, his near-brush with death wouldn’t have been that bad -- Progen had seen worse, though it was fairly bad, nonetheless. No, it was the fact that the Blood Curse seemed to be strengthened by the unfettered access to the body; and while it was still hiding up in the brain, it positively thrummed with powerful malevolence.

Of course, now was not the time to unleash something that had just been energized, but there was very little that Progen could do to change that.

Thankfully, the healing he hadn’t gotten to yet in Marstin’s body, rendering him essentially paralyzed, was finished off by some magic-wielding members of the tribal people. All of which led to his dungeon sitting in a tent, holding a tier 7 ice wyvern monster core in his hands. Before Progen could do anything to prevent it -- not that he technically could -- Marstin popped the core into his mouth, where it shrunk down and dissolved into the stomach.

Progen braced for any type of reaction, but was totally unprepared for nothing to happen. He supposed that it made sense, though, because it was just a monster core; a much more powerful core than he was used to seeing, but it was only a matter of taking longer to break down and direct the potent energy within the body. Unlike the last time Marstin had swallowed a core, this one wasn’t altered and “tainted” by other alchemical processes, so there was no adverse reaction.

At least, not until Progen remembered that there was something else that was supposed to work in conjunction with the monster core.

The “Transcendence” ceremony mentioned before seems to be starting. Waves of frigid cold are radiating through the space around the host, and the monster core is heating up the body in response.

Progen could indeed see that something was happening, as the remnants of the ice wyvern monster core were pulsing in time with the waves of cold, and the body was starting to increase in internal temperature. Soon enough, unlikely to be noticed by Marstin, many of the hairs along the entire integumentary system started to rise from the powerful energy that seemed to come with the cold.

That raising of the hairs along our host’s body is called a piloerection reflex. It is the subconscious reaction to external stimuli, though it is usually precipitated by a release of adrenaline due to fear. This, on the other hand, appears to be in reaction to the energy originating from this ceremony. Curious.

What Stemmy found curious was of no real importance to Progen, because there was suddenly a wave of powerful energy that washed over the body. At this point, Progen was beyond wanting the seal to be broken up in the brain, allowing the Curse free. The stress of being bombarded by magical energy that was not his own was affecting his whole outlook on the situation, and it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming ineffectually to Marstin to flee.

Some of his tension must have imparted itself, because the body started releasing adrenaline hormones in the thousands. Marstin’s heart rate sped up, blood flow increased, and muscle tissue tightened. The reactions in the bloodstream suddenly increased the Bloody Horned Skull’s presence, as after a few minutes of being in the tent, Progen was suddenly confronted by 6 different groups of constructed monsters at the same time. Luckily, Progen had enough Newts in his rebuilt forces to easily overwhelm the 2 groups that weren’t able to be directed toward the defensive positions.

That would’ve been fine, except that the Skulls didn’t stop appearing.

They may be feeding off of the ambient magical essence that is starting to infuse your dungeon.

Progen had peripherally noticed that the energy outside was starting to seep into the integumentary system surrounding the body; it wasn’t overriding his own influence, but it was making it difficult to fully perceive what was going on. At some point it stopped intruding into his dungeon, either because it had hit its limit of how far it would go, or something about his own presence was holding it off.

Before too long, Progen was forced to direct 3 different groups of Skulls – which were thankfully small – to the heart, where the traps he had placed there were used to great effect. Scores of Compression traps, a dozen Mineral Barrages, 4 different sections with Hormonal Misdirections, and a little over 60 Bladed Hexapus creatures made up the expansive defense. It worked exactly how he had planned it to work, but it didn’t seem to matter—the Skulls kept coming.

The death of so many monsters in his dungeon allowed him to start building a massive Hexapus army, however. Adding dozens of them to each defensive position was just the beginning – and they were needed to keep up with the demand; apart from that, he started forming a separate mobile force that soon numbered over 100 and continued to grow as time went on.

As many of the traps in each defensive section were still regenerating after being used, he was also forced to create even more traps, producing a second layer of similar further defenses up the blood vessel, minus the Hexapus force which stayed at the very end. Adapting what he had recently learned about manipulating his traps, he developed a much larger Compression trap than before, reducing the strength of it at the same time; it worked less effectively than he had hoped, squishing and destroying only about 50% more cells in each Skull that passed through it, despite being twice the size. Still, it was an improvement for the exact same cost.

He also combined two different traps, which cost just a little bit more than one alone. Taking the Strangling Villi that grasped and pulled the Skulls into the Pepsin Acid Pits, he pictured a very low power Shocking Discharge effect surrounding each of the Villi, before putting it into effect. He had noticed that at least 1 (sometimes as many as 3 or 4) of the red blood cell-constructed monsters managed to escape their grasp before they could be fully destroyed; so, rather than spend a whole lot more on making them even more powerful, he figured he would try a different solution.

It worked. The powerful discharge, which could’ve been disruptive to the circulatory system if it were released within the bloodstream, was reduced down to no more than a localized jolt. That jolt didn’t travel very far – but it didn’t need to, because it was transferred directly into the Skulls, traveling through the entire matrix upon contact with the Villi. It did absolutely no damage, though it did cause the monster to be paralyzed into immobility. The effect lasted for no more than a second or two, but that was more than enough time for the rest of the Villi to grasp hold and drag it down into the Pit without giving it much of a chance to fight back.

Progen didn’t have any other opportunities to experiment, because new Skulls seemed to pop up everywhere. The dungeon crystal was frantically trying to direct each new group that cropped up into the nearest defensive position, or else overwhelming them with the nearest swarm of Newts, or siccing the new Hexapus army upon them. It was a chaotic, seemingly never-ending battle that only became more intense as the minutes wore on.

Bloody Horned Skulls were dying by the dozens every few seconds, imparting thousands of mana upon their death to Progen’s crystal; he, in turn, spent it to replace the hundreds of Newts being destroyed every few seconds, as well as healing and replacing damaged Hexapus creatures. Whatever was left over went toward producing more defenses and defenders, but at the moment he was too consumed with keeping everything together to concentrate too much on expansion.

He was so busy, in fact, that he began to forget why it was all happening in the first place…at least until Stemmy got his attention.

Progen! Progen!

It took him a moment to pull himself away from the constant defense of the circulatory system to answer distractedly, “Yes? What is it? I’m busy, if you hadn’t not—”

The monster core in the stomach seems to be reacting.

“That’s not good,” he responded quickly, sparing a glance at the stomach. An intense glow started to erupt, so bright and strong it could probably be seen outside of the body. There was nothing he could do about it, however, so he turned back to the bloodstream conflict within the body. The battles between the Skulls and his defenses also seemed to have ramped up in number and frequency.

At this rate, Marstin is going to run out of blood in an hour or so. Despite the trillions of red blood vessels in the body, with more being created in the marrow all of the time, millions of the vital cells were being destroyed every second. Not only were hundreds of thousands of them corralled into forming the Skulls, but in order to grow in size to become large enough to cause a problem, each monster was consuming tens of thousands of red blood cells. Random, infrequent attacks didn’t make much difference to the overall total because they were replaced just as quickly by the body, but the current rate of attrition was unsustainable for long periods of time.

The next few minutes were a frenzied blur as Progen attempted to keep everything under control. It was starting to become nearly impossible, however; as soon as he would move one group of Skulls, another 2 would suddenly appear nearby, and the blockages in the vessels were becoming a problem. Three separate times, an entire artery was blocked off entirely, causing a swelling and stretching of the blood vessel before Progen’s Hexapus army came to the rescue. Some pain was inflicted upon Marstin as two of the vessels were stretched so far that they burst, but the influx of mana was such that he was able to repair everything within a matter of seconds.

The one bright side of everything, if there was one, was that as soon as the Bloody Horned Skulls left the bloodstream, their extracellular matrices seemed to dissipate and they fell apart. It was almost as if the magical essence that infused the circulatory system was the only thing keeping them intact, which was a thought that Progen filed away for another time.

The situation was worsening by the second, however. The pressure of the magical energy pressing in from outside – which was somehow powering the emergence of more monsters in the bloodstream – seemed to increase in intensity. Eventually, something reached a breaking point with the monster core reaction in the stomach, and Progen watched as the glow seemed to drift upwards, aiming straight for Marstin’s head.

Progen didn’t even get a chance to prepare before the glowing energy reaction hit the barrier and it disappeared in a blinding flash of some insubstantial force that hit his dungeon so hard that Progen’s mind couldn’t handle it. His scream was choked off even as a complete lack of perception descended over his crystal.

Chapter 39

Waking up from the sudden loss of consciousness was a unique experience, unmatched by anything Progen had experienced before. Even the feelings of being tired and mood swings he had experienced early on with Stemmy’s memories filling his mind – before it was transferred to the interneuron cell – couldn’t compare to a complete lack of awareness of his surroundings. Thankfully, the process of the world coming back into focus wasn’t a sudden one; otherwise, he probably would’ve been overwhelmed immediately.

The area where his dungeon crystal was located, the appendix, came into focus first. From what he could tell, everything seemed to be normal, and his crystal appeared intact without any visible damage, nor did he feel like anything had affected his actual form. Stemmy was still in a cluster of interneuron cells nearby, and he reached out while his awareness spread out slowly from the appendix and into the lower digestive system.

“Stemmy? Are you okay? What happened?”

My cells received no damage, but I am unsure what happened. Signals coming from the nervous system are a bit scattered right now and are thoroughly unintelligible.

That didn’t bode well for the state of the body, but it was too soon to judge how much had gone wrong. As Progen’s awareness spread, he connected with the first of his immune cell scouting groups located in the small intestine. Their reconnection produced a small jolt of satisfaction in his crystal, which was suddenly cut off when he came to the realization that none of the other immune cells he had created were within reach. In fact, he couldn’t even tell that they existed – if they still did, in fact.

Thankfully, the more he spread through the digestive system, the more groups of his immune cells he encountered, feeling like he was greeting long-lost friends that he didn’t know he had missed. Strangely enough, his awareness continued up the body, finishing off the digestive system before it carried over into the respiratory system, completely bypassing anything adjacent – like the nearby circulatory or peripheral nervous systems – even though they were closer to his crystal.

All of his traps were still present in the respiratory system, as well as the 40,000 Newts he had available to assist with pathogen eradication. More of his scouting groups were gathered back into his forces as they were recognized, and a quick perusal of the body seemed to show no outward issues.

He was expecting to focus on the circulatory system after that, since it had been the next system through which he had spread his influence, but instead it started going through the muscular and integumentary systems, followed by the skeletal and reproductive systems. Again, everything seemed fine, though he quickly learned that Marstin was lying down somewhere, apparently either resting or sleeping, which was probably best for everyone.

Once those were all checked out without any overt problems making themselves known, Progen was starting to feel like himself again. The skeletal system was quickly followed by the peripheral nervous system, leading to the spinal column and up to the brain—

“Stemmy! The barrier is gone!” he shouted excitedly. It took him a few seconds for it to register fully in his mind, but the glowing shield that had prevented him from entering the brain was entirely absent. He wanted to start spreading his influence immediately through the nerve strands leading into the coveted area, but his mana wasn’t responding correctly.

Your mana is temporarily inaccessible for some reason. In addition, my communication with the nervous system is rather limited, though some of the signals are starting to clear up.

That wasn’t good and had never happened before. Yes, his regeneration had been shut down during a few different periods when it would be harmful to the body if he continued to pull in life force, but actually using his available mana had never been a problem. Progen wasn’t too concerned about it, though, because he had a feeling that it would be available as soon as he completed his awakening of all the body’s systems he had access to.

Which was happening quite quickly now that the different sense systems were back to normalcy within his awareness, followed by the start of the circulatory system. It was then that things appeared in a bit rougher shape than the rest of the body.

“There are tears in many of these blood vessels; they are rather shallow, so I’ll be able to fix them as soon as I can manipulate my mana again, but that’s not the biggest problem,” Progen informed Stemmy, mounting horror falling over him as he saw the state of affairs. “There are Bloody Horned Skulls everywhere, and they don’t appear the same as they were before.”

His defensive positions were actively in use at the moment, which told the dungeon crystal that he had been out of it for long enough that the traps had re-armed. They were holding, but just barely; the Skulls weren’t as numerous as he remembered from just before he lost consciousness, though that wasn’t really his concern. His horror came from the fact that, as far as he could tell within the first few seconds of observing them, that they were losing whatever minds they previously seemed to possess.

They were ramming into blood vessel walls, each other, and slamming into defenses without a care; that would’ve been beneficial, except for the fact that they were unpredictable. None of them seemed to follow the Stem cells (which Progen was still able to control, thankfully, even if he couldn’t produce more right now) into the traps, and any instinct they had before was gone. There were no more blockages, mercifully, because they weren’t organized enough to coordinate like that; for all of that, though, they were doing more damage by intentionally or unintentionally grazing the blood vessel walls with their horns than ever before.

In essence, it was pure chaos.

Left unchecked, and without Progen able to use his mana to heal the tears in the walls, his dungeon would be torn apart from the inside. What worried him even more was that the magical effect that had been inside of the bloodstream for nearly a week was still there, meaning that even more of the crazy Skulls would crop up, adding to the maelstrom of havoc raging through the circulatory system.

The lack of coordination turned out to be a blessing in terms of hunting down the Skulls with his force of Hexapus creatures, however. As soon as he located his army of multi-celled organisms, he had them start wiping out any Skulls they came across as they passed through the femoral artery; normally, when his forces attacked a single red blood cell-constructed monster, all of the others in the vicinity joined in on the counter attack. Rather than that happening now, only the single Skull defended itself – the others nearby were so far in their own disjointed worlds that they didn’t seem to care.

Again, that sounded beneficial when looked at objectively, but subjectively it was bad. For one, the Skulls were everywhere, randomly scattered and not in groups. This made it harder to wipe them out because each one had to be located and hunted down, which was a chore in and of itself. Secondly, the groups that had previously spawned randomly were much faster to eliminate, despite the attrition in her own defenses. With the way it was right now, by the time Progen’s Hexapus army hunted down 100 of the Skulls, another 100 would spring up somewhere else.

Progress of his expanding awareness as it passed through the circulatory system was slow, probably due to the raging battles everywhere; regardless, he eventually regained his influence, along with the excretory, lymphatic, and endocrine systems. As soon as the last kidney was fully immersed back into his dungeon, Progen felt a shift inside his crystal.

“It’s back!” he shouted in relief, feeling the mana running through his form which was now within his capabilities to manipulate. “It’s time to start thinning these things out and get a handle on them.”

Without waiting any longer, Progen created dozens of Hexapi, sending them into the bloodstream in different areas to start hunting for Skulls. He sent them in pairs, as that seemed to be the most effective solution to tag-teaming the monsters without suffering too much in the way of reprisal. Once that was done, he fixed up all of the damaged multi-celled defenders, throwing them back into the fight.

The mana was still quite plentiful through the body, however; without being able to gather up all of the life force from the dying Skulls when he wasn’t able to manipulate mana, it hung around until it was ready to be used. Some of it was lost as it was absorbed into the host body, but most of it was able to be scooped up and used for repairing the multitude of small tears throughout the circulatory system. Before too long, the body was back to being fully healthy and undamaged – other than what was still occurring as the Bloody Horned Skulls continued to float around in spastic displays of incoordination.

Minutes wore on and Progen could see that his forces were very slowly starting to thin out the numbers of monsters floating around causing trouble. At the rate it was going, though, it was going to take days to get them to an acceptable level.

I have reestablished communication with the nervous system, and there seems to be no lasting damage. However, there will soon be a problem with identifying where these Skulls are located. Right now, they are so plentiful that you have no issue in finding some to hunt down and destroy; once they thin out and they continue their current behavior, there won’t be any blockages that will help to pinpoint their whereabouts until they become much, much larger.

The dungeon crystal hadn’t thought of that, but Stemmy had a point. It was impossible to predict where they would show up, after all, and when they stopped working together to block off a blood vessel, it would be extremely hard to hunt them down before they became a major problem. As in, a huge problem; he could only imagine how big they could get if they were missed for hours or days, where they would be able to feed on red blood cells. For all he knew, they could potentially become large enough to block an artery all by themselves.

The problem was that locating such monsters within the trillions of red blood cells was already difficult, and it would only become more so as time went on. He had no way of detecting them unless they caused enough problems that the body was alerted, because nothing could detect the magical force that was constructing them in the first place.

Progen inadvertently caught a glimpse of one of the Magic Amplifiers that still dotted the body, alert for any other magical incursions. Only one of them had been destroyed when the magic was first identified, and the others were still there, just…waiting. The dungeon crystal had largely ignored them after they had acted as amplifiers, mainly because they didn’t seem to be doing any harm, and getting rid of one showed no evidence that they were involved in keeping the magical essence inside the circulatory system active. But his glimpse of the Amplifier made him curious why the Skulls weren’t being highlighted in his vision like the entire magical effect was; it also made him wonder why he didn’t think of using some of the unique aspects of the Arcanaphil cell for other purposes.

“What is it that the Magic Amplifier does that allows it to identify magic-based sources?” he mused to himself. If he could figure it out, then perhaps it could be turned toward hunting down the elusive Bloody Horned Skulls.

From all that you’ve described, it sounds as though it creates a resonance with a foreign magical essence that is displayed to your crystal. How that is accomplished is unknown, however.

“A resonance, huh? I guess that fits in with its ability to act as an amplifier, but how do I turn it toward other means?” He pondered the question for a while, not finding any immediate answers. The problem was that the Bloody Horned Skulls likely gave off the same sort of resonance as the rest of the magical essence, so it was all the same to the Magic Amplifiers. Unless there was some way to change the resonance of the constructed monsters, then—

“That’s it! At least, I think it is….”

Changing the resonance of a particular cluster of red blood cells is not impossible, but it will take specialized components.

Stemmy reading his thoughts like that was sometimes annoying, but for the moment it was a blessing. The validation of his idea was enough to let him know it could potentially work – now all he had to do was figure it out.

With his assistant’s help, Progen took all that he had learned over the last year about the immune system, his immune cells, and about how they identified threats that needed to be eliminated. Their combined knowledge worked together to produce something that he’d never have thought possible when he had first started out influencing the body to convert into his dungeon.

First, he took a Shadow Hunter mutation – which was a combination of a Hunter and the Insidious Virus – and mutated it with a Reporter. The resulting mutation, which he named a Shadow Seeker after the Seeker mutation, would be able to locate a specific target and then pump it full of poisonous molecules. However, it wasn’t quite smart enough to hunt down the Bloody Horned Skulls because they were so much like the rest of the red blood cells in the body.

That changed when he combined the Shadow Seeker mutation with a Commander, as he infused it with the same parameters that the Hexapus mutation used, allowing it to only target red blood cells that were contained within an extracellular matrix. That way it was easily able to hunt down and find the Skulls that rampaged through the circulatory system. He called this new mutation an Elite Shadow Seeker.

But wait – that wasn’t all.

While poisoning the red blood cells that were commandeered to form the constructed monsters was an option with his new Elite Shadow Seeker, there were two reasons why that wouldn’t be the best idea. The first was that poisoning the cells, which would obviously kill them, could potentially result in the poison spreading to other, healthy cells as the red blood cells fell apart and scattered their insides all over the bloodstream. It was like contaminating a river with a poison that would kill all of the crocodiles; when they died, their remains would stay contaminated, and all of the nearby fish would come in contact with it. They might not deliberately eat the poison, but chances were that they would be affected by it, nonetheless.

Secondly, the small size of the Elite Shadow Seekers meant that it would take thousands or even tens of thousands of them to take down a single Skull. While he was hoping to create hundreds of thousands of these immune cells to spread throughout the entire bloodstream, it would be an unnecessary waste of resources. It was doubly so when he thought about how easy it would be for the monstrous construct to consume additional red blood cells nearby to replace the ones along its exterior that were being ravaged by poison. If the process worked as quickly as he’d seen before, then it would be a running battle as to whether or not the poison would win out in the end.

That was where his thought about changing the resonance of the magic animating the Bloody Horned Skulls came in. Merging an Elite Shadow Seeker with a Magic Amplifier, Progen changed the poison that was expelled out of the immune cell into its target into one that was made from pure dungeon mana. This was also the reason why he went through many versions of his eventual result through the use of combination mutations rather than through Progenitors; the Magic Amplifier apparently didn’t qualify as either a Myceloid or a Lymphoid cell, which he didn’t find out until he was trying to create his idea using the special custom immune cells.

The result: An immune cell that would target red blood cells, organized within an extracellular matrix, and inject those target cells with a molecule that would introduce dungeon mana strong enough to alter the magical resonance within the cell, which would then allow the Magic Amplifiers to recognize and pinpoint all of them throughout the body. It was a complicated project, but from everything he could tell, it would work.

It should do something, at least.

That wasn’t the best vote of confidence from Stemmy, but it would do. Creating one of his new Skull Trackers for a total of 700 mana – a hefty price for such a small immune cell – he placed it next to a stem cell, where it entered and immediately started to replicate itself. Within a minute, the Stem cell burst apart, revealing a little short of 100 new Trackers – who each went into another Stem cell that Progen had waiting nearby.

In less than 2 minutes, his single Skull Tracker had multiplied into just under 10,000; it was time to test them out. Sending them forth into the bloodstream after spending another 10 mana to levitate them for easier movement, the sleek, oval-shaped cells sped forward, agilely maneuvering through the red blood cells as if they weren’t even there. The long, hollow flagella on their front sections flopped around limply as they sped through the plasma, hunting their prey. It didn’t take them long before they located a Skull, bashing its horns into the artery wall; as soon as it was spotted, thousands of flagella straightened out into a point like a needle, before their owners rammed them into the side of the Skull – who seemed not to even notice being impaled by thousands of tiny immune cells.

The mana-infused molecules were quickly pumped inside of the red blood cells, before the Trackers detached, floating absently away as it was spent after delivering its payload. Seconds later, those that had detached died, falling apart into components; they were unfortunately only single-use.

As for the Skull, nothing seemed to have affected it at first, but soon enough Progen could perceive a stretching of the matrix surrounding the red blood cells, as if the cells were growing. In reality, they were enhanced by the mana having been injected inside of them; what it ultimately meant was still a mystery. Other than that, nothing else was changed.

Until Progen brought a Magic Amplifier that was close by near the Skull, where it immediately rammed into the back side of the monster and disappeared with a flash of light. The familiar magical wave that erupted ran through the entire body, but it only highlighted a single thing: the Skull that it had touched. The glow was a light green color, easily distinguishable from everything else that was glowing, and Progen immediately sent a pair of nearby Hexapus creatures in to attack.

They made short work of the distracted Bloody Horned Skull, though the cells that had been affected by the enhancement of mana appeared to be a little bit tougher to puncture than normal – but it was nothing that the Bladed organisms couldn’t handle. With that Skull dead, any of the light green glow disappeared; it was then that he knew he would have to periodically use one of his Magic Amplifiers to reveal the Skulls that had their resonances changed, but it was a very small price to pay.

The experiment a success, Progen started to mass-produce the Skull Trackers, sending out tens of thousands of them over the next 30 minutes, where they would find and inject their contents into any Skulls that they found. After those 30 minutes were done, he used another Magic Sniffer to get close to one of the Skulls – and over 300 of the Skulls were lit up! Some were so small that he caught his first glimpse of what they looked like when they were in their infancy, and he knew that his plan was definitely a success as the pairings of Hexapus’ and squads of Newts to overwhelm and eliminate them as soon as possible.

It was only when he continued to absently create more of the Trackers that his mind wandered a little bit. Just like it had over the last few months, it wandered to the brain – which he just remembered was now open! The excitement of reaching out and extending his influence through it was tempered by the emergence of another thought.

“Stemmy? What happened to the Blood Curse?”

Chapter 40

The morale-lifting elation of discovering that the area around the brain seemed empty of the Blood Curse was beaten down by the sudden feeling of danger. It wasn’t something location-specific, but when he concentrated on it, Progen could tell exactly what it was: the threatening miasma of the Curse. He couldn’t tell where it was, other than not being present in the brain anymore, though it was nonetheless present everywhere. The dungeon crystal couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from; the fact that it was there somewhere was more than a little worrying, because of one simple truth.

The ceremony had worked to open up the cage and let out the homicidal entity.

Progen was suddenly paranoid and expecting its malevolent presence to crash down on him at any moment. What exactly it would do now that it was free of its restraints, he barely wanted to contemplate…but he did, extensively, over the next hour as the Skulls were slowly located and eradicated. It was slow work because there were just so many of them – thousands or even tens of thousands by that point, all wandering around aimlessly – that it was easy enough to miss some down a random artery or in an out-of-the-way section of bone marrow.

“Do you think this is the Blood Curse’s doing? The way these Skulls changed the way they acted?”

It is possible, though I consider it unlikely. Historically, everything the Curse has done has been with a plan; the way these monsters act, it is clear that there is no plan. Either the Blood Curse is waiting to strike when you least expect it, or it was affected as much or more than you were when you lost consciousness.

“I hope it’s the latter, in all honesty.” It still meant that he needed to watch out in the future when it recovered, of course, but hopefully by that time he would be better able to defend himself and the body. Either way, he was planning on staying on his guard until he figured out exactly where the Blood Curse went.

In the meantime, while the hunt for Bloody Horned Skulls continued, Progen started to extend his influence into the brain. The remaining blood vessels leading into the previously closed-off section of the body soaked up his mana like a sponge, allowing him to progress quite quickly to complete the circulatory system. In less than an hour, in fact, the influencing of the blood vessels was complete, and he was able to get a better look at everything inside the brain. As he had thought and felt, the Blood Curse was no longer present, but a stain of sorts was left behind in its absence.

“It feels very strange, Stemmy,” Progen tried to explain the feeling. “I think the Blood Curse was up here for so long that its sheer presence somehow affected the area, even if it didn’t do anything directly to Marstin’s brain.” It was a strong haze that seemed to cover everything, though his influence seemed to push it back – at least in the circulatory system. Finishing up the endocrine system was just as easy and quick when he spread his influence through the hypothalamus and pineal glands, but the nervous system – which made up the majority of the brain, was something else entirely.

The “stain” left behind by the Blood Curse was fighting the spread of his influence tooth-and-nail. Whereas the rest of the systems leading into the brain had been rather quick and straightforward, making progress through the central nervous system was like pushing a giant boulder uphill; it could be done, but it required a lot of effort. As the first sections of the brain, including the brain stem and the cerebellum were enveloped with his mana, he could sense the Curse’s stain start to dissipate – though it didn’t seem to fade away completely. Instead, it was as if it had been picked apart and spread to the winds, dismantled and broken down from its former consistency. Whatever it was that happened, the result was that it didn’t have nearly as much strength as it had previously possessed and couldn’t fight his influence anymore.

Meanwhile, the fight against the Bloody Horned Skulls was going well, and over the next 5 hours the number of constructed monsters throughout the blood vessels had fallen significantly. It was obviously going to continue being an ongoing process, but it was being handled.

From what I can assess, the number of monsters floating around the arteries is reaching acceptable levels. It appears as though the immediate danger has passed, and the previous signs of approaching anemia have resolved themselves.

“Anemia?” Stemmy hadn’t mentioned anything about…whatever anemia was.

The reduction in red blood cells from the constant attacks over the last day had reduced the amount of oxygen being transferred to cells around the body, resulting in the weakening of muscle tissue and temperature regulation through the extremities. I hadn’t reported these anemic responses because you were already fighting to correct the problem.

“Ah, I see. I appreciate that.” Adding other worries on top of what was already going on was definitely not something he had needed at the time, so Progen really did appreciate Stemmy keeping those problems to himself.

It took a full 48 hours of constant pressure against the stain inside of the central nervous system to finally influence the entire brain. It was complicated by a sudden resurgence in the Bloody Horned Skulls’ appearance by an external application of magic about 24 hours into the process, however.

Auditory senses have detected concern over our host’s current state of unconsciousness. I believe they are attempting to either wake him up or heal whatever was done to him, though it is unlikely to work.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Stemmy—”

A sudden flash of magical power infused Marstin’s body, a bright white light that healed the few tears in the blood vessels that Progen hadn’t had a chance to fix quite yet. Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing to the Bloody Horned Skulls already in the bloodstream, which made sense; just like the body’s own immune system couldn’t recognize the Skulls as hostile invaders, neither could the healing spell.

The spell also didn’t seem to be able to wake Marstin up from his forced unconsciousness. Neither Stemmy nor Progen knew exactly why their host hadn’t woken up yet after collapsing from the same magical effect that made his crystal lose awareness, though Progen wasn’t complaining. The lack of physical activity had led to a slower heartbeat, which in turn allowed the dungeon crystal to better search out monsters with his Skull Trackers. Still, it was worrisome that he hadn’t woken up yet – especially since he’d had a healing spell worked over him in order to fix anything wrong that Progen hadn’t identified.

What the spell did do was add some power to the magical effect inside of the circulatory system that was creating the Skulls in the first place. Within 15 minutes, the number of red blood cell-constructed monsters wreaking havoc throughout the bloodstream had increased to pre-unconsciousness levels. The sudden boom in enemies floating around caught Progen by surprise; there was a rupture in one of the smaller arteries near the palmar arch defensive section that he was unable to prevent, as the horns from nearly 100 Skulls inadvertently tore through the tissue cells, resulting in a major leakage. It was so bad that it wiped out half of his traps that had been in place as cascading failure of the blood vessel occurred, and it took quite a bit of incoming mana on Progen’s part to repair the damage.

The individuals that conducted the healing seem to have realized that their efforts did more harm than good. It sounds as if they are going to wait to see if our host will wake up on his own.

“That’s good to hear, but that doesn’t help the situation right now!” he yelled distractedly. The repair to the artery was the least of his problems, because the surge in Skulls required most of his attention and mana throughout half of the circulatory system. He barely managed to prevent a dozen other ruptures from occurring, and after a while Progen could tell that the density of red blood vessels was thinning out again.

“I’m guessing this is what you meant by anemia?” The heartbeat started becoming slightly erratic, and there was minimal cell death in some parts of Marstin’s fingers and toes from lack of oxygen, though it wasn’t as severe as frostbite. Progen was able to replace the dead cells, at least; the heart was another matter.

Affirmative. If you can get the situation with the invaders under control, the problem should regulate itself over time. Estimates put red blood cell loss over the last day at nearly 8 trillion, about a quarter of the total number of red blood cells. That number is roughly equivalent to Marstin losing 2 to 3 pints of blood, which is enough to make most normal adults start to become weak and potentially lose consciousness.

“Do you think this is why he isn’t waking up?”

Not at first, though it is probably a contributing factor at the moment. Given enough time and a lessening of the attrition in the red blood cells, our host will recover eventually. Nearly 200 billion red blood cells are produced every second, and if Marstin wakes up and is able to consume enough iron-rich red meat, that production will increase.

“The emphasis there is on if he wakes up,” Progen said dejectedly, after receiving a much better understanding of what was going on.

There wasn’t anything else that the dungeon crystal could do, though, other than continue to hunt down and battle the Skulls. Thankfully, after the initial surge brought on by the healing spell, the number of new Skulls popping up dropped dramatically – though there were still thousands or tens of thousands of monsters still wandering around, causing all sorts of destruction and problems for the body.

Another 10 hours of constant and focused fighting brought numbers down to “acceptable levels”; what was acceptable for Progen was a net increase in red blood cells every minute, even if it was only a few thousand. Over time, even those few thousand every minute would replace what was lost, as long as the dungeon crystal stayed vigilant.

So that was why his progress in extending his influence through the brain had taken so long, when it should’ve been done in half the time. Finally, after just over 2 days of spreading his mana inside of the organ, he arrived at the last section of the brain, after infiltrating the temporal, occipital, parietal, and frontal lobes (which he had Stemmy to thank for naming them all).

It had been a journey of hard-fought ground, but it hadn’t been unpleasant. With each section he influenced, he was amazed at how many neurons existed within every little part of the brain, and how almost all of them seemed to be communicating with each other constantly.

The hippocampus inside of the temporal lobe is being used the most extensively at the moment; all of the other parts of the brain that are responsible for regulating the different body systems are operating normally, though at a much lower capacity because of our host’s unconsciousness.

Progen was amazed at what he saw, because it was such a change compared to the rest of the body. Every other system over which he had previously attained influence was subject to the whims of the brain and central nervous system, so he had only been able to see the end results of decisions being made. Now it was as if he was afforded the chance to witness the origin of everything, with the secrets of what made this body work there for the taking.

“Why is the hippo thingy so active right now?”

The hippocampus is responsible for the brain’s ability to remember, imagine, and dream. The host is obviously asleep rather than being entirely unconscious, so his mind is dreaming.

Progen thought it ironic that he and the body had something in common: Dreams. While Marstin was busy dreaming, the dungeon crystal was fulfilling his own dream of taking control of the body. It wouldn’t be long now before he was in full control, and he would be able to do whatever he wanted. There was just one last section to tackle and it would be his. That Blood Curse better watch out, because I will find it and crush it when I gain control.

“Stemmy? What is this last section of the brain? It seems more difficult than the others.” Pushing his mana inside the small section deep inside the brain was hard, as if he was pushing against something flexible and inflexible at the same time. He was making incremental progress, of course, but it was at least 10 times more difficult than any other section thus far. What was even stranger was that he didn’t feel as though it was the stain of the Blood Curse fighting him, but something more…volatile. Even before Stemmy answered, however, Progen had an inkling of what is what he was looking at.

That is the auraloid gland. In all people, there is a special gland inside of the brain that controls and regulates the inherent magical potential they possess. Many are not able to access this portion of their brain at all, either because it is not fully developed or it is not strong enough to manifest in any way. Others tap into this gland through practice, training their mind to use the mana within their body through the use of tomes, spells, glyphs, hexes, outside influences, or technology. However, there is one type of magic user that does not have to rely on those types of things in order to utilize its mana, which is remarkably similar to how a dungeon crystal operates: Sorcerers. They produce an internal aura formed from that mana that they can manipulate to perform different actions, some of which you’ve already seen.

“Ah – that makes a bit more sense, then.” Progen had been wondering why he had been able to “connect” with Marstin’s mana so easily, where he had been able to direct it where it needed to go. It didn’t require outside influences in order for it to be manipulated, which was exactly how his crystal treated his dungeon mana.

“So that is why this gland is so much more difficult for me to influence,” he stated. “It is full of Marstin’s mana, which is highly concentrated and worlds more potent than my own while trapped in this body. If I’m able to extend my influence over it, though, I should be able to manipulate this body’s mana just as easily as my own.”

Yes and no. Your crystal will need to be in physical contact with the gland in order to manipulate the mana. Not only that, but you won’t have full control of this body unless you implant yourself in the brain.

“What? Why wasn’t I told of this before?”

Because you hadn’t actually asked about it before. That, and since it was inaccessible for the longest time, there really wasn’t a reason to concern yourself.

That was going to mess with his plans a bit, because getting to the brain would be difficult. While he could move fairly freely through the digestive system and respiratory system, he would have to travel through the circulatory system in order to reach the brain. Every other method would require carving his way through tissue that could result in major damage to the body. The only safe route, without destroying millions of nerve cells in the process, would be going through the blood vessels to reach his goal.

Sadly, traveling through those avenues right now was a bit dangerous with the Bloody Horned Skulls and all. Progen wasn’t sure what would happen if he were to be rammed or chomped down on by one of those monsters, and he was hesitant to take a chance unless he was very sure of his safety. Perhaps if I had an army of Hexapus creatures around me? A giant cushioned shield of Newts?

Those were all thoughts for another time, though, because he hadn’t yet obtained full control of the brain. Not to mention that the blood vessels located in his newest addition to the circulatory system were already starting to see some Skulls pop up every once in a while, which was probably worse than them popping up in the heart. If they were able to rupture vessel walls in the brain, the damage to the surrounding nerve cells could be catastrophic before Progen was able to heal the injuries.

It took longer than he expected to influence such a small gland, but eventually Progen could feel his mana collide against an invisible wall and his progress stopped. While it was invisible, that didn’t mean it was impossible to tell that it was there – nor the feeling he got when he pressed against it.

“This feels like the influence of the Blood Curse. The stain left behind by its former occupant is the strongest here; I wonder why that is?”

It is said that most Sorcerers gain their abilities because of their ancestral blood. This could also be why the Blood Curse was trapped here in the brain; it was somehow chained to the auraloid gland through his inherent magical ability.

As soon as Stemmy said that, a lot suddenly made sense. The Blood Curse had been largely dormant until Progen arrived; the abrupt presence of his dungeon mana must have slowly loosened the entity’s chains, allowing it more freedom to fulfill its purpose. Marstin’s mana had been locked up as well, which was why he was so inept in using it – he’d never really had a chance to use magic before. The two were interconnected in a way that Progen wouldn’t have thought possible if he hadn’t seen and felt it himself.

“And if I push through this final barrier, what do you think will happen?” he asked, afraid of the answer. The fact that he could push through the wall he had run into wasn’t in doubt, because he could feel some give to it. It would take a little more effort than even the rest of the auraloid gland required, but it could be done.

The result is unknown. Not even the information that Chance received before he was destroyed had any knowledge of this situation. I surmise that it could have many outcomes, though there are two that are most likely. One would be that nothing happens and you’ll finally be able to fully control the central nervous system. The other would be to release the final chain holding the Blood Curse back from using everything in its power to fulfill its purpose. There is no way to tell for certain without more information.

Progen hesitated for only a few seconds before making up his mind. “Well, I’m not going to just sit here after coming all this way. Either it kills me or it does nothing; since I’ve already basically hit the limit of what I can do in this body in my current state, the way I see it is that I have nothing to lose. There’s no way I’m going to spend the rest of my days working for this body as some sort of auxiliary immune system, so I might as well go out with a purpose.”

That said, with no protest from Stemmy, Progen forged ahead, slamming all of his mana – as well as another 100,000 that he was able to procure from the deaths of recent Skulls throughout the bloodstream – into the kernel inside the gland preventing him from taking complete control. At first, there didn’t seem to be anything happening, but after a few moments he felt the barrier give a little…and then it broke completely, sending his mana flowing through the rest of the gland.

Three things happened in that exact moment. The first was that he felt an immediate increase in his awareness and his maximum mana. He wasn’t sure if he had unlocked any extra abilities or cells or traps, but he was happy enough about the sense of completeness he experienced that he didn’t think it mattered.

The second thing that happened was the immediate understanding that Marstin was starting to wake up -- so, not necessarily a bad thing.

Thirdly, and this was what dimmed his enjoyment of the event, was that he seemed to hear cruel laughter echo around his crystal, drilling into his mind with a familiar tone of single-minded purpose.

He had unleashed the Blood Curse…and there was no way of knowing what it would be able to do now.

Chapter 41

The familiar familial dream; he hadn’t had it in so long. In fact, as Marstin blinked, he realized that he’d never seen the dream so clearly before, nor with such awareness. He looked down at his body, finding nothing there except little legs, which moved beyond his control. Marstin looked back up, unable to influence the dream, or rather, the memory.

He was a little child, smaller than he’d been even as a starving thief and orphan, and he was currently running through a large corridor in a big building, a familiar building. Marstin realized it was the mansion of Ghevin Drestice after a few moments, back when it had been his family’s manor house. His younger self ran through an open door a moment later, into a back area that no longer existed at the manor today, where there was a large gazebo and a garden area was laid out. There were only a few guards scattered about, friendly faces as they silently protected the gathered hosts and guests.

Marstin recognized all of the people in his view: his parents, grandparents, his older brothers and sisters, and at least two dozen or more extended family members who had all gathered for his birthday. He remembered this particular scene even more vividly than he had during the fever dream in Kyra’s storage room basement, and could make out more details. His father, the lord of the south who’d refused to accept the title of duke, was laughing, dressed in fine dress armor with a sword on his waist that was more ornamental than deadly. His short brown hair was very much like Marstin’s own, though his father had an impressive short beard and mustache with well defined muscles, which Marstin’s lanky frame lacked. His mother was just as tall as his father, but with flowing brown hair and soft white skin that contrasted greatly with the Istutian tans all around her just as much her long green and white dress did with the clear morning sky.

His family were affluent merchants, earning most of their wealth from the mines around the town where they lived and similar towns bordering the southern mountain range.

No, his family was the appointed ruler of the south. They’d earned most of their wealth from adventuring before investing in developing the mines of Graniton and other towns to increase economic stability. The dream no longer hid his true lineage.

His family didn’t flaunt their wealth unnecessarily, however, but bestowed much of it for public works for the people who lived in the towns where they owned their business ventures. It was such generosity that led them to invite those less-fortunate from the community to their villa on holidays, listening to their stories, and sharing their bounty in the form of a feast. It was so much that they usually ended up sending those they invited home with baskets full of extra food to share with those who needed it, especially as some of their holidays took place during the bitter cold of late fall and winter, always a time when many needed help.

He remembered turning 6 or 7 years old that year, and their party was another impressive affair. There were at least 100 50 people in the house, including nearly every almost all members of their extended family; the only ones missing were his uncle and aunt who were late, and a few cousins who lived in the mountains as hermits.

That night, the last night he saw his parents and siblings alive, started out festive. . . No, it was the middle of the day, his birthday, and the mood was tense. His father was laughing, but the smile didn’t reach his worried eyes. His mother, the life of the party, was lost in thought. There had been a messenger the previous day, inviting them to a funeral of a close friend; there had been many funerals lately. He’d overheard his parents talking in hushed voices for several nights now. Most of his relatives appeared to be discussing important things with his parents, but he was too young to understand.

He’d tried to get his father’s attention, but he had been told to play with the other kids. Pouting, Marstin had gone to sulk in a corner, as he was unhappy that the adults weren’t having a good time at his birthday. A butler came up to comfort him, Ghevin Drestice. Ghevin appeared nervous, biting his lips and checking on his parents every once and awhile as he spoke to Marstin. He wanted a drop of Marstin’s blood to finish a birthday present for the young boy, but Marstin didn’t want to give any. He didn’t like pain.

Ghevin appeared to be getting impatient and had started grabbing Marstin. Marstin screamed, drawing the attention of his father. An argument broke out as he ran to the safety of his mother, with Ghevin fumbling over his words to explain to Marstin’s father. When his father turned his head to get Marstin’s side of the story, Ghevin sank a needle into Marstin’s father’s hand. Marstin’s father quickly reacted, slapping Ghevin into a pillar, rendering him unconscious.

Almost at once, things quickly turned deadly. Albeit that none of those whom they invited seemed to be affected, one-by-one, every member of Marstin’s family started to get violently ill. Except, instead of throwing up just the food that they had eaten that night, they vomited blood that ran across the marble flagstones of the large dining room gazebo and garden, turning it into a red pool of nightmarish origins. Marstin remembered the pain of that experience, which rivaled so much of the other things he’d felt since then. The heat burning through his body, the blood pouring out of him.

His mother, an accomplished healer before she married Marstin’s father, had cried out ‘Poison!’, something he couldn’t forget, nor could he forget the look of confusion on her face as she looked at her husband’s dying form. She no longer remembered him, nor any of the others, just her son. Marstin remembered her turning to him – the youngest member of their family at that point, though he somehow remembered some of his other relations Yolna had unknowingly been pregnant at the time – and placing her hands on his chest. A powerful blast of something had shot through his body, and he immediately felt better and didn’t feel like throwing up anymore. However, that was the last of his concerns, as his mother collapsed to the floor, in a pool of combined vomit and blood, and quickly stopped moving gave him a pleading look filled with love.

“Run, Marstin, and live a good life,” she begged him even as the blood began to pour from her own eyes. Her hand glowed one last time, and Marstin felt his head throb.

Before he could stoop to help her, with shock freezing his body and with tears running down his face at what was happening, he felt his father practically collapse into him from behind standing behind him. Tears and blood poured down his face as he lifted Marstin. Instead of falling to the floor, he had felt another blast of something else shoot through him, and his head felt funny. “Run, Marstin! Get away from here, before they can finish you off,” his father implored, using his great strength to throw Marstin beyond the fence that surrounded the manor. The last sight Marstin saw, before his world vanished, was the sight of his father collapsing to the floor, next to his wife, Marstin’s mother. They held each other’s hand, his mother seemingly remembering her husband as they passed together. The final thing he heard as the dream turned black was the shrill screaming of the guests as they seemingly reanimated and reacted to the bodies, even as others began questioning the bewildered guards who the bodies were and why they were at this manor.

The rest, was history.

Chapter 42

He could make out faint sounds as awareness returned to him, followed by the smell of incense, and a dry taste in his mouth. Marstin opened his eyes to the familiar sight of the healing hut, and many worried faces looking down at him, though none he recognized besides the shaman who had healed him earlier.

“Did I make it?” he croaked.

“I doubt you’d be seeing us if you didn’t,” Etna pointed out snidely from somewhere. “Not sure you’re cut out for the afterlife of Equinox or Normid.” He didn’t see her get whacked, but he heard her cry of pain quite clearly. He chuckled.

“How’d it go?” he asked the room.

Yarrow’s face popped into view next to the shamans, her face relieved.

“Well, it seems to have gone as you hoped,” she said, “though, there were a few side effects no one expected. You’ve been asleep for almost 3 days now, for one.”

“A new record,” Marstin grunted. “Anything else? Did I grow a third arm or something?”

“If only,” one of the shamans cut in. “Even growing horns or a tail would have been preferable. After a day had passed, we attempted to assist you by casting healing magic on your body. However, you had an adverse reaction.” He poked Marstin in the chest with a wand. “It appears whatever you meant to do to your body has resulted in an . . . an allergy to healing magic is our best guess. A unique condition if ever there was one. Since you’re awake, mind drinking one of those Istutian healing potions for us to see what happens?”

“Perhaps later,” Olivia said as she appeared and pushed the shaman away from Marstin with a pointed look. “Come now, let’s get you fixed up. You’ll be wanting to test your body as soon as possible, right?”

Marstin nodded. “If things have gone correctly, my, er, condition should be-”

“We aren’t fools young man, we all know it was some kind of curse,” the shaman from earlier interrupted before being pushed further back into the room by Jillia, Yule, and Etna.

“Ahem, my curse should have been unsealed,” Marstin corrected with a twitchy eye. “So, there’s a good chance my ability to do magic has returned. Proper magic, I mean.”

“If so, then you should use a meditative hut,” Yarrow reasoned. “They’re especially made with powdered monster core during the tanning process, along with special incense to help magic wielders focus their minds. But first, how about some food? Hungry?”

“Always,” Marstin said, leaning up faster than everyone was expecting, even himself. His stomach appeared to be driving his body now, as he was quickly escorted to one of the eating areas outside the healing hut. Olivia and her comrades, being the only ones in the group of 7 tribal members who hadn’t witnessed Marstin’s new appetite for the last 3 months, were very taken aback at the speed in which Marstin pulled all manner of meats, leaves, and berries into his bottomless gullet, pausing only to drink the cold water and ale brought his way.

“We need more meat this way!” Jillia happily directed the cooks. “Keep it coming!”

Once Marstin was satisfied, and the cooks on the verge of fright, the girls led him to one of the meditative tents while Olivia, Jules, and Emilia went to report Marstin’s condition to the elders.

“Here we are,” Yule said calmly as she led Marstin into the square-shaped room with a magical torch hanging from the middle of the ceiling. “You just need to sit here in the middle of the room and meditate, right Etna, Yarrow?”

“Physically yes,” the older and more experienced adventurer agreed. “As for you discovering your magic ability or talent, we really can’t offer you much guidance. Etna and I draw our magic differently from other humans, so we can’t help you get started. Once you determine your source of magic, then we can give some guidance.”

“So what should I do then? Close my eyes and summon magic?” Marstin asked.

“Something like that,” Yarrow agreed. “The power you used before should give you some idea on what to do though, whether it’s the ‘blue aura’ or ‘red magic’. Start from there and let whatever comes leave you. These tents can withstand anything a novice magic user like you can dish out, so don’t hold back.” With that said, she and the other three girls exited the tent, leaving Marstin behind to focus on his own.

This lasted only five minutes before Marstin began to feel uncomfortable. Unlike the ‘blue aura’ or ‘red magic’ he’d been using, trying to move the mana within his body felt strange and cumbersome. Annoyed, he tried to call upon his ‘red magic’ for a starting guide, only to find he couldn’t feel the power within him anymore.

‘No, it isn’t that it's not in me,” he realized. ‘But it isn’t where it used to be. It’s. . . everywhere now?’

His confusion and frustration only continued to grow as he tried to struggle through the growing discomfort, intent on finding his long-lost magic. However, the discomfort slowly changed into pain, and Marstin’s face began to twist in silent agony, such that the pain resembled the burning from during the ceremony. His chest hurt as he wheezed faster, desperately trying to breathe in more air than he got, and his heart felt like it was racing against the strengthening pain.

He wasn’t sure when it began, but as he was struggling through the pain, Marstin suddenly felt himself calming down. A familiar blue tingling seemed to be filtering through his body, starting in his head, and everything began slowing down within him. His breath became even, his heart calm, and the pain began receding back into discomfort that Marstin began to unconsciously ignore. This feeling was almost like the ‘blue aura’s’ second phase, and yet subtly different, because unlike when using the ‘blue aura,’ Marstin was able to follow the path of this feeling. It started in his head and flowed down into his chest before spreading through his limbs and back up to his head.

A vague memory played through his head, one from his childhood lessons in magic: The heart was the source of life, the brain the source of knowledge, and the soul the source of magic. Life could exist with two out of the three, but only through using all three sources would one master the use of mana.

He could feel it now, the missing ‘red magic’. It was flowing through him everywhere. He could see it, and he could call upon it now at will. It seemed to surge at his call, and Marstin’s face morphed into an uncharacteristic smile, before his eyes shot back open. To his amusement, he noticed that a good deal of time had seemed to have passed while he was meditating. He cocked his head from side to side before getting up and exiting the meditative hut.

Yarrow was the only one waiting for him as he emerged, standing up from a chair she’d procured from somewhere and stowing away a book she’d been reading.

“Glad to see you come out with your own power,” she teased him with a smile. “Did you figure it out?”

“I figured something out,” Marstin grinned as he looked down at his fist, unclenching and clenching it repeatedly. “Is there a place I can test this out?”

“Of course,” Yarrow snorted. “How can we be proper northern ‘barbarians’ without a place to fight, right? Ah, my apologies,” she quickly corrected herself. “The book I was reading put me into a bit of a joking mood. The author’s imagination about the tribes is so amusing I can’t help but wonder if he’s merely playing dumb and reversing everything about us.”

“Don’t you find that bit insulting, though, spreading false information like that?” Marstin asked as she led him to a different part of the cavern.

“I would normally, it’s the reason I buy these books to see what the view is that the country has of us,” Yarrow agreed, “However, this book takes an equally amusing direction in describing everyone else too, including his countrymen. I do not believe it was popular because of this.”

Marstin snorted with her as they entered a new tent, this one far larger than any of the others he’d entered before. Inside he found several round arenas spaced about, though no one appeared to be in the tent except Olivia, who was waiting in one of the circles.

“I knew you’d want to test out your magic,” she grinned at Marstin. “Come on, I’ll test your new mettle.”

Marstin returned the grin with an odd level of blood-thirstiness and drew his daggers as he entered the arena. “I’m going to try everything I have,” he warned, already summoning the ‘blue aura’ to cover his blades even as he felt the ‘red magic’ ready to burn.

“Show me what you got,” Olivia dared him, before throwing two fist-sized rocks which rocketed towards Marstin’s head as if released from a slingshot. With the ‘blue aura’ infusing his eyes, Marstin quickly slashed the two projectiles in half before they struck, causing them to land beside him.

“Nice, now dodge these,” Olivia’s grin widened, and revealed a sack of rocks. Marstin’s confident face faltered.

With the speed of a battalion of archers, Olivia flung rock after rock at the young adventurer, forcing him to slash wildly before they struck him. He wasn’t able to avoid all the rocks as his speed failed to match Olivia’s, and soon his body became littered with bruises and cuts from rock shrapnel.

“That’s enough!” Marstin cried out, and he summoned the ‘red magic’. His blood boiled, and suddenly Marstin felt an unprecedented level of control over his body. Every muscle, every bone, he could focus on any part and control it as easily as he could blink or breathe. Using this, he ran towards Olivia and used this new ability, combined with the slowing down of time, to dodge the rocks and avoid wasting time slashing them.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, but continued her barrage until Marstin reached her. Then, she reared back her leg and kicked out.

Marstin faced it confidently, already controlling his body to move out of the way, before noticing the kick seemed to be moving faster than he expected. Strike that, it was already about to touch him--

Marstin let out a grunt as Olivia’s boot-covered foot slammed into his gut and knocked him back onto the floor.

“I’ve heard a little about your ability to slow down time,” she grinned. “Hate to break it to you, Marstin, but that ability isn’t unique, and it is easy to counter once you know the trick. Want to continue?”

“Hold up! I need to heal myself,” Marstin said as he got leaned back up, wiping the blood from his mouth where a small cut had appeared earlier. Olivia shrugged, and the three of them, Yarrow still on the sidelines watching, waited.

After a few minutes, Marstin frowned. The ‘blue aura’ wasn’t healing his body. No, it was healing his body more slowly than usual. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “This isn’t, oh. . .” Marstin had tried to stand up, only to suddenly get dizzy and stumble back to the floor. Yarrow and Olivia ran over to check on him.

“You’re gotten paler,” Olivia frowned as she examined Marstin. “And your injuries are a bit odd. They haven’t begun to harden, but the flow is lessened. Yarrow, you have a bit more medical experience than I do; any guesses?”

Yarrow held up her hand to Marstin’s forehead before grasping his throat and palm gently. “His pulse has slowed,” she confirmed. “Marstin, I’d say you’re suffering anemia, or a lack of blood.”

“How? I haven’t bled that much,” he asked in surprise.

“Lift up your shirt,” Olivia ordered, and pressed against Marstin’s torso when he obliged. “Does it hurt anywhere in here?”

“Not more than usual,” Marstin said slowly. “Why?”

“No internal bleeding, either,” Yarrow muttered. “And yet, your blood appears to have lessened. What magic did you use before? Your speed and control increased noticeably.”

“I used ‘blue aura’ to augment my blades and eyesight,” Marstin reported. “and then my new ‘red magic’ to increase my control over my body.”

“Can you elaborate?” Yarrow asked. She listened patiently as Marstin described what he’d experienced using the new magic, before clicking her tongue. “You seem to have acquired a troublesome talent,” she admitted after a minute of consideration. “I believe what you just used was a form of hemomancy, or blood magic if you prefer. Hemomancy is a rare magical talent to have, and due to its nature it is fairly misunderstood and reviled in common society.”

“Sue mentioned it, I remember,” Marstin murmured as the girls helped him stand up. “I didn’t ask her about it back then. So what does it mean? I can use magic to control my blood?”

“And to control others,” Yarrow revealed cautiously. “That’s the reason why it's so maligned. Of course, it isn’t like you can just wield hemomancy like your ‘blue aura’ and previous ‘red magic’. What you just did is likely your limit, until you learn some spells through either book learning or experimentation. Unfortunately, you’ll find neither practical teachers nor reliable records here, nor in Istut, I imagine. You’d either need to travel to Bosrol or the Country of Devils for that, I’m afraid.”

“So, my new magic can only burn away my blood. That doesn’t sound nearly as exciting as I’d hoped,” Marstin grumbled.

“And,” Yarrow reminded him. “It appears that using this new ‘red magic’ hemomancy has a negative effect on your ‘blue aura’s’ healing factor. You’re still healing faster than a normal person, but seeing as it's slowed so much, I imagine using your hemomancy too long would slow your healing down to a regular person’s, or even slower.”

“It’s not all bad news, though,” she said quickly as Marstin sagged in disappointment. “That’s without any training. I can ask my teacher to help guide you through some basic meditation techniques to improve your control over your magic and lessen the side effects. After all, think of it this way; your hemomancy burns blood instead of mana, right?”

“No, I definitely used up some mana,” Marstin corrected, perking up slightly, “But not that much, not like others have described.”

“So it burns your blood and some of your mana,” Yarrow corrected. “Which means, you still have plenty of mana left over. If you learn some healing magic. . ..” she broke off. “Right, healing magic allergies. Hm, but if you learn a spell that causes you to regenerate blood faster, that should balance out your problems.”

“Is there such a spell?” Marstin asked.

“Not that I know of,” Yarrow admitted. “But all spells were made to use magic to accomplish impossible things. If there isn’t a spell, then you’ll have to make one for yourself. That’s the beauty of magic- having no limits.”

“Okay, but can I get some more food first before we try that,” Marstin asked pitifully. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll bring you some,” Olivia assured him. “Come on now, back to the healing tent. Yarrow will make sure the shamans don’t poke you to death.”

*   *   *

The next day, Marstin felt better and was being guided by Yarrow to meet her teacher.

“She’s in here,” Yarrow said, leading Marstin into one of the Frost Wolf tribe’s tents.

“We meet again, young hunter,” the familiar elder greeted Marstin. “And at least this occasion shouldn’t involve you experiencing any more pain.” She looked at Yarrow. “Leave us for now. I will call you when we are done.”

“Yes, teacher,” Yarrow nodded and exited the tent.

“So, you’re the tribe leader, a shaman, Olivia’s mother, and Yarrow’s teacher?” Marstin confirmed.

The elder shrugged. “Small tribe, small world. We all do what we can to ensure the continuation of the tribe. Are we so different from the single parent who hunts, tailors cloth, and teaches her children all the while working at a store? Besides, my identity is of little importance to you; I don’t even have a name to offer you.”

“You don’t have a name?” Marstin cocked his head curiously.”

“Of course I have a name, everyone has a name,” the elder whacked him on the head with her staff, startling the young man. “It is the tradition of the tribe that a leader discards their name and former identity when taking an important role, to demonstrate the dedication to the job. Because I have many roles, I am called whatever is most relevant- in this case you’ll refer to me as teacher or elder.”

“Yes, elder,” Marstin acquiesced, rubbing his head.

“Good, you're teachable,” the elder nodded, pleased. “Now, show me this ‘blue aura’ of yours on both your body and your weapons.”

Marstin obliged her, noting curiously that the ‘blue aura’ appeared to be following his wishes outside of combat for once without any stubbornness. Had something changed?

“Hm, it does appear to be closer to aura than magic,” the elder noted with a nod. “Now, what else can you project your ‘blue aura’ on?”

“Um, that’s it,” Marstin blinked. “It can augment my body or my weapons.”

“Fool!” the elder whacked Marstin on the head again, faster than he could react. The blows weren’t very painful despite their speed, but they certainly flummoxed the young adventurer every time they came. “Come now, I said your ‘blue aura’ was more like aura than magic, not that it was the same. This is aura.”

The elder held her staff in front of Marstin’s face. As he concentrated his eyes on it, Marstin noticed a strange swirling around the edges of the staff that seemed to blend the wood into the world around it.

“My staff is covered in my wind aura,” she explained, taking the staff away from Marstin’s face. “Imbuing an element into my aura is a higher-level technique, and it allows my staff to move as swiftly as the wind and land with the force of a breeze, if I so choose. I can do the same for my body, and that is where our aura’s separate.”

She pointed at Marstin’s head. “Aura cannot do all that which you’ve done with your ‘blue aura’. For instance, the knights of Talin are adept at using aura to armor their bodies and heal outer wounds, but even they cannot heal broken bones and torn muscles with only aura. Also, aura can be used to increase one’s eyesight and visual acuity, but not the speed of their mind to process what you perceive at a faster pace. Both of these examples are better achieved with body magic spells.”

“So,” the elder smiled at Marstin. “That suggests that your ‘blue aura’ isn’t limited to the usual means of use. You merely have created this limitation within your own mind by referring to it with a name that is less than what it is. Try using it to cover something else, like this rock.” She tossed him a plain rock, which Marstin easily caught.

He stared at it, and concentrated. The rock was easily covered in his aura.

“Now, try manipulating the rock with your aura.” The elder ordered.

Marstin tried, but nothing happened. The elder took back the rock and tapped the ground with her staff.

“Close your eyes, but leave your hand outstretched,” she ordered.

Marstin obliged her.

“I’ve used my aura to condense a ball of mud into the shape of the rock I just gave you,” he heard her say. “Cover it with your aura and squeeze it, but don’t let it burst. And don’t open your eyes!”

He felt a cool thing being placed in his hand a moment later. Concentrating, he covered the mud with his aura and closed his fist, squeezing it while concentrating on keeping it from exploding.

“Good, now open your eyes,” the elder ordered.

Marstin did so, and found to his surprise that she’d placed the rock back into his hand instead of mud, and that his hand was squeezing the rock as if it were made of mud. His aura broke a moment later, and Marstin was left holding a solid rock that had been squeezed into the shape of his closed fist.

The elder smiled at him. “Told you,” she winked. “Only aura imbued with fire or earth elemental magic could do this, but the stone would be altered into something else. In your hand there, that stone is still just a stone. Tell me, if you were to cover your hand in that ‘blue aura’ and use it to manipulate whatever you touch, do you think you could dig handholds into surfaces most would deem unclimbable?”

Marstin, whose mind was already racing through the possibilities, froze as the image of Iora’s impassable walls suddenly came to mind. He raised his eyebrows at the elder, but she hummed and looked away suspiciously with an innocent smile.

“Now,” she said a moment later after Marstin dropped the warped stone. “Let’s try some more tests.”

Between the two of them, the abilities of the ‘blue aura’ were expanded. Marstin found he could use the ‘blue aura’ to: close the wounds and heal the injuries of other people, something he’d assumed after using it to cure the prince and others of their poison; manipulate objects’ physical form without changing their state; enclose liquids and move them; stab things when focused into a point, though this worked better with a guide such as a dagger or his finger; disrupt the mana within the bodies of other people; drain the mana from other people or objects if in direct contact (the elder had grumbled over this test); and return or donate mana to other people and things; and finally, use the aura as strings to manipulate objects. He needed to rest a bit after using his abilities for a while, because he would get temporarily weak when he pushed too far. It wasn’t that much of a problem, though, because he recovered fairly quickly each time.

“To be able to do all this without proper spells is without a doubt an advantage you possess over everyone else,” the elder admitted. “However, this magic is actually much like ours; bordering the line between natural and instinctual magic, if you’re feeling generous. If I had any doubt you weren’t human, this magic would confirm you to be less human than even we are; by the magical definition at least.” She tapped her staff against the ground. “Quite the curious ability indeed, but not one that seems to be detrimental, unlike your other magic. Let us focus on it next-”

A knock from outside the tent alerted the two occupants of the tent. “Elder, a messenger for the adventurer has come. It’s urgent!”

Chapter 43

The anticipation of doom still hung over Progen’s dungeon as the dungeon crystal braced for some sort of attack…and yet, nothing happened.

That is inaccurate. The Bloody Horned Skulls—

“Yes, yes, I know,” Progen interrupted his assistant, brushing aside what Stemmy was going to say. “They started to become more organized, abandoning their sporadic and random attacks in favor of targeted locations, but that didn’t make them any more dangerous. If anything, having them clumped up again made it easier to locate them; when you add in the fact that they are able to be lured into my trapped defenses again, I would say it is an improvement.”

Agreed. However, the way they mutated—

The dungeon crystal interrupted the cluster of interneuron cells again. “Okay, yes, the new mutation is a bit of a concern. Regardless, it isn’t anything my forces can’t handle.”

The new monster mutations were actually a bit more than a concern, but he had adapted fairly well. With his new maximum of being able to hold 50,000 mana at one time – which was a vast improvement over his previous 10,000 – it was much easier to produce traps and new creations that were powerful enough to combat the larger Blood Dragons. It wasn’t long after Progen finished his procurement of the auraloid gland that they had shown up, not that the event seemed to have any other benefits that he could see.

The Blood Dragons were approximately 4 times the size of the Bloody Horned Skulls, though size wasn’t necessarily what made them more dangerous. Instead of a large extracellular matrix shaped like a skinless skull, it was shaped more like the Parasyte that had nearly destroyed his crystal – though on a much smaller scale. As well as with legs that ended with claws comprised of condensed platelets, sharpened to the point where they were nearly as sharp as Progen’s Blades. In addition, they had long, sinuous bodies that had small wings that allowed it to cut through the plasma in the bloodstream better than even his own immune cells with their levitation effect.

They were destructive, to say the least. Whenever they appeared, they were too fast to surround with Newts, so the only way that he found at first that would eliminate them was to send at least a dozen Bladed Hexapus creatures, and it was lucky if more than a pair of them survived the encounter. That was, unfortunately, after the Dragon had already torn rents in the blood vessel it found itself in, as well as swallowing tens of thousands of red blood cells. They were needlessly harmful, too, because they would use their claws to grasp, squeeze, and tear apart clumps of red blood cells seemingly just for the fun of it – not even to consume them in order to grow.

After a short time of suffering under their attacks (which was fortunately not as common of an occurrence as the Skulls showing up), he learned how to create a massive Suspension trap nearby with a weakened intensity to it. After luring it inside with some of his multi-celled organisms, it would be slowed down to the point where it was only moving about 25% of the speed it was before. With the advantage of speed again, his Hexapus creatures were able to dismantle it into multiple pieces, slicing it up with ease.

For those situations where it wasn’t possible to create a trap to slow the quick Dragon down, Progen had to resort to a different type of defender. Using his experience creating the Hexapus, he created another multi-celled organism; this time, though, it wasn’t based on Blades to cut the monster apart (as that had been tried, and the different sliced-up segments could move on their own to cause as much – or more – devastation). Instead, it was focused on speed, defense, and containment, until Progen’s other forces could arrive to finish the job.

“I think that’s working much better than I had anticipated, don’t you think?”

Affirmative. Your use of a Cleaner’s cell shape accompanied by Reporters surrounded by keratin is quite effective.

It certainly was. He had needed to use another Hexapus to control everything, but it was located on the inside of an extracellular matrix shaped to look like a thick “C”; Reporters, being one of the fastest immune cells he currently possessed, made up the entire bulk of the new creation. When it sped forward, controlled by the Hexapus, it would catch up to one of the Dragons and clamp down on it, enfolding its large “C” around its middle so that it was basically an “O”. Each of the Reporters’ cell walls were created from a thin layer of keratin, making them basically useless for anything else other than the Shield they acted as. It also made them heavy, though it fortunately didn’t cause them to be any slower as a result.

When the Anchors attached themselves to the Dragon, they would use the levitation effect that Progen surrounded them with to stop completely. The added weight from the keratin cell walls acted as an anchor to keep the monster in place, and although red blood cell construct tried to attack it, even its condensed platelets couldn’t penetrate far into the Anchor cells. Occasionally a matrix was shredded, but for the most part they were kept intact long enough for 3 or 4 Hexapus creatures to arrive and start carving up the captive Dragon.

So, other than those couple of problems, nothing much had changed. Well, other than the fact that Progen and Stemmy now had a lot more options than ever before.

I can now communicate with all parts of the body without interruption or having to wait for commands from the central nervous system. Complete control will require both of us being integrated inside of the brain, however.

“Yes, well at least you’re starting to have a better interpretation of the body’s external senses,” Progen added, glad for that at least. While neither Progen nor Stemmy could actually control anything, having access to the signals running through the brain after it had interpreted information gained from the senses was a vast improvement. Knowledge of activities was vastly improved, as well as the filtering of non-important data so that what was experienced was not overwhelming was a significant step up from before.

Still, not being able to control the actions of the body in a more general sense was but a temporary setback, one which would be resolved as soon as he was able to get his crystal and assistant up to the brain. The pathway up there was too volatile at the moment, but it was still progress – especially with what additional things Progen soon found out he could create.

In order to replace the body’s shortage of red blood cells from the constant warring and attrition throughout the blood vessels, Progen had encouraged Marstin to start consuming red meat for the high-iron content as soon as he woke up. That certainly occurred soon after, but another discovery was made almost immediately when the breakdown of the nutrients commenced.

“Whoa! What the—?”

What is wrong?

Progen couldn’t explain it exactly, but as soon as the first nutrients were extracted from the meal, a hyper awareness of those nutrients slammed into his mind. He hadn’t really paid attention to them as thoroughly as he probably should’ve in the past, except for a few nutrients that really mattered to specific growth needs or red blood cell production like zinc and iron molecules. He saw those being extracted, of course, but there were others that he vaguely recognized; he told Stemmy what he saw and described what they looked like.

You’re seeing many of the protein strands, as well as vitamin B12, vitamin B6, niacin, and phosphorus. The others are probably omega-3 fats, riboflavin, taurine, carnitine—

“Ok, but what does that mean? Why am I suddenly focused on them now, when they haven’t really been all that—oh. I see.”

What?

He thought about it some more and concluded he was correct when he produced a massive clump of iron molecules in the small intestine, where it was quickly absorbed by the efficient digestive system. “I believe that I can now reproduce any of the nutrients entering the body with an application of my mana, though I think it has to be ingested first. And not just ingested, but inhaled, as well; I can reproduce oxygen and a few other gases I don’t know the names for, as well as water from the moisture in the air.”

He tried the process again by producing a droplet of water inside of the stomach, as if it had just been imbibed; it didn’t take more than a single mana for even a large droplet, and he watched as it was absorbed by the body like normal.

“Do you know what this means?” he asked excitedly, but went on before Stemmy could even begin to answer. “It means that, theoretically, I can produce not only enough nutrients to sustain the body, but enough oxygen and water to the point where Marstin doesn’t need to eat, drink, or even breathe again – if that were necessary. It would take a bit of concentration and mana to ensure the body doesn’t run out of oxygen, but water and sustenance is easy enough. When I finally take over this host, that will make it so much easier to maintain the body without having to resort to watering and feeding it constantly from outside sources. It might even get to the point where breathing is unnecessary, so that would eliminate one vulnerable entrance for pathogens.”

The fact that he could now produce all of the building blocks of the nutrients the body consumed in order to function got him looking for potential cells he had unlocked. It didn’t take him long to discover that he could produce every single cell in the body, and not just from healing according to the predetermined pattern. Among those he found he could create were epithelial cells that were used in almost all parts of the body, including organs, skin, and blood vessels; muscle cells and fat cells; bone cells and nerve cells; pancreatic and reproductive cells; and, thankfully, red blood cells.

The problem? Red blood cells cost 1 mana for approximately 10 of them, which was admittedly fairly inexpensive when compared to many other cells he could produce. But when he was still recovering from nearly 8 trillion red blood cells being lost over the last few days, even if he spent all of his mana for the next day on only red blood cells, it wouldn’t even be more than what the body could produce in a minute on its own.

Still, it was frankly amazing what he could do now, even if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. That didn’t matter to Progen, though, because he was sure it would come in handy at some point; and that “some point” was probably after he had taken over full control of the body, when he finally was able to transport his crystal and Stemmy up to the brain. The likelihood of that happening right now, though, was almost nil; the monsters in the bloodstream were still too random and prevalent to safely make that journey with any confidence.

It would happen soon, but not that day.

Now that he had explored what he could do now that he had influenced the brain, as well as done everything in his power to continue eliminating the red blood cell-based threats, it was time for Progen to start hunkering down and finding the Blood Curse. It had been hours since he had finished the influencing process which had also woke Marstin up from his unconsciousness, which was too much time for the Curse to linger around without Progen or Stemmy locating it.

“Now, where do you think it could—”

I’m detecting activation of the auraloid gland. Something is different this time.

Progen felt it as well and he could immediately confirm that Stemmy was correct – it did feel different this time. Whereas before it was as if the entire floodgates had opened when Marstin had wanted to use his mana – releasing it all at once – this time it felt as if only a small trickle was released. The difference was obvious enough that it made the dungeon crystal curious about why the entire body wasn’t inundated with magical energy like it had all of the previous times.

“What is he doing, Stemmy?”

His assistant only took a moment before responding. It seems as if our host is trying to demonstrate his ability, though it is not going as expected. There seems to be some frustration and confusion warring with each other.

That was more than obvious as breathing increased in intensity, the heart started beating faster, and the pressure along the blood vessels seemed to increase – none of which was beneficial to Progen. Faster movement of blood through the body just made his job in hunting down and destroying the monsters popping up everywhere that much harder.

“We have to calm him down a bit while I attempt to show his mana what to do,” he stated, already “reading” what the mana wanted to accomplish – but again, with the mana (or Marstin) not having any idea of how to do it.

I will instruct the pineal gland to release the serotonin hormone, while simultaneously instructing the hypothalamus to release oxytocin. If you create some more of them via your mana and have it run through the entire body, that will speed up the process of calming our host down.

Progen did just that, spending just over 2,000 mana to flood the bloodstream with serotonin and oxytocin, just as he started to direct the powerful magical energy leaking out of the auraloid gland.

That was a bit much – I’m not sure how the body will react to that.

“Now you tell me!” he practically shouted. Fortunately, the large quantities of hormones didn’t seem to have any adverse effects.

“Looks like we’re going to be alright.”

True – but I think you’ll have some other problems if you don’t take care of our host’s mana.

Unfortunately, that was very true. He had forgotten about Marstin’s mana when he was distracted by other things; left alone where it was, the damage to the brain could be catastrophic with how potent the energy was. Therefore, guiding it with his expert touch, he began the process of sending it through the body. Marstin apparently wanted to demonstrate how he could use his mana, but with the small amount that had been released from the gland, it would barely be noticeable.

At least, that’s what Progen thought at first….

But he had forgotten about the Magic Amplifiers still scattered throughout the body.

Chapter 44

The moment that Progen watched Marstin’s mana touch the nearest Magic Amplifier was a unique experience for the dungeon crystal. Previously, he had seen how the corrupted mana that had come from the Blood Curse’s influence had been amplified out of control; to be honest with himself, Progen thought this would be exactly the same.

He was almost entirely wrong.

Marstin’s magical energy was sucked up into the Magic Amplifier like water inside of a sponge, but it didn’t stay there. In the barest fraction of a second, the mana shot out to the next-nearest Amplifier, then the next-closest, then the next – all too fast for Progen to really see it. Instead, it was almost as if he saw the trailing afterimages of the mana as it spread throughout the body, intersecting with all of the special cells before moving on and completing the circuit, touching every single one. Once that happened, the energy moved back to the first and repeated the circuit, the strength of the mana marginally increased through the process.

It all happened so fast that he only really understood what he was seeing after he replayed it in his mind later, but in just over a full second after the first Magic Amplifier was touched, the energy had been amplified to the point where Progen estimated it could be used just as effectively as “normal”. With only a slight hesitation borne from the shock of what was happening, the dungeon crystal firmly grasped ahold of the circulating mana and directed it toward the muscles, tendons, ligaments, and bones throughout the body, as well as the blades in Marstin’s hands. With the energy enhancing each component needed to increase Marstin’s speed, strength, and agility, he would be able to perform the intended feats that were communicated through the mana itself.

The infusion of mana throughout the body had another effect, though: The calmness that had fallen over his host was eliminated as many of the serotonin and oxytocin hormones were essentially vaporized. It wasn’t something that Progen had done or directed Marstin’s energy to do; instead, it seemed to be an unconscious reaction.

Neurons are firing at a highly increased rate in the hippocampus located in the temporal lobe. I believe that the host is somehow storing the memories of what just occurred.

“How is that possible? Marstin was nearly catatonic with all of the hormones I accidentally released.”

There was only a slight hesitation as Stemmy seemed to consider his question. It is quite possible that you had inadvertently sent our host into a meditative state that allowed him to follow what you did for once. He is learning.

Now that was good news. “I guess my oopsie wasn’t so bad, after all!”

I wouldn’t necessarily say that – you could’ve inadvertently killed our host.

Progen chose to ignore that fact. “Yeah, well he survived and was better for it. Next time, I won’t use quite as many hormones and will still be able to achieve a state where Marstin will follow along.”

Very prudent of you.

Sarcasm – gotta love the burgeoning personality contained within a cluster of interneuron cells.

Unfortunately, the mana coming from the auraloid gland wasn’t the only thing that had been called upon. Shortly after there was a flurry of activity, utilizing Marstin’s mana to great effect, a reddish aura that Progen immediately recognized as belonging to the Blood Curse seemed to pulse through the bloodstream, and the blood infiltrated the muscles again, strengthening them beyond what the body could handle.

Before Progen knew it, Marstin was impacted in his torso from what Stemmy said was a powerful kick, and there was significant internal damage. It wasn’t too horrible, and would be easy enough for the dungeon crystal to repair. At least, it would have been easy, if there hadn’t been a sudden uptick in the amount of Bloody Horned Skulls that appeared in the bloodstream only moments after the Blood Curse’s energy had been utilized.

Looking around the blood vessels, there was a perceptible increase in the potency of foreign magical energy infusing the blood. It was this energy that was likely responsible for the increase in monsters attacking, and it was plain to Progen why the energy had increased in potency. The use of Marstin’s mana in conjunction with the Blood Curse had heightened the danger facing the circulatory system – and there was no way to communicate this to his host!

So, instead of repairing the damage that the overuse of his muscles, joints, and ligaments had caused, Progen was instead focused on protecting Marstin’s circulatory system. It wasn’t something he couldn’t handle, especially as he was able to eliminate them as soon as they were located – but there were too many threats to do both activities at once.

Another trickle of mana is emerging from the auraloid gland.

Fortunately (and unfortunately, as it turned out), Marstin decided to take matters into his own figurative hands. The magical energy that sprang out from the brain moved directly to the same Magic Amplifier that it had touched before without Progen’s direction, where it proceeded to amplify itself through the circuitous route it took when touching all of the other Amplifiers. In a brief moment, it was already strong enough that it was fairly calling out to be used – but it didn’t do anything other than continue cycling through all of the special cells.

“Is that going to continue amplifying until something is done with it?” Progen asked, concerned. He was still trying to fight off the recent incursion of Skulls and even a few Dragons, and the crystal didn’t want to be distracted by having to do two things at once. Well, more like 30 things at once, but I consider all of the different battles inside the circulatory system as only one thing.

Doubtful; I detect that it will only amplify the power up to a certain point. However, the danger lies in leaving it circulating, as that could negatively affect the Magic Amplifiers and the cells close to them over time.

“So I’ve got to do something about it quickly.” Progen briefly touched Marstin’s mana with his mind, seeing exactly what it was that his host intended to do with it. He nearly directed it immediately toward healing the damage left over from the initial use of energy, but he remembered Stemmy’s comment about Marstin learning how to do it when he was in his meditative state.

Thankfully, the body and mind were a bit exhausted from the previous activities, so it didn’t require nearly as many hormones to achieve the same state – only about 200 mana’s worth, or 10% of his previous usage. The systems in the body relaxed, the neurons in the mind also slowed in their firing, but there didn’t appear to be as much danger as there had been before of causing permanent damage. The circulating mana, on the other hand, needed to be used immediately before that caused some internal injuries.

Progen broke his focus away from fighting the ongoing battle in the bloodstream to direct the mana to any damaged tissue, tendons, and ligaments, as well as a very tiny crack in the structure of one of the right foot’s metatarsal bones. It took a lot longer than usual to show the mana how to flow over all of the different sections of the body, fixing the internal damage as quickly as it was found. It was a little different from how Progen would do it, because he was fully connected to the different systems of the body and would know immediately (with Stemmy’s help) where the problem areas were, but he thought it was a good way to teach Marstin how to find and heal what was needing attention.

Strangely, through the entire development, he discovered an interesting development: Progen found that he was able to hitch his viewpoint to Marstin’s energy as it shot through the skin on the palms and into the weapons, where it infused the pair of knives with a bluish aura that categorized the body’s mana. Better yet….

He could SEE! For the first time since he had been swallowed by the human, he could see outside of the body where he was trapped, more than the very small space above the skin that he could observe because of having influenced the integumentary system. With the link to Marstin’s mana, that even existed once the physical connection was gone, Progen could perceive outward events that had nothing to do with cells, viruses, bacteria, and hormones.

The change in scale was a bit difficult to comprehend at first, but eventually the dungeon crystal could see that Marstin was in some sort of large dark space, though the lack of light didn’t do anything to hinder his perception. After a moment, he deduced that they were in some sort of dwelling, and that there were a handful of other people inside of the same dwelling – who were looking at his host worriedly.

Sadly, though the body was being healed of injuries, he found that his other problem was only getting worse. Even more monsters created from red blood cells were running around the circulatory system as a result of the use of Marstin’s mana interacting with remnants of the Blood Curse’s energy. Progen was forced to apply his full attention and supplies of mana toward eradicating enough of them to at least create an equilibrium between lost and newly created red blood cells.

Hemoglobin in the body is reaching drastically low levels from an increase in invasive monster presence. The onset of anemia means that necessary oxygen is having difficulty reaching certain areas of the body and physical side effects are starting to manifest themselves. Fatigue, labored breathing, dizziness, and increased heart rate are all beginning to affect our host. Do you wish to provide the necessary oxygen to the affected areas?

Progen nearly said yes, as he now had the ability to provide the oxygen molecules as a benefit of fully influencing the brain, but he hesitated. “Will there be any permanent long-term effects if I do nothing?”

No, not as long as the anemic conditions are corrected within the next few hours and don’t become worse.

“Good.” The way he saw it, what Marstin was experiencing was the only way Progen could communicate with his host that he needed to stop what he was doing. If he started using his mana again within the next few hours, before Progen was able to get a handle on things – and make plans for when Marstin inevitably started to reutilize his magical abilities – then the body was never going to fully recover.

So, instead of contributing his own mana towards producing enough oxygen for the body, the dungeon crystal put everything not needed into destroying the invasive Skulls and Dragons toward producing more red blood cells. Iron, vitamin B12, folate, and heme molecules were pumped into the bone marrow along with erythropoietin (a hormone), where it was utilized to increase red blood cell production.

I have analyzed hemoglobin production in the marrow, and it has increased by more than a factor of 100 compared to a few minutes ago. Estimates push the numbers of new red blood cells every second to nearly 300 million; at that rate, the physical anemic reactions will be eliminated fairly quickly. Full recovery back to normal hemoglobin levels will require approximately 3 hours.

That was about what he was expecting, and the red blood cells would simply take some time to replenish – with a little help from Progen, of course. He attempted to provide even more materials, but he had hit his limit; the marrow could only physically produce so many, after all, even with an unlimited quantity of resources. Even as it was, his infusion of his mana into the entire cell-making factories had increased the speed of red blood cell production from nearly 2 days for normal bodies to just over 2 minutes. There wasn’t much more he could do to speed up or increase production.

Even though he was incredibly busy taking care of the problem, which was more than manageable yet time-and-resource-consuming, the dungeon crystal still had enough presence of mind to question Stemmy about something that had been bothering him.

“Why is there only a trickle of mana coming out instead of the entire gland emptying out like it had been doing?”

Apparently, Stemmy had been considering that as well, because it wasn’t long before the cluster of interneuron cells replied.

It is quite likely that the Blood Curse was tied to the gland as a way to keep it dormant. When the Curse was woken up, the process opened up the gland as well – the entire gland. Its presence there was holding the “floodgates” open so that all the mana escaped when it was accessed. Now that the Blood Curse is no longer there, it seems as though the gland is releasing the correct amount of mana depending on what needs to be done.

“It’s only the correct amount because of the Magic Amplifiers, though,” he mentioned. “Are you telling me the brain knows about them?”

Possibly. Or it could be influenced by Marstin’s knowledge of what happened when his mana had been corrupted. Or any number of other things, of course.

“If that’s the case, do you think adding more Magic Amplifiers would increase the potency of Marstin’s mana even further?” Progen could imagine adding hundreds of them all over the body, increasing a trickle of mana into a flood.

I would advise against that. You can probably add another dozen or so, but you saw what happened when the corrupted mana ravaged the body; adding many more could do more harm than good in the long run.

Reluctantly, Progen had to agree. It wasn’t that the mana had been corrupted when it had done the damage – that was just a characteristic of the energy. No, it was due to the fact that the strength of the mana had been so potent that it withered or destroyed everything it ran though. He had seen no evidence thus far that the cycling trickles of mana were doing any harm, but any significant increase in that could be quite different. That, and adding more fuel to the fire that were the monsters running around in the circulatory system was probably a bad idea.

“Has Marstin decided to stop using his mana for now, I hope?” he asked after nearly 10 minutes of no more of the magical energy emerging from the auraloid gland.

Affirmative, for the time being. In fact, he is currently preparing to consume additional nutrients and is planning on sleeping for the remainder of the day.

“Excellent. That will give us plenty of time to get things back under control and to figure out a way to prevent this from happening in the future. I’m not sure what that will be, but we’ll have time later to figure everything out.”

With that, it was time to get slaughtering some magically formed, red blood cell-constructed monsters.

Chapter 45

The last few days had been hectic for Progen, as he had barely been able to even think with all that had been going on. There really hadn’t been a specific strategy put in place to combat new Skulls or Dragons from forming, but that didn’t mean the dungeon crystal wasn’t prepared; rather, he started using every available drop of mana that wasn’t involved in supplying the red blood cell production with materials on producing more defenders.

He’d had nearly 1,000 roaming Bladed Hexapus’ and 200 Anchors around the bloodstream at his beck and call a few days ago, which had been barely enough to contain the outbreaks. Now, with a need for even more because of Marstin’s actions, he was looking at somewhere around 25,000 Hexapus creatures and 2,000 Anchors, as Dragons were starting to become more prevalent over time. With so many of his multi-celled defenders around, it was almost a guarantee that he would be able to attack a brand-new infestation of monsters within moments of their detection.

Of course, that detection came with its own price. Billions of Skull Trackers were now roaming through the bloodstream, latching onto any Skulls or Dragons they came across. Every 30 seconds, Progen would also have to produce another Magic Amplifier that would sacrifice itself near a Bloody Horned Skull in order to highlight those monsters found by the Trackers. The expense was adding up, but so were the sources of mana for the dungeon crystal, especially with the frequent use of Marstin’s magical energy throughout the body.

Approximately 12 hours after Marstin had gone to sleep to shake off the effects of the anemia, Progen’s host body was at it again. This time, though, there was some methodology to the madness.

Our host seems to have gained some sort of trainer in magical abilities. Hmm…now this is interesting.

“What? What is interesting? I’m not sure I like interesting things.” Considering that most interesting things tended not to be beneficial to Progen and his dungeon, that was an understatement.

The trainer is asking him whether our host can project his aura outward to affect more than just himself and his weapons.

That question was ridiculous because it was so obvious. “Of course he can, he just has to—” Progen stopped himself and mentally smacked himself in the crystal when he grasped how ridiculous that statement was. “He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know, the poor, stunted human. I should’ve realized why he wasn’t doing things that a normal magic user could do – because he was too ignorant to realize he could!” That certainly explained why the mana had only been used in a few specific ways, when Marstin could’ve used it for countless other purposes in the past.

The question that Marstin was asked apparently sparked his imagination, because Progen was inundated over the next hour with requests of the mana to be used in a variety of ways. All of that magical energy usage inevitably led to an increase in the number of bloodborne monsters in the bloodstream, just when Progen had finally gotten a handle on the numbers floating around. The increase in red blood cell production had even stabilized things to the point where Marstin was definitely not showing signs of anemia; unfortunately, after his rush to try out new things with his magical aura outside of the body, most of that progress was lost.

Thankfully, it hadn’t gone far enough to make him collapse, nor had Marstin deliberately called upon the Blood Curse again, which Progen thought would worsen his already complicated defense of the body. While he didn’t collapse, he was likely feeling tired and worn down. That was enough to cause Marstin to halt his repetitive use of mana every once in a while, giving Progen the chance to recover – which was getting easier as he created more and more defenders in the bloodstream.

Overall, it was manageable…if barely. However, the dungeon crystal was feeling much better about the state of how things were, and he wasn’t too worried about things falling apart if Marstin decided to keep using his mana like he was. The anemic reactions were enough to let the body know it was going too far, at least, and the downtime gave Progen the opportunity to strengthen his position.

But he wasn’t the only one doing some strengthening. Not only was Marstin learning how to control his magical energy to perform in a way that he desired – usually with a fumbling non-expertise – through Progen’s assistance, but the auraloid gland’s ability to hold mana was increasing as time went on. From what Progen and Stemmy could tell by the end of the practice session, Marstin’s mana capacity was such that if it were all emptied into the body again like it had been when the Blood Curse corrupted it, there was a very good possibility that the Magic Amplifiers would cause the body to destroy itself from the inside if it wasn’t handled carefully.

“Do you think I should just remove them?” he asked Stemmy after the last training session. “They are beneficial, I’ll give you that, and if there weren’t so many problems with the circulatory system right now he could be extremely powerful…but is it worth the risk having them here?”

If you remove them, all of the work he has done learning how to use his magical energy would be wasted, as it all relies on the Amplifiers being there. Since it seems as though he now knows how to instinctively control the flow of mana coming from the gland, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

While those were good reasons – and were reasons he agreed with, in fact – Progen couldn’t help but be worried. It could be that he had seen that the Magic Amplifiers were a double-edged blade since they could be used to create or destroy, but then again almost everything could be turned against the body in some way or another. The monsters roaming around the blood vessels made from red blood cells and platelets was proof enough of that.

Or, alternatively, it could be that he was worried that Marstin would lose control at some point and pour all of his mana through the special amplifying cells without any particular purpose. That would most certainly destroy the body, and the amount of magical energy that would come from such an event would probably shatter his crystal. The thought of his survival hanging on the whim of not just external sources but a mental “oops” from Marstin wasn’t very comforting.

But what really worried him, to the extent of everything else, was the fact that he still hadn’t seen or noticed any overt presence of the Blood Curse since it was released from the brain. Yes, the alterations in the Bloody Horned Skulls’ behavior and the introduction of the Blood Dragons were bad, and the energy from the Curse being utilized by Marstin was having an adverse effect on the bloodstream, but those things certainly weren't what Progen had expected when he learned that the Curse was on the loose. To put it simply, it was all a bit anticlimactic.

Not that he wanted to have to face any more challenges, especially since he had just recently gotten a handle on the blood problem. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

But Progen still wasn’t satisfied. He had been striving over the last year to not only gain access to the brain and control the body, but to destroy the malevolent entity known as the Blood Curse because of all of the trouble it had caused – none of which had worked out the way he wanted. Granted, he had access to the brain and had unlocked awesome abilities along the way; but control was still absent because of an inability to travel there without facing the dangers in the bloodstream.

Locating the Blood Curse was next to impossible, as well. Either it didn’t have a physical presence – which was why they couldn’t locate it – or it was hiding somehow; regardless of the reason, the satisfaction of finally defeating his enemy was denied to him.

Progen pondered the solution to that search. “Perhaps when I take control, I can more easily hunt it down?”

Potentially. Surviving until you arrive could be an issue, though.

“Yeah, I already know that,” he acknowledged. “But I think it’s about time I try, because the way things are going, I’ll never have an ideal time to make the trip.”

With that in mind, he spent the next hour building up a large force of multi-celled defenders in a specific area in the internal carotid artery, which was located near the body’s throat region. Over 1,000 Hexapus creatures scoured the surrounding blood vessel, leading all the way to the brain; his plan was to clear the way ahead of his arrival, so that there wasn’t already a massive invasion of monster threats when he arrived. It should be easy enough to slip into the bloodstream from there and then travel where I need to go.

Because of the massive build-up of his newest defensive forces, he couldn’t have done something like this even a few hours ago; now that he was prepared, he thought he had a fairly good chance of making it all the way without any mishaps. When the artery was as clear as he could determine with the help of multiple Tracker swarms, he began his journey through the digestive system.

The situation quickly got out of hand almost as soon as he exited the appendix. A communication from his assistant somehow shot through the digestive liquid that filled the small intestine, reaching his crystal.

Multiple punctures in the superior mesenteric artery near your location in the small intestine have been reported. Additional communications regarding lacerations are filtering in now.

“What? How?” Progen stopped where he was in the small intestine and looked for himself. He didn’t have to search very long before he found what Stemmy was talking about; the blood vessels nearest where he was, located on the other side of the intestinal walls – which supplied the necessary oxygen to the large organ – were currently under attack by at least 100 different Bloody Horned Skulls and a pair of Blood Dragons.

“Where did they come from? How were they not detected before now?” were the first 2 questions he asked, but there was no chance to wait for an answer – he needed to act now.

Fortunately, Progen had more than enough of his forces nearby to combat the monsters, who were essentially going berserk at the vessel wall. He ordered them closer so that they would attack and stop the Skulls from breaking through with their horns, as well as the Dragons easily slicing through the matrices holding the walls together. The dungeon crystal stayed frozen in shock at the savagery the monsters displayed in their effort to reach his location even as they were attacked from behind.

The red blood cell-constructed monsters didn’t react to the rear assault in the slightest.

“Stemmy! They’re going to break through!” Progen immediately realized he was in greater danger than he’d been in since the Parasyte nearly reached his location in the appendix…but then he calmed down a little after something occurred to him. “I think it’s fine – they can’t survive out of the bloodstream, remember?”

Are you sure about that?

“I’m absolutely sure” The Skulls broke through the blood vessel and were already starting on the intestinal wall. “Or at least adequately confident that I’ll be safe.” The monsters were within a few layers of cells now from reaching the digestive system and didn’t seem to have fallen apart quite yet. “Fairly certain I’ll be just fine.” The first Skull broke through even as its comrades were easily slaughtered from behind. “I should be good; that Skull is going to dissolve any moment now.”

It didn’t.

Progen sped away down the small intestine following his original path with the Skull and two of its friends that had managed to squeeze through into the intestine following close behind. A quick peek at his defenders slaughtering the rest that were still in the blood vessel let him know that help from that quarter wasn’t coming any time soon, so he turned to his full reserve of mana to create a half-dozen Bladed Hexapus’ ahead of him.

Creating on the run was a little more difficult than he expected, but nothing hindered his efforts other than having to concentrate. Within moments, he fled past the newly created defenders and slowed down as they slammed into the pursuing Skulls with reckless abandon. Luckily, it didn’t seem to matter how wildly they threw themselves into danger, because the monsters didn’t even acknowledge they were there; they were so focused on Progen’s crystal that they were sliced apart without fighting back in the slightest.

Additional reports of breakthroughs communicated ahead of you.

“How do they even know I’m here?!” The answer to that question was obvious, though: the Blood Curse. Somehow it was tracking him, even if he couldn’t track it.

You are about to have incoming.

Looking ahead, he could see that Stemmy was right; with all of the local forces engaged in destroying the monsters that had just attacked him further back, the group ahead – which was a lot smaller, thankfully – was already breaking through into the intestine. This time, there were 2 Dragons and approximately 25 Skulls, too much for the 6 Hexapus creatures he had created to defend him moments ago.

There was no other option. “Time to retreat for now!” he shouted, before spending all of the incoming and free-floating mana that had come from the destruction of the monsters to create even more defenders, sending them all ahead to wipe out those that had breached the digestive system.

There are even more reports of attacks on the artery all along the small intestine.

Even as he fled back to the appendix, preparing to place dozens of traps around his location to prevent any of them from reaching his crystal or Stemmy, he looked around the artery that his assistant was referencing. In at least a dozen different places, the blood vessel wall was being torn apart with the sole purpose of reaching the intestine he was traveling through. Progen hurriedly produced a Magic Amplifier near one of the Skulls attacking the vessel walls and watched in horror as those that had been identified by his Trackers were revealed.

Every single monster in the bloodstream was now heading straight for his location, completely ignoring their previous consumption of red blood cells as they tracked him.

Progen’s forces in the digestive system were bolstered by additional Hexapus’ and Anchors flowing in from the bloodstream where the Skulls had broken through, working together to eliminate those that were chasing him. Even as he ordered more down from other parts of the circulatory system to destroy those just now trying to carve their way through walls, he knew they would be too late to prevent at least another few sites from making their way through.

Moving faster than he’d thought he could, Progen reached the appendix and stopped near Stemmy, even as he prepared to create additional defenses. He was hoping to create a defensive barrier that would hold off the rest of the attacking Skulls and Dragons until his defenders arrived…but there was no need.

As soon as he passed into the appendix, the mass migration of the monsters stopped. Those that had been tearing their way through the blood vessel and intestinal walls halted in their actions, instead turning back to the bloodstream, and they began ingesting more red blood cells – as if that was what they had been doing all along.

With no more trying to break through into the intestine, Progen spent his mana on repairing what had already been done, which was only possible when the Skulls and Dragons weren’t actively inside of the wounds. His own forces that were dispatched to combat the invaders that swarmed over the monsters, which finally fought back, freed from their single-minded rampage to see Progen’s crystal form shattered.

So many questions ran through his mind, not the least being why he seemed to disappear from their “sight” as soon as he entered the appendix.

I would assume it is because the substantial amount of time you have spent in the appendix has turned this organ into your designated Crystal Room. Certain protections obviously work as well inside of this body as they would inside of a mountain.

“My Crystal Room?” It took him a moment to remember what that meant, but it finally occurred to him. “That’s right! I cannot be detected through magical means when I’m in my Crystal Room; it is usually designed so that Adventurers cannot locate and destroy my crystal from afar, but I guess it works just as well on a Blood Curse.” Since he was more than certain that it was the Blood Curse’s doing that had caused all of the monsters to home in on his location when he left the appendix, his Crystal Room was extremely beneficial for staying hidden from the Curse’s machinations.

“That might also explain why I can’t locate this Curse; somehow, it has duplicated some of the protections that my own Room affords me, so I cannot see it.”

That is quite likely.

Regardless of whether he was right, what just happened told him two things. One, the Blood Curse was still obviously in the body somewhere and was now more concerned with destroying Progen than strictly following its orders. Possibly because I have now influenced the entire body? He didn’t know, nor did he think it mattered.

Secondly, he was absolutely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he attempted to reach the brain before he eliminated the problem in the circulatory system, his efforts would end up with him being crunched between the condensed platelet teeth of a Bloody Horned Skull. In effect, he was stuck where he was for the foreseeable future, unless something drastic happened to change his circumstances.

“And something drastic happening is rarely something good for me or this body.”

Affirmative.

Chapter 46

The elder shifted from her seat to the door before Marstin had time to speak. “Come, young hunter, let us see what is so urgent.”

Marstin followed the elder out of the tent, whereupon they found a male member of the Frost Wolf tribe kneeling respectfully. “The messenger has been taken to your personal audience tent, Elder,” the messenger said, his head remaining bowed and respectful. “Shall I escort you and the outsider there?”

“Young hunter, not outsider,” the elder scolded him lightly, knocking the messenger on the head with her staff to Marstin’s bemusement. “He has earned his right through the hunt. And no, I shall go with the young hunter. You are to return to your post.”

“Yes, Elder,” the messenger acknowledged, running off back toward the entrance of the ice cave.

“Follow me now once more,” the elder said, leading the way at a slightly hurried pace. “Best to not keep these things waiting.”

The two soon arrived at the tent where Marstin had unsealed the blood curse. “Brack, it’s you?” Marstin asked in bewilderment upon entering the tent. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, here and there,” the black-clothed figure smiled and shrugged carelessly. “I told your friends I’d be back once you were ready to leave, but time is not on your side it seems. You need to return to Iora with the utmost speed so everyone can avoid the ‘bad ending’, so to speak.” The disguised puppet gave Marstin what he assumed to be an eyeless once over. “You seem better, so we should go. I’ve already prepped the horses for our return.”

“The young hunter is not in any state to return yet,” the elder disagreed, though for once not bothering to use her staff to enunciate her point. “He hasn’t had enough time to fully adapt to changes in his body, not enough time to train with his new magic.”

“Yes, well, we all wish that we had a little more time to get things done and be ready whenever the need strikes us,” Brack shrugged, “but, desperate times call for desperate measures. The trial has turned into a mess, due to Marstin’s escape from the city and subsequently being charged with the crime of attempted assassination. Thankfully, it seems that there were a few still conscious enough to remember Marstin saving everybody, so he isn't a kill-on-sight target for most. But his inability to explain himself has allowed others to criticize the events that took place in Graniton. They questioned the veracity of the investigation, if it turns out Marstin is actually a criminal, and they've redrawn focus onto your past as a thief for the Thieves’ Guild in order to slow down proceedings and deflect from the original issue.”

Marstin grimaced in annoyance and anger. He never enjoyed when others used his past to bring him down or to criticize his actions and motives. But he hesitated on the idea of going back without a proper plan or course of action.

“Has anything changed while I've been here?” he asked. “Has Queen Nagri or Yolna uncovered any new evidence or leads towards the true enemy's identity or who ordered the prince's assassination?”

“Nothing new has come out of it,” Brack shook their head, “the attack on the Thieves’ Guild was repelled by the boss, but she's been forced to evacuate to the secondary hideout, and she temporarily ordered the thieves out of the capital until things calm down. The queen and her royal guard, on the other hand, have had their hands full trying to keep the trial on track and ensuring the safety of all the various nobles, both domestic and foreign. The attack on the Prince made everyone quite nervous, as you can imagine. As things are, your unsealed blood curse’s connection is our only lead to the identity of the enemy, according to the boss. She's unable to travel here to pick you up herself as she's preparing a strike group to fight the perpetrator, once you've returned and she tracks him or her down through the blood curse.”

Marstin didn't feel any better about the situation. True, his goal and unsealing the blood curse had been achieved; but circumstances seem to be forcing him into a conflict for which he was ill-prepared. Both his thief training and his adventure training were urgently telling him that he needed more time to prepare, to scout, and to determine the best way to get the job done without wasting time, money, or people. He privately included himself as part of the people bit.

“At this rate, what will happen if I don't return soon?” Marstin asked.

“Nothing good, I'm afraid,” Brack shook their head. “Neither the dignitaries nor the judge from the church have unlimited time; and they are becoming increasingly frustrated and dismissive of the trial, due to the continuous delays and lack of critical first-person testimony -- that means you. Don't get me wrong, you are not the sole most important piece in the trial; but rather, your existence is being used to prevent the trial from reaching that critical piece of evidence. And the boss is worried that the more time is spent arguing, the more time the enemy will have to retrieve or destroy the evidence despite its many safety precautions.”

“I don't recall ever hearing about a critical piece of evidence,” Marstin said thoughtfully. “Is it something that has been kept a secret up until the trial began?”

“Something like that,” Brack said with a dismissive wave, “even the boss isn’t sure what the Queen's pulled out of her sleeve so to speak, but it's been her main source of confidence in this trial, so there must be something about it that's important. Mind you, the boss is fairly certain that the queen is actually lying about the critical piece of evidence in order to buy time for you. Or rather, you could be her critical piece of evidence in some way we aren't sure about. Still, the point returns that you are needed to return to Iora as soon as possible.”

“I've been listening to this,” the elder spoke up, drawing the attention of the young man and puppet to her. She'd somehow moved to her chair while the two had been talking and was tapping her staff thoughtfully as it lay across her lap. “And I have a few clarifying questions. This trial, is it related to the ones who have been attempting to return to the status quo? The ones who took fatal action against King Tormund because he attempted to mend relations with the tribes?”

“That seems to be the case,” Marstin agreed. “Things also seemed to be related to the demon mind control incident in Graniton and my curse. Why do you ask?”

The elder didn't answer for a moment, merely strumming her fingers across her staff as she thought to herself. “Hm, I see. If that's the case, then that changes things. The both of you should get ready to leave, then. Young hunter, it is on you to persuade your friends within the tribes to not accompany you to the capital. I have no doubt that they would be eager to help you, but the ceremony has only just begun, and it is unlikely they will live to see the next one in 100 years, not to mention that their presence would likely be an unnecessary political burden on you, while you attempt to do what needs to be done in the capital. The affairs of your country should be dealt with by the citizens of your country, not by outsiders such as us.”

“However,” she said, quickly pointing her staff at Marstin. “That doesn't mean that we will not be able to lend you our assistance. If you'll give me a little time, I may be able to provide you with something to help turn the tides of the trial and this wretched fate that has bound you to events beyond your control.”

Marstin gave Brack a questioning look. The puppet shrugged.

“Waiting a few minutes will not mean life or death,” the black-clothed thief agreed. “Do you wish for us to remain here for your return?”

“That won't be necessary,” the elder shook her head. “Gather what you need and wait with your rides at the entrance to the ice cavern. If things go as I expect they will, I will have Olivia, or myself, deliver something to you to take with you back to Iora.” With that said, the elder stood up and walked out of the tent through a back flap Marstin hadn't noticed before.

“You seemed a bit more respectful towards her than anybody else I've seen you talk to,” Marstin observed.

“You would be, too, if you could recognize and understand how strong that person is,” Brack said without their characteristic good-natured smile. “Now let's go and gather the provisions we need. We won't have much time to do any hunting or cooking this time.”

The duo left the tent through the front entrance and met back up with Yarrow, Julia, Yule, and Etna, who were all waiting for Marstin in the central Plaza near where the Ice Wyvern had been dismantled.

“So, you're heading back?” Yarrow asked. The older adventurer stood up and softly slammed the butt of her staff into the ground. “When are we leaving?”

“I am touched by your friendship, but you should not come,” Marstin dissuaded her, shaking his head, “and this isn't about danger, or loyalty, or anything else like that. The same goes for you, my adventuring companions, my friends,” he said while looking at the other three girls. “This centennial winter is an important part of your culture and heritage, and I would have to live with the guilt of you missing it for the rest of my life if you were to come with me. I'm well aware that members of the tribes do not live as long as other humans; would you truly be happy not being able to converse with your ancestors?”

The four tribal adventures all looked terribly troubled by his words. Marstin wasn't offended; their very willingness to come with him was already proof enough that he knew good people. But he wasn't on a mission to save the world, and he wasn't even sure if he was on a mission to save the country. After all, who was he to say what method of ruling what's best? Marstin still couldn't be trusted with advanced mathematics or reading, thanks to his orphan heritage. This conflict was one between Marstin and the one who condemned his life to the painful hell he'd lived through, and the suffering they'd inflicted on his friends and the town of Graniton. The girls needed to stay and be a part of their heritage and culture; there would be other fights in the future they could join him on, if he survived this one.

“Why couldn't you have said something easier to refute?” Yarrow grimaced as she appeared to be grinding her teeth in frustration. “I wasn't able to help you with Ghevin Drestice or with the thief attack on the caravan.” After a moment’s additional hesitation, she finally let out a reluctant sigh. “Alright, you win, I suppose. But stay safe; try to not get into too much trouble before these girls rejoin you and Kyra.”

“Sure, right after this current trouble is over,” Marstin shrugged.

He was taken aback with the hugs; all four girls wrapped their arms tightly around him and squeezed. Jillia was weeping, and even Etna looked less snarky than usual. When they finished, the girls offered to help Brack get what he needed for provisions. The disguised puppet showed them the list, and between the six of them, they managed to gather enough food for two (Brack’s portion would be given to Marstin) and some herbal kits in case Marstin was hurt while using his ‘red magic’.

Secretly, Jillia snuck some of the smoked Ice Wyvern meat to Marstin, who thanked her graciously.

When they were done, the girls bid farewell to the traveling duo as the two made their way out of the ice cavern and up to the surface. Marstin reflexively stretched in the mid-afternoon sun, enjoying the rare clear sky and normal frigid temperature while Brack went off to get their horses. Suddenly, Marstin doubled over in pain, as something inside of his gut felt like it was being torn apart. The feeling persisted for a few seconds, before it started to fade. Standing straight up again, he looked down at his stomach to see if he had been stabbed, but his armor looked completely unblemished. By the time Brack returned, Marstin couldn’t even feel an echo of the pain, so he promptly put it out of his mind.

Brack brought over the horses and handed one of the reins to Marstin. “We’ll be able to take the main roads for the first two days,” Brack said after checking the harness straps. “A major blizzard went through around three days ago, forcing all military personnel back temporarily. Their patrols won’t be back to full strength until the week is over.”

“That’s good,” Marstin nodded, “So we’ll get back to Iora on the third day? How are we getting in?”

“We just need to get into the outer district, so we can use one of the shortcuts,” Brack explained. “I’ll choose which one once we arrive. The patrols and other annoyances may have been driven out of the guild’s hideout, but there’s a chance some of our secret ways not connected to the base have been leaked as well. The boss still isn’t sure how they were able to find the hideout, so she’s ordered me to be as careful as possible.”

Marstin brushed his horse as he thought for a moment. “Your boss, Yolna, uses her magic to separate the space of the hideout away from the city, right?”

“Something like that,” Brack agreed. “Why?”

“How does one get in normally?” Marstin wondered.

“As you saw me do it; knock at the right spot while holding the guild emblem. The guild master checks your identity as you pass through the door, and if you’re meant to be there, you get there. Otherwise, you’d just walk into a hidden storage room.”

“Can she detect magic on a person when they’re passing through?” Marstin pressed.

“Nothing specific, as I understand it, but she can feel a general idea of the type of magic on a person, usually their equipment,” Brack turned and raised the eyebrow portion of their covered face in a very human-like motion. “Do you have an idea?”

“If a thief was caught by the patrols, but given over to someone with a demon mind control stone instead of to the jailers,” Marstin reasoned aloud, “wouldn’t they be able to have that thief sneak something into the hideout in a spatial bag of some kind, like an Adventurer Bag?”

“That wouldn’t work,” Brack shook their head. “The raid was very coordinated, with multiple points of entry created via strikes against the weak portions of the spatial barrier. Besides us, only one or two thieves entered the base earlier that day.”

“I didn’t say it had to be that day,” Marstin pointed out. “What if a number of mind-controlled thieves were sent in over the course of say, several months. Sleeping agents of the enemy, if you will, with orders delivered by another controlled thief when the time was right.”

Brack crossed their arms and tilted their head back and forth.

“This tactic is very possible,” they finally said, their tone returning to the serious monotone of the puppet. “Long term infiltration is the only logical answer, given the raid team’s level of strength. In addition, a few thieves managed to escape encirclements, due to various secondary reasons, such as luck and sacrifice. The probability of them having been compromised is high. Sufficient danger to user detected, activating emergency messaging system.”

Marstin was temporarily blinded by a bright light that flashed briefly from the puppet’s head, and rubbed his eyes until the spots vanished.

The puppet shook after a moment and the lazy smile returned.

“Nice job, Marstin,” Brack chuckled. “The possibility of rogue agents had been dismissed due to a lack of motive, but your observation that the same thing that occurred in Graniton could happen to us was something neither I nor the boss would have thought of until it was too late. The enemy would still have that trick hidden, if not for you also, I suppose.” They tilted their head. “I’ve received a response from the boss. They’ve agreed with your statement and have decided to retreat from the secondary hideout just in case. They will meet us at the Front Base instead, alongside a different group of helpers.”

“Hopefully I wasn’t overthinking things,” Marstin rubbed his cheek, feeling a bit awkward at how seriously his words had been taken. “I wouldn’t want to waste any time.”

“Never doubt your instincts, little thief,” Brack said seriously. “They’ll save you more time than a good weapon.”

“The metal man is correct,” the elder agreed, causing Marstin to jump as she’d appeared right beside him. “All hunters must learn to trust their instincts, as it is the culmination of training and observation.”

“Have you brought us something useful?” Brack asked, unperturbed by her appearance.

“Indeed, I have,” the elder smiled toothily. “I was able to persuade the other elders, with minimal effort, to entrust this into your hands. We’ve been holding on to it for many years, but did not have the means to put it to good use, nor the correct timing to ensure it would have the right impact. Your arrival we have decided to take as a sign from fate, and so entrust this malicious token of betrayal into your hands.”

From within her bag, which she’d hung on her belt, the elder removed something wrapped in a cloth and handed it over to Marstin. The young adventurer accepted it cautiously and slowly unwrapped it, revealing a metallic orb.

“What is this?” Marstin asked curiously.

“A relic,” Brack noted with interest. “I recognize it; I’m made of a similar outer casing. Is this the one that King Tormund was examining? The boss had lent it to him since he’d been pestering her.”

“What’s it do?” Marstin asked.

“It’s a living record,” the elder explained. “Much like your metal friend here. This was recovered from the scene of the king’s death ten years ago.”

“How’d you get it?” Marstin raised an eyebrow. “And, why didn’t you say anything back then?”

The elder sighed and shook her head. “The king had just departed from a meeting with the Silver Serpent tribe, having been unable to come to a new trade agreement with them. A few of the younger men from the tribe snuck away to play tricks on the king’s group, only to find the scene of the attack. They found the dying king, who handed them the orb before dying. They claim he was beyond recovery, though the eyes of youth are not the best things to trust on word alone. Scared, they made off with this token and fled before anyone else arrived. Because of their foolishness, none of the tribes could come forth with this, as it would tie us to the assassination. And once the king’s allies began dying, we were unable to trust anyone else with it.”

“We have never been able to unlock its mysteries,” she continued. “And we only know of its purpose from a note the king had left with it. Hopefully, your allies will have better luck with it than we have had. If this is too great a gift in your mind, then consider it a trade for the earring device you gave to young Etna. May the gods bless your journey back, as well as bless your mission.”

She sneakily moved her head from side to side, like a child about to play a trick. “And, since I happen to be considered an extension of the gods’ will during this ceremony, allow me to make that blessing a bit more substantial.” With a low chuckle, she raised her staff and waved it at the horses, causing a small breeze to pass by through Marstin’s hair. He blinked but found nothing seemed to have changed with the horses.

The elder, on the other hand, had vanished.

“You seem to have made quite the positive impression,” Brack laughed while leaping onto their horse. “It appears our journey will be far simpler than I expected. Get ready for quite the ride!”

Confused, and a little worried about Brack’s seemingly ominous words, Marstin lifted himself onto his own horse.

“Let’s ride!” Brack shouted.

Suddenly, Marstin felt his stomach drop as his body surged ahead with inhuman speed. A green and white light burst into being around the legs of the horses, and the two beasts let out cries of joy as their speed quadrupled. The young adventurer felt sick as the trees zoomed by him almost as blurs, his stomach taking longer than he expected to catch up to the rest of his body.

“The blessings of the wind ride with us!” Brack laughed. “That elder truly is a funny one; I’d bet she’s laughing just imagining the look on your face right now!”

Marstin didn’t have the ability to answer.

As the duo flew down snow paths, the sun continued to slowly set to their right, bathing the white landscape a floundering of colors. The last rays of the sun soon illuminated the night sky, transforming into long streaks of color that weaved like great serpents through the stars.

“The aurora of the north,” Brack sighed. “A rare sight only to be seen in clear skies, a far more genuine expression of beauty than Iora’s colorful mess, don’t you think?”

Though he still couldn’t say anything, Marstin’s eyes were illuminated by the slowly shifting streams of light. Indeed, the true jewel of the north could not be compared to the work of human hands. It was something only the world could create, much like his own future.

They traveled overnight and into the next day, with the reason for this clear once they stopped as the magic around the horses vanished into the cool breeze.

“It did its job,” the black-clothed thief shrugged off the loss of the magic. “To have even had it in the first place was a blessing. It really saved us a lot of time.”

“You mean we’ll be able to reach Iora tomorrow?” Marstin asked.

“Iora? Oh, we passed that little while ago,” Brack chortled at the look on Marstin’s face. “Didn’t I tell you the plan had changed? We’re heading to the Front Base.”

“And that is, where?” Marstin asked patiently.

“It’s a surprise,” the thief said, refusing to say anymore.

Marstin gave up trying to question the tight-lipped thief and prepared for bed. He reluctantly took off his dress armor to wash it, having been unable to do so while with the tribes. The stink made his enhanced nose curl up, though not as bad as it could have been, he supposed. At least it was his own smell and not someone else’s.

When he was done, he quickly swallowed the rations Brack passed to him and crawled into his tent for the night.

Marstin’s dream that night was strange. He couldn’t quite remember what had occurred, but he seemed to recall a mountain arguing with the aurora before snapping his arm like a toothpick. Strangely, his left arm did feel a little sore for some reason, but the young adventurer attributed that to a poor sleeping posture. Brack did make an odd recommendation for herbs to settle night terrors before they left, which confused Marstin.

The duo traveled several more days, Marstin noting that they appeared to have entered the southern part of the country at some point as he could recognize the familiar southern forests. In fact, as the two continued to travel, Marstin had the strangest feeling he knew where they were going.

“Brack? Are we. . .?” Marstin asked hesitantly.

“Ah look, there’s our destination!” the puppet thief suddenly pointed. Marstin looked up and recognized the tall granite walls of Graniton, and his heart fluttered. “See, I knew you’d be surprised.”

“Why did we come back to Graniton? Don’t I need to be at Iora?” Marstin pressed worryingly.

“If the guild was compromised, then anywhere we go could be a trap,” Brack twirled his fingers. “So, we’re heading to the Front Base. The base in the front, the southern front, get it? It’s a name hidden in a joke you see. I couldn’t think of anything good for Stargazer at the time.”

“Could use some work,” Marstin groaned. “But how do you plan on getting me into the city to reach the inn? Wouldn’t the ‘bad guys’ think of looking for me here too?”

“There’s a really simple solution actually!”

Chapter 47

They were finally back on the move, which made Progen enthusiastic about the traveling. Though, to be fair, it was usually the destination that always seemed to end up being some sort of hassle, but he wasn’t going to complain. Why? Because Marstin wasn’t able to continue practicing his magical energy aura manipulation while they were on the move.

With the relaxation that came with the absence of frequent bloodborne monster attacks, the dungeon crystal was finally able to fully replace all of the destroyed or otherwise consumed red blood cells in the body. Or at least, replace them up to a point; the Skulls and Dragons were still appearing at random intervals, in random numbers, and in random places – which usually consumed billions of cells every minute.

He knew this because he had actually stumbled upon a few Skulls at one point that were very recently created, with only about a dozen red blood cells put together in an extracellular matrix; despite their small size, it was shocking how quickly they could “eat” and consume tens of thousands of red blood cells in a matter of seconds, growing their forms at an exponential rate at first before slowing down. He had deliberately held off on destroying them until he could watch the beginning stages of their development; once they reached a certain size, they still grew, but the speed of their growth slowed down considerably. That was why they were so detrimental to the overall red blood cell count, and why they were hard to locate when they were small enough not to be as much of a physical danger – because they weren’t small for very long.

Despite this knowledge, Progen was happy that he had achieved an equilibrium of sorts with how many were being consumed with how many were being made. He wasn’t happy about being trapped in one place inside of his own dungeon, though it was something he would continue to work on as he searched every space in the body where the Blood Curse could be hiding. Except that the search was likely futile.

Since your observations of the body are through the use of your mana’s influence through each system, if the Curse is applying the same sort of camouflage that you are, you could be staring straight at it without even seeing it.

What Stemmy was saying was that Progen had to observe the Curse – in whatever form it was in – physically, as in within range of his actual crystal. He had a limited field of vision as a dungeon crystal, which was even more hampered because the body was full of cells and molecules and protein strands and undigested nutrients and so much more. Lack of light didn’t really matter, but his range was pitifully small inside the body because of all of the obstacles. All he could say for sure was that the Blood Curse was certainly not inside of the appendix, but that was about it as far as locating the elusive entity went.

Still, he hoped to get lucky and notice something out of place that might indicate where the Blood Curse might be. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if he could venture out of the appendix and check with his crystal, because of the danger of attracting all of the monsters in the bloodstream. Then there was the strange fact that the Curse didn’t seem to know where Progen was located any more, considering that it had obviously followed him when his crystal had been inside the small intestine.

If I remember correctly, once out of sight of observation by magical means, the location of a dungeon crystal is forgotten unless seen physically.

Again, it was the physical part that both helped and worried him. Since the Blood Curse had only observed him through magical means, it couldn’t find his hideout; Progen was just worried that the same might apply to his searching, even if he did manage to see something out of place. It was quite possible that he might have already found it multiple times, but he would’ve forgotten it almost immediately afterwards.

At least it broke up the monotony of hunting down and killing the bloodborne monsters.

During the horseback journey, which Stemmy overheard was back to the city where all of these circulatory problems had cropped up in the first place – which Progen thought was a horrible idea, but couldn’t stop it – the dungeon crystal maintained low levels of monsters while doing what he could with improving the rest of the body. Now that he didn’t have to necessarily rely on Marstin consuming food for the necessary nutrients (at least after the first few meals back with the tribal people that included just about everything he could possibly need), Progen had taken it upon himself to manually strengthen all of the bones in the body through the use of condensed calcium molecules and collagen protein strands; the calcium worked to harden the bones themselves so they would be much more resistant to breaking – almost to the point of steel’s hardness in the larger bones – while the collagen helped to ensure it was flexible enough to withstand impacts without becoming brittle in the process.

He hadn’t really had a chance to do that previously for a few reasons. For one, he’d never had enough materials to keep the process consistent; strengthening one side of the body without the other would make it lopsided and prone to damage. In addition, it worked better if he had enough material to complete an entire bone at the same time; otherwise the differences in strength and flexibility could cause some issues – which he found out the first night when he accidentally cracked the left radius bone in Marstin’s arm when he was sleeping on it. Thankfully, Stemmy was able to block the pain entirely until Progen was able to fix it by completing the entire bone.

The bones in the body weren’t the only thing that he improved, however.

Improving the muscular system, which he had already done marginally through the infusion of his mana throughout the muscle tissue, was similar yet different from strengthening bones.

Normally, muscle growth is achieved when trauma to the muscle fibers is repaired by the surrounding satellite cells fusing together with those same muscle fibers. This ultimately results in the replication of satellite cells to replace those fused with the fibers; those which stay fused with the fibers form new myofibrils that increase in number and thickness. At that point, the muscle fibers create actin and myosin proteins to act as contractile myofilaments—

Progen tried to follow along as Stemmy explained the process, but it was much easier to just watch it in action. After a long day of riding a horse on the journey, Marstin’s muscles had suffered this “trauma” that his assistant had explained; the dungeon crystal had seen it plenty of times before through normal use, but it was never anything that needed to be repaired – except when mana was used to enhance the body. At that point, the muscles were thoroughly wrecked after such abuse, and Progen had needed to heal them – and return them to the state they were previously. He never gave the body a chance to heal them, mainly because the damage was so great that it probably wouldn’t have benefitted anything.

But now that he actually observed the process and could fully understand what was happening, along with recognizing the proteins used in the process, he knew what he had to do. One night when Marstin was sleeping (not the same night that Progen broke an arm bone, at least), he had Stemmy block out all nerve signals associated with the muscle tissue from the body’s lower half from reaching the brain. When that was complete, he went to work with hundreds of Bladed Hexapus creatures on the muscle fibers, causing all sorts of “trauma” to large sections of the muscles in the lower legs and feet.

He then was able to produce all of the single-nucleus satellite cells that Stemmy had mentioned, use mana to fuse them with the damaged muscle fibers, and then provide enough proteins for the areas to form the myofilaments that attached all of the fibers together, strengthening the entire muscle. He also used some extra mana to condense the fibers down as tightly as possible while still maintaining their strength and functionality; the extra muscle wasn’t exactly little, and if it was allowed to expand outward it would’ve burst through the skin.

With his mana influencing the entire muscular system, the process was remarkably quick compared to how it would work naturally, which was a necessary benefit. All of the damage that was done to the muscles would have ensured that Marstin wouldn’t have been able to even stand up the next day if he had to wait for them to finish rebuilding themselves.

All in all, it took approximately 6 hours and required a lot of mana – just over 100,000 for the creation of satellite cells, proteins, and condensation of the fibers. Thankfully, the presence of monsters throughout the bloodstream allowed Progen to constantly accumulate more, so it was easily affordable. The next night he continued his campaign to improve every muscle in the body, which really was only possible while Marstin was asleep due to the numbing of entire sections of his body.

Unfortunately, with all of the strengthening, improving, and growing going on, there was one thing that he couldn’t do without the proper material: render Marstin physically larger by growing more of his bones. That kind of growth had stopped a while ago. Additional monster cores were apparently hard to come by, and he hadn’t reactivated the need within Marstin to consume them. Understandably, the monster cores that had caused so many problems for Progen was the main reason for this.

Overall, the added benefit to all of the strengthening he was doing was…well…selfish, in part. The next time that Marstin used his mana to improve his strength, speed, and reflexes, his body would be much more suited to withstanding the enhancements granted by the magical energy. If the body could handle it without getting thoroughly wrecked, Marstin wouldn’t need to heal himself – and that reduction in his use of mana was worth it all by itself. Any extra inundations of magical energy only tended to rile up the monsters in the circulatory system, after all, so the less often that happened, the better.

Before Progen was even ready for it, their trip was complete.

Chapter 48

“Simple, my butt,” Marstin mumbled as he climbed slowly. “Simple for them at least. I still have to do all the hard work.” The young adventurer was currently climbing the tall wall that surrounded the town by using his ‘blue aura’ to mold the stone into holes using his hands, and closing them behind him using his feet. Thankfully, the wall around Graniton wasn’t nearly as tall as the three in Iora, but it still wasn’t exactly a walk in the woods to climb.

That being said, Marstin was surprised to find that the climb wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d been expecting. Compared to his initial infiltration of Ghevin Drestice’s manor the previous year, soon to be an anniversary in a few weeks, the young man found this endeavor far easier to accomplish. He wasn’t even breathing very hard, to his continued surprise, and in a short amount of time, he was able to lift himself over the wall into the eastern district of Graniton. He parkoured down to the ground using the closer roofs and flew through the back alleys like a fish returned to water. When he reached the main road where the Stargazer Inn stood, he quickly scouted the area for any signs of trouble.

Graniton at night wasn’t nearly as bustling as Iora was, and most of the people walking around were patrol guards for the city, though Marstin did spy several armored men and women milling about outside stores pretending to be guards, even though their armor clearly was more expensive than anything a Graniton guard could afford.

As Marstin considered the best course of action, he was unprepared for the hand that grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back into the alley. Whirling around, Marstin attempted to defend himself with his daggers, only to be caught by the massive hands of a smiling guild master.

“You’re still green, aren’t you, aye Marstin?” The guild master greeted him with a wide smile before pulling the much smaller adventurer into a mammoth hug. “It’s wonderful to see you safe and sound again.”

Marstin felt the warmth of the large half-devil wash over him, and he felt an odd comfort from it, more than he’d been expecting. It was less familiar and more. . . familial, in a way.

The guild master released Marstin and patted him down with a quick once over. “You seem to be doing better,” he observed. “Your body is much more like it should be at your age, I’m impressed you’ve managed to keep your physical training up while you’ve been gone. Don’t overdo it though; short gains will never outgrow long gains.” He flexed his massive muscles to demonstrate his point.

Marstin wasn’t quite sure what to say. What physical training routine? Did fainting count?

“Now, let’s go,” the guild master continued without a moment’s hesitation, propelling Marstin forward toward the main road with his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Lots to do, people to see, and all that.”

“Wait, wait,” Marstin tried to stop the guild master, failing miserably. “They’ll see me!”

“Those kids? They’ll see what I want them to see,” the guild master snorted as they entered the main road. Marstin saw the eyes of all the fake guards lock onto them, only to turn away in disinterest a moment later. He looked up into the cheeky smile of the guild master. “Congrats Marstin; you’ve become the lightest barrel of ale I’ve ever carried in the eyes of the masses.”

A little bewildered, Marstin accepted the words and allowed himself to be carried like a barrel into the Stargazer Inn.

“I brought the party!” the guild master shouted at his standard booming voice level as he pushed the entranceway open. “Who’s ready to revel?”

The doors shut behind the two of them, and then the inn was filled with the cheers of a massive crowd. Marstin’s mouth dropped as he saw the inn filled with what seemed to be every adventurer in Graniton, all smiling and clapping and. . . looking at him?

“What’s going on?” he finally stammered out.

“They’re all here for you, Marstin,” Yolna’s graceful figure exited from behind her receptionist desk and walked up to the young adventurer, embracing him in a hug. “They have all come to help us, more specifically, you.”

“Yeah!” Marcus from the Red Family lifted a tankard of ale and yelled. “Some prissy, rich putzes think they can frame our hero? They have another thing coming to them!” Other adventurers echoed the cry and lifted their own mugs, glasses, tankards, and cups in resounding agreement.

“I’m still drawing a blank here,” Marstin admitted. “I thought, I wasn’t well-liked here?”

“You’re mistaken,” a familiar voice said from behind Marstin. “Rather, it is understandable why you’d think that.” Marstin turned to find the former head receptionist of the Graniton Adventurer’s Guild, Barklin, entering the inn with a smile. The former receptionist was still tall and lanky with an impeccable dress sense, though Marstin noted he was wearing attire more akin to that of a spy than a receptionist now. “Guild master, I have finished laying the path. We should be clear to proceed tomorrow.”

“Very good,” the guild master laughed, slapping Barklin on the back and almost knocking the man down. “As for you Marstin, I do need to extend my personal apologies. See, it was under my instructions that many of the adventurers kept you at a distance these last few months.” The guild master’s happy face faded into a more solemn appearance. “I knew the storm that would be coming your way after you saved the town. In preparation for that, I took steps to ensure you’d have allies when you need them to help you weather the storm. Knowing the enemy wasn’t above using mind control, I felt that having any adventurer you weren’t well-acquainted with keep you at a distance would cause them to be overlooked by the enemy. As for those you did know, I made sure to keep them close by to me; I happen to be rather sensitive to demonic magic given my heritage.” His devil tail swayed back and forth behind him for emphasis. “That’s why I was recalled to the capital so Ghevin could do what he needed to before I’d have a chance to stop him. It wasn’t easy keeping this rag-tag group of miscreants from treating you with kindness. They seem to have a great deal of respect for anyone who puts their life on the line to save them!” He belted out the last two sentences, causing the crowd to cheer in response with scattered ‘Who are you calling a miscreant, you muscular monster?’.

The guild master snorted in response.

Marstin just couldn’t believe it, even as the guild master pushed him through the crowd toward the bar and every adventurer they passed thanked and cheered the young man as he passed. His mind couldn’t wrap around the idea of someone, anyone, truly feeling gratitude towards a complete stranger like himself. A former thief and orphan at that!

“You underestimate your deeds,” Yolna murmured as she sat down next to Marstin, while the guild master went behind the bar to mix some drinks. “Adventurers by their nature value teammates willing to put their life on the line for the good of the party. You’ve done that so many times by now: with the Thieves’ Guild, with Ghevin Drestice, with the various missions you’ve done for the town, and with orphans you’ve collected and organized into your group, Rogue. In the course of a year, you’ve helped improve the town, as well, as a result of these decisions, and now they have come at your hour of need to return the favor.”

“What, are we going to storm the capital?” Marstin joked.

“Yeah, it’ll be a blast,” the guild master grinned.

Marstin’s eye twitched, and he looked over at Yolna for her to laugh like that statement was a joke, but she only looked back at him with an amused expression. He gulped audibly.

“It’s just an old-fashioned protest for most of them,” the guild master explained as he shook his concoction around to aerate it. “Yolna will open a door to the noble district, and the guards will face down the combined might of every Graniton adventurer, proclaiming your innocence and heroics. If they can, they’re to enter the noble district and surround the castle for some real chaos. No violence, though; albeit they do have my permission to bash a few heads, if anyone gets too touchy feely with their weapons.” The guild master’s blood-thirsty expression really gave Marstin the impression of what a devil looked like before he returned to his normal smiling face. “While they’re creating a distraction, we’ll sneak in and enter the trial so you can give your long-awaited testimony. Then Yolna can use her magic to render the source of your blood curse visible to reveal the true culprit, and we arrest them. Easy plan, right?”

“It sounds crazy, and certainly simple,” Marstin admitted. “But would it help if we also had this?” He pulled the relic orb out of his adventurer bag and placed it on the bar.

Yolna started, before turning her head to give Brack, who was partying it up with a few adventurers, a dark look. The puppet easily ignored her.

“Well now, this seems interesting,” the guild master noted as he placed his concoction down. “What do we have here?”

“A relic I once excavated with Tormund in the bowels of old Iora,” Yolna murmured as she turned back and picked up the relic, examining it carefully. “It was also lost with him upon his death. How did you come by this, Marstin?”

“One of the tribal elders gave this to me,” he answered. “Apparently, all the tribes agreed I would be able to put it to good use with the events in motion as they are. They received it from the dying king himself and have been waiting to give it to the right people ever since.”

“Then Tormund must have recorded something on it,” Yolna’s eyes gleamed in excitement. “The king’s final words would certainly be significant, possibly even revolutionary. Hm, it appears he locked it, though. Nothing I can’t unlock, but we won’t have the time to see the recording ourselves before we move out tomorrow.”

“What if the recording is detrimental to our goals?” the guild master pointed out as he poured his concoction into three small glasses. “There is no guarantee that the recording will be useful, either. Is it worth the risk to bring along with us?”

“Tormund knew the end was coming,” Yolna gazed sadly down at the relic. “Not many realized how wise he was on top of his intelligence. This lock is something only I can unlock, because he and I invented it together during our studies. Whatever he’s left for us, he meant for it to be used for such an occasion.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you both together,” Marstin noted absentmindedly as he sipped the guild master’s mixed drink, finding it delicious. “But the two of you talk like you’re longtime friends. Did you know each other in your adventuring days?”

The guild master and Yolna exchanged a look and smiled.

“A story for another time,” Yarrow shook her head. “Perhaps when all this is over. For now, go join the revelry. When you wake up in your room tomorrow, it’ll be time for the final showdown.”

Chapter 49

Despite what felt like a long night of partying with the adventurers of Graniton, Marstin woke up in his room feeling refreshed and ready. The return to his cozy bed with its soft pillow and warm blanket after so many days really made the young adventurer appreciate the feeling of having somewhere to return to, but he fought off the desire to remain in comfort and forced himself out of bed.

After cleaning himself and relieving the remains of the previous night’s drinking and eating, Marstin laid out his armor and daggers for the morning maintenance. He inspected the daggers first, one by one in the new morning sun. Any nicks in the blades were sharpened away on the whetstone, which had become much smaller since leaving for the capital. He’d need to get a new one fairly soon. After that, he made sure the shaft leather along the handles was tightened and oiled for the hand daggers so they wouldn’t slip around in his grasp during a fight.

Next, he turned his attention to the dress armor he’d received from Sir Holler. The high price had proven its worth in Marstin’s eyes, demonstrating to him that Elijah had been right: A good set of armor was worth any price. Despite being constantly worn over the past week or two (had it really not been that long?), the armor lacked any holes or cuts in its leather. The enchantments for dark sight and muffled footsteps were still active without any damage to the enchantment lines within the boots and torso. The only things that needed work were the residual smell of the road and Marstin’s blood and sweat, which the young adventurer took care of with a thorough wash to remove all the grime and dirt. When he was finished, he lay the leather out in front of the window to let the sun dry up the water as he moved on to his supplies.

Thankfully, Marstin had not had to use too many of the goods in his adventurer bag during his most recent adventures. He had on him still: a half-set of 6 medium-grade potions, 34 general beast repellent smoke bombs, his (roughly still) newly bought vermin smoke bombs, the basic cooking set, his favorite pair of magical throwing daggers and their non-enchanted counterparts strapped around his body, his upgraded grappling hook and rope attachment, a 50-ft length of increased-durability rope, two sets of antidote potions covering the basics, and a week’s worth of rations (for anyone else, two weeks’ worth). Marstin also took the time to examine his pair of enchanted bracers. Their ability to deflect any magic attack once per 24 hours was a trump card he hadn’t needed to use yet, but Marstin was certain the time would be soon where he’d need to use them. He was thankful to have worn them when visiting Sir Holler, because the tailor had included them in his design of the dress armor so that wearing them would cause the silver bracers to blend into the silver portions of his arm.

Satisfied with the state of his equipment, Marstin slipped his night clothes off and put on the armor, ignoring the damp feeling so his body heat could finish evaporating the excess water in order to save some time. He did hold the crotch area over one of the torches however; chafing was something no adventurer was willing to experience more than once.

He finally made his bed, more because he could rather than because he needed to. The simple action of making a bed was one Marstin found a strange amount of satisfaction in doing, because one needed to own a bed to be able to make it (he ignored the logical fallacies to savor the feeling of belonging). When that was done, he exited the room and gave it one last look as he shut the door behind him.

He walked down the seemingly endless hallway of doors, his path lit by torches and by the glow from his room key, which pointed in the direction of the staircase. He reached the marvelous moving staircase and took the right side down to the tavern and entrance main floor.

The floor was already filled with adventurers milling about: eating and drinking, making future plans with their companions and friends, or going over their own armor and equipment. A few noticed his arrival and raised their greetings, causing a cascading wave of greetings from everyone, which made Marstin blush slightly as he did his best to return the greeting.

A tackle from behind him took Marstin by surprise, but a whiff of flour and sweet honey made him relax into the impromptu hug. He turned and returned the hug, sharing a smile with Kyra, who was dressed in her battle armor and a new pair of gauntlets that covered her hands and forearms.

“You weren’t thinking of going without me, were you?” she asked teasingly, though Marstin did discern a look of hidden concern in her micro expressions.

“I wouldn’t leave you out of this,” Marstin reassured her. “I don’t think you’d ever forgive me if I visited the capital again without you.”

“You know it,” Kyra smiled, relieved. She let go and gave Marstin a playful pinch, which made the younger boy wince and rub his arm in pain. “What do you think?” she asked as she showed off her new gauntlets. “I managed to swipe these from Elijah at a steal; they’re enchanted with increased durability and impact dampening, so I don’t have to worry so much about rebound when hitting harder objects, as with metal armor. That smiling thief of a merchant looked on the verge of tears after handing this over to me.”

“How’d you manage to do that?” Marstin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I used my secret weapon,” Kyra giggled and pointed. “An experienced and intimidating father.”

Marstin turned and saw the figure of Olen Risenflour speaking with the guild master. Unlike his usual apron, the intimidating figure of a man was wearing leather armor much like Kyra, with thick leather around most of his body and joints, while strips of leather between the sections allowed for maximum flexibility. A leather helm covered his head, its rounded top coming down to cover everything down to his neck, except the central portion of his face beyond a strip that ended with his nose.

“I always suspected, and was amazed to find out, my father’s rank when he retired was B, on the verge of reaching A,” Kyra continued as Marstin’s jaw fell open. “Even retired, he still has the strength of a normal B ranked adventurer, so the guild master especially came to our bakery to request his help with leading the adventurers. It took a good amount of persuasion, which I helped with, but we convinced my father to participate. He’ll be in charge of the protesting group.”

“Er,” Marstin picked his jaw off the ground. “How’d you manage to persuade him? Does he care that much about helping me?”

“Well, sure that too,” Kyra coughed. “But our bakery has received a contract to supply the adventurer’s depot with our hard bread as rations, and father will get to voice his annoyance at the rising price of flour and wheat directly at the capital.” Marstin could only laugh at that.

“There you are, Marstin!” Another familiar voice greeted from the young adventurer’s left. He turned to see the three members of the Iron Yaks adventuring group approaching. In the front of the trio was their leader, Oswald the warrior. He was dressed in standard, thick iron armor that gave him a good amount of protection all around. His trademark large shield still hung on his back, but today the short sword on his belt was joined with a longsword, and Marstin could see a large hammer sticking out from behind the shield. The C ranked adventurer’s short, black hair and pale-skinned face were mostly covered by an iron helm, of which he had the front lowered to reveal his confident and welcoming smile. “It’s good to see you again! I’d ask you if things were going well, but I guess needing an entire town of adventurers to back you up really answers that question, doesn’t it?” He laughed heartily.

“Quiet, you,” Frain, the swordswoman, scolded as she slapped her leader’s back, but to no avail. “Don’t give the kid such a hard time. The situation is somewhat serious, after all.” Frain was dressed in her familiar moderate iron armor, which still covered most of her body like her leader’s but was more flexible around the joints to allow her better flexibility in combat. Her hair was still cut short, though for once with a clean cut instead of looking like she’d taken to it with a knife. Resting on her belt were two swords: one longsword, and a thicker seax knife. Her right arm held a small buckler attached to her forearm guard, and for a bit of extra defense she also had a second attached to her left arm. Her left hand was currently holding an iron helm of her own, as well, another change to her usual attire. The red-haired swordswoman gave Kyra a quick look and frowned. “Kyra, you really should cut your hair,” she advised. “Nothing makes it easier for an enemy to take down a woman than long hair. Best to keep it short so you have nothing to be grabbed onto in a close-range fight.”

“I’ll be bunning it under my helmet before we go,” Kyra promised.

The last member of the group patted Marstin on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. George was the archer of the group, and was a surprisingly large man all-around with a bald head. If one were to judge him by his belly, then he’d be a fat man. However, the thickness of his arms, legs, and neck quickly gave the conclusion that this man could take a beating just as easily as he could dish one out. He was dressed in light leather armor, perfect for moving around the battlefield in a hurry, and a massive longbow was hung across his back next to a quiver holding a number of intimidatingly large arrows. George’s bow was three times the size of a normal bow, with what appeared to be an iron fiber instead of a thread string. As such, it made sense that his arrows were large, intimidating specimens that could, no doubt, rival artillery crossbows. Marstin had seen what they could do, and he privately admitted that the comparison wasn’t fair to the crossbow. It was too slow and inaccurate to be worth comparing to the seasoned archer. “We look forward to working with you again, Marstin,” The larger man guided his arguing companions away into the crowd.

“Ha ha, those two should really hurry up and get married,” said the familiar muscular, ginger giant Marcus as he walked up next to Kyra and Marstin. The leader of the adventuring group Red Family smiled wide with his red beard-covered smile, hefting his massive battle-axe onto his shoulder. His light leather armor appeared to be new, without any patches or new sewing lines. “We should be a good enough example of a working relationship, right honey?”

“These things will come with time and patience,” his wife Linda agreed, her hand wrapped with his as she leaned her head into Marcus’ shoulder. “It’s the way of things for everyone.” The tall, blonde-haired, young-looking woman was the only member of the church that Marstin knew, herself a follower of the God of Seasons and Cycles, Equinox. She and Marstin exchanged greeting nods, with the older woman giving him a kindly smile. “I look forward to helping you end this part of your life’s cycle, Marstin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about anything else now that we’re here,” Marcus’s younger and equally boisterous sister Shane declared as she slapped her chest, distracting Marstin for a moment as her bosom bounced slightly within her open cleavage in her open armor. Shane had the same red hair as her brother, as well as his chin, muscular build, nose, and lightly tanned skin. Her weapon of choice, a large two-handed sword, rested easily on her back.

Marstin winced at a sudden pinching pain, his eyes noticing Kyra giving him a bright smile. She then blushed at the raucous laughter from the two red-haired adventurers as they easily spotted what she was doing.

“Don’t worry so much, girlie,” Shane chuckled and patted Kyra on the head, unintentionally drawing attention to the large height difference between the two ladies. “He’s too skinny for my taste! Though I wouldn’t mind helping to teach him a thing or two about how to treat a woman.” She winked, causing Marstin and Kyra to blush innocently.

“Don’t tease them, sis,” Marcus rolled his eyes. “I doubt the brat has seen too many breasts yet, given how cold it is around here. I doubt he has any more attraction to your ugly face than he does to you, especially with such a lovely young thing working with him.”

Shane snorted, before giving Marstin a sidelong look. “By the way, who was that with the two walking metal boxes? The one with the bow.”

“That would be George,” Kyra said swiftly, an interested gleam in her eyes.

“George, huh,” Shane licked her lips. “Now that looks like a man who knows his way around a fight. Any idea what he likes to do for fun?”

“Um,” Marstin furrowed his brow as he tried to recall. “I believe he likes to try out new cooking recipes. He has a real talent for it.”

“Big bro, hold my sword!” Shane announced, throwing her massive weapon to her brother, who easily caught it with an amused look. The eager adventurer raced into the crowd after the Iron Yaks, her brother and sister-in-law following after waving goodbye to the duo.

The two younger adventurers exchanged a surprised look, and then shared a laugh. They entered the tavern area and grabbed a table to indulge in the breakfast Yolna was providing. Marstin did most of the eating, while Kyra watched on with a happy expression.

“It’s still so nice to see you having a proper appetite,” she said as he finished the last piece of toast. “To think, in a week it will have been a year since I dragged your bleeding body into the storage building’s cellar. You were so thankful just to receive some bread and cheese.” She let out a sigh.

“What?” Marstin asked as he sipped the last of his water. “Do you miss those times?”

“Not at all,” Kyra hmph’d at him. “I still don’t know why I saved an ungrateful thief like you, or why I kept helping you before then. But,” she reached out to clasp his hand. “I’m so very glad I did. So many things have changed for the better ever since I did that. Everyone has benefitted from your mere presence.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Marstin disagreed. “I’m not that special.”

“If you hadn’t been there with the Iron Yaks on your first adventure, Yarrow would have been killed by the trap,” Kyra began counting on her finger. “The Red Family would have suffered the combined attack of those criminals and the dungeon boss without your help and likely died. My family’s bakery would still be struggling to survive without your recommendations to the other adventurers. The orphans of Graniton wouldn’t have a place to call home and would still be used by adults with evil intent. Graniton itself would be under the control of Ghevin Drestice, myself included. And all those jobs you’ve taken from the guild that no one else wanted to do; you’ve made so many lives better.

“Everyone knows it. So, why don’t you?” she asked him.

Marstin rubbed his nose. “I guess, because it never feels like enough. That nothing I do will ever be enough; that’s what it always feels like to me.”

“Then,” Kyra gripped his hand. “I’ll just have to keep reminding you until you realize you’ve done more than enough. But don’t get arrogant and cocky on me,” she warned with her other hand raised threateningly. “Otherwise I won’t hold back in bringing you back to reality.”

“Okay,” Marstin smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hate to break this little couple moment,” the guild master coughed from the side, “But it’s time to get ready.”

The two had failed to notice the very large and not very subtle man approach their table, and they released each other with another blush. But as they followed the guild master over to the main lobby, they couldn’t help locking hands again.

“Alright you scoundrels and miscreants!” the guild master announced with his loud, booming voice as he stood on the staircase, walking in time with the stairs to keep himself from moving any higher. “It’s time! Round up and move out!”

The adventurers all cheered and gathered, raising their weapons and shields.

“Now!” the guild master continued. “As you all know, we’ve gathered here to help one of our own, and to help save our country from falling into the hands of the people behind Ghevin Drestice.” He paused to allow the crowd time to boo. “As such, we will be dividing into groups to protest in the noble district of Iora, with the push to reach the royal district and protest around the castle. As you can imagine, protesting during an important trial will likely be used to declare unlawful assembly so the guards can treat us like a riot. As such, remember: NO PROPERTY DAMAGE, NO KILLING OR MAIMING, AND MAKE SURE TO CREATE AS LOUD A RACKET AS YOU CAN!” The guild master’s voice shook the inn and vibrated in the ears of everyone. The cheers soon followed.

“Thanks to the assistance of the townspeople,” the guild master continued, “the spies that have been lurking around town, identified by Barklin, will be taken care of by the town guards, while everyone else will pretend like we’re still around in case something goes wrong and we need to retreat. We can claim we never left the city gates and that others were impersonating us.”

“Finally,” the guild master pulled at his collar a bit awkwardly. “Due to the secrecy of the situation, we won’t be acting with the backup of the main branch of the guild in the capital. We can’t be sure who is working honestly, who is being bribed, and who is being mind-controlled. So, if someone forces you into a fight, knock them out and tie them up. We can sort all that mess out later.”

“With that all said, we’ve moving out in five minutes! Get your helmets and masks ready!” As he said this, the guild master placed an eye mask over his face, failing to disguise his very recognizable body.

“I imagine you’ve been wondering,” Yolna began to explain as she guided Marstin and Kyra away from the crowd following the speech, “as neither of you have seen many adventurers wearing head coverings or protection before. The reason for this is that such protection often comes at the cost of the full power of one’s senses, and adventurers need to be able to notice dangers when in the field. However, in this case, we might be forced to face archers in the city, and covering our heads will make it harder to identify us and will give us plausible deniability.”

“Sneaky,” Marstin nodded in understanding. “It’s like infiltrating a masked ball and committing a crime. Will it work?”

“If it doesn’t, then I’ll hire everyone to join my guild,” Yolna chuckled as she placed her hand on the front door. “Now stand back, this will be a bit loud.”

Yolna’s eyes suddenly turned white, and she began chanting in a tongue Marstin didn’t recognize. Most spells were simple enough to cast by calling their name, he knew, which meant whatever she was doing that surpassed the normal limits of magic. The inn began to shake slightly as Yolna continued to chant, and the adventurers all got ready while separating themselves into pre-established groups.

No one spoke as Yolna finished her chant. In a somewhat anticlimactic ending, the half-elf merely finished speaking and removed her hand from the door, her eyes having returned to normal. Her hands waved suddenly, and the front door flew open, revealing a hazy and wavy moving image of an alleyway, a tall wall in the close distance.

“The way is clear,” she announced with a smile. “Go on through one group at a time and move to the closest gate upon arrival.”

The adventurers cheered and rushed through the portal one group at a time. For each large group of adventurers, the image on the portal shifted somewhere different before finally settling on a familiar tailor shop. Marstin looked around to find that the few who remained in the inn were Yolna, himself, the guild master, Kyra, the Iron Yaks, and the Red Family.

“I settled on only the strongest groups available to join us,” the guild master explained. “Well, the strongest groups still active and not needed to control the others; I was still one short though and had to ask Olen for help. Olivia and her trio would have been my preference over these guys.” He gestured toward the Red Family. Marcus awkwardly rubbed his beard while keeping a hand clamped firmly down on a very annoyed looking Shane. “No offense meant of course,” the guild master clarified. “And to make up for it, congrats on advancing to C ranked as individuals and becoming a B ranked group.

The red-headed siblings looked much better, though Linda appeared to be twitching uncomfortably as she looked over at Yolna.

“Let’s have a talk about your new room rates when you get back,” the innkeeper said with a smile that seemed very much like a viper looking at fresh prey.

Linda blanched visibly, but didn’t say anything as her companions celebrated their advancement in the rankings.

“Now, enough talk, let’s go!” the guild master ordered, leading the charge out of the inn.

“Marstin,” Yolna called out as she walked over. “A moment.” She reached into her bag and handed over the relic to the younger adventurer. “I was able to unlock the relic earlier today. When you wish to use it, you just need to press down on this circle here and place it on the ground. Finally,” she reached out and touched his forehead, “and, done. I’ve created a small spatial link between us so I can see and hear through your eyes temporarily. Once the moment is right, I will render the blood curse’s source visible and reveal the perpetrator. Now, good luck out there.”

“Thanks, Auntie,” Marstin expressed as he ran through the portal. He enjoyed the look of surprise, happiness, and annoyance on Yolna’s face as he vanished from the Stargazer Inn.

Chapter 50

Marstin reappeared on the main street of Iora in front of Sir Holler’s tailor shop. He quickly looked around for any signs of danger but found the street to be oddly deserted except for his companions.

“Good, we've all made it,” the guild master said. “The others should be starting their commotion now. Our goal is to make for the closest gate into the royal district and attempt to bypass it. With any luck, the commotion from our allies will have drawn enough guards away to allow us to get through easily.”

“You seem to have placed a lot of faith in our luck,” Oswald pointed out. “What happens if luck isn't in our favor?”

“Well, that's easy,” the guild master exclaimed, “then we just have to bash a few heads in and everything will still workout. With Linda here, we won't have to be as worried about killing any of them accidentally.” The guild master hefted his muscular arm for emphasis.

“That sounds about right for us,” Marcus agreed, patting his massive battleaxe against his shoulder. “And it's my experience that the simpler plans are a lot easier to accomplish than complicated plans. Fewer things can go wrong.”

Seemingly having reached an agreement, the group began running down the street toward the nearest gate.

Marstin couldn't help but ask, “Maybe I should have asked this earlier, but isn't anyone worried that the guards and the royal guards will be too strong for the adventurers or us to deal with? The royal guard who guided me, Sue, was a pretty strong B rank equivalent magic user, and I wouldn't want to fight her if I had any other choice.”

The guild master chuckled. “Sue was a royal guard Lieutenant, and one of their best members. It's easy to feel a bit of shock and awe after traveling with her, but you shouldn't underestimate adventurers. And, you shouldn't overestimate the combat strength of the city guards and royal guards who have never been exposed to real life and death battles. I imagine their combat skills have quite deteriorated after so many years of dealing with petty noble squabbles and the occasional thief.”

As if to agree with him, the city was suddenly lit up by the sounds of explosions all around the noble district. None of them sounded nearby, but the sound was enough to send nobles, servants, and everyone else running out of their homes to see what was happening. Seeing the city’s citizens reacting to the sounds of trouble by looking for it, instead of hiding like any smart Graniton citizen would do given the chance, lowered Marstin’s impression of the capital even further.

“The people seemed silly,” Kyra observed, “but the shops seemed to be really nice! I can't wait to come back and visit for some shopping after we finish this mess. I saw some really nice iron knuckles in the windows we just passed by.”

At least someone seemed to be enjoying themselves, it seemed.

The main road the group was traveling on soon took a turn toward the wall that separated the royal district from the nobles’ district. The guild master grumbled under his breath at the site of several guard squads protecting the gate.

“It appears luck isn't in our favor,” George observed. “Perhaps we should try another gate?”

Before the guild master could make a retort or confirmation, a large group of adventurers surged out from the alleys far ahead of the group to confront the guard squads, not the gate. Even from this far distance, it was quite obvious that the guards didn't understand where such a large group of armored and armed people had come from, nor why they were yelling and screaming about Marstin's innocence.

“Next gate it is,” the guild master agreed. “The closest gate now would be the east gate; follow me.”

He led the group into the alleys that branched off from the main streets. Strangely, the guild master seemed very familiar with the back roads of the capital, and the group failed to become lost as Marstin had during his previous escape. The younger adventurer decided to not voice this observation out loud, but his private suspicions grew.

Suddenly, a group of patrol guards burst out from a side alley, both groups taken aback by the sudden encounter.

“Knock them out!” the guild master ordered before slamming the two closest guards into the stone walls around them. The guard group may have had three guards for each adventurer, but their numbers weren’t enough to deal with the elite group from Grantion. Oswald’s sword unleashed a wind shockwave that rendered the guards helpless against Frain’s back of the neck attacks and George’s sleeper holds. Marcus and Shane knocked guards to the ground as Linda cast a sleep spell on each one as she followed her husband and sister-in-law. Even Kyra was showing off her abilities with Marstin by her side.

“Burning Fist!” she cried out as her gloved fists ignited with a flaming aura, slamming into a guard’s torso hard enough to smash him into the ground. Before Marstin could call for healing from Linda, Kyra’s other fist suddenly glowed with a softer flame.

“Healing Fire Fist!” she shouted as she punched once more, and to Marstin’s surprise, the guard’s pale face suddenly regained its original complexion. The older girl winked at Marstin. “I learned I have my mother’s talent, as well, though she was a herb healer. Now I can choose to burn or heal with my punches; no matter how much you’ve been hurt I’ll be able to help you now.”

Marstin was touched, if not a little bit worried inside. The guild master’s laughter didn’t help any as the group finished off the last of the guards and continued.

The sounds of commotion in the noble district seemed to be getting louder, the tall walls unwittingly helping, as the voices and cries of the protesting Graniton adventurers echoed off audibly enough for the group to understand.

“These degenerate sons and daughters of mine seem to have learned how to properly project from me,” the guild master laughed. “It makes one proud.” He turned his head enough to give Marstin a grin. “How’s it feel having a family that has your back?”

“A lot easier than having to do this alone,” Marstin yelled back. “I thought I was going to have to climb the wall at night by myself.”

“Not with those reed-like arms,” Shane laughed.

“Heads up, we’re about to come out in front of the east gate!” Oswald reported. “I can see it from here!”

The group burst out of the alley onto the main road leading to the gate, each member with their hands on their weapons in preparation for a fight.

They were quite surprised to find no one around the gate; neither a protesting adventurer, nor a city guard, nor a royal guard.

Only two familiar gate guards were waiting on either side of the gate, a group of female adventurers wrapping up their injured, led by a purple-haired, muscular lady adventurer.

“Look Phil, I think I see some guests,” Larry waved his hand toward the surprised group of adventurers. “They seem to be wanting to pass our gate.”

“You sure, Larry?” Phil asked back, looking uncharacteristically chatty. “They don’t seem like the sort that belongs in the royal district. Look, the big one isn’t even wearing a proper shirt or suit.”

“Don’t you remember there’s a masked ball tonight?” Larry answered with swaggering ease. “Despite their looks, those muscles and masked faces are a clear indication that they must be the hired help to set up for the ball.”

“You’ve never sounded more intelligent than you have today, Larry,” Phil nodded. “Alright, you lot are permitted to pass.”

“Be sure to not loiter in places you don’t belong for too long,” Larry lectured the group. “The guards have been a little tense all day. Something about groups of ‘miscreants and scoundrels’ giving them all headaches. The group we’re covering for even had to take a nap to get rid of their headaches.” When he finished speaking, the two returned to their lazy standing posture against the two sides of the gate, not bothering to look at the group of adventurers anymore.

“What are you all waiting for, an invitation?” the guild master grumbled at Marstin and the others, who were still not processing the situation. “Well, don’t, we just got one. Come on, let’s go help ‘clean’ the castle in preparation for the ball.” He walked by the two guards at a brisk pace, only sharing the slightest of nods with them while saying their names. “Larry, Phil.”

“Guild master,” the two guards nodded back.

The guild master nodded to the group of female adventurers. “Ladies of the Wood Chop adventuring group, you all okay? Barb?”

Barb, the purple-haired leader, stood and shook her head at the guild master. “Sorry, boss,” she apologized. “My girls took too hard a beating from the bastards stationed here. They weren’t right in the head, and we’d have been goners if Phil and. . . Larry hadn’t shown up.” She blushed while saying Larry’s name, her sudden embarrassed demeanor clashing with the blood running down her armor.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” the guild master nodded. “Just rest here, you’ve done enough. We’re going on ahead.” He walked briskly through the gate after bidding farewell. The others quickly followed him into the gate, though not before Marstin turned to look back at the two guards. They didn’t turn around, but Larry gave a tired wave and Phil saluted towards the town. The young adventurer bowed respectfully before leaving, though not before his enhanced eyesight caught what was hidden behind a door in the wall that had been left slightly ajar. A pile of bodies could be seen, all wearing a familiar earring, and all very much dead. Strangely, the expected metallic smell of blood could not be found in the air, despite the bodies all possessing a deathly pale complexion.

The royal district was as Marstin remembered it, a mostly flat cobblestone perimeter that surrounded the large central castle, intermixed with various places like the royal barracks, the royal garden, and so forth. The guild master was leading the way towards the castle’s main entrance.

“Seems we aren’t the only ones who made it in,” Frain pointed out, as she spotted several smaller groups of adventurers running around engaging the guards or protesting. “Has only the east gate been broken through?”

“Looks like the north gate, as well,” George observed using his archer’s eyes. “They’ve pressed the guards back in and are scattering. The south gate seems to be still closed. Guild master, are you aware which part of the castle holds the trial?”

“To my knowledge, they’re using the ballroom,” the guild master shouted back as he ran. “It’s the only room large enough to hold everyone, though the queen has set several smaller rooms aside to be used for other court affairs.”

“The ballroom is through the front door,” Marstin remembered. “There will surely be a high number of guards; I know a secret way through the kitchen area, how about we go through there?”

The guild master let out the loudest laugh Marstin had ever heard, and it boomed across the entire district with enough presence to rattle the young adventurer’s bones. “The time to be subtle has passed, my young adventurer!” he proclaimed. They were almost to the front door, and a group of royal guards were rushing at them with weapons drawn. “Like ripping off a wound wrap, we are here to free the country from the darkness that has dragged it down for so long! Stick out your chest with pride, for we have strength, justice, and truth on our side! Worried about facing down the enemy or making a mistake? That’s what it means to be a hero!”

As the guild master shouted this, he ran headfirst into the squad of royal guards, arms reared back under his shoulders with fists at the ready. They glowed with the pale light of aura. As swords, axes, and spears lunged at him, the half-devil guild master thrust out both fists in unison, and the world seemed to shatter.

“Meteor Fists!” the guild master roared out.

Visible cracks in the air branched out from where his fists stopped, followed by a shockwave that sent the squad of guards hurtling away towards the castle walls with lighting speed.

“I call upon the blessed cycle of our Lord Equinox to close this cycle of pain,” Linda chanted quickly. “May his blessings be upon those in need. Shield of Spring!” Her hands glowed with the colors of spring as a barrier appeared around each of the guards before they impacted the hard stone. The impact was sickening, as was the landing, but as they passed, Marstin noticed none of the guards had died nor were in danger of dying. “Hold back a little and warn me first, guild master!” Linda scolded the much larger man furiously. “That could have been dangerous!”

“Seems the royal guard requirements have become less strenuous compared to back then,” the guild master grunted in disappointment. “Used to be a squad could endure that easily. The queen must be getting desperate to use people of such pitiful strength.” At that, the group reached the main door, and the guild master easily pushed the solid stone door open without any help. “Right, Linda, I promise to give you at least a second’s warning before I punch someone again.”

The priestess scoffed and rolled her eyes in a manner most unlike her, but didn’t say anything else.

The small landing and stairs were clear of anyone blocking their way, and as the group reached the top, Marstin found the waiting room outside the ballroom/throne room empty of anyone. A quick sniff of the air confirmed that people had been here but had left a short while ago. His nose pointed toward the carved stone door leading into the place where he’d experienced his first ball, and likely his last, all things considered.

“Everyone ready?” the guild master turned around and asked. “Given our speed, it's unlikely the trial has been evacuated, so any remaining guards will be inside waiting for us, and these will be the cream of the crop, unlike those pushovers I casually flicked at earlier.”

“The Iron Yaks are ready,” Oswald reported.

“The Red Family is ready,” Marcus reported.

Kyra gripped Marstin’s hand tightly. “Rogue is ready,” she said.

The guild master nodded. “Follow me, then.” With unhurried speed, he turned around and slowly pushed the door open.

Marstin saw the archers but couldn’t cry out a warning fast enough to the guild master as the arrows were released. The guild master didn’t bother dodging, however, as the arrows, enchanted or not, bounced off his muscles and clothes without doing any damage. The doors finished opening, and Marstin could see the ballroom.

Unlike the last time he’d been here, there were no gossiping nobles or music. Now, the room was covered in many chairs that all faced the former dance floor, which now held a single central stand that was currently unoccupied. The former dance floor was surrounded by three long, covered tables arranged like the top part of a hexagram, with the middle table standing in front of the throne. Between the dance floor and the many rows of chairs stood a number of smaller tables, with two or three chairs each.

No one appeared to be seated properly, however, as the group of adventurers calmly walked down a central aisle toward the former dance floor. The nobles, merchants, mercenaries, and even other adventurer-looking types in the audience chairs were all turned around to face the group, wearing mixed expressions of fear, nervousness, caution, and amusement. A group of royal guards stood at the end of the aisle, many holding another nocked arrow, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

The smaller table held various official-looking figures Marstin could not place in his mind. They appeared serious, but that seemed to be a normal expression for them.

Finally, the large tables surrounding the stand held various important-looking individuals, some of whom Marstin recognized. Queen Nagri sat centrally on her throne, wearing a cold and hardened expression as usual. Sitting with her at the table were the Countess of the East Diana Silvertongue, the Duke of the North Duke Lidol, Princess Dimitria, Lord Albrec, an old man encased in ice Marstin didn’t recognize but must have been Duke Eilen, and a slovenly man who appeared to be asleep, Duke Font. The other tables held men and women Marstin could only assume to be the important foreign dignitaries and members of the church.

“This is a most improper entrance,” Queen Nagri’s chilly voice rang out as the group continued to approach. “Why have you invaded these grounds? What is your purpose here?” She paused. “And cease approaching, otherwise my guards will fire.” The nocked arrows drew back to support her words.

“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” the guild master laughed, not bothering to stop his approach. “Come now Nagri, has it been so long you’ve forgotten me?”

“You are the guild master of Graniton,” the queen noted, her face growing frostier at the lack of respect directed towards her. “We have only met a handful of times and are not well acquainted. You will address me with proper respect.”

The guild master snorted, finally stopping and folding his arms a distance of two grown men away from the archers. “I suppose I have changed a bit more than you’d expect. I even threw away my name and face to ensure I could be here for this moment.”

To the shock of everyone, the guild master’s devil tail let out a large pulse of sound, and the guild master shrank. The tall, muscular man distorted as he shrunk down: the muscles returning to a more normal appearance, his hair lengthening down to his shoulders, his facial hair vanishing, his tail receding until it vanished, and the growth of intricate dark blue tattoos across both arms. When the change was complete, the guild master had been replaced by a still tall, scholarly looking man with intricate tattoos that marked him as part of the Istutian Polar tribes. Marstin was confused at the change, and at the sudden pulse of magic that had come out the tail. He saw that the pulse’s contact with those from Istut caused their eyes to widen like they’d recalled something.

The Queen shot to her feet with a look of utmost shock on her face. “It’s you?” she asked, her voice visibly quavering. “How?”

The man kneeled respectfully to the queen. “The fifth hero, Gru of the Thunder Drake tribe greets the queen of Istut. I have brought the adventurer Marstin to deliver his testimony for the trial.” Without raising his head, he beckoned to Marstin to approach.

“Let him pass,” the queen ordered, sitting down with her expression having returned to normal. “I assume there is no issue in hearing the testimony of this adventurer?”

“Theatrics aside,” a smartly dressed man with a frown said. “The country of Bosrol recognizes the witness, but still has concerns towards the morality of the witness. The debate-”

“Oh huff it, you windbag,” a lady in elegant silver snorted, slamming her fist into the table as she glared at the man. “We’ve been wasting so much time debating over the qualities of a person we’d never seen already, and you want to question him now? Let us hear his words and debate them instead.”

“I agree,” a marvelously dressed man nodded. “As we say in Alevone, time is money, and we’ve spent a great deal of it without any progress already.”

The last two figures, a woman in a splendid sundress and coat and a lady in priestess garb, both nodded in agreement, likely the representatives from Masra and the Church respectively. The last figure, an older gentleman in what seemed to be a butler’s attire and coat, didn’t appear to care one way or the other, though he did examine Marstin with a curious gaze.

“Fine,” the man from Bosrol muttered. “I’ll withdraw my complaint. Young man, take the stand.”

Marstin nodded and walked past everyone to stand in front of the entire room. His heart was racing, a likely sign of nerves. He felt like sneezing, as well, having detected something foul in the air though he didn’t have the time to focus on it.

“Now what?” Marstin asked.

A few of the representatives chuckled, echoed by some of the audience.

“You are Marstin, an orphan and a former thief-turned-adventurer who is currently working for the Adventurer’s Guild in Graniton, is that correct?” Queen Nagri asked.

“I am that,” Marstin agreed. “Though orphan isn’t actually-”

“We will discuss your personal history later,” the queen interrupted. “Please deliver your testimony to the court regarding the events that took place in Graniton six months ago.”

“If you don’t mind, Your Majesty,” Marstin asked, feeling a little bolder now that he’d finally made it. ”May I begin my story with my history with the crystal used by Ghevin Drestice?”

The queen nodded her approval, and Marstin began his story of the events that occurred in the last year. He spoke of his last job as a thief ordered to steal the crystal from Ghevin’s manor and subsequent failure, as well as the results of the failure that led him to become an adventurer. He spoke of the Thieves’ Guild attempting to use his new station in life to help them, and his loyalty to the Adventurer’s Guild that wiped out the thieves.

“Why does the extermination of thieves matter to the court?” the man from Alevone asked pointedly.

“Because this branch of the Thieves’ Guild was targeting the crystal,” Marstin explained. “And they did this because they knew what it could do. They’d seen it themselves when they went rogue during the Thrawnby Incident.”

“Is this true?” The previously quiet old man sat up straight and glared. “They were the ones behind the grievous attack on my master’s caravan? Where are they now?”

“Dead, or captured,” Marstin shook his head. “I don’t know more.”

“A number of thieves are being held captive in the Graniton prison,” the guild master, Gru, spoke up in support from one of the audience seats, where the other adventurers had joined him. “I have brought copies of the interrogation reports if the court wishes to see them. This includes information from the mouth of their leader and vice-leader.”

“We can examine those later,” the queen nodded.

“I wish the prisoners to be transferred to Alevone to be properly prosecuted,” the old man spoke up sharply.

“Seconded,” the representative from Alevone nodded. “Though we can discuss this later. Please continue, young adventurer.”

Marstin resumed his testimony with the crystal being stored in the Adventurer’s Guild by the guild master, rather than risk transporting it to the capital and its destined recipient, Ghevin Drestice. He described the almost immediate effect Ghevin began having on the town after he arrived and retrieved the crystal, as well as the various odd events that coincided with the man’s arrival, such as the sudden passing of the mayor and the sudden rising of prices on the most basic goods. He finally finished by describing the unnatural actions of the Iron Yaks (during which Oswald, Frain, and George lowered their heads in shame), his failed attempt to break into the manor and subsequent capture, his escape, and his showdown with Ghevin Drestice that culminated in the public destruction of the crystal and the release of the spirit within.

“You were the last one to speak to Ghevin while he lived,” the female knight representative from Talin noted. “Yet, the interrogation record of his last words has failed to be recorded. Why is that?”

“They questioned me and I answered,” Marstin said honestly, “But no one could remember my answer. Not even the guild master as he was sitting in.”

“And what was that answer?” she leaned forward, ignoring the queen’s cautioning look.

“I asked him if he recognized my name,” Marstin revealed. “He died remembering it. So, to correct the record, my name is Marstin Hardgrove.”

A sudden shudder seemed to go through everyone from Istut as they winced, went glassy-eyed, or frowned at the name. The members of the other countries all frowned, but even they seemed distracted, to Marstin’s inner horror. The foul scent seemed to be getting stronger too.

“I see there is no significance to the name,” the queen said a moment later. “Let us move on.”

Marstin sighed and nodded. It wouldn’t be that easy.

“So, by your testimony, the man who died was wielding a kind of demonic crystal he used to control the minds of others, and which was deeply connected to the Thrawnby Incident,” the man from Bosrol summarized. “Your words match the other records and reports. Is there anything else?”

Marstin shook his head.

“Then we allow the cross-examination of your testimony to begin,” the queen declared.

“Cross, what?” Marstin blinked.

“Someone familiar with law is going to ask you specific questions about your testimony to see of there are any inconsistencies,” the old man explained with a kinder expression on his face than before, evidently seeing Marstin in a warmer light after learning of his role in avenging the Thrawnby Company.

Marstin nodded in understanding as one of the serious-looking officials approached, a woman in a butler’s outfit. She did not appear very friendly, but Marstin remembered seeing her with the queen during their secret meeting.

“Tell me,” she asked. “Despite your claimed disinvolvement with the Thieves’ Guild, did you not work with them to escape the city after the prince’s attempted assassination?”

Marstin considered the question as his eyes narrowed. He noticed a slight micro-expression of surprise on the queen’s face. “I encountered agents from the main branch during a mission for the country. After they tore my innards open, they informed me I’d be welcome to visit them in Iora if I ever went there. When I needed help, they provided it.”

“Yes or no,” the butler pressed.

“Yes, they helped me escape the city,” Marstin admitted. The room was filled with quiet murmuring.

“You were the only one not poisoned during the attempt,” the butler continued. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” Marstin said truthfully. “Perhaps I have a better stomach for it after so many years of drinking it?”

The butler scoffed and turned to look at the church’s representative.

“The boy has yet to lie,” she revealed. “Though some things are framed more for his sake. I would attribute it more to age than secrecy.”

“Then you do not admit to asking your royal guard to poison the prince?” the butler asked coldly.

“What? No!” Marstin cried out as the room filled with a clamor.

“Order!” the lady knight from Talin yelled. “Be silent!”

“The royal guard assigned to this boy recently awoke,” the butler continued. “She was quick to report her unintentional involvement to me, and I call her up to tell you what she told me.”

Marstin turned with the rest of the room as a side door opened to reveal a cold-looking Sue who was escorted up to a table by two other royal guards.

“I am Sue Shieldsmaiden,” she announced to the court. “A member of the noble Shieldsmaiden family and descendants of the Shieldsmaiden Mercenary group. I was assigned to escort this adventurer from Graniton, only to be set upon by winter bandits as if they knew our route. During the commotion, I was placed under the magical control of the boy and used as his puppet during his time in Iora! He wished to advance his own station by staging an attempted assassination on the prince, but I broke free enough to force him to use his demon magic to cure everyone after poisoning the cask instead of the mug.” She gave Marstin a cold look of disdain. “I was used against my will to act against my country and her interests.”

Marstin felt the room change. Eyes of suspicion were upon him now. The queen herself looked confused and lost under her icy façade, unsure if two of her trusted attendants were speaking the truth or not.

“She speaks the truth,” the church representative declared. “She believes it to be true.” The mutterings and shouts of outrage grew louder still, with some nobles decrying Marstin now and calling for his head.

“I did not-” he tried to protest, only to find himself unable to move as ice seemed to be surrounding him. The queen no longer looked confused, but instead angry and betrayed. Marstin could hear his companions also struggling as spells were cast on them to capture them. Out of the corner of his eye though, Marstin could see the guild master sitting peacefully and without any concern. He gave Marstin a confident smile.

‘Like ripping off a wound wrap, we are here to free the country from the darkness that has dragged it down for so long! Stick out your chest with pride, for we have strength, justice, and truth on our side! Worried about facing down the enemy or making a mistake? That’s what it means to be a hero!’

‘Are you going to take this lying down? To earn respect, you must TAKE IT!’

Marstin heard the guild master’s words echo in his head, followed by the voice of his inner demon. And so, he acted.

With an audible crackle, the ice surrounding Marstin’s body shattered and fell away as the hemomancy of his ‘red magic’ and protection from his ‘blue aura’ repelled the unspoken magic. His perception of time slowed as the young adventurer reacted.

The queen, taken aback by the failure of her spell, was already prepping a stronger one. The representatives around the table were also beginning to react, each suddenly radiating a power that made Marstin’s hairs stand up similarly as the queen’s did. At the first sign of magic from Marstin, he had no doubt he would be dead before anyone could do anything.

Hence, he was glad to not have stored the relic in his adventurer’s bag. The round magical device was drawn out of his pocket in slow motion, with the button pressed, and placed on the flat pedestal he stood in front of. Everyone locked eyes onto the device, no one recognizing it besides the guild master, and the queen. Her eyes widened in shock, and she ceased her spell casting.

Queen Nagri’s unexpected withdrawal of magic caused the other representatives to hesitate, allowing enough time for the relic to activate. Light exploded outwards, covering everything, and suddenly Marstin found himself seeing part of a battlefield, centered around a dying man.

The battle appeared to be over, with what remained of the participants lying all around with broken armor and blood-soaked dirt. The armor of the royal guard was easily recognizable, and was intermixed with the armor of several other forces he did not recognize.

The man at the center of the scene was breathing heavily and slowly, wearing what seemed to be the remains of an impressively complicated armor that had long since been shattered, revealing his head and face, and the massive holes and wounds littering his body. His eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing, but even then, the man’s impressive visage radiated authority and confidence.

“To think you would go this far,” the man coughed. “I knew you had ambition, and complaints, but never would I have thought... you’d go... this far.”

“You never were good at judging others,” a bitter voice came from out of sight. “I truly wish it wouldn’t have had to come to this. Your abilities could have revolutionized this country, saved it, even.”

“You mean return it to the old ways,” the man coughed. “Allowed our armies to once again shrug off the freezing cold without worry and allow us to continue raiding. A fool’s dream, to return to the glory of the past.”

“Perhaps,” the voice agreed. “But who knew you’d make so much progress in your political changes. We thought humoring you would buy us enough time to change your mind, but you moved too fast for us to reach that point. Our associates were unable to finish their work in time.”

“I knew it,” the man snorted, causing him to cough out more blood. “But I didn’t see it in time. When we eradicated that cult, you were among the reinforcements, weren’t you? We didn’t destroy everything then, damnations. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“I assure you, demonology is not so hard to learn,” the voice rejected smoothly. “A pity you won’t be able to help with our plans, but we’ve already prepared for this.”

“Demons? I promise you, old friend,” the man laughed sadly. “What you are messing with, even they would reject. You will find no allies on this path, I promise you. It isn’t too late to turn back, even with my death.”

“There is no going back,” the voice said curtly. “Not for me, and not for you. Farewell King Tormund, leader of Istut.”

The recording didn’t ever show the other person’s face, but Marstin noted the voice. He turned his attention to the dying king.

“It’s too late for me,” the king gasped out loud to no one. “But at least I was able to unlock part of the recording function. A pity, there was so much more for me to learn.” He was silent. “My dear Nagri, my precious children, I’m sorry to go before you. Please, be safe. I love you all.”

His eyes suddenly darted toward something out of the scene.

“You there, come over quickly,” the king called out with the last of his strength. “Please, take this and give it to the right people.” He held out the relic, which had been hidden under him, and the recording ended.

Marstin blinked, and found himself looking at the relic turning off, his view returned to the courtroom. All around him, people were blinking and coming back to the present as well, many of whom with tears in their eyes, including Queen Nagri. Marstin felt his heart throb painfully at the sight, though the pain in his chest did seem higher than it should have been.

Fighting through it, he said, “This relic was given to me by the Hero of Space Yolna Gyver, who has been hiding for many years to discover the king’s killer, and my tormentor.” He felt a pulse in his head, much like the one he’d felt when Yolna touched him before he left the inn. “I have lived cursed for so long, but now is the time for everyone to see!”

A silver light exploded out of Marstin, creating a moving dome of silver energy that quickly expanded to cover the entire room. The dome, while inciting shocked cries of fear, did nothing to those it touched. However, it rendered visible a gushing red aura around Marstin, which appeared to be filled with screaming faces that sank in and out of existence around him. As it moved, the dome also made visible a red line that ended with Marstin, forcing the connection to become visible until it reached its source.

Marstin looked up into the face of his enemy, his tormentor, and the source of all his pain.

Lord Albrec smiled back at him.

“Oh dear,” the large muscular and fat man said. “You have indeed made quite a mess of things. But as I said to Tormund, we have already planned for this.” Before anyone could react, the lord snapped his fingers, and 17 familiar crystals fell from the ceiling.

Chapter 51

Everyone reacted to the falling crystals, but their efforts were futile as the 17 crystals all suddenly exploded into a storm wave of fiendish energy that destroyed the silver dome and engulfed the room. The high intensity of mana rendered most of the people in the ballroom unconscious, and left the rest weakened.

“A setback once again, but nothing that can’t be fixed and thrown back,” Lord Albrec continued as he casually stood up and brushed himself off. “You’ve really proven yourself to be worthy of your lineage, young Marstin, quite impressive.”

Marstin was struggling to keep himself standing under the pressure of mana. His ‘blue aura’ no longer responded to his call, and his ‘red magic’ wasn’t working right either. His chest hurt still, and didn’t feel like it was getting any better. “Yo... knew my parents?”

“Honestly, no,” the lord shrugged as he approached Marstin. “Funny thing is, I didn’t have the faintest idea who they were, or even who you were, before you defeated Ghevin. Imagine my surprise to learn the person I’ve wasted all my mana on for the past eight years is you. As the caster of your curse, my only difference from everyone else was that I could recognize you. After learning of you, I refreshed myself with the various reports I had on your parents.”

The lord stood in front of Marstin and smiled down at him. “To be honest, young Marstin, you amaze me; more than the reports on your parents, more than Tormund, even, with your potential. Even the fact that you’re standing and talking to me in this space, when everyone else is struggling to stay awake, is a testament to your abilities. And as you know, I admire those with talent more than anything else.”

“So, what?” Marstin growled.

“I wish to make a deal with you,” Lord Albrec continued to smile confidently. “To this day, I feel great regret towards killing Tormund. The field test for the crystals on the Thrawnby caravan were only a year later; if he’d been just a little slower, less confident in his changes, I would have been able to draw him to my side using them.”

“Yeah, then why didn’t you try that with my parents instead of cursing them?” Marstin growled, his hands gripping the stand so tight they went pale. “Same with all the other nobles? Why kill so many families?”

“Mostly because they had no use,” Lord Albrec waved off. “Low-born new nobles without any desire for change, they were only obstacles. As for your parents, and uncle, it was a test. At the time, I knew that my blood curse needed the blood of the strongest member of the family in order to work most efficiently; otherwise, the strongest members would survive. I used your family to test my theory, using the blood of Istutian heroes, and I was successful. Had the curse played out like it was supposed to, then I would have moved on to my true target: Gru, the hero and strongest member of the tribes.” At this, the lord gave the guild master a withering glare of hatred. The guild master returned the look even as the mana forced him down. “The eradication of the tribes would have solved many problems, but somehow the hero learned of my plans and vanished alongside the Hero of Space, and my curse failed to finish.”

“You talk a lot,” Marstin glared, somehow getting used to the mana’s pressure on his body. “Why waste time talking to me?”

“Because I can afford to,” Lord Albrec said simply. “Because of you, I’m forced to expend 17 out of the remaining 18 crystals in my possession to turn everyone in this hall into my obedient pawns. I am unable to leave during this, and because of your back-up, it will take longer to infiltrate their minds than everyone else, to whom I have been slowly exposing my control magic ever since the trial began.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Do you know how difficult it is to acquire these crystals? Only priests of Helgrima can make them, and that’s before my associates can modify them for our purposes. And because of your direction actions, I’ve lost 19 out of the original 20.”

“But as I said,” the lord smiled wildly. “Setbacks, but not ones I can use. By taking hold of these representatives, I’ll be able to slowly infiltrate their countries and organizations. This is something I never imagined I’d be able to do so easily, and it's all thanks to you Marstin.”

“So,” he clasped his hands together. “I wish to offer you a chance to join me.”

Marstin gave the lord a look of complete disbelief.

“I like talents, and yours is the best I’ve ever seen,” Albrec explained. “With you on my side, I have no doubt Istut will return to its glory days, no, surpass them! Swear allegiance to me, and I’ll remove the curse from you. By its touch, you’ll never be a puppet to me like everyone else. I’ll raise you as my protégé, my successor, and I’ll grant you everything you can possibly desire. You can rule Graniton if you so chose while I train you, basking in the warmth and glory you so rightly deserve. No harm will come to your friends, or your lover, I promise you. Whether it's gold, women, food, or anything else, you can have it all and live a life free from all pain and regrets.”

“And,” the lord’s eyes twinkled suddenly. “When the work my associates are doing is completed, you will be granted the privilege of everlasting life. You will never die, and will be freed from your mortal existence. I’ll even grant this gift to your wife, or wives if you so choose, so they can be with you forever.”

“What do you think? What I offer you, I myself will receive as well. The curse of my bloodline will vanish, and my beloveds will be able to bear me the children they so dearly desire.” Within the lord’s smile, Marstin could the depth of pain and suffering the man had had to endure, cursed with the fate of his failing bloodline and his own curse within his body condemning him to death by obesity despite his actions.

Despite his righteous anger, Marstin could not help but hesitate. He knew pain all his life, and the offer of a painless existence appealed to him. As his heart continued to throb painfully, he couldn’t help but imagine a world like the one Lord Albrec described. It didn’t sound too bad, honestly. But there was something he had to ask first.

“How many people need to die to make that future a reality?” Marstin glared at the large man before him. “Just for a test, I lost my family and identity and lived a life of pain. How many others like me will you create? How many more will bleed in front of their friends who have forgotten them?”

Lord Albrec’s smile began to fade away.

“I am an adventurer,” Marstin declared. “and I am a thief. But I have never killed anyone who didn’t attack me first. And you, you’ve been trying to kill me for eight years! Screw you, take your offer and jump into the nine hells with it!”

“Pity,” Lord Albrec murmured. “Another setback, just like Tormund. But I won’t let it end like last time.” He reached into his clothes and pulled out a pulsing red orb. Marstin felt his body heat up at the sight of the orb, some energy connecting him to it. Suddenly, the young adventurer found he could no longer move, and he was levitated in the air until he was at the same height as Lord Albrec. The large lord reached into another pocket and pulled out a familiar glowing crystal.

“You’re worth a lot to me,” the lord smiled sinisterly at Marstin. “So much so I’m willing to use my last crystal just for you. Just one could allow me to control an entire crowd, so I hope you feel honored. I can’t have you dying on me, after all.”

Marstin struggled in vain as the man lifted the crystal towards his head. His chest was burning now, the throbbing in his heart out of control.

And he realized what he had to do. What he always had to do.

Marstin turned to lock eyes with Kyra, who was barely staying conscious on the ground. Her eyes widened in horror and fear as she read the emotions in Marstin’s eyes. He smiled at her, the gentlest smile he’d ever worn in his life.

And Marstin burned his blood with everything he had, breaking free for just a moment, just enough to try and sink his hidden dagger into his own chest.

“Noooo!” Lord Albrec screamed, and his massive, meaty hand slapped the dagger away with so much force Marstin was sent hurtling back into the floor. The young adventurer let out a groan as his chest slammed into a pillar, his body momentarily wrapping around the stone before he fell to the ground. He had failed, the dagger hadn’t reached his heart.

And yet, the world seemed to be getting farther and farther away. He couldn’t help but notice his chest didn’t hurt anymore. IN fact, nothing seemed to be hurting. For the first time in his life, he was free from pain.

And then, he was gone.

*   *   *

The last day was relatively uneventful for Progen, though that was far from the case for his dungeon, Marstin. From sneaking into a familiar town, to being greeted by what Stemmy said were familiar faces, and then transported through a spatial tear in the fabric of reality, the young former thief had been busy. Now he was supposedly heading towards some sort of court trial, which the helpful interneuron cell mentioned was the whole purpose of coming to the large city in the first place. Not that the dungeon crystal really cared about that; Progen was just glad that most of the danger seemed to have passed.

From what I have overheard, this trial is supposed to be about the incident in Graniton with the corrupted crystal. Along with that, he’s supposedly able to pinpoint the one or ones responsible for the deaths of his family.

“Death of his family—wait!” he suddenly shouted, now semi-excited. Progen tried to think back on what Stemmy had told him. “If I remember correctly, this same Blood Curse killed his family and only he survived; if he really can find out who created the Curse in the first place, then it’s possible that the death of that individual could eliminate our little problem here!” He couldn’t care less about Marstin’s actual motivations in finding those responsible for the deaths of his family – only that it would most likely result in something beneficial to Progen. Finally, something he’s doing will benefit me.

Before too long, Marstin entered another familiar room, though this time Stemmy described that it was set up as a place for this trial that had been mentioned. As soon as they stepped inside the room, however, the dungeon crystal could sense a change in the atmosphere almost immediately. A feeling of danger bombarded the exterior skin of the body, and Progen identified it even before Stemmy chimed in.

I’m detecting minute levels of foreign dungeon crystal mana again. It is permeating the very air, to the point where it is impossible to ascertain its origin.

“You may not be able to determine an origin, but do you think our host can? Are you able to tune his senses to be able to detect the foreign mana?” It was probably a longshot, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

I cannot. The concentration is too faint to accurately pinpoint an origin at this time, but with additional input, it might be possible.

“Thanks, Stemmy. Let me know if anything more definite makes itself known.” Progen didn’t like the feeling of foreign mana subtly pressing against his dungeon, because it felt entirely too much like what happened in the other town and the corrupted crystal there. However, without a definite source, it was too early to act to eliminate what was likely another corrupted crystal.

The minutes passed as Stemmy described Marstin speaking, repeating all that happened with the person who had been using the demon-filled crystal to control the minds of the people of the town of Graniton, along with some back and forth with other people involved in the trial. Progen couldn’t concentrate on what the interneuron cell was saying, however, because the sense of foreign dungeon mana continued to press upon his dungeon. Even worse than that, Progen could detect slight variations in the exterior mana, which told him that it wasn’t just a single crystal, but potentially more than a dozen. None of them seemed to be doing anything malicious, thankfully, as nothing happened.

I’m receiving reports of unknown activity in the heart.

It turned out that something had happened, though not necessarily outside of the body. The Blood Curse had finally woken up.

As the foreign mana increased in intensity, Progen pushed back just as strongly, not allowing it to permeate into Marstin’s skin. Unfortunately, he could also sense that the mana was interacting with the lingering magical energy within the circulatory system. The appearance of Skulls and Dragons increased dramatically as a result, which were easily countered by his own forces; how long that would last, though, was anyone’s guess, as circumstances started to escalate quickly after the Blood Curse had emerged from the shadows, revealing its presence in the heart. Contrary to what he expected – which was some sort of evil horror that would terrorize anyone who gazed upon it for long – the malevolent entity instead looked like…a dungeon crystal. A deep, crimson-colored, nearly transparent, facsimile of a dungeon crystal, granted, but that the basic crystallized shape that matched his own in size and form was obvious.

It emerged from its hiding place in the right ventricle, a pocket of invisible space that Progen couldn’t actually see, but he could now tell was there. He was sure that its presence would’ve been forgotten if the Cursed Crystal had retreated back into its hidey-hole, but unfortunately it did no such thing. Instead, before he could send all of his nearby forces in to attack, Progen started to feel his influence directly surrounding the Blood Curse start to fight with the new invader.

He recognized it immediately; the Cursed Crystal inside of the heart was utilizing the corrupted mana – which seemed to permeate the body by that point – to take back what Progen had worked so hard to control. All attempts by the struggling dungeon crystal to stop the spread of the potent foreign influence were met with failure, though he did slow it down a little. In fact, he had slowed its advance enough to watch as over 500 of his Hexapus creatures, which had quickly traveled to the heart, descended upon the Blood Curse with the intent of destroying it with their Blades.

All pressure against his influence stopped at that moment, and Progen was able to push until he gained back most of what he had lost. The immediate area around the Curse, which had begun to lose viewability and access, started to come back into focus as he felt a vast drop in the magical energy floating around the circulatory system. The energy didn’t disappear, however, as it was sucked into the Cursed Crystal; he could no longer see the Blood Curse, because it stubbornly held onto what little influence it had stolen from Progen, but he could still feel the movement of corrupted mana toward its location.

Suddenly, thousands of extracellular matrices formed into existence through the application of corrupted mana, moving like large nets with a mind of their own. A portion of the billions of red blood cells and platelets constantly moving through the beating heart were ensnared by the matrices, forming small Bloody Horned Skulls – the first time Progen had ever seen the process happen. The Skulls hovered in between the Hexapus creatures the dungeon crystal had sent and the Curse’s location, and Progen could see that the Skulls were immediately consuming any red blood cells around their constructed forms, growing exponentially in just the first few seconds they had before his forces arrived.

“We’ve got to destroy this Blood Curse now before it can be allowed to gain any more power!” he shouted determinedly, focusing on his incoming army of multi-celled organisms. With a thought, he ordered the rest of the roaming Hexapus and Anchor defenders to the heart, all but abandoning the ongoing hunt of other threats in the bloodstream. If I don’t stop it now, I don’t know if I can destroy it if it manages to rally its own forces.

His mass exodus of multi-celled defenders to the heart had an odd effect on the thousands of remaining monsters in the bloodstream. Instead of continuing what they were doing in consuming red blood cells or attacking random vessel walls, they turned as one toward Progen’s location in the appendix. A chill reverberated through his crystal at the sight, as he now had the attention of all of the dangerous constructs in the body. The next moment, they all started to tear at the nearby vessel walls, undeterred by where they were, focused only on heading towards Progen.

Progen, who was still inside of the appendix where he was supposedly safe from detection.

The presumption that you were safe was likely a ruse; the Blood Curse knew where you were all along, but you were tricked into believing you were safe until a time where it could come at you with a chance of winning.

That…sucked. Here he thought that he was smart in having been able to avoid an attack on his crystal, when he had been duped—again.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once. Progen’s forces that were already in the heart clashed with the newly formed Skulls in an effort to reach the Cursed Crystal, but they were being systematically destroyed, themselves. While the bloodborne constructs were smaller than he was used to hunting down in the bloodstream because of their recent emergence into existence, they certainly didn’t act like their brethren. The Bloody Horned Skulls located in the heart worked together, ruthlessly ripping apart Progen’s Hexapus creatures by deploying swarming tactics, changing their positioning and utilizing strategies like nothing he’d seen before.

“How?” was all he could ask as more than 500 of his multi-celled organisms were destroyed in a matter of seconds.

Physical proximity must increase the Blood Curse’s ability to fight and strategize with its monsters. The same would apply with any that you control; you would be able to manipulate them as if they were literally a part of your crystal.

He’d never noticed that before, but looking back at his experience in the body, he could confirm that whenever he was nearest his creations, they performed exponentially better when he had direct control of them. What that meant, sadly, was that his organisms would have difficulty getting close to the Cursed Crystal unless he was there to direct them personally – or if they simply overwhelmed what defenses there were. His army of nearly 30,000 organisms that were on the way would certainly do it, but there was a problem.

The other Skulls and Dragons in the bloodstream hadn’t been idle while his own Hexapus creatures were being slaughtered in the heart. They were already making headway into reaching him, and there were a few that were shockingly close to his location in the appendix. With his available mana, there was no way that he’d be able to produce enough defenders nearby to keep him safe; fleeing from his Crystal Room would only serve him up to the incoming threats even faster.

Your own safety has to be your priority, but you can split your forces. Half of them you can send to the heart, while the other half resumes their hunt for monsters in the blood.

Progen took Stemmy’s advice gratefully, and he did just that. Over 15,000 Hexapus creatures continued to the heart and the Blood Curse, while 13,000 Hexapus and 2,000 Anchor defenders resumed their pursuit of the monsters in the bloodstream. Thankfully, he didn’t have to locate them, because they were tearing up the body in order to get to him, and they were alerting Stemmy to their locations, which his assistant then quickly communicated to Progen. It was also quite clear, once he had taken action against them, that the Skulls and Dragons were definitely not as “smart” as the ones guarding the Cursed Crystal; they were easily cornered and fought back mechanically without any teamwork, though they actually did fight back. They weren’t consumed with the single-minded purpose that had driven them when he had been “located” before – which sent another chill through his mind.

“They’re a distraction! That’s why they attacked when they did, because the Curse didn’t want the entirety of my forces to attack it in the heart!” He had been tricked again, though it wasn’t as if he’d had any other choice; it was either take a chance that his own army would reach the heart in enough time to succeed in destroying the Blood Curse and hope that its destruction would stop the nearby threats from reaching him – or he would be destroyed before his own forces were even close to succeeding.

It was too late to change anything he had done, though, as those left behind to defend the bloodstream were already engaged in battles all throughout the circulatory system, and those who had been sent to the heart were arriving. With 15,000 Hexapi, it should have been an easy victory; his defenders outnumbered the Skulls by a little more than 3 to 1. At least, they had outnumbered the monsters by 3 to 1 a minute ago, but there was an even greater quantity of foreign mana blasting through the body, which was being gathered up by the Blood Curse.

Our host is approaching the source of the foreign dungeon crystal energy, though he is already starting to feel some of the effects from the monsters trying to reach your location. I have blocked the pain signals from reaching the brain, but some discomfort is still making itself known.

“Good. Hopefully Marstin will be able to discover whoever created this Curse and kill them, which should hopefully destroy this Blood Curse before it kills us.” Death wasn’t just a possibility, either; it was almost a certainty.

Suddenly, the outside of the body was encased in ice, seemingly from nowhere. Before Progen could really react to this change of events, Marstin foolishly decided to use his mana to break free of the frozen prison, which had an adverse effect on the bloodstream.

The stronger waves of foreign magical energy pressing against the body and Marstin’s use of mana had enabled the Cursed Crystal to produce even more Bloody Horned Skulls, bringing their number to nearly 20,000, along with 200 or so Blood Dragons. They popped into existence after their extracellular matrices were thrown out, and they roped vast quantities of red blood cells into their unnatural constructs, filling nearly 10% of the entire ventricle with their presence.

Progen’s Hexapus creations attacked immediately upon their arrival, moments after most of the Skulls had appeared. That meant that they weren’t all that large as of yet, since they hadn’t had a chance to consume many red blood cells – but they proved to be formidable, nonetheless. Even the newer, smaller Skulls could still take out one of his Hexapus creatures if they attacked in unison, bringing greater numbers to the fight than the 6-armed organisms could conquer; the monsters suffered horrific casualties in the process, of course, though that didn’t seem to matter all that much to the Curse.

That was mainly because it continued to create more—hundreds at a time.

Shredded matrices from both Skulls and Dragons quickly filled up the portion of the heart they were battling in, along with the bitten or gored remnants of thousands of Hexapus creatures. At first, Progen could tell that his formidable forces were making progress as they eliminated so many of the monsters, but reinforcements created from foreign magical energy quickly took their place. Moreover, given that those Skulls that remained alive were still consuming red blood cells that tried to stream by them -- and that they were growing stronger every second -- he knew he was going to lose.

Thinking quickly, he directed all 350 scouting groups of immune cells to the heart, to see if they could help turn the tide. He also managed to redirect another 2,000 Hexapus and 100 Anchor defenders from the defense of the bloodstream, sending them in to bolster the quickly falling numbers. With the destruction of so many monsters throughout the body, not just in the heart, Progen was also gaining mana at a remarkable rate, which he promptly reinvested in creating more multi-celled defenders to combat the rise in Skulls and Dragons, placing them straight in the ventricle near the battle so that they wouldn’t have far to journey.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t create any defenders right next to the Blood Curse so that they could destroy it immediately. Not only was Progen’s influence pushed back from the immediate area around the Cursed Crystal, but there was no room. He couldn’t physically place something that would directly intersect with one of the enemy. That went for traps, as well; ideally, a massive trap would be perfect to either kill or incapacitate all of the monsters, but he couldn’t place one inside either the army of Skulls or directly over his own defenders.

After nearly a minute of constant fighting, his immune cells arrived to lend aid to his struggling force, giving them a much-needed respite while they regrouped and led another charge into the midst of the bloodborne constructs. The additional reinforcements also helped, as well as the constant additions to his forces via the massive influx of mana, and he could see an improvement in how many bloodborne monsters were being destroyed. Progress didn’t last long, however; and what improvement he had made to the fighting started to stagnate.

Worse yet, the broken remains of those that were being destroyed were starting to add up in a bad way.

The cellular waste components from the battle in the heart are being swept away and are starting to cause blockages in the smaller blood vessels. I’m dispatching the body’s Cleaners to assist with the clean-up, but at the rate it’s accumulating, some of the larger arteries will begin to become clogged before the remains can be gathered up.

“It’s just getting worse and worse, isn’t it?” Progen was starting to panic again, as he saw all of his defenses start to crumble around him. All of the work that went into preparing his defensive sections was essentially useless against this new threat, and everything he had prepared in the heart, in case of a massive incursion, was all for naught. Nothing was working out the way he had planned, and his once-massive army of multi-celled organisms floating around the bloodstream was being devastated – albeit slowly – before his eyes. The rate of attrition against the Blood Curse’s forces was small in comparison with what he was replacing, but the balance was ever so slowly starting to shift in favor of the Cursed Crystal.

To make matters worse, a tiny trickle of magical energy poured out of the auraloid gland in the brain, before hitting the nearest Magical Amplifier. It sped through all of the different Amplifiers in the body before spreading out to various muscles, enhancing them for a time. Progen detachedly watched with much pride in how well Marstin was able to apply his mana without any help from the dungeon crystal, quite unlike his previous attempts. Of course, that pride disappeared when he saw even more Skulls pop up throughout the bloodstream, putting a major strain on the remaining defenders still hunting down those trying to reach Progen. He hadn’t been able to replace any of their recent losses, because every point of mana was redirected toward the battle in the heart.

As things started to appear as if they were going to go from bad to really, horribly bad, Progen knew there was only one thing he could do.

That would be highly inadvisable.

“Yeah, I know it’s pretty risky, but it might be our only chance,” he replied, trying hard not to let the desperation creep into his voice. “If you can hold down the fort here, I’m going on a little trip.”

I’m not sure you can classify the appendix as a fort, but I will try. Good luck.

“Thanks.” I’m going to need it.

Chapter 52

I guess that it is fitting that this showdown occurs in the place where I first met the Blood Curse, or at least where I was able to attach a voice to the entity causing all of my problems.

The journey to the heart was a nightmarish experience for Progen, which started as soon as he left the appendix. While he already had every Skull and Dragon in the body staring at his location – minus his minions in the heart, of course, because they were battling against Progen’s forces there – it was unnerving to see them become berserking lunatics when he finally emerged from his Crystal Room. Their perseverance in reaching him was only heightened at that point, and a lot of damage was done, not only to blood vessels, but also to the surrounding internal organs, as they tore through everything -- the only reason Marstin didn’t collapse in pain was because Stemmy was blocking almost all of the nerve signals from reaching the brain. The only positives were that blood-constructs were far less concerned with their well-being, and that they didn’t defend themselves properly against the hunting parties filled with his multi-celled defenders.

Instead of taking the long route through the small intestine, which would’ve taken quite a bit of time, Progen instead rocketed up the large intestine until he was only some tissue and a void away from the stomach. With quick application of his mana, he was able to cut through and repair the lining of the intestine while he slipped his crystal through the cell lining. He found himself in a bodily void outside of any organs, though nearly countless blood vessels and nerve strands connected many of the systems together nearby.

“This is the dangerous part—” Progen said to himself as he moved his crystal towards the stomach, its large surface massive in his viewpoint. He had just about reached it when four different arteries ruptured near him, 2 from in front where they supplied the stomach with much-needed oxygen to operate properly, and 2 from behind, connected to the large intestine he had just vacated. A dozen Bloody Horned Skulls appeared in the ruptures, as well as a single Blood Dragon in one of the vessels behind him, chased by his own defenders. They swam through the void toward him, the one in front on an intercept course; Progen made a quick judgement and climbed upwards, aiming for the top of the stomach rather than the side.

As he had hoped, it was difficult for the Skulls to change course so abruptly, so he was able to shoot ahead of them through the void. A fifth and sixth blood vessel broke open, just below him on the stomach, and another half-dozen Skulls appeared; but he was already past them and racing for the outer part of the upper stomach wall.

It was at this point where he semi-regretted not bringing a force of Hexapus defenders with him, but he needed to move quickly; attempting to move them through wall linings one at a time would’ve taken entirely too long. Plus, he didn’t really have any extra mana or time to build up such a guard force, so he was forced to go it alone.

He reached the top of the stomach and immediately cut through the wall with his mana, expanding the space between the cells so that they stretched apart just wide enough for him to fit through. Progen slammed his crystal inside of the opening with force, planning on slipping through—but he got stuck. “No! I didn’t make it wide enough! Darn these wide facets…” he grumbled, working his mana to expand the wall a little wider.

His delay was too late, though, as he felt something slam into him from behind, though fortunately it was relatively soft; despite the softness, it had some incredible force behind it. Looking back as he was propelled through, ripping the gap open even further, he saw that a Skull had slammed its forehead into his crystal. Thankfully, he had -- barely -- missed being impaled by a horn; he wasn’t sure if that would’ve destroyed him, but he wouldn’t doubt that some cracks might have appeared from such a strike. And he could afford no vulnerabilities at this precarious time.

What the collision did do was send him flying into the stomach, which had been his goal the entire time. He caught himself with his mana before he fell into the acid below, and he shot into the esophagus, intent on moving quickly. Behind him, he watched as the Skulls that had been chasing him fell into the stomach through the gap that they had widened, splashing into the acid below as they had no way to stop themselves. Needless to say, given that they were composed of red blood vessels and platelets, they were dissolved quite quickly.

As soon as they all fell through, Progen used his mana to seal up the wound, just as he reached the spot in the esophagus he had been aiming for. With another small application of mana, he cut through the lining and found himself in another void – though it wasn’t as large as the first. Despite that, by the time he had traveled across the short distance to the aorta, another Skull had managed to bust out of a nearby blood vessel, chasing him even as he slid through a gap in the aortic wall he was aiming for. He sealed it up after he got through and into the bloodstream, a second before the Skull arrived to get him. As he moved through the aorta and into the heart, he watched two Hexapus defenders who had been chasing the Skull catch up to it before it could tear through, slicing it apart within seconds.

He had to wait for the valve to open up leading to the left ventricle, but he’d already had experience with navigating inside the heart. Of course, the last time he was there he had entered it blindly, not knowing that he would end up fighting a monstrosity of virions made from the Insidious Virus; this time, however, he was pretty sure he knew what he was getting into. At least, he hoped so.

…your interference shall end in your destruction, and this body will finally succumb to my purpose….

The sound of the malevolent Blood Curse’s voice in his mind was more of a surprise than he expected, mainly because it was a lot more articulate than before. “I wonder if it is because it now has access to more—”

…my purpose will be complete!....

Progen was annoyed now. “Hey! No one except Stemmy can cut me off in mid-sentence, you piece of—”

…come meet your demise, oh rival of mine….

“Oh, it’s on, now.”

His crystal floated up to the rear elements of his Hexapus forces, their continued assault on the monsters constantly being created a slowly losing battle. Despite dividing his attention with maintaining the creation of his defenders while he traveled, it was obvious — now that he was up close —that they weren’t going to be able to maintain their attack for much longer without some help. “Well, it’s a good thing that help has arri—”

…destroy you!....

The Cursed Crystal was really beginning to tick him off. Not only had it hindered his takeover of the body, but now it was taunting him by interrupting his self-motivational speeches!

It was hard to see through the massive quantity of monsters – and multi-celled defenders on his side of the conflict – but he could just barely make out the quasi-crystal located in the midst of the maelstrom of activity. The stolen influence surrounding the area was still blocking his dungeon-based sight, but his physical viewpoint was only hindered by the sheer volume of cells between him and his enemy. Not that it did any good to see the Blood Curse, because it wasn’t as if he could create one of his defenders next to the Cursed Crystal; the lack of influence in that section and the tight press of enemy monsters made it impossible.

Now that he was there to take charge of the battle through proximity, that would all change. Mentally linking with the thousands of Hexapus creatures nearby, he concentrated on focusing their attack on a specific area that appeared a little thinner in terms of Skull density. While they were shifting around, Progen expended a bit of his inflowing mana on creating a large-yet-weak Suspension Trap, situated around the rear edges of his army; it was just powerful enough to greatly slow anything trying to attack from behind in a flanking maneuver, where he would be able to react in time to stop it from succeeding.

As he had thought, as soon as he pulled those Hexapus defenders from the opposite side to join in the fight in his focused area, the Skulls and Dragons were no longer hindered at that point and started to flow outwards. They poured out of the hole in Progen’s defenses, attempting to swarm around the dungeon crystal’s concentrated forces; as soon as they hit his trap, they slowed down to approximately 25% of their former speed, crawling along as they tried to reach his defenders from behind. If I’m not successful in the next 45 seconds, they’ll hit my forces hard. That was as long as the Suspension trap would last before it was canceled, waiting for a recharge.

But his concentrated attack was having a massive effect on the Skulls and Dragons assembled in front of his position. Instead of flailing their Blade-tipped tentacles in all directions, slicing anything that came close to them (including their fellow Hexapi), Progen’s physical influence and direction had the forward defenders extend their appendages straight out ahead of them, as rigid as could be. Then, mimicking a tool he’d seen some miners use back when he was but an infantile crystal, he had them assembled in a cone formation with tiers made of Blades, creating a massive and sharp drill head. When they were assembled how he wanted them, he started them on a coordinated rotation, rotating the entire head of the improvised “tool” into the bloodborne constructs blocking him from his goal.

His Hexapus drill tore into the monsters like an amazingly destructive force, ripping anything in its path into shreds. A few Dragons managed to slice their claws into some of the exposed Newt tentacles, but Progen quickly repaired any damage that occurred so that there weren’t any gaps. Other than that, his strategy was working perfectly, as he floated his crystal along with his army, getting closer to the Curse by the second. He estimated that it would only take another 15 seconds or so to reach the center of the Blood Curse’s defenses, where his Hexapus creatures would be able to shatter the poor excuse for a crystal.

…NO! I MUST DESTROY YOU!....

Progen ignored the raving of the soon-to-be-shattered Cursed Crystal, as he watched the monsters around the army surrounding him go berserk. Instead of trying to attack his defenders directly, they started to push at the 10-deep line of Hexapus and Anchor organisms surrounding his crystal like a shield. No longer intent on trying to rip apart his defenders, the Skulls in particular pushed on each other with great speed, shoving their co-attackers into the waiting Bladed tentacles. The result was a massacre on the part of the monsters, but the weight of their sheer numbers started to show; the first line of his defensive sphere collapsed as they were surrounded by shredded Skull remnants and other bloodborne constructs still pushing against them, trapped in the crush of enemies.

“Nice try, but you won’t have enough time to succeed,” he taunted the Curse, seeing that his drill was almost through. “My Bladed Hexapus drill will shatter you in the next few—”

Progen didn’t get a chance to finish his victory taunt, though, because something very unexpected happened. He had been watching the Cursed Crystal get closer and closer to him as his force drilled through the press of Skulls and Dragons, so when he saw it shatter into a hundred thousand little pieces a few seconds before he even got near it, he was surprised. That word didn’t really convey his reaction, though, because he was more shocked, speechless, and utterly flummoxed.

“What the—? I didn’t even touch it!”

Approximately 2 seconds after the Cursed Crystal was shattered, a bright red dot of light could be seen where it had been. That only lasted for a brief moment before it rapidly grew in size, becoming nearly as large as a Bloody Horned Skull, before it disappeared in a gigantic flash of energy, shooting through the entire body and blinding his viewpoint of everything momentarily.

When he was able to see anything again, Progen was hit with another shock: around the circulatory system, all of the magical energy that had previously infused it since Marstin had swallowed the powdered monster core was gone, and the Skulls and Dragons that were tearing up the blood vessels were starting to fall apart. The energy that had maintained their forms had been taken away, and the matrices holding the red blood cells together melted in place, freeing up the millions of cells and platelets to float in the plasma as if nothing had happened.

What was even more important was that the overwhelming force inside of the heart started to fall apart as well. Bloody Horned Skulls that were in the act of pushing through his lines of Hexapi literally blew apart from the pressure, while those monsters in the back broke up as their forms failed to keep together from a lack of an extracellular matrix. Condensed platelets spread apart, looking none the worse for what they had been subjected to, only to be swept away as the heart pumped them back through the body.

“Stemmy? What just happened? Did I just win?” Progen was highly confused. He felt a bit cheated that he hadn’t been able to strike the final blow to eliminate the Blood Curse; then again, as long as it was gone, he guessed he shouldn’t complain too much.

I do not know. That should not have—

The communication the dungeon crystal was receiving from his assistant through the plasma in the heart was abruptly cut off. “Stemmy? Stemmy?!” Frantic, he used his dungeon sight to look down in the appendix, fearing the worst, but the cluster of interneuron cells was still there, unchanged. Relief surged through him when he saw that Stemmy appeared just fine, but he couldn’t help but wonder why the communication had been interrupted and why it still didn’t seem to work.

As he refocused on the heart, he was shocked for the third time. While he could see everything within his proximity, there nonetheless seemed to be an area of influence that didn’t belong to him. He tried to push on it with his mana, infusing his mana on the spot—but it didn’t budge. If anything, it started to increase in size.

Progen slammed his mana up against the expanding spot of influence, stopping it from growing even further; he succeeded in halting its growth, but he strained to keep his barrier in place. It was only a few seconds later when his resistance failed and the influence burst outward, doubling in size in less than a second. He backed himself away – as well as the 8,000-plus remaining defenders available to him – from the rapidly spreading influence, retreating to the other side of the ventricle as he tried to figure out what to do.

Stopping the spread seemed impossible, but what was causing it? The Cursed Crystal had been shattered, so that should have been the end of it…right? Then again, why did it shatter in the first place? Was the crystalline form the Curse had adopted been some sort of illusion? He couldn’t be sure, but what he did know was that the danger didn’t seem to be over quite yet.

He couldn’t quite see inside of the spreading influence anymore, but what he could see from his position worried him. The red blood vessels, so plentiful in the plasma that made up the blood in the heart, were starting to change direction as the heart continued to beat. It didn’t flow in reverse, though; instead, a significant portion of it seemed to be diverted toward the unseen influence.

The changing currents in the heart eventually gave him a glimpse further inside of the heart, into which a lot of the blood seemed to be sucked, and the sight that greeted him sent his mind into a panic.

“I guess I know where all of the blood is going.”

Chapter 53

It was a monstrosity unlike anything Progen had seen before. The Parasyte had been huge, though a lot of that could be attributed to its length rather than its diameter – though that, granted, was quite large. But the amalgamation of red blood cells that were being siphoned off from the bloodstream was quickly reaching those proportions, a mass of everything that he’d seen so far in his journey to control the entire body. His dungeon was facing its biggest threat to date – and he had no idea what to do about it.

There was no extracellular matrix holding the mass of cells together – just sheer corrupted energy. Encountering it in its pure form, Progen was finally able to recognize it as the same foreign mana that was pressing against the outside of the body; if it wasn’t obvious before that the Blood Curse had been borne from the efforts of a corrupted dungeon crystal before, it practically screamed it now.

The amorphous shape was horrifying, an undulating blob with thousands of massive flagella composed of strings of platelets. In the center of the form – nearly bisecting the entire thing – was a mouth that was reminiscent of the Parasyte, with teeth of even more compressed platelets, each as large as one of Progen’s Hexapus creatures. As for the majority of its body – if it could even be called that – the red blood cells were altered in some way, making them appear spiked instead of round, and they seemed to multiply like cancer cells even as he watched. Lastly, around the entire monster were roughly shaped virions made from broken platelets, spinning around at high speed like some sort of tornado shield.

Progen’s crystal involuntarily backed up against the cells of the heart’s wall at the sight, as his mind barely refused to acknowledge what he was seeing. “I’m so screwed; there’s no way I can defeat that…”

Progen? Can you hear me?

“Stemmy! What? How?”

Your direct contact with a nerve behind you has allowed me to communicate with you. I cannot see what it is that you are fighting, however, as the Blood Curse’s influence has spread.

“Yes, thank you for telling me that; I had no idea,” he said in the most sarcastic tone he could emphasize. He was thankful for the contact with Stemmy, because it reduced the panic that was beginning to take hold of his mind.

You’re welcome. There is something else you should know, however.

“What – that we’re all dead? Yeah, I kind of noticed.”

I have no knowledge of that outcome. It is actually about the foreign mana that is surrounding our host.

“I can still feel it, if that is what you are going to tell me,” Progen said impatiently as he tried to formulate a plan. Any plan was better than sitting there, watching his doom approach.

Not at all. I was going to comment on the fact that it has stopped infusing all of the circulatory system, but if you don’t want to hear it, then I retract my help.

Apparently Stemmy couldn’t detect sarcasm in his voice, but his assistant sure could identify impatience and exasperation. “Thanks, but I already noticed that all of the blood vessels—”

No, I said that it has stopped infusing all of the circulatory system. In fact, the only foreign mana I can detect is inside of the heart right now, and even that is fading.

Now that was an interruption he didn’t mind, especially since it came from Stemmy. It didn’t take him long to follow up with what his assistant had told him; there were no massive surges of foreign mana from external sources like there had been not even a minute ago, and the amount he could detect from the Bloodborne Abomination was dropping rapidly. It took him a few more seconds to realize what that meant.

“You’re a lifesaver, Stemmy – literally,” he thanked his assistant, before ordering his army of Hexapus and Anchor defenders forward. He had already instinctively called in his other multi-celled defenders from all across the body, as they no longer had any monsters to hunt down and eradicate. When they all arrived in the next 30 seconds, he would have nearly 16,000 defenders on his side – which he desperately hoped was enough.

The leading edge of his army flung themselves into the fray without hesitation. Progen was still controlling them for the most part, but it was difficult to watch everything at once. He was able to instruct the first few Hexapi to avoid the flailing flagella that suddenly stretched out in their direction, but hundreds behind the leading edge weren’t so lucky. The Abomination’s massive appendages crashed into his army, each as big around as the defenders themselves; the impact was strong enough to obliterate the majority of the Hexapus creatures that were hit, most of the time only leaving the Blades intact because they were made from stronger material, while thousands more made it through the initial flagella assault – only to run into the tornado of platelet virions creating the next obstacle. Tens of thousands of giant virions slammed into those defenders that managed to avoid the flagella, piercing through them at high speed. The first few hundred were completely shredded, leaving their remains to float away without even putting up a fight. Progen was a little worried that the virions would act like a virus and start to multiply after piercing through his defenders’ individual cells, but they were either too large to act as an actual virus or were incapable of making another cell replicate them.

Multiple holes in the virion tornado opened up as the virions were destroyed along with the defenders they hit, which allowed some of his Hexapus creatures through – though with some missing some tentacles in the process. Almost all of the Anchors that were still with the group – over 100 or so – made it through with minor damage, as their outer cell walls were made of a bit more sturdy material. Not that he knew what they would do if they made it to the Abomination, but they were at least something.

More and more of his army made it through the flagella and virions as the tornado thinned out, until there were about 1,000 defenders past the first 2 gauntlets – some uninjured, most with some sort of damage. Even more of his reinforcements were arriving and pushing through, but if he was lucky, they wouldn’t be needed.

“Attack!” he instructed his minions, although it was far from necessary. He could still see them, and his proximity transferred his commands without the need to speak.

…resistance useless…destroy this place…resistance…futile….can’t stop...

The Blood Curse was back to speaking nonsense again, as all intellect had seemingly fled along with the foreign mana. As usual, Progen ignored it.

His army slammed into the side of the Abomination, the Bladed tentacles of his Hexapus creatures leading the charge. Progen was expecting them to go straight through the massed red blood cells, but the changes in them weren’t just aesthetic; as soon as the Blades rammed into the cells, they sank partially inside their spiky forms and stuck fast, the strange cells enveloping the keratin-enhanced weapons moments later. The dungeon crystal could tell that the defenders attempted to pull their tentacle ends out from the body of the Abomination, but they were trapped inside and couldn’t be moved.

The Anchors that rammed into the same altered red blood cells managed to hit hard enough to destroy a dozen or so upon impact, but they too were caught and enveloped. Within seconds, his vanguard of defenders had been entirely neutralized.

“This is impossible! How am I supposed to defeat this thing?”

After what Stemmy told him, he had been sure that all it would take was getting his army up close and whittling away the cells that formed the Abomination. Without any external sources of energy powering it anymore, there was no way for it to regenerate where damage was done to it. This was obviously a last-ditch effort by the Blood Curse to succeed in its purpose – and it was a good effort, too. He had already seen a decline in how rapidly it was growing as the magical energy faded away, and at this point it had all but stopped.

He called back the rest of his forces before they could get shredded by virions and beaten to death by flagella, now at a loss of what to do. Without anything else attacking it, the Abomination began to move very slowly, its massive size gliding along the plasma inside of the heart. Progen immediately saw its destination: the same valve that he had passed through in order to get to the ventricle chamber. “If it gets to the valve, its bulk is large enough to completely block it!”

As he looked for a way to stop it that he was hoping would just pop out at him, he noticed something strange. The nearby bloodstream flow, which had originally been used to increase the Abomination’s bulk, was still being diverted towards the monstrosity. Why is it still doing that? He couldn’t see any particular increase in its size, especially considering how much blood was pouring into it—

“Is that it? Is that why it is here in the heart, of all places?”

Progen realized that with nothing now powering the Abomination, it should’ve fallen apart – yet it didn’t. He’d seen the same thing happen to the monsters in the bloodstream when the energy was taken away, and despite later monsters being able to leave that power under the influence of the Blood Curse, it still should’ve happened to this monstrosity. So, why didn’t it? Because it was a Blood Curse, that’s why – it was using the very blood it was surrounded by to power it.

The only place an Abomination like that could be supplied with enough of what it needed was in the heart, which was why it was there in the first place. Whether or not this form that it had adopted was its plan all along was irrelevant; all that mattered was that it was there now, and it was consuming vast quantities of blood in order to keep itself going. So, either it was going to kill Marstin by consuming every drop of blood, or it would block his heart from pumping blood throughout the body. It was time to take those options away from the Curse.

He backed his crystal up against the wall of the heart again. “Stemmy, I need you to do something for me and don’t argue with me. I have a plan.”

What do you need me to—

“Block all nervous system signals to the heart.”

You do know that will cause it to stop beating?

“Yes, and I told you not to argue. Do it.”

Without any other protest, Stemmy did exactly what Progen wanted. He blocked the signals from the brain which kept the heart beating regularly. There were some brief stutters in the *thump* *thump* of the heart, before it fluttered once and stopped entirely.

…NOOOOOOOO…MURDER…DEATH…KILL….End...AT LAST!

Apparently he ticked the Blood Curse off. In more ways than one.

The flow of blood through the heart stopped, as the heart was the organ that kept it flowing through the body, as well as bringing circulated blood back through the heart. Without the beating, no new blood was coming in, which meant none was being diverted toward the Abomination. A shudder ran through the monstrosity, and a quarter of its flagella fell limp, its individual red blood cells falling apart – only to be sucked up by the Abomination for fuel. When it was done with that, it didn’t resume its journey toward the valve; instead, it started for Progen and his devastated army with murder in its every movement.

Multiple systems in the body are in danger of shutting down. You have approximately 18 minutes before irreparable brain damage is done to the host. This hemostasis will not provide enough oxygen to critical systems unless the heartbeat is reinstated.

“Not good.” Progen was aware that the body could survive for a short time without the heart beating, but he was hoping for longer. With everything at his disposal, he was confident they could reinstate the heartbeat before death overtook Marstin completely; the dungeon crystal’s only worry was surviving long enough to see that happen. “Time to go!”

He went to escape out a different valve, but a mass of flagella shot out from the approaching Abomination, blocking his and his army’s escape. Progen tried to immediately slip past in the other direction, but he was prevented by another appearance by dozens of flagella. Even as he was looking for another escape route, he watched the tornado of virions around the monstrosity slowly break up before being absorbed for additional fuel, along with every red blood cell and platelet within range of the Abomination.

“I just need to survive a little longer!” He looked behind his crystal at the wall and considered fleeing that way; while he was full of mana at the moment and it wouldn’t take much to slip through it into the bodily void, he didn’t have nearly enough to repair what came next. With his escape, the Abomination was sure to tear the heart apart to get to him, doing so much damage that he couldn’t hope to fix it, especially if it was right there preventing the manipulation of cells. Restarting the heart and repairing anything in the body that had been damaged because of the lack of circulation was going to take a hefty amount of mana, and with a heart repair he wouldn’t have enough. This time, he couldn’t pull more mana from the life force in the body, either, because it was likely to kill Marstin even faster.

He was trapped – but he wasn’t dead, yet.

“Alright, if that’s the way you want to play it, let’s do this.”

The Abomination seemed impervious to damage, so his Hexapus army would be next to useless. There was no way he would be able to destroy it from the outside, because it seemed specially designed to resist any type of attack he could throw at it; he doubted any of his immune cells would be any more effective than his other defenders, either. So, that left only three other options – delay, delay, and delay.

Frantically, he concentrated on all of the traps he had set up around the body and thought about absorbing the mana that had been invested in them. There was a temporary resistance as they didn’t want to be reabsorbed, but he pushed through and slammed his will into them, and a massive influx of mana started to funnel into him, which was quickly diverted toward a trap and what he was designing on the fly. After rapidly placing the trap in front of the Abomination, he concentrated on the Bladed Hexapus option in his Immune Cells and imagined it combining with another Lymphoid Progenitor; this was something that he’d never tried before and didn’t even know if it would work, but he had no other option at this point.

He combined the two options in his mind, imagining the differences he wanted to enact; at the same time, he pumped all of the mana he could funnel into it, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Progen turned to the remaining Hexapus army that he had protecting him, and he yanked all of the mana out of them, which caused them to fall apart. Luckily, that seemed to just barely do the trick as his creation sucked in all of that mana and materialized in front of him, just out of reach of the Abomination that was still approaching.

Instead of a six-tentacled Hexapus, his new creation was a two-armed orb of almost pure keratin, thick enough to stop just about anything from penetrating. It was relatively small compared to the Abomination, but where it lacked in size it made up with strength. The extracellular matrix was reinforced with keratin as well, making the entire organism nearly frozen in one position without much flexibility, but that was by design. The tentacles of the prior Hexapus were transformed into rigid appendages that extended from the sides of the orb like arms, designed to deliver a blow that could obliterate a Bloody Horned Skull with one punch. It’s a shame that I didn’t think of this before.

Along the backside was a small entry port, into which he immediately flew his crystal, which sealed itself up as soon as he entered. There was nothing in his new creation that controlled the entire organism; he had replaced the Commander aspect of it for more Blades, which was essentially what the entire make-up of the creature was. He would be the one in command, after all.

Just as he settled inside, the first of the flagella from the Abomination slammed down on his new creation, sending him flying back into the wall behind him. When he rebounded off of the cells, squishing quite a few in the process, Progen inwardly smiled as he saw that there were only the slightest of cracks in one of the cells on his central orb protecting his crystal.

“You’ll have to do better than that. My turn.”

He shot forward, his momentum great enough to shrug off another flagellum hit as he rotated slightly and slammed one of his keratin-fists into the side of the monstrosity, leaving an indentation and crushed cells behind. He removed his fist before it could get stuck, its size too large for it to be enveloped, and then rotated his whole creation again, slamming his other fist into another section of the Abomination. It wasn’t a lot of damage in the scheme of things, especially since the bloodborne nightmare was at least 10 times his Basher’s size, but it seemed to do some damage.

A trio of flagella hit him just as he was about to punch again, sending him spinning. As soon as he recovered, he raced back into the fray, getting off one more bash before he was knocked away again. Another attempt at getting up close was prevented when a flagellum wrapped itself around one of his arms, trapping him in place. Progen tried to wriggle his creation free, but another appendage wrapped around his other arm, before the two tried to pull him apart.

Thankfully, his extra thought about reinforcing the matrix with keratin strands managed to withstand the pulling even as additional flagella joined in on the fun. He was trapped, unable to break himself free, but that was perfectly fine with him; even as the Abomination attempted to rip him apart, he watched as another few dozen flagella and the lower 10% of the monstrosity fell apart, only to be sucked up for fuel.

“Ha ha, you lose,” he couldn’t help but taunt the Abomination.

…eat…you…lose…

“Uh, oh.”

Progen’s Basher was maneuvered toward the giant, teeth-filled mouth and he began to worry. He wasn’t sure how well the keratin shell of his creation would hold up against such abuse; unfortunately, he found out quite quickly that the answer was, “not very well”.

As the first crunch of massive, condensed-platelet teeth on his Basher, he heard cracks reverberate through the entire organism. Looking at it, he could see that the outer layers of cells were broken, with hundreds of them falling apart from the bite. The teeth disappeared and Progen struggled to get his creation free, but he was still held firmly in place by 4 flagella around its arms. Another few dozen flagella disappeared along with another 10% or so of the bottom of the Abomination, but it wasn’t fast enough. Come on, come on….

Another crunch of teeth against his Basher’s protective shell caused even more damage, followed by two more that broke through most of the layer protecting Progen from the outside. Another two or three bites and I’m done for! Hurry up!

The next bite slammed down so hard that Progen became disoriented from the impact; looking around, he realized that the tip of one of the condensed-platelet teeth came within less than a Newt’s distance from hitting his crystal. As the teeth retracted again, Progen looked around for an escape option, but the cells that could be moved aside to allow him to leave had been so damaged that they were impossible to shift out of the way.

He looked up as the teeth descended one last time, and shut off his vision a moment before it would make impact, not wanting to witness his destruction. An enormous crash against the Basher sent him flying out of his creation, somehow still alive, and when he righted his viewpoint he looked at the Abomination.

The teeth had come down again, but most of them weren’t connected to the mouth anymore. In fact, they were falling out, as whatever had kept them in place was now gone; all that had managed to happen to the Basher was a giant impact that busted the creation wide open like a cracked nut, sending him flying instead of piercing him with a sharp tooth. When Progen looked closer, he could see the reason for the disconnected teeth and he sighed in relief.

“How do you like a taste of your own medicine, huh? Yeah, it sucks when you’re attacked from the inside, doesn’t it? Serves you right!”

…how?...NOOOO…kill…death….end it...

Millions of tiny parasitic viruses rampaged through the Abomination, destroying cell after cell after cell in quick succession. After it passed through the small Parasitic Infestation trap he had managed to place in its path, the small parasites took time to start replicating, but once they did they had shot through the insides of the monstrosity like wildfire. All Progen had to do was delay it long enough for it to work; he was just glad that it had reached the deadly mouth portion of the Abomination before he was destroyed.

The process of infection sped up considerably from thereon out, consuming the rest of the monstrosity within another minute or so; at the same time, Progen made sure to get out of range of the flailing, dying flagella so that he wouldn’t get hit in its death throes. As the last of the Abomination’s cells exploded, he heard a primal yell of pain coming from the Curse in his mind, followed by silence. Complete silence.

“The heart! Stemmy, if you can hear me, start the heart back up!”

I can hear you again. Sending the appropriate signals now….

Progen waited for the heart to start beating, but nothing happened.

There is damage in the vagus nerve due to lack of oxygen. In addition, many of the nerves leading to the heart from the brain have atrophied, requiring healing before they can properly work again.

“Uh, Stemmy – I don’t have any mana!” Progen shouted, despairing. “I used it all on making my Basher and laying that trap, and I didn’t get anything from destroying the Blood Curse because of that trap. There’s nothing to consume to get mana back, and I can sense that Marstin’s life force is at a tipping point – so there’s nothing to pull from.”

There was silence for a moment before his assistant answered. Well, there does happen to be a source of mana still in the body, you know.

“What? Where?” A second of thought later, he answered his question himself. “You really think I can access that?”

It’s worth a try.

Without any obstacles in the way, now that the blood was free of monsters, Progen sped up the bloodstream until he reached the brain. It took him less than 30 seconds to arrive next to the auraloid gland, and for the first time he got a glimpse at how insanely potent Marstin’s mana was compared to his own. It was like looking into the sun, and he was afraid of even trying to touch it. Nevertheless, he had no other choice.

Squeezing through cells gingerly, he came up right next to the pulsing gland and just barely brushed it with his crystal. He moved back in shock when he felt like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning, but he could sense that he might be able to harness the mana if he did it very delicately. He shifted up against it again and felt the shock—but this time he rode through the buzzing in his crystal as he siphoned out the tiniest amount.

Even that nearly overwhelmed Progen, and he was barely able to wrestle the energy to the point where it wouldn’t shatter his crystal. Once he had “tamed” it, he felt himself brimming with mana, over and above what he could safely hold for long, in fact. Before it caused him too much harm, he sent it out into the body, reinvigorating all of the nerves between the brain and the heart, regenerating a few places along the way that had dying cells.

“Hit it!”

Neurological impulses flashed through the brain and into the heart as Progen followed along. At first, nothing happened, and the dungeon crystal started to worry. An eternity later, a ragged *thump* occurred in the heart, followed by a second stronger one, and then an even stronger third and fourth. In a few seconds, the heart was beating like normal, pushing blood throughout the circulatory system again.

Red blood cell count is dangerously low. Oxygen deprivation throughout the body is imminent.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

It was literally like playing with fire, but he was already in this deep. Progen accessed even more of Marstin’s mana, his crystal acting as an electrified funnel as he tamed and spread the energy around, producing trillions of red blood cells, oxygen molecules for failing cells, repairs to damaged sections of the body, and in general bringing Marstin back to full health.

Everything seems like it’s back to normal. There is a large amount of foreign mana bombarding the skin again, and there is a potential threat nearby. I’m waking our host up now.

At the same time, Stemmy sent signals throughout the fully repaired brain, causing Marstin to wake up and take a breath at the same time. Progen felt the host of his dungeon get up in a hurry, and his assistant told him that he was right – there seemed to be another conflict afoot. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to help, the dungeon crystal was spent; channeling all of that mana (which was a surprisingly tiny trickle compared to how much was still inside of the gland) had eaten up all of his mental strength. He was pretty sure that if he tried to touch the gland again within the next few hours, he might not be able to handle it.

“It’s up to you now, Marstin. Go get ‘em.

Chapter 54

From the darkness of the void, Marstin heard yelling. His first reaction was annoyance; who was being so rude as to wake him up with yelling. His second reaction was the realization that he could hear, which was followed by the question whether he’d become a ghost or not. The feeling of his heart, the feeling of pressure on his body, and the movement of his lungs indicated otherwise. He was alive, somehow.

He opened one eye subtly, allowing his augmented sight to take in his environment. Marstin was currently strewn on the floor below the pillar he had hit, reminding him of the bruises he was developing. The room was still filled with the malicious demonic mind control mana, which at this point had rendered everyone unconscious except for the guild master Gru, Marcus, Linda, and Oswald. It took him a moment to spot Kyra, who had fallen unconscious with tears in her eyes and her hand reaching for him.

The source of the shouting came from Lord Albrec, who was screaming in pain and pressing his hands against his head as if in pain. The four still-conscious adventurers were in the same posture, though not visibly suffering the same amount of pain as the malicious lord was. Though the adventurers all appeared to still be suffering against the invasion of the malicious mana, Marstin could no longer feel it. In fact, it felt no different to him than the air of the forest.

Seeing the man distracted and turned away, Marstin carefully checked his body by slightly moving each limb and joint. Nothing seemed broken, even his heart, which he could have sworn had stopped pumping as he. . . died? Regardless of the exact chain of events, the young adventurer could still fight, and that’s all that mattered.

Slowly, painfully, Marstin used the pillar to climb back onto his feet. He couldn’t feel his magic anymore; neither the ‘red magic’ nor the ‘blue aura’ answered his call. Yet, somehow, something was flowing within him that felt … familiar; like slipping on an old pair of shoes. Marstin pulled out his enchanted daggers and began walking toward his enemy. The four adventurers noticed him moving with shocked eyes, but all four smiled at him with relief.

“Kick his ass, Marstin!” Marcus yelled. “Show him what real Graniton men are made of!”

As he moved with an unsteady gait, Lord Albrec finally turned around. The two shared shocked looks toward the other. Albrec was clearly stunned that Marstin was still alive, and Marstin was astonished to find the lord’s eyes replaced by swirling masses of screaming faces.

“You!” Lord Albrec screamed “You did this! You can’t even die right! Argh!” He screamed again and collapsed, causing the crystal orb he’d used to control Marstin to roll onto the floor towards the young adventurer. Marstin noticed that it no longer glowed, and in fact was filled with cracks. Upon colliding with his boot, it shattered into dust.

“How did you do it?” the lord screamed at Marstin. “How did you overcome the curse, to send it back to ME?” As he continued to scream in pain, Lord Albrec’s body began to sag noticeable all around, as if the man’s body was having trouble keeping itself together. “What have you DONE to ME?”

“Looks like you’re suffering a backlash,” Marstin observed coldly. “Didn’t they teach you that curses reflect back onto their caster if they’re repelled? That’s magic 101 that even seven year old’s are taught.”

“This can’t be the end! I was so close,” Lord Albrec screamed. “I can’t die! I won’t die! Not without taking you with me!” With that, the slogging mass rushed at Marstin, arms flailing madly in an attempt to hit the smaller adventurer.

Marstin leaped back and unleashed his barrage of throwing knives into the flesh of the decomposing lord. Amazingly, while the knives easily pierced the man’s skin before returning to Marstin’s grasp, the pouring blood from the increasing number of wounds failed to slow down the mass of the man at all. Albrec roared and slammed his fists into the ground, shattering the chairs into splinters.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Albrec wondered aloud. “But it hurts! But it doesn’t hurt? My head, my head, MY HEAD! I’LL MAKE YOU PAY!”

The hideous monster screamed, and suddenly a huge red ball of magical energy formed within his mouth, aimed at the downed adventurer’s from Graniton. Marstin didn’t hesitate as he leaped in front of his friends as a beam of red energy was launched at him.

“I finally get to use these!” the young adventurer shouted, crossing his arms in front of him so his bracers were touching. When the magical beam of red light hit them, Marstin was pressed back into the chairs, but the magical bracers succeeded in their purpose as they turned dull. The magic was perfectly reflected, and the former lord’s head was pierced through. The half head let out a moan, but still took two steps towards Marstin, who drew his daggers for another barrage.

Before Marstin could continue his attack, Albrec let out a final, piercing scream before his body lost all semblance of humanity and collapsed into itself, creating a large fleshy mass covered in red from the blood that never ceased to pour. In fact, Marstin noticed, the blood appeared to be gushing out now and wrapping the body.

Marstin’s suspicions were aroused further when he noticed that the red mana in the air still remained, despite Albrec implying earlier he had to be around to control it. The four adventurers had finally fallen unconscious as well, leaving Marstin the sole observer to what was happening.

There was a sudden jolt in the red mass that drew Marstin’s attention, and his eyes locked onto something moving within it that was glowing. It was the crystal, the last demon mind control crystal Lord Albrec had attempted to use to take control of Marstin. The young man threw his daggers at it in vain, as the crystal had migrated toward the center of the former lord and was protected by whatever remained of the fleshy human.

When the crystal reached the center, the room seemed to freeze as the red mana littering the air stilled, before swirling around even faster until a strong wind filled the ballroom, sending small objects flying into the swirling dome of air and mana that surrounded the red mass. Marstin held up his arm to shield his eyes, but never took his gaze off the mass.

The red mass shifted in place, then shrunk and hardened until it had taken on the appearance of a large red egg. Marstin could no longer see the crystal glowing from within. He tensed and readied his daggers.

With a loud crunching noise, a large crack surged out of the egg’s left side, followed by a second impact crack from within on the front. The shell attempted in vain to keep its shape, before an arm punched through, a red fleshy arm without any blemishes or scars. It receded, and then the egg exploded out and forced Marstin to abandon his attack pose to dive under a table for protection. He peeked up after a moment passed.

There, where the egg had been, stood a young man with his fist outstretched. He appeared to be naked, though a flowing river of blood gave his body a skintight mockery of clothes. His hair was short, and his body was a bit skinny and on the short side. If you squinted enough, you could easily imagine what the young man would look like without a few more meals: pale as a ghost, skin sticking to bone, and hollow eyes unable to see the light.

Marstin stared at a red version of himself.

The doppelganger retracted his fist and stared at it, thrumming his fingers as if curious. He then looked up at Marstin, and grinned.

“Aren’t you going to greet an old friend?” he asked.

Marstin squinted at the other him. “By any chance, are you my inner demon? No, that’s not completely right. You’re the blood curse aren’t you? You’ve always been the curse.”

“I am you,” the curse made flesh corrected slightly. “You and I have been the same person for 8 years now. How about a hug?”

“I’m not sure where you’re seeing an emotional connection here,” Marstin refuted. “You’ve been killing me for 8 years.”

“But not as you understood it. And not as my caster understood it,” the blood curse laughed, throwing his arms up in celebration. “You do not understand my joy, Marstin. But empathy is a human trait, isn’t it? Don’t you want to know my story?”

“Not really,” Marstin admitted as he threw his daggers at his twin. “I’d rather finish this. You don’t strike me as the peaceful type.”

The cursed Marstin smiled and, shocking Marstin, easily grabbed the daggers out of the air before twirling them in his hand. The daggers did not return to Marstin.

“Surprised?” the doppelganger chuckled. “Didn’t you hear me? We’re the same person. I’m you, inside and out, but without any of your weaknesses.” He casually tossed the daggers back to Marstin and took a seat. “Didn’t the healer say to overcome your trauma, you had to face it head on? Hear my story, for you are the only one in this entire world who understands me, just as I understand you.”

“Fine,” Marstin agreed grudgingly, his curiosity winning out against his rational thought. “Tell me your story.”

“I am unique,” the monster in human form began. “I am a curse, one created via a drop of blood to target and eliminate anyone sharing the same bloodline. Uniquely, I was cast with the added ability to target the minds of others and specifically target the memories related to the victim. I was cast on our father, and thus you, before our mother intervened.”

The curse’s face became an odd mix of loss and anger. “She drew the worst of me into herself, leaving only a small portion remaining in your body, which she locked using your innate magic talent. She could not take all of it from you, because I was too strong. Thus, I remained trapped inside your mind. I would have remained there, trapped, had you not suffered a life of hardship. Your body, weakened from disease and malnourishment, couldn’t restrain me any longer. But, sealed as I was, I could not harm you directly anymore. I, in my mindless state, was forced into a basic level of reasoning to complete my purpose.” It shrugged its shoulders. “At first, I resorted to taking control of the diseases in you, using them as soldiers to weaken you further. However, I ran into some. . . interference, as we approached the end of our existence. That was almost a year ago today, was it not, that Burch beat you so hard you were ready to die were it not for Kyra’s face.”

Marstin glared, but kept quiet.

“This last year was the hardest for me,” the Marstin clone continued. “I was forced again and again to try new things, to overcome the new obstacles within you. My thinking and planning became so complex, and I began other methods to ensure your demise. And once I observed the mana from the crystal you destroyed six months ago, I was able to engulf the part of your brain associated with trauma and pain memories. I became your ‘inner demon’, as you call it; the voice in your head keeping you honest and suspicious. And as our relationship grew, I discovered something.”

“I didn’t want you to die,” it grinned evilly. “But a curse cannot simply choose to stop working, no matter how intelligent I became. So, I decided to kill you in a more. . . metaphorical sense. How did it feel to use my power Marstin?”

“The ‘red magic’ was you; I thought so,” Marstin nodded. “Makes sense; you were locked in my source of magic with full control over it, and your blood connection was a perfect medium for hemomancy. So the after effects that caused me to become cold and rational, that was you?”

“I’d hoped you would use my power enough that we’d become inseparable. Had you gone far enough, the ‘side effect’ as you called it would have been permanent. We would have become the perfect adventurer.”

“You mean the perfect weapon,” Marstin snorted. “But that plan failed. I unsealed you, and what? You returned to the normal methods of killing?”

“I had no choice but to try. I cannot go against my purpose,” the twin laughed. “But, luckily, my former enemy became my greatest ally. Because you died, Marstin. I won, but not before my rival expelled me from you, causing the rebound on my caster. So, now we both can exist. We can go our separate ways.”

“Uh huh,” Marstin nodded unconvincingly. “So then, why is the demon mana still flying around the room?”

“I absorbed some interesting information from my caster’s mind,” the doppelganger chuckled darkly. “And, I know some interesting things now, Marstin. His plans were deep, but even he didn’t seem to understand his role. But I do, and I can do what he couldn’t.” At this, Marstin’s twin turned solemn and serious as he leaned forward to stare at the young man opposite him. “Marstin, I truly can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. Take your friends, and return to Graniton. No one will ever come to bother you again, and you can live out the rest of your days peacefully. That’s what you want, isn’t it? My caster thought to tempt you with greed, but you’re already satisfied and full. Go home; this isn’t your fight anymore.”

“You want to continue Albrec’s work,” Marstin noted as he began tossing and catching his throwing dagger. “Use the demonic mana to control the government officials here, and spread through the North. All while wearing my face, I might add. You must know how I feel about that, right? Since we’re so close?”

“How many will I kill? How many more orphan Marstins will I make? Yeah, I knew you’d say that, in the end. I just needed enough time to get used to my body.”

With a surge, the two Marstins slammed into each other, daggers and blood daggers parrying blow for blow as the wind surged and screamed around them. Marstin grimaced with each blow; his doppel was matching him in speed, and surpassing him in strength. The injuries the young adventurer had accumulated weren’t helping matters.

“Give it up, Marstin!” the curse ordered. “You can’t beat me. You’re weakened, and I know every move in your arsenal. And I’m stronger, too!” It lashed out with a vicious kick, connecting with Marstin’s gut and forcing back into the chairs and fallen bodies. Marstin quickly rolled away as the doppel landed where he’d just been lying, blood daggers easily piercing the stone floor like butter.

“You can’t throw your dagger as you like to because they’ll return to my hand just as easily as to yours,” the curse taunted as it freed its dagger to resume exchanging blows with Marstin. “This body is made from my caster’s body, with all its mass condensed into strength that exceeds yours. Without me, you have no magic. Give it up!”

“Lightball!” Marstin incanted, creating a small orb of light that flew into the eyes of his imposter, blinding him long enough for Marstin to move away. “Who says I don’t have any magic? I’m just a little rusty is all!”

“Your basic spells will not help you,” the imposter laughed. “You might be able to use magic now, but your education still ends at your seventh year of life! I, on the other hand, am a Master of Hemomancy!” His arm reared back, blood vessels pulsing, as the imposter’s right arm doubled in size before smacking into Marstin, sending him hurtling through another set of chairs and onto the floor.

Marstin coughed painfully and stood back up, daggers drawn. “Heal,” he muttered, causing his small wounds to mend over, but the basic healing spell could do little to help his bruises and other injuries. However, Marstin detected something again after using his own mana. Something inside him throbbed with each use, and a strange sense in his head told him to. . . feed it. Watching his doppelganger approaching, Marstin decided to go for broke and channeled his mana directly into his lower gut. At the very least, if nothing else, his mana would slow the pain from the area.

“I do like you, Marstin, but that won’t stop me from killing you if you persist in fighting me,” fake Marstin cautioned.

“Try your worst, lesser me,” Marstin taunted. The doppelganger only grinned in response.

The two returned to their frenzied attack, parrying dagger blow after dagger blow. Thrusts were met with counters, counters were met with parrying, parrying was met with downwards slashes, and slashes were met with thrusts. A game of daggers played out between the two, cutting holes in both their outfits, even Marstin’s dress armor which was having trouble against the blood-made daggers.

He felt something inside him, something familiar.

“You know, you’re wrong,” Marstin growled as a blood dagger left a large cut on his arm. “I do have something you don’t.”

“You’re not going to say something cheesy like true friends?” the imposter taunted.

“Actually,” Marstin said as a familiar blue flame lit up in his eyes, “I was going to say I had a better color than you.”

Blue flames erupted without warning on Marstin’s daggers, causing them to slice the blood daggers in half before slicing the imposter Marstin’s head off, though it didn’t fall to the floor as he had expected. The curse’s face looked honestly surprised, before morphing into an angry condescension.

“That’s not enough to kill me!” it roared in annoyance.

“I figured,” Marstin nodded. “But, you can’t catch my daggers anymore, you blood bastard!” The daggers flew true and sank into the imposter’s head, piercing the flesh and bone to reach the glowing crystal hidden within the center. As it did so, the wind quieted all around as the red demonic mana began to vanish into nothingness.

The head dropped to the floor next to its body, which had begun to dissolve into ash. Marstin plopped down onto the floor next to the head, himself exhausted from the ordeal. The curse’s eyes looked up at him.

“Seems I lost,” the curse observed. “I didn’t think you’d recover so fast. As I should have expected of my rival.”

“Yeah, you lost,” Marstin agreed. “Any regrets?”

The eyes rolled around for a moment unnaturally, grossing Marstin out a little. “Not really. My only true desire was killing you, and that was acquired earlier. Everything else, I got from you.”

“Is that so?” Marstin murmured as he looked up at the ceiling. “I wonder if I would have become like you, then, had I stayed a thief.”

“If you’re wondering that, then you still don’t know yourself very well, Marstin Hardgrove.” The bodiless head laughed.

The two watched as the body finished dissolving into dust, just as the head began to crack.

“You’ve stopped the plan for Istut, Marstin,” the curse suddenly warned as its head cracked and turned white. “But this is just a setback for them. You’ve set them back a long way, but they’ll just move on to a different place to try again. Don’t grow complacent. You have yet to see the true face of the Horrors and their agents. And not all of Albrec’s allies truly understood his connection with them.”

“I understand,” Marstin nodded. “I’ve won the battle, not the war. Funny that, but I don’t feel very scared at that prospect. Actually. . . I’m feeling a bit sad.” He looked down at his curse’s face, the only thing remaining as the rest of the head dissolved. “Oddly enough, I’m sad I didn’t give you a proper name. How do you feel about Chris?”

“Your blabbing habit is back, finally.” The curse, Chris, chuckled weakly. “Heh, I missed that. . . thank you. . ..”

And with the last bit of wind in the room, the dust of Marstin’s pain was finally blown away. Though not before a tiny pinprick of red light landed on one of Marstin’s open wounds, causing it to heal up without the young adventurer noticing.

Chapter 55

The aftermath of the incident in the ballroom was said to have shaken the very core of the North’s stability. Marstin didn’t quite remember anything quite like that description, but he personally was shaken quite a bit after the guards finally burst into the room and found him to be the only person still conscious, surrounded by a destroyed room and in the midst of checking the queen’s pulse. Needless to say, in his weakened state Marstin wasn’t quite able to explain himself before he was recognized as the suspect in the prince’s assassination.

The sheer number of guards that dogpiled on top of him to rescue the leader of Istut would also become the stuff of legends, the story ranging from a pile that reached the ceiling to forming a small mountain. Once again, Marstin couldn’t quite remember this because he’d ended up finally falling unconscious from the heat and lack of air.

Thus, when he awoke in a fashionably modern sickroom in the castle, the incident had more or less settled itself as much as it could without his input. Upon his awakening, Marstin was interviewed by what felt like everyone and their mothers over the specifics of what had happened. Thankfully, the guild master, Gru, had managed to stay conscious long enough to explain most of what happened, up until Lord Albrec charged at Marstin in his deteriorating form, that the interviews weren’t overtly hostile. Evidently, revealing yourself to be the missing fifth hero of Istut added a lot of weight to your words.

Between the interviews, Marstin had been visited by a variety of people he knew. Queen Nagri had visited with Princess Dimitria and Prince Tormand, who had mostly recovered. The royal family had thanked Marstin for his help in uncovering the king’s murderer, with the prince thanking Marstin for saving his life. Though he seemed genuine, Marstin felt something off with the prince, as if the young man’s mind was preoccupied by something. They’d left soon after, with the queen promising to ‘deliver to Marstin what he was owed’, whatever that meant.

The Countess was the only member of the four regional leaders to visit, though she, as the youngest member, delivered the thanks from the other three for rescuing them as well. She also had taken to dropping several hints about expanding business to Grantion, and though Marstin had repeatedly assured her he was not the person to speak to about this, her sly smile seemed to indicate she wasn’t quite listening, or she knew something he didn’t.

Even Sir Holler managed to slip in to scold Marstin for ruining his specially made dress armor so soon, showing the young adventurer the tatters the armor had become following the battle in the ballroom. The tailor was only pacified by the young adventurer once he learned the original dress armor he’d made was still fully intact, and only then did Sir Holler leave, though not before reassuring Marstin that his battle armor would be ready before he left the capital.

Thus, Marstin wasn’t surprised when Guild Master Gru came by in between the interviews to speak to the young adventurer.

“I still can’t fully process your look,” Marstin squinted as he looked over the guild master’s body, now dressed in appropriately sized clothes. “I know it sounds strange, but I prefer your muscled form.”

The guild master laughed, slapping his knee in a familiar manner. “I know, and to be honest, it's quite strange walking around like this again without having to worry about smacking my head against doorways or fitting in places. It’ll be easier to drink tea, though, now that my hands are smaller once again.” He lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “So, surprised?”

“In so many ways,” Marstin agreed, “but the biggest for me is that the tribes didn’t seem to remember you. Why is that?”

“Oh, that,” Gru waved his tattooed arm dismissively. “It’s not a curse, not like you. When my investigation revealed the existence of the blood curse, the elders and I agreed that I needed to vanish. They hid my records and sealed the memories of the younger tribal members while I hid myself in Graniton. And since the blood curse blocked the memories of your family, my companions, it was rather easy to bribe certain officials to hide my records. They didn’t want the only known hero to be a member of the tribes, you see.”

“You’re talking about it, about them,” Marstin’s eyes widened and leaned up off his pillow, wincing. The guild master gently pushed him back down. “You remember my parents?”

“To be honest, I didn’t quite forget them,” Gru frowned. “Much like Yolna, I was able to take steps to protect my mind from the curse, but not enough, I’m afraid, to recall everything like her. Just enough to push me to continue my investigations with Yolna’s guidance. Unfortunately, I did forget about you, Marstin, for which I apologize.” He bowed his head. “I wasn’t able to help you when you needed it most, despite being your godfather.”

“Godfather?” Marstin blinked.

“Of course,” Gru leaned back and smiled. “I was there for your birth. I had to fight Tormald for the right, of course, but it wasn’t a big deal to break his toys in my devil-state. I wonder if that’s why I brought you into the guild office for tea despite your history. Did I remember you somehow?” He broke off, musing into the ceiling.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Marstin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Mind answering some questions for me, guild master? The guards and everyone else haven’t been very forthcoming.”

“Go ahead,” Gru nodded.

“What’s happening now?” Marstin asked. “Is everyone alright after that huge dose of mana?”

“As you can imagine, the trial has been suspended for the moment,” the guild master shrugged. “Lord Albrec’s attack on the representatives was swift and effective, but thankfully not fatal. Everyone has made a complete recovery with no ill effects, a god’s blessing indeed that the demonic mana dissipated instead of causing mana-poisoning. My testimony got things started, and yours is the final nail on the coffin, so to speak, for Lord Albrec and his allies. The investigation is backed by the full political and military power of the northern countries, the merchant guilds, and even the Southern church, not to mention the many individuals who have been freed from the demon mind control magic.”

“How many?” Marstin narrowed his eyes.

“More than there should be,” Gru snorted. “I have no doubt that a number of Albrec’s allies are pretending to be ‘cured’, which is thanks to the destruction of your blood curse, I might add. Everyone is cooperating fully with the investigation, though, and there isn’t a method to separate out those merely exposed to mind control magic and those who were fully under it. As such, it will be a long time, if ever, that all the rats are found and taken care of.”

Marstin nodded. “So, anything else I should be aware of?”

“A few things,” the guild master chuckled. “For one, the Graniton adventurers have all been released and pardoned for their ‘rambunctious racket’ on account of Lord Albrec being found and defeated. I suspect a real ‘Hero’s Feast’ is being planned out in Graniton, as we speak, for your return, possibly rivaling the one Queen Nagri wants to throw for you.”

Marstin groaned and put his pillow over his face.

“Aside from that,” the guild master continued without a pause. “It seems you’ll be coming into a great deal of silver and gold soon. The memories of your parents, and their many contributions to the country, have placed the financial department of Istut under a great deal of stress, playing investigators themselves, with Yolna assisting them with her unchanged records. Thankfully, most of your family’s assets were ‘inherited’ by Ghevin Drestice through some less-than-legal means, possibly mind control or just bribery I suspect, and the various other properties and such are being tallied now to be returned to you by the Queen herself. You obviously won’t be able to inherit your father’s position as the Lord of the South, due to your age and lack of experience; but let me be the first to congratulate you, Lord of Graniton.” He winked at Mastin’s eye peeking from behind the pillow.

“I refuse with extreme prejudice,” Marstin protested into the pillow. “I have had enough of politics.”

“Welcome to real hero life,” Gru shrugged. “Oh right, you were unanimously voted by the Istutian council of this or that into becoming a true Hero of Istut. So, you’re stuck with that now, too.”

Marstin groaned and dragged the sheets over his head and pillow, the only form of escape he could manage. Gru laughed and laughed until Marstin’s ire-filled voice reminded the man that he too would have to live a Hero's life again, now that his identity had been revealed. The look of dread on the guild master’s face was almost sweet enough to make Marstin forget his own troubles to come, almost. Because, out of the corner of his eye, Marstin saw several pairs of eyes peeking in from outside the sick room, and several cakes and stitched banners with a distinct ‘HERO’ sewn in. He groaned once more.

*   *   *

The dark room was silent as four shadowy figures sat around the round table, the largest chair empty and devoid of any signs of life.

“That fool, that complete and utter fool,” the first voice roared in fury. “How could he do this to us? Demon mind control magic is one thing, but not even demons would try what he did!” The source of the first voice slammed his fists into the table. “What was he thinking? That bastard Albrec, I’ll bring him back from the dead just to kill him myself!”

“Enough!” the third voice interrupted darkly. “You don’t think you’re the only one with everything at stake do you? My profits are hemorrhaging over the evidence I’m being forced to hand over; your small triflings won’t harm you in the slightest if you find a few good scapegoats.”

“You dare!” the first voice arose in anger. “Sacrifice my men, for what? The shock of the situation hasn’t even worn off yet, and you want me to throw them to the wolves? I’ve already been forced to silence a number who knew too much already!”

“Now, now,” the second voice pressed lazily. “No need for all this fuss. It’s not like we didn’t have back-up plans for a situation like this. You might lose men and profit, but unless either of you royally screw up, they won’t be able to track Albrec to us. I’m a bit more concerned over Albrec’s ‘associates’--any news?”

“None,” the fourth, raspy voice whispered hazily. “They appear to have vanished with Albrec’s death, taking their resources and connections with them. They seem to have fled into the Country of Devils, though I doubt they’ll stay there, given their connection to Horrors.”

Everyone in the room visibly shuddered at the word.

“Demons are one thing; Horrors are another,” the first voice growled. “The protections he gave us were worthless, once he revealed their power. I almost fell victim to his control, had it not been for that brat. Damn, I remember his father’s smug grin now too, bastard.”

“Nothing to do now but rid ourselves of any remaining connections to them, then,” the third voice audibly shrugged. “A simple-enough task, with the church moving in full force to help rid Istut of their taint. That being said, I will not be attending this little meeting of ours again until things calm down. I wish you all luck.”

“Damn him to the nine hells,” the first voice snarled. “He was always the weakest contributor, and now he has the easiest time.”

“And as usual, he makes a valid point,” the second voice pointed out. “I will be occupied for the foreseeable future covering my back, and so this is farewell for now.” And with that, the presence of the shadowy figure of the third voice vanished. The first voice let out another string of curses before they too vanished from the room without bidding farewell to the fourth voice.

The table of five was silent now, four chairs empty. Only the raspy sound of breathing echoed in the room as the fifth chair suddenly became filled with a physical being, one old and weak-looking and covered in a layer of shadow.

Stern eyes peeked out of the blackness to look at the fifth chair. “A minor setback, Albrec, yes. For the great plan, everything indeed is just a minor setback. My friend, I will ensure the plan continues as your soul is offered to the great one.”

Suddenly, the four empty chairs vibrated as four shadow beings appeared, all uniform in size and appearance.

“The plan for Istut had failed,” the raspy voiced man announced. “It appears the usage of demon dungeon cores for mental manipulation will have to be set aside for a century or two. The devil hunters have moved their spies into Istut to find us, and we must move on. Has progress been made?”

“The newly crowned Emperor is eager to carry his father’s legacy forward, and he has begun a new expansion war,” a muted voice answered. “The newest high priest is young, arrogant, and pining over his lover’s lifespan. Already he has responded favorably to us.”

“Good,” the raspy voice audibly smiled. “I believe it best we send him the icon, then. I am getting too old to continue leading; it is time I have a successor for when I attain eternal life with the great one. Send it to him using our new agents, those sisters who fled for overindulging in their demonic heritage. The voice paused. “I will remain here to salvage what I can. The youngling responsible for our failure has grasped my interest, for his magic stinks with a trace of the presence of the great one. Go now, for the great one’s return.”

“For the great one’s return,” the four figures pledged, before vanishing into the darkness.

The shadowy figure’s eyes vanished into the darkness, which too evaporated quickly into nothingness, leaving behind only a frozen chair encasing a long-dead corpse.

Epilogue

Five Years Later

“Alright, you can do this,” Marstin mumbled to himself. “You’ve practiced for months now, you’ve trained for it, and you know what to expect. You got this.”

A hand slapped into his back, breaking his concentration. He turned around to glare at Archer, formally Archie, who was grinning from ear-to-ear while looking splendid in his new suit of dress armor. “Aye boss, no need to fret. You’ll do just fine.”

“You called me boss again,” Marstin snorted.

“Leader, sorry,” the young man, almost a full adult, waved off. “Anyway, what’s there to worry about? Me and the boys, sorry,” he corrected himself. “The other members of Rogue and I have things covered while you’re off on your break. Yarrow and the others will be back soon too, so the leadership will be fine.”

“They aren’t back yet?” Marstin grimaced. “Then we won’t be able to continue. Those girls would eat me alive if they missed this.”

“Nice try, Marstin, but don’t think you can use us to wheedle your way out of this,” Yarrow’s teasing voice drew the attention of the two men to the door. Yarrow was leaning against the doorway with an amused smile, looking marvelous in her shaman attire. “Archer, be a dear and see yourself out for a moment. I need to talk to our ‘fearless’ leader for a moment.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man saluted before running out, Yarrow’s harsh training having conditioned him into quick obedience.

The two waited until the door shut behind the departing young adventurer.

“So,” Yarrow began, “the day has finally come. Still nervous, are you?”

“Almost as bad as when those frost drakes ambushed us in the mountains when we covered for Yule’s pilgrimage,” Marstin admitted, shaking his sweaty palms. “Truly, I’m glad you made it. I know the window for returning so soon must have been stressful. We tried to put it off until the end of the spring, but this was the only time that fit our schedule.”

“I understand, no rest for the weary,” Yarrow winked. “Must be tough being the most decorated adventurer in the country, and the new king’s close confidant. Tell you what, how about I kidnap you and bring you back to the tribe? You can live your life out peacefully there without any worries.”

“Except contributing to the population like a studhorse,” Marstin rolled his eyes. “Every time I visit, I can’t take two steps out in the open without you or the others; otherwise I’d be proposed to by every available girl in the area.”

“What can I say, we know good quality when we see it,” Yarrow teased. Her expression then turned solemn and she walked over, taking his hands into her own. “I do mean it, though. If you wanted to not do this, I could take you away.”

Marstin gave the lovely lady a gentle smile and removed his hands from her own. “We had this talk years ago, Yarrow. I’m sorry, but I am unable to see you as more than the great friend and comrade you are. My heart is set for another.”

“I know,” Yarrow sighed and shrugged. “But it was worth a shot. Men are the ficklest creatures, as they say.”

“Maybe in other places,” Marstin snorted. “But when an Istutian man or women pledges to another, that bond is unbreakable.”

“I know a certain gatekeeper who might disagree,” Yarrow pointed out.

“Larry is an immigrant,” Marstin defended himself. “And she’s the one who won’t commit despite his wooing, only to pummel him when he seeks out other ladies for comfort.”

The two shared a chuckle over the plight of the poor gatekeeper.

“Now, slap your cheeks and get ready,” Yarrow mock-punched him. “It’s almost time. I’ll be with the girls in the front row.” And she left the room, leaving behind the scent of her hair, of which Marstin took a deep whiff. He smiled. Perhaps if things had been different….

He turned around to face the mirror to go over his appearance again. Traditionally, his parents or guardians would be here to assist him with the last-minute preparations, but Marstin had forgone the offered help from Gru, Yolna, Olivia, and the others under the mistaken belief it would be easy. He’d failed to take into account his own nerves.

The person that stared back out of the mirror was a different person compared to nearly six years ago, when he’d become an adventurer. Marstin’s height had caught up with his father’s, and his frame was now defined by strong muscles (though still smaller in size than the average Istutian male). His brown hair was parted to one side today, instead of the controlled bed-head he normally had. A light grizzle covered his face, which he smoothed down after running his subtly glowing hand over the facial hair. His outfit was a traditional formal attire; well-made dark leather pants and shoes, a button-up leather shirt with several pockets, and a suit made out of caribou fur that was meant to be worn over his body like a cape instead of worn properly. In terms of defense, it was quite literally the worst armor he’d ever bought from Elijah, while also being one of the more expensive sets.

He adjusted his collar once more before a knock at the door alerted him.

“It’s time!” Archer’s voice came through.

Marstin nodded to himself, and smiled.

A few moments later, he found himself in the special event room of the Stargazer Inn, the same one once used to send his parents’ and family members’ spirits off. Now, it was being used to send off something else. Marstin looked over into the happy and teary face of Kyra, who looked stunning in her snow white and sky blue wedding dress. The fabric had been woven together using leather from the ice wyvern from years back, a gift from Olivia, and sewn together with sky spider silk, a gift from Yolna.

The two adventurers were standing on a raised platform, with Linda in her priestly attire standing before them. From behind, the duo’s closest friends and allies were in attendance with varying states of emotion: Olen weeping silently with a large smile while dressed in his old dress armor; Gru, the still-active Graniton Adventurer’s Guild guild master, sitting with several elders from the tribes who came to honor Marstin and Kyra; the various other members of leadership in Rogue including Archer, Yarrow, Jillia, Yule, and Etna, the trio all weeping happily into each other’s arms; the Iron Yaks and Red Family, of whom George and Shane were sitting together holding hands, a ring on George’s right index finger; Yolna with a giggling toddler; Elijah with his wide happy smile; Sue in her professional casual attire; and the many others who’d become friends over the years.

“We are gathered here to witness the bonding of these two in this ceremony of matrimony,” Linda declared once everyone had become silent. “I ask the lord Equinox of cycles to bless this pairing and their start of a new chapter in their lives. Do you both accept the other as your partner, in sickness and health, in life and in death, in good times and bad, and in spring and winter?”

“We do,” Marstin and Kyra said in unison.

“Then upon your kiss, I pronounce you married under the authority of the country of Istut,” Linda declared.

They turned to face each other, and Kyra pulled Marstin into a deep kiss. The room cheered.

And Marstin smiled, a purple gleam dancing around in his eyes next to a blue speck.

*   *   *

Progen grumbled at yet another unnecessary waste of time as Stemmy described some sort of ceremony in which Marstin was participating. The dungeon crystal could theoretically flex his mana whenever he wanted and observe everything through his host’s eyes, but when he heard about this “marriage” ritual, he wanted nothing to do with it.

They are creating a wonderful bond between them that transcends even the difficulties they will face in their lives, and their love will continue unabated for an eternity.

The cluster of interneuron cells had expanded greatly since Stemmy was able to be transported up to the brain all those years ago, and the permanent integration into the central nervous system had expanded his personality to the point where Progen barely recognized him anymore. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but his helper certainly liked to wax poetic at the most random times.

“I don’t really care, Stemmy. Unless you think this will somehow solve my problem?”

For the last few years, ever since getting rid of the Blood Curse that had nearly destroyed his dungeon, Progen had been actively trying to take over the body – to no avail. Physically being in the brain hadn’t done the job, nor did transferring Stemmy’s cluster of cells so that he could interface directly with the billions of neurons present in the constantly active organ. Through it all, there was something that prevented the crystal from taking complete control, which they eventually pinpointed through months of experiments and trial and error.

In short, the body already had a soul that was in charge, and nothing he could do short of destroying that soul would allow the dungeon crystal to take over.

As much as he wanted to be selfish and get rid of that stumbling block, Progen had to admit that the thought of destroying Marstin’s soul was somehow…wrong. If he had a typical dungeon inside of a mountain like what had originally been intended, the crystal wouldn’t have hesitated in trying to kill the human; as the body was literally his dungeon now, the thought of eliminating the very soul of his dungeon was abhorrent.

So, he had spent years trying to find a way around the restriction, without having to resort to extinguishing a soul in the process – if he could even do that in the first place, of course. The soul was so ingrained in the very structure of the multi-cellular organism he called home that removing it was impossible, or else took a lot more mana than Progen had at his disposal.

Alas, there had been no solution that either the dungeon crystal or his interneuron assistant could find. Years were spent taking care of the body from the inside, eliminating threats and helping to heal injuries when they were sustained, and even doing what he could to strengthen and grow the body – all in the hope that he might one day actually be able to take it over and use it himself. Every day, however, was just another period of time when that hope was constantly dashed, as no sudden answer to their problem appeared.

Progen was worried that he would be trapped inside his dungeon without being able to fully control it forever. That wasn’t necessarily an exaggeration, either, because the dungeon crystal was more than capable of keeping Marstin alive perpetually. Stemmy informed him that normally, humans didn’t live much longer than a century – and that was if they were lucky. Some adventurers were able to extend their lifespan by adapting certain magical effects to keep their bodies going for a bit longer – sometimes additional centuries, even – but they all succumbed to something they couldn’t avoid: cell death due to changes in the body’s natural patterns. It could start small, like a portion of the kidney’s pattern decaying over time, so that the natural regeneration that the body relied upon to constantly replace dying cells didn’t have an accurate pattern to follow.

Healing spells and potions wouldn’t help with that decay, because they did the same thing that Progen and even Marstin did with his mana when healing wounds: They used the natural pattern the body followed to put the body back the way it was supposed to be. Progen, on the other hand, could identify those decayed parts and basically reset everything; with his help, Marstin would never die, would never age past a certain point, and would always be in as perfect of health as possible. Granted, if he had his head chopped off or the damage to his body was so bad that he died before he could be healed, then he wouldn’t live forever – but for all other intents and purposes, he was effectively as immortal as a dungeon crystal.

It was just a shame that Progen was stuck in there, unable to escape and unable to continue growing. After spreading his influence through the entire body, there was nowhere else for him to go, nowhere for him to expand his dungeon. Very little challenged him anymore, despite the dangers that Marstin constantly threw himself into. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any more demon-filled corrupted crystals and Blood Curses trying to end his existence, so everything was relatively tame in comparison.

Then again, there had constantly been a feeling that the Blood Curse that he had defeated was still hanging around somewhere, like some sort of stain that wouldn’t go away. The dungeon crystal never saw any overt evidence that some remnant of the Curse had managed to survive, and Stemmy said it was likely just a figment of his imagination. Progen didn’t think that was the case, but he couldn’t prove the cluster of interneuron cells wrong.

It will not help with your soul problem, Progen.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so—”

But there might be something happening next that might interest you.

The ceremony was apparently over, as well as a subsequent gathering and celebration – neither of which interested Progen in the least – so he didn’t know what Stemmy was talking about. All it looked like was that Marstin and the female that he had gone through the “marriage” ritual with were going to sleep.

They aren’t going to sleep, Progen.

It didn’t take him long to understand what his assistant was talking about. “Ah…copulation. Big deal. Been there, done that.”

Yes, but if you reach out your senses, you can tell that something is different here – and that might be your way out. Or perhaps just a portion of your crystal’s way out.

“Huh?” Instead of questioning Stemmy any further, Progen reached out with the senses of his dungeon, subtly investigating Marstin’s surroundings, including the very close presence of the female.

“Oh? I see….”

He did, too – but he wasn’t sure if it would work. “You’re right, I can’t fully leave this dungeon anymore, otherwise the shock would probably shatter my crystal. But do you really think…?”

I don’t know for certain, but it is worth a try. The female has stopped whatever had been preventing her reproductive cells from being fertilized. If you break off a small piece of your crystal – which will be infused with a less powerful copy of your soul – and form a sperm cell around it, there is a fairly good chance it might succeed.

It wasn’t exactly a way out, but it might be a way to get what he had always wanted: A dungeon he could fully control.

As events started to unfold outside, Progen concentrated on his crystal, staring at a very small corner of his facets. With a little application of mana – and a lot of pain – he managed to chip off a very tiny piece of his form; inspecting it with his dungeon senses, he could tell that it still held a portion of his soul, though it was dormant because the much more powerful part of his soul was still active in the dungeon. Once it left his influence, however, it would (hopefully) begin to wake up and react just like Progen would.

Getting it down to the reproductive system from the brain took very little time at all, as it passed through the bloodstream and cut through a few vessel walls to reach the area with millions of little reproductive cells just ready and waiting to be released. It was the effort of only a few seconds and a little more application of mana that formed a sperm cell around the tiny crystal shard, and Progen enhanced it with levitation, extended its flagellum, and then sharpened its “head” to a point so that it would have no problem fertilizing the female’s egg. He had done everything he could to ensure that it would be the one to reach the destination first, and now it was time for Marstin to do his part.

It took longer than expected, and the dungeon crystal couldn’t help but be excited. “This could actually work,” he said, more to himself than his assistant. “Who would’ve thought that we’d have a chance to implant my soul into a multi-celled organism at the time it was formed, thereby ensuring that it—he—I would be fully in control? It might not be ideal, but it certainly could be a way to spread my influence.”

That it is. If it works.

“Very true, if it works. I hope so, but nothing like this has ever been attempted before, so it’s a bit of an unknown.”

Absolutely. Oh! It seems as though there are two eggs that ventured down to be fertilized; perhaps you can create another—

Reaching out with Marstin’s senses, Progen could see that his assistant was correct, but it was too late. Seconds later, his special reproductive cell was off to do what he created it for, though the dungeon crystal lost sight of it after it left the body because most of the body’s senses were suddenly a bit jumbled.

At the same time, unseen by either Progen or Stemmy, a small red pinpoint of glowing light left the body through the same means.

“Well, I guess only time will tell if we succeeded, old friend.”

Affirmative.

The End of The Body’s Dungeon

About the Authors

Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue

Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue was once a normal reader on Royal Road Legends. It was there he found the first example of Dungeon Core, except the stories never finished as they became too boring to write or ended before the story really began. Inspired by the idea, and noting the lack of slime-related literature at the time (2015), he wrote and published the first modern Dungeon Core story, “The Slime Dungeon,” on Amazon in 2016. Since then, he has graduated college and written 12 books, as well as maintained the Dungeon Core Facebook group to expand the genre.

If you would like to contact him with any questions, comments, or suggestions for future books you would like to see, you can reach him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/Dungeonstories or at his new website Slime-verse.com

Visit his Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/falconstories and become a patron for as little as $1 a month! As a patron, you have access to works, game builds, chapters in development, and art.

In addition, you can check out and like his Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/falconstories/ if you want to be kept up to date.

Jonathan Brooks

Jonathan Brooks fell in love with the Dungeon Core genre after reading every story he could get his hands on. After consuming practically everything available, he didn’t find a story that included all of the elements that he wanted to read – so he decided to write it himself. From that first book, Dungeon Player, he has published over 25 books, including the rest of the Glendaria Awakens Trilogy, Uniworld Online Trilogy, Station Cores series, Spirit Core series, Dungeon World series, Dungeon Crafting series, and the Hapless Dungeon Fairy series.

If you would like to contact him with any questions, comments, or suggestions for future books you would like to see, you can reach him at jonathanbrooksauthor@gmail.com.

Visit his Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/jonathanbrooksauthor and become a patron for as little as $2 a month! As a Patron, you have access to his current works-in-progress, which he updates with (unedited) chapters every Friday. So, if you can’t wait to find out what happens next in one of his series, this is the place for you!

He will try to keep my blog updated on any new developments, which you can find on his Author Page on Amazon. In addition, you can check out and like his Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/dungeoncorejonathanbrooks

To sign up for his mailing list, please visit: http://eepurl.com/dl0bK5

Beta Readers

A big shout out to our beta readers, who helped us to make this book even better than it was!

Aaron Wiley

Brian Oles

Joshua Chausse

Nate Martin

Sean Hall

Steven Mills

Zack Devney

Books by Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue

The Slime Dungeon Chronicles

The Slime Dungeon (Audiobook available)

The Dungeon’s Town (Audiobook available)

The Dungeon’s Child (Audiobook available)

The Dungeon’s Burden (Audiobook available)

Milly’s Story: Knife in the Dark (Slime Dungeon Novella)

Dungeon Wars Series

Dungeon Wars (Audiobook available)

Dungeon Wars: Inner War (Audiobook coming soon)

The Journal of Magus Falcon: with Claire’s notes

Everlife Series

Hero of Naught: Re-Mastered

Tales of Dungeons Anthologies

Tales of Dungeons

Tales of Dungeons 2

Tales of Dungeons 3

Tales of Dungeons 4

Tales of Dungeons All Hallows 2020

The Body’s Dungeon (with Jonathan Brooks)

Bio Dungeon: Symbiote (Audiobook available)

Bio Dungeon: Parasyte (Audiobook available)

Books by Jonathan Brooks

Glendaria Awakens Trilogy

Dungeon Player (Audiobook available)

Dungeon Crisis (Audiobook available)

Dungeon Guild (Audiobook available)

Glendaria Awakens Trilogy Compilation w/bonus material (Audiobook available)

Uniworld Online Trilogy (2nd Edition)

The Song Maiden (Audiobook available)

The Song Mistress (Audiobook available)

The Song Matron (Audiobook coming soon)

Uniworld Online Trilogy Compilation

Station Cores Series

The Station Core (Audiobook available)

The Quizard Mountains (Audiobook available)

The Guardian Guild (Audiobook available)

The Kingdom Rises (Audiobook available)

The Other Core (Audiobook available)

Station Cores Compilation Complete: Books 1-5 (Audiobook available)

Spirit Cores Series

Core of Fear (Audiobook available)

Children of Fear (Audiobook available)

Carnival of Fear (Audiobook coming soon)

Dungeon World Series

Dungeon World (Audiobook available)

Dungeon World 2 (Audiobook available)

Dungeon World 3 (Audiobook available)

Dungeon World 4 (Audiobook available)

Dungeon World 5 (Audiobook available)

Dungeon World Box Set: Books 1-5

Dungeon Crafting Series

The Crafter’s Dungeon (Audiobook available)

The Crafter’s Defense (Audiobook available)

The Crafter’s Dilemma (Audiobook available)

The Crafter’s Darkness (Audiobook available)

The Crafter’s Dominion (Audiobook available)

The Crafter’s Dynasty – July 2021

Dungeon Crafting Series: Books 1 – 3 (Audiobook available)

The Hapless Dungeon Fairy Series

The Dungeon Fairy (Audiobook available)

The Dungeon Fairy: Two Choices (Audiobook available)

The Dungeon Fairy: Three Lives (Audiobook available)

Serious Probabilities Series

Dungeon of Chance: Even Odds (Audiobook available)

Dungeon of Chance: Double or Nothing (Audiobook coming soon)

The Body’s Dungeon (with Jeffrey “Falcon” Logue)

Bio Dungeon: Symbiote (Audiobook available)

Bio Dungeon: Parasyte (Audiobook available)

Bio Dungeon: Hemostasis

Tales of Dungeons Anthology Series

Tales of Dungeons Vol. 2

Tales of Dungeons Vol. 3

Tales of Dungeons All Hallows 2020

Medical Glossary

Adrenaline / Adrenal Glands: Adrenaline is a hormone produced by the adrenal glands above the kidneys and is a part of the endocrine system. The hormone is released in potentially dangerous situations to promote an increased chance of survival. Adrenaline increases heart rate; dilates the eyes to see better, bronchioles in the lungs to increase oxygen input, and blood vessels in the muscles to strengthen them temporarily; increases glucose production for extra energy for necessary neuron cells; and constricts the blood vessels in the digestive tract to slow digestion. All of this is done to focus the host’s resources on surviving as long as possible.

Aerosol Chemical Detection: When liquid droplets, of fine solid particles, become suspended in air or another gas, this aerial solution is called an aerosol, and the process of becoming an aerosol is called becoming aerosolized. Examples include contagions within exhalations/coughs/sneezes, fog, mist, dust, etc. There are ways to detect what chemicals are in the air, such as with air quality monitoring devices.

Anisakid Nematode: Also known as “herring worm,” this is a parasite, typically found infesting the walls of a patient’s esophagus, stomach, or intestine, typically derived by consuming raw or undercooked fish or squid.

Ankle-Biters: A Progen-created immune cell that is a combination of a Natural Killer and a virion of the Insidious Virus.

Aorta: The largest artery in the human body, from the heart to the abdomen.

Apoptosis: Apoptosis is cell death, as a natural part of the growth and development of an organism, or potentially induced.

Appendage: Synonym for limb (arm or leg)

Appendicular Artery: This is the blood vessel that brings blood to the appendix.

Appendix: The appendix in humans is a mostly inactive organ attached to the large intestine, originally acting as a storage unit for raw meat, among other functions. It has recently been found to be an important potential repository for a reservoir of immune cells.

Arcanaphils: Arcanaphils (Magic Sniffers or Magic Amplifiers) help to locate and highlight areas of foreign magical energy within the body. Also helps with amplifying the body's innate mana for use in various applications

Ascorbic Acid(s): Chemical name for the water-soluble Vitamin C, found in various foods, such as citrus fruits, which has detoxifying, antioxidant, and immune system support functions, as well as helping to form collagen and to prevent scurvy.

Auditory Cortex: This is a part of the brain that helps with hearing, and with analyzing what one hears, in terms of time, frequency, language comprehension and speech. It is located bilaterally at the upper sides of the temporal lobes.

Auditory Nerve: The 8th cranial nerve, also known as the auditory nerve, has 2 branches. One is the cochlear nerve, which takes information about sound received in the cochlea and transmits it. The other is the vestibular nerve, which assists with balance.

Auditory Senses: Auditory senses refer to the ability to hear and to detect the vibrations of sound waves. Receptors for auditory senses are located in the inner ear, and assist someone to discern volume, distance, location of sounds.

B cells (“Spawners”): B Cells are producers of antibodies, which target specific pathogens through the use of proteins. These antibodies are smaller cells that can surround and swarm invading pathogens, taking down larger targets with greater numbers. They are known to use IgE protein, which causes the production of histamines. An overproduction of histamines causes inflammation, and is one of the main parts of nasal allergy congestion.

Bacteria (singular: Bacterium; adjective: Bacterial): Bacteria are single-celled organisms, only a few micrometers in size, that abound at an uncountable level and which are found in clusters of millions, on and within the human body, among other places. Some bacteria can be harmful to human health, while others, such as in the gut, are essential for human health.

Basher: A custom cell creation primarily made from keratin strands to make it harder and more durable. An extension of the cell is sharpened to cut through other cells.

Basophils (“Informers”): Basophils are a type of white blood cell, part of the immune communication system. When an immune response includes inflammation, it is because of basophils. They can also bring about mild or serious allergic reactions.

Biceps Brachii: This is a primary muscle of the upper arm, with 2 heads: one acting upon the shoulder joint, and one acting upon the elbow joint.

Blood: Blood is a liquid in varying shades of red that courses through the human body. This liquid contains a combination of plasma, red blood cells, platelets, and white blood cells.

Blood-Brain Barrier: This border, comprised of endothelial cells, which is semi-permeable (some stuff can flow through it), yet highly selective (only very specific stuff can flow through it), has the goal of maintaining segregation between solutes in the bloodstream (stuff dissolved in blood) and the central nervous system’s extracellular fluid (where neurons are found).

Blood Circulation Within the Bloodstream: It takes about 45 seconds for red blood cells to circulate through the body once, through an intricate system of blood vessels of various types and sizes. One might compare this time to holding one’s breath, as one’s red blood cells will acquire carbon dioxide during this time.

Blood Pressure: This is a measure of how one’s body is circulating blood. It is most often measured at the upper arm or the wrist. It is conveyed as a fraction. The top number, the numerator, is the systolic pressure. That is the amount of pressure in your arteries when your heart muscle contracts. The bottom number, the denominator, is the diastolic pressure. That is the amount of pressure in your arteries when your heart is between beats. Both these numbers are measured in mmHg, which stands for millimeters of mercury. Normal blood pressure is about 120/80. High blood pressure is about 140/90.

Blood Vessel(s): These are the tubes that connect the circulatory system to all major parts of the body. Arteries, veins, and capillaries are examples of blood vessels.

Bloody Horned Skulls: A cluster of red blood cells corrupted by foul magic, held together by an extracellular matrix.

Bone Tissue: 4 types of cells make up bone tissue: osteoblasts, bone-lining cells, osteocytes, and osteoclasts. Bone itself is basically mineralized connective tissue.

Brachialis: This muscle in the upper arm helps flex the elbow.

Brain: The brain is the hub of conscious and unconscious thoughts. It is made of countless billions of neurons linked together like a root system, with 4 major sections, each specializing in certain bodily functions.

Brain Damage: Brain damage is destruction or deterioration of brain cells, such as within tissues or nerves. Traumatic injury to the head, such as from violence, sports, car accidents, etc., can result in damage to the tissue, fluids, or nerves of the brain. Strokes, tumors, and illnesses are additional causes.

Brain Stem: The part of the brain that connects the cerebrum and the spinal cord.

Buccal Mucosa: This is the inner lining of the cheek.

Cadaverine: This is a foul-smelling chemical caused when animal tissue is putrefied (rots, decays).

Cancer Cell: Cancer cells are normal cells that have lost the ability to self regulate growth. As a result, they multiply and spread in an area and trick the body into feeding it. At its worst stage, cancer spreads out from its original area through the body to take up residence elsewhere.

-Cancer can result from injury, old age, and radiation, causing damage to the DNA.

-Cancer can begin at any age, in any part of the body, at any time. However, the immune system can usually kill cancer before it becomes a problem.

Capillaries: As blood is sent away from the heart, it is pumped into smaller sections of the body, and thus, into smaller blood vessels. The smallest vessels, known as capillaries, are only large enough to accommodate one cell at a time.

Carbohydrates: These are sugar molecules in food, which the body digests into glucose to become bioavailable (ready to be used by cells).

Cationic Protein (Eosinophil cationic protein): When eosinophils become degranulated, this is one of the molecules released. Degranulation is a cell process whereby a cell releases a cytotoxin (a substance that can kill other cells) to kill microbes.

Cecum: Essentially the start of the large intestine.

Cell(s): All known living organisms have cells as their building blocks. Within living organisms, cells are the smallest living structure. Organisms can be made of multiple cells or just one cell. Bacteria are among the single-celled, or unicellular, organisms.

Cell Body (bodies) / Nucleus (Nuclei) / Cell Masses: A cell body is the concentrated part of a cell, containing its nucleus (plural: nuclei) and cytoplasm. In a neuron, or nerve cell, it is also called a soma. The brain of the cell.

Chemical Communication / Neural Communication: Cells pass each other messages, by electrochemical means, through neurotransmitters, as conveyed by dendritic cells or nerve cells. The body is a very complicated system of on-off triggers, metaphorically speaking.

Chitin(ous). Chitin is what makes up the cell walls of fungal cells, and also, the exoskeletons of arthropods (insects, crustaceans, arachnids, and myriapods). Chitinous means made of chitin. The material itself is fibrous and made out of polysaccharides.

Chloroform: This is an organic compound that is a clear, dense, foul-smelling liquid that is used in refrigeration, but is also a “knock-out drug” when applied to nose and mouth.

Circulatory System: The circulatory system is quite extensive. It travels through every part of the body, where the blood vessels bring much-needed nutrients to the cells of the body, taking waste away from those areas at the same time. As such, it is one of the largest and most important systems in the body.

It is responsible for gas exchange, heat distribution, waste extraction, nutrient delivery, and other functions.

“Cleaners”: Macrophages.

Coagulation (noun; to coagulate, verb): This is a synonym for the process of forming a clot (noun), aka clotting (verb), engaged by changing blood from a liquid to a gel. When clotting is a beneficial process, it is to attenuate (stop the flow of) hemorrhaging (excessive blood loss), to cause hemostasis (ending blood loss from a damaged vessel).

“Commanders”: Helper T cells.

Compression: Joint cartilage alternates between being in a state of compression or decompression. Compression is being pushed/pressed together, while decompression is being relaxed.

Contractility (of muscle tissue): This is the aspect of muscle tissue that allows it to forcibly shorten (contract).

Contusion(s): A hematoma is when blood is present outside of a blood vessel. A contusion is when that hematoma was caused by leakage from an injured capillary or other blood vessel. It’s a fancier term for a bruise. A colloquial term for this might be “a black-and-blue mark”.

Cornea: The part of the eye that covers the front of the eye and is transparent. It refracts (bends) light.

Cortisol: Cortisol is a steroid hormone naturally produced by the body. It is involved in regulating immune responses, metabolism, and responses to stress, often referred to as “fight or flight”.

Cranial: Regarding the cranium; i.e., the skull, particularly as encompasses the brain.

Cyanide: A poison.

Decomposition: Decomposition is breaking down dead or decaying organic matter into smaller components, to facilitate reuse thereof by something else.

Dehydration / Malnutrition (Being Dehydrated / Being Malnourished): Dehydration is a state of depletion that occurs if a living organism loses more fluids than it replenishes, or cannot maintain the benefits of the fluids taken in because of issues in processing. Malnutrition is a state of depletion that occurs if a living organism loses more nutrients than it replenishes, or enters a state of starvation, either by deprivation or by inability to access, absorb, or retain the beneficial portions of the nutrients.

-A human can survive 3 days without water, and about 2 weeks without food (variable depending on body weight and composition).

-The human body will devour itself in this order: sugars, fats, muscle. Humans die upon reaching the muscle phase, as even the heart is cannibalized.

Deltoid: This is a muscle in the shoulder. It is referred to as deltoid because it is triangular, like the letter Delta.

Dendritic cells (“Reporters”): Dendritic cells are immune cells that coordinate chemical communication from the frontlines to the backlines, and between them; which is to say, between the adaptive immune cells (the ones that are developed and retained to fight specific pathogens at the time of infection) and the innate immune cells (the ones that are there before an infection occurs). They can also activate other immune cells, making them stronger, though they themselves do not attack pathogens.

Dermis (Adjectives: Dermal, Sub-Dermal for beneath the dermis): Layer of skin which contains all of the nerve endings, as well as the sweat and hair follicle ducts that extended to the surface;

Diaphragm: The structure between the thoracic (chest) and abdominal cavities in humans and other mammals, consisting of muscles and membranes, and shaped like a dome.

Digestive System / Digestive Organs: The digestive system is an elaborate set of interacting organs that collaborate to take nutrients in, break them down so cells can use them, and expel the waste products of this process from the body. This system is also the home of beneficial bacteria, the microbiome.

Distended: This is an adjective describing the state of being bloated, i.e., stretched or swollen, from pressure or fluid built up inside.

Dopamine: A neurotransmitter (chemical messenger) in the brain connected to experience of pleasure.

Duodenum: This is the area of the small intestine between the stomach and the jejunum.

Elasticity (of muscle tissue): This is the property of muscle tissue being able to return to its original state after movement.

Electrical Impulses: These are the action potentials that human brain cells utilize to communicate with one another. The impulses are released when a neuron is stimulated. The impulses travel along the neuron axon.

Endocrine System: The endocrine system is an elaborate set of interacting glands and organs that collaborate to produce, secrete, and regulate hormones, which themselves control some of the functioning of some cells, organs, and tissues.

Endoneurial Fluid: This low-protein liquid prevents most molecules from passing through the layers of connective tissue around a nerve bundle to the nerve strands inside. It is similar to the blood-brain barrier in that regard.

Endoneurium: A type of connective tissue that surrounds individual nerve fibers in a nerve bundle.

Enteric Nerves: The enteric nerves are nerves that govern the digestive (gastrointestinal) tract. The enteric nervous system is also known as the intrinsic nervous system.

Eosinophils (“Hunters”): Eosinophils are a rarer type of white blood cell, making up 2% of immune cells. They specialize in locating and destroying parasitic organisms within the body, as well as in mediating inflammation. Eosinophils also release poisonous granules full of peroxidase, neurotoxin, cationic protein, and other major basic protein molecules. Prolonged exposure to these poisonous molecules result in parasitic death.

Epidermis: The final layer of the skin at the surface.

Epineurium: Connective tissue surrounding an entire nerve bundle.

Epithelial Cells: The surfaces of the human body, such as skin, blood vessels, the urinary tract, and organs, are lined with epithelial cells. Because they are surface cells, they can be thought of as a first line of defense or contact with external stimuli.

Esophagus: This is the tube, made of muscle and lined with mucus, that connects that throat and the stomach, and is used for digestion.

Excitability (of muscle tissue): When a motor neuron or a hormone stimulates a muscle, excitability is the property describing the muscle’s ability to respond to that stimulus.

Excretory system: The set of organs that collectively filter waste products out of the body. This includes the kidneys, the liver, the sweat glands, and the lungs.

Extensibility (of muscle tissue): This is the extent to which a muscle may be stretched.

Facial Nerve / Facial Nervous Cells: The cells of the 7th cranial nerve control the muscles involved in facial expressions and conveyance of taste. It starts at the pons of the brainstem.

Fatty Acids: These are the molecules that combine to make both that fat we eat and the fat in our bodies. When three such molecules combine, that’s what a triglyceride is.

Fiber (Dietary): This component of nutrition consists of the portions of plants which human bodies are not able to fully digest. Nicknames for it are “roughage” and “bulk”. It comes in 2 types: soluble and insoluble. Soluble fiber attracts water, turns into gel, and slows digestion, to aid absorption of nutrients. Insoluble fiber bulks up stool and helps it pass more quickly.

Fibrin Net: A fibrin net is the first stage of repairing external or externally generated wounds. When blood clots, the coagulation at the site of the wound produces threads of this fibrin. A bundle of those threads is a fibrin net.

Flagella (singular: Flagellum): Flagella are tendrils that help bacteria move rapidly. They move in a fan-like fashion. One singular thereof is a flagellum.

Flatworm: This is the descriptive term for the phylum of Platyhelminthes, a simple, soft invertebrate. Of all animals that don’t have body cavities, this is the largest phylum (the second-highest-level grouping after Kingdom: Remember “King Philip cried, “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Victoria!” -- Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species, Variety. Believe it or not, there are 25,000 known species in this phylum!

Follicles (Hair): Located all over the body; made of dead cells; an organ of the skin in mammals.

Ganglion (plural: Ganglia): Nerve cell bodies linked by synapses form a structure that can produce a swelling on a nerve fiber.

Ghrelin: A hormone in the gastrointestinal tract that increases hunger.

Glossopharyngeal Nerve: The 9th cranial nerve carries two types of information from the brainstem, both the afferent (sensory) and efferent (motor) types of information.

Glucose: The basic nutrient required by cells to live, glucose is a basic form of sugar, and is used in cellular respiration alongside oxygen to produce carbon dioxide and water.

Glucosinolates: Brassicas are a family of vegetables, with such cultivars as broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, kale, bok choy, mustard greens, and so forth. They are also known as cruciferous vegetables, because their leaves characteristically form a cross shape. The thing that gives them their pungent taste and aroma is that they have sulfur-containing components. Those components are glucosinolates.

Granules: A teensy little particle of a thing. Like a singular granule of sugar.

Growth Hormone: Secreted by the pituitary gland, this hormone stimulates growth.

Gustatory System: The gustatory system is the mechanism whereby one experience taste, and it consists of the gustatory complex, multiple cranial nerves, and the receptors in the mouth for the 5 taste sensations: sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and savoriness (aka umami).

Helper T cells (“Commanders”): These cells have a guiding role in immune response. They use chemicals to trigger immune cell aggregation to specific sites. Helper T Cells are key members of the immune system, playing a central role from the back line of defenders. They are the ones that trigger and organize immune responses to specific infection sites in the body.

Hemostasis: The stopping of the flow of blood.

“Historians”: Memory B cells.

Hormones: These are the molecules that the endocrine system produces to send messages throughout the body to regulate body processes and systems.

“Hunters”: Eosinophils.

Hunter Crab: An amalgamation of immune cells that looks like a large crab, which Progen created by absorbing life-threatening amounts of mana from Marstin. It is an advanced-stage Eosinophil immune cell.

Hyperosmia: Hyperosmia is a condition of the body in which the sense of smell becomes greater in ability than compared to normal circumstances. In some situations, hyperosmia is a direct result of illness related to the nervous system or the digestive system, and it is often a sign of an impending health disaster or trouble.

Hypothalamus: A portion of the brain which regulates the sleep-wake cycle, among many other bodily processes, such as appetite and emotional responses.

Ileum: The third portion of the small intestine contributes to digestion by being a site for removal of nutrients and water from food to be utilized by the body.

Immune Response / Immune System: The human body has an elaborate set of systems to try to detect, identify, prevent entry of, contain, eliminate, expel, or respond to invading organisms. When the body detects or suspects a foreign invader, it triggers those steps, and that is called an immune response. The cells that conduct that response, and that track what they remember from previous responses, are cornerstones of the immune system, along with the lymphatic system, the spleen, the thymus, and bone marrow.

Indole: This compound, produced by the activity of bacteria, is among the sources of odor of feces.

“Informers”: Basophils.

Integumentary System: skin, hair, and nails. The skin is the body’s largest organ, at least externally; it certainly is the largest in terms of surface area. There are many layers to it.

Intercostal Nerves: 22 nerves (11 on each side of the body) between ribs.

Interdigital Nerves: These flow under and between the metatarsals of the foot to innervate the toes.

Interneurons: The interneurons are the processing cells of the nervous system. They relay communications between motor or sensory neurons and the brain, and they are instrumental in such things as reflexes.

Intestines (Small, Large): The small intestine and the large intestine are both part of the gut and the gastrointestinal tract. They process food for absorption of nutrients and preparation of wastes for exiting the body. The small intestine has 3 parts: the duodenum, the jejunum, and the ileum. The large intestine is also known as the colon or the large bowel. The colon is where water is absorbed from wastes, preparing solid waste to exit the rectum.

Jejunum: This is the middle section of the small intestine, between the duodenum and the ileum.

Kidneys: Kidneys are essential organs involved in the filtration of blood. The circulation system refreshes blood through the kidneys multiple times a day. Specifically what they filter for is removing waste while maintaining homeostasis of fluid balance and electrolytes.

“Killer T cells”: Lymphoblasts.

Ligament Connective Tissue: Connects bone tissues to muscle tissues.

Liver: An organ part of the digestive system, and the largest internal organ. It is responsible for breaking down toxins, creating certain proteins, and manufacturing chemicals to break down food. It also assists in the decomposition of red blood cells and produces certain hormones.

Lower Thoracolumbar Fascia Muscle: A muscle on the right side of the protagonist’s lower back.

Lymphatic System / Lymphatic Tissue: Lymph is a fluid full of types of white blood cells that fight infection. Lymphatic means involving lymph. The network of organs and tissues (lymphatic tissue) through which the lymph flows, in order to help the body get rid of toxins and waste products, is called the lymphatic system. There are channels throughout the body, much like the circulatory system for blood. Lymph nodes are small glands that filter lymph. When infections and/or tumors are present in the body, the lymph nodes swell.

Lymphoblasts (Killer T cells): The lymphoblasts are the last line of immune defense. At this stage, deployment of them can lead to damage of the body as a last resort in order to eliminate the pathogen.

Lymphoid Progenitor: A base immune cell involved in the creation of all other immune cells. It is what creates B Cells, Memory B Cells, Regulatory T Cells, Naïve T Cells, Memory T Cells, and NK (Natural Killer) Cells.

Macrophages / Monocytes (“Cleaners”): The largest of the cells, these become monocytes outside the blood vessel (literally the same cell, like lava and magma). They clean up dead invaders, inform the T-cells about what pathogen the body is facing, and are the second phase of immune response. Their form of clean-up is as phagocytes: They bind with and engulf antigens. They see an invader, attach themselves to it, wrap themselves around it, and destroy it that way. It sort of reminds one of a Pac-Man eating a dot.

Magic Sniffers or Magic Amplifiers: Arcanaphils.

Masseter Muscle: One of the four muscles that are responsible for the chewing motion of the jaw.

Mechanoreceptors: Touch and sound are considered forms of mechanical stimuli. The sense organs and cells that respond to mechanical stimuli are called mechanoreceptors.

Median Nerve: Colloquially referred to as “the laborer’s nerve,” this is the primary nerve in the front of the forearms, which controls the movements of the hands.

Mega Newt: Among Progen’s creations, while a regular Newt was basically a spheroid shape with a trio of nuclei connected together in the center, this Mega Newt center had a hollow, a void that created a strange little pocket inside of the cell. It also had three separate sets of nuclei, spaced out so that they were separate from each other.

Memory B Cells (“Historians”): Memory B Cells record data on different pathogens, for use in assisting other immune cells in the production of antibodies.

Memory T Cells (“Veteran Killers”): Memory T cells are T cells changed in order to counter an old enemy. They “remember” how to fight it.

Mercury: Mercury is an element which is known to be a carcinogen when present too much in fish from pollution in the water, and which is used in thermometers and barometers.

Muscle Tissue / Muscle Decline / Muscle Degradation / Muscle Strands / Musculature System: Muscle tissue is responsible for every physical movement made in the body, and is the second-strongest type of tissue, after bone. It is made up of thousands of individual strands connecting bones and flesh. If the muscles are not sufficiently exercised, and/or if the body is not sufficiently nourished, muscles can begin to decline in strength and size, which is muscle degradation.

Muscone: A compound typically found in animals that are considered prey, it is the primary source of musty odor, and it can be matched by moisture-rich odors caused by an excessively oily and malnourished predator.

Myeloid Progenitor: A base immune cell involved in the creation of many other immune cells. The Myeloid Progenitor can eventually turn into Neutrophils, Eosinophils, Dendritic cells, and even Macrophages.

Myenteric Plexus: The myenteric plexus receives input from the autonomic nervous system that it translates into fomenting the peristaltic movement in the bowels. It is the main source of nerve input to the gastrointestinal tract and controls its motility (ability to move independently).

Naïve T cells (Novice Killers): Naïve T cells are newborn, potentially powerful T cells in the bone marrow. They have never fought an antigen/pathogen before.Therefore they are relatively ineffective until they are activated with a specific type of antibody.

Nasolacrimal Duct(s): Informally known as the “tear duct(s),” it is through the nasolacrimal duct(s) that tears are carried from the eyes downwards and backwards into the nasal cavity.

Natural Killer T Cells (Mutant Killers): Cancer hunter cells. Activated by laughter, weakened by stress (more than usual; all immune systems suffer when stressed).

Nausea: Queasiness; discomfort in the stomach; a feeling of wanting to vomit or being on the verge of vomiting; may include some reflux.

Negatively Charged Ions: When an atom or molecule has a net electrical charge, it is an ion. When the net charge is positive, it is a cation. When the net charge is negative, it is an anion. What makes something an anion, a negatively charged ion, is having more electrons than protons.

Neurohormones: When neuroendocrine cells produce hormones and release them into the blood, those released hormones are called neurohormones. They are chemical messengers that the blood carries to other parts of the body.

Neurons: At the most fundamental level, neurons are the unit at which work begins in the brain. Consisting of an axon, a cell body, and dendrites, neurons are the portion of the nervous system that conduit information to muscles, glands, or nerve cells.

Neuropeptides: Neurons create these small proteins, which modulate (set the pace and direction of) synaptic transmission (the way neurons talk to cells across neuronal junctions).

Neutrophils (Newts): The Neutrophil Cell is the most common immune cell, and therefore the weakest variety. They are the first responders to an invasion, and they can easily transmigrate through blood vessels to congregate anywhere in the body.

Nerve Cells: A nerve cell is part of the nervous system, originating in the brain. Nerve cells are responsible for carrying out both voluntary and involuntary orders from the brain or spinal cord, and they can store limited information outside the brain.

Nerve Ends: We each have millions of these points, the terminations of nerves, at the surface of the body and inside it, where we experience sensations.

Nervous System: A nerve cell is part of the nervous system, originating in the brain. Nerve cells are responsible for carrying out both voluntary and involuntary orders from the brain or spinal cord, and they can store limited information outside the brain. There are three types: sensory cells (receivers); motor cells (relays); and interneurons (processors). The body is primarily controlled by interneurons, whose responsibilities include the storage of active and inactive memory.

Neural Network / Neuron Cell: The neural network of the human body is its means of internal communication. It basically has 3 parts. The receptors receive external stimuli. The core neurons receive the communication from the receptors, rendered as electrical impulses. The neural network is the processing core that transmutes the impulses into decisions about output. The effectors receive those messages and translate them into instructions as to how to relate to the outside environment. The neural network itself is built of neurons. Neurons each have a dendrite, a soma, and an axon.

Neurotoxin: A type of toxin that targets the nervous system. Common examples include lead, ethanol, botulism, tetanus, etc. They have the ability to compromise the development of nerve tissue or to affect already mature nerve tissue.

“Newts”: Neutrophil cells.

Norepinephrine: A stress hormone and a neurotransmitter.

“Novice Killer Cells”: Naïve T cells.

Nutrients/ Nutrient Absorption: Substances that when ingested/imbibed may provide nourishment are nutrients. For the body to benefit from the introduction of the nutrients, it must be able to adequately absorb the nourishment.

Oblique muscles: Large, external, flat abdominal muscles.

Ocular Cavity: This is the orbit, the skeletal structure around the eye, part of the ocular cranial nerve, etc., and it consists of 7 bones.

Ocular Nerve/ Optic Nerve: The paired portions of the ocular nerve, cranial nerve II, conduit visual input from the retina to the brain.

Olfactory Nerves: The first ocular nerve, and the shortest, the olfactory nerve transmits scent information to the forebrain, that it receives from the mucosa in the nose.

Omega-3 Fatty Acids, Lutein, and Vitamin A: Nutrients contributing to eyesight: the first to retina health, the latter 2 to cornea health.

Pain Receptors: A type of nerve cell receptor responsible for signaling pain to the brain, so as to warn of damage being done to the body.

Pancreas: This is an essential organ within the abdomen. It has 2 main roles: to help convert the food we eat into substances that can fuel our cells; and to regulate blood sugar.

Papillary: Relating to a papilla; a protuberance that is rounded that sticks out from an organ or a body part.

Parasite (noun) / Parasitic (adjective): A parasite is an organism that sustains itself by attaching itself to or immersing itself in another organism and draining that organism, feeding off it. The fact that it lives at the other organism’s expense is what constitutes the adjective, “parasitic”.

Pathogen(s) (noun) / Pathogenic (adjective): A pathogen is an infectious agent. There are 5 types of pathogenic organisms: viruses, bacteria, fungi, protozoa, and worms. (The worms are sometimes called helminths.)

“Parasyte”: The main physical antagonist for Progen, this is an enhanced Anisakid Nematode.

Pepsin Acid: In the digestive process, one of the things the stomach secretes (makes and sends out) is pepsinogen. Pepsinogen is an endopeptidase, which means that it is an enzyme (a catalyst substance) that can break down peptides (chains of amino acids, which are the building blocks of proteins). When this pepsinogen comes into contact with hydrochloric acid, another item the stomach secretes into gastric juice (the digestive mix of fluids), that mix forms pepsin acid.

Perineurium Sleeve: Fat cells associated with connective tissue.

Peripheral Nervous System: The peripheral nervous system consists of the nerves and ganglia outside of the central nervous system, which is composed of the brain and spinal cord. The peripheral nervous system is what allows the central nervous system to communicate with the other parts of the host’s body.

Peroneal Nerves: Movement and sensation in the lower legs, the feet, and the toes are innervated by the peroneal branch of the sciatic nerve. When something goes wrong with these nerves, that’s a common cause of peripheral neuropathy.

Peroxidase: This is a type of enzyme, in plants, in humans, and even in bacteria, that helps break down hydrogen peroxide, which is a byproduct of the respiration of oxygen.

Phenol: A fast-acting poison that will cause unconsciousness within seconds and will shut down the nervous system within minutes if allowed to spread.

Piloerection Reflex: The raising of the hairs along one’s body is called a piloerection reflex. It is the subconscious reaction to external stimuli, though it is usually precipitated by a release of adrenaline due to fear.

Pituitary Gland: The pituitary gland – despite its small size – is commonly considered the “master gland” when it comes to hormones in the body. It produces and secretes hormones that control many of the body’s vital organs, as well as the other glands in the endocrine system. From brain health, including minimizing pain through endorphins, to blood pressure maintained by the thyroid, and even reproductive system management and maturation, the pituitary gland has its hands in nearly every function in the body in some way.

Plasma: The clear liquid comprising about 55% of human blood, left after red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, etc., are removed.

Platelets: When a human body is bleeding, platelets are the tiny blood cells that ride to the rescue, to clot the blood and repair the damaged blood vessel. Think of them as the first responders to the emergency of hemorrhaging. They do their rescue work in 3 ways. They spread out little tentacles over the injured part of the blood vessel to stick to each other. This is called adhesion. They ring the bell, so to speak, to summon other platelets to the area. And then they pile themselves into the clot, in a process called cell aggregation.

Potassium: This mineral and electrolyte is essential for the functioning of muscles -- including those which regulate heartbeat and breathing.

Proprioceptor(s): A proprioceptor is the type of sense receptor that helps interpret stimuli related to movement and balance, and one’s location within one’s physical space.

Protein(s): Protein is one of the 3 macronutrients of which nutrition is composed and which nutrition requires, alongside fats and carbohydrates. Proteins are found not only in animal products, but also in nuts, legumes, and other non-animal sources.

Pus: Infected tissues produce this liquid, full of dead white blood cells, bacteria, tissue debris, and serum. This liquid is often white or yellow, but could have a tinge of pink or green.

Putrescine: When amino acids break down in the cadavers of formerly living beings, multiple foul-smelling chemicals, toxic in large doses, are produced, and this is one of them.

Radial Artery: The artery that travels to the hand on the radial (inner) side. Often used to measure a person’s pulse.

“Reactive Flush”: This is a trap of sorts that Progen creates. Deploying his mana into this operation causes an abrupt wave of nearby fluid to flow backwards, forcibly relocating whatever gets caught up in the wave.

Red Blood Cells: Red blood cells are the main component of blood, playing an important role in: air circulation throughout the human body; heat distribution throughout the body; transportation of crucial elements throughout the body, including nutrients,chemicals, waste, and immune cells; and healing of the body.

“Regulators”: Regulatory T cells.

Regulatory T cells (“Regulators”): These ensure all immune cells are not targeting normal body cells. Can malfunction with cancer, preventing attacks.

REM Sleep: ‘Rapid Eye Movement’ sleep is a part of the sleep cycle, denoted by the rapid movement of the eye. This is the portion of the sleep cycle during which dreaming most often occurs, and it is the shortest cycle, as well. In this state of sleep, the body locks up (as if trapped in its own delusions).

-REM sleep is the state required to ensure a good rest is achieved. The shorter the REM cycle, the more fatigued one can feel upon waking.

Replication (of cells): Cells within the human body undergo replication through either Mitosis or Meiosis.

-Mitosis is the process of a cell replicating itself and separating out into 2 similar cells.

-Meiosis is reserved only for reproductive cells and involves a single cell becoming 4 variable cells.

“Reporters”: Dendritic cells.

Reproductive system: The set of organs involved in producing or maintaining the processes and products that can bring forth another being of the given species. These organs vary by chromosomal sex (of which there are more variants than just XY and XX, such as intersexed individuals).

Resonance: When sound is reflected from a surface, and/or it synchronizes its vibration with a neighboring sound, that can prolong the sound and make it reverberate. That’s the state of having resonance.

Respiratory System: The respiratory system is responsible for taking in oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide; this process is primarily done through the lungs, though there are different components that work in tandem with these organs. Oxygen is an important part of normal cell health and functionality, while the carbon dioxide is a waste product of that cellular function. Any significant disruption or termination of the respiratory system can have severe consequences, including the death of the body within minutes.

Reticular: Having a structure like a fine network or like a net.

Retina: The retina is the light-sensitive layer of tissue within the eye that holds the ocular nerves, which serve to create the initial image of the outside world, before translating that image into electric impulses to send to the brain for deciphering.

Rigidity (of bone tissue): Rigidity is the quality of not being able to be forced to change shape, position, angle, become bent, etc. Rigidity in terms of bone tissue is wrought by mineralization, the binding of the inorganic mineral salt, calcium phosphate, into calcium hydroxylapatite.

Seizure: An uncontrolled burst of electrical activity among neurons, which could result in anything from spacing out to convulsing and could be caused by chronic conditions or acute crises.

Skatole: The compound that gives feces (poop) its distinct odor. Ironically, in low concentrations it smells of flowers and is found in them, such as in orange blossoms. It is often used in the making of aromatic oils.

Skeletal System: The system of bones within the human body. It is responsible for maintaining shape, supporting and protecting the inner organs, serving as anchor points of muscles, and producing blood and all of its components.

Sodium Bicarbonate: Common name: baking soda. It is produced by the stomach to help control the level of acidity in both the stomach and blood.

Somatosensory System / Somatosensory Nerves: Encompasses all of the nerves related to the sense of touch throughout the body.

Spinal Cord / Spinal Nerves / Central Nervous System: The central nervous system consists of the brain and the spinal cord. The spinal cord is a bunch of fibers and tissues, bundled in a cylindrical shape, that is inside the spine, and through which the brain and the rest of the body connect.

“Spawners”: B cells.

Stem Cell: A stem cell is the originator of all cells. It is the most basic type, capable of transforming into any kind of cell, depending on what is required. Original stem cells exist at conception and form the embryo. From then on, lesser stem cells are formed within the bone marrow to become red blood cells, platelets, immune cells, etc.

Stomach Acid: Also known as gastric juice, this is the mix of liquids that one’s body uses for digestion, especially of proteins, and its primary ingredient is the hydrochloric acid produced by one’s parietal cells (which line the stomach) and one’s gastric glands.

Subcutaneous tissue: The subcutaneous tissue was first, just above the muscle underneath that layer. Inside that layer were the majority of the blood vessels from the circulatory system, along with the main nerve pathways from the nervous system.

Submucosal: The layer of tissue underneath the mucosa layer. Found in the organs of the gastrointestinal, respiratory, and genitourinary systems. Blood vessels, lymph vessels, and nerves run through this layer.

Superficial Palmar Arch: A major blood vessel that passes through the upper palm of the hand in an arch-like pathway.

Supra-Orbital Artery: The artery that splits from the eye to provide blood to the forehead.

Supraspinatus: One of the four rotator cuff muscles that connect the shoulder to the scapula.

Supratrochlear Vein: The vain that splits and covers most of the face.

Syncope: Fainting. Fainting is caused by a sudden loss of blood pressure, resulting in the brain becoming starved for oxygen.

System: Amalgamation of structures that work in unison or tandem wherein the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Examples include: digestive, respiratory, immune (lymphatic), digestive, gustatory, muscular, skeletal, and nervous systems.

Temporal Lobe: One of the four major sections in the brain. It is responsible for processing sensory information to derive meaning for the retention of visual memory, language comprehension, and emotional association.

Tendon: A collagen cordlike structure, attaching muscle to bone.

Testosterone: A steroid hormone that foments production of secondary sex characteristics in males, forged in the testes but also the adrenals and the ovaries.

Thalamus: A part of the brain located between the cerebral cortex and the midbrain sections. It is responsible for relaying sensory information (motor and receptors) and regulates consciousness, sleep and alertness.

Thermoreceptors: A type of receptor involved in the detection of heat. It is important to note these cells only work within normal levels of temperature. Nociceptors are responsible for detecting dangerous temperatures.

Tibialis Anterior: Located near the shin, this muscle allows the foot to dorsiflex (raise foot toward shin) and invert.

Trachea and Bronchial Tubes: The trachea, commonly referred to as the “Windpipe”, is the conduit of air that proceeds from the larynx (voice box) to behind the sternum (breast bone), in the form of a tube. The nasal passages, throat, and larynx receive air, and the trachea is its pathway to the bronchi/ bronchial tubes, which lead to the lungs.

Triceps Brachii: (Triceps) A muscle in the upper arm, the opposite muscle to the biceps. It connects the lower elbow to the shoulder, and is responsible for allowing the arm to extend out.

Uncanny Valley Effect: This is an odd sensation some humans experience when observing or interacting with a robot or form of artificial intelligence or other such item which resembles a human in aesthetic and/or in behavior, but clearly is not quite human.

-This phenomenon is not clearly defined at the scientific level and is still heavily debated.

Urinary Bladder: An abdominal organ which is hollow and is built for holding and storing urine.

Vagus Nerve: The vagus nerves are referred together as a singular nerve. It is the longest nerve of the autonomic nervous system and is composed of both sensory and motor nerves. It is responsible for directing the heart, lungs, and digestive track.

Vestibulocochlear Nerve (8th cranial nerve): The nerve that connects the brain to the part of the ear known as the Pons. It is responsible for transmitting auditory and equilibrium information to the brain.

“Veteran Killers”: Memory T Cells.

Villi: (singular: villus):Villi are small tendrils covering the inside of the small intestine. They are responsible for nutrient absorption.

Virion/Virus: A virion is a whole particle of a virus, consisting of a nucleic acid, meaning a strand of either RNA or DNA, within a capsid, meaning a shell made out of protein. Viruses replicate by invading a host cell and forcing the cell to create multiple copies of itself before being released and spread to other cells. The process occasionally destroys the host cell in this releasing process, though not always. Regardless, the host cell will continue producing virions until the host cell is destroyed.