Chapter 24

  Lily and Meztili stood atop the crumbling walls of the ruined fort, watching as their masterpiece travelled in a wide arc towards their target. They had fired their spell like a mortar, carefully calculating the trajectory to bombard the Kobold camp.

  The plan was simple: Wipe out the Kobolds and eliminate Team 2 without engaging them directly. They could defeat Axel without ever confronting him, then move on to Team 3 afterwards. Bridgit hated the idea, claiming it was cowardly to hide on a hill and that her pride as royalty would be forever tarnished by avoiding a battle.

  But to her dismay, the imps couldn’t have cared less about her. They only barely tolerated her existence because of Lily and Meztili.

  Lily, in particular, had a way with the scheming little devils, and her shadow magic impressed them as fellow spell casters. Meztili similarly commanded respect with her undead conjurations, reinforcing the perimeter of their base with forever-vigilant skeletal soldiers.

  Some were creations she formed with her own ability, but most were the reanimated remains of goblins, kobolds, imps, and some humanoids. These remains required less upkeep from her, allowing them to triple their numbers.

  Even so, Lily’s idea to stay put and fire spells from a distance was still their best option. Focus on defense and attack from a position of safety. Simple and effective.

  Their first shot missed the mark only slightly, an error caused by not accounting for wind resistance. However, with the imps all gathering around Meztili’s sigil and shooting their profane magic repeatedly into the floating spherical shadow Lily had made, their next shot was readied within just 30 minutes.

  Bridgit sat on a staircase, watching with evident annoyance as her teammates did everything. Despite her status, she had nothing to do besides wait for an attack and defend as needed. So far, it had undoubtedly not been needed.

  She at least held herself back from making any brash unilateral moves, but the way things were going, they would win without her doing anything, and her final score would be mediocre at best.

  Lily was the one who found the imps on the first day. And she was the one who convinced them to cooperate. Meztili had presented the bombardment plan and maintained order with the silent threat of undead retribution ever looming over the traitorous imps. But what had Bridgit done besides pout, argue, and sit around?

  She watched as the second fireball flew upwards, then curved away into the horizon. Lily directed it, and Meztili, through means unknown, reported on the death toll after it landed.

  “...Zero.”

  “What!? No way, we had it perfect this time, didn’t we?”

  Lily couldn’t fathom how they had failed to hit anything.

  “Hey! Imp number four! Get over there and report back what you see!”

  An idle imp that had perched up on the highest point of the ruins unfurled its wings and leapt off, gliding over the trees towards the kobold camp.

  “...The sun is falling. We should stop soon.”

  Meztili watched the imp leave and turned to Lily. Her face was totally obscured with bandages even now, but Lily always seemed to be able to read her expressions regardless.

  “Why? What’s got you worried?”

  “The others have an advantage in the dark. If they retaliate now, we will have a hard time.”

  Lily frowned in thought, but seemingly agreed as her face lit up like the sun and she skipped away to yell at the imps.

  “Good work, guys! You can all go back to burning livestock and zapping birds now!”

  She cheerfully dismissed them, though the imps’ enthusiasm had been drained along with their magic reserves. They all weakly hovered to various spots to collapse for the night.

  Bridgit, as predicted by both her teammates, argued once again.

  “We should keep the attacks going. Move the imps in shifts, even if it means weaker missiles, that way we can rest while continuing to disrupt the others and strike while they are exhausted.”

  “No. Every attack we launch is another chance for them to trace the trajectory of our missile and counterattack. Imps cannot see in the dark like goblins and kobolds, nor can you for that matter.”

  Meztili didn’t speak much. But she had certainly come out of her shell these past two days. Largely so she could shoot down Bridgit's objections.

  “So we light the torches. My Gift can illuminate this place as much as we need.”

  “Then we would give away our location to both teams. The whole reason we’re doing it this way is to avoid a direct fight. Try to keep up, Bridgit-idjit.”

  Lily joined in to mock her, looking down from the wall with a smug smirk.

  Bridgit kept her mouth shut and audibly began grinding her teeth. Just as Meztili’s quiet nature was slowly being worn away, Bridgit’s teeth were being worn to dust.

  She stood up and stormed off into the woods to catch something juicy to cook up.

  ***

  We had successfully made our way back to the Blood Thunderer camp without issue. On the way, we had heard two more explosions hitting the kobold camp, but nobody remained there to be inconvenienced by it.

  One imp did come flying overhead, a tiny humanoid creature with darkened red flesh, four veiny wings, and two small horns. But Fleur’s arrow immediately skewered its body, and it dropped to the ground, well and truly dead.

  Gotrut and his Spider Biters were awake by the time we arrived, and although they were pissed they missed so much, they were still satisfied that they absorbed a rival tribe without competition.

  But we still had to figure out how to close things off.

  Stability in the Verdant Divide. That’s the overall goal. Knowing the personalities in Team 1, particularly Bridgit, they weren’t likely to surrender.

  Even if they did, I still did not accept that the three tribes can coexist. Kobolds and goblins were one thing, considering kobolds practically lived to serve greater beings, while goblins loved to be in charge. But imps only cared about the authority of magical might. Neither of the other tribes would be able to control them.

  My original plan was to simply wipe out all opposition, so I was already pleased with the outcome we had achieved thanks to Axel’s surrender. No need to push things beyond that.

  While I was sorting through the information and trying to formulate an ideal course of action, I noticed the last ray of sunlight vanishing.

  The others had left me sitting on Oliver’s seat while they caught each other up to speed and proposed their own plans.

  It was as good a time as any for me to focus on recovery.

  So I closed my eyes.

  …

  …

  The familiar stagnant air surrounded me. The ground became uneven, but both legs were firmly planted, as if Axel had never broken one of them.

  I opened my eyes and saw exactly what I expected. The Crucible, the Feral Abyss’ form after nightfall. My soul was forever bound to the place, and the ruler could call me there the moment I lost consciousness.

  I looked to that familiar eye in the sky.

  Should I call them The Watcher as I always had? Or now that I knew their true title, should I change that habit?

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “...The First Wendigo.”

  I muttered to myself.

  A grotesque amalgamation of flesh and bone that only vaguely resembled a bulky humanoid lumbered towards me, arm raised in preparation to turn me into ground meat.

  But as the words left my mouth, the world froze, and that eye locked onto me. Its already grotesque visage was warped even further as its pupil split apart and shifted in a manic frenzy. But always, at least one of those pupils would be fixated on me.

  My body grew heavier and heavier, like an invisible force was pushing down onto my shoulders until I was forced to my knees. My axe, as always, lay before me, but I could feel the faint ego that had begun forming inside it quivering. It's fear was being projected onto me, and my body was physically torn to ribbons.

  My eyes, now metres apart and frozen in the air, remained functional and met that forbidden gaze unflinchingly.

  My body there was just a representation of my soul. Tear it apart as much as you like, it would always come back the same.

  Because I would never lose my will again.

  Why do you think I survived this hell for so long while the others turned into malformed abominations? Why do you think I kept coming back despite knowing the pain that waits me?

  I didn't fear the Crucible. And I didn't fear its master.

  Do you hear me, Wendigo? Nothing you do can compare to eternal nothingness. The pain you inflict only reminds me that I broke free of that place. That I am alive.

  The eye stopped its crazed movements. It focused on me and returned to its usual macabre, yet placid form.

  My body reformed by the will of the Wendigo, but I kept track of each organ as it regrew, just to make sure everything was as it should be.

  So when something slipped inside, I did not fail to notice it.

  A wriggling black mass. Like an especially large tadpole, with twisting rows of teeth coiled around my heart and constricted.

  But that was not all that I noticed. Another ego was present inside me. It never broke apart under the weight of the Wendigo’s judgment.

  I knew it immediately. This was the Stag Lord.

  Given physical form, it appeared as the skull of a stag. Faint green embers rise from the eye sockets, marking the only movement they were currently capable of.

  As my body reformed in its entirety, I grabbed it by the antlers.

  I placed the skull atop my head, wearing it like a mask. But not to shield myself from the world. Rather, I saw more than ever before.

  An emerald inferno engulfed the land around me. The eye quivered in anticipation, and I met their gaze not out of defiance, but in calm analysis.

  My voice breached my lips, but the words were not mine.

  “Well done.”

  The eye wept tears of blood.

  “Elevate him… Your mercy is not needed…”

  The words slowed and dissipated entirely. The flames vanished, and I felt the Stag Lord’s soul fall back into slumber.

  A gargantuan arm of blackened, dead flesh, barely covering the bones beneath, erupted from the ground below me. Stuck in the palm, I rocketed into the sky, seemingly without end.

  I saw a ceiling, exactly the same as the fleshy ground below, rapidly approaching me. The hand pierced through with a sickening noise, and I find myself covered in viscera. I kept my mouth firmly clamped shut, eager to keep myself from swallowing any of the substance.

  Once we broke through, I saw the second layer of the Crucible.

  If the first was a hell made from flesh, this place was carved from charred bones and filled with rivers of pale blue water, like moonlit tears washing over a long forgotten carcass.

  This was not what I expected. I just wanted my soul to be broken and reformed at least once to fix my physical body…

  But I just finished talking myself up in front of an unknowable ancient being… going back would certainly make me look ridiculous.

  I grabbed my axe, calmly stood up, and walked into a new battlefield.

  ***

  At the Goblin camp, Oliver had just finished explaining how to differentiate the various items he had enchanted and what they all did. Fleur had confirmed the fireballs had stopped bombarding the kobold base and moved on to the old goblin base. They all felt relieved to know the current base was safe for now.

  Everybody was exhausted, and they were eager to follow Rex’s lead and collapse somewhere to catch their breath before making any move against Team 1.

  Oliver took the first watch, seeing as how he was relatively well-rested already. He sat on the ground next to his usual spot, which was still occupied by Rex.

  As he fell into his routine, he noticed another person approach.

  A graceful figure with long, slender limbs and flawless white skin. She smelled like a bouquet of roses and embodied natural beauty in all its splendor.

  Fleur Sylvain nodded to Oliver.

  “You are doing well, keep it up.”

  His heart raced, and he felt his face growing hotter. Such simple words were enough to make Oliver’s day infinitely brighter.

  But that was all she had for him. She moved straight to Rex and stood by his side, quietly observing him with an unwavering gaze.

  Oliver felt his heart sink, and shifted his focus to his enchanting.

  They continued like this for hours. Fleur had brought handmade poultices and potions to apply to Rex while he slept. The sight of her delicately caring for him filled Oliver with envy, but he shook his head to rid himself of such silly thoughts.

  “Ah!”

  Oliver looked up hopefully, but Fleur was only reacting to something Rex had done.

  Or more appropriately, something that happened to him.

  His wounds suddenly shut themselves without leaving so much as a faint scar. His leg snapped back into place, and the bruises that had only freshly formed were nowhere to be seen. His clothing was still in tatters, and there was still dried blood in places, leaving no doubt that the wounds used to be there.

  “W-what was that?”

  Oliver stood up in shock.

  “Did you do that?”

  He asked Fleur, but her surprise was evident in her expression.

  “You truly are a mystery…”

  She mused to herself with a faint smile. She seemed to have forgotten about Oliver’s presence.

  “Woah! Pointy pushed his leg back in place!”

  Axel, apparently hearing the sharp cracking noise from Rex’s leg, woke up and came to investigate.

  “It was not me. His soul rearranged itself.”

  She said something none of the others could understand.

  Axel looked at the remaining potions.

  “Well, he won’t need these then.”

  He snatched them up, downed two potions at once, then tossed the bottles and walked back where he came from.

  ***

  I woke up feeling like freshly dead roadkill. Physically, I was fine, thanks to my soul being reformed. Not even a faint ache remained in my leg anymore.

  Mentally, however, I was totally drained.

  That second layer of the Crucible seemed to be fundamentally different from the first. It did not function as a battle royale with no rules or allegiances. Instead, all the creatures there moved in groups.

  I hadn’t found any allies of my own while there, and ended up repeatedly being outmaneuvered and overwhelmed. It would take more time to figure out what I was supposed to do there.

  “...What?”

  I noticed Fleur looking up at me with keen interest.

  “Good morning, Dreamer.”

  “...What the hell is a Dreamer?”

  I frowned in genuine confusion and felt like she was making another weird assumption.

  “You do not need to hide it. We hold great respect for your profession in the Leafwhisper commune.”

  She took my hand as if I were a holy figure she sought a blessing from.

  I flicked her nose and hopped down from my seat.

  “You’re wrong. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know you’re wrong.”

  Ignoring her ramblings, I went to find Soot and Tiara, who were chasing the one visceranid who had yet to latch onto anyone.

  Fleur followed, still not willing to drop the topic.

  “A realm of blood and rebirth. A land of suffering and opportunity. Forever watched and never free, you roam the worlds between.”

  She recited it fluidly. Whatever it was.

  “Very nice, is that an elven poem or something?”

  “It is how the Dreamer’s realm is described. The realm you have been to.”

  I stopped in place. Could it be possible? Neither Ada nor Poggy told me about any other allies in the IMA, but Fleur seemed to know something about the Crucible.

  “And what did you read to hear about that?”

  I decide not to affirm or deny anything for now, and instead tried to coax more out of her.

  “It is not something that can be read. This is knowledge passed down the generations, though the Leafwhisper commune has not produced a Dreamer in twelve centuries.”

  So basically, this was just a long-forgotten legend?

  My interest was lost as quickly as it peaked. Fleur seemed to just be taken by an old fairy tale, but had no understanding of the source material. I will admit that the poem is an accurate description of the Crucible, however.

  She continued to ramble about her misunderstandings surrounding souls while I fell into thought.

  Forever watched and never free…

  I clutched my heart. A faint tightness had remained in my chest even after returning from the Crucible.