The Pinnacle Warrior

Dragging the massive corpse through the seven floors to the surface was an exercise in self-control and frustration. Frustration, Astrid thought, was self-explanatory, but the self control? They’d only cut the most valuable parts free from the corpse, and keeping the body more whole would be better, if they could manage it. Thus, self-control, that, by the minute, Astrid had to remind herself to keep. 

Astrid, as well as the rest of the Wanderers, found they couldn’t move nearly so quickly as before while carrying what had to be several tons of wyvern corpse behind them. Several times, the other, still living wyverns nearby took notice of what they were doing, and decided to look for either vengeance or easy prey. Whatever their reasoning was, they were, fortunately, still regular wyverns and were quickly dispatched where an irregular would have been a much tougher fight. The nightmares, when they stumbled across the party, had charged, but didn’t pose much of a threat.

The single greatest difficulty they faced in ascending from the Dungeon branch with their prize in tow, was getting it up the stairs. When they fought the thing, as well as decapitating it and amputating its legs and most of its tail, most of the blood was drained away. Unfortunately, that was only most, and as Astrid was made to stand in the back and push on the corpse’s hips, she was quickly soaked with the thick, pungent blood. Despite gagging and wanting to give up, knowing that Skandr would be able to at least wash her off with only a few seconds of preparation was enough to keep her pushing as the body squeezed through the turns.

“If the damn thing was alive,” Benedict said, acting as if the words were actually useful, “it could probably twist and make sure that it got up without too much difficulty.”

Nobody said anything to him, and just the sounds of grunts of effort echoed through the stairway as Felix said something that was welcome: “The surface is close. Half a twist remains.”

Astrid allowed herself some measure of comfort at that, her feet slick with the blood that coated the floor. Fortunately, Indomitability helped keep her stance as she ascended and Body Surge gave her strength to push through tight squeezes. She was the only one of the five in the back, with all of the other four at the neck at the top, pulling as hard as they could and adjusting the carcass to move as smoothly as they could all manage.

When they finally emerged from the stairway, it looked like the scene of a brutal murder. Blood covered both walls and dripped down the stairs in a steady fountain, and none of them could bring themselves to care. Astrid walked forward as soon as the last of the monster’s hips passed through the doorway and shook herself in disgust. Staring at Skandr, Astrid didn’t have to say a word as he went through the quick incantations to make a cloud dense with water.

The other four members of the party, even Benedict, who Astrid had been mentally cursing, were covered at least up to their elbows and knees with blood, their torsos splattered with it as well. Astrid, as the only person below the corpse, though, was the most covered in it, and she could have wept in gratitude at the spell that Skandr used to clean her.

Walking out of the shower, Astrid knew that there was still plenty more that would need to be done, real scrubbing, to get her truly clean but for now, she wasn’t quite so coated in the sticky stuff. Then, there was nothing to do but to repeat the same process six more times. Fortunately, the thirty to forty kilometers that they dragged the corpse through to the next floor slowly drained most of the rest of the blood from the corpse, so when they emerged onto the fifth floor, Astrid was merely sprayed with blood, instead of painted with it.

Eventually, after about a full day of just dragging the body and fighting whatever wouldn’t leave them alone, the party emerged onto the mountain where the entrance into the Dungeon branch was. Astrid slapped the rump of the corpse in good riddance as she rolled her shoulders and forced her muscles to loosen. After spending so much time doing such hard physical labor, Astrid and the rest of the party had actually taken at least two charges of Physique and hour to be able to keep moving. It was hard work, and nothing about the environment they hiked through was at all helpful to the journey. The stumps on the floors were hazards that the corpse was constantly getting stuck in and the stairs needed no further explanation.

On the surface, most of the muttered or shouted curses were replaced with grunts of relief, and Astrid allowed herself an easy smile. Of course, Astrid recovered faster than the rest of the party, and she’d noticed as a root from a Verdant Walker stretched out to touch her.

This is the first complete body that you have brought up. Has the surge at all manifested?

“So you knew it was coming?” Astrid fought to keep from snapping. “Why didn’t you warn us?”

She had to put very real effort into not losing any semblance of self-control on the Warden in front of her. Flashes of Klara and Greely neglecting to give her information that could have kept her safe. Instead, she  kept her eyes narrowed and her mouth closed.

We were warned of its approach, but the Root Prophet that was able to come was only barely Steel tier. We apologize for our failure. It would appear that their understanding of the surge’s influence only becoming noticeable one week from now was incorrect. Further, you have our apologies. It is easy to forget that you do not have the same connection with our people that we do. That information that I simply knew without being told was something that you lacked any notice regarding. I apologize.

Astrid paused, some of the mysteries regarding the way that the Verdant Walkers were able to learn things getting information that she’d guessed that but haven’t been confirmed until now. She nodded her head and asked, “So all Verdant Walkers can hear what others are thinking all the time?“

No. There are, however, threads of important information that can be deliberately added to that are then accessible to the rest of our people. The information regarding this surge was one that we discovered over one month ago, before your arrival here. As such, it was easy for me to forget that you had never been warned of this. As a further explanation, that knowledge of the impending surge is the reason for which I have been insistent on your quick completion of the culling.

Instead of voicing frustration at what seemed to be an honest, understandable mistake, Astrid nodded and accepted the apology while taking deep, calming breaths. She’d been given new information, which was valuable, and she’d just count that  as a win for now and, in the future, ask wardens if there was anything she needed to know before she started delving. Instead of asking for more of an explanation, she asked, “What kinds of changes will be occurring in this branch now?”

There will be the presence of the irregulars, as well as the increased levels. I will not give you any guarantees on the accuracy of this, as there is another Prophet who will be coming soon, and they will be able to, as a Mithril tier, give more accurate information. Our preliminary estimations by the Steel tier Prophet are placing the variation of levels to be an increase of seven. Regardless of the error in their timeline, I would trust the peak of the surge as they estimated, but that is up for you to decide.

“And what kinds of mutations will be commonly found?” Astrid asked, deciding not to take anything as the truth just yet. “This one had two arms, which they wouldn’t usually, so what other variations can we expect? What’s going to happen to the nightmares as well?”

This is a surge connected to the Dungeon proper, somewhat. However, instead of mutating, the monsters won’t become more like the monsters found on the connected floor. Instead, each irregular will be a step towards evolving to a higher echelon of monster. In the case of the wyvern, it is a step towards evolving into true dragons, as seen on its body. For the nightmares, the irregulars may become centaurs or bear riders. Both types will be present as the surge reaches its peak.

Astrid nodded her thanks and said, “We’ll be taking this back to Neverwood, and will probably return here in the next day. By that time, will the new Prophet have come and given their estimation of the branch’s surge?”

Perhaps. If not after that point, within the next day after that. Despite being a Mithril tier, the Prophets do not move with a Grove, and their voyages are always slower than those who walk with a Grove.

There was something about the tone of the Warden‘s words that seemed to communicate… something, but Astrid couldn’t place it. Instead of pressing her question, though, Astrid nodded again, gave her thanks, and turned to look at the body. It was already midday, a full day after having begun to drag the massive thing up here, and the party was, at best, tired.

“Benedict,” Astrid said, a grin teasing at the corner of her mouth, “I’ll leave the decision up to you. Do you think we should push hard and try to get this all the way to Neverwood before nightfall? Or should we set up camp here and go in the morning?”

“Ugh,” Benedict wiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “On one hand, I get to take a break. On the other, I might be able to sleep in a real bed tonight. But that means I have to work hard again.”

“I can’t help but notice that,” Skandr laughed, “even as you complain, you’re standing up and getting ready to keep moving.”

“Just because I want to take a break and take advantage of my divinely given right to complain doesn’t mean that I don’t know what I want more than to get a little break in right now,” Benedict shook his head. “I’m looking forward to getting some sleep in a real bed instead of a cot, and I don’t mind if it ends up being closer to midnight when we get there to get it. That said, let’s get going.“ A part of Astrid had hoped he wouldn’t be quite so set on getting to sleep in a bed, and they’d be able to take a break, but it wasn’t to be.

“At least this takes a long enough time,” Astrid said with a grunt as she got to the front of the wyvern, and got a good grasp on the monster’s neck, “that I can help you all out with plenty of charges of Physique.”

“Yes,” Muti agreed as she stepped forward and took hold of the remains of the wyvern’s shoulder. “Skills that are meant for battle can sometimes be valuable in day-to-day life.”

The rest of the party made sounds of agreement as Astrid shared a charge of Physique with her friends. Then, without any further conversation, they began their journey towards the settlement. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they were reminded that the small trail they made their way through was one made by small game, not a massive dragon, and they were forced to reckon with the reality that this would be the hardest part of their journey. Constantly, the limbs were touching the trees and slowing their advance.

Hours passed, each one more frustrating than last. When they reached the juncture with the path to Neverwood, the quietly grumbled curses that had become more common among the five reached a crescendo. Instead of a narrow but well traveled game trail, their new path was a painfully cramped journey that would be impossible with the cargo they carried, and Astrid took one look at it, hung her head, cursed, and looked at Muti.

“Do you want to go find Olafson and try to bring him here, see if he has something that can carry this? Or do you want me to?”

Muti blew a strand of hair out of her face, her hair no longer in a warbraid. “I believe it would be best for you to go,“ she eventually said, and Astrid nodded.

“Then I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, looking at the rest of her party as they slumped to sit and rest wherever they wanted. Despite having full access to Physique, and having her passive recovery being much higher than the rest, Astrid felt a surge of envy at them being able to take a break. She shook that thought from her head, turned towards the path, and started running.

Her steps thundered through the path, and she enjoyed the opportunity to rush with over 500 points of Alacrity throwing her forward without having to concern herself with monsters. That thought slowly drained from her as she realized that there was a good chance that there would be wyverns spawning on the surface with the surge, but she chose not to think about that right now. After all, she’d have plenty of time before that happened, and even then, this is not her country, that was not her problem. Once the party had finished clearing two more floors, they were officially free to get into the Dungeon itself and start delving there if they wanted to.

But would it be worth it to do that when there was triple experience waiting for them in the branch that they were leaving behind? After all, getting over 1,000 experience each from a single kill was intoxicating to return to. It didn’t quite compare to the rush of experience from the Trials, but it was more than enough to enjoy compared to regular delving.

That was as far as her thoughts could take her before she had crossed the dozen kilometers or so to get to the settlement. Pollock had attempted to appear beside her at one point, but she moved fast enough that she felt she had a good enough excuse to say that she hadn’t seen him. After all, it was just a bird that had flown across her path, and then she was gone. She had never met the man in person, just his companions, or familiars, she supposed.

“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice demanded just as she stepped into the settlement. There stood Pollock, she supposed, a surprisingly small Barbarian man. Small, at least, for a Barbarian, standing maybe 190 centimeters tall. His shock of red hair was filled with gaps where scars patterned his scalp, and his face was heavily scarred as well. He wore no shirt, only a cape made of some sort of scaled leather, and his torso was covered with a thick burn or acid scar. His sharp teeth and pointed ears were the only part of his heritage that remained unmarred, the rest of his dark skin almost shiny with how many testaments to past battles he bore.

“Nothing’s wrong, not really,“ Astrid replied. She saw as the man, who stood with his arms wide and fists clenched, relaxed slightly, and his face fell from anxious to relieved to angry.

“Then what are you doing sprinting through the forest all alone, you idiot?” he demanded. “Someone only does that when there’s something seriously wrong!”

“Or they’re in a hurry,” Astrid retorted. “I was running, but I wasn’t sprinting, I wasn’t yelling for help, I wasn’t damaging things. Doesn’t seem like an emergency to me. What’s the problem if I run somewhere? Is that some rule that exists in the Neverwood? If so, why did nobody ever tell me that I am, for some reason, not allowed to be in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“It’s not the donething,” he insisted.

“So, I’m sorry if I scared you,” Astrid said, ignoring his latest statement, “I was just in a little bit of a hurry because I wanted to talk to Olafson about something. Now, if you don’t need anything from me, I’m gonna go. I appreciate you looking out for your people, but it’s fine, be at ease.”

She stepped past the man with a nod, only then realizing that there were a dozen heads poking out of various windows and doorways to watch the argument. Among them, Vera twisted her fingers in a wave at Astrid, who hung her head and sighed. Then, she continued on her way to the trading post, where Olafson stood at the doorway and chuckled.

“I hear you’re coming to speak with me. Where’s everybody else?”

“I just have a quick question,“ she said without preamble and not answering his question directly. “Are you interested in most of the body of a level 61 irregular wyvern? We have the whole thing, but we’ve been dragging the body and have realized that getting it through the path here is going to be nearly impossible without a larger spatial pouch than we’ve got. So, have you got a solution for this? Or should we just get it somewhere and let it rot?”

“Why do they never tell anybody about the surges,” Olafson grumbled to himself, more of a statement than a question. Then, he rolled his shoulders back and looked up at Astrid. “Yes, I’m interested. I’ve got a pouch, give me maybe thirty seconds, then we’ll be on our way and I’ll pick it up for you.”

Astrid didn’t say anything, only nodded as he ducked into the back room for even less time than he’d promised and then reappeared.

“Then let’s go,” Astrid said, turning on her heel and leading the way.

***

“That’s pretty damn big,” Olafson breathed as he looked at the thing. “Good thing I’ve got a special pouch just for huge deliveries. But I’m surprised none of you have gotten one big enough to fit this. Why do you all have smaller ones instead of one big one? Aren’t you a team?”

“We haven’t had the opportunity to buy anything since we entered the Trials as Bronze tiers,” Astrid shrugged. “This all is what the Guild gave us and nothing more. I can’t imagine that they thought it was worth it to give us a larger pouch, otherwise they would have.”

“Yeah, the cost of that grows very quickly,” Olafson agreed as he took his pouch and scooped the corpse up with an easy movement. “The cost of a pouch usually triples to quadruples each time it doubles in size. But, I would tell you, you should look into getting some bigger ones when you have the opportunity, you should have the funds to be able to do so before long and Steel tiers spend more time in the Dungeon. Better have a pouch that can store a valuable monster.”

“So how valuable is this?” Benedict changed the subject. “I’d be pretty unhappy if we did all this work and it’s not worth anything in the end.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Olafson scoffed. “Putting aside the organs found in here and their own value, since you said you have the tail, which has the venom gland, and the head, which has draconic properties, as well as the legs? You’ve got a couple more pieces of Steel tier equipment coming your way soon.”

“How soon?” Astrid smiled. 

“I’ve got them in the back at home,” he said by way of answer.

With that possibility in front of them, the party all basically skipped all the way back to the Neverwood,  excited to see what the Craftsman had in store for them.