Denizens of the Labyrinth

The gate opened before Jazmel with a shimmering hum, spilling out into a realm that felt vast and untouched. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and frost, mingled with the distant trickle of a brook. Towering mountains framed the horizon, their jagged peaks dusted with snow and glowing faintly in the pale sunlight. The expanse around him was a rugged tundra, dotted with hardy shrubs and patches of mossy ground. A cold breeze swept past him, ruffling his fur-collared jacket, and filling his lungs with a refreshing chill.

For the first time in weeks, Jazmel felt truly unburdened. The ever-present hum of Moxores' stronghold, the weight of leadership, and the constant press of responsibilities seemed a distant memory in this open, silent world. The solitude was a balm to his restless mind. Here, the sky stretched endlessly, a canvas of pale blues and whites, and the only sound was the whisper of the wind.

Paldane stirred faintly in his collar, the tiny dragon shifting in his sleep. Jazmel glanced down, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The dragon's miniature form, curled snugly against the fur lining of his jacket, was almost comical compared to its true, imposing size. Paldane's slow, rhythmic breaths warmed the nape of Jazmel's neck, a quiet reminder that, even in solitude, he wasn't entirely alone.

He stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. Each step felt lighter, freer, as though the land itself urged him to explore. The open gate shimmered behind him like a distant memory, and he allowed himself to embrace the moment fully.

For two weeks, he had been tethered to Moxores, managing crises, and navigating the unending demands of the faction. But now, here, in this silent wilderness, he was untamed, unbound. The freedom tasted sharp and exhilarating, and he revelled in it.

Jazmel's hand brushed the hilt of his blade as he moved, a familiar weight at his side. The vastness before him promised challenges and discoveries, and he felt his heart stir with anticipation. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the shimmering portal one last time, then turned his focus ahead. Whatever awaited him in this wild expanse, he was ready.

DING!

YOU HAVE ENTERED THE GATE: ANCELLON!

YOU HAVE ENTERED A GATE OF COMPLICATED CREATION!

CORRUPTION HAS AFFECTED THIS GATE

TO CLEANSE THE GATE YOU HAVE BEEN TASKED WITH ONE GOAL!

DEFEAT THE DOMAIN BOSS!

DEFEAT: MAUDSLEY THE MANIA, THE MADDENED KING!

…

Immediately Jazmel grit his teeth, he knew this was going to be a tough battle. Already he would be facing a domain boss. One of the stronger class bosses, but it was also named. Could be tier V or VI he thought to himself but not surprised. This was the sort of battle he needed; this was the sort of challenge he craved.

Ancellon, "the Castle of the Maddened King," rose like a broken crown on the horizon, its jagged silhouette framed by an overcast sky. The once-majestic fortress sprawled across a rocky precipice, overlooking a barren wasteland. Time and turmoil had not been kind to it; the walls were cracked and crumbling, with ivy and twisted vines clawing their way up the weathered stone. What remained of the once-proud towers leaned precariously, their spires shattered as if struck by some great and vengeful force.

The air around Ancellon was heavy, suffused with a strange mix of foreboding and faded grandeur. A faint, acrid wind whispered through the ruins, carrying the scent of damp stone and decay. The great gates, now rusted and warped, hung open on their hinges, creaking softly with every gust of wind. The remnants of intricate carvings depictions of battles, triumphs, and celestial beings were visible along the archway, though their details had eroded into vague, haunting impressions.

Inside, the castle bore the scars of chaos and abandonment. What had once been gleaming marble floors were now cracked and stained, strewn with rubble and shattered glass. Chandeliers, their crystals long gone, hung as skeletal remnants from ceilings adorned with faded frescoes of an era long past. The vast halls, designed to echo the footsteps of kings and courtiers, now amplified only the eerie whistle of the wind and the occasional distant drip of water.

Despite its ruin, the essence of what Ancellon once was clung stubbornly to the air, like the ghost of a melody. The grandeur of its construction spoke of a kingdom that had once thrived, a place of power and beauty. You could almost hear the faint strains of music from forgotten feasts, the distant murmurs of a bustling court, and the resounding cheers of knights returning victorious.

But over it all hung the oppressive weight of madness. It was as if the castle itself remembered the descent of its master the king who had spiralled into delusion, transforming his grand seat of power into a place of despair. The very stones seemed to weep for what had been lost, and the silence carried an undertone of anguish, as though Ancellon's walls bore witness to unspeakable horrors.

Now, it stood as a testament to both majesty and madness, a place where history whispered, and shadows lingered. Few dared to tread its halls, for the castle was not just a ruin it was a monument to the fragility of greatness and the enduring legacy of a king's fall into darkness.

As Jazmel stepped through the crumbling gateway of Ancellon, the air seemed to grow colder, thick with the oppressive weight of history and neglect. The broken stone arch loomed above him like a jagged maw, its once-grand carvings barely visible beneath the centuries of decay. The ground beneath his boots was uneven, littered with fragments of shattered stone and debris, as if the castle itself had been forced to endure decades of neglect and ruin.

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Beyond the arch, the outer courtyard stretched out in disarray. The remnants of statues, half-buried in the dirt, loomed like silent sentinels guarding a forgotten era. Where once there had been vibrant gardens and pathways, now there were only tangled, dead vines and overgrown weeds. The faint smell of rot lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of old, damp stone.

But what caught his attention immediately were the bodies scattered across the courtyard some recent, others long abandoned. Stiffened corpses lay motionless in the dirt, their eyes glazed and empty, their limbs contorted in unnatural positions. Their clothes were tattered, the remnants of armour rusted and broken. Most of the corpses appeared to have violently died sword wounds, gashes from claws, and the ravages of the environment had left their mark. Some had been stripped of their weapons, while others still clutched them in a final, desperate grip.

As Jazmel stepped closer, his eyes narrowed as he noted the decay of the older bodies, their flesh long since disintegrated into skeletal remains, but their presence was still unnervingly palpable. Time had not been kind, and yet, the faintest trace of blood still stained the ground beneath them, a gruesome reminder of the violence that had unfolded here.

Among the newer corpses, the stench of fresh death still clung to the air. A man in mismatched armour, his face frozen in a grimace of pain, lay sprawled near a broken pillar, his weapon a jagged, rusted sword discarded by his side. A few paces away, the body of a woman in a dark cloak was sprawled across the cobblestones, her chest pierced by an arrow. The shaft still protruded from her heart, a grim testament to the speed and precision of her killer.

Jazmel's gaze swept across the scene, his expression hardening. This place had not only been a seat of power it had been a battlefield, but a place also where countless lives had been lost in the name of a king's madness. It was clear now that whatever had befallen Ancellon had not been a single event, but rather a prolonged conflict one that had left this broken land littered with the forgotten dead.

He stepped forward, his senses alert, wary of any other presence. The wind howled through the empty courtyard, stirring the bones and the broken stone, adding an eerie echo to the desolation that surrounded him. The silence was broken only by the occasional distant clang of a falling rock or the creak of the castle's decaying structure.

Jazmel's grip tightened on his sword, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of life or something more dangerous. This place was cursed, that much was certain. Yet, amidst the madness, there was something that called to him something he needed to uncover. The broken, bloody history of Ancellon seemed to whisper, urging him forward.

"The madness is rife in this domain. It hangs in the air." Paldane uttered and Jazmel notices for the first time, he is awakened. But also because he doesn't smell anything.

"You wouldn't be able to. Dragons use their sense of smell for more than just scent. Emotions too, madness is a sort of emotion." Paldane explained.

Jazmel conceded to his thought process, after all. he was a dragon, even if he was in his tiny form. No bigger than a lizard in Jazmel's neckline.

"The flesh here is riddled with it." Paldane says with disdain and Jazmel nods. Seeing the sense in that.

As he pulled his sword, free. He realised he had strolled into the outer courtyard without safety. His sword came free from the scabbard, Yoru No Tsubasa had become his favoured sword. the flickering blue flame inside the blade seemed the more powerful. Just as he did, a man rushed from somewhere deeper into the castle. He saw Jazmel and throwing his head back in a scream, he roared with anguish.

He was a seeker, or he once had been. His clothes were ripped and torn, shoddy. Jazmel could tell he had lost his mind.

Flaming evisceration!

Flames burst and struck the man, to Jazmel's worry. The man didn't even try to fight him, he simply ran through the burning swathe towards Jazmel. He through and was burned to a crisp.

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER!

EXP ACCRUED!

…

That was odd, he hadn't even received a stat. Maybe the mental state was affecting the system. But he didn't stop or worry. He moved forward, rushing further into the outer courtyard. There was nothing hopeful about the setting. There was a dissonance in the air, that bothered him. It felt like a ringing in the air, in his ears and he did his best to filter it out.

Push in. the maddening in the air will affect you, but you have to block it out. Paldane fed into his mind and Jazmel anchored it to his objective.

Jazmel ran full throttle into the inner courtyard. The next one was serious too, it was filled with maddened humans. They saw Jazmel and in a symphony of psychosis, they screeched rushing him. There was a flicker of worry in his heart as he cut them down. Saddened to see so many lives broken down.

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER!

EXP ACCRUED!

…

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER!

EXP ACCRUED!

…

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER!

EXP ACCRUED!

…

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER!

EXP ACCRUED!

…

DING!

X13 MADDENED RANKER TIER SEEKER KILLED!

+10 STR

+10 STAT POINTS

…

They fell around him, bodies like leaves in autumn. He kept moving forward, not taking any chance to look back.

No cries this time, he simply felt the change in the air. The aura of energy, the power pressure all fluxed around him, and he shuddered, there was a powerful being here. at first he thought it had been the king, but to his surprise it wasn't. It was another seeker, a master tier.

He stepped forward, and the master cocked his head to look at Jazmel. His eyes were glazed but he tried to focus on Jazmel.

"The ringing. I can't stop the ringing." He half whispered and spoke, but Jazmel could tell he would succumb.

He didn't scream like the others, but lost to the madness, he rushed Jazmel a jagged dagger appearing in his hand. Jazmel side stepped him but as he sauntered by, the other master slashed across his body and his face. Jazmel dodged both strikes, backing away and not having the heart to raise his sword. but Paldane roared in his mind.

End it. Stop hesitating! Jazmel almost shocked, but Paldane was right. Jazmel skipped forward, his sword flashed and without a moment. The other master seeker barely functioned; he was barely fighting Jazmel. It was like flashes of anger and madness wrapped up and Jazmel could end it at any moment.

He struck, his sword taking the man's arm. He took off his head next.

DING!

YOU KILLED

MADDENED MASTER TIER SEEKER!

EXP GREATLY ACCRUED!

LEVEL UP!

…