“There is only one hostile on the level,” he replied.
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t be certain, but the spell I used—show hostiles—picked up the presence of all the spirits on the lower floors. I see no reason why it would fail now.” He paused. “It must be Sula.”
Cilantria fell silent. “It can’t be her,” she said eventually.
Kyran started in surprise. “Why not?”
“Sula has at least two powerful spirits bound to her service. She is too wily to leave herself without their protection.”
Kyran frowned. “You didn’t mention them earlier.” Although he supposed he should have expected the necromancer to have minions accompanying her. He turned his attention to his player map again. So, if it was not Sula up ahead, what was it that awaited them? And what had happened to the other undead on this level? Whatever it was, he needed to proceed cautiously.
“I should cast my protective spells,” said Kyran. “Will my magic interfere with your glamour?”
“It won’t,” replied the spectre.
Kyran nodded and, drawing on his psi and essence, cast his longer-lasting protections.
Kyran has cast magic shield (shield strength: 816 HP).
Kyran has activated mind-over-matter (+44 strength, dexterity, and constitution).
Kyran has cast boost speed (+44% speed, duration: 44 minutes).
Ready, Kyran tip-toed deeper into the level. Unlike the lower levels, there were no large central hallways on this floor, only smaller corridors and a dizzying maze of small chambers. “What was this level?”
“This floor served as a dormitory for the younger initiates: boys and girls still in-training to become priests.”
“And what’s in the centre?” he asked. That was where show hostiles reported the red icon to be.
“The dining hall.”
Kyran nodded and crept onwards. He inched his way through the decrepit corridors, past frayed tapestries, threadbare carpets, broken furniture, and battered-down doors. He kept his eyes fixed forwards and refused to look closely at the violence that had been wrought in the dormitory rooms.
As he drew nearer to his destination, he realised that the dining hall, a huge and open space at the level’s centre, had been the main communal area of the initiates. It was large enough to have seated all of the hundreds of initiates that must have lived here at one time.
Then he saw what lurked there.
Filling nearly the entirety of the dining hall was a mound of bone and rotting flesh. An undead mound with deep-set sockets each the size of tables, a bulbous nose of odd bits of flesh mashed together, and a gaping maw wheezing fetid and rancid breath.
Kyran studied the creature in horrified awe. “What is that… thing?”
“An abomination,” hissed Cilantria.
Kyran could not disagree, but that wasn’t much information to work with. Reaching out with his will, he probed the creature, which still seemed unaware of their presence, with insight.
Creature: The Eater. Type: Construct (reanimated dead).
Level: 74. Health: 6400. Rarity: Unique.
Attack: 100-120 (death).
Defences: Physical (37), psi (42), spell (45).
Traits and abilities:
Unsettled bindings: -50% to all defences.
Immobile: Cannot move.
Howling mad: Immune to all mind-altering effects.
Soul eater: Can consume spirits to increase its magical power.
Flesh eater: Can consume flesh to increase its physical attributes.
Vulnerable to fire: +50% fire damage received.
Description:
The Eater is a unique creature. Formed spontaneously from the remnants of bone, flesh, and bits of spirit torn away from tortured initiates, the Eater is not a single creature but a hodgepodge of hundreds forced together in unholy union.
Like its body, the Eater’s mind, knit from the scarred and maddened pieces of its victims, is broken. Incapable of true thought, the Eater is driven only by its twin urges of hunger and hatred.
“We must kill it,” Cilantria demanded.
Kyran blinked, surprised by the venom in the spectre’s voice. “I agree, that creature does not look like anything that should be left alive,” he said slowly. “But we have a mission, remember? We are here for Sula.” And to save Mirien, he added to himself. “I can’t take down that thing on my own.”
“You do not understand!” Cilantria growled. “That abomination has bits of the initiates’ spirits trapped inside itself. Wherever those initiates have been reborn by the Wheel, they are incomplete! Imagine living with half yourself missing and not knowing it. That is the fate the initiates have been subjected to for six hundred years. We cannot let it live!” Rippling surges of red ran through the shadows coating Kyran’s form as the spectre’s rage mounted.
Kyran turned over his arm carefully. Studying the manifestation of the spectre’s anger, he reconsidered what he was about to say next. Cilantria’s rage was out of proportion with what he expected. The Eater had not sprung up overnight. It had to have been here all these long years. He pursed his lips in thought. “Did you not know this creature was here?” he asked quietly.
The spectre’s churning subsided slightly at his question. “I have not entered the Ivory Tower since my death on the walls of Celne six hundred years ago. The orichalcum lining the Tower is as impervious to spirit as it is to magic. Without your aid in opening its doors, I would not have been able to enter.” She lowered her voice further as she said, “We must free them, Bearer.”
Kyran sighed. Cilantria was right. “Alright, but how?”
“You said there were no other spirits on this floor?”
“Correct.”
“Then,” said Cilantria, withdrawing her form from around Kyran, “we kill the Eater together.”
You have received a new quest!
Quest 16: Release the trapped spirits.
Objective: Help Cilantria slay the Eater and release the spirits it holds captive.
Rank: Common.
Reward: 2 skill points.
✽✽✽
“Ready?” whispered Kyran. He was crouched down just outside the dining hall. The spectre floating above him nodded. At her gesture, Kyran released his castings.
Kyran has delay cast oil slick (radius: 8.1m, chance to resist: 5%, duration: 81 seconds), 1 enemy slicked.
Kyran has cast fire dart. An oil pool has been set aflame (damage: 4.1 HP per second), 1 enemy trapped in the flames.
Kyran’s oil flames have hit the Eater for 6 damage (+50% fire damage). Remaining: 6394 / 6400 HP.
A vicious pool of black oil splashed into existence amongst the Eater’s heaped mounds. A second later it was ignited into a blazing inferno by the fire dart.
The attack roused the creature. Its mouth closed with a snap, and twin flames of orange flared to life in empty sockets.
But before the Eater could do more than awake, Cilantria dove into the dining hall and launched her own assault.
Cilantria’s withering ray of death has hit the Eater for 120 death damage (debuff: withering). Remaining: 6274 / 6400 HP.
The Eater is afflicted by withering (damage: 50 HP per second, duration: 20 seconds).
Kyran’s mouth dropped open in shock at the damage Cilantria’s spell had caused. But the Eater was undeterred. Tentacles of rotting flesh shot out of concealed openings in its mounds, and grasped the spectre soaring above its heaving mass.
The Eater’s 5 spirit shackles have trapped Cilantria within their grasp (debuff: shackled, damage: 45 HP per second).
The spectre shrieked as the tentacles bit into her.
Kyran cursed. Where had the tentacles come from? The tendrils of flesh that had grasped Cilantria could not be ordinary appendages either, not if they could trap Cilantria’s ethereal form.
Kyran’s gaze darted from the bound spectre to the Eater. The creature seemed unimpaired by the horrendous damage inflicted by Cil
antria’s withering and the flames licking hungrily over its body.
Its gaze was fixed on Cilantria, to the exclusion of all else. Bit by bit, the tentacles retracted, carrying the spectre back towards the Eater and its maw, which gaped open in eager anticipation.
Kyran’s stomach clenched as he realised what the Eater was about to do. He couldn’t allow it. Drawing his sword, he paused only to drench it in burning fire before blinking forward.
Kyran has cast flaming hands. An elven mageblade has been imbued with burning (+43 fire damage).
Kyran has teleported 20m.
Kyran dropped out of the mindscape and onto the Eater’s body. Balanced precariously on one of its mounds, and ignoring the fire licking at his magic shield, Kyran hacked down onto the tentacle.
Kyran has hit a spirit shackle for 108 damage (44 physical and 64 fire damage). Remaining: 0 / 100 HP.
A spirit shackle has been destroyed.
His attack did not go unanswered. More tentacles shot out from the Eater and wrapped themselves around his magic shield.
The Eater’s 6 flesh shackles have hit Kyran for 0 damage (54 blocked by magic shield). Remaining shield: 762 / 816 HP.
He ignored the angry coils of rotting flesh against his shield and slashed down at a second shackle.
Kyran has destroyed a spirit shackle.
Kyran looked up and saw that Cilantria had not been idle either. Using the distraction Kyran created, she had launched her death orbs and obliterated the other three tentacles binding her.
The spectre was free.
Kyran smiled in grim satisfaction. Dipping into the mindscape, he teleported back to the corridor leading into the dining hall and left the tentacles that had wrapped around his shield clinging uselessly to thin air.
Spinning around, he took stock of the situation. The Eater was still sustaining huge swathes of damage from Kyran and Cilantria’s spells.
The Eater’s afflictions, burning (duration: infinite) and withering (duration: 12 seconds), have dealt 448 damage. Remaining: 5826 / 6400 HP.
But the smile slipped off his face as he noticed the plethora of dark shadows dotting the Eater’s ample mounds—shadows that were similar to the ones that had hidden the first tentacles. The Eater, he realised with sickening dread, had hundreds of tentacles at its disposal.
“Back!” he shouted to Cilantria and retreated deeper into the corridor. Stringing together a chain of teleports, he skipped quickly away from the dining hall. They needed to retreat and regroup.
He whirled at a bit-off cry from behind.
The Eater’s spirit shackles have trapped Cilantria within its grasp (debuff: shackled, damage: 9 HP per second).
One of the Eater’s tentacles had reached into the corridor and curled itself around Cilantria. He swore. The Eater was not going to let them go without a fight.
As he watched, another tendril of flesh felt its way into the corridor and blindly reached for his own form. He sidestepped the searching appendage and hacked it in two.
Kyran has destroyed a flesh shackle.
That proved a mistake.
Five other tentacles immediately tore into the corridor and made directly for Kyran’s position. Hurling himself backwards, Kyran plastered his back against the corridor’s wall.
The Eater’s 5 flesh shackles have missed Kyran.
Watching the tendrils rush by, less than a foot from him, Kyran realised his blunder. The Eater had used the first tentacle as a probe. Even though the creature was mad, it was not without cunning.
He glanced in the direction of the dining hall. Cilantria was nowhere to be seen, but he knew she had freed herself. “Cilantria, where are you?” he whispered.
More seeking tentacles entered the corridor. He couldn’t afford to stick around. Setting off at a run, he widened the distance between himself and the dining hall.
“Here,” said the spectre, her head emerging from the wall at his side.
Kyran bit back a yelp. The spectre’s ethereal form was travelling through the walls. “We have to retreat to the level’s entrance,” he said, turning her way. “There are too many of those tentacles.”
The spectre shook her head. “It’s too late for that now, Bearer.” She gestured in the direction he headed. “Look.”
Kyran’s head swung to where Cilantria pointed. More tentacles had appeared from the opposite end of the corridor.
They were boxed in.
Damnit! he thought. How long are these goddamn tendrils? The Eater sent had sent its tentacles through the adjacent corridors to come at them from behind. Cunning indeed.
Left with no other choice, Kyran dived into the nearest dormitory room. He backed away from the entrance and watched the Eater’s tentacles slip by.
Their motion had slowed. Writhing slowly, the tendrils were pausing to taste the air every so often and to feel along the corridor walls for openings.
The dormitory room would not be safe for long, he realised unhappily.
“All is not lost yet, Kyran,” said Cilantria, seeming to sense his concern. “Even though your oil slick spell has expired, the Eater still burns. Its own flesh fuels the flames, and it cannot put out the fire on its own. It may take some time, but eventually the Eater will die. We only have to remain hidden long enough.”
Kyran tilted his head as he considered her words. The spectre was right. “Can you make your way to the level’s entrance?” he asked.
“I can if I navigate carefully though the walls,” she replied. “But what about you?”
“I can travel there.” He hesitated. The spell had a long cast time, though, and during the spellcasting he would be exposed and vulnerable. He could barricade the room’s entrance with an ice wall, but doing so would be like raising a flare signalling his position. He didn’t know how long it would take the Eater’s tentacles to break through.
No, better to try a different approach. “I need time to cast the spell,” he went on. “Do you think you can draw off the Eater and keep it distracted for a few minutes?”
“I can,” said Cilantria, sounding resolute.
“Don’t let yourself be caught,” he warned. “I will not be able to help you.”
The spectre waved away his concern. “Now that I am aware of the Eater’s tentacles, I will not be caught by surprise again.”
“Alright, let’s begin, then.”
✽✽✽
Kyran has cast travel (self) and teleported 171m.
Two minutes later, Kyran materialised back into the ‘real’ next to the floor’s orichalcum doors.
He would have preferred to travel out of the level altogether, but the orichalcum lined not only the tower’s wall but also its floors, making teleportation between levels impossible. On top of that, if he returned to the lower level without Cilantria cloaking his living form, he would have drawn the attack of the undead spirits nearby.
His gaze darted around the entrance chamber. There was no sign of any of the Eater’s tentacles. Either the creature’s reach did not extend this far, or its search was concentrated elsewhere on the level.
But Cilantria hadn’t appeared either.
Biting his lip, he tried not to worry. He collapsed into a cross-legged stance and set himself to wait. To distract himself, he began inscribing a teleport ring on the floor.
It was something, he had belatedly realised, that he should have done the moment he entered the level. If he had done that, he would have had a much easier and quicker way of escaping the Eater.
“What are you doing?” came a voice from above. It was Cilantria.
He expelled a relieved breath. “Carving a teleport ring,” he replied as he put the finishing touches to the pattern. “In case we need to make a quick getaway again.”
Kyran has inscribed a teleport ring. 1 / 2 available.
He looked up at her. “Any problems?”
“No,” she replied. “But we shouldn’t delay making our way to the lower level. The Eater will expand its search soon.”
He rose to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 11
02 Novo 2603 AB
The living dead cannot channel divinity. This is an incontestable truth of the Game. The very bindings that keep an undead spirit shackled to its living body also obscure its pathways to the divine. —Johlya Seerixa, naturalist.
It was little over fifteen minutes before the Game message Kyran had been waiting for arrived.
The Eater has died.
Congratulations! You have slain the Eater and completed the quest: Release the trapped spirits. As reward, you have been granted 2 combat skill points.
“It’s dead,” he said.
Momentary silence. “How can you be sure?”
He fell quiet in turn. He was not sure if Cilantria knew he was a player. “The Game told me,” he said quietly.
The air around Kyran turn frigid and his breath came out in white puffs. Glancing down at his arm, he saw the mists encasing his form were solidifying into ice. He winced. The spectre was not happy.
“You are not a champion,” she said icily. It was not a question.
“I’m not,” he replied. He kept his own tone even, and let no hint of fear cloud his voice. “I am a free agent.” Sharing what he was with the spectre was risky, but he considered the danger greater if he left her to reach her own conclusions.
“I don’t understand. Explain,” she demanded.
He hesitated. Cilantria was a former priestess of Eld, he reminded himself. She had no more cause to love the gods than he did. He told her everything of how he had entered the Game and his run-ins with the gods. Cilantria listened patiently, only interrupting to ask the occasional question.
“So,” said Cilantria when he was done. Her anger had dissipated, he saw with relief. “That explains the mystery of the lockbox.”
Since he was watching the ice participles coating his armour disappear, Kyran almost missed her words. “What do you mean?”
He felt her attention turn to him. “Even now I can barely sense the artefact. I thought you had it shielded, but now I see the explanation is much more mundane. You have it stored in your inventory, don’t you?”
Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV) Page 16