Some legendary weapons seem to imbue skills upon their owners. The details surrounding it have unfortunately been classified.

  - WSA Head Chronicler Normand -

  My eyes throb as I fall to my knees, gripped with strange vision. Shadows dance everywhere, and my ears ring. I spew my breakfast onto the ground. A voice behind me is dulled yet familiar. Pain, excruciating pain, from my eyes, burning through my head, pulsing from my arm… from Abyss. What is it doing to me?

  Lights begin to swim in the shadows. Nearest me, on my hand is a now blinding sparkling of flexing starlight in the shape of the ring, I pull it from my eyes, putting it underneath my knee. Coming from the familiar voice of Dorliac, I see a pendant around her neck, it shimmers blue. On her finger is a green band. On her hip is a dulled green… dagger? I can’t tell, my eyes are so blurred. Dorliac is speaking, but I can’t make out what she is saying.

  Blue necklace… green ring… green blade… she has a Rare necklace her father gave her. It helps recover mana faster. The green ring, she has a storage ring, it’s uncommon. The blade is some kind of weapon I don’t know where she… wait, I gave her an uncommon dagger once. As a belated birthday present, before we were serious. Am I seeing items? Colored by their rarity? Is this what Eyes of the Abyss does? Standing, I feel Dorliac steadying me. Other shimmers of people moving through shadows come closer. Each person has some kind of item on them, most are a dull grey, some are green, and a few blue. Three purple items... Epic items, it must be the WHA people. My eyes peer upwards, a faint blue light high above at the top of the stalk… if the mace is Rare… is that where it is?

  Suddenly the vision begins to fade, leaving me dazed as my ears ring once more. Sound reconnecting to them. It’s like the trance of healing and Triage, but more jarring.

  “Novak?”

  “I’m fine, ma’am.”

  “What happened?” she asks, leaning closer, “Both of your eyes went completely black, is that related to your new class?”

  “No,” I admit, almost stumbling forward, feeling disoriented still.

  “The item?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, get your bearings, you’re drawing attention to yourself.”

  I blink, looking around, there are a bunch of people staring and whispering. Looking down, I see Dorliac is holding me up.

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Low mana, get back to work!” she barks at the onlookers.

  They turn, but they still whisper. It’s probably fine. That was a good excuse. Her and Cortez are both good at lying on the spot. Something I need to work on.

  “I can stand,” I say, pushing her arm off me.

  “So?”

  “I think I know where the item is, ma’am.”

  “What?”

  “The black eyes thing, it let me see items, and I think their rarity.”

  She squints, measuring me.

  “You saw items?”

  “You have a rare necklace, an uncommon ring, and an uncommon dagger,” I point to where each item is on her body.

  “You already knew that I…”

  “Those three,” I say, pointing to the World Hunter Association people, “I think they each have an Epic-grade item.”

  “An item that lets you see other items?”

  “Uh, it also seems to eat other items,” I admit.

  “When were you going to tell me that?” she asks, folding her arms again.

  “I wasn’t,” I admit.

  She turns, and a look of irritation flares for a moment, but falls away.

  “I can’t help you if I’m in the dark all the time.”

  I nod, she’s right. And she really hasn’t used her position for anything other than to help me so far. All the worries that Cortez and I had, were apparently unfounded. Dorliac has so far been nothing short of a great ally, and friend. Minus the infrequent bouts with Cortez.

  “First things first, where do you think you saw the item?”

  I point up.

  “No…”

  I nod.

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  “You’re sure?”

  “Mostly.”

  She curses under her breath.

  “Fine, I’ll talk with the WHA mage Trent, he might be able to help.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  ***

  Trent, the asshole mage who refused to help us with the dragonflies is deep in conversation with Dorliac now. The Cleric Verantha stands off to his side, arms folded, she hasn’t so much as looked in my direction yet. The knight is doing their knightly thing… which is standing and doing nothing.

  Mwangi is staring a hole through Trent’s head with his arms crossed. He doesn’t really like mages, well, doesn’t really like WHA mages. Don’t know why, but he’s just always given them the Mwangi death stare, even the nice ones. Fighters and warrior-type classes on the other hand, he’s usually chill with.

  “You want me to waste mana on getting up to the top… on a hunch?” Trent asks, leaning against his tree branch staff. I honestly wouldn’t mind if Abyss snatched it, after the mission though.

  Something about this guy reminds me of that shitbag Lieutenant Gaspers. I bet he’d slob the Lich’s knob if he was in that situation too. Though, I don’t know him well. Maybe I’m just being a judgmental prick. Bad memories try to float to the surface. Nope, push that shit down. Carry the torch.

  “We’ve combed the entire grid, with the exception of the top of this plant,” Dorliac says.

  “Next you’ll be combing tunnels that smell like goblin dung,” Trent sighs.

  “If it comes to that.”

  “I think you should help, Trent, the faster we complete the mission, the faster we leave,” Verantha says, shooting a glance at me finally. Still pissed. Guess she hasn’t found any suitable cactus yet. Cacti? I don’t know.

  “Bregan, thoughts?” Trent asks turning to the silent Knight.

  They nod, if you could call it that. I wonder what’s lurking under the helmet. Bregan isn’t a common human name. They might be an off-worlder.

  “Fine,” Trent grumbles, “On one condition though.”

  “Name it,” Dorliac says.

  “Go on a date with me.”

  A vein bulges in Mwangi’s temple. He’s about to speak, but Dorliac gives the business smile. She doesn’t even look upset by the prospect.

  “Sure, but you’re buying.”

  He smirks, “Fair enough.”

  I blink. She’s going to go on a date with this dipshit? Whatever, not my business.

  “Right, well, let’s go up,” Trent says, “I can take one other person, no point in taking more than that. Waste of mana.”

  “I will…” Mwangi begins.

  “Specialist Novak will accompany you,” Dorliac interrupts.

  “The medic?” Trent gripes, shaking his head, “Don’t you have someone with a pathfinder type class? They have perception bonuses, you should send one of them.”

  “He has good eyesight. Also, it had better not be a cheap date.”

  He pushes his tongue in his cheek, narrowing his eyes at her, “I don’t do cheap dates.”

  “Sorry, just thought with how stingy you are with mana…”

  “Mana and money are two separate beasts, love.”

  “If you say so.”

  He looks irritated by her remark, but at the same time, he seems more into her from it. Again, not my problem, she’s a grown woman. Free to make whatever mistakes she wants.

  ***

  So, while he may be an asshole. He’s actually pretty skilled. I think he’s a specialized druid type. He’s been bending the wall of the plant to shuffle both of us up to the top. Like we’re riding a wave of plant fiber. It’s weird as fuck, but really cool. His eyes glow a light green, similar to when people use healing, but a little more dark around the edges.

  While we’re taking the escalator toward the top, I’m going through my skills menu. Clicking on the new skill in black text. Eyes of the Abyss. I half expected it to be withheld, but as soon as I clicked on it, a bunch of boxes showed up.

  [ Skill: Eyes of the Abyss ]

  [ Usage: Allows the user to view things as Abyss sees them. ]

  [ Effect: Grants unique boon to user’s vision. ]

  [ Duration: Until canceled. ]

  [ Activation: Intention. ]

  [ Cost: Mana. ]

  [ Unique Passive: Evolution. ]

  Allows the user to see things as Abyss sees them… does that mean… Abyss is sentient? I look down at the ring, no longer glowing, just looks like a normal black ring besides the carving of a stringless bow. Which isn’t really even that weird. What is weird though… the unique passive. What does evolution mean? Like the skill can evolve? Or is that tied to Abyss, or both? So many questions keep piling up. Next weekend I get, I’m delving through it all. I need to figure this out.

  I swipe the interface away, almost to the top. When we reach it, Trent slows the plant elevator and spreads his fingers towards the roof, a hole sheers open, spilling large droplets of plant juices down below. The plant’s cells contract and staunch the bleeding quickly. He raises us up into some kind of chamber, like the heart of the plant’s flower bud or whatever the equivalent is.

  “Damn…” Trent says, looking off in the distance, “She was right.”

  In the center of the chamber made from plant walls, there is a singular mace entwined in a bundle of vines holding it up like some kind of holy chalice. The top of the mace is full of uniform spikes, a blue flame dances around it, engulfing the entire head of the mace, spikes and all. The flame is a darker blue than the Wither flames that happen when I make Witherbrands.

  Definitely a rare item.

  “Alright, go fetch me the mace,” Trent says, leaning against the plant wall, forging a seat from it.

  No surprise there.

  As I’m walking over he talks again, “What was that chick’s name again?”

  “Lieutenant Dorliac?”

  “Yeah, that’s what it was,” he says.

  Shrugging it off, I move toward the Mace. The hand that has Abyss is tingling, I can almost feel a hunger from it… Don’t tell me it wants to eat the mace, I have enough problems.

  “Bet she gives good head, she’s got nice lips.”

  Ugh, this guy is such a douche.

  “Think she swallows?”

  Ignoring him, I move closer to the mace. The vines seem to be somewhat sentient as I step over them, moving from where my boot is. Strange and very creepy. Still, I press on, until my hand without Abyss is on the mace. It’s practically brimming with power.

  The ground shifts under us, the sound of muffled wind slapping against the walls. Gravity lurching to the side, my grip on the mace the only thing that’s keeping me from falling. Holy crap, the whole plant is bending in the wind.

  Trent looks unphased by it, still sitting on his form-fitted seat, leaning against his tree staff.

  “Hurry up, I’m bored.”

  I give him a look, one that I probably shouldn’t give the guy giving me a ride down. But he doesn’t seem phased by that either.

  As soon as the plant settles from its backswing, I start prying the vines off of the mace, until it’s free in my hand. There’s a strange shudder that runs through the vines and into the plant, but other than that, it seems fine.

  A notification pops up, and a new map with a marker for where Aloka’s altar is. Trent holds out his hand. I begrudgingly hand it over. He inspects it, turning it over in his hand, then suddenly tosses it back to me. On instinct, I grab it with both hands.

  Black tendrils spring forth from Abyss, wrapping and consuming the mace. Trent’s eyes widen, finally phased by something. He stands, readying himself, eyes narrowing at me, then falling to the ring. A new pop-up message shows up as soon as the Mace of the Ardent Flame disappears fully into Abyss.

  [ Quest… Error… Error… Error… ]

  Oh fuck.

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