The Pinnacle Warrior

The sudden question took Astrid by such surprise that she had to choke back a giggle of surprise. For maybe a second, she considered what her answer should be. Her name? The name of the party, which still hasn’t been decided? Her goal?

“My name is Astrid Warrior and this is my party. And you are?”

“I am Kalta of Hrackthan’s Horde. You are the leader of your party?” The man who spoke stepped forward, his weapon nowhere to be found. For a brief moment, Astrid thought he might be a Pugilist, Monk, or other fistfighting Class, but while there were scars on his hands, they weren’t those of somebody who beat monsters to death with bare fists. She decided she’d consider him to have dismissed his weapon just as she had, only out of her sight. 

Looking at him, Kalta was well over 250 centimeters tall, towering over Astrid and Muti both. His hair glinted in the faint light, initially appearing white until Astrid realized it was, in fact, silver. Every inch of the Barbarian was corded in thick muscle, and that he was shirtless made that immensely obvious. Scars patterned his body, most of which were curling, thick things, obviously treated mostly by allowing the body to repair itself. He, and the rest of his party, now that she looked at them, was, other than very muscular, almost dangerously thin. Evidently, they didn’t have a deep repository of food, making Astrid once again more grateful for what the Guild had provided them.

“Yes, this is my party. Now, since we’re talking, I need to know why you’re here. I recognize we’re not allies or friends, but I also don’t know if I can simply let it slide that your companion attacked one of mine.”

“I am not here to talk with you.” Kalta’s voice was dismissive. “I will speak with your Barbarian. For your benefit, I have come and spoken in your tongue. Interrupt no more.”

Astrid had known Muti for a long time now. Years. That familiarity had made Astrid much more willing to see Barbarians as people, not just the enemies who tortured her father. This one’s pride and derision? It brought back that old rage, and Astrid didn’t try to hold it back.

“If you’re willing to start a fight for your pride when one of your five is out of commission, you’re free to do so,” she barked as she stepped in front of Muti. “But you’re not going to throw me aside as if I’m some ant below your notice. If you want to interact with my party, I’m a part of it. If Muti would like to speak with you, she can, she’s her own person. We’re here to outperform you in the Trials, and don’t think that we’ll take disrespect simply because I’m willing to engage with you like a person.”

Kalta cocked his head and leaned forward, seeming to look at Astrid in truth for the first time. Through her helmet’s featureless mask, Astrid couldn’t tell what he was trying to do, but he sniffed deeply twice, and then nodded.

“You may have some Barbarian blood in you, there is some wildness to you. You are not one of us, but you take after the Barbarian side more than others with some of our blood. I can smell it. Do you want me to bring you to my Horde and baptize you to grow stronger? All it would take is a pledge of fealty.”

The whiplash between dismissive and headhunting had Astrid almost stumbling back. She scoffed and shook her head. “I’m a Human. The Great One has declared it, and that’s not going to change. Speak with Muti if you must, then be on your way.”

The massive Barbarian shrugged and turned his attention to Muti, his actions and thought process leaving Astrid on the back foot and so confused that she didn’t know how to react. Kalta spoke to Muti as he squinted at her.

“You are Muti. The name is common enough to not serve as an absolute testament of an answer, but I believe I know you. You are from the litter two before me, and were cast out as useless after a failed trial of worth.” Nothing he said was framed as a question, though his words might have been one coming from another’s voice. Instead, it was a statement of what he had come to decide was the truth, whether it was or not. Muti didn’t leave him in suspense, though.

“I am Muti.“ She didn’t give any more information, but it was, apparently, enough.

“You do not belong here.” His statement was firm.

“I have earned the right by combat and by experience to be here,” Muti hissed back. “I am more than worthy!”

“That is obvious. Though two summers my elder, age carries no weight but experience. You have proved yourself by entering the Trials and then besting the greatest Assassin that Hrackthan’s Horde had to offer at the top of Bronze. You can take his place, return with us to the Horde once we emerge victorious from the Wandering Trials. I can vouch for you upon our victory to facilitate your return.”

“Your word will mean nothing to the Hordemaster,” Muti shook her head. “Your words are kind but meaningless.”

“I have evolved to Berserker Leader. My words carry weight.”

That particular sentence didn’t mean anything to Astrid, but given the way that Muti stiffened in response, that was important information.

“Your words are not meaningless.” Muti bowed her head as she spoke. “I will not abandon those who have been my allies for years based off of a few words, but I will remember what you have said.”

“If that is your decision, then we can speak further when next we encounter each other. If this is a party that you consider to be your equals here, then we shall find ourselves competing in the same vicinities for a while yet, I am sure.”

Kalta nodded as he said that, and gestured for one of his people to minister to the unconscious Assassin on the ground. The man who stepped forward carried what seemed to be the only large pack to be found among the Barbarians. Surprisingly, there was a scar down the center of his forehead to the tip of his nose, and though Astrid didn’t know what exactly that meant, she did know that facial scars certainly meant something among the Barbarians. The pack-wearing man raised his left hand to his mouth, where he bit his index finger’s knuckle deep enough that blood began to course over his fist.

Astrid, Skandr, Benedict, and Felix looked on in confusion, but the others didn’t seem to mind, watching as the man watched his fist until it was coated in his own blood. Then, he raised his clenched hand and smashed it down into the unconscious man’s chest. The thudding strike had Astrid wondering if this was some sort of a ritual sacrifice for his failure to gain victory over Muti or something, but the blood puffed into mist and then floated into the man’s chest. He shuddered for maybe two seconds before he opened his eyes wide and sat bolt upright. Astrid could see that on his jaw, where the imprints of studs had remained, there was now only healthy skin.

He glared at Muti for one second before standing and bowing his head to her.

“Skliath alt hoolsth.”

“Pliess alt krul,” came Muti’s reply.

Though Astrid hadn’t heard the words in this language for a good time, she understood the intonation when Muti spoke it: Victory before death, blood before affection. A rallying term that the Barbarian used frequently enough, but was quickly forgotten. As Astrid came to that realization, Kalta nodded to Muti and asked something in the Barbarians’ tongue that Astrid didn’t understand. Muti gave her response and Kalta gestured for his party to follow him and led them away.

Several seconds passed and Muti relaxed enough that the rest of the party followed suit. Before anyone could ask anything, Muti translated that final exchange.

“He was asking if all of my answers were truthful when he spoke to me before. I confirmed as much, and he went on his way.”

“Okay, but you’re not actually going to go with them, right?” Felix was the first to speak, his tone incredulous. “They kicked you out of your home! They scarred your face and the strong ones that we saw outside of the Trials thought you were worthless, so why does this one bastard matter at all? You’re here with us, your friends, we’re delving with you, and are you actually considering leaving us for these people?”

“Whoa there, you crazy man, calm down,” Benedict reached out and slapped Felix heavily on the back of the head. Fortunately for Benedict, Felix had dismissed his helmet to speak and look Muti in the face, otherwise the Bard might’ve broken his hand. As it was, Felix’s head barely shifted forward as he continued staring at Muti.

“Felix, she’s an adult, she’s a person, she can make her own decisions, and instead of making demands, maybe we talk like adults, huh?” Benedict grabbed Felix by the earlobe and pulled down as the Guardian continued to build himself into a fury. “That said, I really would prefer you not to leave, and I would like to know why you gave the answer that you did.”

Astrid, surprised that she hadn’t had to say anything yet, remained silent and tried to look as nonjudgmentally at Muti as she could manage. The golden haired woman nodded slowly as she dismissed her own helmet. Astrid decided to consider that to be a win as Muti showed her face.

“I have never made it a secret that my goal for growing stronger is to return to the Horde I was cast out from. This may be an opportunity for me to do so, and I cannot deny it out of hand.” As Felix opened his mouth to say something, Muti hissed like a cat at him. “I permitted you to speak your whole mind to me. Give me that same courtesy.”

Felix had the sense to look properly abashed by that, and nodded in response. Mollified, Muti continued, “This is a possibility that I will entertain, but I do not believe I will do so at this time. To go along with Kalta’s suggestion would be to re-enter the Horde under the control and rule of Kalta. He would be my keeper, and I would have no choice but to follow his every desire. No doubt, I would end up within his harem and party. That is not a bad life, but I wish to re-enter the Hordes on my own merit, not that of another.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that this would mean, and you wouldn’t really mind the idea, that you end up being some concubine in a harem?” Benedict‘s voice was incredulous. “You’re genuinely considering the possibility of just becoming his breed mare or whatever?”

“It is not a bad option,” Muti repeated. “He was Bestowed with the Berserker Class, but retains enough control of himself and trust of his subordinates to evolve into a Berserker Leader. If he is willing to continue to temper himself, as he seems to be doing right now, he will become either the successor of an existing Horde or will create one of his own. To tie myself indelibly to someone with a remarkable future is not a poor option, though it is not the one I would prefer. There are others who will do so and will find great happiness in it.”

“You don’t think that Astrid has a great future? That any of us have a great future?” Felix demanded. “Yes, this will take you back to your people, but do you have to stay there? This would be selling yourself to someone you don’t know, someone who’s younger than you and apparently knows who you were before you were thrown out? It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“It is not a bad thing to belong to someone who cares for you. After all, what is you Humans’ marriage if not the act of selling oneself to the other, for the other to treasure and care for? What was presented to me was a proposal of respect, born of my strength and my capability, weighed against the promise of his future and his present. I will consider it, and nothing you say will change that. If this does give you some measure of comfort, I do not believe that I would ever take him up on his offer unless he proves himself to be sufficiently impressive here in the Trials.”

Muti spoke with finality, her tone not unkind, but entirely unmovable. Astrid watched as Felix’s lips pursed, Benedict’s jaw hung open, and Skandr scratched at the scar on his face. Feeling that she hadn’t said anything and probably should, Astrid stepped forward and clapped Muti on the shoulder.

“I can’t say that I really understand your view on this whole harem thing, but we established over a year ago that I don’t understand and I don’t need to understand much of what comes in your past. Regardless of everything else, you’re my friend. Muti, I like you, I like being around you, even if I don’t understand your history and why you do what you do sometimes. If you think this is a good option, I won’t try to stop you, but I will disagree with it as the best option available. I want to delve with you through all of Iron, through Steel if we can keep up with each other, and beyond. However, we all already know that my goal is different from everyone else’s here. I’ve always wanted to ascend to Arcanite, and that means I’m going to live a life that is largely delving and fighting, something I’ve only truly come to understand over the past year or so. If that’s not the life you want, I can’t force you to stay though I want you on that journey with me.”

“I am happy with you, leader. If nothing changes drastically in the near future, we shall continue to fight beside each other for years to come.” Muti gave her response, then turned and walked in the direction that she thought the exit from the floor was. Astrid idly noted that the Barbarian party had gone in a different direction than Muti was leading, but didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna let her leave?“ Felix asked as he walked beside Astrid. “Just… let her walk away?”

“If that’s what she chooses? Yeah. I don’t want her to do it, and I’ll probably try to convince her to stick around if she says that she’s going, but I’m not her owner. I’m not her lover. I’m not her parent or commander. I’m the leader of the party that she’s in, and if she chooses that she’s not in the party any more, there’s only really my words that I can rely on. I’m not going to trust my back to somebody that I’m forcing to be there.”

Felix grimaced and continued walking. Astrid shook her head and continued on her path, taking note of Benedict and Skandr’s own confusion as they walked. The fight to get to the twentieth floor was coming soon, and discussions that largely didn’t matter for continuing to progress in the Trials were nothing more than a distraction for now.

***

Kalta

“You lowered yourself to speak with an outcast, to offer her sanctuary, and she didn’t jump on the opportunity? Perhaps she is strong, but she is twice the fool as well.”

“Liora, is that jealousy I hear?” Kalta kept his tone even as he spoke to the beautiful woman. She held her javelin in hand, glaring in the direction of Muti and her party. The Piercer had gained an unremarkable, if potent Class at her evolution, and had obviously been banking on leveraging her experience alongside him in the Trials to become one of, if not the primary concubine in his harem when they returned to the surface. That there was another outcast but wildly effective and potent, who was granted his favor, she, of course, felt that her position had been threatened. It was a position that had never been promised her, but remained one that she considered hers nonetheless.

“No! It is merely concern for your dignity!“ She backpedaled quickly, hoping for the infamous Berserker rage to not rear its head. It was a valid concern, all Berserkers had that primal need to lash out constantly thrashing in the back of their minds. It all depended on how much you fed that need, though, and, just like his own state right now, Kalta kept his rage, sharp, controlled, and hungry. It was a weapon, not an unruly soldier. It could not make choices for itself. 

“Do not concern yourself with my dignity. I am the leader of our party, I am the Berserker, and I am in control. Do not presume to lead where you should follow.“

Liora about her head, dismissing her javelin’s as she fell to her knees before him.“Yes, of course. I beg for forgiveness.”

“Do not beg, improve,” was his response, and Kalta rolled his shoulders as his axes appeared in his hands. He’d deliberately led his party astray, giving the interesting “Human” party a brief edge. After all, when his party caught back up to them after giving them a head start, it could be another opportunity to recruit Muti. She’d always been impressive as a child, the one that every instructor told his litter to learn from. Her Bestowal’s “Rogue” Class was gone and now that she was Iron, she’d overcome the disadvantages of her original Class, gaining something obviously potent instead.

Yes, she would be a good companion.

***

“Once we’re used to the twentieth floor, we’re pushing through as fast as we can, right?” Astrid asked as the nineteenth floor’s guardians rattled to the ground. These ghouls were not commanders, but instead were level 26 ghoul shredders, and the two of them together had been surprisingly difficult to deal with. With Astrid incapable of using her finishing Skill on them, the party had instead taken a more traditional approach to this fight. The ghouls fought hard and fast, and with the level difference, were much closer to the party in attributes. Fortunately, Felix had thrown himself into the fight, pulling attention and diverting attacks with a furious grace and precision. With a good frontliner, Skandr had used lightning to smite both ghouls from above, and the lightning weakened their bodies enough that Muti and Astrid had quickly dispatched the beasts.

“I certainly hope so,” Benedict said. “I’m sick of dealing with these skeletons, and I’m getting to the point that I really need to supplement my supplies with things we forage and hunt.”

The rest of the party echoed similar sentiments, and it wasn’t long before they all had come to the conclusion that they were going to go ahead and push as fast as they could. As they walked through the stairway onto the twentieth floor, the cloudy, dark night greeted them. A swarm of 40 skeletons ran forward, and Astrid smiled, wondering just how long it was going to be before she got her next level.