The Pinnacle Warrior

Astrid stiffened as she looked behind her. It was strange enough that she was taken by surprise by someone’s appearance, but Muti too turned her head and it was obvious by her bearing that she hadn’t heard the approach either. That alone put Astrid on her absolute highest alert. The Wanderers turned and saw the Count and his party standing only a few meters away. Now, there were only six along with Caelum himself, and among his followers, only two had clear eyes. The others all carried themselves with their shoulders squared and with as competent a bearing as the rest, but they didn’t act like people, for lack of a better word.

“What are you doing here?” As Astrid asked it, she pushed a thread of mana into her helmet to protect herself. She had already seen this prig’s willingness to use his Skills on other people at the drop of a hat, and she would make sure she wasn’t so foolish as to give him an opportunity to sneak attack her. Fortunately, though the party had recently fought against two rocs in the open air, they had long since accustomed themselves to fighting the monsters on this floor since their arrival the day before and hadn’t exhausted themselves in this fight. What a shame, though.

Muti was less than 10,000 experience away from the next level, and that level would begin a cascade of the Wanderers passing the level 36 watershed. Already, everybody was preparing for the fight against the guardian of the forty-first floor, and they didn’t take the upcoming fight lightly. The few drakes that they had come across that had passed the watershed were markedly stronger than those only one level lower. The floor guardian, the matriarch of all those drakes on the floor, would be significantly stronger than the rest of its ilk. 

“The same thing as everybody else,” Caelum shrugged with frustrating nonchalance as he answered Astrid’s question. “How have you all been?”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship,” Astrid answered with a shake of her head. “Just say why you’re here, and as soon as you’re done, leave.”

Frankly, she considered it a remarkable show of her self–restraint that she didn’t make any threats or accusations as soon as he appeared. The way his face twisted up, it looked like she’d slapped his face, insulted his ancestry, and stolen his lover while she was at it, she’d been “so rude”. She didn’t really care. 

“You will address the Count with respect, wench!” The one who spoke was the frontliner who had used a Skill on the Wanderers back in the original camp up above ground. “You have been graced with a noble’s presence, cease this foolishness and gratefully accept his invitation.”

“Quit the theatrics,” Benedict snapped as he waved his hand dismissively in front of the frontliner. “You aren’t worth the mud on the bottom of my boot, so far as I’ve seen. People earn respect, and the Bestowal doesn’t dictate if you’re worthy of it. All I see is a slaver who walks in and uses people like tools before throwing them away like garbage, not some high and mighty noble who deserves anything but my derision.”

“And that’s small minded,” Caelum answered in a painfully even tone. “The people who are given noble Classes are the people who fund the military on every border. So too are they the people who maintain the roads between cities, as well as those who ensure that the Guild, even though you love and are a part of it, doesn’t turn Humanity’s Bulwark into a military state that lives underground in the Dungeon. Nobles ensure that people with non-combat Classes aren’t turned into the slaves of the people who can so much more easily gain levels and become superhuman. People with combat Classes serve as Humanity’s Bulwark, but those with noble Classes are the bulwark to the common man from those who gain strength so much more easily.”

Astrid felt her head pull back slightly at the surprisingly well-reasoned statement. Until she had become a delver, was she aware of any difficulties between the nobility and delvers or soldiers? No, not at all. She’d heard of the wars that Humanity frequently fought against their inHuman neighbors, but had she been heavily taxed to pay for those wars? Had she been conscripted and forced into being a soldier when she was given a Class that would make her well-suited for it? Yes, Caelum was using the good that people with his Class type did as a smokescreen for the atrocities he was actively committing, but he wasn’t wrong either.

“So me not wanting to become your slave is ‘small minded’?” Benedict scoffed. “No, it means that there might be some nobles who are good and worth keeping while you, barely entering Iron and already making a pest and fool of yourself, have become a monster not worth keeping around.”

In response to his words, both of the Count’s people bristled, those who retained some measure of control over themselves. The others remained standing where they had been, seemingly unable to understand the conversation that was happening in front of them.

“Yes, I’d rather not have to do this,” Caelum shrugged as he said it, and Astrid wondered if she could believe it. He’d always been deceitful, but if he didn’t want to be evil, that could make Astrid sympathize with him a little more. “I wish that everybody in our country was willing to work together to ensure that our borders remain secure, that our enemies remain thwarted, and our nation remains strong. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. As such, I’m forced to use methods that I don’t love to do what is necessary for my future as a leader of Humanity’s Bulwark.”

“You can say all you want,“ Astrid cut off Benedict as he went to continue to argue, “but you approached us, this isn’t a conversation that we decided to start with you. We don’t like you, we don’t want to be around you, and that isn’t going to change. So say what you’re going to say, and get lost.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Only in that moment did Astrid actually stop looking at his face and instead looked at his equipment. His breastplate was a shimmering gold, and after a second thought, Astrid came to the conclusion that it must be Dungeon gold. Different from Dungeon silver, Dungeon gold was a material exclusively used to strengthen Skills and spells or harbor enchantments while failing to serve as good armor or weapons. Obviously, the breastplate would help the Count somehow. A blind man with no ears could tell that the prissy boy with his well-tended hair in the Trials wasn’t a fighter, so the breastplate’s enchantments, whatever they were, would help him fight better. Under the breastplate, chain mail sleeves made of Dungeon silver poked out, and he wore finely filigreed Dungeon gold and silver greaves that could both protect him while amplifying his abilities. He carried no weapons of war, no helmet or hat, and Astrid was sure that his armor was more than high enough quality to push him nearly to mana poisoning.

“Very well, if you don’t wish to engage in pleasantries,” Caelum said as he stretched a hand towards Astrid. “Won’t you come closer? I have something for you.”

As soon as he said, it, the slow trickle of mana that had been consumed by Astrid‘s helmet spiked. At least a fifth of her total mana disappeared from the single Skill he tried to use. His casual confidence slipped away with a frown of consternation as he seemed to feel his Skill failed to achieve its intended effect.

“That’s strange. You shouldn’t have been able to resist that,” the arrogant noble grumbled as if the Wanderers couldn’t hearing. “Please, come closer.”

Instead of a request, it was a command of this time, and Astrid’s mana fell by nearly a third in response. As she managed to successfully resist, Caelum’s face fell, and he whipped towards Muti, his body language not nearly so relaxed as before as he commanded in such a way that had the air vibrating around them.

“You, come. Now.”

Different from Astrid, Muti’s abilities were obviously not well suited for her to resist an attack like this. She tried to fight it, but she stiffened and walked towards Caelum before anybody else could react.

What vestiges of patience Astrid had maintained until then immediately disappeared, and she hurried forward to grab Muti by the base of her neck before she could get too close to the hostile Count. She shook the Barbarian once, firmly, and it seemed to snap her out of the Skill’s influence. The rest of her party, however, didn’t stay still either. Benedict had his flute out, already playing Song of Vindication and making the Count’s party wince in pain while Skandr’s cloud more than quadrupled in size and flew into the air overhead. Thunder rumbled as Skandr began channeling spells, though he held himself back from releasing them.

Felix‘s threat was more literal as he drew his axe, activated Guardian’s Wrath, and flashed forward to stand beside the angry frontliner. His foe started to move, to react, to fight back, but Felix didn’t hesitate to swing his weapon down and cut off the other man’s hand. The enemy screamed in pain but held himself back as Caelum looked around, his eyes widening.

“If I see you again—” Astrid began to threaten, but the noble stopped any pretense as if he spread his hands and used a different Skill. Astrid felt the desire to submit to her enemy swell within her, and as her protective mana from her helmet drew on the dregs of her mana, she started to do as he said. Fortunately, the influence faded for a moment, so she used two charges of Body and reactivated her mental protections. Nothing changed in front of them as the Count sagged and then blinked disbelievingly at the four people who resisted his influence. Muti slumped where she stood, still standing but entirely limp otherwise. Whatever Caelum had done had left her unable to resist whatever was happening. 

Again, the rest of the party supported each other, though Astrid was a little surprised to see Felix able to resist the Skill as well, though she shouldn’t have, given that his Self-Mastery was over 100. As the Count realized that his plan was entirely unsuccessful, he started to step back, signaling for the rest of his party to protect him, but the fool had jumped into the deeps of a lake expecting a puddle. Escape wasn’t so simple. Astrid firmly shook Muti once again, and she saw the moment the Barbarian regained herself. Then, she snarled and ducked behind Astrid. Astrid felt her eyebrows raise, amazed that the barbarian would choose to defensively protect herself instead of rush into battle.

Then Muti disappeared from behind her and reappeared in the middle of the Count’s party.

Two blades flickering with shadow sliced forward at Caelum. A shimmering golden barrier appeared around his neck, where the blades would cross, and Caelum’s face twisted in terror as he tried to defend himself. He had no prayer of survival. Muti was an Ambusher, and him, her prey. 

Subordinating Count slain. 2,325 experience gained, split among party.

The automatic protections flickered and died as the man’s head fell even before Muti needed to strike again, and Astrid pursed her lips as the kill notification flashed in her eyes. She didn’t disagree with the choice her friend had made, but the repercussions they would have to face would be painful, to say the least. and the first of those came in the form of the two party members who had retained their sensibility and were now standing in front of at least five people who’d decided they would die.

“What have you done! You’ve doomed us all! We will be lucky to be killed.”

Astrid didn’t care about the frontliner’s distress as he screamed and wailed, instead looking at the other four delvers who’d been brought along with Caelum’s delve. What happened if a noble who had subjected others to their will was killed? Would the survivors be harmed? Would they even die? Astrid had seen the results of somebody’s oath forcing death upon them, and couldn’t know if this would be any different. She was relieved as the people in front of her slowly blinked the confusion from their eyes, but she couldn’t speak with them as Muti threw herself at the screaming frontliner.

Felix beat her to it, and since he had already chopped the man’s hand off, he already had the advantage. As soon as Caelum died, the frontliner and the other, a mage of some sort, both began raving and spitting, becoming only approximations of people. Apparently, they’d only maintained their rationality because of the Count’s presence. Now, Felix smashed his axe down again and again as the other Frontliner, whose Class they didn’t know, grunted and a phantom of an ox appeared behind him.

“Tauren’s Blessing,” Astrid guessed. “If so, he’ll be tough and strong for a little while.”

Felix didn’t say anything in response, instead turning his body from the other man’s mace that swung towards him. Then, in a fit of uncharacteristic verbal rage, he screamed.

“Do you think that you’re special? Do you think that you deserve to make people your slaves? I don’t care how you got here! Your villain! Evil! Bastards!”

Every word he said was punctuated by another swing of his axe, and the difference in quality between his Class and the other man’s was obvious as, even without using Jaguar’s Pride, he overwhelmed his enemy. He was surprised when the other frontliner used an attention drawing Skill that slowed him, and took a single hit to his wounded side. He groaned in agony from the hit, but continued fighting. Before Benedict could begin his support, though, one of the survivors glowed with a holy light, and Astrid realized she recognized Chloe.

The healing made Felix’s body glow, though he didn’t seem to recover his footing. In fact, he struggled even more, suddenly, gasping as the healing washed over him and intensified.

“Astrid!” He called out with a grunt, and she didn’t need any more of a reason to step forward. There was no real need to make a decision between supporting her friend and ally, and a man who supported somebody who wanted to enslave them all. 

Astrid charged forward with her shield raised, batting aside the frontliner’s defenses and smashing her hammer into his ribs. Even through his Skills, whatever they were, he folded over, and Astrid felt bile in her throat as she raised her hammer again.

“I’m sorry.”

Count’s Knight slain. 2,000 experience gained, split among party.

As the man’s corpse fell, Astrid looked at the remaining original member of that party. He wore robes that looked more like they belonged to a minister in a castle than to a man in the Wandering Trials. When he saw everyone looking at him, his knees shook and the rod he held in his hand clattered out of his grip. Seeing a surrendering enemy, Astrid couldn’t bring herself to do anything to him, but Muti had no such qualms. She rushed forward, and though Astrid began to say something, Muti let loose a flurry of attacks that the man lost the ability to resist and another kill notification flashed in her vision.

Count’s Steward slain. 2,000 experience gained, split among party.

“They do not provide additional experience due to being in the Trials,” Muti shrugged as she cleaned her blades. Even so, she didn’t stow them and instead looked at the other four newcomers. Before she could continue intimidating the people who’d just escaped slavery, Astrid spoke.

“You just murdered two people.”

“And you killed another.” There was nothing forced about Muti’s lack of care as she said it. 

“I kinda wish you’d talked to me before you went killing people,” Astrid said.

“Did he not wish to make us slaves?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

“Then I killed him. I believe I understand some of your qualms for killing in this case, but if one is threatened with slavery, they are threatened with the erasure of the self. If you are confronted with slavery, you fight to the death, that of the slaver, or yourself. Slavery is not a fate to joke about or a threat to make lightly. He threatened me, and my freedom was in danger. It ended that I am more dangerous than in danger.”

Astrid sighed, but before she could continue the conversation, Chloe stepped up next to her.

“Astrid, right?” The Healer’s voice quivered as she spoke.

“Yes,” Astrid replied, thinking about dismissing her helmet for a second but deciding against it.

“Oh, good,” Chloe’s voice cracked as she said it. Then, without another word, she leaned forward and wrapped Astrid in her arms. 

“Skandr, Felix,” Astrid called out as she came to a decision that may just be the stupidest thing she’d done that day. When the two men looked at her, she asked, “Can you keep an eye out for now?”

When they nodded, Astrid dismissed not just her helmet but her entire set of equipment as she resettled the distraught Healer in her arms. As soon as she was surrounded by the much softer flesh than armor, Chloe melted further, soul-wrenching sobs wracking her body as she shook in the Warrior’s arms. With each of the sounds, aStrid regretted this course of action less, and though the others stood nearby not nearly so affected, they too glared hatefully at the corpses on the ground. It didn’t take long before Aaron, the leader of one of the parties, drew a sword and began desecrating the Count’s corpse.

The Wanderers let them all to their mourning. They could get their answers later.