Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 53 - The darkest dungeon - Part Two

Watching the living statue slowly draw closer, I hissed in irritation at the reminder that our plan essentially boiled down to hitting it until it stopped moving. The living statue was too dangerous for Humans and Kobolds to fight directly, and the Boarmen were still too much of an unknown to risk as my support in melee.

Ushu was incredibly keen on a rematch. However, the limited effectiveness of his attacks during the first confrontation gave me little confidence in how helpful he would prove to be the second time around.

All the same, I needed someone to buy time for me to close into melee with the living statue. With Summoned Daemons providing distractions, Ushu’s involvement wasn’t strictly necessary, but I elected to allow it for the sake of maintaining our amicable relationship.

Multiple copies of Cin and Qreet stood ready atop the otherwise abandoned outermost wall. The Daemons' projections had created a number of hidden pitfall traps along the ground the living statue was expected to take during its approach.

Ushu was hunkered down behind the wall, making opportunistic swipes at any monsters that drew too close but otherwise remaining incredibly still and quiet.

Similarly, I used the monsters passing through the open gateway as practice while remaining out of sight. However, with the living statue growing closer, I grew increasingly nervous. I was a novice, at best, when it came to spears. After repeated failures and fumbles in the swamp, I had all but abandoned the idea of using a spear ever again.

It seemed natural that the Labyrinths would orchestrate a situation where I would be all but forced to take up a spear that was as dangerous to myself as it would be to my enemy. The precision required by spears seemed completely unnecessary when compared to the crude machete on my belt. Worse still, Shiverfang wasn’t even a Primitive or Heavy weapon-

I frowned as a thought frantically worked its way through the pain clouding my mind. “Why isn’t it a heavy weapon?” I muttered aloud.

I stared at Shiverfang accusingly for a few moments without fully understanding why I was doing so. Compelled by the lingering influence of the train of thought, I ceded a fraction of my regenerated mana into Shiverfang.

Expecting the mana to return once the artefact confirmed that it had already met my size requirements for scale, I was surprised when Shiverfang absorbed the mana instead. Having been in the wrong frame of mind to properly observe any reaction, I spent a few moments to calm my mind before feeding Shiverfang three points of mana.

Shiverfang’s shaft expanded, becoming a full third thicker and twice as heavy. Similarly, Shiverfang’s blade grew a full third larger in every dimension.

*Boom*

A loud crashing sound from beyond the wall drew me from my musings just in time to witness Ushu leap up and over the wall.

Running out of the gateway, I found Ushu in his Manifested form worrying at the neck of the living statue with his powerful jaws.

Half buried in the ground and immobilised by thick roots and animated stone hands, the living statue could do nothing as Ushu slowly but steadily sheared through its neck.

Warily making my own approach through the field of hidden pitfalls, I felt a worrying sense of dread and expectation. Worrying that, At any moment, the living statue would break free and deal a crippling blow to ushu, perhaps even killing him by driving its spear through his eye socket and into his brain.

However, in stark contrast to my expectations, the living statue’s neck suddenly snapped free of its body, rendering its body completely inert. Then, to my horror, Ushu swallowed the Living Statue’s head.

“USHU! NO!” An image formed in my mind of the living statue tearing Ushu apart from the inside as it regenerated its body.

Ushu stared at me for a moment with three of his six eyes, then he blinked. The Manifested horn floating upon his forehead began to glow with a rich orange light, signalling that Ushu was channelling his mana.

Unable to do more than wait and see what would happen, I became confused when Ushu calmly sat himself down like a cat and stared back at me.

A full minute passed in awkward silence and stillness before Ushu’s horn gave off a brilliant flash of orange light and a kill notification appeared in front of my eyes.

The Ancient Stone Guardian was dead.

Ushu slowly got to his feet again and made his way toward me. Opening his mouth, Ushu flicked something off of his tongue that landed at my feet with a wet splat. He looked at me expectantly for a moment and then down at the object.

Still confused by what had happened, I knelt down to take a closer look at the object.

It looked like a mass of wet brown cloth, but spending a few moments examining it revealed that it was also a magical item. I couldn’t be sure without touching it, so I set aside my lingering squeamishness and picked it up with my free hand.

“Hood of the Hedge Mage,” I murmured distractedly while glancing over the item's description.

“Traaaaade!” Ushu rumbled quietly, nodding his snout toward the sodden brown hood and making it clear that it was not intended as a gift.

“For what?” I asked warily, despite already having a reasonably good idea what Ushu would want.

“Gooooold!” Ushu replied almost immediately, huffing early through his nostrils.

I chose a ring at random from Sanctuary’s stockpile of donated magical items and tossed it into the ground at Ushu’s feet, “I don’t have the mana to resize it for you,” I explained apologetically.

Ushu didn’t seem to be listening, instead focusing intently on the tiny ring while slowly lowering one of his foreclaws toward it.

Relieved that Ushu was suitably satisfied with our trade, I turned my attention back toward the Hood of Hedge Mage. The magical aura I could feel radiating from the hood was orders of magnitudes greater than the ring I had traded to Ushu. However, the description of the hood’s magical properties seemed to be impossibly more valuable than even its magical aura had suggested.

My issues with rationing mana would soon be at an end.

The hood possessed two Abilities, for lack of a better word. The first was active and allowed mana to be spent in order to mimic a lesser version of a witnessed Spell. Spells were a difficult classification to pin down. While all Spells required expending mana to activate, not all Abilities that met those same criteria were Spells.

Thundering Strikes and Summon Servant were both Spells. Manifestation and Cleaving Strike were not.

The Lesser condition itself implied that the Spell would be weakened in some fashion, but I didn’t really mind. I would much rather have a Lesser version of Ril’s ability to create Gateways, or Fesk’s Sin Eater, than nothing at all.

However, as exciting as the prospect of gaining an extra Ability for free was, the ability to generate mana at the cost of gaining Fatigue and Exhaustion was on another level entirely.

It had taken my mind less than a second to latch onto the possibility of potentially infinite mana. By incurring Fatigue in exchange for mana, I stood a decent chance of resisting the Fatigue outright so long as I had a Kobold’s Dogged Determination Ability for Synergy. In turn, by paying HP as the cost for maintaining the Dogged Determination Ability, I just had to eat food to trigger Iron Gut’s accelerated Healing.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but if it meant avoiding headaches like the one I was currently experiencing, then I was all for giving it a shot.

Resisting the urge to don the saliva-soaked hood then and there, I returned to the cavern. After having a Sergeant swear an oath to wash the hood and protect it with his life, in exchange for the promise of a full day of visitation to use as he saw fit, I collapsed into my bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

My first thought upon waking up was how incredibly stupid and dangerous it had been to take Shiverfang into bed with me. This was closely followed by how monumentally reckless it had been to have Shiverfang in the vicinity of my unconscious body. Not only could I have harmed myself in my sleep, anyone with a mind to do me harm would have had the perfect means at their disposal.

Scowling at Shiverfang, I felt an immense degree of envy for Toofy’s extra-dimensional Storage Ability. However, that sense of envy shifted quite suddenly as I was reminded of the hood I had left in a Sergeants safekeeping. I didn’t know whether Toofy’s Storage Ability was a Spell or not, but I had the means to find out and nothing to lose by trying.

The Sergeant and his men had kept to their Oath and maintained a constant vigil over the hood as well as making sure it was thoroughly cleaned. True to my word, I had the Major’s staff credit twenty-four hours of visitation to each soldier.

Once the soldiers explained the cause for their boon, the Major himself would likely come up with some other commendation or reward for their service.

Returning to my bed, I slowly fed mana into the hood until it reached a sufficient size to comfortably fit over my head and settled on my shoulders. Similar to the chain and padded hoods worn by some of the soldiers beneath their helmets, the Hood of the Hedge Mage was made of a thick cloth that covered my head and a large ring of fabric that covered part of my chest, shoulders and back.

While some people might not like the dull brown colour of the fabric, I was of the opinion that it complimented my pale green skin rather nicely. Similarly, the damaged edges of the fabric added a sense of character that many of the other magical items lacked.

Setting aside Shiverfang, I took several steadying breaths and activated the hood’s passive mana restoration Ability.

I managed to recover ten mana before feeling a faint sense of tiredness, and I regained another twenty before gaining the Fatigued Condition.

Before sacrificing HP to activate Dogged Determination, I read through the Ability again on a whim and realised that the self-feeding loop might be even more overpowered than I had first realised. Dogged Determination could be maintained through HP ‘or’ MP. I had focused on the HP cost because of the greater synergy it had been providing the army as a whole.

Activating Dogged Determination, I felt the Fatigue slip away and the Condition quickly disappeared. As I had hoped might be the case, my mana, albeit incredibly slowly, continued to rejuvenate.

I needed to spend my mana in order to continue testing, I began engaging in Summoned visitations for any soldiers that were off duty and had scheduled time on the books. Due to the low costs involved in Summoning Humans, I decided to Summon Toofy so i could try and emulate a Lesser version of Storage.

*Tingling*

Appearing beside the two soldiers still waiting in line, Toofy eyes curiously wandered over the sea of canvas walls occupying the cavern. It had been a long time since I had last spoken to Toofy in the company of Humans, so I was surprised to realise how tall she had grown.

Easily close to five feet or so tall, Toofy was still as quick on her feet as ever. After taking in the sights in less than a handful of seconds, Toofy grinned madly as her eyes settled on me, “TIM!” She exclaimed excitedly, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around my right thigh.

“Hi Toofy,” I carefully patted her head with my free hand, “It’s nice to see you too.”

Toofy looked up at me and grinned, “Tim miss Toofy?”

“I have,” I admitted, somewhat disappointed in myself that I hadn’t Summoned her for a social visit sooner.

“Toofy missed Tim too!” Toofy exclaimed, giving my thigh a squeeze, “Toofy watch Tim’s babies, keep them safe!” She declared proudly, “Just like Tim said!”

“I know, Lash has told me,” I replied thankfully, “You have been very helpful.”

It was the truth so far as I knew. Lash had commented offhandedly how Suzy in particular enjoyed playing with Toofy, while Ril would sit alongside Pete and watch.

Toofy’s grin widened, exposing more of her sharp teeth as she excitedly bobbed up and down.

Lifting Toofy up with my free hand, I settled her down on my left shoulder and felt a pang of nostalgia for simpler times. It was a strange sensation given that I had only known Toofy for a number of months. I could only reason that the intensity of the experiences we had shared played a large part in my warped perception of time.

After performing the Summons for the last couple of soldiers, I went on a walkabout with Toofy, giving her an improvised tour of the cavern and then of the village above.

The Conquest was close to being over, but the women, children, and elderly were still kept under close guard in their homes.

Toofy didn’t seem to mind, seemingly content to explore someplace new.

It was while Toofy was exploring the village that I attempted to copy her Storage Ability. Unfortunately, Storage was not a Spell. However, Toofy unerringly provided a solution to my problem when she claimed ownership over a discarded fang necklace and vanished the necklace into her extradimensional space.

At first, I didn’t truly understand what had happened. I couldn’t accept that Toofy’s Storage Ability had been allowed to function when activated by her projection. However, the longer I thought about it, the more my initial expectations were revealed to be lacking in merit. There were no reasons I knew of that should have prevented her from doing so, I had just assumed it would be impossible.

Ending Toofy’s Summon prematurely, I gathered my mana and Summoned her again a couple of moments later.

*Tingling*

As Toofy materialised, she looked around herself in confusion.

“Tooofy, can you show me the necklace you picked up?” I asked while trying to supress my excitement.

Toofy gave me a confused look but nodded helpfully. A few moments later, the fang necklace appeared in her right hand, “Tim want?” She asked curiously.

I shook my head and smiled, “No, I was just testing something,” I explained, “I was hoping you would keep this spear safe for me,” I tapped the butt of shiverfang on the ground.

Toofy looked at Shiverfang and shrugged, “Okay,” she reached out and pressed her forefinger against the shaft.

I felt a faint tug inside the core of my being and through a force of will made no effort to resist.

Shiverfang disappeared and Toofy smiled, “Toofy do,” she declared with satisfaction.

A wave of profound relief passed through my being as the bane of my existence left my immediate vicinity.

“Thank you Toofy!” I squatted down and ruffled her hair playfully, “It means a lot to me that you will be keeping the spear locked away. So don’t let anyone know you have it, okay?”

Toofy gingerly nodded her head while grinning maniacally.

“Good girl,” I praised and lifted Toofy onto my shoulder again.

Toofy cackled with glee and self-satisfaction.

I spent a while longer showing Toofy around before her projection ran out of mana and disappeared.

Continuing my experiments with the Hood of the Hedge Mage, I was very nearly overwhelmed by how much it accelerated my mana regeneration. Hour after hour I spent my mana to avoid reaching my cap, trying to find the upper limits of the self-feeding cycle. After four hours of constant use, the process was still holding strong and showed no signs of generating fatigue.

Of course, this was all in a very controlled setting. I felt certain that any strenuous activities would most likely immediately tip the scales and cause me to begin accruing Fatigue.

I would have tested the theory, but the monsters drawn by the Conquest had grown few and far between, and then the Conquest was finished, ending the arrival of new monsters outright.

While taking another look at the Hood of the Hedge Mage’s Abilities, I was surprised to find that a list of compatible Spells had been gathered while I was entertaining Toofy. Unsurprisingly, the Summoning Abilities were all represented, including my own Summon Servant Ability.

Curious to see what the difference between the two Abilities would be, I mentally selected Summon Servant as the designated Spell and received a confirmation notice. To my surprise, the confirmation included a description of the Lesser Summon Servant Ability.

Essentially, instead of Summoning copies of the person in question, I would instead create generic approximations of them instead. This meant that when the Summon ran out of mana and disappeared, the individual the summon was based upon as a reference wouldn’t receive any memories of what transpired. It was functionally identical to the Summon Ally Class Ability of the Summoner Class.

After making the confirmation, I decided to run another test. Removing myself from the group at large to remove all Synergies, I concentrated on forming an image in my mind of one of Kobold scouts.

*Tingling*

Although somewhat difficult to differentiate at first, I quickly realised that the Kobold I had Summoned was indeed profoundly generic. What gave it away first was the unnaturally perfect symmetrical patterns in its fur. Upon closer inspection, there also seemed to be something missing in its eyes. If I were more spiritually inclined, I would have assumed it was missing a soul. However, in a more practical sense, I was convinced it was because the Kobold lacked any form of free will.

Shifting my attention from the Kobold’s dead soulless eyes to my own status, I was pleased to find that I had gained the Kobold’s Synergies. After performing a rigorous comparison to the living Kobolds accompanying the army, I realised that the Summoned Kobold’s stats and Abilities didn’t quite match any of the Kobold Scouts, or any of the other Kobolds for that matter.

The Summoned Kobold was, for lack of a better word, average. It had average Evolution progression, Class progression, and stat progression. The Summoned Kobold possessing a Class was an unexpected boon and reinforced my assumption that Summon Servant’s lesser form was functionally similar but still superior to Summon Ally.

Lesser Summon Ally made the Hood of the Hedge Mage something of a game-changer. Summoning projections of my trusted allies was a tried and true option. However, accumulated psychological trauma was a very real risk.

To a certain extent, the Daemons had a natural filter for violence, providing them with a buffer against certain forms of injury and death inherited from their projections. It still wasn’t a good idea for them to engage in repeated kamikaze assaults. Still, it gave them a distinct psychological advantage over other Species that were not adapted to be Summoned.

To put it bluntly, Lesser Summon Servant provided the solution to my ethical crisis. Allowing me to Summon any ally I required into a combat zone without fear of psychologically scarring them for life if things turned ugly. It also opened possibilities for lethal combat training against an incredibly wide range of opponents. The only true downside was that I was still unable to Summon copies of myself.

I was tempted to perform a Lesser Summoning of Ushu or Cooper so I could determine the relative costs in mana against objectively weaker options but ultimately decided against it. Without warning Ushu first, there was a relatively high chance that Ushu’s territorial instincts would compel him toward violence. Which was something I would prefer to avoid.

I was interrupted from my musings by the arrival of Lieutenant Laine.

“Majesty,” Lieutenant Laine bowed respectfully, “The Major is curious whether your Majesty has plans for the dungeon.”

I had actually somewhat forgotten about it in my excitement over the Hood of the Hedge Mage.

“I don’t have any immediate plans,” I admitted, “Why? Does the Major have plans of his own?”

Lieutenant Laine slowly shook her head, “No, Majesty. I believe the general consensus was to wait and see what your Majesty’s intentions were before choosing to act.”

I was forced to admit that it made sense. Especially since the soldiers under the Major’s command were probably not strong enough to handle a dungeon yet without overwhelming numbers. Or so I assumed, since I had only ever entered one dungeon before, and it had not exactly gone to plan.

“I’ll enter with a team,” I mused aloud, “A small team,” I clarified before there could be any misunderstandings. “If things go wrong, I want to be able to leave in a hurry. I don’t know if the last dungeon I entered was a fair representation, but things went downhill very quickly.”

Lieutenant Laine nodded crisply in agreement, “Does your Majesty have a list of candidates?”

“I am working on it,” I replied evasively, “But Nila and her team will be part of my escort.”

As I had expected, Lieutenant Laine relaxed after learning of the military's involvement.

“The final team will depend on what I can learn about the risks presented by the dungeons,” I took a moment to concentrate.

*Tingling*

The familiar form of Gregory took shape beside the Lieutenant.

“Majesty,” Gregory bowed, apparently unsurprised by the summons.

“Gregory,” I nodded my head in greeting, “This matter is somewhat time sensitive, so I will be brief. There is a dungeon located on this floor and the dungeon’s Guardian is currently defeated. Before I make any attempt at entering the dungeon, I want to know if there is some sort of dungeon expert or something who can provide me with some advice and information.”

Gregory furrowed his brow thoughtfully, “There are numerous records kept by the Adventurers Guild, and they would have had a specialist keeping those records. I can provide you with a name within a couple of hours?” He offered confidently.

“Please do,” I replied before dismissing Gregory’s projection and immediately Summoning him again.

“Majesty?” Gregory seemed confused, “Was there something else?”

“I need to put together a team,” I replied, “But I also needed you working on finding the specialist.”

“Ah,” Gregory nodded in understanding before growing contemplative. “To the best of my limited knowledge, dungeons often require a combination of wit, agility, strength and perseverance to overcome. To this end, I would like to volunteer myself, Majesty.”

I had expected this, “I will be forming a team of Summoned projections and copies,” I warned, “And if the dungeon proves too dangerous, I will have Cin or Qreet bury it.”

“Projections?” Gregory asked curiously.

“A Summon like yourself that has your memories, personality, and delivers its memories to your true self after its destruction,” I explained, “Regular summons are just generic copies. Completely self-contained.”

“Oh...” Gregory grew thoughtful for a few moments before nodding his head, “I think I understand. But, if I may ask?”

I motioned for him to continue.

“Why have you not used Summoned projections more extensively?” Gregory asked curiously.

“Well, I have used it a fair bit actually,” I countered, “The only issue was rationing my mana. Summon Servant’s cost is dependent on the Evolution Tier of the subject and how far away from me they are. Although, the second factor doesn’t seem to increase the cost by much.”

“Is this why your Majesty Summons me so casually?” Gregory asked with a smirk.

“Humans are quite cheap, relatively speaking,” I replied with a smirk of my own.

“Another question, Majesty? Won’t a team of projections leave yourself vulnerable due to being low on mana?” Gregory asked with a combination of concern and curiosity.

I wavered my hand, “Not really. Ushu received a magic item after defeating the dungeon Guardian. I am currently abusing a feedback loop-a strong synergy, between a Kobold Racial Ability and an Ability granted by the item itself to considerably increase my mana regeneration.”

“And this will be enough to maintain an entire team while exploring a dungeon?” Gregory asked.

“It might be,” I replied with a shrug, “Depending on how dangerous the dungeon proves itself to be. The thing you need to understand is that Summoned creatures use the mana they were Summoned with in place of not just the mana to power their own Abilities, but as energy for their body. The more running and strenuous activity a Summon performs, the shorter its effective duration.”

“I see, Gregory grew silent again as he considered something.

“If the dungeon is dangerous, but not so much that I need to retreat, I will shift to using regular Summons instead of Projections,” I continued to explain, “The risk in using projections comes from accumulated stress and negative experiences. There are only so many times someone would be able to experience death before their mind begins to slip.”

“I had not considered that,” Gregory admitted with visible disappointment.

I could only imagine that Gregory had been envisioning what clandestine activities a team of elite soldiers could accomplish without risk of permanent injury, death, or capture.

Then Gregory’s eyes lit up again, “Majesty, what about for the purposes of training? Surely the rigours of combat in such circumstances would be acceptable?”

I had similar thoughts earlier, so I wasn't particularly surprised Gregory had arrived at such a grey area so quickly, “Quite possibly,” I agreed, “Accidents in training are always a possibility, and a living intact soldier is far preferable to a dead or maimed one. After all, there are currently limits to what the Surgeons are capable of fixing.”

“Ahem, the matter of the dungeon, Majesty?” Lieutenant Laine interjected politely.

“Ah, right,” Gregory roughly cleared his throat in embarrassment, “Besides a dungeon expert, I would suggest taking someone who has extensive experience with hidden traps. Assuming your Majesty does not intend to place yourself in undue danger, regular Summons could feasibly take the combined roles of damage dealing and establishing combat perimeters.”

“Do you have a recommendation for the trap expert?” I asked somewhat lightheartedly, expecting Gregory to use the opportunity to volunteer himself.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do know of such an individual,” Gregory agreed, although he seemed somewhat uncomfortable about it for some reason.

“Who is it?” I pressed.

Gregory shifted uncomfortably, “A freelancer by the name of Mortimer. His allegiance to the crown, and your Majesty, is minimal. He is an incredibly old man in a profession where almost all die young. While he did not reject taking your Majesty’s oaths, he holds no loyalty to anyone beyond himself. We have had him under constant observation since he took his oaths, so finding him will not be a problem-”

“Projections, Gregory, remember?” I reminded him. The only living person entering the dungeon would be myself.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Gregory snorted his nose quietly and shook his head, “Then my final suggestion would be a projection of myself, Majesty. I am more than capable of engaging in an intense melee or striking from a distance, and my tracking and detection Abilities may prove useful.”

I suppress a smile, “You were already on the list Gregory.”

Gregory straightened his shoulders and stood a little taller at the news, “By your command, Majesty.”

“So about this Mortimer character, I need more information to find him in the registry,” I insisted patiently, not wanting to ruin the moment for Gregory.

“Of course, Majesty,” Gregory closed his eyes and wore a thoughtful expression for a few moments, “Unfortunately, Mortimer has not taken on a second name, but he has a daughter within the registry as well, Phoebe Willowcreek, of the Willowcreek Settlement. So far as we are aware, they are estranged from another-”

“It’s alright,” I interjected, “The name is enough to narrow it down.”

*Tingling*

A cantankerous-looking old man of perhaps seventy or so with white wispy unkempt hair, a bowed back and large swollen knuckles appeared at Gregory’s side.

“Eh?!” The old man, Mortimer, gave a start and stiffly backpedalled away from Gregory, and in the process caused a wicked-looking dagger to appear in his right hand, “Was’ goin on?!” his eyes widened further as he noticed the leather bracers on his forearms, and then the padded tunic and specialised steel cuirass on is chest, “Wha’ the?...”

“You stand in the presence of his Majesty!” Lieutenant Laine barked stiffly, “Show some respect!”

“Majesty?” Mortimer scoffed incredulously before seeming to think better of it and following Lieutenant Laine’s focus. “...” He stumbled backward, mouth agape and eyes wide with fear, “Thas’ no’ the prince!...”

“No, he is not,” Gregory interjected curtly, “His Majesty is the one to whom we all owe fealty, whose laws you swore under oath to uphold.”

Recognition passed behind Mortimer’s eyes, “He’s the Og-”

“Your Tyrant and Majesty!” Lieutenant Laine snapped, drawing three inches of steel from her scabbard.

Mortimer eyed the bared steel from the corner of his eye and licked his lips nervously, “Uh...Well...I haven’t broken my oaths...So...Why am I here?”

“His Majesty-” Gregory began to explain but I waved him down.

“I have a need for your skills,” I replied directly, managing to somehow cause the old man’s eyes to widen still further. “I have been told that you possess a strong affinity for traps and general skullduggery,” I tried not to laugh at the use of the word.

“Ah, well, yes, many would consider me as a master of the craft...” Mortimer replied meekly.

“I am forming a team to explore a dungeon inside of a Labyrinth,” I explained carefully, allowing him time to internalise what I was saying, “While I can guarantee you will not die, I cannot guarantee your well-being. Under these conditions, what do you require in compensation for your participation?”

“Guarantee I won’t croak?” Mortimer spluttered incredulously before growing cowed again, “I erm...If’n I were to take a job like that, I would want somethin’ big,” he stated warily while giving me the impression that he was testing the waters.

“What is your price?” I repeated patiently, “Time is a factor, and if you drag out proceedings unnecessarily then I will be inclined to be far less generous.”

The old man paled, “I...erm...tha’ is...” He closed his eyes and took several rattling breaths before opening them again, “I heard tha’ some toffs got access to secret Classes, I want tha’ fer me grandson Callum,” Mortimer stated hurriedly and winced in anticipation of violent rejection.

“A Promotion and access to the special Classes?” I clarified, “That’s your price?”

White as a sheet, Mortimer nodded.

“Alright,” I agreed, “Depending on how well you perform your role, your grandson, Callum, will receive a Promotion and access to special training. Agreed?”

“Erm...The training provides the Classes?” Mortimer asked uncertainly.

“Assuming Callum hasn’t met certain conditions on his own?” I clarified, “Yes.”

“Then I agree, erm, yer’ Majesty!” Mortimer bowed his head and pulled at the hood of his cloak in lieu of a hat.

“I will send for you when we are ready to begin,” I announced and then dismissed Mortimer’s projection.

“A Promotion?” Despite Gregory asking the question, I could tell Lieutenant Laine was the more interested of the pair.

“An Underlord Promotion isn’t a particularly high price to pay for my peace of mind,” I replied with a smirk, “Besides, having another Underlord entering my Labyrinth regularly is in my own best interests.”

Gregory had already conceded the first point so he didn’t contest the second.

“If the Asrusian Faction wants to Promote military officers and the nobility, that is their right. I didn’t give your leaders such a large degree of autonomy just so I could trample all over it,” I stated in a warning tone, “As such, I would appreciate a certain consideration for how I handle my own affairs.”

Laine and Gregory both hung their heads slightly and remained silent. It was just as well, because I wasn’t fishing for an apology.

I dismissed Gregory’s projection a few moments later and then set about organising my guard detail and transportation. With both Dragons serving as transportation, it didn’t take long for Clarice and Nadine to catch wind of my expedition. Naturally, they both demanded to tag along. Not wanting to waste any more time, we agreed upon a compromise.

Clarice, Nadine, and the guard detail would hold down the entrance to the dungeon, and if I got into any trouble, I would contact them Summoning a projection.

Clarice had wanted to tag along in person but had relented when Nadine reminded her that someone would need to keep an eye on Dhizi.

Making the trip by air was considerably faster than walking, but the dungeon itself wasn’t particularly far from Hamburg, to begin with.

My concerns over finding the dungeon entrance had proven unfounded when Dhizi led the way toward a rocky mound only nominally hidden by the surrounding woodlands.

A giant stone archway loomed above the treeline and revealed a dark carved stone passageway beyond its threshold. This was particularly strange since the stone archway stood freely in the middle of the clearing, utterly devoid of mundane connections to a conventional structure of any kind.

I wanted the core members of my expedition to have as much available mana as possible, so I made a point of Summoning them individually and waiting for my mana to fully recover in between Summons.

I was already familiar with Gregory and Mortimer, but the third member of our team came as something of a surprise.

Teressa Honeywood, a young woman of no more than twenty, was introduced by Gregory as our dungeon expert. Short and with mousy brown hair and large glasses, she fit my expectations for a librarian or scholar well enough. Just like Mortimer and Gregory, Teressa’s projection had been provided with padded armour and a helmet as a base and a shaped breastplate for additional protection.

Unlike Mortimer, Teressa had apparently leapt at the opportunity to explore a dungeon ‘in person’.

With the core team formed from projections, I Summoned Lesser copies of five Asrusian Swordsmen and five Archers.

I stored the Summoned Kobold I was using as part of my mana regeneration exploit inside of an open barrel worn on my back. The barrel had been reinforced with additional bands of steel and converted into something reminiscent of a backpack so I could keep the Summoned Kobold out of harm's way.

Entering the dungeon, the Summoned soldiers took point and the projections of Mortimer, Gregory and Teressa held the centre while I lagged behind in the rear.

The dungeon itself was remarkably similar to the previous dungeon I had entered in the Hurst Labyrinth. The floor was paved with large stone tiles and the walls and ceiling were formed from worked stone that was cool to the touch.

As abandoned as it appeared, there was no trace of dust or debris in the opening passage. However, past the illumination of Teressa and Mortimer’s lanterns, and down the far end of the passageway, I could see scattered bones and garbage piled against a large pair of doors.

“Definitely trapped,” Mortimer grunted confidently when the door became illuminated by the lanterns, “Set of spears from the floor I reckon.”

“Really? How can you tell?” Teressa asked with excited enthusiasm, seemingly oblivious to the danger.

“There’s holes in the floor,” Gregory pointed to the tiles in front of the door.

Mortimer nodded in agreement.

Upon reaching the door, I was able to confirm the presence of the holes for myself.

“How do we proceed?” I asked, curious to see what the expert would recommend.

“Er, well, we jus’ need to avoid steppin’ on the trigger plate,” Mortimer replied while pointing to a tile beneath the door, “No trigger, no trap.”

“What if it’s magical in nature?” I asked, “The trigger I mean.”

Mortimer took a moment to consider the question before giving a nonchalant shrug, “Then I say it pays to be last in line, yer Majesty.”

“Right...” He had a point, but it was far from reassuring.

The Summoned Swordsmen went first, pairing up in order to push open both doors at roughly the same time.

The open door revealed more skeletal remains, most of which looked too large for a human but were about the right size for a Boarman or Pigman.

The Summoned Swordsmen had crossed the threshold without incident and were soon followed by the Archers.

“It’s the centre left tile,” Mortimer grunted and pointed to the offending tile beneath the doorway, “Should mark it in case we need ter scarper,” he advised.

I attempted to conjure a stick of charcoal and was momentarily stunned when it failed to appear. As best I could guess, the dungeon had somehow blocked my authority as Sanctuary’s Tyrant.

In the meantime, Mortimer had taken a broken femur and carefully placed it on the tile.

Moving on, we found ourselves in a large room with two doors, one placed on the left side of the room, and one on the right. The far wall was adorned with dozens of gilded bird cages. Even without the light of the lanterns, I could make out small, still, humanoid figures occupying most of the cages. However, as the light was cast upon the cages, the occupants of the cages became restless.

“Oh wow!” Teressa exclaimed excitedly, “This appears to be a classic ‘Guide’ station for the dungeon!”

“What does that mean?” I asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh! Well, the more difficult and dangerous dungeons provide guides as a sort of handicap,” Teressa explained cheerily, “Of course, guides aren’t to be trusted. They will provide invaluable assistance, at first, but as you make more progress, the guide will become less reliable and attempt acts of sabotage. The creators of the dungeons don’t actually want anyone to defeat them, but they seem to have their own twisted rules they need to abide by as well.”

“So, choosing a guide isn’t necessarily the way to go then?” I clarified.

“Well...I wouldn’t say that,” Teressa gazed longingly toward the rows of haphazardly hung cages and their exotic occupants, “There is nothing stopping us from benefiting from their advice in the beginning and then ignoring it later.”

“And it won’t just attack us when it figures out it can’t trick us?” I pressed.

“There have been reports of guide-type monsters attempting violence,” Teressa conceded, “But it’s exceedingly rare.”

“In your expert opinion, do you believe the benefits outweigh the risks?” I insisted, making it clear that I wanted a yes or no answer.

Teressa took a few moments to consider the question. Just as she seemed prepared to answer, a small squeaky voice echoed throughout the room.

“Don’t pick me!” It demanded shrilly, immediately drawing our collective attention toward the tiny occupant of the cage on the lower left-hand side of the wall. “Picking me is against your best interests! I will definitely betray and murder you! I will not offer sexual favours for freedom! Everything is off limits!”

With the bodily proportions of a young woman, albeit one foot tall, I initially mistook the pale-skinned creature for a fairy. However, while crossing the room for a close look, I noticed the bat-like wings she had been trying to hide through careful posturing.

Once I had noticed the wings, a number of other previously hidden details came into focus. Pointed canines, black sclera, claws, and a pair of tiny pointe horns hidden in her hair. The longer I watched her, the less human she became. Even her skin changed under observation, turning a rich violet to match to contrast against her now shock-white hair.

As if it realised I could see its true form, the monster gave me an awkward apologetic smile, “It’s exactly what it looks like?...” The monster claimed hopefully, “This doesn’t look bad, and I can’t explain anything...”

Keenly aware of the monster’s blatant Bizarro-esque nature of her speech patterns, I squatted down in front of the cage and stared down at the monster, “Try me,” I challenged.

***** Sebet - Asrusian Capital Labyrinth ~ Eighth Floor ~ Dungeon *****

Sebet stared up at the Ogre in shock and disbelief. If she had not witnessed it speak with her own two eyes and ears, she would not have believed what was happening.

“You can’t understand?” Sebet asked nervously, afraid of being disappointed.

After all, the last person she would have expected to see through the contrarian curse would be an Ogre. They were, somehow, supposed to be even stupider than Boarmen. After so many humans had failed to see through her curse, even after Sebet took great care in phrasing her sentences to make it as obvious as possible, she had all but given up hope.

“I do,” the Ogre replied calmly with a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

Sebet didn’t know what to say.

“So, why are you in that cage?” The Ogre asked with a hint of impatience, shocking Sebet out of her state of confusion.

“It’s definitely not a punishment,” Sebet replied, struggling to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Enforced by who?” The Ogre asked curiously, “The dungeon?”

Sebet shook her head animatedly, “Yes! And I can tell you who and what they are!”

The Ogre frowned and Sebet became worried that she had lost him. “Is it Angels?” He asked quietly.

Sebet stared at the blunt guileless face of the Ogre in surprise, “N-No...”

The Ogre grunted unintelligibly and nodded to itself, “Figures.” He turned his attention back to Sebet, “Why are you being punished?” The tone of his voice had a hint of danger to it now and Sebet realised that she needed to choose her next words VERY carefully.

As much as Sebet desired her freedom, there was precious little stopping the Ogre from viciously shaking her cage until Sebet was throttled to death.

“I am not a prisoner of war,” Sebet stated carefully.

“Figures they would torture prisoners,” the Ogre muttered to himself, “But that still doesn’t explain why you are in the cage I am fairly certain you aren’t a Daemon,” he continued while eyeing her critically, “Which begs the question, what are you?”

Sebet’s survival instincts flared in reaction to the mentioning of a second mortal enemy to her Species, “I am a Daemon,” she shook her head vehemently, “I am a primitive savage that prowls about like a Beast!”

“Then what are you?” The Ogre challenged with a subtle but unmistakable promise of violence.

Knowing she could no longer dodge the question, Sebet gathered her will and prayed to the depths that the Ogre wouldn’t be able to resist her Charm and Seduction. His ability to see through the curse meant that he could be manipulated provided-

PAIN.

Sebet’s knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed to the floor of her cage as white-hot pain lanced through her mind.

“That’s strike one,” the Ogre rumbled dangerously.

Sweating profusely, Sebet struggled into a sitting position and tried to slow her panicked breathing. She had attempted and failed to influence targets before, but Sebet had never experienced such intense, immediate and excruciating agony.

“And before you even think about attempting the same with my companions, you should know that I have an Ability that requires you go through me first,” the Ogre growled, “So don’t even try it.”

Sebet couldn’t stop herself from shaking.

Who in the Hells was this Ogre?! There should have been no way he was capable of even the most basic problem solving let alone resisting Sebet so strongly! Unless...

Sebet cautiously activated her second sight.

Eyes widening as she took in the Ogre’s aura, Sebet would have been driven to her knees if she had not been sitting already. Primal irresistible instincts immediately warred against one another in her conscious and subconscious as they attempted to determine a course of action. All the while Sebet continued to stare at the Ogre’s domination aura.

Leaps and bounds more powerful than those she had served in the uppermost reaches of Hell, Sebet realised that the Ogre possessed a fraction of the absolute authority of the Labyrinths. More than that, she now recognised the Ogre for what he was, a seed of destruction sown by the Labyrinths to bring ruin and death to all.

Realising she was hyperventilating and her heart was racing, Sebet desperately tried to slow her breathing. It immediately proved an almost impossible task.

One of the many shortcomings of her caste was the attraction to power and authority, and while power could take many forms, the literal authority of the Labyrinths was without equal.

All thoughts of misleading or manipulating the Ogre were abandoned completely.

To serve a Lord of the Labyrinths became Sebet’s sole overwhelming desire. Whatever that form may take.