Date: 2021-06-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: More decks, more cards, more goblins! Reborn into a world of magic, Gareth saved his adopted home from the ravages of their ancient enemy. Not that anyone noticed. Whilst the city rebuilds, Gareth turns his attention towards a new goal, the upcoming grand tournament! If he’s going to compete Gareth will need to get stronger. That means taking on more quests, earning more levels, and discovering powerful new cards for his deck. Along with his friends, a former goddess, a deposed demon lord and their constantly annoyed watcher, he sets off on what sounds like an easy job. Nothing on Acamida is e

Lichbane

A deckbuilding LitRPG

Tracy Gregory

P.W Hillard Fiction

Copyright © 01.07.2021 P.W Hillard Fiction

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Getcovers.com

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Goblin Summoner – The Rules

Chapter One

Gareth ran, his feet pounding against the cobbles. Things were not going his way that morning, the cold air chilling his bones, thin wispy fog rising from the street. He had to get back to the tavern as soon as he could, to tell the others what he had learnt. It had been a quiet few weeks in Wildermount, and excitement was exactly what Gareth needed. A sombre feeling had descended on the city after it had been besieged by the Republic, understandably so, the invading army and their summoned giant had come crashing through the walls. The combination of flying masonry and trampling feet had crushed dozens of homes and caused untold casualties despite the enemy force being driven off by a comparative handful of inexperienced duellists.

The enemy leader, a powerful card user with an angel affinity deck had been defeated by Gareth, with some assistance from Magda. The goddess turned mortal also used angels, but the creatures summoned by the Republic duellist had been far more powerful than anything she had to hand. Despite Gareth’s victory, there had been no glory from the win, no extolling of his name. Nobody had seen it, aside from a handful of Republic soldiers, and they had been cut down by reinforcements arriving from Seahaven. Gareth’s deed of heroism might as well not have happened, it wasn’t like anyone would believe him if he made the claim without evidence.

Heroism was something that percolated around Gareth’s mind on occasion. His arrival on Acamida—a world of magic and monsters—had not been an expected one. Gareth had died, his demise the result of a poorly made decision. Magda had taken pity on his soul, sending it down to Acamida to be reincarnated. She wasn't supposed to, her job was to search for souls worthy of becoming the gods' champion, a hero to save a world from something they called the Adversary. Knowing that he wasn't good enough, that normally he would have been tossed into oblivion, had angered Gareth. He had resolved to prove the gods wrong, that he was capable of becoming a great hero. It was petty, Gareth knew that, but upon learning the truth of reality, of what waited beyond death, he couldn’t help but feel that it was all wrong. Magda clearly agreed with him, her decision to save Gareth’s soul had come at the cost of her godhood. She had been cast down to Acamida in mortal form as punishment, something the mercurial goddess complained about constantly. That and her new body being significantly shorter than her old one.

Slowing himself to a jog, Gareth rounded a corner, the gateway to the lower tier appearing before him. Wildermount was an ancient city, one that rose up a mountain into the sky. It had been split into differing tiers, each level towards the mountains peak an advancement in society, the houses growing progressively more impressive until they reached the shimmering keep on the mountaintop. The tavern where Gareth’s party had taken up residence was on the lowest tier, technically the poorest part of the city only because the shantytown around the outer walls wasn’t strictly official. It was surprising how quickly it had sprung back up after being torn down to make space to defend the siege.

“Hey slow down!” came a cry from beside the gate. It was a familiar face, Mike was a guard captain, one in charge of the entire bottom tier and a regular patron in the Troll and Bridge, the inn that Gareth's party had taken up residence in. “Running about like that is dangerous.”

“Sorry, Mike,” Gareth said. The guard captain had an interest in Gareth, an unhealthy one if you asked Gareth’s opinion. He repeatedly claimed Gareth had something Mike called the glint, a look in the eye that brought trouble with it. As much as Gareth would hate to admit it, maybe the guard had a point. Since arriving in Acamida he had bounced from one dangerous situation to the next, delving into different dungeons, fighting monsters, even taking part in a battle. The last few weeks had been a nice break, but Gareth was itching to get back at it, even if it did mean more danger. Acamida was a world that rewarded struggle, a person’s connection to the magic around them presented as levels and experience points. Sitting around had meant no gain in experience and if Gareth wanted to prove himself a hero, he would need to grow stronger. Slowing his pace, he nodded to Mike and then absentmindedly opened his menu with a thought.

Level 16

Current Exp 498/1266

Skills

Mana Reserve - Increases available mana by one for every five ranks: 16 skill points

Deck Limit - Increases the maximum mana value of your deck. Increases five points for every two ranks: 6 skill points

Deck Size - Increases the maximum size of your deck. Increases by five cards for every two ranks: 5 skill points

Goblinkin - Increases attack and defence of Goblin affinity monsters. Adds ten to each rating for every five skill ranks: 5 skill points

Starting Hand Size - Increases the size of your starting hand. Add one card for every five ranks: 5 skill points

Feats

Strength in Numbers: Increases the attack and defence of monsters that match your affinity by fifty, provided only monsters of that type are present in your deck.

Recycle: You may discard one shield card to draw two cards.

Open the Reliquary: The first relic card used in a battle costs zero mana.

It was a lot to take in. Every duellist in Acamida had an affinity, a type of creature they were most aligned with. Cards with a matching affinity benefited from a discount in their mana cost, incentivizing people to specialise. Gareth had found himself saddled with goblins as his, a fact that drew mixtures of amusement and pity from others when they found out. Goblins were weak individually and not efficient for their mana cost but with careful choice of his skills and feats, Gareth had managed to enhance them to a reasonable level. It was something his deck leant into; plentiful cheap monsters enhanced by boosting relic cards. From what Gareth could gather goblins was a rare affinity, and the scorn for it was largely a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because it was considered bad, nobody had bothered to put the effort in to learn its nuances. He could hardly blame people for that, most duellists were nobles or at least had been before decks had started appearing in mass around Wildermount. One unlucky enough to find themselves with a goblin affinity likely simply shrugged and went back to their life of luxury rather than endangering themselves to improve. Gareth didn’t have that option, and he wondered if the sudden influx of new duellists would have a similar impact across other affinities. It seemed likely, the number of duellists in the kingdom had more than doubled, thanks to a phenomenon that was likely Magda's fault. When she had sent Gareth down to Acamida she had gifted him with a deck to increase his odds of survival and had probably been a touch heavy-handed with her divine gift.

For now, things had worked out, the extra duellists conscripted to defend the city when the Republic had attacked. They had invaded the west of the kingdom with the bulk of their forces, drawing away the Wildermount army. A small force had then landed at the coast to the south, sneaking past the Seahaven navy in merchant vessels and making haste to attack the capital. It would have been a fine plan if they had faced only the city guard as expected rather than a horde of summoned monsters.

Gareth wasn't an idiot, or at least he liked to think he wasn't. Ownership of a deck was required to tap into the magical power that ran through Acamida. That ability had been controlled by powerful noble families for centuries, but the new wave of duellists were almost entirely peasants. Upending the power dynamic in a society in such a drastic way would have consequences. Gareth suspected that the only reason it hadn't already was because the old guard had a significant level lead on the fresh recruits. Having a deck came with a massive increase in experience points earned. Gareth had been in Acamida for just a few days shy of two months and already he was at a higher level than most people could dream of achieving in a lifetime.

Exiting the gate, Gareth descended the steps down to the lowest level of the city. He found that he was out of breath a little, his eagerness to return robbing him of breath. The way that the streets of Wildermount were arranged made getting anywhere much longer than he would have liked. There was only one gateway between each tier, set at opposite ends to one another. It meant that passing between multiple tiers forced you to walk the entire length of each. It was more noticeable on the lower levels, the conical nature of the mountain shrinking the distance as you ascended. It was a logical layout, gates were a weak point in a wall by their very nature, and it forced an invading army to slowly work their way along the streets peppered by arrows and spells if they wanted to reach the next one. It was of course noticeably less useful if the enemy summoned a giant angel to smash directly through them as the Republic had done.

Piles of rubble were still strewn throughout the streets, the rebuilding efforts well underway. Patching the hole in the outer wall had been the first priority, just in case the Republic decided they were going to ignore the treaty they had signed. Rebuilding the line of crushed houses that trailed from where the hole had been to the next wall was slower going. Gareth couldn't help but notice that some of the houses that bordered the destruction had suddenly grown outhouses or ramshackle extensions that stretched out into the gap. He had to admire the audacity of the land grab that was occurring.

“Out for an early morning stroll, are we?” A figure emerged from the mist, a hood pulled over their head, their hands tucked into the pockets of their trousers. On their belt was a deck box, the tell-tale sign of a duellist.

“Something like that, Jack.” The man who had appeared before Gareth was a familiar face. Their first meeting had been an adversarial one, Jack using his newfound power as a duellist to rob people on the road leading to Wildermount. During the siege, Jack had given Gareth a relic that had allowed him to defeat the Republic's duellist and since then their relationship had become one of quiet rivalry rather than outright antagonism. “Just grabbing some breakfast.” Gareth raised his left hand, a paper bag clutched within. The bottom of the bag was stained with grease.

“Fair enough. There used to be a good place round here. Used to be.” Jack gestured towards the nearest rubble pile. “We’ll rebuild though. We’re tough down here at the bottom.”

“Can’t rob places if there’s no places to rob, after all.”

“Very funny. I’m all legit now, you know that. Got my guild card and everything. Besides, never really much money in banditry. Not like you can catch nobs without guards. Turns out there’s much better money being a duellist. Plenty of work to go around, especially considering, well, all this.” Jack pointed at the outer wall. “Siege riled up the undercity plenty.”

Wildermount was an ancient place, settlements existing on the mountain for thousands of years. New buildings had been built atop the ruins of the old, forming a large network of dilapidated tunnels that burrowed into the rock beneath. It was a dangerous place, one sealed off from the surface to prevent the monsters within from running rampant through the streets, though some escaped on occasion. Just before the siege the Duellist's Guild, the governing body that managed card users, sent the new wave of recruits down into its depths, taking advantage of their bolstered numbers to clear out what they could. There was still plenty of creatures down there, and it wasn't surprising the sound of battle on the surface had disturbed the unstable ecology further.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. My party is taking a break for a bit,” Gareth said. “Getting our feet under us. We’re new to Wildermount, after all.” The decision to take a few weeks break had been made partly because three-thirds of the party were newcomers to the world, counting Sarkuran. Despite having ruled an empire on Acamida a thousand years ago, the former demon king had been sealed away. From his perspective, he had been cast into an unfamiliar future.

Acamida was close enough to Earth that Gareth wasn't totally lost. Sure, it had magic, monsters, and differing races, but people were people. The same kind of taboos and norms, good and bad, were common. There were a few things that were different, opening your menu in the presence of another person was considered rude, and there were a dozen different temples operating under what seemed to be one religion. Gareth had visited every temple in the city, dragged there by Magda as she tried to unravel the mystery of why one of them seemed dedicated to her. Her role in the cosmic hierarchy had been to judge souls, not interact with worlds directly, and she was a relatively young goddess. Certainly not one that should have a following.

“Makes sense, but you’re missing out on a ton of coin though. Looks like you’ll need it too.” Jack nodded towards a slip of paper clutched alongside the steaming bag. He smiled, his face twisting into a kind of wicked smirk. “Hopefully I’ll see you there. I’ve got a few new tricks I would love to show you.”

***

Gareth slapped the piece of paper down onto the table and received only confused looks in return. He sighed and dropped the warm bag next to it, the top torn open and the contents eagerly removed by his friends sat opposite him.

“What’s that?” Magda said, chewing on one of the hot bacon rolls that had been sitting in the bag. She touched the slip of paper, smearing a line of grease atop it.

“What do you mean what’s this? You can read, can’t you?” Gareth knew the answer, but he couldn't resist a chance to annoy Magda.

“Of course, I can read! Or at least I can if I’m not dying from hunger. What took you so long?”

“You’re the one that wanted breakfast from a specific café on the second tier! You could have gotten one from nearby.” Gareth sighed; it was partly his fault for actually agreeing. The Troll and Bridge served food, but only after midday. That was understandable, it had only a tiny staff and its busiest period was at night.

A hand stretched out across the table, its skin pale aside from the dark green scales that snuck out from beneath their owner's cuff. It belonged to Imelda, the only member of the party who was a local. She belonged to a race known as wyrmkin, a people who looked mostly human aside from the large horns growing out from the side of her head and the thick clusters of scales that stretched up the sides of her neck. Gareth had asked once how far down the scales went and had gotten a slap to the face for his trouble.

“Is this that tournament you’re so excited about?” Imelda said, dragging the paper closer to her.

“Sure is! They’ve opened up registration, we should sign up.”

“Why, exactly?” Imelda’s emerald eyes were dancing across the sheet of paper.

“The experience points? The possibility of winning some money? For fun? All of those things. Remember when we were doing formal duels in that field, winning those matches was worth a lot of experience points. If we join this tournament, we’ll get good experience and not have to put our lives on the line. It’s win-win.” Gareth snatched the bag off the table and removed the last remaining roll. Its bread felt soggy, having suffered the worst from the grease building up at the bottom of the bag. “We can’t justify missing out.”

“He’s got a rather astute point,” Sarkuran said. The demon king had remained quiet as he ate his roll, considering talking whilst eating to be uncouth. “We do need to increase our level if we ever intended to return to…what was, Magda.” Sarkuran flicked his ashen hair out his eyes. It had been black when he had emerged from his crystal but had shifted colour when the last of his demonic power had been used saving Imelda from beneath the rubble of the outer wall. A lone horn poked through the mop of hair, so the party had passed him off as a wyrmkin. Wildermount society was notably human-centric, other races using decks considered impossible before Magda's mistake. The majority of humans didn't know enough about wyrmkin to know otherwise, all they saw was the horn.

“See,” Gareth said. “Sarkuran agrees.” He knew what his comrade was getting at. The demon king revealed his form had come from being higher level, his release from the crystal setting him back to level one. It was something Gareth had seen in person. He was certain the tips of his ears were starting to develop a very slight point to them.

“I wonder if he’ll change his tune once he sees this.” Imelda slid the paper to her left, tapping at the bottom for emphasis.

“Ah, that’s…rather a sticking point. Did you read this fully?” Sarkuran said.

“Not really, I just saw the slips outside the guildhall. Does it matter, we're going for it no matter what. Well, I am anyway,” Gareth said with a shrug. “Plus, I was thinking, this tournament is going to be a big deal, right? The first one after the siege and all that.” The upcoming event was still another month away, but the news of it was being spread constantly through leaflets and criers. It was being positioned as a celebration of victory. It was a smart idea, from what Gareth could gather duelling was the most popular sport in Wildermount.

“Well, unless you have a way to raise this rather exorbitant entrance fee, I suspect this might be something of a non-starter.” Sarkuran picked the slip up off the table and passed it to Gareth.

The words on the paper were in English, or at least they were to Gareth's eyes. Along with his deck, Magda had gifted his reborn body the ability to understand any language, an ability that had proven incredibly useful. He had no doubt it was written in whatever language Wildermount used. Gareth had never thought to ask. When his eyes settled on the entrance fee that Sarkuran mentioned he let out a long sigh.

“Two hundred and fifty gold. That’s insane.” Gareth still wasn’t entirely certain how much things were worth in Wildermount money, but he knew that amount of gold was a lot. It was more than an entire week’s rent for the party.

“Per person,” Imelda said, driving home the point. “We would need a thousand gold if we all entered. Our funds aren’t exactly on that level. We’ve got less than a hundred left to our name, plus a few silver.”

“We've got a month; we could earn enough in that time. Maybe. We were going to need to start taking on jobs anyway.” Gareth knew that he was trying to reason with himself, the others were just as aware of their situation as he was. “Ok sure, it might be hard, but we can't miss out on this. It's going to be big.”

“That’s twice you’ve said that,” Magda said, holding up two fingers to make her point. “Why does it matter?”

“Because we can make a name for ourselves,” Imelda said, jumping in before Gareth could answer. “Everyone in Wildermount will be watching. If we do well in the tournament everyone is going to know who we are, even if we are probably going to be in one of the amateur events.”

“Not sure I’m keen on that. This is just part of your weird hero complex, isn’t it?”

Gareth held up his hands in exaggerated shock. “Not at all! I'm just thinking that it'll help us get quests. It's not just guild stuff we can take, and maybe private quests might be a better deal for us. What do you mean amateur events, Imelda?”

“Well, tournaments like this are actually a few different events. You've got your professional competition in the main stadium, then you have the smaller ones for lower-level duellists scattered around the city in other venues.  The finals of those events get to compete in the big stadium though. Sorry, sometimes I forget that you’re not from here, this is something even us forest wyrmkin knew.” Imelda shrugged, her cloak rustling as she moved. “Don’t get me wrong though if you do well people will know who you are. Lots of folks follow all the events.”

“So, it comes down to just having to earn this money then.”

“Well, no. You also need to meet the deck requirements.” Imelda reached across the table and flicked the bottom of the slip in Gareth’s hand.

She was right, in small print beneath the fee the slip listed a selection of requirements to enter. The first was that decks had to match a duellists affinity in its entirety. That was fine, Gareth's feats required that of him anyway. The second was that decks had to consist of a minimum number of cards.

“Forty cards minimum?” Gareth couldn't understand it. Ideally, you wanted to keep your deck as small as possible to improve the odds of drawing what you wanted. He had spent a few skill points to expand his deck past the starting size, after all not having the ability to deal with something could be a matter of life and death, but forty felt like too many.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to promote diversity,” Imelda said. “It is a spectator sport, after all. Seeing the same handful of monsters and spells over and over is boring.”

“It does compound our problem somewhat.” Sarkuran put his elbows on the table and lent forward. “Needing more cards in our decks means needing more cards, naturally. We are already struggling for funding, and this would exacerbate that.”

“Wow, you’re all just buckets of sunshine, aren’t you?” Gareth rammed the last of his bacon roll into his mouth and slumped back into his chair. The warm salty meat was making him feel a little better at least. “Anything else you want to do to stamp on my dreams?”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t attempt it. As you said we have a month until the event itself. We should at least try to earn enough for the fee and the additional cards.” Sarkuran creaked as he moved. He still wore the makeshift cloak that had been cut from a tent, the leather not designed to move constantly. It had started to crack in several places. “What are we out for trying? Even if we don’t reach the required amount, we’ll still have made plenty of money. Hardly a loss is it?”

“If Sarkuran is in, then I’m out,” Magda said. She squinted her eyes at the former demon suspiciously. She still didn’t entirely trust him, the ancient enmity between their two factions sometimes rising to the surface. Sarkuran was nominally a minion of the Adversary, though even he was vague as to what exactly that meant.

“Very funny. That suits me fine, it means we get to split your quarter between us, correct?”

“Now, hang on, that’s not what I said,” Magda said, standing and jabbing an accusatory finger across the table.

Chapter Two

The guildhall buzzed with activity, duellists milling about the floor or examining the quest boards on the walls. It had been the same on each of the few occasions that Gareth had visited it, the influx of new duellists pushing the guild to its capacity. There were always long lines for the desks at the back and ordering food from one of the waitresses wandering about was an exercise in going hungry. Both the building and the organisation that ran it were simply too small to cope with the swollen numbers of duellists.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Gareth led his friends towards the boards on the far side of the room. It was here that quests were posted, tasks from the public that could be one of a thousand different things. In essence, duellists were mercenaries, ones that plied their magical skills for money rather than martial ones. The reverential mystique around duellists made sense with its previously noble exclusive population. They had worked had to maintain an aura of respectability, rather than being considered the common sellswords they were.

It took a few minutes to reach the boards, the general rambunctiousness of the crowd forcing Gareth to weave between groups and duck under arms outstretched with tankards in hand. Imelda was having no such trouble, moving between the crowd like they were trees in her forest home. Magda was making good time simply by being able to walk beneath the limbs of people in her way, whilst Sarkuran proudly strode forward. He had an air about him, a sense of presence that could only come from a lifetime of command. The sea of people parted for him, even if they weren’t conscious of it.

The board was worryingly empty, only a handful of slips left floating amongst a galaxy of tiny holes where pins had once rested. It didn't bode well for Gareth's money-making schemes. If they were going to spend a month building up funds for the tournament by completing quests, there had to be quests available, to begin with.

“Looks a little sparse,” Magda said, tapping on the bottom of the board. “I expected there would be…more.”

“You and me both.”

“This one appears to be equally as barren,” Sarkuran said. He had moved to the board to the right and was examining it with Imelda. “There appears to be one here, someone requires assistance dealing with an infestation of…” he leant closer to the slip, “rodents of unusual size.”

Gareth shook his head. “No. No way. I’m not smashing giant rats in a basement. That’s in a tavern, right?”

“It is. How did you know?”

“Educated guess. I can’t imagine it pays much anyway. We need something bigger.”

“What's that one, at the top of the board?” Magda said, pointing to a lone slip in the right-hand corner. “I uh…can't see it.” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “I'm too short.”

Gareth reached up and pulled the slip down. From the pinholes in the top, he could see that others had done the same and then immediately put it back on the board.

Quest Available: Explore the ruins discovered in the crystal mine. Ensure the safety of the miners and remove any threats.

Reward: 1800 Experience points. 800
1400 2000 gold pieces.

“Oh wow, this quest gives two grand. It uh, used to give less, looks like someone has updated this slip a few times.” He passed the paper to Magda, her hands reaching for it eagerly. “Guess there were no takers and they had to up the reward. Two thousand would make an excellent start, right? That’s our entrance fee and then some, plenty of cash to expand our decks with.”

“That doesn’t strike you as suspicious at all?” Sarkuran said, snatching the paper from Magda’s hands. “If it’s got such a high reward why hasn’t anyone taken it? In my—and excuse the brag—extensive experience, if things seem too good to be true, they very much are.”

“Yeah, Gareth. Like buying a games console from someone in a car park, maybe?” Magda stole the piece of paper back. She had finished reading it, after all, it wasn't long, but she hated letting Sarkuran getting away with taking it.

“I see what you’re getting at. Maybe the clerks can tell us more? I think you’re right, Sark. There must be a reason to it.”

“Well, of course, I'm right. I usually am.” Sarkuran allowed himself a rare smile.

“Alright, let’s not inflate his ego too much,” Magda said as she turned and began to walk towards the counters. The others followed, joining at the back of a queue that flowed around the edge of the room and folded back in on itself like a snake eating its tail.

Gareth had always found something awkward about waiting in a queue. Even surrounded by his friends as he was, he was at a loss for words, the social pressure of waiting calmly for the line to move forward somehow forcing silence onto him. It wasn't something he could explain, and the other duellists around him were having no issues carrying on with their conversations. Gareth took the opportunity to eavesdrop and was unsurprised to find that the tournament was the topic of choice amongst the others. They likely all had the same idea, which made the quest remaining on the board all the more surprising.

It took about thirty minutes for Gareth to reach the counter and he was greeted by a familiar face. John was sitting in the chair behind the counter, the same clerk that had registered Gareth and assigned him his first guild quest.

“Been a while, thought you would have been in earlier considering how well you did in the undercity.” John stamped a form on the desk before him with a thud and then slid the paper into a tray to his right. “Thought maybe the battle might have done you in.”

“Well, I'm made of tougher stuff than that,” Gareth said, handing the slip over. “Anything you can tell me about this quest?”

“You don’t want this quest,” John said, pushing it back across the desk. “Trust me on that.”

“Let’s say we do,” Imelda said. “Let’s say we very much do, what exactly is the problem with it. There is one, right?”

“Three parties have attempted this quest in the past month, none have returned.”

“Could be they’re just taking a long time to clear out whatever is in those ruins,” Magda said, trying to look on the bright side.

“Not if the screams the miners outside heard were any indication.” John clasped his hands together and placed his elbows on the desk. It was a serious pose in which to deliver serious advice. “I'm sure they were probably higher level than you as well. Again, don't take this quest.”

“Maybe he’s got a point?” Imelda said.

“We’re taking the quest,” Gareth said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his guild card. “Two thousand gold would set us up perfectly for the tournament. We handled the nightmares in the undercity, didn’t we? I think we’re more capable than our level would imply.”

“You don’t even know what’s in there. Miners found the entrance when they were trying to expose a new vein, the structure’s ancient, could be anything in there.” John was trying his hardest to convince Gareth accepting the quest was a poor idea, but he had no way of preparing for just how stubborn Gareth could be sometimes.

“That’s ok. We have…an expert, in that kind of thing.”

“Just a moment,” Imelda said, putting her arm on Gareth’s shoulder. “Just need to have a quick word with my comrades.” She pulled Gareth around to face her, Magda and Sarkuran standing at her side. “Are you mad?” Imelda whispered. “If it’s dangerous we shouldn’t do it!”

“Why not? Every quest is going to be dangerous. It’s always fighting something or other. Besides the harder it is the more experience we earn, right?” Gareth wasn’t going to be swayed. He had already made up his mind.

“I thought the whole point of doing the tournament was so we wouldn’t be in danger? Earning the money this way seems counterintuitive. Whatever this weird hero thing you have is, that’s your problem, but putting us all in danger isn’t cool.”

“I know that. I just think we can do this. We won't know unless we try, and like I said we'll have an advantage before we go in, right?”

“I suspect what Gareth is getting at is I might have some idea what the structure and that knowledge might benefit us. For what it's worth I agree with him. Not in me being to identify the ruins, that very much depends, but on us being able to do this. If you don't challenge yourself, you can't reach new heights. No reward without risk.” Sarkuran drummed at the bottom of his chin as he thought out loud.

“Why am I not surprised you agree with him?” Imelda shook her head in disbelief. “What about you, Magda?”

“I uh, I actually agree with those two. If we want to get stronger, we can't just take the easiest quests all the time. It's safe, but it's slow. The stronger we get, the safer we'll be, in the long run.” Magda cringed as she spoke, knowing she was betraying the veneer of female solidarity she had built with Imelda.

“Fine, looks like I’m outvoted. If this goes wrong, I will haunt anyone that survives, I can promise you that.”

Gareth turned back around to face John. No doubt the clerk had heard the entire discussion. His hand was outstretched ready to receive Gareth's guild card.

“We'll take it,” Gareth said, passing his card over. The rest of the party’s' were handed to him and tossed onto the desk to form a pile. “Sign us up.”

“Your funeral, can’t say I didn’t warn you.” John took the cards and placed them atop the slip. Reaching beneath the desk he produced a blue crystal that glowed faintly, motes of light dancing within. Around its circumference was a metal ring engraved with elaborate runes. As it passed over the stack of papers the words on them began to glow sympathetically.

Quest Accepted: Explore the ruins discovered in the crystal mine. Ensure the safety of the miners and remove any threats.

The process was fascinating to Gareth. He knew that it wasn't necessary to accept a quest formally, he had taken them before he had ever owned a guild card. It had to be a tracking system for the guild's benefit. Presumably, they collected payment from the issuer of the quest, and it likely formed part of deciding which were bills due, and which weren’t.

“There you go,” John said, handing back the slips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s probably going to be a pool about you surviving.”

“Oh yeah, what do you think they pay-out is going to be like?” Gareth wasn’t a gambling man normally, but he was confident in his abilities, and a chance at making a little more coin off a difficult quest was a hard thing to pass up. If it went wrong like Imelda was worrying about, then it wouldn't be his problem anyway, he would be back in the godly realms waiting to be judged a second time.

“Couldn’t say, but something like this, it’s hard to pass up for most here.”

“Ten gold on us living,” Gareth said, pulling out a coin purse from his pocket. He dropped a handful of coins onto the table. “I’ll be back to collect my winnings, count on it.”

***

Gareth looked at the map, twisting the paper about as he tried to get his bearings. He had bought it from a stall in the market, along with a handful of other supplies for the trip. The mine was fairly close to the capital, only a few days walk at most, if the scale on the map was to be believed. Acquiring the supplies for the trip had cut into the small reserve of money the party had left, but it was a long term investment. Tents, lanterns, bedrolls, and enough rations to last the trip. Gareth had been happy to let Imelda make the decisions when choosing the equipment, she had more survival experience than anyone else, having spent her life in the forest where Gareth had first appeared in Acamida.

“It doesn’t seem all that far,” Sarkuran said, peering over Gareth’s shoulder. “Though truth be told I don't remember there being any structure of significance here.” He tapped at the map. The mine was marked clearly, the site used to dig the crystalised mana from the ground that went into making new decks. From what Gareth understood Wildermount had a handful of the mines whilst the Republic had none, something that was an assumed reason for their invasion. His politics lesson had come from someone in the inn who was semi-drunk, but it all sounded very plausible to Gareth.

“Did your empire stretch out this far? I thought the wyrmkin kingdom in the forest was going to be the furthest edge, before well…you know.” Gareth and his friends had found Sarkuran sealed in crystal in a chamber buried beneath the forest. The wyrmkin had tricked him into thinking they were joining his empire and then sealed him away when he came to visit his newest conquest. The destruction of the wyrmkin kingdom soon followed though the exact reason for their fall was still a mystery. The survivors had tasked themselves with watching over the sealed demon, and when Sarkuran was released Imelda had taken up that mantle, vowing to keep an eye on the freed lord as he wandered Acamida.

“Well no, that's partly the problem. There was nothing major that I was aware of, but it's entirely possible that I could simply have not known about it, or whatever is there was of little value and hardly worth my notice. Running an empire is a lot of work, things outside my territory were bound to escape my notice.”

Gareth folded the map roughly and tucked it under his arm, turning to face Sarkuran. The once almighty demon king was eating a sandwich with one hand, butter dripping onto his cloak. It was a look that robbed him of any grandeur.

“You've uh, got something on you,” Gareth said, pointing to the greasy smear. “Anyway, you knowing about where we're going was supposed to be our trump card.”

“And it is. Provided it’s something I actually know about. You know, Acamida was already an ancient world when I got here. I think. Things are a bit hazy from my early days. Either way, I know for a fact that ancient ruins posed a problem for my forces on occasion. This place could predate my era or have been built after I got sealed away. A thousand years is rather a long time.” Sarkuran tried to brush off the butter on his cloak, his attempt simply smearing it further across the cloth. “I suppose that’s the kind of thing I should say, but truth be told the time I was trapped is a blur. Sometimes it feels like I was frozen for an eternity, sometimes it’s like I was leading my nation only yesterday. It can be a little disorientating.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. We're in the same boat, I think. Or similar anyway. It still feels strange, like I could wake up at any moment and find this is all a dream. I wonder how long I was waiting to be judged? Minutes? Years? I’ll have to ask Magda at some point.”

“You would be wise not to take everything she says at face value,” Sarkuran said, waving his sandwich at Gareth. “The gods have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo, and I think you would agree that it’s hardly the fairest system in the universe.”

“How did you get picked, by this…Adversary? Do you remember anything about that?”

“Not much. The one thing I do remember is that I was offered a choice. Nothing was thrust upon me, my fate not decided by some unknowable entity filing me into a yes or no column.”

“Why would anyone ever say no?” Gareth said. He couldn’t imagine turning down the opportunity of another life.

“I couldn’t say. I certainly didn’t.”

“So, an entity offers you resurrection if you conquer a world and you don’t find that strange?”

“Oh certainly, but you have to remember, Acamida a thousand years ago was a brutal place. Wars everywhere, tiny kingdoms beset by monsters, rogue duellists roaming around like warlords. It wasn't so much conquest as simply bringing peace. I have no doubt that some offered this role took the opportunity to become despots. I however thought it better to try and establish a civilisation more akin to the world I came from. Which is ironic considering I now no longer remember it.” Sarkuran took a large bite from his sandwich, the move intended to be a sign that he was done discussing this particular topic.

“Fair enough.” Gareth waved to Magda from across the market. The two girls were collecting the last of the supplies. Once they were done the plan was to head out immediately. It was still barely past midday and getting a start on making their way out of the city would be the best way to spend the afternoon.

Gareth was excited. After a few weeks of doing nothing, he was eager to get back to advancing his level. It was fascinating to him just how much of a difference seeing his progression was making to his attitude. He had never been the kind of person who strived to better himself but having actual tangible proof that what he was doing was working seemed to spur him on. It helped that magic on Acamida mirrored the card games he loved and was helping him to fulfil a lifelong dream of making them real. Gareth wondered if he would feel the same if it was a place with more traditional magic, something with a mana bar or memorising spells daily.

Collecting the money for the tournament entry was just the start of being ready to enter. Gareth would need to expand his deck, including more cards until he reached the minimum. The temptation to wander off to the stalls selling cards had been difficult to resist. Gareth had no money to spare, not yet at least, and he would only be setting himself up for disappointment if something went wrong. Thankfully his affinity meant that his cards were cheap, very few people wanted them. Gareth was experienced enough to know that if he did well in the tournament that would change. Cards being rare and good was a recipe for a high price tag, and Acamida had to have its equivalent of speculators who would buy and sell cards like they were stocks. Gareth had dabbled with it, but only to fund building high-end decks. Some people did it for a living and that had always seemed like far too much work for him.

“I think we’ve got everything,” Imelda said, walking towards Gareth with her backpack pulled to her front. The item was runically enchanted, magic flowing through it. It allowed the pack to carry far more than it looked like it would, items vanishing inside easily.

Gareth had one of his own along with two more runic items tucked inside. He owned a staff and a mask, both of which enhanced his abilities. Getting more of the items was something on his list of long term goals, they were the equivalent of having an additional feat, something that only came every five levels otherwise. That wasn’t including the rare chance that an item could imprint on a person, transferring its ability into a new skill that could be increased far past the item’s power. So far Gareth had only gotten a skill from a magical map he had borrowed, but he was hoping with time he would be able to improve on his items. Especially his mask, the wooden thing was carved from the horn of a nature dragon and held to his head with tightly twisted vines. It itched against his skin when he wore it.

“You think, or you’re sure?” Sarkuran said. “I wouldn’t want to be caught out because we’ve forgotten something.”

“I’m sure,” Imelda said, glaring at her charge. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all. I’m just being cautious.”

“Trust me, she got everything. That list was long,” Magda said with the same tone as a child who had been taken shopping by their mother. “I never thought it would end.”

“Only downside is that prices here in the city are honestly, extortionate. Half this stuff would have just been free if I had gotten it from my clan. It makes no sense to charge for some of these things. Like rope. Rope! You can make it from vines that are just hanging off trees. We teach kids to make rope, it's not worth anything.” Imelda's normally pale skin turned a shade of pink as she became flustered. Dealing with the merchants had drained her. Imelda had always assumed that those willing to trade with the wyrmkin would be ripping them off, but she was surprised to find that the prices she was used to were on the lower end. It seemed that the merchants willing to travel out to the forest were so eager to get their hands on rare materials gather by the wyrmkin that they had given deep discounts. “We need this to go right, otherwise we’re down to our last few gold.”

“At least we won't have to pay for another week stay at the inn,” Gareth said with a shrug. He would miss his room but didn't particularly mind sleeping in a tent. He would miss the comforts, despite guards wearing chainmail and carrying longswords, Wildermount had running water, cold though it was. The ability to enchant items with runes made certain technologies much easier. Printed books were common, and Gareth had even enjoyed food fried in oil thanks to heating runes. Even his cards were an extension of the same system, his deck box an elaborate and powerful runic item.

“I’m quite looking forward to our trip,” Sarkuran said, the last of his sandwich swallowed as he had waited for Imelda. “Whilst I’m not exactly the most adept at camping, I am eager to see more of the world, even if we aren’t travelling very far.”

“Not adept at camping is an understatement,” Magda muttered. Not long after first meeting him, Sarkuran had attempted to pitch a tent, something that proved to be beyond his skills.

“I don’t recall you being any better at it.”

“I’m sure I’ll do fine. Imelda has been giving me advice as we shop. Long, boring advice that I didn’t ask for, but advice all the same.”

“Look,” Imelda said, annoyed that her help had gone unappreciated. “I’m just trying to spread my knowledge around. What if something happens to me and you’re all stuck in the wilderness? It’s a good idea to share our skillsets. Gareth helps us with cards, and you know Sarkuran loves to go off on historical tangents.”

“Come to think of it, the only one of us who doesn't have a useful skill is you, Mags,” Gareth said. “Unless of course, we need someone to squeeze under a low doorway or something.”

Chapter Three

It was startling just how quickly the world changed when you left the city. The bottom tier had two gates, one to the east and another to the west, forcing the party to leave through the eastern gate and wander through the shantytown outside the walls until they were travelling in the right direction. Once they had cleared the makeshift buildings that surrounded the city the party found themselves walking down a dirt road that meandered off through fields. Wildermount was encompassed on all sides by farmland. To the east was the forest that Imelda called home, the trees acting as a barrier between the kingdom and the mountains just beyond them. Past that rocky line was a land filled with dangerous monsters, a place that once housed the bulk of Sarkuran's empire if he was to be believed. South was Seahaven and the ocean, whilst the kingdom carried on for several weeks travel to the west and north.

Gareth didn't have a good sense of how far that was. He knew from talking about the brief war with the Republic that it took the Wildermount army three weeks to march out to the front. Three weeks of solid walking struck Gareth as a long way to travel, but his perception of distance was skewed by a lifetime of modern convenience. Cars, trains, aeroplanes, they all served to make the world feel a little bit smaller than it really was.

If the map was to be believed the mine was only a short trip northward. The mine was located just past a small wood, nestled at the foot of a mountain that rose into the sky, its tip visible from Wildermount itself on a clear day. Thankfully none of their journey would require climbing above sea level, mountaineering wasn't something that Gareth was looking forward to. He assumed it would happen at some point, after all, Acamida was a land of magic, and mountain peaks were prime wizard tower real estate.

It was early afternoon as the group left the last vestiges of the city behind. They were in good spirits despite the natural apprehension at having taken a quest that had claimed three parties already. It didn't bode well that there had been no sign of any of them, no fleeing duellist escaping from the ruins. Gareth already had plenty of experience in descending beneath the ground into damp tunnels to know that monsters loved to make the places their homes. Gremlins, Nephrop, Vhargulf, and a dozen other strange things had all tried to tear him apart. Without his deck he would have died within moments of arriving, and whilst he hated how the nobles of Wildermount had clutched tightly onto the power that decks brought, he couldn't deny that duellists filled a vital role in dealing with the more dangerous beasts.

As they walked Gareth took the opportunity to check his deck loadout.

Puny Goblin x 3

Goblin Soldier x3

Goblin Den Mother x1

Goblin Battlemaster x1

Goblin Shield Bearer x1

Goblin Catapult x1

Lightning Blast x3

Counterspell x 1

Goblin War Banner x 3

Total cards 17/22. Total mana Cost 27/35.

Gareth frowned. He would need another eight skill points to increase his maximum deck size past the minimum. That was two entire levels worth and didn’t include that he would need to increase his total mana cost limit as well. That second part he wasn’t bothered with, a higher total mana cost meant more powerful cards in his deck after all but pushing his deck size up that high and losing so many skill points to do it left a bad taste in his mouth. He hoped it was a one-time thing, that entering higher prestige events in the future wouldn’t need yet more cards in his deck.

“You guys should let me look at your decks when we get a chance. I think maybe it would be helpful for me to throw my eye over them. Especially if we can work out any combos we can try. Mags chucking her boosting spells on my shield bearer for example.” Synergy between cards was one of the things that Gareth loved about card games. There was a particular joy to finding that set of cards that worked together like a well-oiled machine.

“Perhaps,” Sarkuran said. “Though I was quite the duellist in my day, remember?”

“One with infinity levels and any card he wanted. Not quite the same thing,” Gareth said with a smirk. Sarkuran had been the equivalent of that one guy every local group had, the guy who had seemingly infinite money and could put together whatever the current top deck was instantly. Normally that same guy would struggle when asked to take part in something like a draft, a format where players picked from cards passed around a table and forced to make suboptimal parts work together. Amongst the games that supported it, it was often considered the most skill rewarding way to play.

“I understand what you’re saying, but it wasn’t quite like that. I had to work my way up from nothing. I’m positive I would have had to win my fair share of tight scraps. Of course, I can’t be one hundred per cent certain on that.” Sarkuran had lived a long time, even before he was trapped in crystal, his demonic form coming with increased longevity. The price for that was hitting the upper limit of memory that the mind was capable of.

“You had a rival, right? One of the gods’ chosen heroes.”

“Oh, I certainly did. Someone who thought they had this divine mandate to meddle in my affairs. Poking their nose in wherever it would cause most trouble. I definitely had few frantic duels with them. If only I could remember exactly who they were. I do recall they had a monster affinity for armoured knights.”

“Not really monsters, are they?” Magda said. She had the map in her hands and was leading the way towards their goal. It was a case of simply following the path forwards, so nobody had stepped in to stop her.

“I have assassins, they’re not monsters either,” Imelda said. She was walking just behind Magda, her hands clasping the straps of her backpack, the sun glinting off the tips of her horns.

“They're not real people though,” Gareth said. The creatures summoned by the cards were beings of pure mana, the card shaping the energy as they coalesced. This meant that whilst they looked like goblins, or dragons, or any number of things, they weren't living beings. “I think monsters is a fine term, considering that monster cards summon things.” Every menu screen that Gareth could access used the phrase, and it seemed likely that everyone else’s menu was identical. Magda had claimed that the level of menus that were accessible depended on how much natural magic there was in a world. They existed on Earth but were invisible simply because there was so little magical energy in Gareth’s home. In theory that meant places with more magic than Acamida had even more options, though Gareth could hardly imagine what they were. Decks were apparently just one way of casting spells.

“You think it's possible for us to learn runecrafting?” Gareth said. The thought had been on his mind for a while. In a way, it was the purest method of interacting with Acamida's mana. Adding another ability to his repertoire would be useful.

“Possibly, if you’ve got a decade or two to spare,” Imelda said. “It’s not exactly the easiest thing to learn. Takes a long time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s doable, but you would have to suddenly dedicate all your time to learning to craft.”

“Best not. That’s something for another lifetime maybe. Still, it would be a good idea to find a runecrafter willing to work for us, right?”

“There’s one back in Knopton, isn’t there?” Magda said. She turned the map in her hands, realising she had been holding it upside down the entire time. “Maybe we can take anything we find to them?”

Gareth nodded, then realised that as he was at the back of the line no one could see him. “Yeah, you've got a point. The guy who made my mask was a runecrafter. What was his name? Hans? Yeah, Hans, that sounds right.”

“No offence, but I'm not keen on going back to the forest any time soon. After all, I did just vanish into the night and not tell my mother where I was going.” Imelda let her head hang limp for a moment. “I can't imagine she would be happy about it.”

“Nor with my removal from beneath the village, I suspect,” Sarkuran added.

“Well, hopefully, she'll never find out about that part.”

“That's a hope I share. I still don't know how I got encased in crystal and I would rather not repeat the experience honestly.”

“We can maybe send it to him from the city?” Gareth was just saying the first idea that came to his head. “If merchants go to the village occasionally maybe we can have them take a package with anything magical we find?”

“Not a bad idea, honestly,” Imelda said. “We do have the moss we found in the undercity still. It had that tell-tale golden glow.”

“You’re welcome to whatever gets made out of the weird smelly slimy stuff,” Magda said with a shudder. “I’ll skip on that one.”

***

The party set up camp off the side of the road as night began to fall. They had walked most of the afternoon and all of the evening, and even Imelda had started to feel tired. Despite this, she had set the two tents up herself, pitching them both with impressive speed. One had been designated for the men, whilst the women took the other. A small fire had been set up between them, an iron cauldron set on a tripod atop it. Warm stew was boiling within, a handful of chopped vegetables and cubes of meat floating in a thick broth. Imelda had bought mostly dried rations to last the trip but wyrmkin tradition dictated that the first meal of a trip be cooked with fresh food so that the journey could begin in high spirits. From the eager eyes watching the pot boil, it was a decision that was proving popular.

“I think we can just help ourselves now, it’s been long enough,” Magda said, reaching for the ladle hanging off the side of the cauldron. Her hand was slapped away by Imelda.

“Not yet. It needs another fifteen minutes before it’s really good. It’ll take that long for the roots to break down and become soft. That’s the key. Trust me on this.”

“All I know is that I’m hungry now. You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Being hungry…and what comes after that. No thank you, mortals can keep that to themselves as far as I’m concerned.”

“Even when I was a demon I still ate when I could. There's a simple joy to a meal that's hard to explain. I think you understand that, I saw you devour that roll at breakfast time. You'll learn that there's a lot of things like that to mortal life, things that you would miss if you were to regain your divine form.” Sarkuran was lying flat against the ground, staring up into the sky above him. “Like the stars, for example,” he said, gesturing to the night sky above him. “You’ve spent your life looking down at infinite worlds, but have you ever seen them arrayed like this?”

“Wait,” Gareth said, looking upwards, “is Earth up there?”

“No,” Magda said, shimmying across the grass in an attempt to sneak closer to the fire. “It depends on the world itself. Acamida is the only world in this universe with life. In yours there are thousands maybe. Don’t ask me why that is, I don’t know. That decision was higher up the chain than I ever was.”

“Huh, never thought aliens could exist. At least Earth’s reality has that going for it even if it doesn’t have magic.”

There was an odd noise that punctured through the darkness, a shrill singsong wail that shifted in pitch. In unison the party stood up, their hands dropping to their deck boxes. They were still within sight of the city, the braziers atop the walls flickering in the distance, but that didn’t mean it was safe.

“Everyone else heard that, right?” Magda said, scanning the darkness. “That’s not a normal noise.”

Another wail drifted through the night. It was closer this time, and the party shifted on their heels as they turned to face the sound.

Standing a few meters away, at the edge of a field filled with waist-high stalks of wheat, was a small creature. It had a squat stubby nose and a hunched posture, its body flabby and round. Thick powerful legs were bent at the knee whilst its short arms bore hands that had unnaturally long fingers, the creature supporting the weight of its body on their tips. The thing was glowing faintly, a throbbing blue light shining through its otherwise pale skin in rhythmic pulses.

“Uh, what is that thing?” Gareth said, pointing at the bizarre thing.

“That’s a Starchild, a kind of nightmare,” Sarkuran said. He had an affinity for the unspeakable things that existed between worlds and was the closest thing to an expert the party had on them. They had battled a nest of the beasts in the undercity, sickening things that offended the senses. “Perhaps it escaped from the undercity when it was opened, or maybe the battle created a new exit?” Sarkuran was whispering, trying not to scare the creature. “We should deal with it, quickly. Try not to startle-”

Magda took a step forward, the edge of her boot catching one of the legs on the tripod holding the cauldron above the fire. The contraption tipped, the cauldron crashing against the ground and spilling its contents across the grass.

The creature let out another wail as it turned and ran into the wheat field behind it, the stalks rustling as it pushed them aside.

“After it!” Sarkuran said any attempt at stealth dropped from his voice. “We can't let that thing escape!” He took off running, Gareth and Magda following behind him. Imelda followed a moment after, taking her time to toss some water onto the fire.

“Is there a reason we're chasing this thing?” Gareth said between gasped breaths. He had never been one for running or any exercise at all for that matter. Living on Acamida had changed that somewhat, walking everywhere was a necessity and junk food wasn’t as common and plentiful as it was on Earth. The benefits were adding up, Gareth had to admit that.

“A Starchild is a transitionary form. If left it will transmute into something considerably deadlier. I assume that your desire to become a hero would necessitate intervention?”

Quest Accepted: Slay the Starchild.

Reward: Unknown.

“Fine, you're right.” Gareth had to admit that sometimes his desire to prove the gods wrong was more trouble than it was worth but leaving a dangerous creature roaming the countryside when he could have done something about it would only make him feel guilty if something happened. Besides, experience points were experience points, and if he made Wildermount a little safer in the process then so be it.

The creature continued its flight through the field, the glowing light within it and the rustling of the wheat announcing its presence. It was making noise as it ran, a series of shifting screams and cries that echoed through the night air.

Up ahead, at the other side of the field, was a small house nestled next to a cluster of trees. It was a simple thing, a construct of wood and stone with only a single floor and a simple chimney through which a faint trail of smoke was drifting. Near the structure, tucked within the trees, were more pulsing blue lights.

“It looks like this thing isn’t alone,” Imelda said. She had caught up easily, a lifetime of surviving in the forest making her the most athletic member of the party by far. She had taken to jogging around the lower tier of the city every morning to maintain her fitness level. Each time she extended an offer for the others to join her, and each time they had simply looked at her like she had suggested a heinous crime.

“A concerning development.” Sarkuran came to a stop and held out an arm, a signal for the others to copy him. The creature had left the field and was bounding towards the house. “If there’s multiple of them then we need to be cautious, it’s possible one or more have already transmogrified into new forms. It’s impossible to know exactly what they’ve become.”

Quest updated: Slay the nightmares.

Reward: Unknown.

“Fantastic. Nothing is ever easy, is it? A fire is going in that house, do you think that there are people in there?” Gareth was confident that the party could deal with the creatures, provided that there wasn't already unholy abominations lurking beyond the treeline. If there were people holed up in the house, then keeping them safe would make their job more difficult.

“Maybe,” Imelda said. “I can't imagine that these things would be stoking it. Depends on how long they've been out here, right? So, what's the plan, Gareth?”

“What makes you think I have one?”

“You are kind of the plans guy,” Magda said.

“It is a skill you seem to possess,” Sarkuran added. “Honestly, if I were still running my empire, I’m certain you might have risen up in the ranks. Maybe not too high, but somewhat at least.”

“Thanks, I think?” Gareth squinted as he tried to count the number of lights. It was difficult, their pulsing making it tough to tell exactly which was which. He was certain there was at least five of them, but it was likely there were more. He stood there silently for a moment and watched the lights as he thought.

“Any time now,” Magda said, poking Gareth in the ribs.

“I’m thinking! Ok. We’ll hit them hard and fast, try to take out as many as we can before they can react. Sark, I want you to check the house, your deck takes longer to get going than the rest of us. Everyone else, we should prioritise summoning as many monsters as possible.”

“Understood,” Sarkuran said. He looked at Imelda who nodded back at him. Being allowed to go off on his own was a big step, the wyrmkin normally locked to his side. Saving her during the siege rather than taking the opportunity to escape had earned him some degree of trust. “I'll head for the house once you've begun your attack,” he said as he vanished into the field.

“Ok, we go on three.” Gareth pointed towards the treeline. “Rush right at them as we summon. Ready?”

“I suppose,” Magda said.

“Ready,” Imelda said with a nod.

Gareth swung his backpack around and reached inside. He removed his mask and staff. He shuddered as he slipped the rough wood over his face, the eyes on the mask glowing orange as he adjusted the strap. “Ok, one, two…three.”

The duellists charged out from the field, light flowing around them as they opened their deck boxes and unleashed the magic within. The light solidified into a selection of cards hovering above their left hands, art depicting the magic within on one side and ornate swirling patterns on the rear. By their left hands, hovering just over their knuckles were glowing blue orbs. Each was a collection of mana, magical energy spent to cast their spells.

Gareth glanced at his cards as he ran. The last time he had gained a level he had unlocked a skill that allowed him to upgrade the number of cards he started with. He had five, rather than the usual four, but even one extra card could make all the difference. He had drawn two war banners, a Goblin Soldier, a puny goblin and the den mother, one of his newest cards. A plan began to form in Gareth’s mind.

He touched the Puny Goblin first, the card turning into a bolt of light that twisted into the goblin’s form. It was running alongside him, its rags flapping in the breeze. The mana orbs floating above his hand remained unchanged, his mask reducing the cost of his first summon by one. That made the goblin free, useful because Gareth planned on spending the rest of it.

A flick of the wrist sent another bolt of light arcing into the darkness, a Goblin Soldier taking shape. It ran with its oversized sword resting on its shoulder, its makeshift chainmail clinking as it moved.

The nightmares had responded in kind, surging out from the trees. There was more than Gareth had expected, easily a dozen of the things sprinting past the house.

Gareth was glad he had goblins at his beck and call. They were cheap, and his abilities were boosting them beyond what their low statistics would allow. His Goblinkind skill was giving them an additional ten to attack and defence, and Gareth added further to that number by summoning a war banner, one of his feats negating the cost of the relic. A makeshift banner made from a broom handle, a bucket, and a pair of used underpants appeared next to Gareth, red energy flowing out like a mist. Its strengthening effect was significant, adding another hundred to the statistics of his monsters.

The others had done their best, summoning what they could. Magda had two cherubs floating at her side, the chubby winged angels launching golden arrows at the nightmares with surprising potency. Imelda had sent two of her bandits surging forwards, a magical arrow flying past them to fill one of the nightmares with a paralysing poison. The bandits were the ideal counter to the tide of small abominations, provided that the assumptions about their strength were correct. Defeated bandits returned to Imelda's hand of cards, allowing her to resummon them constantly.

Gareth brought himself to a sudden stop, the toes of his boots digging into the ground. He had two mana left to use and needed to add more to their force before they got overwhelmed. He summoned his newest card, the den mother taking shape before him.

She was larger than he had expected, easily a full head's height over the other goblins. Her skin was covered in craggy wrinkles, whilst the tips of her ears drooped downwards. She held a walking stick in her hands, her body hunched over as she put her weight upon it. Thankfully the goblin was wearing a simple robe made of burlap, a section of sack repurposed to cover her ancient modesty.

A wall of cards appeared before Gareth, flying rapidly from his deck box. The den mother allowed him to take any goblin card he wanted from his deck when she was summoned and add it to his hand. Gareth resisted the desire to search for an expensive card like his shield bearer or battlemaster, choosing instead to add a lowly Puny Goblin. He had one mana remaining and being able to add another combatant immediately would be more useful. Whilst his monsters were alive the mana used to summon them wouldn't regenerate anyway, keeping the creatures coherent required constant investment.

The head of Gareth’s staff flashed. As he had been casting cards motes of amber light had gathered around it. Now it was charged the energy had automatically been spent to draw another card from his deck. A Lightning Blast, a spell that had proven incredibly useful over and over. Gareth could cast it, but it would use up the last of his mana until it regenerated, and summoning the goblin he had searched for would be better in the long run.

A Starchild had slipped past the line of summoned monsters, rushing towards the den mother. She simply stared at the oncoming nightmare with her beady red eyes and as it drew close swung her walking stick in one swift motion. She caught it on the side of its head, black blood flying into the air, the pulsing light fading as the creature slumped to the ground.

“Good job,” Gareth said as he summoned his second Puny Goblin. He had no idea if the monsters even understood the concept of praise, but the mana forged beings definitely showed bursts of personality on occasion. “Go and take out as many as you can. We can’t leave these things alive.”

Chapter Four

Sarkuran could hear the sounds of fighting as he snuck towards the house, keeping as low as he could to cloak himself in shadows. He had faith the others could deal with the Starchildren, the creatures weren't particularly strong until they could transform. If some of them had, there would be trouble, but Sarkuran was certain that anything bigger would have already made its presence known. Nightmares had very little rhyme or reason to their actions, aside from devouring or destroying anything they came across. The arrival of several fresh meals would have drawn bigger beasts from hiding.

He wasn't hopeful for anyone who was living inside the house to have survived. Chances were the fire was still burning from the last of the logs that had been tossed in. Sarkuran agreed that they needed to check just in case. He had risen to power through careful pragmatism. More sadistic rulers would have written off the lives of a handful of farmers, but Sarkuran knew that if the populace thought you were on their side then it was much easier to get what you wanted from them. Nobody hated ruled forever.

As he approached the house Sarkuran opened his deck box, summoning a hand of cards. It was best to be prepared, he didn’t know what to expect inside the house itself. He chose not to summon anything yet, he had two Gibbering Mouthers in hand, and they were hardly the most comforting things in the world. In the unlikely event that someone was alive inside Sarkuran didn’t need them panicking at the sight of the monsters.

Pushing himself tight against the stones of the house, Sarkuran took a moment to adjust his cape. First impressions were important. Staying tight to the wall he approached the doorway, stretching out an arm to the handle. He took a deep breath and pushed it open, twisting about into the doorway.

The inside of the house was not what Sarkuran expected.

He had two possible options in his mind that he had prepared himself for. The first, and most likely in Sarkuran’s opinion, was that there would be no one to save, the residents either dead or long since fled. The other was that they would be cowering behind a flipped up table, farming equipment brandished as weaponry.

Instead, the sight he saw was the worst possible option, one that he had dismissed as too unlikely. Two people were standing in the centre of the house, elaborate runes painted onto the floor with thick blue paint. Faint light glowed from them, casting light up into the room. The figures were wearing thick black robes, long daggers held in their hands. One of them had a hand of cards floating before them, the white light around them shimmering off a metal mask.

“Oh, come on,” Sarkuran said. “In what universe does this seem like a good idea?”

The figures turned to face the newcomer; their knives bared. Between them, the universe seemed to shimmer, a set of long fingers pushing through into reality. The one with the deck touched the cards before them and summoned a creature in a pillar of light. A squat thing appeared, its skin a shade of light blue, a stone club clutched in its thick muscles. It was short, barely up to the caster's waist.

“It doesn't have to go like this,” Sarkuran said as he summoned a monster in being. A gibbering mouther slapped its wet tongue against the paint-stained floor as it faced down its opponent. “I can tell you this, messing about with these things never ends well. What did they promise you? Power? These beings only want in, they don’t care about you.” The whispers, that’s what people called it. The most powerful nightmares could slide thoughts into your mind. Once you opened yourselves up to them, they became incessant, begging and pleading to be released. Sarkuran had dealt with cults dedicated to them a handful of times during his reign. It seemed like it was an eternal element of human nature. Eventually, someone would fall for their false promises.

“Kill him!” cried the deck wielding cultist, urging their monster to strike.

The club-wielding monster lifted its weapon, rushing at Sarkuran. He recognised it for what it was, a cragling, a kind of juvenile troll. Myth held that trolls were creatures of stone, eternal and unbreakable. In truth they were flesh and blood, their fortitude the result of natural regeneration, the ability growing stronger as they got older. If a troll of advanced enough age lost a chunk of flesh, the severed section would grow into a cragling, a small copy of its gigantic parent. Eventually, the cragling would grow into a full-fledged troll over time, and it was through this method that trolls reproduced. This meant that tribes often consisted of identical clones, all spawned from the same ancient ancestor.

Sarkuran smiled. He had gained several levels since being released from his crystal prison, and this was the perfect chance to test out his newly gained feat. The cragling brought its club crashing down on the Gibbering Mouth. The nightmares fluid form bent beneath the weight of the weapon, then with a loud pop it split into two smaller creatures.

Flexible Flesh was Sarkuran’s new toy. Once per turn, when a Gibbering Mouth he controlled would die it would instead split into two smaller copies with half the attack and defence each. For an affinity that relied on sacrificing weaker monsters, it was a powerful boon, not just preserving his monsters but increasing their number.

Darkness filled the room for a moment, a horrid swirling black that swept up the two halves of the Gibbering Mouth. It coalesced into a shadowy figure, one with wings and long talons, dark red eyes glowing in its ephemeral form. Sarkuran had summoned forth his Reality Stalker, a powerful creature that he was hoping would swing the fight in his favour.

That chance never came. Whilst the nightmare he had summoned was an artificial construct formed of mana, the shimmer at the back of the room began to pulse rhythmically, almost in response to the stalker's arrival. A piercing shriek filled the room as dozens of writhing tentacles lashed through, wrapping around the cultists, close as they were to the portal. They vanished, pulled through into the space between realities.

“Well, I did warn you,” Sarkuran said. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his stomach. The rift was growing larger, expanding across the back wall of the farmhouse. Something was coming, something big and no doubt hungry. Deciding that facing it alone wasn’t the smartest idea, Sarkuran turned and ran out the front door, the regal bearing he held himself to discarded in his haste.

***

The squelching noise made Gareth feel ill as the blade of his Goblin Soldier slid into the belly of a nightmare. The enemy were falling quickly, unable to overcome the boosted statistics of his goblins. His minions had formed a defensive ring around him, drawing the majority of the Starchildrens' ire. The girls were handling themselves confidently. One of the horrid monsters had gotten a swipe in at Magda, triggering her shield. Unfortunately for the creature she had drawn her legendary Smite card from it and was enjoying using the searing light repeatedly as it had refreshed.

The last of the nightmares fell, the den mother claiming the glory of the final kill with a swing of her walking stick. Summoning her had been a useful demonstration of a concept that Gareth had tried time and time again to explain to his friends. In a fight between two deck wielders, whoever could cast the most cards had an edge. The den mother replaced herself, providing another card once she was summoned. That it let you choose which card specifically was an extra boon. Using her card had let Gareth bolster his numbers and had been an excellent example of the benefits.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Starchild defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Cultists defeated. 50 experience points gained.

Enemy Duellist defeated. 183 experience points gained.

Level up – level 17 reached.

Current Exp 64/1345

Four skill points gained.

The barrage of notifications was almost too much for Gareth. Seeing the words floating in his vision was distracting. After the siege, the notification had been more succinct, and Gareth assumed there had to be a particular number of enemy combatants that triggered the difference. Fourteen didn't seem to be it, though the last two notifications had come as a surprise to him. It wasn't an unwelcome one, they had been enough to tip Gareth over into the next level.

His eyes caught something moving quickly towards him in the darkness. It took Gareth a moment to realise that it was Sarkuran. He was sprinting directly at the party with a speed that Gareth didn’t know he was capable of.

“Run!” Sarkuran was waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice. “Get clear!”

For a moment, Gareth was everywhere, but also nowhere. Streams of colours he thought only possible in dreams swirled around him. He saw a glimpse of something, a being beyond comprehension, a shifting form of impossible shapes and shifting tentacles. The motes of light were flowing into it, almost like the entity was the heart of a swirling vortex.

In an instant Gareth was back where he had been standing, reality snapping back to its rightful state. There was a buzzing in his mind, a pounding drumbeat that rattled at the back of his eyes. He felt a little sick—like he had just gotten off a particularly rickety fairground ride.

“Everyone else saw that, right?” Gareth’s voice was hoarse, the words struggling to find their way out from his throat.

“What was that?” Imelda was rubbing the sides of her horns, a throbbing pain shooting through them. “I was somewhere else, with that…thing.”

“We saw a glimpse of the space between. I found no frightened farmers in that house,” Sarkuran pointed a thumb over his shoulder, “rather I encountered a pair of cultists intent on summoning something they shouldn't. I'm assuming the Starchildren around here are their work. Thankfully, it seems they bit off rather more than they can chew. I think the portal collapsed, rather than allowing through what they were attempting to bring forth. I've read about this happening, of people caught in the magical fallout getting a glimpse of that other place. The stories say it turns you mad, but we seem to have been mercifully spared that fate. I suppose our brief encounters with nightmares have served to inoculate us perhaps?”

Gareth nodded along as Sarkuran spoke. It was hard to argue with what he was saying. The vision had been brief, a fleeting glance, and even that had made Gareth feel ill. One member of the group had fallen worryingly silent.

“Mags, you ok?” Gareth said.

“What, oh, yes, fine. Felt a bit weird for a moment there, but I’m ok.” Magda closed her deck box, the cherub floating behind her transforming back into energy. “Not sure what you’re on about though, I didn’t see anything. Just felt odd for a second or two.”

“Interesting. Perhaps your previous nature has rendered you with an immunity of sorts?” Putting on hand on the bottom of his chin Sarkuran took a step closer to Magda, his eyes squinting as he leant his body towards her. “Perhaps some experimentation might be in order.”

“No way! You think I’m letting you near me to do anything like that then you’re insane. If you want to experiment with something we can see how far my boot can get up your backside!”

Quest completed: Slay the nightmares.

Reward: 400 experience points.

Gareth was used to getting more experience from completed quests, but he wasn’t going to turn up his nose at four hundred experience, especially when he hadn’t expected the quest in the first place. He knew what they had to do next and could already predict the responses.

“We need to check out that house. Make sure everything in there is safe so this can’t happen again. If we can learn who these people were that would be useful as well,” he said. In his mind, he silently counted to three.

“Why? It’s not our problem. If people want to mess around with things they shouldn’t, well, that’s on them isn’t it?” Magda said on cue. “I think we should stay well clear, personally.”

“Gareth is right. We should ensure that whatever ritual the cultists were performing has finished and take steps to prevent it from happening again. The portal has sealed for now, but nightmares are persistent beings.” Sarkuran adjusted his cloak slightly, the heavy cloth had slipped out of position as he had run from the building. “It’s rather fortunate that we were in the area, honestly.”

“I wouldn’t call us being nearby lucky, at least not for us anyway. This could have gone badly,” Imelda said. “If what you say about those little ones changing is true.”

“It is, though if they had transformed, we would know it by now.”

“Come on, the quicker we check this house the quicker we can get back to our tents. It's starting to get cold out.” Gareth put his hands on his arms and rubbed them up and down vigorously in an attempt to fight back the chill. With neither the pleasing heat of the campfire or the rush of adrenaline to keep him warm the night air was beginning to make him shiver. Wispy clouds were starting to take shape before him as he exhaled. Gareth realised he had lost track of time, for all he knew it could be past midnight.

That was one thing he missed from Earth that he had never even considered. Clocks were everywhere you looked, constant reminders of what the time was. Clocks certainly existed on Acamida, but they were elaborate things that were placed upon walls with reverence. There was one on the wall of the Troll and Bridge's bar, a complex thing of clunking gears and intricate engineering that didn't feel particularly accurate to Gareth.

“Fine. Whatever gets me back to that stew quicker, I’m starving,” Magda said.

“You spilt it all, remember?” Imelda said, putting a sympathetic hand on Magda's shoulder. “And I don't have any of the ingredients left. It's biscuits and jerky for us tonight.”

“Ugh, of course. Of course! Is this what it’s like, being mortal? Just constant disappointment over and over?”

“More or less,” Gareth said. “You get used to it.”

***

There was a smell in the air that Gareth couldn't quite place. It was an almost metallic tang but had odd undernotes of citrus. It seemed to be everywhere as if the scent had permeated the foundations of the house.

The scene was about what Gareth had expected. A large painted on set of runes arranged in a circle, large oversized leather-bound books scattered around the room, sets of half-melted candles, their wicks flickering as they spluttered out. All that was missing were the robed figures holding a knife above someone's head, ready to sacrifice them to their dark gods. From what Sarkuran had described they had been present, only to suffer an ironic fate.

“So…what now?” Gareth said.

“What do you mean what now? This was your idea.” Magda prodded a nearby tome with her foot.

“Well, I’m not exactly experienced with magic, am I? Cards I can do. This is something else.”

“It’s a runic circle. All magic is ultimately manipulated through runes, they’re the language of mana. With the right sequence of symbols, you can instruct the magical energy around you to perform the task you’re after. It’s how runic items work, along with your cards.” Sarkuran stepped nearer the circle. It wasn’t glowing anymore, a sign that whatever ritual the cultists had been doing had died with them. He scuffed his boot across the paint and was pleased to see it rub off the floor.

“So, like code then? Like in a computer?”

“I have no idea what a computer is,” Sarkuran said. “I think you forget sometimes that we’re not of the same world.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Doesn’t matter anyway. What are we looking for, Sark?”

Sarkuran bent down and picked up one of the books. “These. It’s unlikely the people here knew how to create the ritual without instruction. They will have copied it from one of these tomes. Probably stolen from some collection in the city. I imagine it was easier for whatever elder thing was whispering to these poor fools to direct them towards a book to steal rather than teaching them the intricate rules of runic magic.”

“So, if we take the books, nobody can do this again?” Imelda said. She picked up a book from a rough wooden table and examined the cover. It was bound in cracked red leather; the paper yellowed from age.

“Assuming that nobody made copies, yes. Bag please,” Sarkuran said, pointing at Gareth with the book in his hands. He placed it into the opening of his comrade’s backpack, the book vanishing into the magical space inside. “We should remove as much of this circle as we can as well. No point making things easy.”

“Why would someone do this?” Imelda said, tucking the book she was carrying under her arm and picking up another. “What could they possibly hope to gain from doing it?”

“Power. People will do anything for it in my experience.”

“Especially when they have none.” Gareth had picked up a book from the top of a nearby stack. It was much smaller than the others, little more than a pamphlet. The paper cover was emblazoned with words that had gathered his interest.

Revolution now!

Flicking the book open it had become immediately apparent what the pamphlet was about. It was a treatise on the unfairness of Wildermount society, how a handful of noble families kept an oppressive grip on both power and the wealth that came with it. The text explicitly called for the different races to band together, citing the Duellist’s Guilds lies about who could use decks as proof of duplicity.

Gareth agreed with the text in principle. Earth wasn’t perfect, it certainly had its share of political problems, but at least it had progressed past a feudal society, mostly. His world's history was proof that eventually, people would rise up against what oppressed them, with sometimes violent results. Harnessing the power of nightmares was a step too far for Gareth. Fighting for your beliefs was a noble thing, unleashing cosmic monstrosities that could devour reality was definitely an extreme reaction.

“I think these people were trying to give themselves the tools to lead a revolution or take part in one at least,” Gareth said, brandishing the pamphlet in his right hand. “Not sure this is the way to go about it.”

“We should report this to the city watch,” Sarkuran said, dragging his foot across the circle of runes. “There could be others involved.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Gareth said. “They would have been here helping otherwise, right?”

“I suppose. Still, we should at least let the authorities know that someone is inciting the people.”

Gareth’s shoulders dropped. “I guess. I don’t like it, it feels wrong. People should be free to express their opinions, especially if the people in power disagree, but I suppose if there’s someone else out there planning something like this.” The words turned his stomach as he said them. Gareth had never been someone with much money, and it felt like he was betraying his own kind in a way.

“I don’t like it either,” Imelda said, looking directly into Gareth’s eyes. “Gods know how many people think that the way things are is a load of kark. Especially people like me. But I think Sarkuran is right. What else are we going to do? Go find everyone who has that pamphlet and knock on their doors asking if they’re planning on summoning any monsters from beyond our world? We’ve got our own problems to deal with.”

There was a loud clink. Magda had stayed out of the conversation so far, understanding that in a discussion that was based around the pursuit of equality, someone who used to be a god probably had little say in the matter. She noticed something gleaming on the floor and had bent down to pick it up.

“Hey, look at this,” she said, holding aloft a long curved knife. There was an array of complex runes etched onto its side. “I got a notification for it. This thing is runic.”

Sarkuran took a step closer, his hand resting on his chin as he leant in to inspect the blade. “one of the cultists was carrying this when I interrupted them. I suppose they must have dropped it when…well, they took a trip with a rather abrupt end to it. Perhaps stolen from whatever place they took the books from?”

Gareth stretched out his hand with his palm open. “May I?” he said.

Magda nodded and passed the knife over to him. The entire party agreed that Gareth was the best amongst them at understanding the interaction between cards, skills, feats and runic items.

Runic item obtained. Blade of the eternal void. Once per turn you may destroy one nightmare you control. If you do look at the top three cards of your deck and summon one nightmare monster from among them without paying its mana or devour cost.

“Oh wow, this is perfect for Sarkuran,” Gareth said, passing the knife over to the nightmare user. “That will really help you get out your powerful cards faster.”

“Hey! I found it. That means I get first shout at it,” Magda said, trying and failing to snatch the weapon from Sarkuran. “That’s how it worked with your items.”

“My items were given to me by other people. And importantly they work specifically for goblins. You planning on adding some nightmares to your deck, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Well, then there you go.”

“Whilst it might seem self-serving, Gareth does have a point,” Sarkuran said. He held up the blade, moonlight creeping in from the houses single small window glimmering off the edge. “It’s probably best to ensure that any items we obtain go to the person who has the deck best suited to using them, even if that means some of us end up with more equipment. That’s just common sense.”

“Fine! Fine! Just hope I get something neat soon. It’s no fun being left out,” Magda said with a pout.

“If it makes you feel better, that item is good, but there is a catch.” Gareth stuffed the pamphlet into his backpack and swung the bag over his shoulder. “If there’s no monster in those top three cards then Sarkuran will have destroyed a monster for nothing. Or he could hit something that isn’t an upgrade at all. It’s very random. Powerful if it works, but that if is doing a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Still, having the option is much appreciated.” Sarkuran opened his cloak and tucked the dagger through his belt. “Certainly, should be useful once we enter that tournament.”

“So, you’re looking forward to that now?” Gareth said, a slight smile across his lips.

“Oh yes. I must warn you though, if I enter a contest,” Sarkuran began to walk forward, placing a hand on Gareth shoulder as he passed, “I intend to win.”

Chapter Five

The light of the sun burnt Gareth's tired eyes. They had returned to the campsite the night before to find a pack of dogs lapping up the remains of the spilt stew. After shooing them off he had attempted to get some sleep but had only managed a handful of hours before the sun rose, its light shining through the thin material of the cheap tents the party had bought. Gareth's waking with the dawn had put him in a bad mood, and he had taken to walking at the back of the line to prevent the others from having to put up with his grumbling. They had managed to sleep much longer than he had, and he had spent the first few hours of being awake stewing by the dying embers of the fire and eating a flavourless biscuit.

They had decided as a group—once everyone was awake—that they would wait until they had returned from completing their quest before they reported what had happened to the guards. Whilst Wildermount was barely a day behind them, they were all eager to find out what awaited them at the mines.  The party’s spirits were elevated, they had gone up against a group of nightmares and had come out victorious, even if the monsters that had faced were all fairly weak. Knowing that they had prevented something that could have caused untold carnage to innocent people made them feel good about themselves. Of course, they had no evidence that they had won, the bodies of the nightmares collapsing into rapidly evaporating sludge, but that didn’t bother anyone aside from Gareth.

The road continued onwards towards the mountain in the distance. On each side was more farmland, the landscape dominated by agriculture. Here and there Gareth caught sight of people working in the fields. Occasionally a wagon trundled past and he wondered if it would have been worth the expense of hiring one. He had no idea how to control a horse, it would be something he would have to learn if he was going to spend the rest of his life on Acamida. A brief thought wandered into Gareth's mind. Affinities seemed like they could be nearly anything, within his small group they had goblins, angels, assassins and nightmares. Perhaps someone out there had an affinity for horses. Gareth wondered what that would look like.

Gareth had always been a city boy. There was something about having buildings around him that made him feel safe. They had a certain kind of energy to them, the thrum of life permeating every stone. The all-encompassing green around him was a little overwhelming, it was like floating in an off-colour ocean, nothing around as far as the eye could see. He had lost sight of Wildermount for the time being, the keep of the city hidden by a nearby cluster of trees. The mountain in the distance was growing rapidly larger, and Gareth wondered if it meant that the area between Wildermount and the mine was technically a valley. Geography had never been his strong point.

Silence had fallen on the group as they travelled, the effort of walking robbing them of their words. Gareth took the opportunity to assign his new skill points. The choice was simple, made for him by the requirements of the tournament he intended to enter. The menu appeared in his vision, a moment’s focus all it took to activate it. Opening his skills menu Gareth scrolled the list with a thought, stopping on the skill he was looking for.

Deck size: Increases the maximum size of your deck. Increases by five cards for every two ranks.

He had four ranks in it already, a decision Gareth had made so that he could fit the newer cards into his deck. It was the optimal choice, but he was glad to have made it now. He had started with a twelve card limit, and the points he had spent already pushed that to twenty-two. He winced and poured all four of his new points into the skill. With his new thirty-two card limit it would take another four points before he reached the minimum for the tournament. It annoyed Gareth a little that the event required forty cards rather than the forty-two limit he would end up with.

With his points spent, Gareth closed his menu. He had become intimately familiar with it, spending a little time each night examining its options. It had struck him as a good idea, the people of Acamida, even those without decks, had lived their entire lives with it. Any secrets it held would be common knowledge, but it was considered uncouth to talk about it with others. That made some sense, back on Earth talking about how much money you made would often gather unapproving stares, the assumption being that you were trying to brag. The same would be true of levels. Casually dropping just how high you were risked seeming like you were showing off.

“Hey,” Gareth said, his voice croaking slightly. “Can we take a break? My legs are really starting to ache.” It had to be nearing midday from the position of the sun. The heat was washing off Gareth’s skin, turning it a bright shade of pink. He made a mental note of stopping by an apothecary when he could to see if there was an Acamidan version of sunscreen.

“We could,” Imelda said. Notably, she kept on walking as she spoke. “Or we can keep going and get there quicker. We've still got two days to go at this pace.”

“Yeah, but if I fall over from exhaustion how much longer would that add?”

“Fine. Fine. You know, it’s a wonder you survived in the forest at all.”

“That’s because he had my help,” Magda said, prodding herself the chest with her thumb. “I don’t want to overstate how helpful I was, but he would be dead and gone.”

“You sent me here! If I had died in the forest it would have been entirely your fault. You could have sent me to the world comprised of entirely bikini beach babes but no, it had to be here.” Gareth came to a stop and let his backpack slide off him onto the ground. It made a thump as it hit the dirt. The bag had a magically enlarged space within, but it was definitely slowly getting heavier as more and more was loaded into it.

Imelda rolled her eyes. “I guess we are stopping then.” She removed her pack and took a seat on a section of an old stone wall that ran periodically down the side of the road. It was only maintained when a farmhouse stood nearby, no doubt by the owners of the home in an attempt to make their land more presentable.

“What levels are we all?” Gareth said, taking a seat next to Imelda. “I know talking about it isn't a done thing, but if we're going to be taking on dangerous quests, I think that knowing is more important than any embarrassment.”

“Nothing embarrassing to me, I’m level seventeen,” Magda said, smiling proudly at what she had achieved. “Not too bad I don’t think.”

“No, that’s the same as me.” That made sense to Gareth, he had only earned a few points of experience before meeting Magda and she had been with him the entire time.

“Fifteen for me,” Sarkuran said. “I always thought that old taboo was rather pointless. You should be proud of your achievements, and discussing levels and abilities openly only helps in the long run. I’m not surprised I’m slightly behind you considering when you found me.”

“That means you just got a new feat, right?” Gareth said.

“I did. I took a rather boring choice, an ability ironically called Choice. I get one extra card when I draw my first hand but must immediately discard one before I can cast any spells. Useful, but hardly world-shaking.”

“No, that’s a good choice. It helps make your draw more consistent. Consistency is good when it comes to something as random as a deck of cards. It’s a big advantage. Especially if you've built your deck to be based around a specific combination of cards, rather than just overall synergy.” Gareth turned to face Imelda. The wyrmkin's skin had gone a shade of light pink. “What about you, Im?”

“It’s uh, higher…” she said.

“How much higher?”

“Level twenty.”

“Wow, nice going.”

“Well, I had an advantage, I’ve had my whole life to build up experience points before I got my deck. Still kind of startling just how much of a difference that’s made though. I’m basically four times what I was before within months. It’s crazy to think just what kind of level some of the experienced duellists are at.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said, adjusting his position on the wall. “In hindsight, it's probably a good thing they split the tournament into divisions, isn't it? Not sure I want to go up against someone who has a hundred levels on me or something like that.”

“Sarkuran mentioned it, but you know you might have to duel one of us, right?” Magda said. She had a wicked grin, one that projected her confidence she could beat any of her friends.

“We could test that theory, couldn’t we,” Gareth said, tapping the top of his deck box, “if we were allowed to set up our own duels.” Fights between two duellists were resolved in a formal manner, each taking it in turns to take an action. Setting one up required a third party with the right arcane authorisation to judge the contest.

“Well, you never know. It'll be interesting to see how everything pans out.”

“You’re certainly eager,” Sarkuran said. “Looking to advance enough to regain your power and leave us behind so soon?”

“No offence, but the sooner I'm back where I belong, the better. How long did it take you to obtain your demon form?”

“Oh, it was a slow process. It wasn’t as if one day I was this fine specimen you see before you and then the next my radiant form. It took a century or two to reach the peak of my power. Roughly. The years sort of blur together after a while. It starts small, a tiny change that most wouldn’t notice.

Gareth couldn't help but touch the tips of his ears absentmindedly. If Sarkuran was able to achieve a demonic form at a high enough level, and Magda suspected she could recapture elements of her godhood, was he destined to become a wrinkled green thing with long pointed ears?

“You know, why a demon?” Gareth said, voicing a thought that had come to him. “Nightmares aren’t demons, right?”

“I think it's related to the skill I was increasing, rather than my affinity. My demon form was a kind of catch-all ability. It had increases to my mana, my deck value, the number of cards in my hand, a lot of things. Not as dramatic an increase as the individual skills but upping everything at the same time seemed better overall. Plus, there was the other benefits, the ones that didn’t relate to my deck. Eternal life, flying, inspiring dread in my enemies. The usual.”  A look had come over Sarkuran, one of pure nostalgia. “Simpler times.”

“Conquering the world was simpler times?” Magda said, tapping one foot on the ground. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Oh, in a way it was. I had a defined goal at least. That’s an important thing, to focus on what you want and just reach for it.”

“Well, right now our goal is to get a move on,” Imelda said, grabbing the strap of her backpack and leaping to her feet. “That’s enough waiting about for now. Come on, there’s still plenty of distance to go.”

***

The mine wasn’t what Gareth had expected. He had visited an old coal mine turned into a museum as part of a school trip as a child and had vivid memories of the long elevator descent down into the earth, a great shaft cut directly downwards. Gareth was stood on the edge of what he personally would have described as a quarry, though he had a vague notion that large open-pitted mines existed on Earth. It occurred to him that it must have taken a long time to dig out the great hole in the ground before him without the aid of any kind of mechanical excavator.

Scattered throughout the pit were groups of men, pickaxes slung over their shoulders. Some of them were chipping away at the outer edge of the pit, whilst others were breaking up boulders or just talking amongst themselves. They were notably avoiding the far side, a large crack in the wall of the pit surrounded by makeshift signs that they were trying to keep away from. That had to be the entrance to the ruins the miners had discovered. Keeping their distance was wise, but it raised an interesting question. If what was inside had killed three groups of duellists, why hadn’t it come surging forth into the mine itself?

From his vantage point, Gareth watched the mine work for a few minutes. It was fascinating, the slow chipping away of stone, great carts being pulled up a ramp carved into the rock towards the surface. A large wooden structure sat on the western side, and from the pile of cut grey stone piled up to the outside it was clear the waste from searching for crystals was being repurposed into building materials. It was smart, there was no point wasting the material, and there was certainly a demand for it after the attack on the city. A part of Gareth had expected the mine to be filled with giant crystals, shards cut from them to fuel the creation of cards or decks, but there was none he could see. He supposed that even when you were digging in an area they were known to be, that crystals were still a rare and valuable find.

“So, what now?” Magda said, nodding towards the pit. “Guess we go introduce ourselves?”

“That would be prudent, I think,” Sarkuran said. “We wouldn’t want the guards to think we were thieves.” He pointed towards a cluster of men near the base of the long stone ramp. They were carrying swords at their hip and had leather jerkins to offer some level of protection.

“I suppose having guards makes sense, crystals are valuable after all,” Gareth said. “We should try that main building, the one with all the stone stacked up beside it. I would assume whoever is in charge has to have an office there.”

“Agreed. That would be the most logical place to start.”

The three of them stepped away from the edge and began to walk away, stopping after a moment as they realised, they were missing one of their number.

“You coming, Imelda?” Gareth said. The wyrmkin was still standing at the edge of the pit.

Imelda shook her head as she snapped out of her stupor. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. I was just looking at…this. It’s not a pretty thing is it, just chipping away at the world like this? Something about it feels wrong. Nature shouldn’t endure this kind of thing.”

Gareth found he was nodding along with her words. Imelda’s attitude wasn’t surprising. She had spent most of her life in the enormous magical forest to the east. Her people weren't just its occupants, they were its guardians. The forest had been spared the axes of Wildermount because of the powerful and numerous elementals that lived within, but the wyrmkin had done their part as well. Living in the city hadn't seemed to have bothered her, but seeing the mine was a stark reminder of the kind of environmental impact civilisation had.

“Yeah, you think this is bad? You should see Earth. Come on, we can’t stay up here forever.”

“You’re right. What we came for is done there.” Imelda pointed at the opening at the far side of the pit. “Down inside the ground. Maybe that’s what it is? Acamida striking back against this. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing we’ve seen.”

“You’ve got a point there. Guess we’ll found out soon enough.”

***

The foreman stared at the group of duellists before him. This was the fourth set the guild had sent over the last month to accept his quest, and he hardly expected the outcome to be any different. The simple clothing and presence of wyrmkin in the group before him told the foreman that they were part of the new batch of duellists, the people who had found decks just lying around the countryside. That meant that they weren’t high level, for duellists at least, he had no doubt they were all higher level than he was.

“So, you’re what the guild is sending now? Can’t say you inspire confidence.” The foreman leant forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his desk. His hands were covered in thick callouses, the result of working his way up from the pit over several years.

“I assure you, we’re more than capable, mister…” Gareth hadn’t caught the foreman’s name.

“Mitchell. Just Mitchell. We don’t stand on any ceremony around here.”

“Well, Mitchell, we can handle it. You would be surprised, I think.”

“Too right. No offence, but I've got an eye for these things, and you are out of your depth. I won't stop you trying, but it's on your heads if it all turns to kark, got it?”

“Understood,” Sarkuran said. He was standing next to Gareth. The two men had taken the lead when they had entered the building. Something about being surrounded by other burly men chiselling away at stone had awoken a need to take charge within them, some misplaced bravado that the girls were happy to let play out. “Is there anything you can tell us about the ruins? Any insight at all?”

“Don't know much about them, honestly,” Mitchell said with a shrug. He opened a drawer on his desk and removed a short silver rod, runes carved along its shaft. “You know what this is?”

“I don’t, no,” Gareth said, shaking his head.

“This is a diving rod. It detects strong concentrations of mana. We use them to search for crystals. We found the ruins when they started going berserk, about when all those decks started showing up. We thought we had found that one vein every miner dreams of, but instead it was the entrance to them ruins. I took a look inside when we found it, looks like we tunnelled into a corridor. Rod was still going mad, but it was after something further in and I ain’t stupid enough to go poking around somewhere like that.”

“A wise choice,” Sarkuran said.

“Don’t need to patronise me.”

“I wasn’t intending to.”

“Anyway,” Mitchell said, glaring at Sarkuran, “that’s all there is to tell. I told my lads to stay away from it until some duellists could clear it out, and here we are.”

“Any clues what happened to the others?” Gareth said.

“Aside from the blood-curdling screams like you hear about in ghost stories? No. Not really. That’s kind of your job, isn’t it? To find out.” Mitchell stood up, the chair he was sat on squealing as it slid across the floor. “Come on then. I better escort you down. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were thieves or anything.”

“Thank you. We did notice the guards. Do you get many people trying to steal crystals?”

“Oh, a few now and then.” Mitchell stepped past the party and gestured for them to follow. “We only find crystals sporadically. We’re lucky if we get ten a year. Most of our money comes from supplying building materials. Stealing a palette of cut stone is a lot harder than a crystal the size of a fist.”

Gareth had seen one of the crystals that Mitchell was talking about. They had found one in the undercity, its mana tapped to power the arcane defenders of a dwarven structure. That one had shattered as it was removed from its plinth, providing Gareth with an entire deck's worth of cards he had then sold. Apparently, if it had remained intact, it could have been used to forge a deck box, considerably increasing its value.

The memory raised a question in Gareth’s mind. “Do you find many booster crystals here too?”

“Yeah, they’re more common. We find three or four of those a day.”

“Any you’re willing to sell?”

Mitchell let out a snort as he pushed open the door to the building. “Sorry, they’re all accounted for. And just so we’re clear, any you find in those ruins is property of Lord Harworthy, he owns the mine.”

“Oh, we’re familiar,” Magda said, her voice kept to a mutter. Lord Tristan Harworthy was a powerful noble and head of the Knights of the Card, Wildermount’s elite military unit of duellists. When the party had descended into the undercity, they had been given a quest far more difficult than most at the lord’s request, a cruel jest on his part. It had not endeared him to the group. It was hardly surprising that Wildermount’s most powerful duellist had secured himself a steady supply of new cards.

“Right. No taking the crystals,” Gareth said. “Got it. What about anything else we find down there? Runic items, treasure, anything like that.”

“Same deal. It all belongs to his lordship. You'll have to be content with the gold reward on this one. Fair play for trying though, can't say I blame you.” Mitchell led the way across the short path towards the route down into the pit. “Personally, I've got no love for the nobles, but at the end of the day they pay my wages, so I do what they say.”

The rest of the walk was taken in silence, Mitchell nodding at various miners as they passed and receiving only grunts in return. The centre of the pit was largely empty, the floor levelled out to an even surface by decades of work. Eventually, the miners would reach a point where they would stop expanding outwards and begin digging downwards to start a new level, but that was years of work away.

They came to a stop at the line of warning signs set before the crack in the stone. The entrance was almost door shaped, like it had been carved deliberately, rather than being the breached wall it was. Through the gap was only darkness, the sun having moved too far to shed any light into the ominous portal.

“Right well, there you go. Good luck, and all that,” Mitchell said, pointing towards the hole. “You’ll probably need it.” He turned and began the walk back towards the edge of the pit.

“Reassuring,” Sarkuran said as he watched the foreman walk away. “It’s strange, don’t you think, that the miners here have no idea what’s within. If whatever is inside has killed multiple parties of duellists, then surely it would have left the ruins?”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Imelda said. “That and these ruins must have been hidden for a long, long time before they got discovered. Either there is another way in or whatever is down there has managed to stay alive for an almost unbelievable length of time.”

“Not too unbelievable,” Sarkuran said. “Some of us are more advanced in age than others. Still, I do understand what you’re saying. You think it’s likely they’ve cut into some larger system possibly?”

“Like the catacombs under the forest?” Gareth resisted the urge to call the ancient labyrinth a dungeon. He meant it in the gaming context, and the concept didn’t translate to the understanding of the Acamidans.

“Exactly.” Sarkuran adjusted his cloak slightly. “I must admit I am somewhat fascinated by the possibilities.”

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Gareth said. He swung his backpack around and removed a long stick with a round pebble tied to the end from inside. It was a gift from the wyrmkin, the rock something known as a sunstone. They absorbed daylight and then released it like a child's glow in the dark toy. Gareth struck it to the floor to begin whatever arcane reaction caused it to light up. “Let's get started.”

Chapter Six

Stored sunlight danced off the walls of the tunnel as Gareth stepped inside. He had taken the lead, striding confidently ahead and into the entrance. He was aware that somehow, he had fallen into the leadership role, despite others in the group being vastly more qualified. Sarkuran had led an entire empire, but for some reason was happy to defer control of the party to someone who wasn’t even of this world.

The tunnel itself was carved directly into the stone, a corridor of near-perfect smoothness sliding through the rock. It was impressive construction, like it had been bored out by a machine. The floor was covered in tiny tiles, hundreds of thousands of them, a carpet of blue stretching out into the darkness. Whilst they looked impossibly delicate, each no bigger than a stamp, the floor felt incredibly secure.

“You recognise the style at all, Sark?” Gareth said. To his left a section of the roof had collapsed, blocking the way. It left the party only one direction to travel.

“I can't say I do, honestly. The construction of this tunnel is incredible. I don't know of any craftsman who could have done it. It certainly doesn't match the styles of my era. My empire favoured simple designs that could be built quickly, and you've seen the tunnels of the wyrmkin kingdom. It's rather unlikely Wildermount at the time could have built this, they were rather primitive.”

“Maybe the dwarves did it?” Magda said. She was holding her arm up as high as she could in an attempt to keep her light level with the others. “There had to be some about if we found those rooms in the undercity.”

“Perhaps, but unlikely. The rooms of the undercity were from a dozen different distinct eras. Besides, if dwarves had built this it’s rather barren for them. They do enjoy a good mural.” Sarkuran ran his fingers across the smooth surface of the wall to his right. It was like the stone had been polished to a sheen. “I suspect that this structure predates my time by a significant margin. If builders of this skill had emerged in the interim period, I’m certain that their existence would still be common knowledge.”

“So, this place is old then?” Gareth said. “So glad we have that expert historical opinion.”

“You’re the one who said it would be useful.” Imelda’s stare went unmet as she glared at Gareth. He knew better than to turn around.

“I said it might be useful,” Gareth said unwisely. “Might.”

“Knowing what something is not can often be as useful as knowing what something is,” Sarkuran said. It was an obvious lie; one intended to try and dig Gareth out of the hole he had found himself in. It didn't work, instead, Sarkuran had performed the metaphorical equivalent of climbing into the hole himself.

“If you say so.” Imelda banked the comment at the back of her mind. It was useful ammunition if she ever needed it. “If this carries on this way then it extends out past the mine, right?”

“Yeah, that seems about right.” One thing Gareth had noticed about adventuring in what he still thought of as dungeons was that it was very easy to get lost. There was almost nothing to get your bearings with. Gareth realised he had the answer already. In the excursion into the undercity, he had been loaned a runic item, a map that drew new rooms and corridors onto itself as he explored the complex network. Its ability had imprinted on him as a skill, a rare effect of using runic items. The skill, Cartography, would allow Gareth to perform a similar feat with any piece of parchment he had to hand. He had ignored it in favour of direct upgrades to his power but was now realising just how useful it would have been to add one or two points.

“We should focus,” Sarkuran said. “If the stories we've heard about audible screams aren't exaggerations then that implies that the danger isn't particularly far in.” To reinforce his point Sarkuran opened the top of his deck box, his arm held out so the hand of cards could add to the illumination of his sunstone.

“Or that these tunnels carry sound a long way,” Magda said. “So maybe we should be quiet?”

“Are you alright?” Gareth had noticed that Magda hadn’t been quite the same, not since the night at the farmhouse. “You don’t seem totally yourself.”

“I’m fine. I’d rather not find out what dying is like, that’s all.”

“Can’t say I can recommend it.”

There was a rumble. It wasn’t heavy, merely a gentle shaking that trembled the toes rather than unsteady the legs. It wasn’t strong enough to be an earthquake, and it likely would go unnoticed by the miners outside. For those stalking the tunnels, the sensation was immediately alarming.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Gareth knew the answer was obvious, but the words had blurted out from nerves more than anything else.

Sarkuran placed one hand on the wall. “It is not.” He crouched, holding his fingers against the stone as he moved. “The shaking is stronger near the base of the tunnel. That would imply that the source is below us, rather than ahead.”

“So, there are more levels to this place. It goes deeper.” Imelda understood what Sarkuran was getting at. The demon lord had proven that he had excellent knowledge of how structures were built. In particular, he had a keen proficiency for traps.

“Exactly.”

“Great. A proper crawl it is then.”

A howling shriek rang out, one that filled the tunnel with overwhelming noise. The scream was inhuman, but Gareth recognised it. It was like a kettle boiling over on the stove, steam rocketing out from its whistle to announce it was done. A thought occurred to him, it was clear that the noise wasn't something a human voice could make but bounced down the corridor and out through the entrance he wasn't sure that would be obvious. The noise stopped after a moment, its vigour spent.

“I think my ears are still ringing,” Magda said.

“Tell me about it,” Imelda said, tapping the sides of her horns.

“Uh, if this is rude, I’m sorry, but do you even have ears?” The thought had played on Gareth’s mind since he had met Imelda. Her horns were placed on the sides of her head, where her ears should be.

“Yes, it’s probably rude, but I’ll let you off because you’re not from here. I have ears, but they’re not like yours. They’re behind my horns, which are actually hollow. If you look closely there are several holes in the horn to allow sound inside. My hearing is probably about the same as yours. I might hear certain sounds different.”

“That noise, it sounded like a kettle boiling, right?”

“It did,” Sarkuran said, drawing a few confused looks. “Even in my time, we had kettles. It's hardly the peak of modern convention. I can see why the miners outside would mistake it for the dying screams of a party though.”

“Which means they probably think we're dead,” Gareth said. “We'll prove them wrong though.”

“It is intriguing. The rumbling, the noise. I have to assume that they’re from the same source.” Sarkuran bent down and touched the floor. “It’s settled down somewhat now, which would seem to confirm that they’re linked.”

“A trap of some kind?” Gareth wasn’t keen on being killed by arrows shooting out of a wall or a boulder rolling towards him.

“Possibly, but it wouldn't make sense to have your trap announce its presence. Though I suppose considering how old it must be it's possible the trap is damaged in some capacity. Still doesn't explain what happened to our fellow duellists, however.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Gareth began to walk again, keeping his pace deliberately slow. In every fantasy book he had read, or game he had played, the party always had a rogue, someone who could sneak forward and disarm traps. That always struck him as odd. The kind of traps you saw in those things were always elaborate constructs of clockwork and magic. It didn't seem like there was much crossover in skills between arcane engineering and thievery.  “Let’s take our time. We don’t want to get caught out.”

With the pace of their advanced slowed, it took an excruciating hour before the group reached the end of the tunnel. It ended in a set of spiral stairs descending further into Acamida. Like the tunnel, the steps were perfectly smooth, cut into the rock with an artifice that was impressive even to Gareth, who had never much-understood architecture.

With as much care as they could muster, Gareth and his friends made their way down the staircase. It seemed to go on forever, their legs aching from the effort, their heads starting to spin from the constant turning. They had to stop twice to catch their collective breaths, the cumulative effects of traversing the staircase too much.

They reached the bottom, stepping out through a doorway and into a massive chamber. It was a natural cavern, a vast space hiding directly beneath what had to be the mine. Eventually, the miners above would tunnel into this space, but for now, the cavern had been spared their picks. Studded across the walls were enormous purple crystals, a light shining from within them and illuminating the chamber with an ominous glow. The floor beneath the party's feet was the same smooth surface as the tunnel, carrying on for a short distance before stopping. The natural base of the cavern was far below, creating an enormous cliff that dropped off into darkness. At the far side of the chasm was a huge set of double doors, easily large enough to allow someone four times the average person’s height through.

Spanning the gap was a bridge, one end secured just before the party. It was an elaborate thing of delicately worked metal, like the bridge it had been crafted by a jeweller rather than an engineer. The odd purple light made it difficult to tell what metal it was made of, the original colour lost in the violet sheen. Whatever it was glimmered like it had been polished to perfection.

“This place is incredible,” Imelda said, staring up at the roof of the cavern. “I wonder what those crystals are? They’re not the same kind as deck or booster crystals, those are blue.”

“I honestly have no idea,” Sarkuran said. “The rumble, can you feel it? It’s a lot stronger down here.”

Another whistle rang out. A great gout of steam erupted from within the chasm, spraying at an angle towards the far side of the chamber. Even from where they were the party could feel the heat of it, motes of damp air settling on their skin. The jet had washed over the bridge, but whatever material it was made off seemed unphased by the blast.

Gareth walked towards the edge of the chasm, leaning over as far as he dared and holding his sunstone towards the darkness. The light caught a brief glimmer of metal below, the edge of a gigantic cog sliding into the beam.

“There’s like, clockwork stuff down here,” he said, stepping away from the edge. “It looks massive.”

“There’s a machine down there then?” Imelda said. She was still looking up at the crystals.

“I think so. It has to be the source of the steam and the rumbling. The pressure of one is causing the other. What's it for though?”

“That is an excellent question, but one I fear we may never know the answer for unless one of its builders is somehow still alive to tell us,” Sarkuran said as he approached the bridge. He touched it tentatively with the tip of his boot. “That seems unlikely.”

“Really?” Magda said, the irony not lost on her. “Really? You. You think that it’s unlikely someone could still be hanging around in an ancient ruin.”

“When you say it like that, I do see your point. I feel I would probably be an exception, rather than a rule.” Confident that the bridge could take his weight after probing the edge, Sarkuran took several steps onto it.

The rumbling grew instantly, a smaller gout of steam erupting from the darkness below. There was a creaking noise, the sound of metal moving into place. From within the chasm, two statues began to emerge, carved metal figures that rose to flank the bridge. They stared down with approving eyes, a friendly smile across their face.

“Oh no,” Magda said rubbing her temples. “No, no, no...”

The figure was immediately familiar to Gareth. He had seen it before, in one of the temples within Wildermount. The presence of the statue in that temple had raised dozens of unanswered questions, and the metallic replicas here were only making those questions more complex.

“These look familiar,” Imelda said.

“That's because they're me,” Magda said, her voice barely rising over a whisper.

With the statues locked in place, the rumbling had stopped. The elaborate apparatus of clockwork and steam existed to lift the statues into place once someone stepped onto the bridge. Gareth thought there was a kind of conceited showmanship to it that suited Magda.

“Yeah, I can kind of see it now,” Imelda said. “These look like that goddess one of the human sects follow. Magdalena, I think she’s called. Oh, right. Magdalena, Magda, don’t know why I didn’t make that connection.”

“I thought you were a relatively new goddess?” Sarkuran said, the immediate question springing to his mind. “And that you have never interacted with Acamida before?”

“I am! And I haven’t! I don’t know why these are here. I’m as lost as any of you.”

“To be fair, she is. She’s been back and forth to the temple in Wildermount constantly trying to work it out.” Gareth didn’t know why he felt the need to stand up for Magda. She was more than capable of doing it herself.

“Never really bothered with that particular sect myself,” Imelda said. “It was always very niche.”

“Great. And I'm not even a well-liked goddess, apparently.” Magda stared up at the statues. Just like the one in the temple, she hated looking at them. When she had been kicked down to Acamida the other gods had altered her form. Her godly body was much taller, and considerably fuller where it mattered. As a newer born god, she had been smaller than her older cousins, the amount of divinity available to create her restricted. They had always teased her about it and her mortal body was an extension of that.

“It would seem your cult had to have some clout when this place was built. It’s a rather impressive construction,” Sarkuran said.

“I didn’t even exist when this was made! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Maybe we’ll find some answers inside?” Gareth said, putting a hand on Magda’s shoulder. “Maybe this will all become clear.”

There was a faint clinking noise, one that echoed through the chamber. It drew the eyes of the party, their heads tilting back as they followed its source.

Clambering across the roof of the cavern was a crystalline spider, the same purple light leaking from within it. Its legs were digging into the stone, latching on to give it grip. Behind it was more of its kind, the creatures scuttling towards the nearest wall.

“It would appear that our approach had disturbed some of the local wildlife,” Sarkuran said as he opened his deck box. “I suppose we have gone undisturbed for rather too long. I was begging to think this might be a rather pleasant stroll.”

“Nothing is ever easy.” Gareth glanced at his cards. They weren’t ideal. He had drawn all three of his war banners and his two lightning blasts. The damaging spells would be useful, but the banners were useless without the monsters they boosted. “But then life would be boring wouldn’t it?”

“I think I would rather boring,” Imelda said. A bandit took shape before her, a scimitar in the constructs hand.

“You don’t mean that, not really.”

Imelda just smiled. She lifted a hand and a bow formed from energy, its string pulling back on its own to launch an arrow dripping with green liquid. It flew through the air, striking one of the oncoming crystal spiders. The arrow bounced off, a flash of purple light rippling across the surface of the monster.

“Not a good start!” Imelda snarled at the oncoming spider. It had shrugged off the effect of her paralysing arrow. Monsters being immune to spells was something the party had come across before, in the undercity below Wildermount.

“Hang on,” Gareth said. It was worth testing again, just to be sure. He touched a card in his hand and motes of blue energy began to gather before him. A moment later they lashed out, lighting arching across the cavern and crashing into the nearest spider. The beast kept coming, the powerful blast of energy absorbed into its crystal body.

“Time to try out my new toy, I think,” Sarkuran said, pulling his knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the purple light. He had already summoned a Gibbering Mouth as the others had flung their spells at the spiders. “Now how do I use this…”

Sarkuran pointed the dagger at his monster. Much to his relief the creature immediately dissipated, physically having to stab the thing wasn't a task that he was relishing. Cards flew from his deck box, hovering before him ready to select. Behind the array of cards Sarkuran could see that his feat had kicked in, the two halves of the Gibbering Mouth forming. He couldn’t help but smile, the wording on cards and effects were very specific. The knife destroyed a monster rather than discarding it, and that was the requirement for his feat.

The three cards weren't particularly useful. Two traps, and another copy of Gibbering Mouth. He was hoping for his Reality Stalker, but at least Sarkuran had come out ahead. He selected the monster, the beast springing to life from the energy released. Despite the knife’s effect achieving little on its own, Sarkuran had gained two more monsters from the deal and would be able to regain all of his mana, the newly summoned Gibbering Mouth powered by the knife’s magic.

The first of the spiders launched itself from the rock, landing on the edge of the platform near the far wall. The group of slobbering nightmares rushed to meet it, their mouths snapping at the crystal limbs of the spider. One broke off, shattered by a heavy blow from the tongue of the still whole Gibbering Mouth.

The spider struck back, its jaws clinking as they snapped together, its front legs lashing out. It speared one of the smaller nightmares with the tip of the limb, flinging the fleshy blob off into the chasm. As it careened through the air it exploded into a cloud of indigo motes, the tiny lights fading away.

Another spider landed, and then another. There was six of them total, the creatures scuttling quickly towards the party. The one fighting the nightmares met its doom, tipped over the edge of the chasm by a barge from the two Gibbering Mouths working together, their amorphous bodies slamming into it.

Gareth looked at his hand of cards. He had drawn two more, his deck periodically providing him more in time with the rhythm of the universe. A Puny Goblin and his Counterspell trap. He sighed and summoned the goblin, he needed to contribute to the fight somehow, and it was better than nothing. Summoning one along with a banner would at least give his monster a reasonable amount of power.

Something dashed past him, a blur of darkness moving quickly across the platform. Gareth watched the shadow stop moving directly before one of the spiders, a figure becoming clear, a cloaked assassin with a dagger in hand. The spider before it slumped to the ground, slain instantly by the fast-moving shadow. It was Imelda’s legendary monster, The Hidden Blade. Its acidic touch ability allowed it to destroy any monster it damaged, and when summoned it immediately attacked, a powerful combination.

The weakness of the card became apparent immediately after. The nearest spider pounced, leaping into the air and landing on the shadowy assassin. It exploded instantly, the summoned monster's actual statistics incredibly low for its cost. Without a way to protect it, the creature was little more than an elaborate one-shot spell. It had at least removed one of the bizarre crystalline creatures from the fight in exchange for its death.

“This isn’t going our way!” Magda said, pointing for the two cherubs at her flanks to fire on the nearest spider. Each was glowing with energy, Magda’s boosting spells enhancing their strength. One arrow caused the head of a spider to crack, whilst the second shot shattered it totally.

“They've got two hit points,” Gareth said, realising that the first blow hadn't slain the creature. “Or well, the equivalent for a natural monster anyway.” Every monster card listed a number of hit points on it. It represented how many major wounds the monster could take, either because of its natural toughness, an item it possessed or sometimes just how naturally large it was. As far as Gareth understood one hit point's worth of injury was roughly what it would take to kill a person. Not for the first time he was glad he had the magical protection of his deck box, the three cards that powered his arcane shield floating before him.

“I would advise we pull back across the bridge,” Sarkuran said. “We aren’t exactly slaying these at a reasonable pace.” As he spoke the spiders pulled down the last of his nightmares. “And we can’t summon things quick enough to replace our losses.”

Gareth hated to admit it, but Sarkuran was right. The sound of the fighting had drawn the attention of more of the crystal spiders, another wave sprinting along the wall of the cavern, appearing from within the glowing clusters on the ceiling. As they passed one of the larger crystals embedded in the wall cracked, tiny versions of the spiders pouring out from within.

“Eggs?!” Magda said, exasperation in her voice. “Who built a temple to me in a nest of weird spider eggs?”

“I’m guessing the eggs came after,” Imelda said, grabbing Magda by her shoulders and pulling her towards the bridge. “Come on, let’s go! You,” she turned to look at her sole remaining bandit, “attack those spiders. Buy us time.”

The party broke into a sprint, each running onto the delicate-looking bridge as fast as their legs would carry them. Behind them their monsters battled valiantly against the growing swarm of spiders, a fight they were quickly losing.

“I don’t want to constantly be a downer,” Magda said, her voice ragged between breaths, “but they can just follow us, right?”

“We’ll go through the doors, and hopefully can bar them from the other side.” Sarkuran was far ahead of the others, being closest to the bridge when they had started running. The structure was proving remarkably stable despite the clomping of boots upon it.

“Ok, again, don’t want to be a downer, but how are we going to open those doors?”

“She’s got a point,” Gareth said. He turned for a moment and unleashed another lightning blast. He was hoping to scare the spiders that had begun to follow them, but the creatures didn’t care. It seemed they were well aware of their immunity to spells.

Sarkuran thought for a moment. “Well, in my experience, nothing spurs on problem-solving like adversity!”

Chapter Seven

Mike took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, reaching up with his free hand and scratching the top of his head. The cellar he was in had an overbearing dampness to it and a strong musty smell to match. Scuttling about in one corner of the room was a colony of long segmented insects and it was looking at those that had made his skin itch. He had never much like bugs. Unfortunately for him, this was the fifth damp cellar he had been forced to visit in the last fortnight. As the guard captain assigned to the bottom tier of the city, the recent spate of cases had all fallen within his purview. Mike was certain now he was dealing with the same culprit for each, the perpetrator making it intensely obvious.

“It’s not exactly subtle, is it?” Sergeant Wildseeker said. Her piercing yellow eyes stood out in the gloom, the wyrmkin one of the few non-humans in the entire city guard. The relationship between the city guards and the minority races was fraught, to say the least. “I mean, why bother taking the time to do something like this? It just increases the chances of you being caught, surely?”

The sergeant nodded towards the wall Mike was looking at. Painted across the stone in an off white was a huge skull emblem that spanned the entire height of the wall. The paint had run in several places, the wet air of the cellar slowing the drying process. It gave the skull a misshapen look, one that the sergeant found slightly eerie.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you, Mavis? But we still haven’t caught him yet. I think this is a message. Not for us, but for the people he hit. One of them things…a whatchamacallit, words on the tip of my tongue.”

“Calling card?” Mavis said.

“That’s the one! They keep hitting places with known affiliations to the families. Could be an upstart trying to muscle in on their turf.”

“Brave of them to try. Sounds like a one-way ticket to having your name left with the assassin’s guild. Especially if you’re telling them it’s you that did it every time.”

“If they’re even real,” Mike said. “The guild that is.” The existence of an organised group of hired killers was a popular urban myth, one that in all his years as a guard Mike had never seen any evidence existed. The truth was it wasn’t necessary, any one of the four families that controlled organised crime in Wildermount had more than enough young thugs they could get to do the job for them. When their stooge inevitably got caught, misplaced loyalty led to them taking the fall, even if it sometimes meant facing the noose. The crime syndicates ran on the notion that they were a brotherhood, that when one of their number took the ultimate fall for the organisation any family that were left behind would be looked after. To Mike that was even more of a myth than the assassin’s guild.

Mavis just shrugged. In her mind whoever had broken into the cellar and beaten up the men within was already dead, even if they didn’t know it. “The lads down here are all Bloodstone family men, not that they would tell you that. Tattoos on them say as much though. They might as well be painting skulls on a wall.”

“They say anything?” Mike knew what Mavis was talking about. The families all had distinct subcultures, most of them choosing to display their allegiance through tattoos. The Bloodstone family had a few distinct ones. A dragon’s tooth on the shoulder for each kill, daggers above the knuckle for every time they had gone to the dungeons. Keeping track of them all was something Mike found annoying, they kept adding more.

“Not much. You know these family goons; they like to keep their mouths shut. They definitely got roughed up though, a fair few bruises on them.”  Mavis could hardly conceal her smile. She had no love for the kind of lowlifes the families employed. It was why she had joined the guard despite the protests of her mother. Every week men had arrived to collect protection money from the bakery her parents owned, and every week they had walked out with money that the Wildseekers desperately needed.

“Do we know what they were doing down here?” Mike turned away from the wall. The image had become ingrained in his mind. He supposed that was the point, the culprit desperate to announced that they had done part of his job for him.

The cellar was fairly large, in actuality, several cellars with their walls knocked through to form one long room. The buildings above were houses crammed with families, no doubt rented out by one of the higher-up Bloodstones under an assumed name. Being slum landlords was just another despicable thing to add to a long list. The people who ran the family, the Bloodstones themselves, were almost untouchable. They had a queue of people willing to take the blame for things and a particular way of making evidence disappear. As much as Mike wished he could just march them out of their plush homes in the uppermost tier and take them straight to the gallows, Wildermount considered a trial an inalienable right. Without evidence, the case would simply fall apart.

“Growing skeeva. Almost definitely dealing it as well.” Mavis pointed across the cellar to where some of her comrades were carrying barrels towards the staircase that led to the surface. “Explains why this place is so damp. I can feel my skin and scales getting wetter as we stand here.”

“That’s strange, right?”

“Not really, Captain. Skeeva has always been an easy way for the families to make money. It grows quick and there’s always someone looking for a fix.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, all those barrels, they still have skeeva in them, right?” Mike hated the stuff. Skeeva was a kind of green moss that liked the wet. It was common to grow it on the inside of old barrels, the bottom of each filled with water to keep the moss moist. Once it was ready the plant was dried and then ground up and sold as a green powder. It was a powerful narcotic, one that could be snorted or rubbed onto the gums. Mike had pulled a bag of skeeva from the pocket of multiple corpses, more than he would have liked, the substance was worryingly easy to take too much of.

“They do, yeah.” Mavis wasn’t sure where Mike’s train of thought was going.

“Then why hit this place?” The guard had been called by a passer-by, the sounds of fighting coming from within the cellar, the door leading up to the street left open. By the time the first guards had arrived the mystery assailant was gone. “Have we found any money?”

“No, Captain. Nothing at all, and the idiots in the coach aren’t saying where it is.” Mavis had been one of the first on the scene, arriving with a handful of other guards on one of their horse-drawn coach. The men in the cellar weren’t in a fit state to resist as they had been forced up the stairs and locked securely within the coach’s cabin.

“That’s interesting, right? Whoever hit this place probably took it, but they left the skeeva. Would have been a much better idea to take that and then sell it themselves. There’s a decent number of barrels here. Street value has to be pretty high.” Mike drummed his fingers on his helmet as he thought. “Unless they couldn’t take them. Could be that one person did this. Grabbing the coin was probably the easiest option. Probably not a rival family then, they would have sent in a whole squad, and they definitely wouldn’t have left any survivors.”

“You reckon this was a one-man job? Seems really stupid if that’s true.”

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner. With how things have been recently and all that.”

“I don’t follow, Captain,” Mavis said. She had known Mike since she had joined the guard, the captain running the show on the bottom tier of the city for years. He always had a bad habit of assuming everyone followed along as he spoke, his experience letting his mind skip ahead of less seasoned guards.

“The new duellists. Lots of folks out there with decks who have never had them before. No guarantees any of them are a savoury sort. You give out that kind of power to people who would misuse it, well, that’s a recipe for trouble, isn’t it?”

Mavis nodded, her helmet rattling as she did. It didn’t fit her properly; the sides of the helmet had been cut away to allow her horns to fit through and it was roughshod work. All the equipment the guard used had been designed to be used by humans, little consideration given to the other races. Mavis could count the non-human members on one hand. There were two other wyrmkin, a musteling, and then the dwarf in the third tier. He didn’t even have armour, instead, he was wearing his tabard directly over his body. It wasn’t like he needed it, dwarves were small golems made of stone, most weapons weren’t a threat to him.

“Honestly, I’m surprised there hasn’t been more trouble, Captain. A lot of folks unhappy with their lot in life had found themselves with the keys to changing it. This might just be the start of something more. Maybe this wasn’t about robbing the place? Maybe it’s some kind of vigilante justice? It would take a deck to take on four guys by yourself unless you’re a master swordsman or something.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Mike sighed as a realisation dawned on him. “I’ll have to go to the main office, report this to the higher-ups, especially considering the thought I just had. The people who grabbed those decks rushed to become duellists. That makes sense, considering the decks were just scattered everywhere most people who found them aren’t exactly rolling in coin. It’s only a matter of time before some of the families offer them jobs. Using your deck to threaten a shopkeeper or take out some goons is a lot safer than facing down monsters. This will escalate.”

“Magical gang warfare doesn’t exactly sound safe.”

“No, it does not,” Mike said, putting his helmet back on. He regretted it immediately, condensation had formed on the inside of the metal. “Don’t wait around for me, Sergeant. Get those men processed and in the cells, as quick as you can. It’s going to be a long night for me, I can tell. The wife’s not going to be happy with me. I’ve used the working late excuse to grab a pint at the Troll and Bridge one too many times and now she isn’t going to believe me when it’s true.”

“Well, Cap, you know what they say about the boy who cried direwolf.”

“Guess I didn’t learn my lesson then. If those boys won’t talk, book them for skeeva growing, with intent to distribute. Not much else we can prove. It’ll probably get them a couple of weeks hard labour, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Should I put out some feelers? Someone around here might have seen something. I could get a couple of crushers to go door knocking?” Crushers was Wildermount slang for guards, the name coming from the heavy boots they wore. Civilians used it to mean all guards but within the organisation, it meant specifically the lowest-ranked guards assigned to foot patrol.

“Yeah, can’t hurt. Hopefully, it’ll get word out to whoever did this before they try it again. Can’t say I’m too bothered about someone hitting the families’ operations, but I would hate to be that guy when they catch up with him.”

Quest Accepted: Identify the unknown person using the skull emblem.

Quest reward: 20 experience points.

Mike rolled his eyes. He was used to receiving quests, he had gotten them his entire life, but having constant reminders of what he needed to do could be annoying. He already got enough of that from his wife.

“You get the quest too, Captain?”

“Sure did, Mira.

***

Gareth summoned a goblin shield bearer, the creature swirling into being at the end of the bridge. The spiders were right behind the party, their crystal limbs clanking against the metal. More of them were clambering across the ceiling, whilst one enterprising spider had launched a spray of glittering pink webbing across the chasm and was using that to climb across.

“Any time now would be great,” he said. He knew that his goblin wouldn’t be much of a speedbump, not with the sheer number of enemies approaching them. More of the creatures were appearing from amongst their glowing eggs with every moment. The presence of the spiders at least explained what had happened to the other parties. It seemed unlikely they could have defeated the monsters.

“I wonder why they don’t leave the cave?” Magda said, voicing a question that had been taking up valuable real estate at the back of Gareth’s mind.

“Same reason the nature elementals don’t leave the forest back home. These look like elemental beasts; they need to feed on the mana here to survive. Probably the same kind of mana that turns into deck crystals eventually,” Imelda said. She resummoned two bandits and sent them charging across the bridge. “Why leave somewhere that’s basically an endless supply of free food? They’re probably just angry at us because they think we’re here to muscle in on their territory.”

“Unless someone speaks magic spider, I don’t think we can convince them otherwise,” Gareth said.

“You do. You speak magic spider. You speak every language.” Magda glared at Gareth, annoyed he had forgotten one of the gifts she had so generously given to him.

“Oh. Right yeah, I forgot. I guess it depends on if they have a language, or if they’re smart enough to understand speech…”

“Just try it!” Magda said, kicking Gareth in the back of the shins.

“Ow! Ok sure, I’ll try. If I die, then I want a memorial twice as big as these statues of Magda, just so she feels even shorter.”

Gareth strode forward, trying to impart confidence into his steps. It was a gamble, one that assumed a level of sentience to the spiders that simply might not be there, but in case it was Gareth decided that he should at least try and give off an air that he knew what he was doing. He stopped once he reached the shield bearer, the goblin standing ready at the end of the bridge.

The spiders had nearly caught up, the creatures covering the elegant metal of the structure. They hung from every support, coating the bridge in a tide of glowing purple crystal.

“Hi there. Hello, I think maybe there’s been a misunderstanding here,” Gareth said. To him it sounded like he had spoken English, the words leaving his lips effortlessly. Magda’s godly translation magic worked automatically, Gareth not even being aware he was doing it. Every time he spoke the magic was taking effect, the native language of Acamida certainly not English.

To Gareth’s surprise, the spiders came to a screeching halt, their sharp legs slammed into the bridge to slow themselves. The front of the oncoming horde was barely a meter from the Goblin Shield Bearer. The spiders began to sway from side to side a motion which something in Gareth’s brain told him was confusion.

“The man thing speaks!” chattered one of the spiders. “It speaks!” The spider’s tone was one of incredulity. As far the creature knew humans were stupid apes without the ability to converse. This one was different. Its mouth had opened to release the appropriate ringing tones.

“I do. We don’t mean you any harm. We’re just here to check this place, to make sure it’s not dangerous to the people on the surface. That’s all we’re here for. We don’t want to fight you.”

“Lies!” shrieked another of the spiders. “They want to steal our mana! Why else would they be here?”

“We don’t. We don’t consume mana; not like you do. We just want to explore this place. That’s all. We’re more than happy to just let you be.”

“The others tried to kill us,” said the first spider. “You killed us. Some of our number fell before the creatures you summon. The man things bind beasts to their will. What’s not to say you won’t do the same to us.”

“You mean this?” Gareth said, gesturing towards the shield bearer. “It’s not real. It’s just mana made solid. It’s not a living goblin.” He lifted his mask to reveal his face, hoping that might make the spiders trust him more. Gareth held out his staff pointing towards the creatures. “This was given to me by a tribe of goblins for helping save them. I know others have come here before me. You have to excuse them, they don’t understand, to them you’re monsters.”

“They are the monsters,” said the spider. It seemed like this one was the closest thing they had to a leader. “They attacked us unprovoked!”

“And my friends and I defended ourselves from you when you attacked us unprovoked. It’s a cycle, can’t you see that? If you kill us more will come, and over and over until the end of time. You’ll never be safe.”

“The man thing lies! Do not listen!” said one of the spiders further into the crowd.

“What the man thing says makes sense. Why fight the man things?” said another.

“You can not speak for all man things, just as I can not speak for all of my kind,” the lead spider said. It took a few clinking steps forward towards Gareth. “This goblin thing truly is not real?”

“No, it’s not. Watch.” Gareth closed his deck box, the goblin turning back into energy. The deck box was a simple thing of brown leather, a metal emblem the rough shape of a goblin’s head stamped on the top. Like all deck boxes, it was representative of the affinity it held.

“Is it sorcery then?”

The question struck Gareth as an interesting one. It implied that not only did the spiders have a concept of mana, but that they understood spellcasting. That was an interesting wrinkle. He knew that decks were just one way of interacting with mana, runes were another and there were apparently several complex rituals that produced results. Gareth wondered if it was possible to summon a goblin without using a card, then immediately discounted the idea. Even if it was, what could be simpler than just touching something and having it happen. Every other form of magic was just too esoteric and difficult to be used reasonably.

“Yes. It is.”

“We would like to learn this magic. Can you teach us?”

“If you had a deck box, yes.” Gareth tapped the side of his box. “You have to have one of these. You can’t use mine either,” he added quickly, trying to dissuade any notion of trying to steal his. “They’re bound to a person. If they die, the deck goes poof.”

That was true in only the strictest sense. Gareth had seen it first-hand when slaying the Republic commander, but both cards and decks could be given freely if the owner so chose. It was what made the trading of cards possible. Gareth knew from learning what he could about Acamida that powerful decks were often passed down in a family. Trying to pass on a deck before its owner died could be a particular problem in some situations. More than one minor noble house had bankrupted itself trying to replace the deck of a patriarch who had died suddenly.

“You can’t just take it from them either. Magic stops you doing that.”

“Ah yes. These I have seen. I have one within my nest.”

“I’m sorry,” Gareth said. “What?”

“I have one within my nest. Should I retrieve it?”

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. The crystalline spider was in possession of a deck box. He wondered for a moment if it was even possible for the creature to use it. He didn’t see why not, after all the guild had lied for centuries about only humans being able to use them, Gareth had no idea how far and wide the ability would be.

“Why are we encouraging this man thing?” came the cry from the crowd. “We should kill them.”

“No! No more fighting,” said another. The spiders were torn on what to do.

“We have…much to discuss. Do not leave this outcropping until we have decided,” the leader said.

“And what if you decide to kill us?”

“Then at least we will be swift, man-thing.”

“Good to know,” Gareth said. He stepped away from the spiders, moving close to the door.

Sarkuran was crouched beside it, a panel in the door itself open to reveal complex clockwork within. He was trying to get the doors to open, prodding the mechanism. He wasn’t getting far, whilst the demon king was an experience trap maker, the door’s complex internals was beyond his skill.

“Getting anywhere? I’d rather we got out of here before these things decide to kill us.” Gareth reduced his voice to a whisper, aware now that the spiders could hear him. He realised it was likely unnecessary, speaking to his friends wouldn’t be in the spider’s language.

“Decide? What are they doing, voting on it?” Imelda said. Her were locked on the mass of spiders. They had all stopped moving, a chorus of ringing noises like glass being struck filling the cavern.

“Basically. It’s easy to forget you can’t understand them. Some of them want to kill us, some don’t. I tried to convince them that it’s all a misunderstanding. They don’t want to fight us, but they felt attacked. Hardly surprising, I imagine some duellists would go in with spells blazing. I tried telling them that killing us would only mean more trouble in the future, whilst if they let us go, they would probably be left alone.”

“Smart. Sure is a good thing someone gave you that ability,” Magda said, smiling at her ingenuity.

“You have the exact same ability. There was nothing to stop you going there and trying to convince them to leave us alone,” Gareth said.

“We would definitely be dead if she did.” Sarkuran didn’t look up from the mechanism.

“Oh yeah, just the deadest,” Imelda said with a smirk. She was only partly joking.

“Not like Gareth has done any better. He’s just delayed it. Look how many of them there are. Keeping us alive would be too dangerous. And besides, it's not his royal highness,” Magda tilted her head towards Sarkuran, “is going to get us through those doors any time soon.”

“I’m not royalty,” Sarkuran said, his face squinting as he struggled to reach something deep inside the panel. “I was an emperor, not a king. That’s different. Not that I would expect a goddess to understand the subtleties. I imagine you’re much too used to having people jump to make your every whim come true.”

A few minutes passed before a lone spider began to scuttle forwards from the crowd. Gareth assumed it was the one that had taken the lead, though he had no way to tell them apart. The crystal bodies of the creatures made them almost identical. In its jaws, it was carrying something wrapped in the same webbing that had been shot across the chasm. It dropped it by Gareth’s feet as it approached, the bundle clinking as it hit the ground.

“We have decided,” the spider said, its voice coming out as a series of high pitched ringing noises. “We will not kill you. More of your kind will come, more man things, if we do this, yes?”

Gareth nodded in response before realising the body language might not translate. “Yes,” he said.

“Then you will be allowed to pass through our home. We have a condition, however. I have a condition. You will teach us to use this.” The spider clamped its mandibles hard onto the webbing ball, the coating shattering like glass. Within was the tell-tale familiar cuboid shape of a deck box. It was made of a dozen different natural materials, wood, stone, gems, along with a handful of other things that were hard to make out amongst the remnants of the web. “You will teach us how to use these cards.”

Crystal Spider defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Crystal Spider defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Crystal Spider defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Quest Complete: Make peace with the Crystal Spiders.

Reward: 400 Exp.

It wasn’t the first time Gareth had completed a quest without being informed of its existence. The quest seemed fluid, adapting to the situation as best it could.

“I can’t see how this could possibly go wrong,” Magda said.

Chapter Eight

Gareth wasn’t entirely sure what his next move was. Somehow, he found himself standing before a giant spider made of glowing purple crystal, a deck box on the ground between them. He was glad the creature and its kin weren’t trying to kill him, but he could feel the weight of a thousand shimmering eyes upon him. They were waiting for him to fulfil his half of the bargain.

“Where did you get this?” Gareth said, pointing to the deck box still half encased in hard crystalline webbing.

“I found it, here in the chasm. It was simply…here, one day,” the spider said. Whilst vague its explanation made sense. Deck boxes had appeared all across Wildermount, it made sense one could appear below the surface.

“Is it bound to you?”

“I do not understand.”

“Did you touch it?” Gareth said, gesturing downwards.

The spider shook from side to side. “No. I can feel the mana flowing from it. I thought it might be dangerous, so I encased it in my webbing before moving it.”

Gareth nodded along. The spiders were much smarter than he had expected. He wondered just how many monsters were misunderstood, people unable to communicate with them effectively. He realised he was just as guilty as anyone else of considering fighting first rather than trying to come to an agreement of some sort. Of course, in some cases, like when he had been exploring the undercity, understanding monsters had made it clear just how dangerous they were. Then gremlins living beneath the streets of Wildermount had made no secret of their desire to harm the people living above them.

“Ok, well then…actually, what’s your name?”

The spider scuttled a few steps closer, edging towards the deck box. “Taxanarxilaxikan.”

“We’ll stick to Tax, ok?”

“That is suitable for me, man thing.”

There was that phrase again. The goblins beneath the forest had called Gareth the same thing. He wondered if it was a common name for humanity amongst the monster races. The gremlins hadn’t used it, so perhaps it was simply a coincidence.

Gareth nodded. He was glad he wouldn’t have to remember the creature’s entire lengthy name. “Pick up the deck box.”

The spider reached down with its mandibles, the gleaming crystal appendages clamping down on the sides of the box. Light swirled out from within, rushing around Tax and lifting them off the ground. It flowed into them, their legs twitching as the energy coursed through their body.

“The man thing lied!” cried out one of the watching spiders.

“They tricked her! She is in danger!” said another.

The energy stopped pouring into Tax and she landed on the ground with more grace than Gareth had done. It was completed, the deck box bonded to her. The box was attached to her right foreleg with a black leather belt.

“I’m fine!” Tax said, turning to face her audience. “The box is now bound to me. I could see that in my messages, the man thing speaks the truth.”

Gareth didn’t know why but he had assumed that the spiders wouldn’t have the same menus and notifications he did.  In hindsight it was obvious they would, the magical systems underpinning life on Acamida were ingrained deeply into reality. Gareth wondered how far it went. Were creatures without sentience able to see the menus and just not understand them, or was there a minimum level of intelligence needed to access them?

Tax held up her limb to a chorus of approving chattering from the crowd before turning back towards Gareth.

“What is next, man-thing?”

“Gareth. My name is Gareth.”

“What is next, Gareth?” Tax said.

“Next thing you’re going to do is open the deck box. Assuming it works as it should, a hand of cards should appear. You’ll have to bear with me, every duellist I know is humanoid, so I’m making assumptions based on that.”

“Duellist? This word is unfamiliar to me.”

“It’s what we call people who have decks. Duels between users are common entertainment on the surface. Myself, Magda, Imelda and Sarkuran are all duellists.” Gareth gestured to his friends behind him. Magda and Imelda were standing close to form a wall before Sarkuran as he continued his attempts to open the door.

“So, this,” Tax said tapping her deck box with her left leg, “makes me a duellist?”

“It does.”

The spider scuttled from side to side happily. Hers was an achievement unheard of for her people. The first crystal spider duellist to ever exist, as far as Tax was aware of anyway. She had spent her entire life in the cavern, the space descending past the complex collection of gears in the chasm and into a network of natural caves that spread out beneath the kingdom. The crystal spiders had made their home in the cavern centuries ago, the abundant mana providing them with the perfect spot to birth new generations.

“So, I should open the box?” Tax said, touching it gently with her left leg.

“Yeah, go right ahead.”

Tax did as instructed, pushing open the lid of the deck box. It took a few attempts, her limbs not designed to grasp objects. Once she managed to get it open, light flowed out from within, a cluster of cards floating juts before her left forelimb, three mana orbs forming on where the first section of her right front leg ended. Crystal orbs shifted as her eyes took in the cards before her.

“I…I think I understand. These are my options for sorcery, correct?” Tax shifted her legs about experimenting with how the cards moved. On the man things they had floated above their strange collection of tiny legs she believed were called fingers. Tax could feel the power flowing through her, a surge of mana she had never thought possible before. It was intoxicating. She could see why the man-things were so keen on using them.

“That’s right,” Gareth said with a nod. “Each card you have there represents a monster, a spell, a relic or a trap. Monsters are things like my goblins, spells are like the lightning I threw at you. A relic is a magical item and a trap is kind of a delayed spell. How did you stop my lightning by the way?”

Tax let out a rhythmic ringing, a sound that Gareth instinctively understood to be a chuckle. “I did not realise that you were trying to hurt us with that, man-thing. Do your people not feast on mana as we do? Your attempts only fuelled us.”

That made sense to Gareth. Spells were the most direct method of unleashing his mana. It was the equivalent of someone throwing a cheeseburger straight into his mouth.

“Go ahead,” Gareth said, nodding towards the shimmering cards, “try summoning something.”

Tax tentatively lifted her left leg, reaching out towards her hand of cards. She touched one of them, and it shifted into a bolt of light. It arced upwards before shooting down to the ground and shifting to take on its new form. The light coalesced into a pig-like creature, one made of twisting vines knotted together.

Gareth recognised it. The monster was one of the first things he had encountered on awaking in Acamida. It was a vineswine, a kind of elemental creature that was common in the forest he had found himself in. Its presence in the cavern had to mean that Tax had been given a deck with the elemental affinity, which made sense considering the design of her deck box.

Gareth wondered if Tax herself was an elemental creature. Decks seemed to have an odd habit of finding their way to people they fitted. The former goddess Magda had angels, and whilst nightmares weren’t demons, they were unknowable destructive creatures from another plane, so suited Sarkuran well. That didn’t explain why had ended up with Goblins, so it could also just have been a massive coincidence.

“I did it!” Tax said, resuming her happy scuttling. Behind her, the swarm of spiders were doing the same, pleased with her progress. “How do I command it?”

“Just tell it to attack. Uh, not right now! I’d rather not get attacked.”

“Oh, of course, man thing. What are these?” Tax gestured to a set of three cards floating just above her head.

“Those are your shields. They project a magical barrier around you. Each of those can absorb one strike. It’s important to say it doesn’t matter how hard you are hit. It’s just three blows, heavy or small. It also only works against an attack. It won’t work if you trip and fall into the chasm, for example.”

“I see, I see. That would be why the previous man things to enter our cavern were so difficult to defeat,” Tax said.

Gareth grimaced, realising he had just told a host of monsters how duellists defended themselves. In his limited experience summoned monsters tended to draw the attention of the real ones. That was understandable, a giant nightmare or a great winged angel were more obvious threats than a week soft human. He wasn’t sure he should be telling the spiders they could simply walk around the summoned beasts with their sheer numbers,

“Yes,” Gareth said. He didn’t see the point in lying now. “Though I’m hoping it won’t be necessary. We’ve kept up our end of the bargain, that’s basically all you need to know to use your deck. The rest will come with experience and levelling up. You do level up, don’t you?”

“Of course? Why do man things not?”

“We do. But that’s not important now. We’re going to explore the rest of this place, and then when we return to the surface, we’ll tell our people not to come down here. Say it’s too dangerous, lots of monsters and traps. That will keep out anymore. We’ll also tell the mine above us not to dig any deeper. I don’t think they want to fall into a cavern, and I’m sure you don’t want them to accidentally smash your eggs.”

“We do not. I am not sure what a mine is, but if it’s a danger to us I would appreciate you putting a stop to it.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” Gareth pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Do you know how to open this door?”

Tax shook her body from side to side. “No. We have never needed to pass through. There is plenty of caves below us if we need to leave for any reason, though the mana of this place makes that unnecessary. We have no reason to go near that. We rarely even touch the strange man thing web. When the metal giants ascend the steam stops, and the moisture helps our crystals grow.”

“Ah. Well then looks like we’re going to have to work out another way through. Thank you though.”

Tax crouched her body low to the ground, a gesture that Gareth understood meant he was welcome.

Gareth turned, confident that the spiders wouldn’t suddenly pounce at him. Now that the danger seemed over they were fascinating things to look at, all fractal patterns and sharp edges. They were rather beautiful things, creatures that didn’t actually mean any harm. Sarkuran had said once to Gareth that the strength of his empire had been its decision to include monsters amongst his forces. It was the reason why the lands before the forest were not considered monster-ridden wasteland, the hardier creatures surviving the fall of his empire. It was a shame that introducing the spiders to the people on the surface was probably a step too far, at least for now. The piles of stone in the mine above wouldn’t be necessary if homes could be spun out of glimmering crystal.

“I don’t think their assistance will be necessary,” Sarkuran said, grunting slightly as he pulled on something. “I think perhaps I might have…”

There was a loud click followed by an almighty groan. Something within the chasm below began to move, more ancient clockwork starting a long-awaited sequence. The great set of doors began to move, slowly opening outwards to reveal the secrets behind them. Sarkuran was stood before them, looking unbearably smug at his achievement. The spiders scuttled past Gareth, their curiosity at what was behind the door getting the better of them.

The tunnel directly behind the doors was a grand one, a great arched corridor designed to match the grandeur of the entranceway. Unlike the tunnels above the surface of the walls weren’t smooth, instead, they were inlaid with elaborate stonework, complex interlocking lattices etched into the stone. It was a work of incredible skill and beauty, putting even the dwarven structures Gareth had seen to shame. The amount of time and effort it would have taken was scarcely believable. Spread along the arched ceiling of the tunnel at regular intervals were large blue crystals suspended on thick black chains. From within each light was emanating, not the purple glow of the spider eggs outside but the warm pleasing light of the midday sun. At the end of the tunnel was a platform, a round metal dais that was surrounded by arching blue crystal and curving metal. They looked like a set of talons rising from beneath to grasp the platform.

The spiders had become nervous, edging away from the doorway. Some of them were crouching low like they were trying to make themselves as small as possible.

“What’s the matter with them?” Imelda said, gesturing at the creatures. Despite not speaking their language it was evident to her that something was wrong.

“I’m not sure,” Gareth said. “Tax, what’s the problem?”

“The mana in here is foul. It took a moment to hit us after you opened the door, but there’s something in there. Something dark and sinister. I would not go inside man-thing. It is not right.”

“Eh, we’ve got a knack for finding dark and dangerous things,” Magda said. She had been happy to let Gareth take the lead on teaching Tax despite understanding the spider. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Sounds just like the undercity all over again.”

“I hope not,” Gareth said. “I’d rather not fight more nightmares. We’ve cleared out the undercity and there was that thing at the farmhouse. I’d like to think that’s the last we’ll see of them for a while. I’d rather not think of the alternative.” The nightmares gave Gareth a headache to look at. Thankfully the same wasn’t true of the ones Sarkuran summoned, whilst they were still monstrous to look at, they were ultimately of Acamida, its natural mana given shape. They didn’t have the same sense of wrongness to them that caused a buzzing behind the eyes.

“I wonder what they could be sensing. There doesn’t seem to be anything in this tunnel,” Sarkuran said. “Looks like a dead end.”

“Aside from that platform, it could head down maybe?” Imelda had already taken a step inside. The purple light of the cavern had hurt her eyes and she was finding the magical daylight much more tolerable. “Like one of those lift systems they used to move stones into place when rebuilding the wall back in Wildermount.” Imelda reached down and touched her leg. It had been broken during the siege; her body crushed under rubble. A few weeks rest and some expensive ointments that had drained their funds had healed it, but occasionally it still ached.

“Unlikely. There would be chains above it if that were the case. Of course, they could perhaps have a different method of achieving the same thing. They being whoever it was that built this place, of course. Digging a tunnel of this size this deep beneath the surface would have taken significant effort. Far beyond what I understand of the various civilisations that once called this world home.”

“Various? How many are there?” Gareth was genuinely intrigued. The more he learned about Acamida, the better his chances of surviving to prove himself worthy of being chosen as a hero. His desire to prove the gods wrong was giving him a drive he had never known.

“Who knows? In terms of the history of this world, from the start of my empire to today we’re nothing but a few blips along that timeline. This world has had a long life. Hundreds of civilisations, thousands maybe? I know of at least four different styles of historical ruins in my former lands. Nothing like this though. It’s truly fascinating.” Sarkuran’s eyes were wide as he took in the majesty of the construct.

“There’s darkness down there,” Tax said. “You could leave, close this entrance and let us seal it. If we knew there was this mana in there, man-thing, we would have webbed it shut a long time ago.”

“Can you remove your webs easily?” Gareth said. The strand crossing the chasm behind him looked strong enough to walk along.

“If we wish, yes.”

“Once we enter the tunnel, seal it up behind us. That way if something happens to us then you’ll be safe. You can let us out if we come back, right?”

“You would trust us not to simply leave you there forever?”

“I would. I think us man things and you spiders have come to an understanding.”

“No,” Tax said, moving slowly towards the doorway. “We have come to an understanding with you, not the man-things on the surface. We will seal this doorway and watch for your return. We will be able to hear you through the webbing. Be careful. The mana coming from this place is like that of the cavern but…corrupted. Something is twisting its energy, something dark and dangerous.”

***

Watching the spiders cover the entrance to the tunnel with their webbing was fascinating. The strands sprayed from the rear of the creatures as they did with flesh and blood spiders, the pink liquid quickly solidifying into glittering crystal. The spiders worked quickly, covering the looming entrance in a few minutes. It was impressive, and not for the first time Gareth wondered what it would be like to work with the spiders on the surface.

“Well. Now we’ve got no choice but to check the rest of this tunnel out, right?” Magda said. She began to reach out with a finger to touch the webbing but changed her mind at the last moment, interfering with it seemed like a bad idea.

“We were always going to go down here anyway,” Gareth said with a shrug. “You know that.”

“These crystals are incredible. They’re like super sunstones, kind of,” Imelda said, looking directly up at the one above them. The light coming from them was soft, and it didn’t hurt to look at. “This whole place is something else, it really is.”

“It is impressive,” Sarkuran began to walk forwards. The tunnel wasn’t particularly long, an interesting juxtaposition to how tall and wide it was. “The platform is what most intrigues me, however. I do wonder what exactly its purpose is.”

“We better go have a look then,” Gareth said. He walked with purpose, trying to get ahead of Sarkuran. If the others were going to look to him as a leader then he was intent on playing the part. “It is a bit odd, isn’t it? This huge massive set of doors and then…nothing. There has to be a point to it all.”

“Well yes, that is exactly what I just said. With rather more words I must add.”

“No arguing boys, there’s plenty of false bravado to go around.” Imelda had little patience for posturing. Despite her being the youngest member of the party, she had adopted the role of the group’s mother. The others were a little like children blundering their way through a world they didn’t fully understand.

As they grew closer, the sheer size of the platform and its construction was the first thing that immediately stood out. At the other end of the short tunnel, it had been difficult to tell just how huge it was, the looming walls around it obscuring its presence.

There was a set of three steps leading up to a round base plate of dark black metal. The curving talons arching around it were cast from a single piece, the metal shaped and smooth, whilst the crystals looked like those hanging from the ceiling above, though without the glow. To the right of the steps was a sheet of solid bronze standing up directly from the ground, runes etched across its surface.

The runes themselves were oddly shaped, not having a single straight line amongst them. They were collections of curving crescents of different sizes intersecting one another. Gareth thought it was strange he couldn’t read them, after all his gift had allowed him to speak with giant sentient spiders only a few minutes earlier.

The runes had immediately caught Sarkuran’s attention. “These sigils, they are unfamiliar to me. That lines up with the style of architecture being strange. It would seem to confirm that these ruins are from a civilisation I am not familiar with.”

“Ruins isn’t quite right, is it?” Imelda said, running her hand across one of the metal talons. “I mean, it’s not like this place is falling apart. It’s in better condition than the Troll and Bridge.”

“A fair assertion. We can tell that the builders of this place were at least humanoids of typical size despite the sheer scale of this tunnel.”

“How do you know that?” Gareth said. In his mind, a place this big had to have been built for giants.

Sarkuran kicked one of the steps leading up to the platform. “Because these steps are sized for people like us.”

Gareth suddenly felt very stupid. “Right, of course. I was just testing.” He stepped closer to the bronze tablet. “I don’t think this is a language. I can’t read it, and I should be able to.”

“Ah, interesting.”

“It is a language,” Magda said. She had gone quiet on seeing the familiar shapes etched into the metal. “It’s Eternal. The language of the gods. The true speech that underpins the fabric of reality.”

“Oh, nothing major then,” Gareth said trying to diffuse the seriousness with which Magda had spoken.

“You don’t understand. Here on Acamida, runes are what manipulates magic. Sigils and glyphs that tap into the mana of the world for effects. Inscribed on an item or written on a card, it’s all the same thing. On other worlds it's different, tattoos on the skin, specific hand gestures, chanting. It’s all the same thing ultimately, words, speech, art, taking your intent and making it real in the word somehow. Magic is the act of taking power and giving it form.” Magda stepped forward and began to trace her fingers over the metal. “I had…forgotten, about this. I think when they made me mortal the others stripped it from my mind but seeing it, I can remember fragments. Eternal is to reality what runes are to magic. With it, you can bend reality to your will.”

“Oh well, when you put it like that.” Gareth suddenly felt silly for making fun of Magda. “What does it say?”

“I…I don’t know. I recognise it, know what it is, but reading it,” Magda shook her head, her blonde locks swishing about her, “no, they’ve taken that from me.”

“A shame. Though I suspect had you been able to rewrite reality you might have mentioned it a tad earlier,” Sarkuran said, making a pinching motion with his fingers. “Still, that’s useful to know. Interesting that this place has statues of your godly form and the gods’ own script in it. I have no idea what that points to, but it's an added layer to the mystery to be sure.” Sarkuran walked up the steps and onto the metal platform. There was no noise as his boots touched the metal, the sound absorbed through a method he could not explain. “Curious. This whole thing is rather strange.” He began to walk towards the centre of the metal disk.

“Sark, maybe don’t go wandering off on your own,” Gareth said. Whilst the demon was the most experienced with traps, his complacency had already led to him setting one off accidentally.

“Oh, it’s fine. I suspect this is just an altar of some sort, perhaps one to our belov-”

A pillar of brilliant white light erupted from the disk, pouring upwards and striking the ceiling. It lasted just a second, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The disk was empty.

Sarkuran was gone.

Chapter Nine

Slack jaws stared at the platform as the three remaining members of the party tried to process what had happened. The pillar of light had consumed Sarkuran totally, leaving nothing of him remaining. They hadn’t needed to have been magical spiders to sense the powerful mana flowing from the beam, the hairs on their arms standing up for the brief moment it had been active. The power had seemed overwhelming, a short burst of pure energy. Subconsciously all three of the people standing before the platform had taken a step back, their bodies shying away from the perceived danger.

“What was that?” Imelda said, voicing the thought in everyone’s mind. “Do you think he’s…you know?”

“I mean, he must be, right? I’m assuming you felt the power of it. Who could survive that?” Gareth was still in shock. Sarkuran had been stood there one moment, then gone the next. It didn’t seem like a fitting end for someone who had ruled an empire.

“I’ve felt that power before, or something like it. It’s divine magic, but it isn’t pure,” Magda’s words were barely more than a whisper. She had no love for Sarkuran, after all, he was an agent of the Adversary, the entity that was slowly starving the gods of the life-giving divinity they required. That had been Magda’s job, choosing souls to be the gods’ chosen representative on a given world, to fight back the forces of the adversary and prevent them from cutting off the supply of divinity. It was obvious to Magda that the burst of energy had been altered by the Eternal scrawled on the tablet, and it frustrated her that she couldn’t read it.

“Not pure how?” Gareth was desperate to understand what had happened. He felt responsible, the others looked to him to lead them, and he had let one of the group just wander into a deadly trap.

“It’s been altered, I think by whatever is on this.” Magda kicked the tablet, the clang of her boot striking the metal echoing through the tunnel. Tears were welling up in her eyes, all the anger and frustration of her predicament coming to the fore. Magda had been pushing it down, trying her hardest to present as calm a demeanour as she could. Now it was crumbling to reveal her true self.

“It’s not your fault,” Imelda said. She could sense the pending breakdown coming. “If you can’t read this stuff anymore because of what someone else has done to you, blaming yourself isn’t helpful, blame them.”

Magda didn’t find the wyrmkin’s words helpful. She slumped to her knees; her hands pressed flat across the tablet. “I hate it. I hate all of this!” The tears were running freely down her cheeks. “I’m supposed to be a goddess. A holy being. Not slumming it on some unimportant mudball. All I wanted to do was help someone, to just do a nice thing, and this is my punishment? It’s not fair.”

“Unimportant?” Imelda mumbled.

“I’m just sick of everything. Sick of all the annoying little things that mortals need to do. Sick of scrabbling to survive. I don’t know how you all do it for as long as you do! You know what the worst part is? Seeing all the pain of being alive first-hand. I always knew living hurt, I got to see the lives of every soul I judged, but it was always so…disconnected. It had happened, it was in the past. Everywhere I look here I see people suffering. During the siege, after it, just agony and pain and death. I could have snapped my fingers and made it all go away. But like this, I can’t do anything.”

“That’s not true,” Gareth said, putting one hand on Magda’s shoulder. “You helped during the siege, helped me end the entire thing. If that’s not doing something, I don’t know what is. That’s the thing about being mortal, sometimes you can’t do anything to help, which makes it all the more important that you step in when you can.”

“I should have known this would happen. I should be able to read this stupid thing! He was a pompous, stuck up, arrogant-”

A beam of light filled the platform, the same tingling sensation of its overwhelming mana returning. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving a lone figure standing on the platform. He smirked and then brushed his white hair from his eyes.

“I trust there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth whilst I was gone?” Sarkuran said, stepping off the platform. “I see Magda is displaying the appropriate level of reverence.”

“No offence, Sark, but we assumed you were dead,” Gareth said. “Big beam of light and all that. Plus, you’ve got form on setting off traps.”

“Once, I set off a trap once. Besides if I recall correctly, I was also the person who disarmed said trap.”

“What happened to you?” Imelda asked. She wanted to skip over the argument over who set off what. “You just vanished.”

“I didn’t vanish, well, not in the sense I was invisible. This platform is rather remarkable, I must say. Its effect seems to be on a few seconds delay once you step onto the disk. I think it would be best to show you what it does.” He gestured to the platform behind him. “We should step onto it together, there would seem to be a cooldown effect.”

“You idiot! You shouldn’t just go touching things like this!” Magda had stood up and was screaming at the top of her lungs. She reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes, the crushing existential weight of mortal existence forgotten as her anger worked its way to the surface. “Do you know how many people have died touching something they shouldn’t? Because I do, and it’s a lot!”

“Yes well, in this case, it’s worked out rather well. I am sorry.” Sarkuran bowed slightly, a rare show of humility from him. “Just trust me on this however, you’ll be astounded.”

***

The light faded, Gareth’s eyes taking a moment to adjust. The light had tingled as it had washed over him, and for a brief moment, Gareth had felt like he was falling. He was relieved to find the feel of solid metal beneath his feet, the sensation fleeting.

A chill wind was the first thing that caught his attention, the air buffeting his body and sending him into a shiver. The second thing he noticed was that the daylight emanating from the crystals was gone, darkness shrouding him. As his eyes adjusted Gareth realised that he was no longer in the tunnel, instead, he was standing in the open, the night sky stretched out above him. That was strange, by his reckoning, it should have been late afternoon at the most.

He looked around himself, taking in his bearings. The platform he was standing on looked identical, but the trees around it were new. Thick forest surrounded it on every side, enormous pillars of wood with wide vibrant leaves their green visible even in the moonlight. Vines snaked around their trunks like the grasping tendrils of some unseen creature. Thick leafy ferns were at their base, ones far bigger than Gareth knew were possible.

In the distance, towering over the rainforest around him, was a massive structure, a grand tower piercing the heavens. From where he was standing Gareth could see that the tower was covered in the same interlocking carvings as the tunnel had been, though the design would have to be considerably larger to be visible at this distance. At the very top of the tower was a set of windows, light pouring out from them into the night.

Quest Updated: Explore the ruins discovered in the crystal mine. Ensure the safety of the miners and remove any threats.

Optional objective added: Explore the tower.

Optional reward: 1800 experience points.

Gareth could scarcely believe his luck. If he completed the optional objective, then the total experience points for the entire quest would double. It was an enormous amount of experience, more than enough to jump him up several levels. Attempting the optional objective was never in doubt as far as Gareth was concerned, there was no way he wasn’t exploring a mystical tower hidden behind some kind of magical teleporter.

“I trust the sight does not disappoint?” Sarkuran said, gesturing towards the tower. “I must admit this was rather unexpected. Teleportation magic was something I had the finest magical minds in my empire working on to no avail.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Where even are we?” Gareth stepped down from the platform. At its base was the remains of a stone path, the vast majority of it reclaimed by the rainforest. The trees seemed to avoid the platform, stopping a metre or so short of it. The source of the mana that had unsettled the spiders had to have been the platform in the tunnel, so Gareth assumed that perhaps a similar thing was keeping the trees at bay.

“In a rainforest?” Magda said, her face still puffy from crying. “I thought that would have been obvious.”

“I know that! Obviously, there are no rainforests in Wildermount. It was more…temperate. Is that the right word?” The climate of Wildermount was about what Gareth was used to, if a little less rainy. “Is this even Acamida?”

“Looks like it,” Imelda said, pointing upwards. Both of Acamida’s moons were hanging in the sky.

“It would appear the distance we have travelled is significant,” Sarkuran said, stepping down from the platform. “Considering it was afternoon where we were. And we know there’s no time delay on the platform, or at least I’m assuming so, my return trip only took a few moments.”

“Yeah, you weren’t gone long.” Gareth was still stunned by travelling half a world away in an instant. “It’s useful to know we can get back as well. Being stuck here wouldn’t be ideal.”

A screech filled the air as something flew overhead, its wings casting a shadow across the ground. The creature was difficult to see in the night sky, only its shadowy outline visible. It was almost entirely wing, the shape vaguely familiar to Gareth. It passed over quickly, swooping towards somewhere else.

“If we’re going to check out this tower, we should get moving. I can feel eyes on us and if that thing is typical of the size of creatures that make this place their home…” Imelda’s eyes darted between the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the monsters she was sure were watching. “This place, this forest it’s like my home but different. I can feel the mana here but it's more…primal.”

“Agreed. That tower looks…far. Hopefully, I’m wrong and it's actually very close but weirdly short,” Gareth said. He knew that wasn’t the case. If anything, it was probable the tower was even further than he thought it was, the structure likely built to the same scale as the tunnel. It was obvious that the two were linked. “You know. I reckon this teleporter thing is meant to serve that tower, right? It’s for travelling from here to the ruins under the mine.”

“A likely explanation, yes,” Sarkuran said.

“Then why is it so far from the tower itself? Shouldn’t it be right inside?”

“Possibly a safety measure? That way if the other end is captured by an enemy they aren’t appearing directly inside your home, or sending through say, a pile of explosives.”

Gareth nodded. Sarkuran had a point. The platform didn’t seem to have any kind of locking mechanism, it had let the party simple wander through it. There had probably been guards standing by during the heyday of whatever civilisation had built the tower.

“Come on. This place is creeping me out,” Magda said. “I don’t like it. First, there’s those statues to me, then this weird platform, now a tower in this huge forest. Nothing about this makes any sense.”

“Well, there’s one place at least we’ll hopefully find some answers,” Gareth said, pointing to the tower. “Hopefully that light means there’s someone home.”

***

Moving through the rainforest was slow going. The ground was uneven, a carpet of gnarled roots threatening to trip even the most careful hiker. Even Imelda was finding it difficult. It didn’t help that once under the canopy the party had found themselves in near-total darkness, forcing a return to using their sunstones. The gap in the trees around the platform had allowed light from the twin moons to illuminate it, whilst the canopy brooked no such intrusion of the light, the trees fighting for arboreal dominance. It would have been easy to get lost on route to the tower if it weren’t for Imelda’s almost supernatural sense of direction.

The wyrmkin raised a hand, bringing the group to a stop. She gestured silently to her deck box, flipping the lid open, an unspoken signal for the others to do the same. Despite not having any enhanced senses, sheer experience was telling Imelda that something was waiting to pounce.

The treeline exploded into a flurry of leaves as a creature leapt through, soaring through the air with talons raised. It landed on a thick root in between the party, the group scattering thanks to Imelda’s warning.

The beast was a bipedal thing, its thin legs holding aloft a body that sloped forward, tail trailing behind it. Its body was covered in a thick coating of feathers, its mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. It had eyes on either side of its head, and a long curved horn on the tip of its nose.

“A dinosaur? Really?” Gareth said. It wasn’t quite like any he had ever seen. He knew that the idea they were covered in feathers was a relatively new one, all the toys he had as a child had been of featherless reptiles, but seeing it was still strange. It wasn’t a species he recognised, the creature was raptor-like, but it was much bigger than even those Gareth had seen in movies. It was easily a head taller than him.

The beast let out a cry that sounded almost like a goose honking, though much louder. Several honks answered it from within the rainforest. The dinosaur wasn’t alone, it had a pack.

“What’s a dinosaur?” Imelda said, summoning a bandit into existence. “This thing?”

“Yes, this thing! It’s a kind of lizard…thing? Are they lizards? I don’t think so.” Gareth looked at his hand, checking the cards he had available. Two Lightning Blasts, a Puny Goblin, a Goblin Catapult and his new Goblin Battlemaster. He started by summoning his battlemaster. It would improve the power of all of his future goblins, and had a reasonable number of stats itself, two hundred and sixty in both attack and defence after Gareth’s feats and skills, along with two hit points.

The battlemaster took shape. It was taller than the other goblins, though that wasn’t saying much. It was a male goblin, Gareth had learned the difference, and was wearing what could have been described as an attempt at full plate. The sections of armour were mismatched and poorly assembled, plates overlapping one another awkwardly. Two holes had been cut into the sides of a human-sized helmet to allow the battlemaster’s ears to poke through. In his hands, he was carrying a standard mace as though it were a two-handed weapon.

Two more of the raptor-like monsters appeared, racing through the trees, honking to one another as they coordinated their attack.

“Hey, uh, maybe don’t kill us?” Gareth said, attempting to speak with the creatures. They didn’t respond, ignoring his words. He sighed, it had worked with the spiders, but he couldn’t expect every monster to be sentient. “Attack that dinosaur,” Gareth said, a sentence he thought he would never have to utter.

The battlemaster charged, hoisting his mace over his head as it rushed the raptor in the centre of the group. The monster honked in defiance, the long talons on its feet clacking against the root it was standing on. It lowered its head and bared its teeth at the goblin, a mistake it wouldn’t live to regret as the mace slammed against its head with a sickening crack.

The other raptors charged, enraged by the death of their packmate. One leapt at Imelda’s bandit, claws digging into its chest as the dinosaur slammed into it. The bandit collapsed back into energy before the raptor’s teeth could bite into its neck, mercifully saving it from a grizzly death.

“A little help you two?” Imelda said, annoyed at the death of her bandit.

“Alas, I have drawn only spells and monsters I cannot summon,” Sarkuran said. “Besides, I’m certain you two can deal with these comfortably.”

“Uh, same here. I’ve got no monsters either,” Magda said with a shrug. “Wait, summon the bandit again when it’s ready actually, I’ll power it up!”

“Would have been nice to do that from the start!” Imelda stared at the bandit card. It had returned to her hand when slain, the ability inherent to the monster. She selected it again, the bandit returning to existence with no evidence of the raptor’s attack.

“Don’t worry,” Gareth said. “I got this.” The battlemaster had slain a raptor with a single blow, which meant he had a good idea of how tough they were. He smiled as he selected his next card.

Familiar energy coalesced before him, the light adding to that of the sunstone in Gareth’s right hand and the cards floating before him. Lightning lashed out, arcing between trees and striking one of the raptors. The creature shuddered as electricity flowed into it, the smell of singed feathers filling the air. It slumped to the ground, easily slain by the powerful spell.

Gareth couldn’t help but smile. After the frustration of the crystal spiders ignoring his magic, it was good to be slinging lightning again.

“You got the last one?” He turned quickly, trying to catch sight of the remaining raptor. He could see the others moving through the trees, trying to keep away from the creature.

The last raptor announced its presence, honking loudly in defiance. There was no reply, the creature the sole survivor of its small pack.

“Magda, now!” Imelda shouted, pointing towards her bandit.

Golden light began to pour into the scimitar wielding monster, its muscles swelling as its strength increased. Magda’s magic was powering it up beyond its normal limits, increasing both its attack and defence. The bandit charged; their weapon raised above its head as it sprinted silently at the raptor.

The canopy above parted for a moment, moonlight racing through as something massive crashed through. It swooped down, snatching the raptor up in a set of enormous set of jaws and coming to a stop on the forest floor. The creature lifted its head, hungrily swallowing the remains of the raptor in several large gulps.

The new arrival was a terrifying thing to behold. A massive beast of scale and talon. It was reptilian, its head lined by an impressive frill, its teeth long curved daggers that glistened with still-wet blood. Its forelimbs were a set of powerful leathery wings. The monster was using its wingtips to support its weight, its back legs short and stubby. It had a long sinewy tail, upon the end of which was a single wicked talon that dripped with a clear ooze.

Its meal finished; the monster turned to face the strange creatures around it. It didn’t recognise what they were, the odd beasts certainly not the usual kind of prey it hunted. It didn’t matter, they were small, insignificant, and therefore its next meal.

The empowered bandit rushed at the winged creature; their scimitar raised ready to strike. It swung its blade, drawing blood as it sliced across the left wing of the beast. Immediately the bandit flew backwards, the monster lashing out with its tail in a motion almost too fast to see. The bandit bounced off the forest floor and rolled to a stop. Its skin had gone pale, what little was visible of its face amongst the folds of its hood withered and gaunt. The thick slime of the monster’s barbed tail covered a puncture wound on the bandit’s chest.

The summoned warrior collapsed into energy, returning to Imelda’s hand. Even with the enhancements from Magda, it hadn’t been enough to prevent the destruction of her monster. She had managed to wound the beast, which meant that her bandit had been powerful enough, but either the enemy was ferociously strong or the slime dripping from its tail was a potent poison. Imelda realised there was nothing to stop it from being both.

Lightning crashed into the flying reptile, the bolt lighting up the forest around it. The monster shrieked, a black mark spreading across its scales where the lightning had seared its flesh. It turned its attention away from Imelda, seeking the source of its pain.

Its eyes settled on the battlemaster, the goblin standing before Gareth with its mace in hand. The gigantic lizard snapped out with its jaws, grabbing the battlemaster in its mouth, fangs clanging off the goblin’s armour. The winged reptile tossed its prey aside, finding the taste of the mana construct unpalatable. The battlemaster struck a nearby tree, sections of its ramshackle armour flying off as it slid down the trunk.

Gareth glanced at the cards in his hand. Another two had been drawn during the fighting with the raptors. He had drawn his den mother, along with another Puny Goblin. Looking quickly at his remaining mana, Gareth summoned his Puny Goblin. It would use one of his two remaining mana but getting more creatures out would be vital to his survival. Every attack would chip away at the beast.

As the goblin formed, a shadow rushed through the forest, the vicious reptilian beast yowling as something slashed at its jaw. A winged humanoid figure—its form made of buzzing darkness— circled it, claws dripping with the beast’s blood.

“Sorry about the wait, I finally drew something useful,” Sarkuran said. He was holding his runic knife in his hands, two halves of a Gibbering Mouther flanking him from where his feat had triggered. “Managed to hit something rather more substantial this time.”

Angered at the presence of the shadow creature flying around it, the wounded beast lashed out, its tail darting with unnatural speed. The Reality Stalker exploded into shards of indigo light, the strength of the blow sparing the nightmare from the reptile’s poison.

A golden arrow thudded against the creature’s side; the shot fired from an oddly buff cherub. Magda had drawn one of her monsters and enhanced it with one of her Holy Boon spells. The extra power was enough to allow the small creature to pierce the scaled hide of its foe.

The winged monster reeled; the wounds dealt to it adding up. Its movement was slowing, its strength fading from it. The creature bellowed, the forest around it shaking from the monster’s agony. It went to snap its jaws around the Puny Goblin rushing it, but an enchanted arrow slammed against it, paralysing magic causing it to slump to the forest floor. The goblin brought its club down ineffectively bouncing off the tough hide of the great lizard.

“I’ve got one more Holy Boon!” Magda was shouting, the sound of the creature’s roar still ringing in her ears.

“Toss it on my bandit!” Imelda said.

Golden light flowed between the trees, enhancing the third version of the same bandit. The card’s ability to recur was proving its incredible utility.

A scimitar plunged easily through the scales of the stricken lizard, blood staining the blade.

“Hey, you still ok?” Gareth said, his words directed at the battlemaster. It nodded back to him, a rare glimmer of sapience from a summoned monster. “Good. Go hit that thing!”

Shouldering its mace, the battlemaster strode forward confidently, a swagger in its step. There was a glimmering of vengeance in its glowing red eyes, fragments of emotion finding their way into the mana that formed it. It lifted the weapon above its head, both hands grasping the bottom of the shaft. It brought it down with a heavy blow, the crack echoing through the trees.

Pack Hunter defeated.78 experience points gained.

Pack Hunter defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Primordial Wyvern defeated. 296 experience points gained.

“We better keep moving,” Imelda said. A bead of sweat was trickling down her brow and cascading over her scales. “Who knows what else is in this damn forest.”

Chapter Ten

The party picked up its pace, trying to move as quickly through the rainforest as they could. They knew that more monsters could easily be lurking in the darkness, the battle with the raptors and the wyvern hadn’t exactly been quiet, the group announcing their presence to every creature nearby. Knowing that the jungle contained aggressive and powerful monsters had spurred on the party, the difficult terrain providing less of an issue now they had an added impetus to traverse it. The echoing honks of raptor packs in the distance only served to reinforce the need to keep moving. The creatures had been easily dealt with individually, but no doubt larger groups of them called the rainforest home.

The night air was surprisingly cold, a chill wind rustling through the leaves of the canopy above. It caused cloaks to be held tight to their owner’s bodies, a futile attempt at keeping the cold at bay. On one of the branches overhead, a flock of avian looking dinosaurs huddled for warmth, the branch consumed by plumped and preened feathers.

“I still can’t quite believe I’m seeing dinosaurs,” Gareth said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group as they continued their trip. There was little point trying to remain stealthy, the fighting had announced their presence and Gareth had no doubt the creatures of the jungle could track him with little problem even if he was totally silent.

“What is a dinosaur?” Imelda said. “You used that term during the fight, but I have no idea what it means.”

“It’s like a kind of big lizard thing. With feathers as well as scales. They were common on my world, Earth, millions of years ago before they went extinct.”

“Extinct? You mean they all died?”

“Yeah exactly, people think an asteroid hit them and wiped them out.”

“Hold on, what’s an asteroid?” The conversation was rapidly turning into a list of terms that Imelda didn’t understand.

“Oh, well.” Gareth carefully stepped over a protruding root. “It’s a big rock from space, there’s millions of them out there from planets that never formed, or got destroyed, that kind of thing. Sometimes one gets drawn towards a planet and then when it hits, well, the blast can be pretty powerful. Strong enough to wipe out all life on a world.”

“Wait, you’re saying that one day a massive rock might just fall out of the sky and kill everyone?” Imelda was aghast. She knew life was dangerous, but at least with terrestrial dangers, she could try to do something about it. The idea that something could just kill everyone on Acamida randomly didn’t sit well with her.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t worry about it. Like I said this was millions of years ago on Earth. It’s so infrequent and unlikely that it might never happen again. Anyway, dinosaurs were the dominant animals on Earth for a long, long time before that all kicked off. Now we just find fossils in the ground, some dusty bones all that’s left of them.”

“Ah, you mean ancients,” Sarkuran said. “Similar creatures existed here on Acamida. Fossils were a common find during my era, and I’m assuming the same is true of this one. The skeletal remains of fantastic beasts were a popular display at festivals and the like.”

“Oh, right. Ancients. Yeah, I know what we’re talking about now. We’ve found the odd bone here or there near the river in the forest. I never thought they would be feathered though, I always assumed they were like, well that wyvern. Does that count as an ancient?” Imelda ducked under a low branch as she led the way deeper into the rainforest. “I’ve seen wyverns once or twice, they live in the mountains at the edge of the forest, and they aren’t anywhere near that big. Or that angry.”

“It’s a common pattern on most worlds, or so I’m told anyway,” Magda said. “It takes a long time before a world is suitable for sentient life, and until then they tend to be dominated by all kinds of strange creatures.”

“Looks like some of them survived at least, in…wherever this place is,” Imelda said. “I like the idea that you can never really get rid of something. Life is too tenacious to let go.”

“Honestly, right now I’d rather it wasn’t. Those things had a lot of teeth,” Gareth said. “You know what’s worse? That shadow that flew over us when we arrived, I don’t think that was the wyvern. The wing shape was all wrong.”

“So, there’s more flying things that want to eat us out here?” Magda said her eyes drifting upwards to the canopy.

“I suspect the creature was drawn in by the beasts my notifications called Pack Hunters,” Sarkuran said. He was coping with the cold better than anyone else. His makeshift cape had formerly been a tent and was keeping out the chill. “I rather think we were an added bonus. A side dish to the main course, so to speak.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around eating as is, I’d rather not become someone else’s dinner.”

“That’s just how the world works,” Gareth said. “Animals eat things to survive.”

“It’s all pretty grisly.” Magda let out a long sigh. “Still, I’ve got to admit I do enjoy it sometimes…”

“Everyone does. It’s the one thing that every single person can agree on.”

“Hold up,” Imelda said, raising an arm.

Sarkuran came to a stop beside her, his hand dropping to the lid of his deck box. “Is there something out there?”

“No. Well, yes, but I think we’re not in danger for now. I stopped us because something caught my eye.” Imelda held her sunstone forward, the light dancing off the trees nearby. There was a glint in the darkness as the light caught something shiny. Imelda crept closer, holding the stone out as far as she could.

Wrapped tightly in thick vines was a statue, the top left of its head the only thing visible beneath the dense plant life. It was this that had caught the light, the statue was covered in a golden metal though age had caused sections to flake away and reveal cast bronze beneath. Despite the small section that was visible, it was obvious the statue was the same basic design as those that had flanked the bridges back in the cavern, though it was significantly smaller.

“Looks like another one of those Magda statues,” Imelda said. “That would seem to confirm this is all linked.”

“Perhaps the ruins back in Wildermount are a kind of port? It would make sense if you have platforms capable of teleportation,” Sarkuran said. He prodded the statue with a finger. “If it were up to me, I would have one central nexus point to which all teleporters connect. That would be the most obvious method of organising them.”

“They could have actually put the effort in to make this out of real gold,” Magda said, scowling at the statue. “If people are going to exalt me, they should at least be showing the proper level of deference. Something certain people would do well to learn.”

“Oh of course your holiness, should we get down on our hands and knees as well? Looking upon your divine brilliance it's too much for us!” Gareth bowed low, his one arm stretching out as far as he could get it.

“Well, it would be a good start at least.”

“Anyway, stupidity aside, this confirms we’re on the right path at least. I was worried I might have lost my bearings during that fight.” Imelda stepped away from the statue and examined the trees around her, trying to decide on the best route forward.

“Wait, you didn’t know where you were going?” Gareth said, straightening himself.

“Oh no, I did. Or well I had a rough idea anyway. You’ve got to remember I’ve lived most of my life in a forest that can shift and change in moments. Knowing vaguely which way you’re going is my normal.”

“Not exactly reassuring.”

“You’re welcome to lead the way through a strange jungle if you want to.”

Gareth held up his hands and took a step backwards. “No way. You’re still the closest thing to an expert we have and honestly, I’m not sure I wouldn’t walk us directly into a pool of quicksand or something like that.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sarkuran said, his head tilted back as he wistfully recalled a memory. “I’ve been stuck in quicksand more than once, pools of it were common in the lands that were my empire, and during the heat of battle, well you’re not always looking where you’re stepping. It’s not like it is in stories, many a troubadour loves the idea of people sinking into the ground forever. The truth is that sand becomes compacted by your body as it sinks, and quickly too. You’ll never really get above waist high at worst before your effectively floating. You can actually just wade out of it.”

“Thanks for the totally unnecessary physics lesson,” Gareth said rubbing his forehead. “I was using it as an example, I didn’t mean that specifically.”

“I understand it was a metaphor, but it’s still useful information to know. Especially because it is indeed quite likely there may be quicksand in this place. You know, it’s rather fascinating. The presence of these statues both here and in the cavern would imply that they are linked in some way to the platform. I know that’s rather obvious, but it was always possible that the statues could have been built afterwards, the platform discovered by some second civilisation.”

“One that could build that machinery that gives you a big dramatic sight when you arrived? What are the odds that two advanced civilisations existed in the same place one after the other? Personally, I think the statues rising from the depths to welcome you is a bit over the top.” Gareth smirked; he knew the last sentence would annoy Magda.

“I think it’s rather apt. After all, teleporting across the world is a miraculous thing, so why not include a tribute to your goddess,” Magda said on cue.

“You know, I was joking, but actually when I think about it every airport I’ve ever been to has had a big gaudy sculpture outside, and honestly your statures wouldn’t look out of place in front of one.”

“What’s an airport?” Imelda said. Sometimes she found Gareth impossibly strange.

“Oh, it’s a place where flying machines are launched from. Like a port for the air. Basically, as it sounds.”

“You say that like flying machines are a common thing.”

Gareth shrugged. “They kind of are on Earth.”

“We should keep moving,” Sarkuran said. “Unless of course, we plan to stare at this statue until one of the ancients here decides to snack on us. I’d rather not die because we stopped to admire a statue of Magda. I see enough of her face as it is.”

“Rude,” Magda said, poking Sarkuran with her sunstone.

“And yet not inaccurate.”

“He’s got a point,” Imelda said, taking a step past the statue. “Not about the seeing your face too much thing, but about getting a move on. Come on, it can’t be much further now.”

***

The tower stood tall before the rising sun, the light cascading in from behind it and casting the structure in shadow. Up close it was enormous, reaching high into the sky above. A set of great doors almost identical in design to those that had sealed the tunnel were closed, vines creeping across then where the massive golden portals hadn’t opened for untold centuries. The space around the tower was covered only in a thin layer of grass and a few hardy ferns, along with the ever-present tangle of vines that seemed omnipresent throughout the rainforest. The trees themselves had kept their distance, leaving a distinct circle a significant distance from the tower.

Scattered throughout the grass on the lead up towards the tower were fragments of an ancient road, chunks of smooth polished stone that had cracked apart over the ages. As it reached the base of the tower the road spread around it in a circle, splitting off in eight different directions and vanishing into the forest. It lent credence to Sarkuran’s theory that the place was a nexus, that at the end of each path would be another platform leading elsewhere into the world.

It was an incredible find, one that the guild could never have expected. Gareth wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Having access to rapid travel across Acamida was something that would be irresistible to some. Wildermount had just survived one war, brief as it was. If someone gained control of the teleport network, they could march an army worryingly close to the capital within only a few days. Gareth was under no illusions that the opposite wouldn’t also be true. No doubt the temptation to use it would be too great for the nobles who ruled the kingdom to resist.

“We can’t tell anyone about this place,” Gareth said as the group walked slowly towards the tower. The sheer size of the thing was causing them to take their time, almost like the shadow of the tower was casting a weight onto their shoulders. “It’ll just cause carnage in the long run. Someone is going to take advantage of this place.”

“I have to agree with Gareth here. Had I controlled this place when I was building my empire, well, then it would likely have spanned all of Acamida. Assuming of course that these roads lead to other teleporters and that they all don’t just go somewhere in Wildermount.” Sarkuran was smiling wide as he considered the possibilities. “Imagine it! You know what the most difficult thing is when marching a large army to face your enemy?”

“Finding enough people willing to follow an idiot like you?” Magda said.

“Close, but no. The most difficult part is logistics. A hundred thousand soldiers I can whip up in a few weeks, all it takes is some stirring rhetoric about how the other side is coming to destroy what you love, even if that isn’t strictly true. Even weapons are easy enough to come by, for every person willing to fight there are a dozen who want to loudly crow about how they support the troops but aren’t keen to put themselves in danger. Levying a tax to fund the army is easy. At first anyway, the longer a war goes on for the more that support drops away.”

“Is this rant getting to point?”

“The point, my dear goddess, is that shipping all those supplies, all the weapons, food, medicine, all the extra things that your army needs to survive even before they meet the enemy, is very difficult. Easily the hardest part. Something could easily go wrong, say a caravan is ambushed by an enemy force, and you find that your frontline troops are without food for a week. When the enemy attacks they’re weak, emaciated, if your soldiers haven’t deserted you before then.”

“Did you not train your forces to forage in the field?” Gareth had heard some advice along those lines once from a documentary he had been watching.

“Hah! Do you know what that actually means? A hundred thousand people can’t be sustained on plucking berries off bushes.” Sarkuran chuckled at the naivety of the statement. “What it means is to steal food from the people you’re invading. To raid homes and farms. No, I always tried to prevent my armies from doing that. It might help them with the logistical issues, but it causes all kinds of problems in the future. Conquered people aren’t exactly thrilled by the prospect, to begin with, and if you burn down all their homes and starve them in the process all you’re doing is fostering the inevitable rebellion.”

“Whilst the politics of conquering the world are fascinating,” Imelda said in a tone that was thick with sarcasm, “I do think Gareth is right. This kind of thing is too dangerous to let people just come poking around here. We’ve got to keep this a secret.”

“Aren’t we just poking around here?” Magda said. “I don’t think you’re necessarily wrong, but I’m not sure what qualifies us to be the keepers of whatever this place is.”

“I mean, to be fair there are statues of you all around it. If this is a temple to you, then technically you could argue you own it.” Gareth gestured to the remains of a nearby statue, Magda’s legs sticking from the ground by the side of the road, the rest of her old body fragmented around it.

“Oh, just what I always wanted. My very own decrepit tower in a monster filler jungle.”

Gareth held up his hands. “It’s free real-estate.”

“No property is truly free, why the cost of maintaining it alone can be significant. Especially a structure of this size,” Sarkuran said.

“No, it’s a…you know what? Never mind. It’s easy to forget sometimes that you don’t have the same frame of reference as I do. Do you think you can get us inside?” Gareth said, nodding towards the doorway they were approaching.

Sarkuran shifted his cloak to expose his arms and began to roll up his sleeves like a mechanic about to tell Gareth how bad the damage was. “I don’t see why not. I opened the first set after all. It should be much quicker this time now I know what I’m dealing with.”

“Those are some famous last words. We should set up camp before the doors whilst he works, I still think he only managed it through luck back in the cavern.” Imelda swung her backpack around and reached inside. The top of the rolled-up tent began to slide out of the aperture, the tent impossibly long for the space inside.

“I would have thought you would have some level of respect for my skills.”

“Oh, I do, it’s just at a very, very low level.”

“Imelda is right, we should rest before we go exploring some crazy tall tower. I don’t see any dinosaurs nearby, maybe they’re afraid of the place? Either way whilst the sun is rising here it has to be nearly night-time back in Wildermount. Last thing we need is to get tired whilst we’re out here. Who knows what’s inside this thing.”

***

It was a strange experience, camping as the sun rose. They had decided on splitting the party into two shifts, Gareth and Magda taking the first watch whilst Imelda and Sarkuran tried to get some sleep. They had decided on four-hour shifts, the time kept with a small hourglass Imelda had included in the supplies she had bought.

The temperature had risen as the sun had, causing Gareth to sweat uncontrollably. It was a humid heat, one that summoned an annoying number of buzzing insects that stabbed at his skin. He tore a chunk of bread in his hands and placed it into his mouth. It was dry and tough, but he was hungry enough not to care.

Here and there Gareth caught glimpses of the creatures in the jungle. He suspected he was right, they never came past the tree line, evidentially afraid of the imposing tower. There was definitely a group of Pack Hunters prowling about, no doubt ones that had tracked the party as they had made their way through the rainforest. Even they were keeping their distance.

“It’s kind of pretty out here,” he said, slapping at his latest insect bite. “Even if I am slowly being eaten alive.”

“I guess,” Magda said. She was sitting with her back against one of the giant golden doors and was tapping the toes of her boots together with boredom. “It’s way too hot though. Is this normal?”

“In some places, yeah. I think you get used to it.” Gareth took a long swig from a water canteen. It was one of a dozen in his bag, the runic magic of them counting them as one single object for its purposes. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly, for saving me. I joke, but I do appreciate it. I would never have come to this place. I mean, I’ve cast spells! I’ve battled a dragon! I’ve seen real-life actual dinosaurs. I would never have done all those things if it wasn’t for you.”

“Yeah well, I’m paying the price for it now.”

“We’ll get you back to where you belong. I’ll get you back to where you belong.” Tucked in Gareth’s quest menu was one of the first quests he had gotten. Return Magda to her godhood. He had no intention of leaving it undone. After all, if she was to be believed—and Gareth had no reason to doubt her—the souls not chosen were simply cast aside, tossed into a realm that the gods considered to be nothing but instant oblivion. That felt like an unforgivable crime to Gareth. He wasn’t a religious person, but it seemed like a betrayal. Instant unending nothingness at the point of death was better than an afterlife where you were judged and then casually discarded. To make things worse the traits that made a good world-saving hero had nothing to do with how someone had lived their lives. If anything, living a life most considered virtuous made you woefully underequipped to partake in an eternal war with a poorly defined foe.

“Thanks. I know you mean it.” Magda put her palms on the floor and allowed herself to slide down lower to the ground. “You’re right, this place is pretty.”

A loud crash rang out as a long slender neck broke through the canopy. The creature was enormous, a bulky sauropod chewing leaves as it grazed peacefully. Aside from a small ruff of feathers around its neck its skin was dark brown scales that looked almost leathery from a distance. It was an impressive sight, one that filled Gareth with awe.

“Woah!” Magda said, scrambling to her feet. “We better wake the others. If that thing is brave enough to come towards us, we’re in trouble.”

“No,” Gareth said, grabbing her hand as she tried to walk past him. “It’s fine. If it’s like the ones from Earth it’s a herbivore. A plant-eater. Like a big cow, more or less. As long as we don’t startle it, we’re fine. That’s assuming it even comes into the circle. I don’t think it will.”

“Oh. Well, now I feel stupid. I should have known that.” Magda realised she was still holding hands with Gareth and snatched her hand away. She felt embarrassed but wasn’t entirely sure why.

“How could you have known. Your knowledge of worlds is only surface level, right? You don’t know the ins and outs of everything there.”

“Yeah, but I can’t help shaking this feeling about this place. I should know it, I think. But I don’t. It’s like this lingering sensation that I can’t shake.”

“I can understand why,” Gareth said, watching the sauropod take another bite from a tree. “I mean, it is your face that’s on every stature we’ve seen. Maybe it’s just one massive coincidence? You don’t have like, an older sister or something like that?”

“No, not like you mean anyway. I guess technically all the gods are brothers and sisters, and we do look similar, but I know those statues are me.” Magda stepped towards the door and placed her hands against the metal. “I hope something in here just explains all of this! Everything about it seems just so, impossible.”

“Yeah well, I hope we find out,” Gareth said turning to look at the tower. “I just hope we don’t have to climb all the way to the top.”

Chapter Eleven

Sarkuran’s assertion that opening the door would be easy was proven to be unsurprisingly false, much to Magda’s joy. The mechanism inside was similar, but not identical and the demon king was on his knees before the door’s access hatch muttering to himself as he tried to release the locks. The towering sauropod watched him work from within the trees, fascinated by the strange creatures that had come into its home.

“Nearly there,” Sarkuran said, a claim he had made three times already. “I’m certain I have worked out the correct gear to move.”

“Oh, he’s certain this time,” Magda said with a chuckle. “He’s been at it an hour, but now, now he’s certain.”

“If you think you can pick the lock on an ancient door, then feel free to attempt it. Until you suddenly attain those abilities, please don’t disparage my attempts.”

“Oh, I won’t. When you actually make an attempt.” Magda kept her torment coming, missing the fact that it was genuinely annoying Sarkuran.

“Please, shut up and let me-”

There was a loud click as something slid into place. The doors began to groan, slowly opening outwards, the vines covering them tearing apart from the considerable strength of the mechanism moving them. As the doors pushed across the ground years of accumulated dirt and grass was churned up, swept aside by the golden metal was it swung open.

From within the chamber light poured, the same blue crystals that had illuminated the tunnel handing from the ceiling on long black chains. Inside the doors was a single round chamber, one that was dominated by a single massive plant sat within the centre of the room. There was no obvious way of ascending from one floor to the next, no staircase running around the outer edge of the room.

Something about the chamber felt off to Gareth. He stood there for a moment, his hand on his chin as he tried to work out exactly what it was.

“There’s something weird here, right?” he said, voicing his thoughts aloud.

“We’re standing in front of some strange tower, having been transported to a place where animals otherwise extinct still roam free. And this was supposed to be so we could enter a duelling tournament,” Imelda said. “Strange doesn’t cut it. I think I know what you mean though. The room looks…off, somehow.”

“It’s bigger than it should be,” Magda said. “Only a little bit, but it definitely is. It’s slightly wider than the tower.”

“You know what? I think Mags is right,” Gareth said. He stepped across the threshold, then back out again. Gareth took a few steps to the left, then to the right, trying to gauge exactly how much the sizes differed. It was much, the room inside had to be just barely a meter more in its radius.

It reminded him of an old science fiction show he had seen, one with a phone box that concealed an entire spaceship within. If the tower had been like that Gareth would have found it impressive, but as it was now, he could scarcely see the point. There had to be complex magic at work to make it possible, but Gareth didn’t understand why they hadn’t just made the tower bigger.

“Fascinating,” Sarkuran said, stepping into the chamber. “Magda is correct, for a change. It’s subtle, but this room is certainly larger.”

“I kind of don’t see the point,” Imelda said as she followed. “If you want to make something bigger, just, make it bigger? Basically.”

“I suspect perhaps that effect is replicated on each floor. It seems straightforward, but this tower is already enormous. Adding even a small amount to its width would have taken considerably more material. Trust me on this, as someone who has overseen the building of several large structures, it’s far more difficult and takes much more effort and time than you would think. If could have enchanted my fortresses to expand their size, even by a small amount, I certainly would have.”

“Huh, I never thought of that,” Gareth said. His sole experience of building was a few days of work experience he had done as a teen. All he had done was make cups of tea and carry a few bricks. “Would it be an easy thing to do? Enchant an entire building like that?”

Sarkuran held up his hands, his fingers stained with grease from the mechanism within the door. “I have no idea. I think it’s certainly beyond any rune crafter I’ve ever met. I have to imagine that if there was someone capable of doing something like this, they would make considerable money in the home improvements market.” Sarkuran began to rub the bottom of his chin, something he did whenever he had an idea. “You know if we can work out how it’s being done…”

“It’s using Eternal,” Magda said, pointing to the walls of the chambers. She had followed behind Sarkuran with Gareth at her side. Around the outer edge of the room were several massive runes carved into the stone. “Not something any mortal could replicate.”

“So, this place was built by a god then?” Gareth said, following the most logical outcome in his mind.

“Oh, well, I suppose so. I hadn’t really thought of that,” Magda said. “I guess it would have to be, the teleporter too. It doesn’t seem likely that a mortal could learn Eternal, the sheer power unleashed would…well, I don’t know what it would do but it can’t be good.”

“I think maybe this stuff is why the monsters avoid this place. If this Eternal stuff is supposed to be for doing whatever it is that gods do, maybe the mana around it feels off. The spiders did say the tunnel felt wrong,” Imelda said. “So, what now? It doesn’t look like there’s a way to get up.”

“Maybe there is,” Gareth said. Something had caught his attention. In the centre of the ceiling, there was a hole, a circular space missing from the floor above. “There’s a gap up there, which means I reckon there’s a way up in the middle of this room. Beneath that massive plant.”

“That has to be something that’s gotten in from outside, right?” Imelda took a step towards the plant.

It was a single enormous closed flower, its roots stretching across the room like tendrils. They worked their way down into the ground, pushing through the delicate tile that covered the floor. Studded around the base of the main bulb was several smaller versions, all similarly closed.

“Removing this will be…bothersome,” Sarkuran said. “Do we even have any equipment suitable for doing it?”

A smile crept across Imelda’s face. She swung her bag around and reached inside, producing a long leather pouch, a handle protruding from the end. “We sure do,” she said, gripping the handle and pulling it away. Light gleamed from a blade, a heavy knife in Imelda’s hand. “I picked this up just in case we needed to hack away at something.”

“In a mine? We were supposed to be underground, remember?” Gareth said.

“You can never be too prepared. Besides I was right, wasn’t I?”

Gareth couldn’t think of an answer. There was no way Imelda could have guessed they would find themselves in a rainforest somewhere else on Acamida, and yet her spurious purchase had born fruit.

“I’ve only got the one though, so this might take a while.” Imelda shrugged and began to walk towards the plant, knife held ready in her hand.

A root lashed out, the yellow-brown plant matter moving with incredible speed. It crashed against a screen of gold, Imelda’s deck reacting just in time to protect her from the blow. She slid backwards across the tile, stumbling as she tried to keep her footing.

The flower began to open, vibrant pink petals expanding outwards. From within the flower, a long stamen stretched forth, a figure sat atop it. It was humanoid in shape, though it had no face, its body coated in a thick layer of bark. Its fingers were long wooden talons, its hard thick bushels of leaves.

“Uh, ok then?” Gareth said. “Uh, we don’t mean you any harm.”

The creature within the flower didn’t respond. The flower it was sitting on began to move, its roots lashing out like whips as they tried to strike Gareth and his friends.

“Doesn’t look like they want to talk!” Magda said as she opened her deck box. Light swirled around her hands, cards springing into being.  She quickly touched one, summoning a cherub that hovered over her shoulder.

“No, it doesn’t.” Gareth drew his hand of cards and looked down at it. It was a great hand, a war banner, a battlemaster, two Puny Goblins and a Lightning Blast. He considered for a moment throwing the bolt of lightning at the wooden creature but decided against it. The big animated flower would no doubt have plenty of hit points, and having monsters fighting for him would be more damage in the long run. Gareth started by playing his banner. His Open the Reliquary feat made it free, and the power would be useful, he had no doubt that the flower would hit hard.

“You know, I imagined a lost of possibilities,” Sarkuran said, a pillar of light. “I certainly didn’t expect we would find this.” The light solidified, forming a pillar of stone covered in profane runes. It was one of Sarkuran’s newest cards, one he hadn’t yet had a chance to use. The Summoning Stone would provide him with fodder for his spells on a regular basis.

The creature within the flower flicked its wrist, needles of pointed wood launched across the room. They crashed against Gareth’s shield, a brief shimmer of golden light filling the chamber.

It wasn’t ideal. Once a shield card had spent its energy defending it was added to a duellists hand, becoming both reusable and free to cast. Taking early damage to benefit from this was a useful tactic in a formal duel, but when your opponent was trying their hardest to kill you it was one step closer to a grisly end. To make matters worse the card was Counterspell and didn’t seem like it would be particularly useful against the two plant monsters.

A familiar twanging noise rang out as Magda’s cherub loosed an arrow. From the golden light and bulging muscles of the angel, it was obvious that Magda had boosted its strength. The shot was good, the gleaming golden projectile rushing through the air towards the creature lording over the flower.

The arrow struck home, digging into the bark that formed the creature’s flesh. It shuddered backwards from the impact, then righted itself, reaching up and pulling the arrow from it. The tree-like thing tossed the arrow aside, the projectile fading as its brief magical existence ended.

The wound began to heal, knitting itself back together in moments. One of the vibrant petals below it wilted, dropping off the main body and falling to the ground, its colour fading quickly. The monster’s regeneration was startling, but it came with an obvious cost.

“Try and hit the small one. Ignore the flower!” Gareth shouted. He assumed the others would have worked it out as well but being clear about tactics when lives were on the line only seemed like common sense.

“Agreed!” Sarkuran said. As he spoke the Summoning Stone thrummed with power, a creature popping into existence next to it. The thing was a tiny blob of flesh with stumpy arms and slits for eyes. It wasn’t long for the world, Sarkuran pointing his knife directly at it. The tiny thing winked out of existence its faux-life sacrificed to power the knife’s effect. Three cards appeared before Sarkuran and he selected one quickly. “There appears to be a connection between the two of them.”

The Goblin Battlemaster formed before Gareth, the armoured goblin taking shape. Getting his forces set up wasn’t as quick as Gareth would like it to be, but it would powerful when done. The combined effect of the battlemaster, the banner and his feats would be giving two hundred and ten extra attack and defence to his puny goblins, tripling their effectiveness.

A shadow rushed forward as Sarkuran ordered his newly formed Reality Stalker to rush the wood elemental, the knife once again finding the card he was looking for. It weaved through the air, dodging between lashing roots as it raced towards its prey. Its talons were extended, needles of buzzing darkness ready to pounce.

Claws raked across bark, the wounds sealing almost as quickly as they appeared. On the body of the flower, a great gash formed, sticky clear sap pouring from the newly formed wound. Its appearance confirmed what they already knew—that the two monsters were linked somehow. Attacking the smaller creature was easier, its position affixed atop the stamen of the flower making it an immobile target.

A snapping noise filled the chamber as the flower lashed out with a root. It was aiming for Imelda, a sinister intellect driving its strikes. She was already down a card from her shield and had no monsters with which to protect herself. Shimmering golden light flared around her as root collided with magic barrier.

“Getting kind of low on shields here!” Imelda said. To add insult to injury the card from her shield was Forbidden Knowledge. The spell let her sacrifice one of her shields to draw two cards but ditching the last vestiges of her protection didn’t strike Imelda as a wise move. Her face twisted into a snarl and her fingers moved in a flurry as she cast what cards she could. A Paralysing Arrow raced through the air into the flower whilst two bandits took form. Golden light poured from the first shield card Imelda had gained, her Assassin’s Hideaway taking form. It appeared as a lone oak door standing alone next to her.

Gareth turned his attention away from the wyrmkin. The slowing poison she had sent flying into the flower would stun it momentarily, so he cast what he could, two Puny Goblins leaping into being. He had drawn more cards, a pair of Goblin Soldiers, but simply didn’t have the mana to cast them. Gareth knew what to do with his last unspent point.

“Charge lads!” he said, pointing at the wood elemental. “I’ll back you up.”

Lightning raced overhead as the goblins charged, a scorched mark appearing on the flower as the damage transferred to it. The wood elemental was too high up for the goblins to hit, their small stature impeding them, so they began to climb the stamen, clawing at the feet of the elemental.

“I am not going to stand here and let you lot do all the work,” Imelda said. Her whole life she had been surrounded by elemental plants. She had no intention of letting one get the better of her now. She simply nodded at her bandits, the entities understanding her unspoken orders.

They rushed towards the stricken plant, running side by side in perfect unison. Like the goblins reaching the elemental would be difficult, but the bandits had formulated a different plan within their mana-forged minds.

One increased its pace, racing ahead of the other towards the flower. It came to a sudden stop, turning around and dropping to a knee, its scimitar tucked into its belt, its hands outstretched ready. As the second one stepped onto its open palms it stood up, tossing its comrade high into the air. It turned, reaching out to grasp an invisible handle and opening a door shaped gap in reality through which it stepped, the universe shutting behind it.

The launched bandit swung its scimitar with all the additional force of its leap behind it, the blade slicing through bark with ease. As it fell another doorway of darkness appeared, the bandit falling through and vanishing as the doorway closed a second time.

The elemental ignored the wound as it sealed shut, the gash appearing on the waking flower. It swung its arm downwards to launch a barrage of needles at the goblins swiping at it from below. They deftly moved aside to avoid the spray, shimmying around their makeshift climbing pole as the battlemaster bellowed a warning.

“It has to be hurting!” Gareth said. Liquid was oozing out of the wounds on the flower, the damage adding up. It was awake from its slumber now, its roots starting to move with desperate rage.

“Well, let's find out shall we!” Magda said. She touched one of her cards and it transmuted into golden light, the energy settling on the cherub next to her. Its muscles bulged as it pulled back the string on its bow. “Go for it,” Magda said to the angel.

The arrow arced through the air, sticking into one of the hollow sockets that acted as the elemental’s eyes.

Green light filled the chamber, washing over the duellists. They raised their hands to shield their eyes, the glow blinding for a moment. As the light faded it coalesced into floating motes that slowly vanished, the effect familiar to them. It was the death throes of a summoned creature, the lingering energy left over from a used card.

“These are summoned monsters,” Gareth said, stating the obvious. The giant deadly flower was gone, the wood elemental scrambling to its feet. “But there’s no duellist here? What does that even mean?”

“It’s something perhaps we can discuss once the current crisis is dealt with?” Sarkuran said, nodding towards the standing elemental.

Now that the giant flower was gone, the centre of the room was clear. The collection of monsters was standing on a large black metal platform, not unlike the one that had teleported Gareth to the strange place he now found himself in. Unlike the teleporter, it lacked the long iron talons or scattered blue crystals. Embedded in the centre was a segmented ring, each section having a different rune etched into the metal. One of them was glowing bright azure blue, thrumming slightly with energy as the light slowly pulsed.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Gareth said. He could see his goblins had gotten to their feet faster than the elemental. “I don’t think that will be a problem.” The battlemaster looked Gareth’s way and he returned knowing nod to it.

The centre of the platform became a flurry of kicks, the goblins striking the downed creature over and over. Gareth almost felt bad for it, before remembering that it was likely the same as the giant flower, a construct of controlled mana. His suspicions were quickly confirmed as the creature exploded into green motes of energy.

“See. I told you.” Gareth snapped the lid of his deck box closed, his small squad of goblins vanishing.

Voracious Rageflower defeated. 350 experience points gained.

Dryad Plant Tender defeated. 92 experience points gained.

Level up – Level 18 reached.

Current Exp 168/1424

Four skill points gained.

Gaining a level from the ordeal was a nice benefit. Gareth opened his menu quickly and immediately put all four points into deck size. He wanted to get reaching the minimum for the tournament over and done with so he wouldn’t have to worry about it in the future. Provided they could explore the tower and earn the extra experience points for doing so, he would have plenty of points to spend on other skills.

The tournament felt like something from another lifetime ago. It had only been a few days since discussing it, but right now it didn’t feel important. Exploring some ruins to pay for the entrance fee had turned into a trek through the jungle and yet more questions about Magda’s connection to Acamida. There were only so many coincidences he was willing to put up with.

“That got a little close there. For me at least,” Imelda said. The door standing beside her opened to reveal only blackness within. Her two bandits stepped through, returning to reality. The relic allowed her monsters to hide away for a short period, safe from the reprisals of their opponents. Imelda had added it to her deck with the intent of pairing it with her deadly but fragile Hidden Blade, though she still hadn’t drawn both at the same time. Both the door and the bandits faded as she closed her deck box. “How are there summoned monsters here but no duellist?”

“Maybe it’s like back in the dwarven ruins, you know, in the undercity?” Magda said. Her cherub was still fluttering behind her shoulder. “They were using that crystal to keep four monsters summoned, right? If there is Eternal all over this place doing something similar should be easy.”

“The goddess makes a good point, for once,” Sarkuran said. “That’s a rather astute observation.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“I don’t recall ever making that claim.”

“I know you said you can’t read it, but any idea what the glowing rune means, Mags?” Gareth put an experimental foot on the metal platform. There was always the possibility of it being a trap, but Sarkuran’s wandering onto the platform had worked out in the end. Gareth suspected he had a good idea exactly what the metal disc was for.

“I see we’ve given up on being careful now,” Imelda said, following Gareth onto the platform.

“This is the same size as that hole up there. It’s got to be the way up. There’s no chains or anything that I can see, but maybe it’s a shorter ranged version of the teleporter? Seems like it’s the only logical way up to the next floor.”

The others piled on, inspecting the dark metal beneath them. They avoided the glowing rune, unsure as to what it meant.

“There’s one obvious thing we’re missing, right?” Magda said, pointing to the rune. “That has to mean something. Maybe it’s like, a switch or something?”

“We sure we want to be pressing random buttons,” Imelda crouched slightly to inspect the rune. “That said I don’t see any other options.”

“Well, no time like the present to find out,” Gareth said, stepping onto the rune. The segment of the ring it was imprinted on descended.

The platform began to rumble. Gareth suddenly felt unstable as the floor beneath him started to rise. The metal platform lifted from the ground, floating into the air as if lifted by an invisible hand. It slid through the opening in the roof, coming to a stop on the next floor.

“Oh, come on!” Gareth said as he saw what awaited him.

A long corridor stretched off into the distance, one leading far past where the edge of the tower should be. It was suspiciously empty, the length so far that he couldn’t make out what was at the end.

“It would appear the enchantments on this tower are far more elaborate than they would first appear,” Sarkuran said. “Considerably so.”

“You know there’s going to be some nonsense or other on this floor, right?” Gareth looked up and noticed another hole in the ceiling above. “The exit is right above us.” He pushed the button experimentally. Nothing happened, so he tried a few that were unlit. They didn’t depress, locking in place by some arcane method.

“We probably need to do something to turn on the rune for the next floor,” Imelda said. “Probably way at the end of this massive corridor.”

“Of course,” Gareth said rolling his eyes. “Well, we better get a move on then.”

Chapter Twelve

Mike put the glass to his lips, savouring the taste of the beer. He was sitting in the beer garden of a tavern, though it wasn’t his normal choice of drinking establishment. Strictly speaking, he was on duty, but if he had been sitting in the garden as the sun went down without a freshly poured pint flagon in his hand then it would have looked odd, and Mike was doing his best to fit in. At least, that was his excuse anyway. As far as Mike was concerned it was a perk of the job, his overtime payment for staying on duty long past when his shift had ended. As a bonus, his wife couldn’t complain about him wasting silver on drinks when they were being paid for by his small expense stipend.

“Evening, sir, I mean Mike,” Mavis said as she took a seat. She was wearing civilian clothes, a loose-fitting linen dress dyed black. The dye had begun to wash out in several places, giving the dress a mess of grey splodges across it.

“Evening, Mavis.” Mike another sip from his flagon. Like Mavis he was dressed in civilian clothes, a leather jerkin pulled tight over a white shirt. It was an attempt to look as incognito as possible, but like all policemen in the history of the multiverse, Mike had a particular vibe about him that was difficult to shake off no matter what he was wearing.

“Any particular reason you asked me to meet you here? Aside from the obvious.” Mavis nodded towards the flagon. The captain had asked her to meet him for what he had called undercover work but hadn’t explained exactly what it meant. Mavis hoped desperately it wasn’t some kind of innuendo.

“Sure is. You see that building across the street?”

“The butcher shop?”

Mike nodded. “Yep. It’s a front, the butchers is owned by the Bloodstones. It’s part of how they launder their money. The dealers come in with their ill-gotten gains and buy cuts of meat with frankly outrageous prices. Then when the tax collector comes around, they pay them out of the butcher’s profits and as far as the kingdom is concerned it’s all above board.”

“So, why are we staking this place out? If we know about it already what haven’t we shut it down?”

“We haven’t shut it down because technically there’s nothing illegal going on, nothing I can prove anyway. It’s not against the law to charge twelve gold for a side of beef. Now, what goes on underneath that place? Well, that’s really illegal, very highly against the law. Lots of skeeva growing, or at least, that’s the word on the street.”

“Is it?” Mavis said. She gestured to a passing waitress and placed two silver coins onto the tray the wyrmkin woman was carrying. The waitress nodded and headed inside the tavern.

“It is now, considering I’ve spent all day spreading that rumour. I’m hoping our skull painting friend will find the target too tempting to resist.”

Mavis smiled. Mike hadn’t worked his way up to captain of the entire tier by being stupid. “So, you just so happened to pick a Bloodstone run enterprise that we otherwise can’t do anything about? We fail to catch the guy, well, then hopefully this place gets taken out in the process.”

“Something like that. I did promise main office I would take care of this. Not that I had much choice though,” Mike said. “The idea of duellists getting involved with the families terrifies them. Scares me if I’m honest about it. We don’t need magic making our jobs harder. It’s bad enough when we have to judge some stupid street duel.” City guard members were registered as judges with the duellist’s guild, allowing them to formally adjudicate a formal duel. Duellists were mostly nobles or had been until recently, so they had a tendency to turn any argument into a duel. It was better to set up formal proceedings than allowing them to just sling spells randomly in the city streets.

The waitress returned, placing a flagon down on the table before vanishing off to take more orders. Mavis gripped the handle to take a long swig. If the captain was happy to drink during their stakeout, Mavis wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.

“Yeah,” she said, wiping some foam from the side of her mouth. “You won’t get any arguments from me. I mean, look at what some unrestrained magic did?” She bobbed her head towards the nearby wall. The tavern Mike had chosen was close to the outer walls, a great stone buttress rising past the building and joining the battlements nearby. “I dread to think what would have happened if someone hadn’t shut down that republic duellist.”

Like the rest of the city guard, Mavis had fought in the battle to defend the city. The Wildermount army had moved west to fight the bulk of the invading Republic forces, leaving only the guard and a swarm of novice duellists to protect the citizens inside the walls. Exactly who had knocked out the duellist leading the attacking force was a mystery. Several people had come forward, but they all had wildly contradictory stories. It was one of those things that was lost to the chaos of battle.

“Yeah, you ain’t kidding. I thought we were done for when that giant turned up.”

“Have you heard about Lord Hunter? They reckon his wounds during the battle were worse than the nobles are letting on. I’ve heard he’s never going to walk again, got one of those chairs with the wheels on it.”

Mike nodded. Lord Archibald Hunter was a Knight of the Cards, a member of the highest echelons of the Wildermount army. He had been a relative unknown until the siege, his noble house one of the smallest and least important, and his presence at the regular tournaments had been non-existent. Having been left in charge to help train the conscripted duellists, he had been forced to lead the defence of the city and had performed admirably, even if he had been unconscious for the last half of it. The noble had been on the wall as the giant creature had smashed its way through. It was a miracle he had survived at all.

“I’ve heard that, yeah. Wouldn’t surprise me, being crushed by a wall will do that to you. Would explain why they’re not parading him around as some big hero,” Mike said, taking another swig of his beer. He was disappointed to find only dregs at the bottom of his flagon. “I can’t imagine that will slow him down really. Not like you need your legs when you can throw spears of molten iron.”

“What do you reckon your affinity would be? If you found a deck? There must be one or two of them floating about.”

Mike slid back in his chair as he thought. “I’m not sure. Affinity is one of those things that’s either completely random or one of those, what do you call them? Cruel ironies, that’s the bugger!”

Mavis glanced across the street towards the butcher shop. A man had exited the door sideways, his bulky muscle forcing the odd manoeuvre. He was wearing a blood-stained white apron over his otherwise bare chest, tattoos covering his shoulders and back. Your friendly local butcher he certainly wasn’t.

“Looks like they’re closing up for the night. So, you reckon you would end up with like, an affinity for guards or something like that?” Mavis said.

“That or something weird like flying fish. You know, I had to arrest a drunk duellist once who was summoning giant bees all over a street. He was ranting about free honey for all or something like that. Imagine just having bees as your power. Or there’s that guy who’s been living at the Troll and Bridge who has goblins.”

“You think he’ll come? The guy we’re after anyway. We’re assuming it’s one guy. Could easily be a whole bunch.”

“It’s one guy,” Mike said. He considered ordering another beer before deciding against it. Having one on duty was a luxury, but he couldn’t afford to be even the littlest bit tipsy if something was to happen. “Those street-level thugs we picked up yesterday all said as much. No tough guy family soldier is going to lie about that. There’s no hurt pride if your opponent was a duellist and all you had was your fists.”

“What about the other thing they’re saying?” Mavis dropped her voice to a whisper. “That the duellist was a living skeleton?”

“That I reckon is them pulling our legs. I’ve seen some weird things in my time, but I’ve never seen a skeleton walking around on its own.”

“What about that trouble we had with those zombies? Does that not count?”

“A zombie is hardly a skeleton, is it?”

“I mean, it kind of is. Just one that’s still got all the skin left on it.”

Mike thought for a moment. “I guess that’s technically true, I suppose. That was just some runic enchantment gone wrong though. It wasn’t like they were casting spells and slinging cards. Weirder things have happened though, I’ll give you that.”

“So, how long before you think they’ll show? Long enough to get something to eat,” Mavis said, putting her hand on her stomach. “I’m starving.”

“You know what, yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Mike said, his chair squealing as he stood up. “I’ll go order at the bar, my treat. Well, the expense fund’s treat.”

“Well, in that case, get the biggest steak they have. And sides. Lots and lots of sides.”

***

Night had fallen fully, and the tavern had long issued last orders and closed its doors. This had forced Mike and Mavis to lurk in a nearby alleyway, a narrow gully that ran between two tall houses, floors constantly added to the buildings until they bent under the weight. It was a common sight in the lowest tier of the city. Land was at a premium so building up was often the only option. Mike’s own home three stories and his wife was pushing for him to add a fourth.

There had been no movement since the shop had closed. Mike was starting to suspect that their mystery assailant wasn’t going to show. He wondered if it was too obvious of a trap, or if they had found a much juicier target elsewhere. That didn’t seem likely, the butchers had to be filled with illicit cash, and his suspect had shown no interest in anything other than coin. If it was a rival family hitting these places, taking out such a key part of the criminal process would be too tempting.

“How long should we wait out here, Cap?” Mavis said in a whisper. Time had raced past midnight and on to early morning, the sun threatening to rise shortly. Once it did then the operation would be effectively over, there was no way the people they were after would risk the revealing glare of the sun.

“As long as we have to. Don’t worry I’ll sign off on the overtime.”

“It’s more the having to report for a shift on the gates at nine a.m., Captain.”

“I’ll cover you there as well, Sergeant. Don’t worry about it.”

“Overtime and a day off,” Mavis said. “You’re spoiling me today, Captain.”

“Hang on!” Mike crept to the edge of the alley. He had noticed something moving in the darkness. He peered out, hoping to catch a clearer sight of what was lurking within the night.

The figure stepped into a streetlamp, the oil above letting out a dull yellow-orange light. It wasn’t what Mike expected. It was a person, though their species wasn’t clear. They were wearing a heavy black cloak that obscured their body, whilst on their face was a white mask that looked like a skull. On one shoulder the figure had a large metal shoulder pad that looked unnecessarily gaudy. It was a rather elaborate disguise, one that only made the wearer more obvious. It was easy to see why the goons back at the guard station had thought they had been attacked by a skeleton considering the mask on display.

The figure was followed by two more shambling forms. As they headed into the light pallid skin and rotting flesh became clear, the skull wearing duellist escorted by a pair of zombies.

Mike pulled himself back into the shadows, so he wasn’t seen, turning to Mavis and giving a thumbs up. He was certain this was the person he was looking for. There was a loud crash, the sound of wood splintering echoing through the night. It was not an uncommon noise in Wildermount, one created either by simple burglary or from buildings finally giving out under the weight of their additions. It was not unusual to wake up to find a doorway that had shifted or a beam that had given out, nothing a few extra ramshackle additions couldn’t solve.

Peeking back out into the street, Mike could see that the figures had vanished, the doorway to the butcher’s shop lying on the ground. Normally it would have been guarded, a group of Bloodstone foot soldiers watching over the funds. Of course, someone had carefully let slip to the right people that a guard raid was incoming, so the shop was free of both money and anyone to arrest. All that the masked intruder would find of value was the runic metal column that kept the shop’s backroom cold enough to store meat and removing that from the floor would be an almost impossible task.

“Ok, so definitely looks like they are a duellist. Unless zombies just follow them around,” Mike said.

“What’s the plan, Cap? Are we sure we can take on a duellist? We should have brought some backup.”

“The more guards you have in one place, the more obvious they become. It’s like some unwritten rule of the universe. No, I think if we go in quick, catch them by surprise, then we might have a chance.” Mike reached down the back of his trousers. He had tucked wooden club into the waistband, the weapon making itself uncomfortably known as he had sat in the beer garden. His usual sword would have given away something was up. Carrying weapons wasn’t illegal in Wildermount, though most people never bothered. It was a sure-fire way to get the attention of the guards, and the majority of citizens would be more a danger to themselves than they would anyone else. In the rougher parts of town, you might have gotten someone carrying a knife as the worst of it. It was part of why the influx of duellists was making the main office nervous. A deck with the power to level entire streets that could be hidden under a light cloak.

“Fair enough,” Mavis said. She reached into her pockets and produced a pair of brass knuckle-dusters, slipping them over her fingers.

Her choice of weapon made a lot of sense to Mike. Wyrmkin could be savage up close, their sharp horns giving them an inherent advantage. He had long pushed for more open recruitment of non-human races into the force, though it hadn’t made much effect. Having a musteling or two on his squads wouldn’t go amiss, their claws sharper than most swords.

“Those were probably a better idea than having a stick up my…never mind, you ready?”

“I suppose.”

“Right, let’s go say hello then, shall we?” Mike said.

***

The masked figure was not happy. They had entered the butcher’s shop and headed straight down into its large basement looking for the stash of coins that they expected to find. Word on the street was that the Bloodstones were using it as a place to hold their ill-gotten gains along with a big cache of skeeva, but it was starting to look like someone had warned them.

“You two not going to help at all?” said the voice behind the mask. The item was runically enchanted, adding a deep booming that disguised its owner. It hadn’t been cheap, but upsetting the operations of the various crime families had been impressively lucrative.

The zombies stood in the centre of the basement, groaning lightly to themselves. As summoned creatures, anything more than attacking something was beyond their limited skill sets. The magic that created them simply wasn’t intended to function for anything beyond fighting.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

There was a noise above, something moving in the shop itself. It was the tell-tale noise of boots pressing against floorboards. Someone was there. The masked person assumed it was more of the Bloodstone’s bottom rung, throw away minions who did all the real dirty work so the higher-ups could just ignore the horrid cost of their business. The person behind the mask was no innocent, after all, they had arrived at the butcher shop with the intent to rob it, but the kind of crimes the families were involved with were a whole other level.

“Guard that door,” the booming voice said, pointing to the stairs that led down into the basement. As their zombies shuffled into place, they considered their options.

The basement was large, much bigger than would be expected. It was also conspicuously empty. There was no hanging meats, no stacked pallets of food. No doubt the location had been chosen specifically for the open space; it was the ideal place to perform any number of nefarious tasks out of the way of prying eyes. The only visible entrance was the one from the shop above. If people were coming, then that route was out.

The rumble of footsteps above shook loose some dust from the far wall, sparking an idea in the mind of the masked figure. The butchers was located amongst a row of other stores, the buildings nestled close together. A basement was a difficult thing to build and often the first person to build one would take the opportunity to grab as much land as they could beneath their neighbours' houses until inevitably, they noticed and portioned it off. The walls between sections were notoriously thin.

“City Guard!” cried out a male voice from above. “Come out with your hands away from your deck!”

“You! Go upstairs and slow them down. You, come here.” A gloved hand pointed at the zombies as its bearer spoke. One began to trudge up the steps, whilst the other shambled towards the wall. “Attack this,” the duellist said pointing to a section of wall thick with green moss. They were hoping that the presence of the plants would have weakened the stone.

The zombie groaned as it raised its fists, bringing them down hard against the wall. As a summoned creature its strength was greater than it would seem, boosted by the skills and feats of its summoner. The wall moved, dust filling the basement as rotted mortar gave way. It would take a few more blows, but it would give. Its summoner hoped that there was an exit beyond. They had no intention of getting into an extended fight with the guards. Roughing up family goons was all well and good but hurting a guard would mean far more immediate trouble. They looked after their own better than any crime syndicate.

There was the sound of scuffling upstairs as the guards tussled with the zombie. The duellist controlling them had discovered they could set the monsters to attack non-lethally when they were summoned, provided their intent was clear. That meant that the fight happening above wouldn’t result in a death unless something went horribly wrong, but the guards wouldn’t know that. Formal duels were so straightforward, you could see the statistics of the enemy monsters there on the ground. Fighting real people was different, you had no idea how effective a monster would be until they actually started fighting, and even then, it could get cloudy.

“Oh gods! This thing reeks! This thing is mana, right? Why include that?” The male voice sounded annoyed. There was a loud thump that echoed down the stairs. “Blasted thing, go down!”

The zombie in the basement slammed the wall again, several bricks falling away. The masked figure began to pull at the hole, the old brickwork coming apart in their hands. They held up the lantern in their left hand to illuminate the room beyond. There was a staircase at the far side, the door hanging tantalisingly open.

From the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, the zombie had lost its battle with the guards. The masked figure had no intent to hang around and discuss the legalities of its actions. There was just enough of a gap to squeeze through into the next basement, so they put one leg through the hole.

“Keep them back,” the altered voice said to the zombie. They could summon more monsters, they knew that, but getting away was their top priority.

“Oh, and there’s the other one,” Mike said as he descended the steps, club in hand. He was panting, taking out the creature upstairs was more effort than he had expected. It had finally gone down thanks to a solid uppercut from Mavis. “Stop right there!”

“Um, no I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you,” said the duellist, their voice warbling from behind the mask.

“Nice trick. Sergeant, deal with this shambling corpse, I’ll nab our friend there.”

“Got it, Captain,” Mavis said, rushing towards the oncoming zombie with her fists raised.

The skull wearing figure popped through the hole, emerging in the other basement. They broke into a run, stomping up the stairs at the far side.

Mike followed, pushing his way haphazardly through the gap, several bricks coming loose as his stomach brushed against the wall. He surged across the room as fast as his legs would carry him, running up the stairs and finding himself in the kitchen of a home.

Standing by the pantry, was a musteling child, the small furry creature holding a pot of jam in its hands, the red jelly sticking to its claws. It lifted a hand and pointed to an open window.

“Thanks, kid,” Mike said, leaping through the window and into the street. He glanced around catching sight of his quarry running into the same alleyway he had been hiding in just minutes earlier. Mike smiled, it was a dead-end, the duellist wasn’t going anywhere.

He rounded the corner almost casually, pulling a length of rope from his trouser pocket. He couldn’t take the deck from the duellist, no one could without their consent, but without the use of their hands choosing cards to cast was impossible. Tying a duellists hands behind their backs was one of the first things new guards learnt to do.

“Got you now,” he said, spinning the rope around in a circle. The masked suspect was standing next to the wall at the end of the alleyway. It was twice their height and had large spikes at the top to prevent someone from climbing it.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

Though the mask hid the face of the duellist, Mike could tell they were smiling. It was something about how they held themselves. They reached up and tapped this gaudy shoulder pad, the metal swirling with colour for a moment. Then they leapt into the air, clearing the wall with ease, and landing on the other side.

“Oh, of course,” Mike said, his body slumping forward as he allowed the effort of his pursuit to hit him.

“You alright there, Captain?” Mavis said. She had emerged from the butcher’s shop, a bruise across her face. “I can’t seem to notice that uh, they got away.”

“That they did, Mavis. What happened there?” Mike pointed at purple splodge on Mavis’s face.

“Nothing major, took a slug to the cheek. I’ll be fine. What happened here?”

“Let’s just say that we could do with some of that runic junk on our side,” Mike said. “Let’s go, they’ll be long gone by now.”

Chapter Thirteen

Despite the impossible length of the corridor, it was otherwise unremarkable, a simple straight line towards the end with only a few open doorways that led presumably to other chambers. It was illuminated by the same hanging blue crystals, their gentle light washing over the smooth stone. Where there were carvings shadows stretched downwards, the light altered by their presence. The floor was covered in thousands of delicate white tiles. Unlike the ground floor the corridor had been spared from the ravages of time, its walls and floor undamaged. There was not even a cobweb to besmirch its perfection. It was, above all other things, incredibly suspicious.

“What do you reckon, Sark?” Gareth said. “There has to be, right?”

“I would assume so, yes. Though I must admit, I can’t see any of the usual signs. Of course, considering the quality of construction of this entire tower, it's possible that they could hide them far better than anything I’m used to. It might be the case that we’re being overcautious?”

“What are you two talking about?” Magda said. She was lost. Gareth had seemed eager to start walking down the corridor but had then suddenly changed his mind. Whilst she might have been trapped in a mortal body that was essentially human, sometimes the way Gareth acted could be so alien to her. It was the inconsistency that rankled her most. The things that were most likely to kill them they seemed the least concerned about. Statistically speaking dying in an ancient tower was far down the list below food poisoning or being trampled by a horse, and yet they ate with little concern to their food and crossed the streets in Wildermount with barely looking.

“Traps,” Gareth said. “Big long corridor in an ancient structure, that just screams giant rolling boulder or something like that.”

“A giant rolling boulder would make for a poor trap,” Sarkuran said, not entirely paying attention as his eyes scanned the walls. “Once it had been set off the once it would block anyone else from getting into whatever structure it was guarding. The point of a trap is to keep everyone else out whilst still allowing you access by knowing how to bypass them.”

“You know, I never really thought of that,” Gareth said. It was a good point. A lot of traps he had seen in movies or video games had an alarming propensity to damage or destroy the thing they were supposed to be protecting. A section of the floor falling away to reveal a spiked pit or a room filling with water weren’t exactly conducive to allowing access to the right people. It was the equivalent of protecting your bank account with a system that deleted all of your money if someone put in the wrong PIN.

“It’s why trap making is a fine art. It’s not enough to have spikes that rise from the floor, you must also have that one exact path that allows you to cross unimpeded, or a hidden pressure plate to switch it off. It was somewhat of the fashion in my day to include an elaborate riddle to act as a reminder but personally, I thought that was rather self-defeating. It assumed that whoever was attempting to get past your trap wasn’t intelligent enough to simply solve the riddle.”

“They probably aren’t to be fair.” Whilst card games were Gareth’s poison of choice, he had taken part in a handful of tabletop roleplaying sessions, normally after some badgering by the players of whatever card game he was favouring that week. There was a large cross over in the demographics between the two things, and Gareth had generally only agreed when he needed to borrow a card for a deck or get a lift to a tournament. The handful of games he had played had usually involved a puzzle of some kind, one where the players took hours working on it only to discover that the answer was simple.

“There’s an easier way of doing this,” Imelda said, the indecisiveness annoying her. She reached into her backpack and removed a slightly stale bread roll, part of the rations she had bought for the group. She tossed it down the corridor, the roll bouncing off the stone floor.

Blades sliced out from the walls, impossibly thin strips of metal that emerged from unseen slots in the stone. The bread roll exploded, the blades cutting back and forth quickly. They were the height of the corridor, solid walls of steel that alternated sides rather than the sweeping pendulous scythes that Gareth would have expected.

“Impressive,” Sarkuran said, admiring the craftsmanship. “The exit slots for the blades are so fine that when the blade is retracted, they are essentially invisible. Stunning work, really.”

“Oh yeah,” Magda said. “I’ll be sure to send my regards to whoever built it as I get sliced up.”

“So, how do we get past it then?” Imelda said. “You think you can do what you did the last time, Sarkuran? Back in the dwarven ruins. You worked it all out by watching the pattern and then jumped through.”

“I did. However, that was rather simpler than this. Did you notice how close the blades were spaced together and how quickly they moved? There were several slicing motions, not just the one, meaning that even if you were to somehow evade the first volley, an already impossible task, then the next one just half a second later would certainly end you.” Sarkuran shook his head. “No, this trap is of too exquisite a design to allow such a simple solution to it.”

“Pass me another roll, Imelda,” Gareth said, his hand outstretched. Imelda complied, placing another stale hunk of bread into his hand. Gareth stretched his arm back, holding it straight and taught. He lunged forward, flinging the bread as hard as he could through the air. It soared through the corridor, landing much further down than Imelda’s lightly tossed roll. The section of corridor further down lashed out with blades exactly like those immediately in front of the party.

“Looks like this entire corridor is like that,” Imelda said, sliding her bag back onto her back. “This entire long, long, long, corridor.”

“I think I have an idea though,” Gareth said. “The trap didn’t trigger until the roll hit the ground, which means that it has to be the floor that’s setting it off, right?”

“That would be the most logical explanation, yes,” Sarkuran said. “It’s a pity none of us can fly, and disarming a trap is beyond the capabilities of our summoned creatures.”

“We might not be able to fly, but we can do the next best thing.” Gareth pointed directly above himself towards one of the crystals hanging on long chains from the ceiling. They were spaced regularly down the entire length of the corridor. “If someone climbed up onto that I think they could maybe swing from crystal to crystal if they built up enough momentum.”

“Ah, yes, I see what you mean. We would have to be careful, there’s no guarantee that the mounting holding the chain to the ceiling is stable after all this time.”

“I was thinking we would need to send one person, the lightest one. Hopefully, there’s a switch to turn it off somewhere along the way. You know, considering what you said about needing to be able to turn them off, why have just a single switch at the far end?”

“Crafting a runic item to remotely trigger a switch is one of the first things that a runecrafter learns. It’s one of the simpler runes to get right. My forces even used them to fire our siege weaponry or to control the cell doors to the dungeons,” Sarkuran said.

“Lightest person?” The realisation of what Gareth was suggesting was dawning on Magda.

“Oh, so like a kind of remote magical lock,” Gareth said. “That’s interesting, presumably there’s a different one for each door otherwise you could get some kind of master control item and-”

“Hey! Wait a minute. You want me to swing across these?” Magda was holding one hand to her chest, her face twisted with disdain. “What if I fall? I’m just going to get immediately sliced into a thousand pieces.”

“Probably more,” Sarkuran said unhelpfully.

“I mean, we need to turn these off if we want to continue exploring the tower, and I’m assuming whatever we need to do to turn on the rune to access the next floor on that lift back there is down at the end as well. You’ve got the best chance of making it down there.” Gareth shrugged as he spoke. To him, it seemed straightforward.

“Oh, just in case one of these crystals falls from the ceiling? That’s not exactly reassuring. We could just…not do it? Head back out into the jungle and back onto that platform. The quest did say that exploring this place was optional.” Magda was silently terrified. She had seen the lives of untold numbers of souls, their joy and anguish, their deaths both peaceful and agonising. The number of people who had passed over because of an ill-conceived attempt at climbing, jumping, or swinging from one object to the next was alarmingly high. Magda feared what would happen if her body perished. For the others it was simple, she knew exactly what awaited them in the afterlife, but they were mortals, souls sealed inside physical bodies. Even Sarkuran, long-lived as he was had been a regular person originally. Magda thought there were two outcomes that were likely. The first was that she would find herself back in the godly realms, her metaphorical tail tucked between her legs, whilst the second was instant oblivion. It was that second possibility that scared her so much.

“I mean we could, but you don’t really mean that,” Gareth said. “Somehow this place, it’s linked to you. Don’t you want to find out what exactly is going on here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Magda said. She knew Gareth was right. This was her best shot so far at finding out what exactly seeing her face everywhere meant.

“Then you’re going to have to swing your way on down there.” Gareth pointed to the far end of the corridor. It somehow felt like the supernaturally long floor had grown longer. “That’s one more step closer to some answers, hopefully.”

“You’ll do fine,” Imelda said, putting an arm around Magda. “I would do it, but I’m actually a lot heavier than I look. The downside to having these.” She ran a finger up the scales on the side of her neck then tapped her horns.

“Fine. OK, I’ll do it. You lot are going to have to help me up there though, I uh, am too height-challenged to make it up otherwise.”

The others gather around Magda as she removed her cloak, crouching and offering their hands with palms upturned. Magda stepped onto them, Gareth and Sarkuran looking away as they stood up, trying desperately not to look up Magda’s skirt and draw her divine wrath.

“A little bit higher,” Magda said, her fingers trying to grasp the chain around the crystal directly above her. “It’s just out of reach.”

“Nothing new there,” Gareth said, unable to resist the jab at Magda’s height.

“I could easily change my mind about this.”

Strain fell across the faces of the party as they reached up as high as they could, their hands forming a makeshift platform.

“Got it, hang on,” Magda said, grunting as she pulled. She clambered up onto the crystal itself, its jagged sides allowing her boots to find purchase. “Ok, so, what now?” Magda said. The distance between the crystal and the ceiling was enough for her to stand fully.

“Start swinging from side to side,” Gareth said. “You should be able to get close enough to the next crystal to grab the chain. It should be easy.”

“Oh? Easy is it? If I slip and fall, I get sliced up into a million pieces. Doesn’t sound so easy from up here.”

Magda began to move, shifting her body from side to side experimentally as she tried to move the crystal. It began to swing, slowly at first, but getting faster with each repetition. Magda began to push with her legs, adding what extra momentum she could with each swing. The next crystal was getting closer with every attempt and she held out her hand ready to grasp its chain. The light in the corridor shifted about, shadows dancing over the walls as the light source moved.

There was a clink as crystal met crystal, Magda’s fingers gripping the chain. She grimaced as the backswing of the one she was riding on was stopped by her arm, the force tugging at her shoulder. She moved across to the next crystal, holding tight to the chain as she found her footing.

“Ok, that’s one!” Imelda said, trying to be as upbeat as possible. “Just uh, lots more to go. But one is a start.”

“I know you think you’re helping, but I’m trying desperately to concentrate here. I’d really rather not fall!” Magda swallowed nervously as she began the process of swinging her crystal perch.

Reaching out, Magda tried to grasp the chain of the third crystal in her long journey across the corridor. Her hands wrapped around the chain, and she placed a foot against a sloped side of the glowing crystal.

She slipped, her boot sliding off the smooth crystal.

“Magda!” Gareth said as the goddess fell.

Her hand gripped the chain tightly, her body hanging against the crystal. She had managed to hold onto the chain with one hand, her fingers turning red as they strained against her weight.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea!” Magda shouted back as she tried to hold on.

“Are you ok?” Imelda said, eyeing up the crystal above her. She was planning on swinging her way towards her friend, not even considering the risk to herself.

Magda didn’t reply. She couldn’t, her focus was spent elsewhere. Magda had reached up with her free hand, the one gripping the chain straining as she pulled the weight of her body as far up the crystal as she could. Her fingers tried to clutch the bottom of the chain, another grunt escaping her lips as she used the last of her strength to lift herself. She clasped her other hand around the chain, pulling herself up and sitting on the crystal, her legs wrapped around the chain to get as much purchase as she could.

“I…I am never doing this again,” Magda said, panting. “Let me catch my breath a moment.”

“Come back,” Imelda said. “If you can. This is too dangerous.”

“No. No, I’ve started now, and I’m going to do it. Gareth is right, I need to know about this place, why there are statues of me everywhere. If the answers are somewhere in this tower, then I have to find them.”

“Just…be careful, alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Careful is my middle name.”

“You don’t even have a last name,” Gareth said. “And where did you even hear that saying?”

“Picked it up in the bar back at the Troll and Bridge. I’ve heard Jack say his middle name is danger once or twice.”

Gareth shook his head. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The bandit had somehow worked his way into being Gareth’s duelling rival and no doubt was spending his time undertaking as many quests as he could to grow stronger.

“I wouldn’t do anything Jack does, as a rule. Just, take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”

***

A chunk of bread hit the ground, settling on the stone floor. No dancing blades whipped out of the walls to destroy it; no trap trigged by its presence. Magda still wasn’t sure, so reached inside her bag and produced something heavier, choosing an apple as her next potential victim. It split as it hit the ground but otherwise remained undamaged by any potential traps.

Deciding that the ground below her was safe, Magda lowered herself down the crystal ready to drop. It had taken longer than she had expected to make her way towards the end of the corridor. The same magic that was warping space inside the tower was also distorting perception. Having to swing between the lighting crystals the entire way wasn’t the quickest method of travel, but it had still taken nearly an hour, much longer than expected. A few faint echoed cries had been exchanged back and forth to ensure that she hadn’t fallen.

Magda closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then let go of the chain.

She hit the ground, harder than she expected, falling forward, and bashing her right elbow against the stone. It hurt, but it at least told her that she was still alive, no deadly blades slicing her to ribbons. Magda opened her eyes and stood up, brushing remnants of crushed apple off her dress.

The corridor ended before a massive altar, upon which a great metal disc had been mounted. Magda recognised that the symbols as Eternal, but their meaning was lost on her. It was frustrating, to know that she had once understood it clearly, her mind as well as her body warped by her arrogant brethren. It felt like an unforgivable intrusion.

The rune in the centre of the disc was glowing, blue light shimmering from within it. With no other clue as to what to do, Magda put her hand to it.

Nothing happened, or at least, nothing that Magda was aware of. The section of disc that hosted the rune had moved slightly, in just the same manner as the one on the floating platform, but no sign came floating down from the heavens to declare the traps disarmed.

“Ok, what now, Mags?” she said to herself. Magda sneered for a moment, realising she had used Gareth’s nickname for herself, one that she hated. Spending time with mortals was starting to get to her.

Bending down, she picked up the tattered remnants of apple. She tossed it forward as far as she could and was pleased to see that no blades sprang from the walls. Just to be certain she removed a second whole apple from her bag and rolled it slowly across the ground. It came to a stop a metre or so before her, and Magda felt confident enough to walk slowly forward, stopping to pick up the apple. This close, the slits in the walls where the blades retracted were barely visible, paper-thin lines streaking across the stone.

“Think about this before you do anything,” Magda said, continuing her monologue. “Just because this set of blades is turned off, doesn’t mean that the rest of them are. Think like Sarkuran would, but don’t let him hear you say that.”

Magda crouched again, grabbing the apple and rolling it further down the corridor. It would take time but moving in this way at least allowed her to ensure that where she was stepping was safe before walking onwards.

She glanced sideways as she passed one of the open doorways. Magda had gotten a good look at most of them as she had made her slow progression across the light fixtures. They had been empty, rooms that had long since lost their original purpose. She assumed that perhaps they had been for whoever had lived in the tower, the distended corridor providing plenty of accommodation.

This room had gotten her attention, a faint blue light shimmering from within. Magda knew that ideally, she should regroup with her friends before exploring any of the side rooms, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. She rolled her apple through the doorway just in case the chambers were trapped in the same manner as the corridor.

A new possibility for the rooms floated to the top of her mind. Perhaps their status as accommodation wasn’t entirely a voluntary one. The rooms had no doors, and the presence of the blades in the hallway would remove any need for them. The promise of instant death for passing beyond the doorway would be better than any bars for keeping prisoners in line.

The apple remained intact as it passed through the doorway, though its skill was starting to look a little bruised. Confident it was safe, Magda stepped inside, allowing herself the joy of exploration. Then others would likely complain, but she had put in all of the effort to open up the floor for investigation, so a small peek was her prize.

The room was empty aside from the source of the glow. At the far side of the room, a section of the wall had been hollowed out to act as a shelf, small illumination crystal-studded along the inside of it. The glowing was coming from a familiar sight, slivers of pure mana that the miners back in Wildermount were desperately searching for.

“Booster crystals?” Magda said, picking up the delicate objects. There was three of them, light emanating from within each. If broken her deck box would absorb the energy inside, transmuting it into brand new cards for her to use. Magda resisted the temptation to crack them open now and marvel at the possibilities. She wasn’t too proud to admit that Gareth had shown more of a natural knack for understanding the best ways to build decks and to manipulate cards to his advantage. It would be better if he was to examine what Magda had found. Hopefully, the contents would go some way to bulking out the parties decks ready for the tournament, assuming they made it back to Wildermount in one piece.

***

Gareth stared at the apple as it came to a stop at his feet. He had watched with curiosity as Magda had approached, the battered fruit rolled in front of her every step. He understood what she was doing. Considering the ferocity of the traps in the corridor ensuring that they truly had been disabled was a wise move.

“Not sure this is how you go about making apple pie,” Gareth said, putting a foot on the fruit to stop its rolling.

“Better than the alternative,” Magda said with a shrug. The return journey had been much quicker, even with her makeshift scout. She suspected that the magic of the corridor had played a part, the distance on the walk back lessened somehow. “I pushed a big button at the end, but I don’t know if that did anything.”

“Actually, a second rune lit up on that platform not long ago.” Gareth gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “So, it looks like we can go up to the next floor.”

“Are you alright? It must have hurt hanging like you did,” Imelda said as she stepped forward. She pulled up Magda’s sleeves and examined her arms. “Doesn’t look like there’s any bruising.”

“I think I’m fine,” Magda said. “It was just a bit scary, that’s all. I might be sore later.”

“We’ve got some unguent that might help, we can apply it later if needed.”

Gareth had to admit that Imelda’s spending spree before they had left was proving its worth, even if he still wasn’t sure everything she had purchased was strictly necessary.

“We should check the rest of this floor, in case the chambers have something of interest in them,” Sarkuran said already walking towards the nearest doorway.

“Ah, well, actually I did find something in one of them. I couldn’t resist taking a look,” Magda said, drawing disapproving looks from her comrades. “When I passed them most seemed empty, but these caught my eye. You’re going to like this.”

She reached into her pocket, producing the three booster crystals she had found.

Gareth smiled as he saw the familiar blue glow. “Yeah, you’re right, I do like this. Now we better just hope we get lucky with what’s in them.”

Chapter Fourteen

Gareth held the blue crystals in his hand, considering if he should open them now or wait until they were safely back in Wildermount. There didn’t seem to be anything dangerous on the floor they were on, not now the traps had been disabled, and the cards inside could be incredibly useful if the party was to come across more monsters. Of course, they could also be useless. That was the thrill of opening boosters, it was a gamble every time, not much different than a scratch-off lottery ticket, but Gareth would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of it.

Putting two of the crystals into his trouser pocket, he gripped the third in both hands and snapped it in two. Light flowed out of it, rushing into his deck box as the enchanted device absorbed the pure mana being released from the crystal.

Rampaging Stegadon

Monster – Ancient

Mana Cost: 5

Attack rating: 200 Defence rating: 300 Hit points: 3

Effect: Breakthrough - When this monster attacks and destroys another monster, it may immediately attack the enemy duellist directly.

“Like an avalanche, but angrier.”

Angel of the Legion

Monster - Angel

Mana Cost: 3

Attack rating: 200 Defence rating: 200 Hit points: 1

Effect: Flying - Can attack an enemy duellist directly if no other monsters with flying are in play

“The hosts of heaven are without number.”

Silvered Shield

Relic - Artefact

Mana Cost: 3

Grants one target monster you control Barrier (This monster cannot be targeted by spells and traps.

“Perfectly mirrored to reflect both light and mana equally.”

Return from Beyond

Spell

Mana Cost: 4

Choose one monster in your discard pile and summon it, without paying mana or any additional costs.

“Rise from your grave!”

Gareth deflated a little as he realised there were no goblins within the offering. Considering the sheer variety of different affinities he had seen it should have been no surprise to him. At least spells didn’t have an affinity, so could be slotted into any deck, and the others didn’t have the same self-imposed goblins only restriction that Gareth’s choice of feats had placed upon him.

Opening the cards list in his menu, Gareth selected new of the new acquisitions, the cards appearing in his hand.

“One angel for you, Magda. Looks like a pretty generic flying monster, but that’s useful to have. Hits harder than a cherub anyway, and flying is always good, even if it's just to block enemy flying monsters.” Gareth passed the card over to Magda’s eagerly awaiting hands. “And then I think this one is ideal for you, Sark.”

Sarkuran took the card from Gareth and examined it for a moment. “Astutely chosen. It allows me to bypass the onerous devour costs of my monsters and doesn’t consume my mana long term. Provided one of my monsters has died, of course. Though that is a likely thing to happen.” The card vanished in a flicker of light as Sarkuran added it to his collection. “What else did we acquire?”

“A relic that gives barrier, and an ancient that can hit a duellist if it kills a monster. Both good, but neither matches out affinities.”

“I’ll take the relic,” Imelda said, holding out her hand. “I know it’s not my affinity so I’ll have to pay full price but being able to put that on my hidden blade would be good.”

Gareth handed the card over slowly. “You can take it, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a good idea. It’s three mana for the relic, not exactly cheap, and that Hidden Blade card is legendary, you only get one. That and its biggest weakness is its low stats more than anything.”

“Not a problem if I can get the hideaway going.”

“And how much mana is that?”

“Two,” Imelda said. “With the affinity discount.

“And the hidden blade costs you three, right? That’s eight mana and three cards you would need to get the combo set up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be negative, at least the hideaway and the shield can help out your other cards.”

Imelda nodded, she understood what Gareth was saying. It was a little disheartening to have her idea shot down, but right now they were in the heart of a building that was full of monsters and traps. It wasn’t a good idea to be trying out any tactics that seemed dubious when losing could easily kill you. She took added the card to her collection anyway but chose not to add it to her deck.

“What about the other ones?” Magda said, still examining the card in her hand. She was beaming ear to ear, thrilled to have received something new. “What’s in those?”

“I haven’t opened them yet, give me a chance!” Gareth rolled his eyes, then pulled another crystal from his pocket. He cracked it open, the mana rushing out from within.

Angel of the Legion

Monster - Angel

Mana Cost: 3

Attack rating: 200 Defence rating: 200 Hit points: 1

Effect: Flying - Can attack an enemy duellist directly if no other monsters with flying are in play

“The hosts of heaven are without number.”

Goblin Field Doctor

Monster – Goblin

Mana Cost: 3

Attack rating: 100 Defence rating:100 Hit points: 1

Effect: Heal - When you summon this monster, restore one hit point to a monster you control.

“More fatalities than cured patients, but at least he tries.”

Chain Lightning

Spell

Mana Cost: 1

Deal one damage to any number of target monsters. You must pay one additional mana to cast this spell for each monster chosen as a target.

“A useful trick, even if the smell of burnt hair is a steep price to pay.” -Archmage Kaladear

Undo

Trap

Mana Cost: 2

The next time an opponent summons a monster, return that monster to their hand.

“We'll save that one for later, shall we?”

Two cards immediately jumped out at Gareth. Chain Lightning was the first, a direct damage spell that could scale against a large volume of enemies seemed extremely strong. Gareth thought of his tactics, throwing lots of small goblins at his opponents, most of which only had a single hit point. With enough mana, the spell could wipe out his entire force.

Undo was the second card that had caught his eye. He had been evangelising the benefits of card advantage to his friends constantly, something that had annoyed them no end during nights at the Troll and Bridge. Strictly speak undo was negative card advantage, you were spending a card only to delay the opponent, they lost nothing but time.

Gareth knew that time could be enough, provided you were prepared to take advantage of it. A common tactic in some card games was what people called tempo decks. Generally, most games had a flow to them, you played a card, your opponent played a card, often ramping up to progressively more powerful cards as the game went on. Often, provided there was a critical mass of cards to make it viable, decks could be built that disrupted this flow, delaying the opponents plays long enough for the inevitably small units the tempo player had available to finish the job. It was a difficult strategy to play well, if you allowed your opponent to get a foothold in the game then they inevitably would crush you beneath the weight of card advantage.

The exact mechanics of how duelling worked added some interesting wrinkles. There was no slow ramping of resources, duellists had access to however much mana their skills allowed, fully free to cast their most powerful card immediately if they wished. Of course, the nature of formal duelling meant that doing so gave their opponent a chance to respond and if they could answer that threat for less mana than it cost to summon it, they would be more easily be able to establish a presence on the battlefield. All it took was three hits on the enemy duellist to ensure victory, it didn’t matter how strong they were. Using cards like Undo to keep powerful units off the field, even temporarily, could be a potent plan, and that wasn’t even including all the shenanigans Gareth could think of when it came to messing with action order. He had already learned that getting the last action of a turn, when you knew that you would get the first action on the next, was an incredibly powerful play.

“Ok, so, another copy of that same angel for Magda. Can’t really complain about that. Then we’ve got a goblin for me. I could have bought this one in the market, kind of glad I didn’t.  We’ve also got a spell that does damage to multiple monsters, for more mana, and a trap that delays an opponent’s monster.”

“That last one doesn’t seem useful for our current predicament. Rather more of a formal duelling spell that one. I think perhaps it would be best you hang onto the damaging spell?” Sarkuran said. Of the party, he was the closest to Gareth in terms of skill, perhaps better when it came to playing his specific style. “Your deck already has several. Specialisation is best, in my experience.”

“Well, I do agree, but getting two cards out of a crystal felt a little greedy.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be a team?” Magda’s eyes shifted to Sarkuran. “Well, most of us.”

“I resent that accusation,” Sarkuran said, a hand pressing to his chest in feigned insult. “I’ve been nothing but cooperative. If anything, constantly bringing up your prejudices threatens to destabilise our little group more than anything I’ve done. I thought we were getting on remarkably well, considering our very different backgrounds. They do say that adversity forms bonds I suppose.”

“Anyway,” Magda said, ignoring Sarkuran. “If your deck gets better, it helps all of us, right? Probably sabotaging my own tournament hopes by saying that, but it's true. If a card is better served in your deck, then that’s just how it is. We’ve still got one booster to go! You know, we should buy boosters, rather than individual cards.”

“Nah,” Gareth said, pulling the angel out from within his card list and passing it over. “Back on Earth, it was always cheaper to just buy the cards you needed rather than gamble on boosters. I have to imagine that’s true here, probably more so considering just how many different cards there are. It’s not like things are organised into sets or anything like that.”

A thought occurred to Gareth, his own words triggering a realisation in his mind. The first booster crystal he had ever opened had contained a Sewerslime card, a monster he had defeated to obtain the crystal. An ancient had come from the newest batch, and he had to wonder if where the crystals were made a difference to what cards were possible from them if perhaps monsters from the local area were slightly more likely to appear.

“You have boosters on your world?” Imelda said, slightly confused as to how causally Gareth had tossed out that information. “I thought you had no magic at all.”

“Oh, not boosters like these.” Gareth pulled the last crystal out from his pocket to make a point. “Our card games use paper cards, and they come wrapped in foil. The cards inside the wrapper are random.”

Imelda suddenly felt foolish. “Oh right, of course. That makes more sense.”

Gareth held the last booster crystal in his hands. He examined it for a moment, taking in the beauty of the energy gleaming within. Booster crystals were more common than their bigger deck counterparts, being found not only beneath the ground but anywhere there was sufficient mana to form them over time. He cracked it open, releasing the dancing energy within.

Goblin Ancientrider

Monster - Goblin

Mana Cost: 4

Attack rating: 150 Defence rating: 150 Hit points: 1

Effect: Mounted - When this monster is summoned place a mounted token on it. Monsters with mounted tokens on them get one hundred additional attack and defence rating. When a monster with a mounted token would take damage, instead remove the mounted token.

“Goblins can find a way to survive anywhere and form the most unlikely of alliances along the way.”

Tropical Storm

Spell

Mana Cost: 5

Deal three damage to all monsters with flying.

“There is no respite above the treeline.”

Looming Titan

Monster - Ancient

Mana Cost: 18

Attack rating: 1500 Defence rating: 1500 Hit points: 18

Effect: Crush - This monster may attack all enemy monsters simultaneously. Breakthrough - When this monster attacks and destroys another monster, it may immediately attack the enemy duellist directly. Legendary - Limit one per deck.

“If you can see its shadow, you're already dead.”

Dispel Magic

Spell

Mana Cost: 3

Discard one trap from play.

“Tsk, Tsk. Very irresponsible leaving magic lying around everywhere.”

Gareth just stared at the Looming Titan for a moment. It was almost impossible to believe. If he was understanding the effects correctly, then the monster could attack every enemy monster at the same time, and then for each one it destroyed make an additional attack directly on the enemy duellist. With an attack rating of an impressive fifteen-hundred, it seemed likely the ancient could destroy anything it wanted to, and if the opposing duellist had three monsters it could just win the duel instantly there and then. Eighteen mana was a steep price to pay for the privilege, and the card had no kind of inbuilt protection, but it was still an intriguing look into what exactly was possible.

It also lent strength to the theory building in Gareth’s mind. That would mean two out of three booster crystals had contained an ancient. It seemed unlikely that was a coincidence, especially considering the Goblin Ancientrider’s existence as well. The place where booster crystals were found had to be altering their contents somehow. It raised an interesting point. If most of the crystals in Wildermount had come from a handful of mines, then the variety of monsters circulating through the economy had to be limited. It was entirely possible no one had seen an ancient card before.

“Ok so, we’ve got a frankly absurd ancient card that none of us can cast. Eighteen mana but it will probably kill whatever you want,” Gareth said, snatching the cards physical form from his menu so he could show it off. “I’m thinking we might have hit the jackpot here though when it comes to selling or trading. Something this powerful has to be worth money.”

“We might get some interest just based on the fact it’s a weird type no one has seen,” Imelda said, peering at the text on the card. “Well, I haven’t seen it anyway.”

“Ok, well, alongside that we have a card that deals a bunch of damage to every flying monster. Kind of useful, but only if you know there’s going to be a bunch of flyers ahead of time. No good for Imelda or Magda, the spell hits everything, friend or foe and they both use flying things. And I don’t really want this effect gumming up my deck. I’m assuming the same is true for you, Imelda?”

The wyrmkin just nodded in response.

“Good,” Gareth said. “We can hold onto that one. Probably sell that too. We’ve also got a spell that removes a trap, but that kind of has the same issue, traps don’t seem all that common overall. Probably really good in one matchup and that’s it. That stays in the to sell pile as well, I think. Last card we got was another goblin. One with a weird effect I’ve not seen before.” He flashed the card to the others, aware that he was taking the lion’s share of them. Gareth didn’t want the others to think he was trying to mislead them.

“Mounted?” Magda said, peering in closer. “Seems a bit weird, it’s like having another hit point, but you get smaller when you lose it? Not sure it’s worth bothering with.”

“No, I think that it’s better than it looks. It says you lose the token when it takes damage, not how much damage.”

“I get what Gareth is saying,” Sarkuran said. He had wandered over to the nearest doorway and was peering inside. It was disappointingly empty of any more crystals. “It means if you were to throw say, Magda’s smite at the creature it would absorb all of the spell at the cost of this mounted status. Essentially getting weaker once damaged is the price you’re paying for having at least two hit points, but possibly far more.”

“Yeah exactly.” The card was an easy addition to his deck, along with the Goblin Field Doctor. There was an irony that the doctor couldn’t heal the ancientrider once it had lost its token, it not being a real hit point. Either way, it was three more cards—including Chain Lightning— towards the forty he needed. Gareth let out a sigh, he was only at twenty cards, just barely halfway.

“We should check the rest of these chambers,” Sarkuran said, stepping away from the doorway of the room he had been inspecting and walking towards another. “Just in case. We wouldn’t want to miss anything else of value.”

“Probably a good idea,” Gareth said in agreement. “Then we can worry about heading to the next floor. Who knows what’s up there?”

***

Gareth went through the gap headfirst as the platform raised itself, sent floating upwards with a press of a second newly lit rune. It took Gareth a moment for his eyes to take in the shape of the room he was in, its impossibility fighting against his sense.

The chamber was a dome, or at least, it looked like one until you reached the peak, at which point it suddenly shifted outwards to form an hourglass shape. It was almost like two domed buildings had been placed with the peaks of their domes touching. The thing that was really hurting his eyes was the fact that the floor also curved, the tiling moving up the walls like the room was physically bending upwards into its odd shape.

The bizarreness of the place was capped off with the cluster of odd creatures patrolling the dome. They were things of vine and stone, the mixed materials holding themselves in a vaguely humanoid shape. They were carrying spears of shaped wood and shields of granite shards bound tightly. They were strolling up the dome as if gravity meant nothing, traversing one impossible room to the next.

“Great. More elementals.” Gareth’s fingers settled on the lid of his deck box. “Looks like we’re going to have to…”

Gareth glanced around himself. He was alone on the platform. That was impossible, his friends had been right next to him as he had passed through the gap in the floor. They couldn’t have vanished in what had to be the blink of an eye.

“This stupid tower, I swear to god…”

The elementals had noticed him, stopping their patrols and turning to face Gareth with their featureless visages. They lowered their spears and began to march down the curving surfaces of the room. The structures impossible shape meant that there was nowhere to hide.

All Gareth could do was fight.

“Fine, come on then, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said as cards flew from his deck box.

***

Magda slid into the chamber headfirst, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to what she was seeing. The entire room seemed to be twisted, spiralling around on itself in a non-Euclidean nightmare of bent sightlines. She sighed; it was obvious that the magic of the tower extended far beyond simply making rooms bigger.

She wondered what the point of it all was. The elongated corridor below at least had a discernible purpose of some kind, providing a bevvy of rooms despite its deadly throughway. Magda couldn’t imagine what this space could be used for, it wasn’t like mortal minds would be able to handle its casual disregard for the rules of reality for very long.

Her eyes caught something moving amongst the impossible bends of the room. Creatures of plant and stone, elementals heading towards her with their wooden spears at the ready. It hadn’t escaped Magda’s notice that she was alone in the room aside from the oncoming monsters, and she assumed that the magic of it had split the party somehow.

“Typical. If this place really does have anything to do with me there are some serious words, I need to have with whoever built it. It’s not exactly built for worship if it’s a temple…”

Cards formed around Magda’s hand as she drew her cards. The elementals were getting closer, but she had no intent on letting them get near enough to strike at her. Magda had five mana to spend and had drawn both copies of her newest angel. It was an improvement in statistics over her cherubs, so she summoned both.

Winged warriors formed before her, one male and one female, each wearing flowing white robes and holding gleaming swords and shields. They floated before Magda, holding their shields ready to defend her.

“Attack. Keep those things back,” Magda said, the angels swooping off as they understood her command. There were four of the elementals coming at her, and Magda fancied her odds. “I hope the others are ok.”

***

Gareth cackled to himself. He couldn’t help it. There had been four of the elemental creatures approaching him, moving in lockstep as they shifted into a kind of shield wall formation. He had drawn one of his newest cards, and the laugh had come as he considered the option now available to him. There were four enemies, and he had five mana to spend. It was almost too perfect.

“Real sorry about this,” Gareth said, his apology entirely fake. “But this is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

He selected the card, light swirling around his hand as a kind of glowing haze. He pointed his hand at each of the elementals in turn, a tiny mote of light breaking away and floating next to his targets. With the enemy chosen, the mana drained from the orbs above his right hand, a crackle forming in the air before him.

Lightning arced out, striking the elemental on the leftmost side of the line, and then flowing into the monster next to it. The energy continued its path, the plant matter that made up the creatures burning as electricity flowed into it. One by one they exploded into green light that quickly vanished. Like the monsters on the bottom level, they were summoned monsters, creatures brought into being through the manipulation of mana.

Grove Watcher defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Grove Watcher defeated. 78 experience points gained.

Grove Watcher defeated. 78 experience points gained.

The immediate threat defeated thanks to his newly acquired Chain Lightning; Gareth turned his attention to the room itself. The creatures had come strolling down the sides as if they didn’t care about the laws of physics. Gareth didn’t know why he was surprised, everything magical seemed to break the rules of reality as he understood them. In a way, they weren’t, if Magda was right then magic permeated every reality, even Earth in minuscule amounts. Magic, like physics, was another set of rules to the universe, just ones that Gareth didn’t understand. That didn’t mean they weren’t any more fundamental.

He walked towards what his mind thought of as the wall but was in fact just the floor curving upwards. Fighting back his fear of tumbling backwards, he strode onwards, the room seeming to shift around him as he stuck to the wall, his perception quickly adjusting to the change. He kept walking, the world being around him as he headed towards the only logical destination. Going back down a floor was counterintuitive, Gareth had to assume his friends, wherever they were, would be attempting to get to the next floor. He was assuming that there had to be another switch to activate the lift somewhere in the odd hourglass-shaped room.

“I swear whoever designed this place has some serious issues.”

Chapter Fifteen

It was hard for Gareth to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The bizarre room he was standing in wasn’t helping, but it was something else, something fundamental that wasn’t sitting right with him. The entire tower didn’t make sense. It appeared to be—to Gareth at least—the nexus of a transportation system. He had certainly been to some airports that were labyrinthine mazes, endless webs of gates and shopping areas connected by moving walkways, but the tower was something different. An airport’s layout was determined by constantly expanding it over time, more and more complexity added that was designed to serve the airport as a business, rather than make things convenient for its customers. Everything about the tower felt deliberate, each floor a different challenge from the last. Gareth was being tested, he could tell, but he had no idea for what and why.

He hated the idea. Since learning the truth of the afterlife from Magda he had rankled at the nature of reality. Souls were nothing more than a tool for the gods, weapons in their endless war with some unknown entity. Being weighed and measured against some impossible to know requirements wasn’t fair and the tower felt no different. Millenia ago, when this place had been built, someone had decided that those entering would be tested, to thrust upon visitors a burden of expectation. Gareth had no intention of letting yet another unseen force dictating his fate.

He was approaching the tip of the dome now, though with space shifting around him it was now nearer to his feet, a pit in the ground that led to the other half of the room. He was assuming that the changing gravity would continue as he stepped through, though he could feel his stomach churning slightly at the thought of falling through. His instincts were fighting against his consciousness and it made Gareth feel slightly sick.

“Ok, Gareth, you know you can just walk right through this. You watched those elementals do it. Of course, they are magical creatures, so…” He shook his head, doubting himself wasn’t going to help. “No, just need to get this over with.”

He took a step, and the world twisted, swinging around him rapidly as he put another foot down. Gareth had passed through the gap with no issue, aside from slight disorientation.

His eyes glanced around, taking in the chamber. It was different from the first, drastically so. From the other side of the hole it had looked like an exact copy but stepping through Gareth had found himself in a square-shaped room with a door at the far end. He sighed. Expecting this floor of the tower to make sense was foolish, every doorway, entrance and gap probably led to another impossible shaped room. This one was more standard, aside from the impossibility of its existence.

Gareth decided to experiment. He stepped back through the hole in the ground and remerged back into the domed room. He peered through the gap he had just travelled through, and sure enough, the room beyond looked like a mirror of the one he was standing in. Traversing through the hole a third time returned him to the cuboid room.

“Right, so I can’t even trust my senses in here. Fantastic,” Gareth said. He suspected that the shifting of reality around him was probably designed to drive him mad and that talking to himself wasn’t helping the matter. “That’s got to be the way to the next floor,” he said pointing to the hole in the ceiling above him. It lined up with the one he had stepped through, creating a column of space just wide enough for the floating platform to travel through. If the floor below was any indication, then there was some kind of button Gareth would need to press before he could move on.

He considered trying to walk up the wall for a moment, before deciding against it. There was a single doorway leading out of the room, so it was obvious where the designers of the space had intended him to go. Gareth had a sneaking feeling that the shifting gravity wouldn’t apply in the otherwise normal-seeming chamber.

The door was a heavy-looking stone thing, though there were hinges on one side crafted from the same golden metal as the bridge he had crossed in what seemed like forever ago. A smile crept across his face. There was no way the spiders waiting for his return would know that he was half a world away, and he had to admit that travelling such vast distances in the blink of an eye was very cool.

There was a divot carved into the stone door that was clearly intended to be a handle, so Gareth grabbed it and pulled. The door slid open with remarkable ease; the weight of the stone handled deftly by the hinges. Beyond the doorway appeared to be a short corridor, but Gareth had already learned to expect something different. The entire floor was designed to confuse the mind.

His expectations were met as he stepped through the door. Rather than finding himself in the corridor, he was at the top of a set of stairs, the stone steps floating amongst a seemingly unending black void. They twisted about on themselves, bending in impossible ways as they spiralled off into the darkness.

“Oh, come on. Now I’ve got to walk through one of those weird painting…things?” he said, art history not one of Gareth’s strong suits. “Ok, so what now?” Gareth knew the answer, he had little choice but to follow the staircase to its destination, though the looping path of stone carried on far past where he could see. For a moment he was worried that he might simply never find the end, the stairs carrying on forever.

“No. Screw this. I’m not going to just do whatever this place wants me to do.” Gareth turned and stepped back into the other room. “There’s got to be a way forward without all this messing around with stupid messed up nonsense.”

Dropping his backpack on the ground, Gareth reached inside and began to pull out the supplies that Imelda had given him. He removed a long length of rope, one bought in anticipation of having to explore underground. He tied one end around his waist, then looped the other around on the hinges on the door, the rope just barely fitting between the gap. Gareth gave it a tug to ensure it was secure.

Whilst the staircase in the room beyond bent around at impossible angles, Gareth suspected that ultimately it went to the bottom. He was gambling on the actual distance being not as far as it seemed. Sliding the straps of his backpack over his shoulders, he walked to the top of the staircase, the rope spooling out behind him. He tossed the length over the side, allowing it to dangle down, the rope bending halfway and trailing back up towards his waist.

He had seen people on TV abseiling, but they had complex systems of ropes to allow them to descend. All he had was this one slightly frayed cord. He sat down and put his legs over the edge. Holding the rope tightly he slowly lowered himself off, clutching the rope in his hands. It brought back uncomfortable memories from his days in school, where the ability to climb a rope and ring a bell had for some reason been considered a vital part of physical education.

Slowly and carefully, hand over hand, Gareth lowered himself into the darkness. As he descended the distance between himself and the bend in the rope grew shorter, the rope slowly reaching its maximum length. He felt strange, his skin tingling slightly as he climbed. Gareth had felt the sensation before, as he had been catapulted across Acamida by the teleporter platform. It was the sensation brought on by the strange mana powering the ancient devices, and no doubt the same energy was at play when it came to bending space and time within this floor. Gareth had wandered out of bounds, moving outside where the designer of the space had expected him to.

He was surprised to find something beneath his feed before the rope reached its end. There was still only darkness, but Gareth knew the sensation of stone beneath his feet when he felt it. He looked around and realised that the end of the staircase was nearby. His guess had been right, the actual distance from the doorway to the bottom of the room not particularly far, the darkness of the room an illusion. The staircase had been twisted about to extend the distance, using its defiance of physics to squeeze as long a journey as possible into the small space.

“Ok. What’s stupid room is next then?” Garth said to himself. He found he was whispering, it felt wrong to speak at full volume in the darkness surrounding him. He untied the rope from around his waist as he walked towards where the stairs reached their bottom, another stone door waiting to be opened.

Gareth pulled the door open roughly. He’d had enough. Enough of the bizarre rooms, enough of the almost juvenile way he was being tested. It reminded him of an old TV show, one where teams had to complete simple puzzles or navigate a maze in order to win a crystal that would give them more time at an almost entirely random final task. He hoped desperately that the top of the tower wasn’t some giant glass dome filled with red and gold tickets fluttering over a fan.

The sight beyond the doorway was something to behold. It was a simple room, smaller than the one at the top of the stairs, its walls the same smooth stone with bands of elaborate carving. The patterns reminded Gareth of old Celtic designs, ones that were still common in certain parts of Earth. What was wonderous, however, was the contents of the room.

Hundreds of blue glowing runes, each etched onto a small black metal disc. The discs were floating in the air slowly drifting around each other as though they were caught in the orbit of some invisible sun. Gareth recognised the now-familiar design of the runes, it was Eternal, the powerful language of the gods. He assumed that the constellation before him was the source of the strange chambers he had traversed, their magic bending reality in unnatural ways.

At the far side of the room was a great metal disc, a single rune glowing on its centre. It matched the one in the trapped corridor, and Gareth approached it, the floating runes driftingly gently out of his way as he walked. Reaching the other side, he pressed the button on the larger disc, the metal depressing only slightly. A clink sounded in the room, followed by another, then another, the noises repeating faster and faster. Around him the floating runes were ceasing to glow, the discs hosting them dropping to the ground.

“Right,” Gareth said. “Guess I need to go back.” He sighed, climbing back up the rope wasn’t something he was looking forward to. He stepped over the metal that now covered the floor carefully. Whilst the runes weren’t glowing anymore, he didn’t want to accidentally activate one and suffer some unforeseen consequence.

Reaching the doorway gave Gareth a welcome surprise. The room beyond still hosted a staircase, but it was much shorter, and lea directly up to the door above. His rope was still dangling through, though the floor it was resting on was now the same familiar stone, rather than endless blackness. Gareth was almost certain that the room itself was smaller than it had been.

The walk up the steps was draining, but far less so than it would have been climbing slowly up the rope. Once he reached the top Gareth wasn’t surprised to find that the chamber beyond had also changed. He found himself in a simple round room, much like the one at the bottom floor of the tower. The distended twisting of the room had become undone, the thing snapping back into a shape that conformed with the rest of reality. Directly ahead of him was the platform that he had arrived on, a third rune lit up on its surface.

There were three more doorways in the room, ones that hadn’t been there in its old form. A smile stretched across Gareth’s face as Sarkuran stepped through one. He nodded at his horned comrade then crouched down to untie his rope from around the hinge.

“I assume that you have just spent time wandering around some bizarre nonsense series of rooms?” Sarkuran said as he approached.

“Yeah, not sure what the point is.”

“It’s a kind of mental trap, I believe. Not everyone can cope with seeing their perceptions distorted like that and might simply choose to head back. It’s all rather ingenious. I suspect the light-giving crystals on the floor below us were deliberately spaced to allow for someone to swing their way through as Magda did. It’s a rather obvious weakness in the design in hindsight. This entire tower is one elaborate test, I think.” Sarkuran had come to the same conclusion as Gareth had, though he was impressed rather than annoyed.

“Yeah,” Gareth said, tucking his rope back inside his backpack. “You’re right. This place is some kind of massive challenge. It means we’re only going to meet more trouble as we move up floors.”

“More elementals, along with whatever else this place throws at us.” Sarkuran looked up at the hole in the ceiling that led to the next floor. “I have to wonder exactly how many floors remain. These chambers are rather tall. Perhaps not many?”

“Their height could be altered like the rest of the room. It's obvious now that all kinds of crazy things could be happening with these rooms. Maybe there’s a million floors to this place? Maybe there’s just three.” Gareth began to stroll towards the central platform. “You see any sign of the girls?”

“No, as soon as I passed through onto this floor, I found myself separated. I suspect there are four doors because we each got out own personal trial here. I assume they simply haven’t found their way out yet.”

“What if they don’t?” Gareth said. He had faith in his comrades, but he was trying to think pragmatically.

“Then they don’t. We have little choice but to wait and see.”

***

It took nearly an hour before the four members of the party were reunited. Imelda had appeared a few minutes after Sarkuran, grumbling about the maze she had been forced to traverse. The three of them had then sat down by the central platform and waited for Magda to appear.

When she finally did, it was to a chorus of laughter. She was soaked through from head to toe, her hair bedraggled, her dress sticking to her skin.

“It’s not funny,” Magda said, trying to shake water from her sleeves.

“What happened to you? You look like a drowned fish,” Imelda said.

“I had to swim across this big pool of water to get to the exit. Turns out I can’t swim! Not well at least! I nearly drowned.” Magda grabbed her hair and twisted, water pouring out through her fingers. “I regret coming to this stupid place. Monsters everywhere, weird nonsense rooms, it's awful!”

“Wasn’t too bad for me. I didn’t even do what it wanted, there was this set of massive stairs and I climbed down with a rope instead,” Gareth said with a shrug. “Need to think outside the box a bit more.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just whip out a boat, shall I? Reach into my backpack and drag it out.”

“You know, maybe?” The only limit to what the enchanted packs could hold seemed to be if they could fit through the opening. Gareth assumed that an inflatable dinghy could fit, maybe, if they existed at all in Acamida. It didn’t seem likely. The runic bags didn’t seem to come in any size bigger than a backpack, otherwise, Gareth expected there would be bizarre effects on the economy of the world. He realised that even the backpacks might have had an effect, he certainly hadn’t seen any carts back at the mine near their endless stacks of stone. Tossing them all into two or three enchanted packs and simply walking back to Wildermount seemed entirely feasible.

“Hang on,” Imelda said as she fished about inside her pack. She produced a sheet of linen cloth, an all-purpose rag that she passed to Magda to use as a towel. “That should help. Thankfully it’s pretty hot here. Too hot really.”

“I imagine we’re near the equator,” Gareth said. “If Acamida is like Earth then it’ll be hotter here. It’s closer to the sun.”

Imelda wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “Don’t really care why. Just wish it would stop.”

Gareth watched Imelda wick the sweat from her hand onto the ground. It raised questions about how her body worked, with its strange mix of humanoid and reptilian. He kept his questions to himself, asking random things about a woman’s body was never a good idea.

“So, I guess we keep going up, right?” Gareth said, pointing to the platform. “We’ve got the rune for the next floor.” There was a dozen lining the centre of the platform, though the third that had lit up wasn’t sequential with the other two, skipping over several sections. Gareth hopped that meant they wouldn’t have to stop on every floor.

“Yeah, just, give me a minute to dry off, please?” A large puddle had begun to form beneath Magda. “I would have to have to fight more monsters soaking wet.”

***

Candlelight flickered across the face of Lord Tristan Harworthy as he read the piece of paper in his hands. His job as nominal leader of the Wildermount military had been a dull one of late. His forces had emerged victorious against those of the Vanmeer Republic, but both sides had suffered heavy losses, and the slow process of rebuilding was one of signing endless requisition forms and invoices. It didn’t help that the king had dropped the task of arranging the grand series of duelling tournaments announced in the wake of victory onto the lord’s lap. Normally Tristan would have jumped at the chance, managing the whims of King Eustace effectively had raised him to the top of the court—Tristan the true ruler of the Kingdom in all but name—but he simply didn’t have time at the moment. All the morale in the universe couldn’t make up for simply having no soldiers should battle come again to the kingdom.

The paper in his hands wasn’t to do with either of his current struggles. It was a report passed on to him from the city guard, his contacts there instructed to send any new cases that were particularly interesting his way. Crime within Wildermount was a precarious thing. The city guard worked hard to keep law and order, but the sheer population of the city made it a losing battle. Tristan was acutely aware that there were multiple powerful crime families operating within the city, but the guards could never prove enough to take down the family heads. This was by design; the families were either run directly by certain noble houses or received the bulk of their support from them. Crime was inevitable, so it only made sense that the proper people control it.

The report was newly written, the ink on it still barely dry. A few hours ago, a guard captain from the bottom tier, along with one of his underlings, had attempted capture of an unknown person who had been hitting family run sites. As Tristan understood it a false rumour had been started about a large sum of money being held at a particular place, though like all the best lies it had been concealed beneath a thick layer of the truth.

That someone was hitting the families wasn’t news. The families regularly hit each other, though they were careful never to do anything that would evolve beyond a light skirmish. What was interesting was that the suspect was both leaving calling cards at the scene and that they were a duellist.

It was something that Tristan had expected to happen. When deck boxes had begun appearing far and wide across the kingdom, it had upset a balance that had existed for generations. The noble families were, in Tristan’s opinion, simply better than their commoner counterparts. Better educated, better bred, better manner, simply superior in every way. Restricting the use of decks to them only made sense. Now anyone could have that power, and it was inevitable someone would eventually use that power to their advantage. According to the report, the city guard had already begun calling the suspect “the Lich” based on the skull motif they used and the undead affinity they seemed to have. Tristian suspected it was some vigilante, a local of the lowest tier taking justice into their own hands, now they had the power to do so.

“Now, we can’t have that, can we,” Tristan said to himself. He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment paper. He placed it flat onto the dark varnished mahogany and lifted his quill from its holder. Dipping the tip into an already open pot of ink he began to write in a flowing cursive script.

Once he was done, Tristan put his quill back in his holder and blew gently on the ink to aid its drying. He thought for a moment about calling Archibald, the fellow Knight of the Card his right-hand man in most things, before remembering that he was still on leave due to his injuries. Archibald would likely never walk again, but Tristan knew it wouldn’t slow down one of the few people he called a friend. Archibald was an impressive duellist, as long as he still had working hands it would be impossible to keep him down.

Instead, Tristan stood up, rolling the letter up and wrapping it with a ribbon. He picked up a small metal disc from his table and slid both ends of the ribbon through a slot in the top. The disc hissed for a moment and then popped open like a locket to reveal a freshly printed wax seal inside. The runic device was an extravagance, an item that could summon a seal from nothing, but as far as Tristan was concerned it was worth its exorbitant price. Messing around with candles and stamps was far too much hassle for someone who wrote as many letters as he did.

He pushed open the door to his office and turned towards the guards posted immediately outside. Tristan didn’t need them, he was arguably the most powerful duellist in the entire kingdom, but having guards was a signal to others that he was important. Perception was a key part of court politics.

“Take this to the guard main office on the second tier,” he said, passing the letter to the guard. “They will probably complain, at length, about interference with their affairs. Don’t listen to them and ensure this ends up in the hands of the high-guardian himself, are we clear?”

The guard nodded in response. The tone of his lord implied that haste was very much the expectation, so the guard simply turned and began to walk away despite not looking forward to explaining why he was insisting on seeing the highest-ranked city guard at four in the morning.

Chapter Sixteen

The platform slid silently into place, coming to a stop on the next floor of the tower. The weight of expectation was heavy in Gareth’s stomach, he assumed that it would contain some fiendish trap or bizarre test. He wanted to know more than anything what was at the top, to discover what it was that he was being tested for. Gareth thought that he deserved to know and was determined more than ever to uncover the secrets of the ancient place.

The contents of this floor were not what he had anticipated, though in truth he wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting after the bizarre chambers of the previous floor. The room was a round chamber, similar to the one on the bottom floor of the tower, it’s only notable feature an enormous statue at the far side of the room. It was of Magda’s godly form, the statue towering over the party, its skin carved from fine marble rather than the gaudy gold that had flanked the bridge.

The statue’s posture was odd. Rather than standing tall and proud, arm outstretched in a motherly way as the previous examples had, this one was hunched forward slightly, leaning on the top of a door that was carved into her shape. In the door was a hole, one that seemed too large to be intended for use as a handle.

“Oh look,” Gareth said, gesturing towards the statue. “It’s her holiness again.”

“Nice to see some proper respect,” Magda said, fully aware that Gareth was being facetious. “You know, I expected to find more statues of myself in here, considering they’re outside. I had a feeling this was perhaps a temple of sorts.”

“A temple with a bunch of teleporters outside it?”

“Why not? I’m sure my worshippers would appreciate being able to travel to such a holy place from far and wide.”

“She’s got you there,” Imelda said. “If you can build magic platforms that make travel easy, then it’s probably just more sensible to build one temple.”

“Whilst it might be logistically prudent, there are still some very much relevant questions that remain unanswered. Magda claims to have no memory of this place, yet it is clearly linked to her somehow. That’s the most pressing issue,” Sarkuran began to walk towards the statue, his eyes darting around the room as he remained vigilant for more traps. “That and this godly language everywhere. Presumably, that isn’t something you find on many mortal worlds.”

“It’s worse than that,” Magda said. “This place is old. Ancient even. I’ve never interacted with a world, not directly, and I’m relatively young, for a goddess. This place is older than I am, I’m certain of it.”

Sarkuran ran a hand over the surface of the statue, feeling the smooth marble beneath his fingers. “And yet it’s dedicated to you.”

“Uh, can you not touch up a statue of me please? That’s weird.”

The former demon king snapped his hands into his pockets. “I was simply looking for any signs of what we’re supposed to do, I meant nothing lecherous, I assure you. I’m simply assuming we must have to complete some kind of task in order to move on.”

“I’m pretty sure that task isn’t rubbing you hand over my legs.”

“It’s just a statue,” Gareth said. “It’s not like he’s really touching you.”

“That’s such a typical man answer,” Imelda said, shaking her head in disbelief. “So, I’m assuming we’re supposed to open this door, somehow. We could just try pulling it?”

“It’s the obvious thing to do,” Sarkuran said, putting his hand into the hole. “I would recommend you stand back, just in case.”

The others did as he asked, spreading out around the room. Anything could happen, the strange tower limitless in its possibilities. Hands rested on deck boxes, ready to fight should monsters come pouring out from within the doorway.

Sarkuran tried to grip the door, the hole in it a simple square cut out of the marble, rather than something he could hold onto. His fingers slipped as he strained, the door refusing to budge. He stopped for a moment, shaking the numbness from his hands, his skin pink with embarrassment.

“I uh, don’t seem able to move this doorway,” he said. “Perhaps there is some kind of lock that we need to release?”

“Something that fits into that hole, maybe?” The answer seemed obvious to Gareth. They were supposed to put something into that hungry gap in the marble. It was almost crying out to be filled.

“That would seem the most obvious solution.” Sarkuran took a step away from the statue, a hand resting on his chin as his eyes swept over it. “Does anyone see anything that could be suitable?”

The group spread out, searching the room for something that could fit. It was a futile exercise; the chamber was suspiciously empty aside from the statue. After about fifteen minutes of looking each member had given up, Gareth holding out the longest before his boredom had gotten the better of him.

“Maybe we can just…blow it up?” Imelda said. She opened her deck box, a set of glowing cards forming by her hand. “We can just have our monsters attack it until they smash it up.”

“It’s solid marble,” Gareth said. He was no expert on geology, but he assumed marble had to be difficult to damage considering the prestige involved in working with it. “It’s going to be pretty hard to break through.”

“Marble isn’t particularly tough.” Sarkuran couldn’t resist correcting Gareth. “Certainly not as strong as granite. That’s why it's so popular for art, tough enough to withstand the rigours of time but soft enough to be worked with.”

“All right, not all of us have built castles and palaces or whatever.”

“So, we try and blow it up then,” Imelda said, cards shifting into cloaked bandits before her.

“Maybe,” Magda said as she strolled over to the door, “Sarkuran was just being pathetic. None of us has tried to open this, have we?” She placed her hand into the hole to prove her point.

Blue light filled the chamber as thousands of runes appeared along the walls, the Eternal invisible until it started pumping out arcane energy. It was responding to Magda’s presence, the goddess herself the key to opening the doorway. She stepped back as the marble began to slide open, the stone moving with only magical aid.

Within the door was a now-familiar sight, a disc with a glowing rune on the centre, the button the party needed to press to advance to the next floor.

“Ok, so, I guess that makes sense,” Gareth said as the runes around him began to fade. “This is a statue of you after all.”

“Interesting.” Sarkuran patrolled the room as he thought out loud, his eyes examining where the glowing runes had once been. “It would seem that if this place is supposed to be a test of some kind, it apparently is one that would require Magda’s presence. That would imply the point of the test was to ensure that the person entering the tower was indeed her.”

“Then why wasn’t this the front door? That would have been easier,” Imelda said. The revelation annoyed her, she had been tested just as much as the rest of the party, had earned her way to this floor of the tower. Discovering she couldn’t have gotten further without being a particular person made the entire process feel like an insult.

“Possibly to test Magda’s companions, as well as her.”

“Maybe that’s why there are statues of her everywhere when there shouldn’t be?” Gareth said. “Maybe whoever built this place did it in expectation of Magda coming here, rather than her being around at the time. Like a prediction, or a prophecy. Those are things you get in these worlds with magic, right?”

“They’ve been waiting for way longer than I think they expected if that’s the case,” Imelda said. She took a few steps towards the central platform. “Building a whole place to test if someone is the goddess you’re waiting for implies that you think they’re going to turn up relatively soon.”

“Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” Magda had been worryingly silent as the door had opened. She was suddenly full of bluster, stomping across the room towards the platform. “I’ve had enough of not knowing what’s going on, frankly. We need to keep going up. I need answers.”

She stepped onto the platform and crossed her arms, glaring at the others as they ambled towards her. Once they had all stepped onto the metal disc Magda stamped down with her foot, pressing the button that was newly lit up.

The platform began to rise. Not its usual gentle lifting, but instead rocketing upwards at incredible speed. The party dropped to the metal, the force of it pushing against them as the platform continued to accelerate.

It had raced through the opening to the next floor in moments, and the party had found themselves travelling through a sea of stars. Glittering lights amongst endless black, space reaching out infinitely around them. The stars were flying past with such incredible speed that their light was stretching, the platforms' acceleration twisting the beauty that surrounded them. The forces pressing down upon them were near unbearable, the air pushed from their lungs as they gasped for breath.

Time passed, it was impossible to tell how long, perception altered by the moving platform. It could have been minutes, or hours, the party too preoccupied with holding tight to the metal and focusing on snatching what valuable breath they could.

The relief was palpable as the platform began to slow; the pressure released from those riding upon it. The stars became visible again, the lowering of speed releasing their light to be seen once more. Darkness enveloped the party as the platform passed through an unseen opening.

They found themselves bombarded by light, great glass windows allowing views of the rainforest beyond. Ancients swooped through the skies nearby, a group of pterosaurs that had cast their shadows over the party when they had first arrived in the tower’s lost kingdom. A roar could be heard faintly, some ferocious beast had earnt itself some prey.

“I thought, perhaps, that I may have to wait for an eternity,” said a voice, snapping the party to attention. It was sitting on a chair at the north side of the room, the voice one of dust and bone. Its owner shifted forwards in its seat, bony fingers tapping against the stone of its throne. The creature's face was unmoving, showing no emotion largely because it was an exposed skull, a thin golden crown resting atop the bone.

“Uh, that skeleton spoke, right?” Gareth said, pointing at the creature. Scattered around it were dozens of books and scrolls, giving the chamber the look of some disorganised teenager’s room—if that teenager were a talking skeleton.

“Excuse me? I am far more than some basic skeleton. I am Henig, high priest of Magdalena, and guardian lich of this sanctum!”

***

Mike hadn’t been able to get any sleep. Losing the suspect had filled him with a kind of simmering anger. It that would have resulted in loud stomping of boots and slamming of doors that would have woken his wife and sent him on a one way trip to sleeping on the kitchen table for the foreseeable future. Instead, he had decided to go back to his office, complete some paperwork, and then maybe match some shut-eye under his table when he was confident that no one was going to disturb him.

That last part hadn’t gone to plan. Having written his report on the incident and sent it by urgent courier to the main office, he had received a response within the hour, which was unusually fast. Suspiciously so if Mike was the kind of man with an eye for a conspiracy. He generally wasn’t, in his opinion, there were enough problems he had to deal with without going actively looking for more.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and knocked back the last of his cup of coda, the warm brown liquid providing what little energy he could. The scroll unfurled on his deck was frustrating to him, what he considered a massive overreaction on the main office’s part. The problem was it had come from the high-guardian himself, and as such Mike couldn’t just pretend it had gotten lost and ignore it.

“The lich?” Mavis said leaning over from the other side of the desk. She also hadn’t gone home, though on her part it was more an ill-advised attempt to impress her captain than anything else.

“The lich. Apparently, in the time since I sent my report our suspect has already picked up a nickname. You know what stations are like, the night shift was probably already gossiping the second we got back.”

“Putting out a bounty on them though? Is that the smartest idea?”

“Hell no!” Mike slammed his mug on the table. “It’ll only make things buggering worse, won’t it? The high-guardian must be scared this masked idiot is going to start a war between the families and is trying to quash it, no doubt on the orders of some nob above him. The thing is this just creates another problem, doesn’t it?”

Mavis shrugged; she wasn’t sure what Mike was getting at.

“Right,” he said, sighing slightly. “We’ve got some guy, or gal, running around hitting family…let’s say businesses. Maybe they’re doing it just for the money, probably the most likely option, but they could also be doing it out of some stupid sense of justice. Like those idiot heroes you read about in those copper dreadfuls. You start sticking these everywhere, with a catchy nickname, and a big bounty, well, give it about a day before everyone assumes it’s the second option.” Mike tapped on the wanted poster to make his point.

“You reckon this will make them a hero?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re like me, Sergeant. You’ve lived in the lower tier all your life. Before you joined the guards if you heard someone was going around hitting gangsters where it hurt, what would you think?”

“That they were doing a damn good thing,” Mavis said, her head bobbing as she recognised what Mike was getting at.

“A damn good thing. Of course, not everyone is going to believe that, low-level family thugs for one, and if you think they were looking for them now, imagine what it's going to be like with money involved.”

“Three thousand gold is a lot of money,” Mavis said.

“Insane amounts. You would have to be a duellist to make that kind of money from someone. And that brings me to our other problem.”

“We’ve got a lot of problems it seems, Captain.”

“Nothing new there. This kind of money is going to bring out the duellists, all those new folks looking to make some cash from their windfall. I could do without a bunch of spell slingers getting themselves between us and this investigation.”

“Maybe that’s a lead?” Mavis said. “The fact this guy was a duellist. They were summoning zombies. Doesn’t the guild keep records of who has what affinity?”

“They do, but as far as I’m aware undead is a common one. I’ve had to deal with six different formal duels in the last month involving undead users, and that’s assuming this person even bothered with registering with the guild in the first place. If you were going to use your deck to commit crimes, would you?”

“I wouldn’t commit any crimes, Captain,” Mavis said, standing to attention as she said it.

“Oh, leave it out, Mavis. Everyone does crime, everyone. You know it's against the law to have a window shutter that’s made of anything except ash lumber? You know why? Because the noble who wrote that law a hundred years ago had come into a big stockpile of the stuff he was trying to shift.”

“It’s our job to enforce the law though, Captain, doesn’t matter how we feel about it.”

“That’s the line they feed you in training. It’s bollocks though. You’re not a puppet, some mindless thing like one of those monsters that comes out of a card. Our job is justice, and sometimes that means bending the rules a little or looking the other way to make sure what happens is right. Now I ain’t advocating for what this idiot is doing.” Mike tapped the rough sketch that dominated the poster. His report had described the skull mask, but the artist who had been pressed to do the poster so quickly and so early had clearly been too asleep to hear anything other than the word skull. The image was one of an actual skeleton wearing a cloak. “I’m talking more about thinking about the spirit of the law, not necessarily the letter of it. Make sense.”

“I think so, Captain.” Mike had been a guard for longer than Mavis had been alive. She knew that his advice was coming from decades of experience, and she had no intention of ignoring it. “What do we do now then?”

“I have…no idea. We were dealing with some idiot with a deck. Now thanks to this bloody poster we’re going to be dealing with the Lich. We’ll have to think it through before we take our next steps.” Mike picked his mug back up, its weight less than he expected. He lifted the mug to his eye and was annoyed to find he had run out of coda.

“Well, there is one thing we can find out,” Mavis said. She took the mug from Mike’s hand and took a step towards the door.

“And what’s that, Sergeant?”

Mavis turned the knob, the door opening slightly in her hand. “Find out how you defeat a lich.”

***

“I’m sorry, you’re a what?” Magda said. The creature before her was bizarre to look at, a skeleton wearing a rich blue robe. It had gestured somewhat over dramatically as it had spoken.

“Your high priestess, goddess,” the skeleton said. It stood up from the throne it was sat in and took a step forward. It crouched down onto one knee and bowed before Magda.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. Your body may be different, but I would recognise your holiness anywhere. Your aura is unmistakable.”

“So, Magda has been here before?” Gareth said. The creature wasn’t what he expected. Liches were common monsters in the card games he had played, as well as making appearances in a few video games he knew as well. They were always evil undead beings with hordes of minions, ancient things that stored their souls away in some arcane object. This thing was different, it seemed almost relieved to see them.

“Her holiness Magdalena built this place, many aeons ago.” The skeleton stood up from his bow and adjusted his robe for a moment.  “I lose track as to when exactly. Time lost meaning to me far quicker than I assumed it would,” he said with a shrug.

“No, that’s impossible.” Magda took two steps backwards from the creature. “I didn’t exist when this place was built.”

The skeleton put a bony finger to where its lips would be if it still had a face. “Right, right. You did say that this might be the case. You were very concerned about what might happen if you were to lose.”

“Lose? Lose what?” Magda’s face was turning pink. She was flustered, confused about what she was being told.

“Ah. I see I should start at the beginning.” The lich raised a hand, gesturing to the other side of the chamber. It stepped between the party as the bare stone wall began to shift like it had become liquid. It reshaped itself into a mural.

“What is all this?” Sarkuran said.

“I’m getting to that! People these days, they don’t have patience. Or at least I assume they don’t, you’re the first people I’ve met in a long, long time. You have something about you something…divine, but not quite.”

“Sarkuran is an agent of the adversary,” Magda said. “One of their chosen.”

“Oh my!” The skull shifted to look at Magda with its empty sockets. “You really have forgotten everything, haven’t you? Adversary indeed. That’s the very lie you were determined to fight against. Now, if there aren’t any more interruptions, I shall explain.”

The mural had taken on one shape, that of a female figure, her hair flowing outwards like water, worlds nestled within the strands.

“Her holiness Magdalena is the first goddess, the one who existed before everything else. She forged the stars and the worlds and hung them upon the great tree of mana that underpins everything.” The mural shifted again, dozens of humanoid forms shaping themselves out of the liquid stone before the towering woman. “Eventually shepherding these worlds taxed even her holiness, so she created others in her image, gods to watch over and guide her creations so she could continue the work of spreading life throughout reality undisturbed.”

“So, you think Magda, isn’t just a god. She’s like the god, of everyone and everything. I’ve seen her drop half her sandwich on her lap when she took a bite,” Gareth said. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Ah, yes well, her holiness’s current situation isn’t exactly her peak. Apologies, my goddess,” Henig said. “You see, for millions of years things carried on as Magdalena intended. She created more worlds for life to thrive, and more gods to watch over them. Those who died would pass onto an afterlife where they would be watched over by their assigned god for eternity. Whilst her holiness was content with this, her children were not.”

“Yeah, eternal happiness was definitely not what happened to me when I died,” Gareth said.

“Exactly,” the skeleton said. The mural shifted again, the figures at the bottom suddenly finding themselves with weapons. “See, everything that Magdalena created had a tiny fragment of her own being within it. Every god, every world, every single living thing, she gave a piece of herself to all of them. This would weaken her, eventually consuming her entirely, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. But the gods grew greedy. They were not content with the tiny fragments of her power that she had given them, so took it upon themselves to gain more. I believe they called this essence, divinity.”

“Wait, so I’m divinity?” Magda held a hand to her chest. “That can’t be right.”

“It is. The gods rose up against you, eager to steal away what remained of your power. No longer at your full strength, and outmatched, you fled here, to Acamida, sealing the world behind you as you arrived. Whilst you were here, you could not resist stepping in to guide the people you found, my people. You taught us the language of the universe, and how to manipulate the divinity within us to achieve great things. In time we created our own runes and were able to force mana to do our bidding.”

“You created the first decks?” Imelda said, her fingers settling on hers for a moment.

“Yes, and thanks to Magdalena our people were able to spread our knowledge across Acamida, to all its corners and denizens.”

“Then what happened to me? Why am I like this?” Magda had shouted her words, even if she hadn’t intended to. The information pouring out of Henig’s skull just seemed so unbelievable.

“Eventually, looking after our world was not enough. You worried about the others, what the gods were inflicting upon them. When you discovered the truth about what they were doing…”

“What? What was it?”

“They were playing a game. Setting up conflicts across entire universes and gambling on the outcome. Taking it in turns to play the Adversary, sending souls to be reincarnated in worlds to cause havoc whilst the others tried to stop them. Conflict serves them well; they’ve worked out how to harvest the scraps of divinity contained in the souls of the dead before casting them aside. Magdalena could not let this stand, so left Acamida to try and stop them.”

“Wait, so divinity, it comes from people’s souls? That’s what would have happened to me if Magda hadn’t sent me here?” Gareth said. “What happens after that?”

“A soul without its divinity is an echo of itself. They are cast aside, tossed into the space between worlds and left to fester. Eventually, they become something else, the things we call nightmares.”

“No. No, no, no, this is all wrong. That would mean I’ve been casting souls away to become those…things, all this time. Why don’t I remember this? I should remember this!” Magda clutched the sides of her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Before you left, you thought losing was a possibility. You had this temple converted so that it would act as a trial, a gauntlet to await your return. I believe you thought that something like this might happen and wanted to ensure you were strong enough. You and your friends. I, of course, was happy to undergo the enchantments so I could watch over the temple eternally, even if the side effects are…unfortunate.” Henig waved his bony fingers for emphasis. “I am glad you are back. I thought perhaps I might go a little mad. I thought perhaps the other gods had found a way to destroy you.”

“No, instead they found a way to include me in their sick game. If this is true, they’ve wiped my memory of it, somehow. Why send me here, to Acamida?”

“When I travelled this world, spreading the gospel of your faith, I came across many societies that would throw prisoners to fearsome beasts for entertainment. Possibly this is the godly equivalent.”

“Why Acamida though, I thought Magda had sealed it off?” Imelda said. She was taking the revelations about the nature of the universe in her stride.

“She sent me here,” Gareth said. “Perhaps they tossed her through the portal after me because they thought it would be funny, without realising where it went? Maybe Magda chose Acamida subconsciously? She must still have been able to access it somehow.”

“Great. Just fantastic,” Magda said. She lowered herself to the ground and crossed her legs, tears streaming down her cheeks. “From god of everything, to minor goddess, to mortal! What’s next, being a rat? Maybe spending some time as an ant?”

Gareth crouched, putting his hand on the bottom of Magda’s chin and turning her head to face him. “See, that’s wrong thinking.”

“It is?” Magda said through loud sniffs, her nose starting to run along with her eyes.

“Yeah, because now when you go back and kick their arses, they won’t see it coming.”

Chapter Seventeen

Magda looked up at Gareth through a shimmering curtain of tears. She didn’t know what to make of what Henig had said, but something deep within her told her that he was telling the truth, at least as the lich understood it. Her tears were a mixture of frustration and rage, she had known the judgments were wrong, the system intrinsically unfair, and perhaps some small part of her remembered how things should have been when she had stepped in to save Gareth. It sickened her, that the other gods were simply playing some twisted game as they harvested the small fragment of divinity that existed within the souls of living things.

“You mean it?” she said, extending a hand so Gareth could help her to her feet.

“I do,” Gareth said taking Magda’s hand. “If it wasn’t for you, I would be one of those things, the nightmares. I thought the afterlife was wrong before, now I’m just angry at the reason why. When it was the way things were, it was just unfair. Now it’s a crime, possibly the worst one I can imagine.”

“You have my aid as well,” Sarkuran said. He stepped forward and put a hand on Magda’s shoulder, an unusually tender gesture from him. “I was sent here to fight against what I was told was the tyranny of the gods. Now I know it was those same gods who had issued me that decree to foster conflict. It’s no wonder nightmares gnaw at the edge of our reality as they do. I imagine they must fester with untold anger. We’ve assumed since our meeting that we were on opposite sides, and now we discover that there are no sides. I for one, do not like being made a fool of.”

“So, what do we do now?” Imelda said. “I don’t know anything about gods, or the afterlife, but I’ve thrown my lot in with you folks, so I’m along for the ride.”

“Nothing changes for us,” Gareth said. “We get more levels, more cards, we grow stronger. If we’re going to take on the gods, at some point, we’re going to need all the power we can muster.”

“If I may interject,” Henig said. “This temple is a locus of mana, built upon the convergence of several powerful leylines. I’m sure you’ve surmised that it's surrounded by more of the teleportation platforms that you arrived here on. From here you can travel all across Acamida. If you were looking to grow your power, there can be no finer base from which to do so. That is, after all, my purpose, to keep this place safe until Magdalena could return and reclaim it.”

“Wait, so the tower is ours now?”

“Well, technically one trial remains. I might have jumped ahead a little in my excitement. You must defeat me in order to prove yourselves.”

“Like, in a duel?” Gareth said. He knew that the elementals defending the structure had to have come from somewhere. It only made sense that Henig would be a duellist.

“Well…no. At least not necessarily. Magdalena only requested that I be defeated, she didn’t specify how. My deck is currently preoccupied. Its power is being channelled through the tower to provide its defences. No, instead I believe defeating me in more traditional combat should be sufficient.” The skeleton shifted his posture, the bottom of his skinless jaw held up, his back kept as straight as he could get it. “Go on, strike me.”

“Uh, ok?” Gareth wasn’t entirely sure why the lich was allowing him to throw the first punch. “If you insist.”

Gareth swung with all his might, which considering his experience of brawling extended to only a few schoolyard scuffles as a youth wasn’t particularly impressive. A loud clonk filled the room as his knuckles stuck bare bone. It hurt more than he expected, no skin or muscle present to absorb the impact of his punch.

Henig fell backwards, bones clattering as they struck the tiled floor. His skull detached itself and rolled towards a nearby pile of books.

“Oh no! I am defeated,” the skull said, its jaw chattering. “Truly you are a mighty hero!”

Optional objective completed: Explore the tower.

Secret objective completed: Defeat the lich.

Skill unlocked. Lichbane – Reduces the attack and defence of all undead affinity monsters. Decreases each rating by ten for every five ranks.

Henig’s body clambered to its feet and wandered over to the skull, picking it up and placing it atop his spine. He twisted it into place, adjusting it for a moment until he was happy with its angle.

“Is that it?” Gareth said.

“I believe so. You’ve defeated me in combat, that’s the final part of her holiness’s prophecy fulfilled.”

“I think that’s probably not what I meant,” Magda said, trying to suppress a chuckle. The entire exchange had struck her as incredibly silly. “I guess in the future I should be more specific by what I mean.”

“Prophecies are always incredibly vague, in my experience. Several of the peoples I incorporated into my empire had them and trying to make sense of them all was rather annoying. I had to task an entire division of bureaucrats to decipher them,” Sarkuran said. His eyes had drifted upwards, the same way they always did when he was reminiscing about his past as a dark lord.

“Why?” Magda said. “Seems like a waste of time.”

“Oh, on the contrary. Nothing endears you to a newly conquered people by somehow fulfilling an ancient prophecy of some messiah or the other. If you can somehow prove you were born under the fifteenth sacred star whilst watched by a holy ox or some other nonsense you can work miracles, diplomatically speaking.”

“That’s kind of cynical.”

“I won’t deny that, but it’s effective.”

Imelda strode over to the windows of the room, thin glass allowing a view of the untamed lands beyond. She put a hand to the clear surface, her breath causing it to mist slightly. “Ok, so slight problem with us having access to the tower. It’s not exactly in a convenient place.” She pointed through the glass at an enormous feathered beast stomping the trees, its mouth filled with fangs longer than a person.

“The teleporters kind of take care of that though,” Gareth said.”

“Not really. We still need to walk through a dangerous rainforest every time we want to travel here. And besides, what are we supposed to do, just take a trip through the mine every time? That’s going to raise some questions that’s for sure.”

“Ah, I think I might be able to help with that!” Henig said. He held up one figure, aware that his lack of face made it otherwise difficult to tell what emotions he was expressing. This led to him talking with his hands and over-emoting with his voice, the combined effect of which made him seem like someone enthusiastically into amateur theatre.

He strode over to behind the throne he had been sat in and bent down, opening a large stone chest that was set directly behind the seat. He began to rummage through its contents, tossing several different robes over his shoulder.

“Ah, here we are!” The lich stood up straight, holding a rod of grey stone triumphantly in his hand. The rod was about the length of his forearm and had a line running around its centre. Runes were etched along its shaft, the curving shapes of Eternal carved into it. Henig tossed it through the air, Gareth catching it in his hands.

Runic item: Rod of returning. Activate the rod to return to the bottom floor of the Tower of Magdalena. This item will create a ring that lasts thirty seconds. People standing on the ring when that time ends are transported. The rod is activated by twisting it, the size of the ring depending on how far.

“This will bring us back to the tower?” Gareth said, dismissing the notification that had floated before his eyes. He already knew the answer, the notifications had never lied to him before, but there was always the chance of a misunderstanding.

“Indeed. It’s linked directly to the bottom of the tower. Don’t lose it, I’ve only got the one, and it’s rather difficult to create more. Perhaps impossible, considering how long it's been it's entirely likely the kind of elemental creature the stone is from doesn’t exist anymore.” Henig walked back towards the group, his bony toes rattling against the floor.

“Great. Can uh, you do anything about the rooms in the place? Not sure I’m keen on having to deal with that one floor that just tosses physics in the bin every time we pass through.”

“Worry not. Now that the test is over that’s just a rather basic floor. There’s space to add more below my office, normal floors that is, not twisting affronts to reality. You probably experienced the empty void as something strange as you approached.”

“You mean we nearly got crushed and suffocated in that void?” Imelda said, glaring at the lich. “Yeah, if we can make those normal floors so that doesn’t happen again it would be very much appreciated. We’ve still got the problem that we’ll have to walk back to Wildermount every time we come here.”

“Yeah, we’ll probably still have to keep rooms at the Troll and Bridge,” Gareth said. His hand was on his chin as he pondered the possibilities. When they had left Wildermount he could never have imagined that it would end with the party owning a secret base in a lost world straight out of a forties B-movie. “Either way we have to go back and enter the tournament. It’s even more important now that we get enough strength. You know, I wanted to prove myself a hero to spite the gods. Now I just want to give them a kick in the teeth.”

“Perhaps, and I’m just thinking aloud here, perhaps this location would be the ideal place to start a nation of our own,” Sarkuran said.

“You mean found another empire?”  Imelda glared at him. “It doesn’t matter what nonsense about the afterlife we discover, my job is to still keep an eye on you, stop you becoming what my clan feared. I don’t think letting you start conquering the world again is a good idea.”

“I was merely making a suggestion.” Sarkuran held up his hands like a child who had been caught touching something they shouldn’t have.

“Imelda has a point,” Gareth said. “It’s not like we have any of the clout, or strength we need, and personally I’ve got no interest in doing the whole, base building nation assembling thing. Not yet, anyway. Let’s get the tournament out of the way first then worry about what we do next. We’ll still need to take on more jobs to bulk out our decks.”

“Oh, you need cards?” Henig said, his jaw chatting as he spoke. “I can perhaps help with that.” He stepped over to the wall, swiping a hand over the smooth stone. It shifted and rippled, a rectangular set of lines forming. A drawer slid out, one stuffed with glimmering golden coins. “I don’t have any cards I can spare, but I’m assuming that there is still a market for them, yes?”

“Oh, you bet there is,” Magda said, her eyes wide as she looked at the money. “Uh, technically speaking, this money is mine, right?”

“It is,” Henig said with a nod. “You set these funds aside should you return.”

“Well, I think I can use all of this wisely…”

“We’ll use it,” Gareth said, pointing at Imelda and Sarkuran. “All of us. We’re a team, remember. Besides, it’s not like we can just rock up to the market with these coins in hand, they aren’t legal tender. We’ll have to sell them to Felonious first.” The group had made connections with an antique dealer in Wildermount, wisely deducing that the specialist merchant would give them a better deal on any relics they found than any market stall. The musteling had been impressed by their choice and had openly despaired at ancient objects being treated as simple trinkets.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying to make the most of a windfall.”

“The coin? That’s what you want to make the most of here? Not the massive magical tower, the teleportation network, or the fact that you’re the source of all of reality? Never thought I would meet God and find they’re selfish,” Gareth said. Despite the revelations about Magda’s true nature, she was still the same short annoying woman he had met in the forest.

“One step at a time. The coin I can use now, the tower later. The whole wellspring of all existence thing is…I don’t quite know what to make of it.” Magda had stopped crying, but her face was still puffy and pink. She might have been the creator of all things in a past life, but right now she was a scared young woman with a height complex.

“I think it’s something we keep under wraps, for now. I already have to stop you blabbing about the goddess thing constantly in case people think you’re nuts. This is something beyond even that,” Gareth said. He stepped over to the drawer with his bag open and began scooping coins inside. “What’s the deal with the church then? You said you could feel divinity flowing through there, how does that work considering, well, all of this?”

“I believe I can answer that,” Henig said, holding up a bony hand. “Places of worship act as focal points, channels that draw the souls of believers to the afterlife of the relevant god who is supposed to be watching over them. What her holiness can feel is the fragments of herself flowing through that particular temple.”

“Oh, ghosts. Great.” Gareth didn’t want to ask what happened to the souls of people who didn’t believe. Perhaps they went to just one big atheist heaven or at least were supposed to.

“You know ghosts are real, I’ve told you this before,” Magda said. “Sometimes people refuse to pass on to the other side.”

“Sounds like they’re making the smart decision,” Sarkuran said.

***

The trip back to the bottom of the tower was an easy one, the platform descending slowly, all of its runes now lit. The vast expanse of stars was replaced by dozens of identical round chambers, all slightly wide that the tower was on the outside. The long corridor remained; its traps permanently disarmed by Henig. The lich had been happy to remain as custodian of the tower, though in truth he had little choice. He had revealed to the group that his transformation had involved making the structure itself his phylactery, his soul bound to the tower for all eternity. Aside from a few eccentricities, he seemed content with his role in life. It probably helped that he had been proven right to have made the decision, even if it was millennia in coming.

The heat hit Gareth in the face as he stepped through the doorway of the tower and back into the jungle proper. The tower had been keeping away the worst of the searing sun, but the unpleasant part was the humidity. It was somehow both warm and wet, and Gareth felt intensely uncomfortable. If they were going to return to this place, he would need some more suitable clothing.

“You ok, Magda?” Gareth said as he adjusted his backpack. His eyes darted across the treeline, searching for any ancients that might be lurking in the undergrowth.

“Not really. But I’ll be ok, I think.” The goddess had rolled up her sleeves, exposing the pale flesh of her arms to the sun in an attempt to stay cool. “It doesn’t change much about what I had planned, not really. Just means there’s more work to be done.”

Quest updated. Restore Magda to her godhood and topple the usurpers from the heavens.

Reward: Unknown.

“Oh, a quest?” Imelda said, her eyes darting about as they read the notification before her.

“Oh, that’s right, you two weren’t with us when I got the original quest. It’s uh, a long term goal, to say the least.” Now Gareth was reading it, the task seemed impossible. Getting Magda back to how she was had seemed out of reach when she was some minor goddess. Finding out that the entire thing was a ruse to keep her under control, that she was effectively the mother of everything, made the task seem like something out of legend or myth.

“You certainly aren’t joking, though I must admit, the thought of toppling the gods does seem like a challenge worth relishing. I suspect they chose me because I hold a certain disdain for being told what to do. That’s rather come back to bite them now,” Sarkuran said. He had removed his heavy cape and stuffed it into his backpack, the thick material far too hot. “The gods created the concept of their Adversary—I say we make that very real.”

“One step at a time,” Gareth said. “That’s how we do this. One foot in front of the other.”

“Would be helpful if we could skip a few steps.” Sarkuran brushed his ashen hair out of his face. “I can’t imagine we have all eternity like our skeletal friend does.”

“Don’t fancy becoming a lich, Sarkuran?” Imelda said. “You were a demon.”

“My demonhood came as an extension of achieving a high level. Henig’s transformation is from a ritual. I prefer to rely on my own power, rather than anything gifted to me.”

“I…don’t think I disagree, honestly. Right, we ready to venture back into this forest?” Imelda was clutching the long knife she had used to threaten the elementals on the bottom floor with. Behind her, the golden doors of the tower had begun to close on their own.

“Yeah,” Magda said. “I am. Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

***

Light flickered around Gareth as he found himself back in the tunnel beneath the mines. The trip through the rainforest had been an easier one for the return journey. Creatures had circled them but had kept their distance. He suspected the mana of the tower was keeping them away, the taint of Eternal changed energy suffusing his being. He suspected his theory would be confirmed shortly, the spiders hopefully still keeping their vigil as promised.

The end of the tunnel was covered in thick pink crystal webbing, the light catching the edge of the strands and spreading a pink hue across the walls nearby. It was beautiful to look at, the work of creatures to whom art came naturally. It looked tough, a wall that would be impenetrable if his faith in the creatures was misplaced.

He let out a long breath as if untold weight was falling away from his shoulders. The entire journey was supposed to have been a simple one, to discover what was below the mine, earn the gold, and make it back where others had failed in the past. The bizarre turn of events that had followed was something that Gareth could never have predicted. He realised that Acamida didn’t follow the rules he was used to, the presence of magic made it a world that danced to a different tune.

“Time to see if your faith in these creatures was well placed,” Sarkuran said. He had stridden ahead alongside Gareth. If he was being truthful Magda’s presence unsettled him, not her status as a deity above all others, that Sarkuran could cope with, it was her still tenuous fragility. His second life had been one of war and conquest, and he didn’t remember his first one, dealing with emotions had never been something he had much course to deal with.

“They won’t let us down, I know it.” Gareth wasn’t a hundred per cent certain that was true, but he had little option other than to hope it was. In theory, they weren’t trapped, they could simply go through the portal choose another from the network. Of course, there was no telling exactly how far from Wildermount they would be spat out. It could be an ocean away.

As the group approached the wall of crystal, it struck them just how thick the substance was. The spiders had been zealous in sealing the entranceway. It would take a team of men with picks days to cut through, something that was well beyond what the party was capable of.

“Uh, hello, Tax are you there?” Gareth said, placing a hand on the crystal. It was surprisingly cool. There was a vibration in the substance, one that ran gently up his arm. It was almost as if something were moving over the other side. The webbing was too thick to see through, just reflecting back a thousand images of Gareth as he drew close.

The was a loud crack, followed swiftly by another. Pink dust began to fall from the webbing, and Gareth stepped back. He couldn’t imagine that breathing in the dust would do him any long term favours. A section of the crystal fell to the ground and shattered, spreading fragments of glittering pink across the floor.

A set of crystalline mandibles appeared in the hole that had formed, a spider forcing its way partly through the gap.

“Man-thing!” Tax said, waving a limb at Gareth. “You have returned! You smell…tainted. Awash with corrupted mana.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be the case,” Gareth said. “Everything ok at this end?”

“Yes, things have been quiet since you entered this tunnel. What happened, we stopped being able to hear you a while ago.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s a long story. I wouldn’t recommend anyone step on that platform unless you want to travel far, far away.”

The spider shifted its body, the closest thing it could muster to a nod. Another section of webbing fell away. “There is no risk of that, man-thing. This entire place is off-putting to us. We would dare not enter.”

“Ask it if there’s any other way back to the surface aside from the stairs we came down,” Sarkuran said. “Unless of course, you’ve done that already. I must say I am rather jealous of this ability.”

“Is there another way back up to the surface?” Gareth said. “Aside from the one we used.”

“Yes. There is a cave network at the bottom of the chasm that comes out by a river. We use it on occasion, should we have any reason to head to the surface, which is rare, admittedly. We’ve had more reason recently, considering the…visitors we have had. The smell of death would only attract more creatures to our lair.” Tax scuttled out from the hole and gripped the wall of the tunnel as the webbing continued to collapse. She shuddered as she moved, the mana of the place making her crystals feel tingly. She didn’t like it.

“Is there a way for us to get down there? We can’t exactly walk on walls like you can.”

“I can spin something for you to climb if you wish? It will take some time though; it isn’t a short trip.”

“That would be good. If you could try and make it so that there’s somewhere for us to rest as we climb down that would be very appreciated. I suspect your stamina is greater than ours. Feel free to seal up the entrance we came in from. Once we return to our city no one else should visit, but it would be wise to do that just in case.” It still shocked Gareth how easily he could converse with the spider. He had assumed that Magda had changed something in his mind, but perhaps the truth was close to the fragments of Magda within his soul were resonating with those in the spider.

“What’s he saying?” Imelda whispered to Magda beside her.

“He’s just talking about finding an alternate route out.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Well, that depends on how long the climb is,” Magda said.

Chapter Eighteen

The spiders were kind enough to spin their webbing in long slopes rather than as a ladder, the substance connecting several outcroppings of rock as they snaked their way through the vast assembly of cogs and gears that filled the chasm, the party having to duck on occasion to avoid gouts of steam escaping from one of the thousands of pipes that worked their way through the assembly like veins through flesh. They stretched on forever, the elaborate system showing the depth of craftsmanship available to the people who had followed Magda. Their civilisation had been one of technical prowess, along with magical skill, though it was fair to say they had been gifted a significant advantage thanks to their benefactor.

The webbing pathway felt incredibly strong underfoot, and Gareth once again found himself wishing he could get the people of Wildermount to accept the spiders. The sheer value of having the creatures on side was evident, they could spin buildings and structures with ease, things that could withstand the elements better than any stone. Instead, the creatures were forced to live below ground, drinking what mana they could find and avoiding the people above out of fear. It didn’t quite feel right. The spiders themselves didn’t seem too concerned about it, content to live out their lives in the cavern provided they weren’t being interrupted by duellists seeking adventure constantly. Hopefully, Gareth would get back to the guild before the reward increased again and enticed another group to explore the ruins.

“I wonder why they built this system instead of just using Eternal,” Gareth said as he ducked beneath a gear. The sheer size and complexity of the mechanism were astounding. It couldn’t simply be for raising the enormous statues of Magdalena that flanked the bridge. “Seems like that would be easier.”

“For the same reason that everything in Wildermount isn’t runic,” Sarkuran said. “Magic is difficult to work with at the best of times, and when your magic is rewriting the fundamental rules of reality, it’s possible even worse. I have to imagine that the people capable of using it simply couldn’t be everywhere. Besides I suspect this system had other uses back in the heyday of the people who once lived here. This is one small part of the ruins, after all. The other passage to us was blocked by rubble when we entered. Perhaps this system is generating running water, or heating, or any number of things.”

“Well obviously, any people I’m involved with are going to live in comfort,” Magda said. She was smiling wide, beaming with pride at what her followers had accomplished, largely because it reflected well on her.

“Is that why we live above a noisy bar and I have that leak in the corner when it rains?” Gareth said.

“Better than living in the streets, or in the shantytown outside the walls.”

“She does have a point,” Sarkuran said.

“It’s not too bad living outside. I’ve lived outside all my life.” Imelda was leading the way across the webbing, her sunstone held out in her hands. After exploring the tower and its omnipresent glowing crystals delving back into darkness was disorientating.

“Honestly I would take one of those wyrmkin tents over my room at the Troll. They were pretty plush inside, and I bet they actually manage to keep the rain out.” Gareth ran his hand against a slowly turning gear as they passed. The metal was pleasingly cold beneath his fingers.

“I can’t imagine that water gets into the tower,” Magda said. “I’m assuming we’re all going to get our own rooms in there. Eventually.”

“We could all have our own floor, honestly. Staying there long term is going to be a pain though, with the teleporting back and forth, even with the item that Henig gave us. Worth it mind. Exploring through the other portals should expand our possibilities in a pretty crazy way. We’ll be the only duellists who can cross continents in a few days. Imagine the kind of quests we can take from the guild now.”

“You would have to get them to believe you first.”

Gareth shrugged; it didn’t seem like a major problem. From the few times he had examined the board quests outside of the kingdom were rare anyway. He had seen two total during his visits, but he imagined that completing one of them in half the time would quickly make a name for the party. Despite his newfound goal of toppling the gods, part of him still wanted to be known as a hero. Everyone wanted recognition, and Gareth thought anyone who claimed otherwise was lying.

“At the very least the lands surrounding the tower should form an excellent source of experience points,” Sarkuran said. His eyes were dancing about, a tell-tale sign he was glancing at one of his menus quickly. “The beasts there seemed very aggressive, and whilst they kept their distance from the tower it would be prudent to try and thin their numbers in the forest nearby. If only to make travelling between the teleport platforms easier for us.”

“Good point,” Gareth said, even if the thought of fighting more dinosaurs didn’t thrill him. It felt like a betrayal to his six-year-old self. “We probably shouldn’t go too crazy though, there’s bound to be some stronger stuff out there. There’s always a bigger predator.” Gareth’s mind brought the creature he had seen through the window of the tower to the forefront, a grand beast that looked like what he imagined when he thought of apex dinosaurs, though covered in feathers. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to that.

“Well, of course, we shouldn’t upset the ecosystem of that place. It has apparently existed undisturbed for untold aeons. It would be a shame if we were to cause it to cease to be. I have to wonder exactly where on Acamida it is. Perhaps when we’re next at the tower Henig can show us on a map.”

“A map’s probably no good, things will be very different now to how they were when the tower was built. Continental drift and all that. We know it has to be closer to the equator because of the rainforest. That’s probably a good place to start.”

“You think he’ll be ok?” Magda said. “Henig that is.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Gareth felt stone beneath his feet at the crystal walkway reached another outcropping of stone. “He’s been guarding that tower for who knows how long. I’m sure some more time isn’t going to hurt him. If he even can be hurt. He’s a lich, right? Unless the tower gets smashed, he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, I just don’t like leaving someone on their own. I suppose I was the person who left him on his own, to begin with. It’s so weird, knowing there was this whole other me at some point. How am I supposed to live up to that? What the past me accomplished. It feels like she was this whole other person.”

“Maybe she was? In a way. It’s nature versus nurture, isn’t it? I mean she sounds like she was selfless and benevolent. That’s not exactly you right now.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean!” Magda roared, her words echoing through the darkness.

“He’s got a point,” Sarkuran said, not seemingly wishing to join Gareth in the hole he had dug. “You can certainly be a little selfish. And self-centred. And petty.”

“I would just stop, Sarkuran,” Imelda said, crouching so her horns didn’t hit a gear. “Before she pushes you off the side. I would hate to have to go looking for your body at the bottom.”

***

Mitchell’s grin spread from ear to ear. He hadn’t expected the duellists would return from within the ruins, after all, none of the previous groups had come back and the people who stood before him hadn’t seemed like a particularly adept group of adventurers.  He was glad to be surprised, the presence of the ruins wasn’t a major worry for Mitchell, after all no monsters had come pouring out, but it was something this lord had been keen to get resolved. It meant less frustrated letters sent his way.

“I thought for a bit there you were goners. After we heard those screams up here, we karked ourselves a little. Thought we had lost another group. Sending people to their deaths isn’t exactly the nicest feeling, even if those same people signed up to it. It’ll be a bloody good thing it's all sorted now.” Mitchell’s smile dropped as he realised something. “It is sorted, right? You didn’t just back out?”

“Yep. All sorted. Kind of. There’s a big cavern directly below the mine. If you keep digging down, you’re going to breach it and the whole thing would fall in. So, uh, sorry we need to be the bearers of bad news,” Gareth said. The statement had been intended to protect the spiders more than the miners, he suspected that they would realise the cavern was there before it was any real risk to them, but it was technically the truth, which had to count for something.

“Ah, that’s not such an issue. We’ve got a fair way to go digging out this level. A long few years at least. That’s a problem for the next foreman, not me. No mine lasts forever anyway. What was with the screams?”

“It’s not screams. It’s steam escaping in the cavern down below. The tunnel that you found connects to there and it’s the sound bouncing around as it makes its way to the surface. A trick of the ear, basically.”

“So, what happened to the others then?”

“Monsters,” Imelda said. Like the story about the cavern, it was the truth. Unable to speak with the spiders the other duellists had gotten into ultimately losing battles. The bodies had been tossed by the spiders into the depths of the chasm, lost to the darkness deep within Acamida. “Don’t worry, we dealt with them, but it's best to seal up the entrance you found. There’s another way out, but it took us a few hours to walk from there to here. We closed the other route, but there could be more. Better safe than sorry.”

It was the first lie that the party had told Mitchell. The secondary exit the spiders had led them to was a series of tunnels that climbed up through a system of caves to an exit at the base of the nearby mountain. It had been free of monsters as they had passed through and getting from there to the ruins was only possible thanks to the spider’s makeshift walkways. The party had left it open so they could return to the ruins in secret.

“Glad to hear it. Sounds like you’ve done everything we need you to do,” Mitchell said. “Should be all good to head back to the guild and hand the quest in. You, uh, find anything in those ruins? Anything that we should be forwarding on to his lordship?”

“Nothing. Totally empty,” Gareth said.

“Didn’t think so,” Mitchell said, with a wry smile. He extended a hand over the table which Gareth took. Mitchell shook it heartily. “Good working with you. If we ever have anything else, I’ll be sure to have the guild pass it on to you. You competing in the tournament coming up?”

“Yep,” Magda said. “We all are.”

“Well, looks like I’ve got someone to place my bets on. You lot are more capable than you look.”

***

Mike tried to fight back his gagging reflex. It had been two days since his encounter with the person now known widely as the Lich thanks to the posters plastered on walls across the tier. He had been fetched and dragged to the current crime scene by one of his guards, the officer insistent that it could be another incident involving the wanted fugitive. Mike had suspected otherwise, if the Lich was smart, they would be laying low. They had probably already tossed away the mask and outfit, letting their alter ego take the blame.

This wasn’t their doing. Mike knew that. The Lich had hit family targets, but they had never done more than leave the goons they found there with bruises or a broken bone. They certainly hadn’t killed anyone. Nothing about the gory sight before him fitted the way the Lich operated. There was no skull painted on the wall, no tell-tale dragged footprints of zombies, and as far as Mike knew the bookstore wasn’t a family-run operation.

“Local crushers say they found the bodies a few hours ago when a particularly zealous reader forced their way through the locked door to collect their package. Personally, I reckon they’ve been like this for a while before that. On account of all the flies,” Mavis said. The wyrmkin was taking the sight before her remarkably well.

The ship had been run by a middle-aged married couple, not that it was possible to tell with what remained of them. They had been torn apart in a dozen different pieces each, their entrails dragged across the floor into an elaborate pattern. Streaks of blood were smeared over the nearby bookcases, staining the spines of the tomes they stretched across.

“What about the person who broke the door open? Are they a suspect here?” Mike said, turning away from the stomach-churning sight for a moment.

“Apparently they were after this,” Mavis said, picking a thin pamphlet up off a wooden counter near the doorway. It was only a few pages thick, its cover a simple black sketched image. There was a title across the top in bold letters.

“Of the Lich and his various deeds, a tale of daring and adventure,” Mike said, reading from the cover. “A copper dreadful?”

“The guy who forced the door is a collector. You know, one of those guys who lives in his mother’s basement still and has shelves full of those god awful dolls you can buy at the market. The cheap tacky ones people make of the heroes from these books? The kind of guys who have barely even seen a woman, let alone know how to act properly around her.”

“That sounds like personal experience, Sergeant.”

“More than once, unfortunately, Captain. Either way, one of the crusher’s has already checked out his alibi. He was home sorting his books all of this morning and yesterday, and his mother can confirm that.”

Mike took the pamphlet from Mavis and flicked it open, his eyes dancing across the text. “This is exactly what I was worried about. It’s not even been more than a few days and already people are making this guy out to be some kind of folk hero. The longer this goes on the worse it’ll get. We’ll have copycats before long, idiots who think they can step in and claim the glory.” He tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper hitting the wooden counter and sliding across the polished mahogany. “Still, you’ve got to appreciate the speed that they put that thing out. That’s real, what’s it called?”

“Naked greed?”

“Nah, entrepreneurial spirit.”

“Same thing,” Mavis said with a shrug. “Or close enough anyway. You want us to question the author?”

“Nah, I reckon if we went looking, we would find fifteen different people doing the same thing. It’s just someone chancing their arm on the next big fad.” Mike reached up and removed his helmet, setting it on the table nearby. He began to rub his temples. “You know, this is the last thing we need right? Two psychopaths running around causing trouble.”

“I mean, I would rather someone like the Lich than this. Is it just me or does this look like a shape to you?”

“I’d rather not look at it at all,” Mike said. He turned to face the mess anyway. Having a weak stomach wasn’t something becoming of a guard captain. Mavis was right. The way that the entrails had been stretched across the floor did look familiar. It was a rune, though Mike had no idea what it meant. Runic magic was beyond him, it required learning a bewildering array of magical symbols that required exacting shapes, the finest runecrafters master sculptors as well as purveyors of a dead language. “We better get an expert in, that’s a rune. Nobody touches this until they’ve seen it.”

“We could just draw it for them, Cap. Probably not a good idea to be exposing a civilian to something like this.”

“No. We get one line wrong and it means something else entirely. It sucks, but they’ll need to come here. Probably best if I fetch them, actually. That way I can kind of ease them into it. You stay here and keep an eye on this lot,” Mike said, picking his helmet back up. “How on Acamida am I going to explain this to the main office?”

***

Gareth sauntered up towards the desk at the far end of the duellist’s guild, the quest slip held firmly in his hand. The enchanted sheet of paper updated itself automatically with his achievements and was now proudly proclaiming that the ruins had been made safe. It also spoke of the tower, but Gareth had already thought about how he was going to explain that away.

“Well, look at this. From the swagger you got there I’m assuming you were successful,” John said. He was sitting with his feet up on the desk, the guildhall unusually quiet. “Did you manage to complete the quest?”

“Sure did,” Gareth said, holding the slip aloft. “And then some.”

John sat up, allowing his feet to drop off the desk and onto the ground. “You don’t say? Hah, there’s going to be some very unhappy clerks once they find out. Not me though. I decided to put a little bet on you living in the end. Something about the way you were so damn sure.”

“Well, it wasn’t easy, but we got it done,” Imelda said. “Maybe people shouldn’t underestimate the new batch of duellists so quickly.”

“That they shouldn’t. Evidently.” John examined the slip in his hands. “What’s this about a tower?”

“Oh, that’s what was under the mines, in the ruins,” Gareth said. “The remains of a tower. Not much in there of note, a few monsters and a trap or two. The big thing is that the mine is directly over a huge cavern. We sealed off the entrances so no monsters can get out but digging down is off the table. We told the foreman as much.”

“Nicely done,” John said, opening a drawer and fishing around inside. “Everything looks to be in order.” He pulled a stamp from the drawer and slammed it onto the slip of paper.

Quest Complete. Explore the ruins discovered in the crystal mine. Ensure the safety of the miners and remove any threats.

Optional objective completed. Explore the Tower.

3600 experience points gained.

Level up – Level 19 reached.

Four skill points gained.

Level up – Level 20 reached.

Current Exp 1075/1581

Five skill points gained.

One feat unlocked.

Gareth couldn’t help but smile at the rush of notifications. He had jumped up two levels from the quest rewards and was well on his way to his third. He would spend his new upgrades later, no doubt picking a new feat would provide him with some interesting option, and with nine skill points available he would be in for some serious improvement. From the look on the faces of the others, they had received a similar barrage of information.

“Right, give me a minute. I’ll have to go collect your payment from the back considering the amount. That and your winnings from the pool.” John stood up, pushing back his stool with a loud squeak. “Actually, give me more than a minute, might have to prise the coin out of some people’s fingers.”

The clerk walked towards the door at the back of the counters, vanishing into the office beyond. From the loud groan that escaped from the wood his news of the party’s return wasn’t a welcome one.

“That was a lot of experience points,” Magda said. “Like, a lot. I gained two levels, off that. When you think about it, we gained levels during the quest itself. More quests like this, please. Less of the personal crisis in the middle of it though…”

“Yeah, well hopefully we can really get things rolling now. We need to start looking at adding cards to our decks ready for the tournament. Up until now, we’ve just been putting in what we think seems good. Considering we need forty cards we have to start properly thinking about deckbuilding now. Synergy and that kind of thing.” Gareth turned and leant against the counter, his eyes taking in the nearly empty guildhall. “Hey!” he cried out, directing his words to a duellist sitting at a nearby table. “Where is everyone?”

“Either out on a quest or practising for the tournament. They reckon this one will be the biggest ever. Makes sense, there’s so many new folks like us who want to take part,” the duellist replied. They had a meal sat before them, a steaming pile of meat and gravy that smelt delicious.

“Right, that makes sense,” Gareth said. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” the duellist said, turning around in their seat. “Did I hear right; you guys did that contract at the mine up north?”

“It is,” Imelda said, suspicious of the man’s intent. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just impressive. Everyone I know has been avoiding that quest like the plague. Too good to be true, you know. I’d even heard that a couple of people have gone missing trying to do it.”

“Not so much missing as dead, unfortunately,” Sarkuran said. “Though I will say that particular danger had been dealt with.”

“Good to know. You lot entering the tournament?” the duelist said.

“That is the plan, yes,” Sarkuran said with a nod.

“Well, good luck with that. Me personally, I’ll be giving it a miss. Not keen on the crowds, and someone needs to be doing quests whilst people are busy playing pretend. It’s a good chance to make some easy cash. Supply and demand and all that.”

Gareth thought that the duellist had a point but giving up the opportunity of the tournament wasn’t an option. The duellist was giving up long term gains for short term profits. It wasn’t hard to see the appeal, most of the newer members of the guild have never seen more than two gold coins in one place their whole lives. It was why there had been a massive rush to join when decks had first started appearing, it was their ticket out of poverty.

“Right, sorry about the wait,” John said, emerging from the office with the pace of a man who was trying to evade some angry people. “Two thousand gold pieces from the quest, and another two hundred from the pool. Like I said, not a popular result.” He dropped the coin pouch onto the counter and took his seat on the stool.

“Thanks,” Gareth said as he pocketed the pouch. It was a good start, enough to pay for more rooms in the Troll and cover their tournament entrance fee. Hopefully, the coins recovered from the tower and the spare cards they had acquired would fetch a decent price.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got some reading to do,” John said, picking up a broadsheet newspaper with a few dog eared corners.

Gareth wasn’t surprised to see the concept existed in Acamida. He knew printing was a thing, runic magic making the technology arrive earlier than it should of, at least compared to Earth. What shocked him was the headline on the front page.

“What, exactly, is the Lich?”

Chapter Nineteen

As they walked through the streets of Wildermount towards the antique shop owned by their contact Felonious, Gareth took the opportunity to open his menu. He already had a good idea of what he wanted to spend his points on, but it was what feats he had available that grabbed his interest. The abilities ranged from useful to build defining, and Gareth was excited to see what he had to choose from. The concept of feats, and to a lesser extent skills, thrilled Gareth. It was one of the big things he loved about card games, the sense that a deck was uniquely yours, even if you had copied what cards to use from online. Skills and feats made that literally true, no two duellists the same.

He glanced at the feats he already had. Open the Reliquary let him play his first relic for free, a useful power to have in combination with his war banners. Strength in Numbers rewarded him with a boost to all his monsters’ statistics provided he stuck with a single type, the restriction well worth the increase. Recycle was his most recent acquisition, one that allowed him to weaken his shield intentionally to draw two cards. It wasn’t as flashy as the others, but the ability to get more cards was inherently powerful, especially for a deck like Gareth’s that relied on throwing out as many monsters as possible as fast as possible and boosting their power.

Selecting the correct menu, the feats available to Gareth appeared before him. The ones he had unlocked to choose from at his previous level ups were still there, along with a brand new one, giving him a wide selection to choose from.

Defender of the people: Gain an additional ten per cent experience points from quests completed in Wildermount.

Master Duellist: Gain five ranks in the duellist skill.

Unsummon: Once per turn you may discard one of your summoned creatures from the battlefield.

Glimpse the Future: Discard one card, then look at the top three cards of your deck and return them in any order.

Gareth’s newest feat was interesting, though he wasn’t sure exactly how much use it was. Glimpse would allow him more consistency in what he was drawing but discard a card to activate it was a steep price to pay. To make things worse Gareth already had cards that would shuffle his deck if played, defeating the point a little. He wrote it off for now, though it was something he would consider for the future.

That left three to choose from. Unsummon was useful because it freed up the mana of a summoned monster he no longer needed, but as mana didn’t immediately regenerate, Gareth would see a delay before he gained any benefit from it. Defender of the People was good, the extra experience points would add up in the long run, but it required sticking around Wildermount for an extended period to make the most of it. Gareth wondered what the limit was on that, would their foray into the tower have counted because they collected the quest in Wildermount, to begin with?

Master Duellist was the one that caught his eye. It wasn’t an impressive looking power, after all, it simply gave him a big dump of skill points into a single skill, but the duellist skill increased the strength of his monsters during formal duels. Considering the tournament was coming up in three weeks, having a few extra points in attack or defence could be key, especially when the duellist skill had a percentage increase, not a flat rate. That meant the effect was better on already strong monsters. Gareth made a mental note to test if the bonus was before or after his boosting effects as he selected the feat.

With a thought, he closed the feats menu and moved to his skills. A smile crept across Gareth’s lips as he saw the skill points sitting in the duellist skill. He had nine more to spend thanks to his two levels gained from handing in his quest. Unlike the previous levels had gained these weren’t spoken for, he had already increased his deck limit ready for the tournament.

The first four points were easy to spend. Gareth had sixteen points in his mana skill and gained an additional mana orb for every five ranks in the skill. Putting four points would bring him to twenty and give him his sixth mana orb. More mana meant playing more powerful cards more quickly. It was the single biggest boost he could give to his strength. He considered for a moment putting his five remaining points into the same skill but decided against it. Whilst more mana would always be better, it wouldn’t make any difference if he didn’t have any cards to use it on. He put the last five points into his Deck Limit skill, with needing to fit forty cards in Gareth was certain he would bump up against that limitation at some point.

His points spent; Gareth closed his menu. The number of people on the streets was starting to increase and he was keenly aware that he was walking ahead without truly looking, his mind absorbed by the menus before him. It wasn’t too different from people back on Earth staring at their phones as they tried to walk.

Something caught his eye as he passed it, a folding wooden sign with a newspaper tacked to it. Across the front was another headline speculating on the identity of the Lich. Gareth wasn’t surprised that a vigilante had arisen from what he was assuming was the wave of duellist to which he belonged. A people who had never known power had suddenly found themselves with magic itself at their fingertips. That someone had decided to take the law into their own hands was almost an inevitability.

The fact that Gareth had actually met a real lich sounded like the universe laughing at his expense. The entire thing was a massive coincidence, and he couldn’t help but feel some level of admiration for whoever was behind the skull mask of the Lich. They had been operating on the lowest tier of the city, and whilst Gareth hadn’t experienced it himself the poorest of the city had to be the worst hit by crime. From the sheer volume of people hawking pamphlets at street corners, the Lich had sparked the collective imagination of Wildermount.

“Ok, I will head inside and sell the coins we have,” Sarkuran said. They had reached Felonious’s store, Sarkuran leaning with his hand on the door. Through the window, the massive owner waved a clawed hand, a tiny pair of glasses resting on his long furred nose. “I suggest you go and register us for the tournament.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his guild card, handing the slip to Gareth. “We’ll meet at the market in an hour? I don’t think it will take that long to convince our musteling friend to part with his coin.”

Gareth nodded in agreement. Sarkuran was the closest thing they had to an expert, even if the coins did predate him. He passed his backpack over, the coins held safely within. “Sounds like a plan. Imelda, you go with him, Magda comes with me?”

“Fine with me,” Imelda said. She had been willing to give Sarkuran more freedom with his actions since the siege, but she was still technically duty-bound to watch him. She passed her guild card over to Gareth. “I’ll make sure that he doesn’t take some absurd commission.”

“I would never!” Sarkuran said, turning his head away from Imelda and pushing the door open slightly. “It would only ever be one that was fair for the amount of work I had put in.” He vanished through the heavy wooden door, Imelda following behind him.

“I kind of feel sorry for Felonious,” Magda said as the door closed. “So, where are we supposed to register?”

“At the main stadium, apparently,” Gareth said with a shrug. “Come on, I’d rather not be walking around with all this coin in my pocket.”

***

The stadium was an impressive building, one that rose high above the structures around it, even here in one of the highest tiers of Wildermount. It reminded Gareth of the great colosseum of Rome, yet somehow even more impressive for the elaborate stained glass that filled hundreds of windows that ran around the outside, the images depicting spells and monsters. Great pennants billowed in the wind, long sheets of the finest cloth hanging between the windows. A massive set of iron gates dominated the building at street level, their presence meant to create a sense of grandeur rather than actually be used. A series of wooden signs were directing tournament entrants towards a much smaller and far more modest wooden door just to the right of the main gate.

“I have to admit, it’s not as grand as I thought it would be,” Magda said as she walked alongside Gareth. “I expected something…taller.”

“I think maybe our recent adventures might be colouring your expectations.” Gareth knew that Magda’s statement had been bait, but he was willing to humour her for the time being. Recent revelations had to be weighing heavily upon her, and Gareth didn’t want to do anything that might upset Magda further.

“You’re right, it’s nothing compared to my tower, is it?”

“No, of course not.” It hadn’t escaped Garth’s notice that it had suddenly become Magda’s tower. The Magdalena of myth seemed like an entirely different person to the one walking next to him. In a way she was, the being described by Henig simply didn’t exist anymore, all memories of it erased.

“My tower has a more classical elegance to it, don’t you think?”

“Sure does.”

“Are you just agreeing with me for the sake of it?”

“No, of course not!” Gareth said, frantically searching his mind for a way out. “I mean, this place isn’t surrounded by deadly monsters, so it has that going for it.”

“I guess so. Looks like there’s a small queue ahead.”

Gareth was surprised, he assumed most people would have already registered for the tournament. The sheer demand for spots had to be a lot higher than he had expected. He shouldn’t have been surprised; he couldn’t have been the only duellist looking to leverage success in the tournament into renown. Gareth had wanted to take part originally as a step towards proving himself a hero, now it was just another step towards getting strong. A desire for glory had become a desire for vengeance, a fire growing in his belly daily.

“Doesn’t look like too many people,” Gareth said, craning his neck to try and gauge how many were waiting. “We should still be back at the market in time to meet the others. Hopefully. I’m assuming there’s not too much paperwork.”

“You mortals do love paperwork, for some reason.”

“Eh, if we do it’s your fault. You made us.”

Magda went to say something, then stopped, her mouth hanging open. Gareth wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Gareth said. “It’s not like all the woes of existence can be traced back to you or anything like that. Sounds like you did your best. You even set up a way of watching over everything. Of course, that kind of backfired, but well, still not your fault.”

“You know, I wasn’t worried about that. Before at least. Thanks. Real helpful of you.” Magda crossed her arms and took her place at the back of the line.

“I was only trying to help,” Gareth said. “Never mind.”

“No, I’m sorry, you’re doing your best.” Magda released her arms, allowing them to drop to her sides.

“We should drop this conversation for now.” Gareth reached into his pocket and clasped his hand around the coin purse within. The guild had been good enough to provide the highest denomination of gold coins possible, and even then, the pouch bulged in his pocket. “Too many ears.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of jibe!” The person directly in front of Gareth and Magda spun around, a long scar across his face that slid up over where an ear should be and ending on his bald head.

“No! Not at all! Sorry, we were talking about something else. I didn’t realise-”

“What, that I could hear you!”

“Look we don’t want any trouble, but if you want to go, then I’m willing to step up!” Magda had squared off against the far taller man, her eyes blazing with a fire that Gareth had never seen.

“Nah, not worth it. Ain’t going to fight a woman.” The man turned around, apparently done with the conversation.

“Line’s moving,” Gareth said as he took a step forward. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, not wanting to inadvertently anger the man in front again. He was quietly impressed how Magda had stared down someone to who she was only chest height. She had always been self-assured, but now she had found some new well of strength from deep within her.

The line moved quicker than Gareth expected, and he soon found himself standing by a simple folding table within the small room behind the wooden door dwarfed by its great cousin. Sat behind the counter was a man wearing a bright green tabard over his simple brown shirt, the colour the kind of thing no one would be happy to wear unless forced. He looked bored; the desk next to him covered with stacks of paper. Directly behind him were two armed guards, no doubt there to protect the vast sums of money that had to be changing hands.

“Name?” the man behind the desk said, not even looking up at Gareth.

“Gareth Jones, but I’m actually here to enter my whole party.” Gareth held up his friends’ guild cards along with his own.

“You know you have to pay for each entrant separately, right?”

“Of course? That seemed obvious.”

“Yeah well, there’s what, four guild cards there? You got a thousand gold just burning a hole in your pocket? Pull the other one.”

Gareth dropped the coin pouch that had been resting in his pocket onto the table, the coins inside clinking loudly as they landed. The clerk leant over the desk and tentatively pulled the drawstrings open. The coins inside gleamed under the oil lamp that illuminated the room.

“Well, I stand corrected. Brave lad walking through town with that much cash on you, especially with what’s been going on recently,” the clerk said. He took the pouch and passed it to one of the guards who started to count the coins within.

“You mean the Lich?” Magda said. “I thought he was stopping crimes.”

“You ain’t Wildermount locals, are you?”

“No, we’re not. We’re new to the city, moved here when we found our decks.” Gareth’s statement was technically true, though he wondered how long he would have to live in the city before he was considered a local.

“Right. The city is like a living thing, you see. In balance with itself. As soon as someone comes round poking their nose where it doesn’t belong it's going to upset that balance. Mark my words, this guy thinks he’s making things better, but in the long run, it’s only going to make things worse for the rest of us. The families aren’t going to sit by and let some masked idiot mess things up for them.” The clerk reached forward and snatched the guild cards from Gareth’s hand.

“Families?” Gareth said.

“Yeah, you know, the groups that control crime in the city? You are new here, huh?” Laying the guild cards out on the desk, the clerk took a slip of paper from one of the stacks and then picked up a quill and dipped the end in a pot of ink resting on his makeshift desk.

“Ah, right, I get it.” It seemed no matter what world you were on some things never changed. Gangs loved to pattern themselves as families back on Earth, and Gareth assumed that the ones on Acamida also liked to pride themselves on some code of honour that they never actually followed. “At least I have this, right?” he said, tapping his deck box. “Anyone tries to mug me they’ll get a nice surprise.”

“You think so?” the clerk said, picking up Gareth’s guild card and showing it to him. He tapped at where it listed his affinity. “Goblins? You might as well be threatening the mugger with a nice cup of tea and some biscuits.”

“I do alright.”

“He does,” Magda said, feeling the need to stick up for her friend. “Gareth’s probably the best duellist in our group.”

“That doesn’t bode well for the rest of you, honestly.” The clerk picked up the sheets of paper he had been filling in and stacked them atop one of the piles. “Assassins, angels and nightmares are all powerful affinities. Pretty sure they’ve each won a tournament at some point, probably more than one. If the guy with goblins is the best of you, then I wouldn’t be on you getting very far in this tournament.”

***

Mike leant back in his chair, examining the sketches he had pinned to the wall of his office. The thin plaster covering the wall was filled with thousands of tiny holes where he had done the same for previous cases. Mike liked to lay everything out in front of him, it made it easier to see the connections. At the moment his wall was divided between two cases, a few roughly torn strips of newspaper acting as a barrier between them. On the left was everything relating to the Lich case, his reports, a sketch of the suspect and a small selection of newspaper articles and copper dreadfuls. He doubted there was anything of substance to them, but there was always the outside chance a kernel of truth could sneak in. One of the clippings decreed that the Lich could shoot beams of lightning from his eyes and that was a newspaper. The pamphlets were worse.

On the right-hand side was everything related to the murders. The expert on runes that Mike had found had been thoroughly traumatised by the sight but had at least been able to identify the rune. He had called it a linking rune, one that sat in between two others to bond them together. Mike’s attention had drifted in and out of the explanation, but from what he could gather if you wanted to make a sword sheathed in flame, it wasn’t enough to just stamp the rune for fire on it. You had to have a rune for the heat of the flames, their shape, as well as determining a limit so the fire didn’t spread up the weapon’s grip and burn the wielder. Then, each of those runes needed to have a linking rune between them so the magic knew they were in relation to one another. This explanation had drawn a blank stare from Mike until the runecrafter had simply told him it was the magical equivalent of the word and.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Mike said, his eyes fixed on the wall.

“No offence Captain, but I would worry about you if you thought it did,” Mavis said. She set down a mug on the table, bringing Mike his fifth cup of coda. The ground beans used to make it grew south of the city and was one of the Seahaven’s main exports. It had a mild stimulating effect, one that made it a popular breakfast drink.

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve got this private theory about crime, Sergeant. Every one I’ve ever investigated has three things to it, three core pillars that always apply. I call them means, motive, and opportunity. Basically, there’s always a way to do it, a reason to do it, and then the chance to do it. Think about the Lich, right? Being a duellist gives him the means, he’s probably looking to steal money rather than being some hero, that’s your motive, and well for his last attempt we gave him the opportunity, didn’t we?”

“I think I get it,” Mavis said. She put the mug down and wandered towards the wall, touching the bottom of a sketch of the rune that had been spelt out in organs. “We have no leads on any of those things with this.”

“Not quite true, one of the crushers found a butcher’s cleaver covered in blood in an alleyway nearby. That’s our murder weapon I’m guessing. And presumably, they just walked into the store, locked the door behind them and went to work. It’s the motive that’s baffling. Why? There has to be a reason.”

“Whoever did this could just be insane. I don’t think trying to find reason in the acts of a madman is particularly healthy.” Mavis turned away from the collection of sketches and leant against the wall. “For all we know, whoever did this was being told what to do by voices or something.”

“No. It’s deliberate, it has to be. If this was a madman then the rune would probably be nonsense. The placement here is exacting, there was deliberate planning at work here. They were trying to do something. Maybe they ran out of…materials before they could finish writing out whatever runes they had planned.” Mike picked up his mug and took a deep breath, letting the warm steam fill his nostrils.

“Why not start with the first rune in the sequence then?”

“See, now you’re thinking along the right lines. This raises a worrying possibility.”

“If this is the second part of a sequence, then somewhere in the city there’s another murder that starts it,” Mavis said. She let out a long sigh. “We’ve got men already knocking doors around the bookshop. I would have thought we would have stumbled onto another murder already if it's nearby, which means it can’t be, can it? Somewhere in Wildermount, there’s a good chance there’s a body cut up into little pieces and spread out to spell…something.”

“It’s our job to find out what that is. The Lich can wait, they’ve gone to ground already. We’ll probably never know who it really was,” Mike said. He took a long slurp of his coda, the warming liquid pleasing as it travelled down his throat.

“Well, you never know, maybe we should try and find the Lich and ask them to help us. Maybe put up a big sign or some posters or something. Wanted, crime-fighting vigilante to solve a gruesome murder. It’s not like main office has given us much help with this. We could use the extra manpower.”

“You’ll get used to that,” Mike said, putting the mug back down on the table with a clack. The wood was stained with hundreds of rings where he had constantly refused to use a coaster. “As long as whatever happens down here doesn’t spill into the upper tiers, main office doesn’t much care. Of course, it’s always possible that whoever did this started up there...” Mike let out a long sigh. He knew that he would have to go to the main office with his helmet in hand and explain there could a killer prowling the upper tiers. Nothing about the deaths of the bookstore owners would link it exclusively to his tier.

“Want me to get your helmet?” Mavis said.

“Yeah, I better look the part. I’m not going to be popular at main office. They probably blame me for this Lich thing, and now I’m bringing this to their door. You never know, Mavis. Maybe when I come back there could be an opening for captain you could apply for.”

Chapter Twenty

With the tournament registration complete quicker than they had expected, Gareth and Magda had taken the opportunity to complete one other task that before meeting up with their friends at the market. After getting directions from the clerk at the stadium, they had wandered the streets for fifteen minutes until they had reached the local guard station. Letting them know about the small group of cultists they had encountered and dealt with just outside the city seemed like a good idea, letting that kind of thing fester probably wasn’t a smart in the long run. Especially now Gareth knew that nightmares were the tattered remnants of souls stripped of their link to the divine. Angry revenants taking unfathomable forms as they slipped into true madness.

The sheer danger these beings possessed, their eternal desires nothing more than to exact vengeance on a reality that had failed them, seemed lost on the woman behind the desk of the guard office. She was wearing the blue tabard that marked her as a guard, though she wasn’t wearing any armour, the protective layers not necessary for desk duty. The desk was raised off the ground, metal bars separating it from the small foyer that the public has access to. The woman was leaving one elbow on the desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her open hand. With the other, she was turning the pages on a cheap paperback that looked like it had lived a rough life.

“Listen, hun, that’s all very scary and dangerous,” she said, her voice oddly calm despite her words. Her tone was betraying her true feelings. “But we’re the city guards. The city. Outside the walls isn’t our problem, strictly speaking.”

“But the farm this was at isn’t even a day’s walk away. You can probably see it from the wall.” Gareth gestured towards his right with his arm, as if he were somehow standing atop the outer wall and pointing towards the small stone building.

“Look, if we start getting involved in everything that happens outside the city, we’re just going to run out of manpower in a day or two. Anything that happens out there is the responsibility of the lord that owns the land, they’re the law there. Some of them hire people to enforce things, some don’t, it depends on who it is. Don’t get me wrong, most lords don’t want crime going on in their lands, it’s not exactly taxable income, you see?”

“There’s crime, then there’s what these people were doing,” Magda said. She was having to stand on her tip-toes to see over the top of the desk. “They were summoning nightmares. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“It does and it doesn’t. You see it every so often, but it always ends one way, with a few dead cultists and maybe one or two minor creatures loose. Always seemed stupid to me, it’s like trying to bake bread by holding dough in your hands and jumping into the oven. You’re going to get burned.” The guard closed her book and slid it to the side of her desk. “Besides it sounds like the problem has already been sorted. You took care of the creatures, right?”

Gareth nodded. “Well, yeah…”

“Then case closed. Not much else to do here.”

“What about any other cult members? You know, co-conspirators and that kind of thing.”

“Look if it makes you feel better, I’ll write up a report and get it sent out to the lord of those lands. Truth is these kinds of things never involve more than one or two people, honestly. Most aren’t that stupid or desperate. If summoning monsters was so easy don’t you think they would be everywhere?” the guard said. She plucked a quill from behind her ear and dipped it into a pot of ink that Gareth couldn’t see, the only evidence she had done it the slick black liquid dripping from the end of the white feather.

“Fine, thanks anyway,” Gareth said. He didn’t want to correct the guard. After all summoned monsters were everywhere, but that wasn’t exactly what she meant. Nightmares brought into Acamida were uncontrollable beasts, no matter what the cultists enabling their transition believed. Creatures that sprang from cards were constructs of pure mana, beings born of their summoner’s ties to the world. In a way, they were extensions of their creator, rather than beings with a mind of their own. At least, that’s what Gareth had been told, but there were occasional glimmers of personality that suggested to him that his goblins were a little more independent than they seemed.

“Don’t get me wrong, hun. We’re grateful you had the forethought to report this. Most duellists would have just grabbed the experience points and moved on with their day, honestly. I’m surprised more don’t. They have to wonder where quests come from. It’s not like you can clear out a nest of trolls without someone reporting it being there to begin with.” The guard shrugged as she scribbled something onto a piece of parchment. “I’ll make sure this gets to the right person. You entering the tournament?”

“Yeah, we just sorted out the sign-ups now actually,” Magda said. She had finally given up on trying to see over the desk, her toes hurting from where they had been propping her up. “We’re looking forward to it.”

“Amateur division? No offence meant there, just if you were pro, I would recognise you. Everyone would.”

“Yeah amateur division, for now anyway,” Gareth said. The entire point of taking part in the tournament, aside from earning experience points, was to boost the renown of his group and increase the quality of quests offered to them. It hadn’t occurred to him that it would come with fame amongst the general populace. Gareth smiled as he imagined his face sketched hastily onto a newspaper rather than the grim skull face of the Lich. He would have to grab a copy of a paper to show Henig when they travelled back to the tower. Gareth assumed the actual lich would get a kick out of it.

“Well, good luck. Personally, I think the amateur division this season is going to be one of the toughest out there. So many new duellists with new affinities.” The guard tucked her quill behind her ear, the form she was filling out completed. “It should be a fun time.”

***

The pouch landed in Gareth’s hands, the weight of it surprising. He looked up at Sarkuran, who was beaming from ear to ear in a rare display of pure happiness. Behind him, Imelda was rolling her eyes, the smug glee of the demon king already testing her nerves. He had dropped a similar pouch into Magda’s expectant hands, their cut from the sale of the coins within.

“You did well then?” Gareth asked, peeling open the drawstring on the pouch and looking inside.

“That’s something of an understatement. I’ve divided up the coin equally into five parts. One for each of us to purchase cards with, then another for living expenses.” Sarkuran’s left hand swished back and forth as he explained. “Thanks, in part, to my rather impressive bargaining skills.”

“What bargaining?” Imelda said, jabbing Sarkuran in the ribs from behind with her index finger. “Felonious took one look at that pile of coin and nearly tore your arm off to get at them. He offered us this sum basically there and then. I’ve never seen someone so excited.”

“Yes, well, I can understand his enthusiasm. Apparently, there’s only been a few coins ever discovered from the people Magda shepherded, a civilisation so unknown it apparently doesn’t even have a name. It was theorised that the coins could easily be a few one-offs made by some smith as a forgery attempt or similar. The trove we provided serves as both proof of a hereto unknown civilisation, as well as of course a pile of valuable artefacts.”

“Five thousand gold,” Imelda said. “I’ve never even dreamed of having that much money. Being a duellist is crazy money. That’s a thousand each to spend on cards. I think Felonious must have given us every coin in his store. He had to open up a little safe beneath the desk and everything.”

“Remember, you need to bring yourself up to forty, total,” Gareth said, pocking the pouch. It didn’t make his trousers bulge out quite as much as the money for tournament registration had. The sheer amount of cash that was being raised by the event had to be enormous. Considering that there was still plenty of rubble and destroyed homes in Wildermount’s bottom tier, the cash wasn’t going into restoration. “It might be tempting to buy the rarest cards you can find, but you’ve got to stretch these funds out. You’ve probably got about twenty or so cards you need to get.”

“Thousand gold is a lot. I think we’ll be fine,” Imelda said with a shrug.

“Might not go as far as you think. Just keep it in mind.”

“Are we done?” Magda said, hopping from foot to foot. She was holding her cut of the money tight in her hands. “Shopping might be the greatest mortal invention around. Something about it is just so thrilling. It’s like getting a surprise, but one you choose yourself.”

“You know, I never thought of it that way,” Imelda said, putting an arm around Magda and pulling her towards the stalls.

“Well, guess it’s you and me then,” Gareth said. The group had come to a kind of unspoken agreement that when Imelda was preoccupied someone else would watch over Sarkuran.

“I suppose so. It does rather give us the advantage though, we’re perhaps the most skilled duellists of the group, so we can better discuss the pros and cons of the cards we choose,” Sarkuran said. “It will be quite the advantage should we come across them during the tournament. It’s not an impossibility.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. To be fair, there’s going to be a lot of people there, the odds are low.”

“They will increase provided we keep winning.”

“Well, hopefully.” After he had finished registering, the clerk had given him a small pamphlet about how the tournament would work. It was single elimination, the entire tournament arranged into one single bracket. Gareth would have preferred a swiss event with some kind of cut to the top eight, it was the format he was used to, but he imagined this was better as a spectator sport. There was a thrill to every battle, the outcome determining the end of someone’s shot at glory. “God I can’t imagine how many rounds there will be in this thing.”

“Thankfully it’s not all in one day. That would be draining.”

The marketplace was full of people. More so than usual. Along with the card traders, all manner of stalls appeared at dawn every morning before vanishing at night. Clothes, food and a thousand things that Gareth didn’t recognise. Guards surrounded the outside, the market possible the most protected place in the entire city. It made sense, the sheer value in cards alone must have been in the millions of gold. Gareth had overheard a rumour that the crowds were filled with men contracted by the card dealers to act as extra unseen watchmen and that when they packed up for the night, they never went back to the same bed twice. Gareth didn’t know if that was true, it had a tinge of folk dramatism to it, the same kind that infected any story told in a tavern over drinks.

As Gareth and Sarkuran approached one of the stalls, there was a knowing look from the dwarf behind the counter. He had served Gareth before, the creature of living stone simply nodding as he approached. Set before the dwarf was a vast array of cards, divided up into affinity where appropriate.

It was something that Gareth had always loved about card games. The sheer variety of options available to him, cards laid out ready to be selected, his decks carefully assembled to work as best they could. Copying decks from the internet was common, and Gareth had done it himself on occasion when he was desperate to win, but there was something to forging his own paper weapon and unleashing its wrath on his unlucky opponents.

Opening his menu quickly, Gareth examined his existing deck. Knowing what he was working from was a good idea.

Puny Goblin x 3

Goblin Soldier x3

Goblin Den Mother x1

Goblin Battlemaster x1

Goblin Shield Bearer x1

Goblin Catapult x1

Lightning Blast x3

Counterspell x 1

Goblin War Banner x 3

Goblin Ancient Rider x 1

Goblin Field Doctor x 1

Chain Lightning x 1

Total cards 20/42. Total mana Cost 33/45.

He let out a long sigh. A problem had made itself immediately apparent. Gareth had enough space to put more cards into his deck, but he would very rapidly run into the mana limit, especially if he added more expensive cards. He would have to spend more levels, more precious skills, to get to where he needed to be before the tournament. There were three weeks left before the event, so the party would need to undertake another quest or two in that limited time. He regretted not checking the limits before spending his last flurry of skill points.

The thoughts of cards reminded Gareth of part of the reason he was there. He reached into his menu, summoning physical copies of the cards he intended to sell.

“First, can I sell these? Cash, not trade.” Gareth had enough coin to buy what he needed and padding out the party’s spending money seemed like the best idea.

“Sure thing,” the dwarf said, its voice like gravel being poured through a steel funnel. “Oh, wow. I’ve never seen these before, this Looming Titan especially. Where did you get them?”

“Booster crystals during a quest,” Gareth said. The dwarf had given away that they were new to him, which meant that they were rare. Gareth immediately increased the price he was asking for in his head.

“One which was extremely dangerous. You won’t see many other cards like these for a long time, I would imagine.” Sarkuran was laying it on a little thick for Gareth’s liking, but the dwarf was nodding along, his immaculately sculpted neck creaking as it moved.

“I would be very interested in buying these. Very interested indeed. Is this all of them?” The dwarf shuffled the cards about in his hands, a faint glow escaping through his fingers.

“For now. We might be heading back into the ruins we found them in. There might be more, but I wouldn’t count on it,” Gareth said. He didn’t want to write off the possibility they might find more booster crystals in and around the tower.

“I will take all of them, for eight hundred gold.”

“Sixteen hundred,” Gareth said, boldly asking for double the dwarf’s offer.

“You don’t mess around, do you, human? Twelve hundred.”

“Fourteen.”

“Thirteen, and I can do cold hard coin, right here and now,” the dwarf said.

“That sounds like an acceptable deal,” Sarkuran said. “Don’t you think so Gareth?” He was unsubtly hinting that his comrade shouldn’t push their luck any further.

“I do. Thirteen hundred.” He extended a hand towards the dwarf and the creature took it. Despite knowing the dwarf was carved of stone, the feeling of cold fingers still caught Gareth by surprise.

The dwarf bent down beneath the stall, his body groaning as he moved. He re-emerged carrying a stone box, one that Gareth instantly knew he couldn’t lift. The dwarf’s strength made sense, considering they were living constructs, golems granted the spark of sentience. He began to remove money, the thick shimmering discs of one hundred gold coins, each as thick as a poker chip. The dwarf placed them one at a time into Gareth’s hand.

“Thirteen hundred,” the dwarf said. “Pleasure doing business with you. Anything on my stall take your fancy?”

Gareth bent closer to the cards, searching for the selection of goblins. The trader hadn’t gotten more in since last time, leaving only a single field doctor in stock. He dismissed it for now. The card was useful, but Gareth would prefer other options for the time being. Once he had more cards with multiple hit points, maybe.

“Nothing for me, no. Sark?”

“Actually yes. I would like to purchase this set of three Splitting Polyps,” Sarkuran said, pointing at the stall.

“Right enough. They’re fifty gold each, so one-fifty for the lot,” the dwarf said, picking up the cards.

“Well now, considering the excellent deal we just cut you on the cards we sold, you can afford to do all three for one hundred, don’t you think? You’re going to make a hundred times that reselling what we gave you.” There was a twinkle in Sarkuran’s eye. He was enjoying the thrill of bargaining.

“Hah!” the dwarf said, though the noise was more like a great boulder being pushed down the hill. “You pair aren’t foolish—I’ll give you that. Fine, one hundred it is.” A stone hand reached across the stall and snatched a coin out of Gareth’s still open palm before returning with the slightly glowing set of cards. “That it then gentlemen?”

“For now,” Sarkuran said as the cards transformed into energy and were absorbed into his deck box. “Come on, we should take a look at the other stalls, Gareth.”

“Wait! Aren’t you the guy who bought those goblins of me a few weeks ago?” The dwarf was leaning as far over his stall as he could. “I actually got a new card just in, something special. Something right up your mineshaft I think?”

The offer intrigued Gareth, and he crept closer to the stall. “Go on.”

“Give me a moment.” The stall owner vanished below the stall and grumbled beneath the closest thing he had to breath as he searched a box beneath. “Ah, there we go!” He re-appeared holding a single card in his hand. “Sorry, totally forgot until now I had this, so I hadn’t put it out yet.”

Gareth leant in closer as the dwarf held out the card for him to read. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He knew he had to have it.

Zollof, The Goblin King

Monster - Goblin

Mana Cost: 6

Attack rating: 300 Defence rating: 300 Hit points: 3

Effect: Crush - Hordes Unleashed - Reduce the mana cost of Goblin monster when summoned by one. Legendary - Limit one per deck.

“Power mad, crazy, and highly aggressive. Just like all goblins.”

“How much?” Gareth said. The card seemed incredible. Yes, its mana cost was high, but reducing the cost of all his other creatures was a massive benefit. Right now, if Gareth cast it, he would have zero mana left to work with, but that was no problem when his Puny Goblins would be free. Even if he couldn’t cast anything else the sheer statistics of the thing were enough to gawk at. It would be at three hundred and sixty on each statistic, with another possible hundred if Gareth drew a war banner. That was enough to fight with all but the biggest monsters he had seen.

“Well, this is a legendary, so you know it's rare. And of course, goblins is a rare affinity anyway…” the dwarf said. He knew that he had the upper hand this time. If his customers were a suspicious sort, they might have considered that the dwarf had always remembered Gareth and the card and that holding onto it was a way of clawing back as much of his gold as possible.

“One no one else thinks is any good. I can’t imagine there are many other duellists you could sell this too,” Sarkuran said. “Something is only worth what others will pay for it. Back in my…home village,” he had caught himself before he had casually mentioned his empire, “there was a fad for a while for trading deeds to a nearby mountain. Some enterprising landowner had parcelled it into tiny sections and convinced a handful of idiots it was valuable. Of course, once they started buying, he started raising the price of the parcels, and others soon joined in, eager to hold onto land increasing in value. Everyone knew the mountain itself was worthless, it was common knowledge there was no rare ores within it or any beasts with valuable hides lurking in its snow-capped peaks. But the idea that other people wanted the parcels, drove others to see them as valuable and to buy them up.”

“And your rambling point is?” The dwarf would have narrowed his eyes, if he could. His face was more a vague suggestion than an intricate carving. All the effort of his construction had gone into his body. A species that lacked the ability to shift their faces valued its form little.

“My point is once all the parcels were purchased there was trade for a little while, people consolidating their holdings. Eventually, people realised that what they had was nothing. They had pushed up the price to where no one could afford it anymore, but then had no one to sell it to outside their small circle of idiots. The only person who ever truly got rich off it was the mountain’s original owner. You can have the deed to the finest castle in the land, but if you can’t sell it then it’s worthless.”

“He normally this chatty?”

Gareth nodded. “Only when it comes to his old village. So, how much?”

“Three hundred gold. And I ain’t moving off that price. Any lower and I would be taking a loss. I’m willing to cut you a deal on this because I reckon you might come across more of these new cards, and you know who to come to first, right?”

“Oh, I do. You’ll be the first one on the list,” Gareth said as he handed over the coins from the stack the dwarf had given him. He would replace them with ones from his pouch once the transaction was done, not willing to dip into funds that weren’t technically his.

“Glad to hear it. Name’s Slate, you’re welcome at my stall any time.” The dwarf held out his hand, the card shimmering slightly in the light. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep an eye out for any more rare goblins like this. You see them every now and then in traders’ circles. And I’ll tell you what, you won’t find anyone else in this market with something like that.” A stony figure pointed towards the card in Gareth’s hand. “You entering the tournament?”

“You know, people keep asking me that?”

“This is Wildermount!” Slate threw up his hands and gestured at the city around him. “City of duellists and all that. When there’s an upcoming tournament, and you see a duellist, well it’s just the polite thing to do.”

“Fair enough,” Gareth said. “Slate, huh?” He didn’t comment on how it was a type of stone. Gareth had no idea if that would come off as insensitive. It felt a little odd, like his parents naming him after a random kind of mammal until Gareth remembered he had gone to school with someone called Fox. “I’m Gareth, this is Sarkuran.”

“Afternoon. Must say it’s nice to see wyrmkin duellists. I’ve spent many long years selling cards but never had a deck of my own. Never saw a need, they always said only humans can use them. Turns out that’s a load of old gravel, so it's good to see other races shaking things up.” Slate’s head shifted to look at Gareth. “Uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” Gareth said. He held his tongue about Sarkuran not really being a wyrmkin, the story just a cover to explain his lone horn poking through his hair. Thankfully Sarkuran’s long ashen hair covered his ears, though Gareth had seen them once or twice. If it weren’t for the horn it would have been far easier to pass him off as human, though Gareth wasn’t sure that was technically what he was. Perhaps he had been at some distant point before morphing into a demon. It was a thought that played on Gareth’s mind. Since taking a few levels in Goblinkin he was certain that his ears were ever so slightly pointier at their tips. “Personally, I think decks should be open to anyone. It’s not fair to consolidate power like that.”

“Oh really. Here, take this, my treat.” The dwarf reached for something behind the counter and then passed it over to Gareth. “You read that, see what you think. Meeting is at eight o’clock tonight at the Roc and Peak, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh, I’ll think about it, thanks,” Gareth said. He had expected Slate to pass him a card but instead, he had given him a pamphlet. It was a simple thing, four thin pages with a vivid green cover and bold black printing. Across the front was a sprawling title.

The people’s front for the redistribution of magical and political power—equality for all!

Quest accepted: Attend the meeting at the Roc and Peak

Reward: 250 Experience points.

Chapter Twenty-One

The visit to the market was a rousing success, at least in Gareth’s eyes, having come away with both a large selection of new cards and a quest that seemed trivially easy to complete. All he had to do was turn up to a meeting in a tavern, listen to people griping about their lot in life, then leave. It would be the easiest two hundred and fifty experience he had ever earned. Gareth sorely needed it; his new cards were well beyond the mana limit he could currently play.

He was sitting in the Troll and Bridge, Gareth and Sarkuran having arranged to meet the girls there once they had finished looking for cards. The pair had taken the opportunity to re-rent their rooms, a deal the landlord was more than willing to make. Gareth and his friends paid in advance, never caused trouble, and liked to frequent the bar. They were the perfect tenants. Whilst they were waiting Gareth opened his menu to examine the avalanche of new options he found himself with.

Open the Warrens

Spell

Mana Cost: 4

Create two Goblin Tokens with one hundred attack rating, one hundred defence rating, and one hit point.

“If you see one goblin above ground, there's at least a dozen more below.”

Gareth had grabbed three copies of this spell, thrilled with its possibilities. Four mana wasn’t cheap, especially for the two small creatures it created, but the key was that as the creatures were made by the spell, not summoned directly, they didn’t drain his mana constantly. Casting Open the Warrens would allow Gareth to summon more goblins to benefit from his war banners and other boosting effects whilst still freeing up his mana for other things. Of course, the spells alone consumed twelve of his remaining mana limit, bringing Gareth right up to his maximum of forty-five. He hadn’t even added Zoloff yet and was only on twenty-three cards in his deck. It was looking more and more that he would need multiple levels of skill points to make the deck possible.

Moving the menu downwards, Gareth looked at his next purchase.

Overconfident Goblin

Monster - Goblin

Mana Cost: 2

Attack rating: 150 Defence rating: 50 Hit points: 1

“There's bravery, and then there's stupidity. Somehow this goblin is both.”

This set of cards was much less taking on his limits. They were cheap—Gareth’s affinity reducing its cost to one—and had decent attack for a monster of their cost. Of course, they had lower defence to back it up, but they were another cheap monster to support Gareth’s Puny Goblins. He had bought three of them, the price remarkably low.

His next purchase had been two more den mothers. Being able to search for a goblin from his deck was incredibly strong, especially now Gareth had Zollof. That card’s legendary limit meant he could only ever play one, so having the ability to pull it out when he needed it was key. It also helped that den mothers were very cheap for what they did, and Gareth had been more than willing to pay slightly more to complete the set than he had for the first one he had acquired.

He had also been able to find another copy of the Goblin Battlemaster, a card that increased the strength of all other goblins. Gareth would have liked a third, but none of the stalls had them in stock. He had found himself envious of some of the other affinities, they had vastly more options to choose from. Elemental seemed particularly common.

The total mana value of his deck was adding up worryingly fast. By Gareth’s count, it was already on fifty-eight and he still had more cards from his spending spree.

Goblin Tinkerer

Monster - Goblin

Mana Cost: 2

Attack rating: 50 Defence rating: 100 Hit points: 1

Effect: Tinker -When you summon this monster, search your deck for a relic card and add it to your hand, then shuffle your deck.

“In a way, making that thing out of scraps makes him one of the best engineers around.”

Gareth was pretty happy with the tinkerers. They were similar to the den mother, though they found relics rather than other goblins. It was a way to search out his war banners, and Gareth was more than happy to hand over the gold to add three of them to his deck. It would make his Open the Reliquary feat much more consistent, which was good, Gareth relied on its boosting effect to make his playstyle work. It would also make it easier for Gareth to find another of his new cards.

Helm of Leadership

Relic— Artefact

Mana Cost: 2

Grants one target monster you control leader (Increase the attack and defence ratings of all monsters of the same affinity you control by 50)

“Rally around me men! We charge!”

He had only been able to acquire the one, but it was a useful supplement to the war banner. Leader wasn’t as impactful, but it was something at least, and every stacking benefit Gareth could muster was important. His whole plan was based around amplifying the effect of them, his swarm of goblins making the most of the force multiplier they provided.

The next set of cards Gareth had acquired pushed the swarm angle even harder.

Fraternal Goblins

Monster - Goblin

Mana Cost: 3

Attack rating: 100 Defence rating: 100 Hit points: 1

Effect: Team - When you summon this monster, create a token that's an exact copy.

“It would be cute how well they get along if they weren't smashing everything in sight.”

Like Open the Warrens the card gave Gareth two monsters at once, though there was a long term cost to it, the same problem with all monster cards. The card was still good, being essentially two Puny Goblins in one, and a solid three hundred and twenty attack brought to bear at once thanks to Gareth’s buffs affecting both equally. Monsters could combine their attacks to bring down bigger beasts, and the two brotherly goblins threatened most things.

That just left Gareth’s last set of cards, ones that had cost him most of his remaining gold. Only twenty remained of the budget he had been given.

Giantize

Spell

Mana Cost: 2

Grant one monster you control breakthrough (When this monster attacks and destroys another monster, it may immediately attack the enemy duellist directly) until the end of turn.

“Bar the gates! It's coming!”

Like all cards, there was artwork on the front that depicted what it did. The picture on the spell made Gareth smile, a giant rabbit the size of a van crashing against a set of wooden gates. He wondered if it was depicting a specific moment. There was even flavour text at the bottom of every card, snippets of quotations or descriptions. Gareth’s eyes had glazed over them, after all, it was something he was used to from all the card games he had played. He was suddenly realising they took on additional meaning when the thing they were depicting was real.

Being able to give a monster breakthrough struck Gareth as strong. Monsters couldn’t attack an opposing duellist until all the opposing creatures had been destroyed usually. Letting one of his goblins strike through and strip a shield from an opponent who assumed they were safe could be a match-winning trick in the upcoming tournament.

By Gareth’s count, he had managed exactly forty cards in his planned deck. He tried to add his newest purchases, shifting to his deck menu.

Puny Goblin x 3

Goblin Soldier x3

Goblin Den Mother x3

Goblin Battlemaster x2

Goblin Shield Bearer x1

Goblin Catapult x1

Lightning Blast x3

Counterspell x 1

Goblin War Banner x 3

Goblin Ancient Rider x 1

Goblin Field Doctor x 1

Chain Lightning x 1

Open the Warrens x 3

Zollof, The Goblin King x 1

Overconfident Goblin x 3

Goblin Tinkerer x 3

Helm of leadership x 1

Fraternal Goblin x 3

Gigantize x 3

Total cards 40/42. Total mana Cost 75/45.

The total mana cost was highlighted in bright red, the number passing Gareth’s limit handily. He did the sums in his head as he tried to work out how many skill points he would require before he could increase his skill far enough. At the moment he had eleven points, and the skill granted him five more total mana cost for every two ranks he put into it. That meant that Gareth would need to increase it to rank twenty-two, doubling the number of points spent on it. Frustratingly that meant Gareth would need three levels before the tournament, not two, considering each level currently earned him five points to spend.

He was annoyed at himself. With the card limit met he had eagerly spent his most recent points increasing his other skills, not stopping to think things through fully.

“I’m so stupid,” he said, undoing the changes and slumping back in his chair. “I’ve got the cards, but don’t have the mana limit to actually use them.”

“Ah,” Sarkuran said. He had a sausage roll in hand, the snack obtained on the walk back to the tavern. “Thankfully I decided to hold the skill points I obtained during our last journey until I had my cards in hand. I assume you did not.”

“No, I just went ahead and spent them like an idiot.”

“Oh, I don’t think it's stupid. After all, who knows what dangers we might face at any given moment. If we got attacked by some fearsome magical beast and I hadn’t enough mana to deal with it despite having the points to spend, well then, I would seem foolish, wouldn’t I? it’s all about calculated risk.”

“I think I get you. Spending skill points with more knowledge makes them more effective, but not spending them opens you up to being caught out. You’re trading more power now for slightly more efficient power later on,” Gareth said. He closed his menus and lent forward, placing his elbows on the wooden table. It had seen better days, its surface stained from spilt beer and covered in small divots where bored patrons had chipped away with knives.

“Neither is the wrong option. It depends on what situation you find yourself in. Besides, a lucky feat could throw any plans you had out of the window in either scenario. How many do you need before you can use the deck if you don’t mind me asking?” Sarkuran had lowered his voice. Discussing levels and skills was considered rude amongst the populace of Wildermount.

“Too many. I would need three levels to pay for what I need.”

“Ah, that’s a lot of experience. It’s worth remembering we do have access to an easy source of it. Well, not easy exactly, but readily available at least.”

“You mean…” Gareth didn’t say its name, instead trying to mime the shape of a cylinder with his hands. He stopped when he realised he was drawing some dirty looks from the handful of other people in the tavern.

“I suppose. That isn’t exactly safe though, and it’s bound to be slow. Well, slower than completing a quest anyway. The big bonus from completion makes a huge difference.”

The door to the tavern opened, allowing sunlight to temporarily pierce the carefully cultivated murk within. A great tavern kept its internal light at just the right level, giving criminals, spies and husbands escaping their wives just enough plausible deniability when someone claims they saw them through the windows.

Magda strode through, Imelda following behind her with bags under her arms. From the smile on their faces, it had been a successful trip for them. They strode over and the bags hit the table with a soft clomp.

“Managed to get your cards on the cheap, did you?” Gareth said, pointing to the shopping.

“Not quite. Cards cost a fortune!” Magda sat down on the edge of the table, relishing the slight increase in height compared to the others. “I managed to get what I needed, but I only had a few gold left at the end. Thankfully, clothes are a lot cheaper.”

“How about you, my erstwhile guardian?” Sarkuran said.

“Yeah, I’m all sorted. And before either of you two makes a smart comment, this lot isn’t just for us. We bought new clothes for everyone. If we’re going to be travelling all over the place, then we’ll need alternative outfits. That and we’ve been wearing the same ones since we left the forest. There’s only so many times you can wash an outfit before the stink never truly leaves it.” Imelda pushed one of the bags towards Sarkuran. “That’s yours. There’s one here for you as well, Gareth.”

Gareth pulled the linen bag towards himself and peered inside. Sitting atop several white linen shirts was a brown leather jerkin. “Thanks,” he said, “There’s a good chance we might need this stuff.”

“Being prepared is better than not,” the wyrmkin said with a shrug. “Besides all this lot came to three gold. They’re not the highest quality clothes, but they’re good enough.”

“Right, makes sense.” Three gold seemed cheap to Gareth, but he was still struggling to get a grasp on what things were worth in Wildermount. Dealing with thousands of gold per transaction when it came to cards had skewed his perception. He had seen the same thing happen with one of his friends back on Earth. They had come into a large sum on money, to the point where accepting an invitation from them to attend a restaurant or bar was a fool’s errand destined to drain your bank account, his friend losing all frame of reference to what was expensive.

“You manage everything you needed to?” Magda said, reaching across the table and prodding Gareth in the chest.

Gareth pushed away Magda’s jabbing finger. “Yeah. Problem is now I have the deck I’m a few levels short of using it.”

“Uh, yeah, me too.”

“Well, we can help with that somewhat,” Sarkuran said. He slid the pamphlet Gareth had been given across the table. Both men had attempted to read it before giving up a page in. The text within rambled almost incoherently.

“The people’s front for the redistribution of magical and political power?” Imelda said, sliding the pamphlet closer. “Getting involved in politics now, are we?”

“Not really, but there’s two hundred and fifty experience points up for grabs for going to a meeting tonight. We can pop in, stay for long enough for the quest to complete, and then leave before we have to hold any placards or anything,” Gareth said. “It’s easy experience points.”

“Ugh, I suppose,” Imelda said. The quest had appeared in her vision as Gareth had mentioned it. “And some of us need the experience points it seems.” Her eyes danced between Gareth and Magda. “I planned ahead.”

“As did I,” Sarkuran said, suddenly proud of himself. “It seems we think alike.”

“I don’t know about that. I have no plans to try conquering the world.”

“A shame. I actually think you might be rather good at it.”

“We’ve got about two hours before it starts,” Gareth said, glancing up at the clock on the tavern wall. “It’s at some place called the Roc and Peak. We should probably leave now. It’s going to take us about that long to find the place.” The layout of Wildermount frustrated Gareth constantly, travelling through the city taking far longer than he was used to due to the way it funnelled traffic through each tier before rising to the next.

***

A wooden sign swung in the breeze, the setting sun shimmering across its painted surface. A giant bird was perched atop a mountain, delicate brush strokes imbuing both with incredible detail. The Roc and Peak was situated on the third tier, a tavern certainly more upscale than what Gareth was used to. The benches outside were painted in a clean mint green and the windows didn’t look like they were covered in a thick layer of grease. The wall was covered in a lush green climbing plant whilst before each window was a planter filled with flowers. If the Troll and Bridge was the local pub from a horror movie, the Roc and Peak was somewhere you could take your grandmother on a Sunday afternoon.

Pushing the door open and stepping inside, the tavern matched Gareth’s expectations. It was filled with round tables all painted a soft baby blue, a single daisy resting in a vase in the centre of each. Drinks were being served in clean glasses, rather than the grotty wooden tankards he had gotten used to. Several of the patrons were eating from large plates covered in roasted meat and thick gravy. The rich warm smell was making Gareth hungry.

“What are we looking for?” Imelda said, her eyes darting around the room. “This doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of place where you would hold a secret meeting.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe it is. If no one expects you here, would they come looking?” Magda said. She inhaled deeply as a waitress walked past, plate in hand. “Either way, I think we should stay here. Maybe order a drink and a few plates.”

“I would be amenable to that,” Sarkuran added.

“We’re not here for lunch.” Gareth’s eyes settled on a nearby plate for a moment. There was a large helping of roasted vegetables, some he recognised and some he didn’t. “Even if that would be nice. Maybe after the meeting?”

A familiar stony shape caught Gareth’s eye through a doorway to another room, and he nodded towards the opening before walking towards it, the others following him as he wove between tables.

Slate greeted them as they entered the side room. The dwarf was aware his lack of facial expressions could be off-putting to the other races, so bowed deeply as Gareth entered in an attempt to show he was pleased to see them.

“Glad you could make it!” the dwarf said with his characteristic rumble. “And you’ve brought friends I see. The more the merrier! If we’re going to create a fairer society, we’ll need all the help we can get. Especially from duellists.”

“Yeah, about that, what exactly is this group? The pamphlet was a little confusing.” Gareth looked around the room. There were two dozen wooden folding chairs, though just under half of them were full. A robed figure was standing before the assembled crowd, pontificating loudly.

“We will rise up brothers! Overthrow those who have kept us oppressed all this time. The balance of power is shifting, the lies of the nobles revealed. If they lied to us about this, what else have they kept from us? What other powers have we been denied!” The speaker said. Their features were hidden by the crimson robe they were wearing.

“Don’t worry about Dirk there, he likes to spout off a bit more than the other members. Real zealous,” Slate said.

“Oh, we can tell,” Imelda said. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about the meeting in the first place, only coming for the free experience points. Now it was some kind of fanatical movement she was even less enthused.

“Don’t let him put you off. We’re all less militant than him. We understand change is a slow process. We do all believe in change though. The way things are can’t continue as is. What gives nobles the right to lord over us? What makes them better than us aside from their word? It isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. I’m lucky enough to live here in the third tier, we were spared from the Republic’s wrath, but I hear that they haven’t even finished rebuilding the houses that were destroyed. Is that right?”

“No, it’s not.” Gareth didn’t disagree with what Slate was saying. Most nations on Earth had long ago adopted democracy, and logically that movement had to have started somewhere. Gareth wondered just how much of Earth history had been decided in the back rooms of pubs.

“We must take up arms! Strike with all the might we can-”

The robed figure stopped mid-speech as the room exploded into a storm of colour. The light swirled around, flowing through the air, and coalescing into an image. A giant skull hovered above the group, the object comprised of shimmering purple colours interlaced with vibrant pinks.

There was a scream as someone in the main room caught sight of the image through the open doorway. It spread through the room as the patrons of the tavern panicked, a giant skull suddenly appearing disconcerting, to say the least.

People poured out through the doors, including the members of the People’s Front. Gareth and his friends stayed put, recognising the particular skull floating above them

Quest Failed: Attend the meeting at the Roc and Peak.

“Uh, maybe don’t do this again, Henig,” Magda said. “People probably aren’t used to giant skulls appearing from nowhere.”

“Apologies, your holiness. I wouldn’t normally contact you like this if it wasn’t urgent. There’s a problem developing here at the tower that I could use your help in resolving.” The skull’s jaw moved as it spoke, sparks of brilliant colour flying off with every motion.

“What’s the problem?” Gareth said. He had assumed Henig was capable of dealing with any issues at the tower. After all, he had done so for millennia without hassle.

“Well, rearranging the tower and running the tests has reduced my connection with the tower somewhat, so the aura that keeps monsters away is weakening. Normally it’s not an issue, but well, I think you should see. That will explain things I think.”

“Fine,” Gareth said as he reached into his bag and removed the stone rod Henig had given him. “Guess it’s time to test this thing then.”

“Always some problem, isn’t there?” Imelda said. “For once things could just go our way.”

“Well, things have been looking up recently, so it was only fair that the universe gave us a swift kick,” Magda said, stepping closer to Gareth as he twisted the rod in his hands. Light swirled beneath them, the teleportation circle forming.

“You made the universe. If it’s giving us a kicking then it’s your fault.”

“Well, I suppose I must have had a good reason.”

With a flash of light, the party vanished, along with several of the folding chairs, two unfinished drinks, and a warm pasty one of the People’s front had been eating.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mike accompanied his men as they made their way up to the third tier. For days he had been asking for help from the other tiers, yet as soon as something had happened on the third the order had come down for him to send as many men as he could spare. Normally he would have assigned the group of guards held at the station as a reserve for emergencies and forgotten about it, but the specifics of the incident had caught his eye.

He found himself before a tavern on the third tier, though Mike thought tavern was a poor word for it. The establishment looked far too nice. As far as Mike was concerned a place needed a certain level of grime on every surface before it could portray itself as a reputable drinking establishment. Hanging above the door was a wooden sign, one painted with an elaborate bird sitting atop a mountain. The place called itself the Roc and Peak, a name that Mike thought was pretentious. Wildermount was a city built over a mountain, the keep nestled within its highest reaches. Depictions of scaling mountains held significance in the city, they were a metaphor for climbing the social strata of Wildermount. Mike assumed the roc represented the owners of the tavern, and by placing themselves at the peak they were declaring themselves the best one in the entire city.

Guards were milling around outside, talking to the few patrons they could round up. Most had fled some distance, though Mike could hardly blame them. If a giant glowing skull had appeared in the middle of the Troll and Bridge, he would probably have made a sprint for the doorway, though he knew a few regulars that might sit and finish their drinks first.

“You think this is linked at all, Cap?” Mavis said. She was sitting on one of the benches outside the tavern and staring through the window.

“To which case? The Lich or the murder?”

“Well, either, or both? A big skull is the symbol the Lich has been leaving behind, and it's been a few days since he’s hit anything. Maybe this was some way of reminding everyone he exists? Or it could be something to do with that rune the murderer was spelling out? Maybe they’re trying to summon something, and it only got partway done.”

Mike took a seat next to Mavis, the wood creaking under his weight. Mike was slightly pudgy, and his wife currently had him on a diet to try and shed the pounds, but it was the weight of his armour that the bench was protesting against. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about the second option. I assumed it had to be something to do with the Lich considering the skull. Of course, it could be a copycat, or someone trying to pull a prank and blame it on them.”

“Not many pranksters can summon an image like that, Captain.”

“Not many used to you mean. With so many decks in so many hands now it could easily be the result of some spell or monster summoned by a duellist. What do we know about the meeting it interrupted? Maybe it was a deliberate ploy to break it up.”

“Well, from what we can gather, the group was called,” Mavis flipped open a notebook resting on the table before her, “the People’s Front for the redistribution of magical and political power. Apparently.”

Mike rolled his eyes. Since decks had started appearing at random more and more groups were springing up looking to change the status quo. Mike liked the status quo; it didn’t need any extra thought on his part. Sure, things weren’t fair, but that was just life. You accepted it and made the best of what you had. He certainly had no love for the way people from the higher tiers looked down on those living in the tiers below, both figuratively and literally depending on how close to the walls they lived, but he wasn’t looking to upend society.

“You ever consider joining one of these groups, Mavis?” Mike hadn’t gotten to be a captain by not being observant. The few groups he had interacted with had included more non-humans in their membership than there should have been considering how much humans outnumbered everyone else. It was hardly surprising the other races wanted to change things, if society was stacked against the poor, it was even worse for those with the misfortune to be born outside the human race.

“Haven’t got the time. Too busy helping you, Captain.”

“Would you, if you had the time?”

“I honestly haven’t given it much thought. Things definitely are changing around here, and it only makes sense people would try to shape that somehow. I don’t know, maybe not the people’s whatever they’re called, but if there was something like a group about helping out our tier then I could see it.”

“You know it's only a matter of time before the lords make this kind of thing illegal, right?” Mike said. For the time being the groups were just talking about pushing for change. As soon as they started trying to do something about it then the nobles would push back.

“Maybe. Don’t know if there’s much we can do about it. We don’t make the laws,” Mavis said, flipping her notebook closed.

“No, but we did sign up to enforce them. At some level, we’re just as to blame if something happened. That’s a worry for another day though. I don’t think there’s much else we can do here. Whatever it was that appeared in there is gone, and it didn’t seem to do any damage.”

“Apparently it did, several folding chairs went missing.”

“Folding chairs?” Mike said. “So, someone summoned a giant skull to smash some furniture?”

“The chairs aren’t broken, they’re just gone. Vanished. So, I’m guessing the skull stole them? Not sure why.”

“You know, when you think you’ve seen or heard everything,” Mike said.

“Captain, I’ve got someone here I think you would want to talk to,” said a guard, one of Mike’s that he had brought with him. Strictly speaking, Mike was only there to observe his men. Whatever had happened in the tavern it wasn’t his case. Despite this his guard had come to him, the animosity between the different guard divisions strong down to even the ground levels.

Behind the guard was a being that Mike immediately recognised as a dwarf. They were unique beings, statues imbued with the gift of life. Dwarves, in general, tended to have rough ill-defined features, though this one had hands that were exquisitely carved, the fingers complete with wrinkles carved by the knuckles and a set of nails etched into the tips. That denoted that the dwarf had money to spare, it was common for richer dwarves to spend money on improving their bodies or even replacing parts outright. Rumour had it that some dwarves were so rich that they were impossible to tell from humans at a distance, their features cut and painted to perfection.

“Captain, this is Slate,” the guard said. “He’s one of the organisers for the meeting that was going on in there.”

“Thanks, Wilkinson. I’ll take it from here,” Mike said. “So, Slate, you’re one of the rabble-rousers that were at the heart of what happened in there?”

“I would hardly say we were rabble-rousing. The People’s Front is a legitimate citizen’s group dedicated to raising the level of equality within our society, both financial and racial. Not that I would expect some human in a position of power to understand our complaints. It must be nice, to hide behind all the privileges you have. I wonder what kind of coin they pay you to keep people where they belong?” The dwarf’s lips didn’t move as he spoke, the rumble simply escaping from the small hole that formed his mouth.

“Not enough, trust me on that. Look, I honestly don’t care what your group does. I’m guessing you’re a merchant? The hands are a dead giveaway. You know, it’s funny actually, that someone living in the third tier, making a decent amount of gold, more than decent considering the quality of that workmanship, is the one agitating for change. I wonder if you lived in the bottom tier like I do, if you would have the time to have your meetings in quaint little taverns, or if you would be too busy trying to scrape together what copper your could to survive?” The dwarf’s words had set a fire blazing within Mike. He had worked hard to rise to the rank of guard captain, pulling himself up from a life of poverty. In truth, he could have progressed to command of a higher tier a long time ago but had repeatedly declined the offer. Looking over the tier where he had grown up was his way of helping the people who lived there.

“I meant no offence, but you have to understand that you represent a form of oppression from a state that seeks to keep us down.” Slate’s head shifted to look at Mavis, the stone creaking as it moved. “All of us.”

“Look, I honestly don’t care about whatever politics you were into. I want to know if there was anything strange. Before the giant skull.”

“Not really. One of our speakers was in the middle of their speech, and I had just welcomed some new members before it all happened. Though now I think about it, I didn’t see those new members leave, though it's possible I just missed it in the commotion.” Slate put a hand to his chin as he thought the stone surfaces clinking off one another.

“What new members? Do you know who they were?”

“Some duellists who seemed sympathetic to our cause. I’m a card dealer see, by trade.”

“Did you consider that it might not be a coincidence that this happened at the same time as you got new members?  That doesn’t strike you as suspicious?” Mavis said. She had turned around on the bench to face Slate, her notebook in one hand and lead stylus in another.

“It didn’t until you pointed it out. Now I think about it there was definitely a lot strange about them. They sold me a bunch of cards I had never seen but were pretty coy about where they had gotten them from. And one of them was using goblin cards, which is pretty unusual on its own.”

“What did they look like?” Mike said. He already had a pretty good idea about who Slate was talking about.

“Well, when I met the whole group it was two humans, and two wyrmkin, though I’ll be honest most of you meat people all look the same to me. No offence. One of the wyrmkin, he only had one horn,” Slate said, tapping the top of his head with a clink.

“Ouch, poor fella,” Mavis said, wincing. Amongst wyrmkin horns were seen as a sign of virility. Missing one would make it hard to find a partner.

“I know these duellists,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Of course, it’s them. They’re trouble that lot, especially the one with the goblins.”

***

Sweat poured down Jack’s brow. He wiped his sleeve across it, wicking away the beads before they could run into his eyes. He was regretting choosing a mask, it was oddly warm, especially when its magic was working to disguise his voice. It had been a strange week, seeing his face on every newspaper and every copper dreadful being sold by peddlers on street corners. Or at least, the face he had been presenting in his night-time escapades.

It had been so straightforward when it started. Jack had always lived on the criminal side of life, making ends meet with burglary and the occasional attempt at banditry, though if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t been exactly good at it. Becoming a duellist had been his ticket out, a single quest giving him more money than he had seen in years, but there was always that temptation at the back of his mind. He knew where there would be plenty of money, and it wouldn’t be guarded by monsters or hidden deep within the undercity. The plan had been easy, break into one of the dozens of family-run businesses he knew about, easily beat the two or three henchmen guarding it using his deck and make off with the money. Quick, easy and best of all the only people who got hurt were the sort that went too far even for Jack.

It had very quickly gotten out of hand. Jack had invested his early quest earnings into a set of runic items meant to make performing the robberies easier. A mask to disguise his face and voice and a pauldron that allowed him to leap great heights in a single bound to aid his escape.

Things had changed the first time Jack had attempted his plan

He had burst into a small house that held the proceeds from a brothel the Bloodstone family ran in a separate larger home nearby. Jack had expected to find just two or three men watching over a big pile of money. He had certainly found that, but also kept in the home was a group of women who had been promised a better life than the one they had in the shantytown outside the walls. That was a lie, and conditions within the building were deplorable. Most of the women were injured in some way and all had suffered from darker things.

It was too much.

Jack had set his monsters upon the gangsters, though he was careful to order them not to kill his opponents. Once they had been easily defeated, he had split the money amongst the women and allowed them to escape into the night.

The experience had changed him. Jack’s past crimes had always seemed victimless to him. Something stolen from a home of a person he would never know, or money lifted from the pockets of merchants he then allowed to carry on unharmed. His deeds were misdemeanours compared to what was happening around him. He had found himself despair at the actions of one group, whilst having the power to do something about it.

One surreptitious purchase later and he had a third runic item that allowed him to paint a stylised skull in moments. He hit the families over and over, leaving the skull in his wake at every site. He wanted them to know someone was pushing back.

It felt good to be helping people for once, to be making a difference in the tier that was his home. The funds he had recovered from his attacks certainly helped, though a good portion of it ended up finding its way to good causes anonymously.

Jack had operated for a while before the guards finally caught on. Jack would be lying if escaping from the trap Mike had set hadn’t left him smiling. He had known the guard captain all of his life, and Jack knew that Mike was far more competent than he first appeared. Jack would have been caught, were it not for his runic items, something the guard could never have predicted. The trick wouldn’t work twice.

Common sense dictated that Jack should have laid low after his brush with the law, but during his escape that night something else had occurred that had changed his goal dramatically.

There had been a scream, a muffled one, but distinct enough for Jack to hear it through the walls of a building as he rushed past. He had come to a dead stop immediately. His purpose had become protecting the people of the bottom tier, so he knew that he couldn’t ignore the sound of someone in distress, even if it risked being caught by the guards.

The door had burst open, smashed apart by a ghoul Jack had summoned, to reveal a horrific sight. A woman was laying on the ground, her stomach torn open, entrails dragged across the floor. There was another figure standing in the kitchen that Jack found himself in, a robed figure, their form concealed by shadow.

On seeing the ghoul standing before Jack the figure dropped the entrails ran through an open door, fleeing through a short corridor into a bedroom and then out through a back door. Jack didn’t follow, stopping to examine the woman. She had already passed, the blood loss from the gash across her stomach just too much.

That had begun a new crusade. Jack had spent the next few days trying to track down the robed figure. He was bumping up against dead end after dead end, the actual task of investigating a crime much harder than he had imagined. He was certain that the robed figure was responsible for other deaths, including the ones in the bookstore. The guards had found that one, and getting access to the scene was impossible, or at least it was for Jack. For the Lich, it was a different story.

That was partly why Jack was sweating. The guards had left a single person to watch the entrance of the bookshop. Jack wasn’t blind to the mythology that had sprung up around him, and he was hoping to leverage that to his advantage.

“Woah, hey! You’re that guy!” the guard said, his hand ready to draw his sword. “The Lich! You’re a wanted man.”

“So I hear,” Jack said, his voice booming as the mask distorted it. It was late afternoon, and in the daylight, Jack was suddenly acutely aware of how exposed he was. “I’m not here for a fight. I’m here to check out this crime scene. I’ve been chasing a murderer. So, you’ve got two choices. You can try and take me, turn me in, and let the monster doing this get away, or you can let me in and pretend you never saw me.”

“I can’t do that,” the guard said, drawing his blade slightly.

“Yeah, you can. You’ve read about me, right? Helping the people of this tier, maybe doing things that guards can’t do, but wish they could? I reckon I could track down this murderer faster than official channels could.”

The sword slid back into its sheath. “Maybe. I’ve seen what’s in there it’s…grim.” The guard let out a long sigh. “Fine, but I didn’t see you, you were never here, and we’ve never met.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, nodding at the guard. “I’ll get them, you’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The flash of light faded, stinging Gareth’s eyes. It took a moment for his vision to return, blobs of colour lingering in the corners. He blinked a few times to try and force them away. Past the lingering aftereffects, he could see the bottom floor of the tower around him, the transportation rod dropping him and his friends near the doorway that led to the savage land beyond. The heat from outside was starting to leak into the tower, hot air swirling under the doorway now the dust of a thousand millennia had been disturbed by its opening.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Magda said, taking a step towards the disc in the middle of the room, the magical elevator now covered in glowing runes. “Aside from the going blind thing. Next time I know to close my eyes before the magic takes effect.”

“It’s a pity that the rod does not transport us back,” Sarkuran said. “It will take us several days to return to Wildermount once whatever crisis here is resolved. Perhaps if we ask nicely Henig can teach us how to craft our own platform that we can leave in the Troll and Bridge.” He snorted at his joke, mildly amused by the image.

“I’m not sure the landlord will be too keen with a doorway to a dangerous land existing in his pub.” Gareth began to walk towards the platform, following Magda as she led the way. He assumed Henig would be waiting for them at the top of the tower. Gareth wondered if the lich ever left that room, or if he had been surrounded by the same view for untold aeons. The view had to be different from when the tower had been built, the world around it shifting over time.

“Think of the possibilities for him though! He could perhaps sell tickets to pass through or bring an ancient into the tavern on weekends to drum up business.”

“None of those things sounds safe,” Imelda said. She was last in the procession crossing the room, glancing back towards the sealed main doors for a moment.

“Nothing is truly safe,” Sarkuran said, holding up his hands as if he hadn’t said one of the most obvious things in the universe. “But I take your point. I suppose our current arrangement will have to do for now.”

“We ready? Or are we going to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of bringing a dinosaur to a pub?” Gareth was already on the platform, standing near the edge and staring at the runes around the centre. There were more than there had been before, and Gareth assumed that it was because Henig had been working to fill the void within the tower with more floors. Each rune had to correspond with a particular level, and Gareth was trying to remember which one of them had been the one for the top.

“I really hope this doesn’t do that rushing thing again,” Magda said. She glanced upwards at the hole above them. “That was horrible. You know, I never had to breathe before I was in this mortal body, and wow suddenly losing the ability to do it is horrible, right?”

“Well, you do need it to live,” Gareth said.

“I’ll have to chastise past me for the terrible design. Trees don’t need to breathe after all.”

“No, trees definitely breathe. Kind of. Besides evolution probably played a part. If you pushed the metaphorical boulder that stars an avalanche, then the end result isn’t directly your fault. Well, it is, but you get what I mean.”

“Kind of.”

“What’s evolution?” Imelda said, her boots clomping as she stepped onto the platform.

“It’s what happens to things over time,” Gareth said desperately searching his mind for an explanation, his thoughts casting back to what his high school biology teacher had taught him. “It’s like if there’s an animal that eats the leaves of a tree, the tallest of those animals will be more likely to survive. It’s easier to reach the leaves after all. They pass their height onto their kids because the shorter animals die. Then the next generation is a tiny bit taller, and the same things happen again. And then again. After a time, a long time, thousands of years, millions even, those animals will have grown into something slightly different from their ancestors.”

“Ah. That kind of makes sense, actually. It’s like how you breed dogs or horses, kind of.”

“Yeah, though there’s a bit more to it than that. It’s not always apparent what direction a species will take. Take all the dinosaurs around us, the ancients. Well on Earth they got wiped out, but not all of them. The smallest survived, especially the ones that could fly, and eventually became birds.”

“You’re telling me those things out there, the giant lizards with feathers, are the same thing as birds? Now you’re just talking nonsense.”

“They do have feathers, you can’t deny that,” Magda said.

“And I have horns and scales, doesn’t mean I used to be a dragon.”

“I mean, you are wyrmkin,” Gareth said, pointing out the obvious.

“Kin to the wyrms isn’t the same as being one. Besides, a wyrm isn’t a dragon, slightly different thing. My point still stands.”

“You know this is a problem back on Earth as well. Humans evolved from apes, and some people just can’t bring themselves to believe that. Maybe once we get Magda back to where she belongs, she can determine what’s right or wrong. I’m assuming she knew everything when she was in charge.”

“I don’t believe so, Magda couldn’t have been omnipotent or omniscient, considering that her creations were able to rebel against her,” Sarkuran said, his hand touching the bottom of his chin as he considered his theory.

Magda crossed her arms and pouted. “All right, can we not talk about me like I’m not here? Come on, we need to see what Henig was panicking about.”

“Anyone remember which rune it was to get to the top?” Gareth said, finally admitting to himself that it had slipped from his memory entirely. Video games had always made being an adventurer so easy, everything stored in handy automatic quest logs filled with notes, or even sometimes just glowing icons denoting where to go and what to do. Gareth did have a quest log, but they were often annoyingly vague about what he needed to do.

“I do,” Sarkuran said, placing a foot on one of the glowing symbols, the buttons depressing. “I memorised it when we were last here.”

“Of course, you did,” Gareth said. He got along with Sarkuran, but sometimes his sheer competence could be annoying. Sarkuran had been chosen by the gods to take part in their game, playing the part of the opponent for the soul selected to be Acamida’s hero. That implied he met whatever esoteric requirements they selected based on. He could easily have been dropped into the position of reincarnated hero; the skills required overlapping heavily with those of a conquering overlord.

The platform began to move, ascending slowly towards the opening in the ceiling. It passed through onto the second floor, still the impossible corridor it had been. The platform kept going, moving into the third floor, this time the mind-bending space replaced by a standard round room almost identical to the bottom level.

Much to the relief of the people riding it, the platform did not rocket upwards through an endless void of stars. Instead, it travelled through a series of identical round chambers, each slightly wider than they should have been considering the outer dimensions of the tower. Eight of them passed by, giving the tower a total of twelve stories. Gareth knew that whilst there were buildings back on Earth much taller its construction was still incredibly impressive. Especially when it came to the reality-bending happening within its walls.

Henig was waiting for them as the platform came to a stop on the top floor of the tower. He was sitting in his stone throne, bony fingers clattering against his jaw as he waited impatiently. Meeting his goddess again after all the long years he had waited had shattered the patience he had built up over time.

“Ah! There you are,” he said, standing up and adjusting his robe slightly. “I apologise for the inconvenience, but it is rather urgent.”

“What, exactly, is the problem?” Gareth said.

Henig simply pointed to one of the nearby windows with his bony finger, gesturing at something beyond the glass.

It was immediately apparent the reason he had called the party to the tower. An enormous creature was moving through the sky, slowly drifting towards the tower. It was a thing of incredible size, a beast of scale and talon. It looked almost like a dragon, though its body was long and snakelike, clusters of feathers running around it in vibrant bands. Its head was filled with curving fangs and long horns stretched from the sides of its head. The shape of its skull was almost saurian, like the beast had more in common with the ancients below it than any dragon. It had a set of arms and legs, but they were so small compared to its body that they were almost vestigial.

A set of incredible leathery wings were holding it aloft, their beating causing the trees below to shake from the force, impossible to fathom volumes of air moved with every flap. Despite the creature’s incredible wingspan, its sheer size meant there had to be magical means assisting it as it moved.

The creature’s course gave no doubt as to its destination. It was flying directly towards the tower, its body shifting about as it moved

“Oh, right. I see it now. What is that thing?”

“A dragon,” Henig said. “One as ancient as this rainforest. It’s grown over the ages, the undisputed lord of this realm. The aura of the tower has kept it at bay, but as I mentioned, adding extra floors has taxed my power, and therefore that of the aura as well. Dragons are inherently magical creatures. It’s not surprising this one would sense the change in the repelling aura.”

Gareth had experienced the exact same thing once before. Sarkuran’s crystal prison had kept away the creatures of Imelda’s home forest from the village located there. Once it had been shattered, a dragon had appeared to investigate the village almost immediately. That had looked vastly different to the one approaching the tower, being a creature made of tightly bound vines. Gareth knew that dragons were elemental creatures, of a sort. They absorbed the mana around them their bodies shifting to match. The dragon in the forest had taken on the guise of the elemental creatures around it, whilst the one racing towards the tower looked almost primal in its form, as it could be the ancient progenitor of all dragon kind. Considering that Henig had asserted that the beast had lived as long as the tower, that wasn’t an impossibility.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Sarkuran said, stepping over a pile of books as he drew closer to the window. “Defeating that beast might be possible, but it’s not going to be easy.”

“We don’t need to defeat the creature, nor would I wish to. This rainforest is as much its domain as it is anything else’s. It is simply indulging in its own curiosity. We can however keep it away, I believe.” Henig reached into the pockets of his robes and produced four perfectly circular stones. On each, an Eternal rune had been carved. “Outside of the tower are four obelisks. They form a second line of defence outside of the aura. Placing a keystone in each of the obelisks will activate a barrier that should keep the dragon at bay. Hopefully. Ideally, it should hold out until I can reinforce the aura, but it isn’t a permanent solution by any means.”

Magda reached out and plucked a stone from Henig’s palm. “So, we just need to plug these in and that’s it?”

“Yes, the keystone is the rune missing to complete the spell that powers the barrier. I would expect that we don’t have much time, however. I recommend splitting up. There are four of you, and four obelisks, after all. You’ll find them a short way into the forest, at the cardinal directions.”

“Cardinal directions?” Gareth said. He didn’t recognise the term.

“He means north, south, east and west,” Imelda said. “We have compasses, in the supplies we bought.”

“They might be useful, although the entrance of the tower faces directly south, a consequence of the leylines it’s built upon,” Henig said, offering the stones to the other members of the party in turn. “It should be reasonably easy to find the obelisks. They’re closer than the teleportation platforms.”

“Oh, yeah, easy,” Gareth said, pocking the keystone. “Just wander off on my own into a jungle filled with hungry dinosaurs. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Guess we don’t have much choice, do we?”

Quest Accepted: Activate the barrier around the tower and drive off the dragon.

Quest Reward: 2500 experience points.

The experience points on offer made the danger more palatable to Gareth, after all, he needed three more levels before he could compete in the tournament. Entering the event had already proven itself more trouble than expected. What was a little more?

“I suggest we hurry,” Sarkuran said, pointing at the dragon. “I suspect that thing is moving quicker than it seems. And that currently, it’s further away than we think. The sheer size of this beast is incredible.”

“You’re right. Gawk later, save the tower now. I’ll take north, Magda south, Imelda east, and well that leave’s Sark with the west. Once you activate your obelisk, get back here as soon as you can. I’m assuming the tower itself will be the safest place.”

“A fair assumption,” Henig said. “Though if the dragon is able to pierce the barrier, then I suspect it won’t matter where you are.”

“Reassuring,” Gareth said shaking his head. “Right. Well, let’s go then.”

***

Something was following him; Gareth was certain of that. His intrusion into the jungle had not gone unnoticed by the beasts that lurked within. He had crossed over the range of where the aura was strongest, the treeline held back just as much as the monsters who lived within. He needed to keep pushing on, the dragon was getting closer by the moment, the beating of its wings becoming audible even at this distance.

Getting to the obelisk was the only thing that mattered, so Gareth had stridden onwards as quickly as he could, using his staff for leverage against the jungle. Gareth found that he was oddly fond of Henig, despite only knowing him for an extremely short time. The fact he was so upbeat about his situation—being a skeleton cursed for all eternity to watch over the last remnants of an ancient race— he was oddly endearing. He had taken the whole situation a lot better than Gareth would have. It probably helped that his goddess had finally returned, even if she was in a form much shorter than the lich had expected.

A loud crack caught his attention, Gareth stopping for a moment and spinning about on his heel. A large herbivore had wandered through the trees behind him and was chewing enthusiastically on some nearby branches. It wasn’t paying Gareth any attention, the tiny human insignificant to the creature. It was bipedal and had a long talon on each thumb that looked like a spike.

“Right, you’re no threat are you. Do me a favour and stay there, ok?” Gareth said. He gave the ancient a thumbs up, copying the gesture its natural weapons locked it into.

The herbivore stopped its chewing suddenly. Its nostrils flared and it looked around with furtive glances. Something had caught its attention, something that Gareth couldn’t see.

His hand sat atop his deck box ready. The forest had fallen silent, there was something out there, something big enough to threaten the large dinosaur before him.

The trees by the creature exploded, a set of snapping jaws crashing through and clamping around the neck of the herbivore. Blood sprayed out from the wound, coating the outline of the jaws’ owner. It took Gareth a moment to realise that the attacker was almost invisible, its scales and feathers shifting to match the trees around it. The beast had been lying in wait, a stealth predator of incredible skill. It was sheer luck that it hadn’t chosen Gareth for its lunch.

That had changed now. Tossing the herbivore aside the predator was keen to add Gareth as a side dish. The thing was almost exactly what Gareth imagined when he thought of large predatory dinosaurs, a youth spent watching lawyers being snatched off toilers and jeeps chased through the rain on the television. No movie had prepared him for the idea that a tyrannosaur could blend like a chameleon.

“Ok, fine. Let’s go then.” Gareth summoned his hand of cards, and with a flourish cast a Puny Goblin, the creature reduced to zero mana because of his mask. He hadn’t added any new cards to his deck, not yet, though he was wishing he had. Something like Zollof might have put him on a more even footing.

The goblin flew into the air, lifted by nearly invisible jaws. Its legs thrashed for a moment—the goblin mercifully dematerialising. Not for the first time, Gareth wondered if his summoned monsters felt pain. A roar pushed the thought from his mind, the ancient angry its prey had vanished.

The beast was visible now, its swift movement meaning its colour didn’t quite match its surroundings. Those same colours were rapidly shifting—the beast adapting quickly.

“Oh no you don’t.” Gareth glanced at his cards. He had four left, along with five mana. He smiled as he realised speaking skill points to increase his available orbs had been wise. He tapped his cards quickly, summoning two Goblin Soldiers and a war banner into being. The flurry of spells activated his staff, drawing him another card to use. Gareth had two mana left, his Counterspell and a den mother in his hand. The Counterspell was useless, but with the extra mana available to him he could increase his forces.

“Charge!” he shouted at his goblins, the two soldiers rushing forwards.

The goblins held their oversized swords high, swinging them overhead in arcs as they chopped at the legs of the ancient. The creature roared as the goblins drew blood, their blades slicing through scales and feathers alike.

Behind them, another goblin took shape, the wizened frame of the den mother. Gareth quickly selected a Puny Goblin from his deck using the den mother’s ability and cast his newest acquisition. His staff trigged a second time, adding a Lightning Blast to his hand. Having access to the damaging spell was useful, but Gareth was certain he needed to weaken the predator first, there was no way something this big didn’t have multiple hit points.

The ancient faded from view as its colours finally blended into the environment. Gareth was certain he could make out the outline of it, but his goblins seemed confused, a rare burst of emotion from the magical constructors. Their confusion was cast aside a moment later as a set of blood-stained teeth struck out at a Goblin Solider.

The goblin was fast, raising its sword above its head and placing the blade between the predator’s teeth, the metal preventing them from closing fully and crunching down on the goblin itself. It was an impressive reaction, both in speed and strength, no doubt a result of the boosting effect saturating the monster.

With its location once again revealed, the goblin’s went to work striking at the beast. The sword cut into flesh, whilst the den mother and puny goblin began bashing the back of the ancient’s legs with their staff and club respectively. The beast released the goblin in its mouth and roared with pain, the trees around the battle shaking from the sound.

Gareth saw his chance. Light began to build before him, the familiar smell of burnt ozone filling his nostrils. Lightning arced out, slamming into the dinosaur. It reeled back, the blow causing it to stumble lightly.

The goblin that had been trapped between the monster’s teeth saw its chance, rushing forward with its blade in hand. It leapt from a gnarled root; its sword jabbed upwards towards the same set of jaws that had held it clutched tightly. The blade pierced flesh with a sickening squelch, blood pouring from the wound as the weapon was pulled free by the weight of falling goblin.

The ancient stumbled for a moment, stunned by the blow. It slumped forward, crashing against a tree and sliding to the ground.

Camouflaged predator defeated. 296 experience points gained.

“Good job guys,” Gareth said. He had no idea if his goblins could understand him, but the sentiment felt right. To his surprise, the goblins seemed to nod in appreciation. “Better stay out for now. I’ve no idea what’s else is lurking in this jungle.”

A loud squelch caught his attention. Something was moving, and it had stepped on the corpse of the herbivore, spraying blood up its leg. It was another of the predators. Gareth focused his eyes and realised that he could make out the faint outline of not one, but two more of the beasts. He chastised himself, stealth hunters operating in packs made sense.

“Right, well, looks like we have more work,” he said, his goblins forming up before him, red light flowing from the war banner behind them across the uneven forest floor and into their bodies. “Come on then! You want to eat me? Give it a try!”

***

Level up- Level 22 reached

Current exp 696/1739

Five skill points gained.

Imelda wiped the blood from her cheeks. The pack of ancients had been following her for a while and had finally found the courage to attack her as she had reached the obelisk, no doubt choosing their timing in response to her slowing pace.

The others were probably facing similar challenges, though she had no idea how they were doing. She could see their cards in the bottom left of her vision, the joining together into a formal party granting her that ability, so she knew they were fighting, but she was too far away to get any notifications of victory or any experience for that matter. She was glad to have hit another level, Imelda needed the skill points, and she was keen to keep her lead over the others, though they were slowly catching up. Everyone else had something, Gareth was from another world, Sarkuran was an ancient warlord, and Magda was an outright goddess. Compared to them Imelda felt woefully outmatched, though she would never admit that to her friends. For now, she had the advantage of local knowledge, but that would diminish with time.

The obelisk stood before her, though it would have been easy to miss if Imelda didn’t know to look for it. It was made of dark black stone and three times her height, but vines covered most of its surface, obscuring the construct from view. Using her long knife Imelda began to cut away at the vines, pulling them loose to expose more of the obelisk. It didn’t take her long to find where the keystone went, there was a band of Eternal runes at chest height, a divot in the pattern shaped perfectly for the key partway through.

She placed the stone into place, and the runes began to glow, blue light filling their shapes. The obelisk seemed to thrum with power, the air around it almost throbbing with potential energy.

“Right, that’s mine done. I just hope the others are having as easy a time.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Level up – Level 21 gained.

Five skill points gained.

Current Exp 380/1660

Gareth was sweating, the heat from the rainforest and the excitement from the fight getting the better of him. It had been a close-run thing, the battle of attrition between the two ancients and his small force of goblins a tight run thing. Working together the two predators had been able to pick off his goblins one by one, Gareth replacing them as fast as he could draw cards. The creatures had even been able to strike at him twice, tearing cards away from his shield. That had been their undoing, his shield holding a Lightning Blast that he had been able to launch over and over. The interaction between his shield cards and the spell was powerful but too random to be relied on.

Gareth closed his deck box. All that remained of his goblin force was the den mother, the withered crone standing over the corpse of one of the predators, its camouflage slowly fading away. The goblin transformed into light; her energies absorbed back into the box. Keeping his monsters out ready might have been the smarter move, but as far as Gareth was concerned the den mother had earned her rest. He wondered what happened to the goblins when they returned to the box. Was he summoning the same ones every time, and if so, were they conscious of their time inside the box?

Getting his bearings for a moment, Gareth resumed his walk into the jungle. If the others had managed to escape being attacked, then they were likely already at their designated obelisks. Gareth didn’t like the idea that he might be the last one to complete his task, so he picked up the pace. The sound of the dragon’s wings was growing louder by the moment, though the canopy above him blocked the massive creature from sight.

He could hardly blame the beast for wanting to investigate. As a child Gareth’s father had been heavily into woodworking, turning the shed in the garden into his personal workshop. Gareth had been banned from entering, the collection of tools considered too dangerous for his then young age. Of course, that had only made the contents of the shed all the more alluring. When he was finally considered old enough to enter, the first thing Gareth had done was rush to look at what was inside. His disappointment at discovering that woodworking was interminably boring was immeasurable. Gareth thought that the dragon might think the same, once it discovered that all the repelling aura was keeping hidden was a single stone tower.

A chuckle left Gareth’s lips as he realised the absurdity of his situation. He had never been much of an outdoors person and yet here he was traversing the uneven terrain of a rainforest, his boots leaving deep tracks in the mud. It was the kind of thing he had only ever seen on TV shows, daring survivalists braving the jungle, pretending they were in incredible danger despite the presence of a camera crew and presumably their entire support system. It was hard to take someone’s claim they would need to eat bugs that night to survive when there was a craft services table just off-screen. Gareth was finding surviving in the rainforest much easier than he imagined, though to be fair he was only really taking a short walk, and if he hadn’t been defended by magically summoned monsters, he would have been a predator’s lunch extremely quickly.

Stepping carefully over a partially rotted log, Gareth carried onwards. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Henig had described it as an obelisk, though Gareth wasn’t entirely certain what that was. He knew that it was some kind of stone pillar, though he thought perhaps those were monoliths. Gareth wasn’t entirely sure what the difference was, and he assumed he would know what he was looking for when he saw it.

The further he got from the tower, the thicker the rainforest became, Gareth’s progress slowing as the gaps between trees got shorter, the massive ferns growing around their base larger and denser. Gareth took his time moving through them, not wanting to disturb any venomous snakes or insects. His shield only protected him against what it saw as attacks, plenty of duellists had been injured when the walls of Wildermount had shattered, their shield no defence against the fall. That had included Imelda, though she had thankfully recovered quickly. Gareth wasn’t confident the magic would see a snake as a threat, and even if it did Gareth wasn’t sure know what would happen considering he had taken damage to it just moments ago. Presumably, it needed time to regenerate.

A creature landed on a tree branch just before him, a small pterosaur no bigger than a pigeon. The creature pecked at the wood with its beak, burrowing into the bark and pulling loose a large grub. It swallowed the insect greedily and then launched itself back off the branch, dropping towards the forest floor to build speed then suddenly swooping upwards through the canopy.

The brief glimpse of the creature reminded Gareth that not all monsters were deadly things looking to feast upon him. Like the goblins in the forest, or Tax and the rest of the spiders, some were simply beings that lacked the ability or opportunity to communicate with the other races. Ultimately the only difference between a monster and a person was semantic, a simple case of misunderstanding one another.

After a few more minutes of walking, Gareth found what he was looking for. Reclaimed in part by the forest was a four-sided tapered stone column, tipped with a pyramidal point. It reminded him of pictures he had seen of the Washington monument. Gareth had always thought that obelisks were the preserve of ancient civilisations and lost empires. The thought that people were still building them in relatively recent Earth history struck him as odd. Something about it didn’t feel right. He thought it was unlikely as someone building a modern pyramid, before realising that people had done exactly that, he had visited the Louvre on a holiday he had taken once, and that had a giant glass pyramid directly in its courtyard. Never mind the massive one built in Las Vegas that hosted a casino. Some things never changed.

Around the obelisk was a thick line of Eternal runes, the symbols intended to bend reality to the carver’s will. There was a section missing, ready to receive the keystone in Gareth’s pocket. He reached inside to fish it out and was suddenly filled with panic.

His pocket was empty.

Panicking, he patted himself down, reaching into every pocket he could. He even unslung his backpack and reached inside, the enchanted bag understanding what he was searching for without any input from Gareth. Nothing. The only thing that seemed logical was that he had dropped it during the fight with the chameleon dinosaurs. With a long groan, Gareth turned around and began to retrace his steps. He needed to find the stone; Henig had been very clear that all four obelisks needed to be activated for the shield to work. Putting it in his pocket had been a catastrophically terrible idea.

“Fantastic, the tower is going to get smashed by a curious dragon because I couldn’t keep it in my trousers,” Gareth said. “Not in that way,” he corrected, despite no one being able to hear him. Splitting up had felt strange, Gareth had spent all his time on Acamida with the same group of people and it was impressive how quickly he had gotten used to that as his norm. From the party display in his vision, an omnipresent image that had quickly faded into the background, he could see some of them at least had been fighting, symbols appearing to show their mana and cards, the numbers shifting as they used them. He couldn’t worry about that now, finding the stone was the most important thing.

It took longer than Gareth would have liked to return to the scene of the battle, his attention scattered as he made his way through the forest, his eyes constantly glancing around looking for the keystone. He had come up short on the trip and his hopes were high that it was laying somewhere near the bodies of the predators.

His approach on the corpses was announced by loud squawking. Dozens of birds with large black wings and bald heads were picking at the bodies, working their way through the scales and into the valuable flesh they desired. They looked almost like vultures, but the birds were much smaller, an evolutionary cousin that had favoured speed and agility over the impressive bulk of their Earth counterparts. Gareth’s arrival had set them on edge. The birds had no frame of reference for what he was and were squawking loudly in an attempt to scare him off.

A faint glint caught his eye, the light sneaking between the tiny gaps in the canopy bouncing off the edge of something shiny. In the beak of one of the birds was a familiar sight, the keystone clutched like a prize. It was standing atop the body of the larger of the two predators, king of its slowly rotting castle.

“Right. Well, found the keystone at least,” Gareth said, keeping his voice to a whisper. “Now I just need to get it off that bird.” He was whispering, trying to keep his words quiet. It was a pointless exercise, there was no one to hear him and he could have simply kept his thoughts to himself. Talking aloud was something he did to help himself think, a habit Gareth knew could be a tad worrying for those who saw him do it. “I don’t suppose you birds speak, do you?” he said, somewhat louder.

There was no response, the birds continuing their angry cacophony. A handful of them edged closer towards Gareth, growing bold in their defiance.

“Fine,” Gareth said, examining the group around him. He found a suitable pointed rock and picked it up. “I didn’t want to do this, but I don’t see how I have much choice.”

He pulled his arm back, rock held tightly in his palm, stretching out like a baseball pitcher. He brought his arm forward rapidly, putting all the force he could muster behind the throw. The rock sailed through the air, soaring point first towards the bird holding the keystone.

Gareth’s aim was good, but the bird’s reactions were better. It leapt into the air with powerful wingbeats, the rock bouncing off the ancient’s hide where the bird had been standing. It came to a stop on a nearby tree, still clutching the keystone in its beak.

“I don’t have time for this,” Gareth said. The dragon had to be close now, and losing the tower wasn’t an option. He opened his deck back and summoned a hand of cards. Gareth wasn’t surprised to see that he only had two shields, the third not yet regenerated. He had to admit to himself that the magic was incredible and had saved his lives several times already.

In his hand was the card he was looking for. Gareth knew he had a decent chance of drawing it considering how small his deck was. That would change come the tournament, but Gareth had no intention of increase the number of cards he could use further, doing so would only dilute his chances of drawing what he needed at a given time. He selected the Lightning Blast and aimed it towards the bird.

“Sorry, buddy.”

Lightning launched out through the rainforest, the air filling with singed feathers and the smell of burning. The keystone fell, bouncing off the forest floor and coming to a stop in the dirt. Gareth walked over and picked it up, inspecting the stone for any damage. It seemed fine, though he couldn’t be entirely sure. The keystone was thousands of years old—a little wear and tear was to be expected.

He ran through the forest towards the obelisk, any wariness cast aside in Gareth’s haste. He wouldn’t live it down if he was the reason the plan failed and was fairly sure Magda would never talk to him again. Finding the truth of what was going on, or at least Henig’s version of it, had lit a fire within her, and Gareth didn’t want to be the one to snuff that out. The tower was going to stand, even if it meant he would have to stand and fight the dragon should the shield fail.

The trees moved by in a blur as Gareth raced past them. He leapt over roots and bounded over fallen trees with a grace that would have impressed Imelda, so would of course be impossible to do when someone else was watching him. It was typical for Gareth, everything he had done that was impressive had gone unwitnessed, his claims fundamentally unbelievable. He had slain the commander of the Republic forces, had defeated a cluster of nightmares in the undercity, and now he was moving through the rainforest like he had lived there his entire life. Gareth had wanted to prove himself worthy of being chosen as a hero, and the frustration at completing epic deeds that would go unacknowledged had filled his mind at night. Now he found that he didn’t care. The gods were playing a sick game with a handful of souls whilst they stripped the rest of their divine energy and cast them out to become monsters. Being a hero didn’t matter anymore, only writing that terrible wrong.

Gareth could make out the obelisk. A darkness was cast across it, the flying serpent’s shadow stretching out before it across the forest and blocking out what little light made it through the canopy. The beast was perilously close now, and Gareth was almost out of time.

Moving as quickly as he could, Gareth slammed the keystone into the waiting hole.

Nothing happened.

Gareth began to panic. Something was wrong, from what he had seen in the tower he expected the Eternal rune on the stone to glow, energy flowing out from it as its magic began to warp reality. His fingers scrambled at the edge as Gareth tried to prise the stone loose. He assumed that he had perhaps inserted it the wrong way and that the orientation of the rune mattered. Henig hadn’t said anything to that effect, but it wouldn’t surprise him if the lich had become scatter-brained after long millennia alone if he could be said to have a brain at all. The exact mechanics of eternal life as an undying skeleton weren’t important to Gareth, not right now at least.

As his fingers touched the edge of the stone, the rune began to glow. It wasn’t a solid light, the effect spluttering off and on. Gareth groaned—the stone had to have been damaged in some way during its brief history as a bird’s prized trinket. He regretted using his Lightning Blast to recover it, the powerful spell the probable source of the damage.

“Real smart, Gareth. Good job, idiot,” he said, chastising himself. Gareth had little he could do other than hope that the stone could still perform its job, acting as the missing link in the spell engraved around the obelisk.

The stone seemed to thrum, power flowing through it. There was a low hum, one which rose and fell in pitch like a second-hand fridge Gareth had once owned. It didn’t inspire confidence. The forest around the pillar began to shift and bend, reality fighting against its attempt to bend. Gareth could feel his stomach twisting like he was going over the crest of a rollercoaster over and over.

Light erupted from the ground near the obelisk, a wall of translucent blue stretching upwards into the sky. The canopy parted as the beam struck it, the thick branches of ancient trees pushed aside with trivial effort. Through the parting, Gareth could see the dragon clearly. It was nearly at the magical wall, the creature’s size almost unfathomable this close. The beast could easily have swallowed a car whole, its teeth as long as any man.

Something was terribly wrong, that much was obvious even to Gareth. In the sky, he could see the other sides of the barrier, an infinitely tall box stretching up into Acamida’s atmosphere. The other sides were much less transparent, their barriers seeming much more solid than Gareth’s. The damage to the stone had to be weakening the effect. All he could do was hope that it was still enough to keep the titan bearing down on the tower at bay.

The dragon wasn’t stupid, it saw the barrier rising before it. Light shimmered across the creature’s hide, a thousand colours cascading through its feathers and scales, a rainbow colour display that was oddly beautiful. It opened its maw and energy poured forth, a beam of pure radiant light. It struck the magical wall, the barrier bending under the onslaught.

Gareth could only stand and watch as the dragon’s incredible display of power met the shimmering field rising from the ground around him. Even he could sense the raw mana pouring from the dragon’s mouth. It was incredible. He understood that dragons were reflections of their surroundings and this one was displaying a connection to Acamida that could only come from having existed from its most primal age. The barrier was losing, being pushed backwards like a finger being pushed into the side of a balloon. It was growing more translucent by the moment, the power fading from it.

“No! No, no, no. I’m not going to be the one who messed this up,” Gareth said. He had to do something, anything, but he couldn’t fathom how he could compete with the sheer ferocity of the beam. “Come on Gareth, think, there’s got to be something you can do.”

The beam stopped; the dragon snapping its jaws shut. It began to dive, its coiling body going rigid like a spear. The barrier was still bent from the first attack, and it was clear that the dragon was going to bring its considerable force to bear against the field. It was determined to get inside. The beast had been kept away from one place within its considerable domain by a sickening feeling for as long as it could remember. It wanted to know what was within the barrier more than anything it had ever wanted.

The dragon slammed into the barrier head-first, striking where it had already buckled from its mana breath. The barrier bent further, the light that formed it starting to flicker.

Gareth couldn’t believe it. He had worked too hard to get to the tower, even if he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time. Delving beneath the mine, meeting Tax and the other spiders, braving the test of the tower itself. Everything would be for nothing if the dragon was allowed to bring it tumbling down. There had to be something that Gareth could do, and he tried to focus his mind despite the blazing light before him.

“Of, course, Tax,” he said. There was one thing Gareth could try, one thing only he could do.

He took a few brave steps forward towards the barrier. The dragon had gripped on with its vestigial claws, the barrier shifting beneath them but not breaking. Light was flashing down its unending body, the creature readying itself to unleash another blast of energy at point-blank range.

“Hey, you!” Gareth roared, shouting as hard as he could to get the dragons attention. “Yeah, you! What do you think you’re doing.” Gareth knew he was gambling. He had no way of knowing if the dragon was sentient, or if it was simply an animal of colossal size. The much smaller one Gareth had slain hadn’t spoken, though in truth Gareth hadn’t thought to try talking to it.

A blast shot forth, energy pouring from the maw of the dragon. The barrier shattered, exploding outwards with a blast of incredible force. The fragments faded out of existence as they dropped to the ground, the dragon landing with a thump that shook the earth.

Gareth was in incredible pain. The force had lifted him clear off the ground, his body striking the thick trunk of an ancient tree behind him. His chest stung as if pierced by a thousand needles, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. He rolled over in the dirt and tried to stand, only to find that his legs were resisting his commands, his muscles screaming in agony.

The dragon slithered closer, its tiny legs useless on the ground. It brought its snout down to the minuscule human before it. It nudged the creature gently and was pleased to see that it groaned, a sign it was still alive.

“Did, did you speak to me, tiny creature?” the dragon said. It had an oddly smooth voice, the kind that wouldn’t have sounded out of place narrating a nature documentary.

“I did,” Gareth said. His chest was throbbing as he spoke. He was in no state to be chatting freely, a faint wheeze behind his voice signalling something was very wrong with him. Gareth noted that his shield hadn’t protected him, not registering the shattering of the barrier as an attack.

“How intriguing. I have lived for untold centuries, and yet I have never seen one of your kind able to speak draconic. This is most unexpected.”

Gareth winced as he pulled himself to a seated position. Each time the dragon spoke he could feel its hot breath washing over him. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. “Well, to be fair, we didn’t expect you to show up. Why? Why attack us?”

“Attack? I was simply satisfying my curiosity. This place has been a mystery to me for a long time, it used to give out an aura that made me feel unbelievably ill. Now I can sense that has faded to where I can cope with it, I thought it the perfect chance to investigate. Of course, then I encountered this barrier, though obviously, it wasn’t enough to keep me out. There used to be a city here, did you know that?”

“I did. Do you remember the city?”

“Oh of course. Lots of you little creatures running around it. I had to keep my distance back then though, I couldn’t imagine my presence would have been welcome, and I was rather less powerful than I am now.”

“What’s your name?” Gareth said. “I’m Gareth.”

“Luthorastikax,” the dragon replied.

“I’ll just call you Luthor, I’m not going to remember all of that,” Gareth said. He wondered why monsters seemed to have unpronounceable names. “Look, we’re no threat to you Luthor, obviously. We raised this barrier because we were worried you might destroy the tower.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do that. Well, unless it was dangerous in some way.”

“It’s not. Look, I’m more than willing to show it to you if you really want to see it. You’ll have to forgive me though, I’m not exactly in a good condition to walk through the jungle.” It was getting harder to breathe. Gareth was no doctor, but he was certain he had punctured a lung or at least broken a rib or two. “There’s no need for us to fight.”

“Agreed. Though I wish you had attempted to talk to me before raising that barrier.” The dragon shifted its body, knocking over several trees behind it in the process.

Gareth could see the obelisk now, or at least what was left of it. The prehistoric relic was glowing, the mana flowing through it heating the stone until it was molten, great globs running down the side as the obelisk melted like a candle. No matter what happened next, it was obvious that the barrier would be useless in the future.

“Can you blame us? Most humans can’t speak with monsters like me.”

“I’m certainly not a fan of being called a monster, but I understand what you mean. Humans? Is that what your people are called?” It was striking just how easy-going the dragon seemed. The truth was the beast was so large, and so powerful, that it simply didn’t need to adopt a threatening persona.

“Amongst others. Give me a moment, and I’ll show you to the tower.” Diplomacy struck Gareth as the best course of action, now that the barrier had failed. Fighting the dragon was out of the question.

“No need,” Luthor said, shifting his body until one of his arms was near Gareth. Whilst tiny compared to the dragon, it was more than large enough to scoop up Gareth, along with a sizeable clod of earth from behind him. “Hold on tight,” Luthor said as he began to beat his wings.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Imelda burst through the treeline, the tower looming above her as she drew closer. Magda and Sarkuran were standing by the door to the tower, but Gareth was nowhere in sight. Something had gone wrong; Imelda already knew that. The barrier had been visible through the gaps in the canopy as she ran back, and it was obvious one side of the rectangular shield had been flawed in some way. It seemed almost thinner than the others, like the magic forming it wasn’t as strong. That side had been the one for Gareth’s obelisk, and that he hadn’t yet returned didn’t bode well.

“No sign of Gareth yet?” she asked as she reached the others, on the off chance he had perhaps gone inside the tower or returned to the forest for some reason.

“No. Honestly I’m a little worried,” Magda said. She had her arms wrapped tight around herself, almost like she was cold. Magda’s eyes turned towards the dragon. It had almost reached the barrier, flying directly at where Gareth would be. Light was coruscating across its body. “This doesn’t feel right.”

A moment later the sky filled with brilliant light as the dragon unleashed its beam against the barrier. Deeper in the forest Gareth was frantically deciding what to do, but for his friends it was obvious. The creature was going to break through the barrier, the way the magic bent under the onslaught was proof that it couldn’t withstand the dragon’s might. Whatever had gone wrong would doom the tower.

“Right, that’s not going to end well, is it?” Imelda said, pointing towards the dragon. “We need to prepare ourselves here, get ready for a fight.”

“We can’t take that thing on,” Magda said. “Look at the size of it!”

“We can. We can do what we did with the giant during the siege. If we employ Imelda’s Hidden Blade it can destroy the creature in a single blow. Provided we can hold out long enough for her to draw it. That’s one of the downsides to it being a legendary card,” Sarkuran said. He was stroking his chin, a sure-fire sign he was deep in thought. “Perhaps we can intercept the creature nearer the barrier, keep the fight away from the tower? Though then we would have to contend with ancients in the forest taking the opportunity to snag some easy prey. It’s possible that the dragon might be intimidating enough to keep them away…”

“Ok, whilst he’s plotting something, we need to warn Henig,” Imelda said. “Maybe the tower has one last line of defence or something like that? It did have those elementals inside it when we climbed it. Maybe he can make some more?”

“Maybe? You think Gareth is ok?” Magda’s eyes were fixed on the dragon. It had slammed into the barrier and was preparing to fire another blast of energy. The barrier didn’t look like it would survive the onslaught.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He might not look it, but he’s a survivor. I kind of wish he was here, if anyone could think of a way out of this, it’s him.”

The barrier shattered, its magic losing to the wrath of the dragon. Even at the tower, the force of the blast could be felt, the shockwave rattling the stone and knocking its three defenders to the ground. The trees bent to one side whilst the bellows of startled ancients echoed from within the jungle. The dragon landed on the ground with a thump that shook the already stunned duellists. The other sides of the barrier faded, the magic failing all around the tower.

“Why isn’t it attacking?” Sarkuran said. “The beast should press its advantage.”

“Maybe it’s found something else interesting? Gods I hope Gareth isn’t doing something stupid,” Imelda said. “Like trying to fight the thing on his own. Should we go help him?”

“No,” Sarkuran said, placing a hand on the tower’s wall to steady himself as he stood up. “It’ll take us too long to reach him, and if he loses then we need to be ready to defend the tower. It changes nothing, other than buying us more time.”

Neither woman commented on the fact that Sarkuran sounded like he was assuming Gareth would lose. They both knew that it was the most likely outcome, even if he had a knack for pulling a winning move out of his deck whenever he needed one. Gareth’s luck was immeasurable, but it was bound to run out at some point.

“Ok, so, we need to warn Henig,” Imelda said. “We need all hands pulling the tent for this one.”

“All hands pulling the tent?” Magda muttered, not understanding the idiom.

“I believe she means we must work together,” Sarkuran said, leaning towards Magda and whispering his thoughts to her.

“Yes. I would have thought that was obvious, come on, let’s go and see the lich.”

“That will not be necessary, as I’ve come to see you,” said a voice from within the open doorway of the tower. The platform was still on the floor where the party had left it. Instead, the lich was simply floating slowly downwards. “The barrier appears to be broken, so I trust our scaly friend is on his way?”

“Not right now. It’s landed for the moment,” Magda said. “How did you do that floating thing?”

“It’s a safety feature built into the lift. If you leap into the gap, you’ll just drift gently downwards. You were always concerned about safety, your holiness. Kindness is in your nature.”

“Hah!” Sarkuran said, barely containing his disdain. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve not seen this one the morning after one too many ales in the tavern we live in. I suspect that were Magda still in possession of her full powers then the entire universe would be suffering due to her hangover.”

“That’s not important now, Sark.” Magda stressed the nickname that Gareth had given Sarkuran, well aware it was something he hated. “Is there anything you can do to help defend the tower, Henig?”

“Unfortunately, no. My energies are being focused on restoring the aura that keeps monsters at bay. Whilst I’m doing that, I simply don’t have the mana to summon anything. A shame really, I would rather have preferred not to see my life end in this manner.” The skeleton stepped out of the doorway and into the bright sun. His skull gleamed as though it had been polished. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stepped outside of the tower. I never realised just how much I missed the fresh air.”

Magda opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again, realising her questions didn’t matter right now. If they survived, then she would try and remember to ask Henig how exactly enjoying fresh air worked when he had no lungs with which to breathe or skin upon which to feel a gentle breeze.

A powerful wing beat shook the jungle, the air pushed downwards by the great leathery sails rushing through the forest like a hurricane. The dragon lifted into the air in defiance of all physics and with just a few impressive motions soared over to by the tower, the distance between the structure and the obelisks nothing to the great beast.

“Ok, well, moment of truth,” Imelda said, opening her deck box. She glanced at her cards and then shook her head side to side. There was no Hidden Blade amongst the five that had emerged from the box. “Any other ideas?”

“We stand and fight. I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of going down easily. I didn’t build an empire or travel a thousand years into the future to just give up,” Sarkuran said. He had adopted a low crouch, his pose an entirely unnecessary fighting stance.

“Just the one millennium? That’s nothing, really,” Henig said. “I find the longer you live for, the faster time seems to move. A single millennium is a blink of the eye for me now.”

“Can we not?” Magda said. Light formed before her as a creature took shape, an angel with an elegant horn in its hand. It blew loudly, a pair of cards floating out of Magda’s deck box. They were an Angel of the Legion, along with a Cherub Archer. Golden sparks flew out from each, imbuing the Angelic Herald with additional strength. “Attack!” she shouted, pointing to the dragon.

The tower shook as the creature landed, its body falling flat onto the grass and slithering about like a snake rather than using its vestigial limbs. It looked at the angel rushing it with curiosity, the winged humanoid brandishing its horn like a weapon. The instrument struck the dragons snout only to bounce off. The dragon flicked its tail like a whip, the angel exploding into golden light instantly as it was struck.

Words flowed from the dragon’s mouth, thick guttural syllables, each carrying the weight of a mountain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Magda said. Like Gareth, she could speak any language, a leftover ability from her godly form her tormentors had seen fit to leave her with. “Seriously?”

“What did it say?” Sarkuran said, intrigued as to why the massive beat had seen the need to speak at all.

“It said, you are right, they would attack immediately. There’s only one person it could be speaking to unless you know anyone else who speaks dragon?”

“I understood the beast,” Henig said. “The gift of understanding is one of the many boons that Magdalena bestowed upon her children. It’s how I’m able to speak to you. I assumed you knew that. It would be rather unlikely someone from a civilisation thousands of years older than yours would speak your tongue.” Henig held up his arm, pulling the sleeve of the robe down slightly to expose his radius, a single Eternal rune carved into the bone. “Most people had this as a tattoo, but well that’s not really an option for me. It’s rather straightforward, the rune just means understanding.”

More words boomed from the dragon, deep and bassy as they rumbled through the air.

“Oh dear,” Henig said. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What? We don’t understand, remember?” Imelda said. Her voice was filled with frustration. It was bad enough she didn’t speak the dragon’s language, but the situation was so tense, so fraught with danger, that it was making her feel useless.

Henig didn’t need to translate the dragon’s words. The creature slithered forward, opening one of its hands and setting down what was within delicately on the dirt. It was Gareth, and from the state of him, he was seriously injured. A large bruise was spreading up his neck whilst his breathing was ragged. The dragon spoke again, its words solemn.

“He didn’t mean to do this,” Magda said. “Gareth was injured by accident.”

“Hey…” Gareth said, the word spluttered and pained. He tried to raise a hand, giving up halfway. “The barrier-breaking did this, not Luthor.”

“The dragon's name is Luthor? That doesn’t seem likely,” Imelda said.

“We couldn’t pronounce his full name. Not to seem needy, but I would very much like to lie down for a bit. Luthor isn’t dangerous, just curious. Can’t say I blame him. If I saw a sign over a door that said no entry every day for years, and one day it was gone, you bet I would walk through it.”

“Shut up!” Magda said, pointing at Gareth. “It obviously hurts to talk. You don’t want to make this worse.” There were tears welling up in her eyes. It was clear even to her that Gareth’s injuries were severe. It would be touch and go at Wildermount, here in the rainforest, days away from the city even using the teleportation platforms, it was a cataclysmic level of injury.

Magda had spent as long as she could remember sorting souls, judging who was worthy of being a hero and sending them off to be reborn, or at least that’s what she had been told she was doing. Magda thought she understood death, that she knew what it meant, but facing it down like this, in a very real way for the first time in her life, was almost overwhelming. She didn’t understand how mortals could cope.

“Oh, I can help with this,” Henig said, crouching down near Gareth. Seeing a skeleton looming above wasn’t the best thing for a seriously injured person to see. “I can rearrange the floors of the tower, there is a hospital wing I can slide in to replace one of the floors. Doing so would take all the energy I can muster. It would certainly mean switching off the repelling aura entirely.

Luthor spoke, his words shaking the people before him.

“He says he will protect the tower, in the aura’s stead,” Magda said. “He’s offering to act as a temporary guardian.”

“Do you think he’s genuine?” Sarkuran said. “We could be entrusting our defence to a creature that seeks to destroy us.”

“I think if he wanted to do that then he would have done that already,” Imelda said. “I don’t see how we have much choice.”

“Do it,” Magda said, nodding towards Henig. “Well, Luthor, I hope you’re true to your word.”

***

Gareth opened his eyes wearily. He had passed out as the others had carried him into the tower, the pain simply too much for him any longer. He found himself within a stone cylinder, light flowing from a series of blue crystals studded around the inside. From the Eternal etched into the stone he assumed he was still within the tower, either that or he had died and reincarnated on yet another world that had felt Magda’s touch.

“Hello? Is there anyone there?” Gareth said. He immediately noticed that it was far easier to breathe, the pain in his chest nearly gone. Trying to move his limbs experimentally, Gareth was pleased to find they responded quickly. There were a few aches here and there, but he had been worried there would permanent damage.

“Stay still for the moment,” Henig said. “It will take some time for the mana field around you to fade. Moving too much might result in things ending up not quite where they should be.”

The lich’s voice was reassuring, despite the grave warning it delivered. It confirmed to Gareth that he hadn’t gone hurtling through the afterlife a second time.

“What is this thing?” Gareth said, trying to keep himself as still as possible.

“A recuperation chamber. Another gift from her holiness. Whilst you’re within the chamber the magical field generated by the Eternal within will knit together any wounds you have. It’s effective, but slow, you’ve been in there just over two weeks.”

“Two weeks! What happened, is the tower ok? How are my friends?”

“The others are fine. They left you in my care for a few days to collect supplies from the place you call Wildermount, but otherwise have been staying in the tower since then. The tower itself is fine. Luthor has been acting as its guardian, and I dare say he rather seems to be enjoying the role. That’s hardly surprising, dragons are beings with an intrinsic link for mana, and the tower was built on a large conflux of leylines. The magic here is something of an endless feast for him. Our arrangement is mutually beneficial.”

Quest Complete! Secret Objective Achieved – Befriend the dragon and prevent the destruction of the tower.

2500 experience points earned. 2500 bonus experience earned for secret objective.

Level up – Level 22 gained.

Five skill points gained.

Level up – Level 23 gained.

Five skill points gained.

Level up – Level 24 gained.

Current Exp 163/1896

Five skill points gained.

The bombardment of experience points and levels was astounding. With the level he had gained trying to get to the obelisk, Gareth had twenty points ready to spend. That meant he had nine spare after the eleven he needed to increase the mana limit for the deck he had designed. Nine was an odd number, all of his other skills needed five to gain an actual benefit. With nothing else to do he opened his menu and examined his options.

Increasing his mana was the most obvious upgrade. More mana orbs were always useful, especially with the higher concentration of expensive cards Gareth would be using. He considered his other skills to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Both Duellist and Goblinkin would be useful upgrades, especially considering the upcoming tournament, but they would be even better if Gareth had more cards to multiply their effects. It was a balancing act and Gareth had to work out if the increased statistics on his average board equalled another card. Probably not once those boosting skills were ironically taken into account. For now, Gareth put five points into his Mana Reserve skill, then the remaining four into Goblinkin. If he was right about the progression of his skill points in relation to his level, he would get six next time, enough to drop five points into something and then the single point to round out Goblinkin.

“It shouldn’t take much longer for the mana field to fade. I shall go collect your friends. They’ll be most relieved to hear you are awake finally. I shall return momentarily.” Henig’s departure was signalled only by the sound of bony feet clattering against the stone floor.

“I’ll just lay here then,” Gareth said. He hated the idea that he had slept so long. The tournament would be happening soon, and he had done almost nothing to prepare. He had assumed he would have weeks of questing ahead of him. It was just sheer luck that talking to Luthor had earned more than defeating him. Not that Gareth could have done that, he was certain the dragon could have wiped out everyone in moments.

His nose itched. Henig hadn’t told him if he could move yet, so Gareth didn’t, fearful he could shift his kidneys into his lungs or something equally as painful. He tried to ignore it, which of course only made the itch a thousand times worse.

Now he was aware of the stone cylinder around him, Gareth was starting to feel claustrophobic. He wanted nothing more than to clamber out from the magical device and walk around. He realised he was still wearing the clothes he had been in during his rush to the obelisk. Spending two weeks in the same outfit without washing meant it had had to stink. He wondered how he had been fed during that time; he wasn’t hungry at the moment. It had to be a function of the Eternal powered machine.

Several excruciating minutes passed as the itch grew more intense by the moment. It was difficult to gauge how long it had been since Henig had left without anything to look at aside from the stone above.

The clacking of bone announced the return of the lich, along with the clomping of boots.

“You should be ok to move now,” Henig said. “Probably. I must admit I was a priest in my former life, not a doctor. I am relying on the automatic functions of the machine. If you could pull on the bottom of the tray, please?”

Gareth felt himself moving, a loud clacking noise echoing in the cylinder as it seemed to slide away above him. The faces of his friends appeared above, friendly hands helping Gareth to a seated position. He realised he had been laying on a sheet of perfectly flat stone, a rolled-up sleeping bag placed as a cushion behind his head. The sheet was laying on a line of rollers that allowed it to slide back and forth into the chamber. It reminded Gareth of an MRI machine, one that relied on the magic of a deity to work.

“You alright?” Magda said, placing her hand on Gareth’s. “You gave us a fright there.”

“I think so? I feel an ache here and there, but I’m not dead, so that’s an improvement. What have you been doing for the past two weeks?”

“Oh, we’ve been busy,” Imelda said, a smile stretched wide across her face. “Come on. Let’s get you up and walking about, and you’ll see.”

***

Pink crystal surrounded the tower, clusters of them placed around the bases of what remained of the statues. They were immediately familiar, as were the creatures scuttling around it. About a dozen or so of the crystal spiders were making themselves at home around the tower. Beyond them, at the edge of the treeline, was Luthor. The great dragon coiled around the entire perimeter and was sleeping on the end of his tail.

“What is all this?” Gareth said. He was standing in Henig’s office, looking through the windows at the landscape below. “You brought some of the spiders here?”

“We did,” Magda said. “You inspired that, actually. With talking to Luthor instead of fighting. You did the same thing with the spiders and honestly, it seemed like such a perfect idea. The anti-monster aura is gone, and this place is riddled with mana, more even than the cavern. And here, no one will bother them again, not with our giant friend there standing guard. Or well lying guard at least. Luthor doesn’t need to do much, just being here keeps the ancients away.”

“I thought that arrangement was temporary?”

“Luthor says that the sheer amount of mana here makes it far more suitable as a home than the mountain he previously lived on. He’s more than happy to stay here,” Henig said. “And I must say, I am very pleased to have him. It feels right for life to return to these lands, even if it isn’t human life. All creatures bear the spark of Magdalena.”

“And Tax was ok bringing her people here?” Gareth was still watching the spiders moving below. They were spinning elaborate structures of webbing, an outer wall forming just beside the sleeping dragon. It probably wasn’t necessary, the dragon would be tougher than any bulwark, but it probably made the spiders feel useful.

“Oh yes. I got Henig to switch off the kind of micro aura the teleportation platform had for the time being so we can bring them through. We’ve been escorting groups of them back and forth. Only a small number have come through, some want to stay in the cavern, there are still plenty of eggs waiting to hatch, but I think their numbers will grow with time.” Magda pressed her face to the glass next to Gareth’s. “It just, felt right, you know? I, well the old me, built this place to be a home. Having it stand empty was just sad.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

“I must say, it is interesting to see such blatant empire building going on considering all the vitriol that’s been thrown my way,” Sarkuran said. His tone was light, playful. He wasn’t being serious.

“It’s hardly building an empire,” Magda said, gesturing at the tableau below. “More, giving people a safe home, one where they won’t want for anything.”

“That is the ultimate goal of an empire, peace and prosperity for its people. And power for its ruler, of course. One is the inevitable outcome of the other.”

“Yeah well, I’m with Magda here. I have no intentions of doing all that base building, town management nonsense you see in video games. If it helps someone out, we’ll let them stay at the tower, but otherwise, we’re not going to go looking for trouble,” Gareth said.

“I have no idea what a video game is, but I can tell you this,” Sarkuran took a seat in Henig’s stone chair, lifting his legs and resting them atop a pile of books, “once you start doing something like this, trouble comes looking for you. There’s always someone else who will think you’re a useful addition to their empire, and its best to absorb them before they absorb you.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jack hugged the wall, his arms clasping desperately to the edge of a window frame. He was regretting his choice of entry point, the open window on the second floor too tempting a way in. Of course, that had meant leaping upwards using the runic item on his shoulder, and he had gotten the angle wrong, bumping up against the wall and being forced to grab on for dear life. It wasn’t his finest moment as a masked vigilante, and Jack was glad no one was watching. He didn’t want this particular farce to appear in one of the many copper dreadfuls that were being written about him. Jack wasn’t the biggest fan of having an entire literary canon building up around him. Some of the things those books claimed were unbelievable, and Jack wasn’t sure setting expectations that high was a good thing in the long run.

Finding his footing, he pushed forward with the tips of his toes, tumbling through the open window and rolling across the floor. It was typical, his floundering on the outside of the house had been in full view, whilst his slick maneuverers within were hidden from prying eyes.

Jack could hear sounds from the room below, pained grunting that told him he was in the right place. He had been tracking his target for nearly three weeks, gathering what information he could about the spate of murders occurring across the city. Jack was certain there was a pattern forming, the kills taking place across several concentric circles, each evenly spaced apart. If he was right, the house he was in was the next target, the killings completed in accordance with the phases of Acamida’s two moons.

Light danced around him as Jack summoned two monsters. The creatures were slathering things of tight sinew and leathery skin. Upon the head of each ghoul was a crown of bones, the monsters expensive but powerful Ghoul Kings. The murderer Jack was chasing had killed sixteen people, that he was aware of. They were dangerous, and Jack knew that he would need more strength on his side than his usual zombies.

“Ok lads,” Jack said, his voice kept to a whisper. “Remember, not killing, got it?”

The Ghoul Kings just groaned in response.

Jack was pleased. Whilst he had no problem taking the law into his own hands, he also had no intention of becoming a murderer in the process. In his opinion that would make him no better than the person he was chasing. The plan was to capture them, then leave them at the nearest guard station with a note and a packet of all the evidence he had collected.

The room he was in was being used for storage, large pieces of furniture covered by thick white sheets filling it like trees in a forest. There was a door at the far side, and Jack stepped carefully forwards, gripping the knob and turning it slowly. It led directly into a landing atop some stairs. The grunting grew immediately louder, the door no longer blocking part of the sound. It was the final dying groans of the murderer’s latest victim. Jack cursed under his breath, he had hoped he could have saved the life of the homeowner, but it seemed like he was too late. All he could do was catch the culprit and save untold lives in the future.

A sickening wet slapping told Jack all he needed to know about what the murderer was doing. Every murder had been the same, some profane rune drawn out in the organs of the slain. Jack didn’t know why his quarry was doing that, and he honestly didn’t care to find out. Trying to understand the thoughts of a madman struck him as a one-way ticket to the asylum himself.

“Ok, down you go,” Jack said pointing to the stairs. “Quietly.” He knew that his monsters probably wouldn’t understand the second part. They were creatures of pure mana, nothing more than energy given form. They had only the barest scraps of true intelligence, which was probably for the best considering that real ghouls were creatures that plagued graveyards, feeding on the recently deceased. There were rumours that they had once been human, centuries ago, but that constant cannibalism had devolved them into creatures that were only technically alive.

The ghouls moved down the stairs on all fours, their crowns rattling on their brows as the bones shifted with their movements. They moved with an unpleasant jerking like their muscles were too short for their bones. Not for the first time, Jack felt cursed that his affinity was for the undead. He would have loved to have gotten angels, or merfolk, something that was at least pleasant to look at. Something with lots of female humanoids but not too many clothes.

The sounds were coming from a room to the immediate right at the bottom of the staircase.  The groaning had stopped, only the off-putting wet squelching remaining. Jack had chosen the window as his entry point so he could catch the culprit unawares but had forgotten that meant seeing the grisly ritual in action.

A loud bang made him jump, something slamming against the wood of the door to the house, placed at the end of a short corridor to the left of the stairs. There was another loud thud. Someone was trying to force their way through into the house.

“Now? Really?” Jack couldn’t believe his bad luck. He knew instantly who was at the door. The city guard hadn’t taken the murders seriously at first, what scraps of intel he was able to glean from carefully deployed questions and drinks in a dozen different taverns confirming it had taken them a long time to even link the murders together. The guards of different tiers didn’t seem to interact with one another at all, something that Jack made sure to keep in his back pocket once he could return to liberating ill-gotten funds.

The sickening noises stopped, replaced by a loud crash. The knocking on the door had given away the element of surprise. Jack had two choices. He could flee back the way he came to avoid what he was assuming were guards trying to force their way in, or he could chase the murderer and try to catch them, risking his own arrest in the process.

He let out a sigh, the sound distorted by his mask. Jack turned and headed towards where the murderer was. He assumed that he could at least attempt to escape the guards, and catching the killer was the most important thing. Jack reasoned that if he was going to crusade for justice during the night, then that needed to come first. He had always been the kind of person who half-hearted everything, and when he had taken on his new persona Jack had promised himself that wouldn’t be the case anymore.

“In there!” he said, ordering his ghouls forward. Any need for caution or stealth was gone. The ghouls rushed through the doorway, Jack following right behind them.

The door to the house smashed open, its wood frame splintering from the force. Two guards piled through, and from the glance that Jack gave them, he recognised who it was.

“City guard! Stop right there!” Mike said, pointing towards the person he knew as the Lich. He hadn’t expected to find the vigilante here, he had come looking for the serial killer stalking the streets of Wildermount, the other tiers finally handing over what information they had. Working out a pattern had been a fairly simple process once he had every case before him, the locations marked out on a map he had pinned to his wall.

“Not the time lawman!” Jack stepped into the other room. The sight was disgusting, two middle-aged humans, one man and one woman, ripped open, their entrails dragged across the room in an elaborate pattern. A loud clattering drew his attention, his eyes snapping to an open window through which a pair of boots was currently dangling, the murderer’s attempt at climbing through not going well. “Grab him!”

The ghouls reached out, their leathery fingers snatching at the heels of the fleeing culprit. The boots—along with the feet filling them— slid through, their robed owner escaping the clutches of the undead.

Jack swore under his breath and began to climb through the window himself.

“I said stop!” Mike said, drawing the sword at his hip. “I will use this if I have to!”

“Look, the guy you’re after, the one who has been doing all these murders? He’s getting away right now. You can try and bring me in if you like, but I’m assuming you would much rather catch a murderer than someone like me.”

“He’s got a point, Cap,” Mavis said. She had followed Mike through the doorway, as eager to catch the murderer as he was.

“Fine, but I’m going to pick you up as well once this is done,” Mike said.

“If you can!” Jack climbed through the window and dropped into the alleyway beyond. His ghouls followed, their attempts to get through far less graceful and elegant. He examined the alleyway. The robed figure was fleeing on foot towards the end. They had broken into a sprint, eager to escape their multiple pursuers. “I guess we’re running.”

He snapped shut his deck box, the ghouls vanishing. They wouldn’t be able to keep up anyway. Jack began to run, touching the metal pauldron on this left shoulder as he did. Immediately he felt lighter, the magic of the runic item kicking in.

He jumped, angling himself towards the wall of a house that ran adjacent to the alleyway. Twisting about in the air he landed feet first against the brick and kicked off it, rocketing at an angle towards where the alleyway met the street. He flew out of the exit, his momentum enough to send him hurtling towards a greengrocer at the far side, his boots thudding against the wooden sign. He pushed off, bouncing back towards the alleyway.

The robed figure turned to face its flying attacker; their features obscured by a simple wooden mask painted black. Bloodstained hands moved towards something hidden inside the robe, a swirl of light escaping as the murderer drew a hand of cards. They selected one quickly, a creature forming before them.

Jack couldn’t move, his momentum causing him to crash into the newly formed beast. It was a hulking thing, a green-skinned brute with gangly arms and a stooped posture. Its breath was rancid, and drool dripped out from between its gnarled tusks. Jack struck the cobblestone and found himself staring up at the troll looming over him.

“Oh, of course,” Jack said, standing to his feet. “That makes too much sense.” He drew his own hand of cards. If the madman standing before him wanted a fight, then Jack would give it to him.

“You don’t understand what you’re meddling with,” the robed figure said. Their voice wasn’t distorted like Jack’s was, their mask nothing more than simple wood. It was obvious they were a man, but Jack didn’t recognise the voice specifically.

“Don’t care really. I’ve done some horrible stuff in my life, but I’ve never killed anyone. There’s a line you just don’t cross.”

“Who are you to decide what’s right or wrong? Some idiot in a mask thinking he’s doing good? What have you really done for the people? Have you raised them from their misery, or just given some minuscule relief, the false belief that things can get better?”

“I’ve done what I can,” Jack said. “I think that’s all anyone can ask. How does murdering people help anyone?”

“It will. It is beyond your comprehension.”

“Stop right there!” Mike had rounded the corner, his armour clanking as he moved, Mavis at his back. He was pointing at the magical fight brewing in the street. “You’re under arrest!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this. Much is left to be done,” the robed figure said. He turned his head towards the troll. “Kill them.”

The troll surged forward, swinging wildly with the wicked claws at the end of each thin finger. It was aiming for the two guards, the great talons threatening to tear their armour apart.

Golden light filled the night air for just a brief moment. Jack had nothing against Mike personally and if he was going to take the safety of the people upon his shoulders, the guards counted just as much as anyone. He had thrown himself before the troll, willingly taking the impact of the strike upon his shield.

“That’s not very nice,” Jack said, casting a spell. Chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around the arms of the troll before locking themselves into place with great iron shackles around its wrists. The beast looked strong, so Jack had chosen to lower its statistics before sending one of his monsters out against it. His undead could return over and over but lacked individual power.

The troll tried to raise its arms to strike again, finding its movement slowed by the heavy chains. A new adversary took shape before it, a skeleton clad in rusted armour and clutching a worn scimitar. The troll was momentarily confused by the arrival of a new adversary. With its duellist getting further away, the magical creature was relying more on the spark of intelligence hidden deep within its core.

The skeleton struck, swinging its sword in a sweeping arc. Black energy followed it, magical power flowing through the blade. It sliced across the chest of the troll, the creature staggering backwards as it fought to free itself from the chains binding it.

The wound immediately began to close, showing the dangerous ability that trolls were well known for. Real trolls, the kind that could be found lurking in rocky valleys and canyons, could regenerate entire parts of their body,

“You need to do more than that!” Mike said. He had drawn his sword and was brandishing it in the direction of the troll.

“I know!” Jack looked at his cards through the holes in his mask. He needed to hit the troll not harder, but simply more frequently. Overcoming the enemy’s regeneration would take consistent strikes. He added a Shambling Zombie to the fight, the creature weak and easy to kill, but Jack had a plan.

The chains binding the troll shattered—their magic weakening quickly. The fragments faded out as they fell, leaving only crimson motes of light on the ground. Now freed, the beast struck again, this time balling its right arm into a fist and smashing its knuckles into the armoured skeleton.

The undead monster stumbled as it was hit, the helmet it was wearing flying off and bouncing off the cobblestones. It remained standing, taking a moment to slow its jaw back into place, the bone coming loose from the punch.

Jack couldn’t help but smile. The Grave Wight was a recent addition to his arsenal, and its extra hit point was proving incredibly useful. Jack’s big play was the same as it had always been, but the extra toughness of the wight made it much easier to achieve.

He selected a card from his hand, a ball of light forming in the air above his two monsters. His zombie and wight transformed into streaks of indigo energy, merging with the orb and streaking it through like marble. A new creature took shape, a hideous mass of man-shaped flesh, the head of the zombie sticking out of its chest. Mixed in with its body were fragments of bone and armour, the remnants of the wight making themselves known. The Flesh Golem was a powerful monster, destroying ones that Jack already had in play to add their strength to its own.

“That’s disgusting!” Mavis said, putting her hand over her nose. The creature had no stench, the smell thankfully not something recreated by the summoning process, but it was an unpreventable instinct on her part.

“And really familiar,” Mike said. He had seen such a creature before. Whilst there were many undead users, there was also a massive array of possible cards. Seeing the same creature twice was unlikely, though admittedly not impossible. The facts were adding up though, the undead affinity, the golem, the assumption that the Lich had to be from the lowest tier of the city considering where they had focused their attention. “Jack?”

“Don’t know who that is!” Jack said, his denial not entirely convincing.

“It is you! You little bastard! You know how much trouble you’ve caused? Of course, it was you, it had to be someone from my neck of the woods didn’t it. I swear I’m going to wring your neck myself. You won’t need a bloody trial!” Mike had turned a shade of purple, the light from the oil streetlamp above making it seem darker than it really was.

“I’m a little busy right now! Unless you want a troll to crush you?” Jack watched as his flesh golem struck the troll with a thunderous slap, amorphous flesh meeting leathery hide. The troll reeled but would quickly regenerate the damage.

Jack needed to add more pressure, luckily for him, he was easily able to do so. He activated his feat by selecting the wight’s card, the used summon floating next to his normal hand though it was translucent and grey. His The Dead Return feat could summon a destroyed monster. It was a little odd that the wight still lived on as part of the golem, but he wasn’t going to question the logic of it.

The Grave Wight formed, not from the golden radiant power of a card, but from scraps of purple light so dark as to be nearly black. Jack suspected that the wight’s strength wasn’t quite enough to fight the troll alone, so he selected the card thrumming with golden power that had formed part of his shield.

Summon the Legions was a powerful, if expensive, spell. Thankfully it being a shield card made casting it free, and its effect to search his deck for another copy of a monster he had already summoned was a powerful one. He added another Flesh Golem to his selection of cards, quickly summoning it.

The wight was absorbed by the new arrival, the second golem taking up position next to its brethren. The troll had just struck at the other, only to be rebuffed by its considerable strength.

The golems went to work, swinging their arms wildly as they pummelled blow after blow onto the troll. The creature tried to fight back, but it was in vain, the golems just shrugging off its punches and slashes. The wight re-emerged in a pillar of purple light, its blade adding to the onslaught against the troll. The outcome was an inevitability, the troll would be worn down over time.

That was time Jack didn’t have. The robed duellist had fled the entire time, running as fast as they could down the street. Already he had vanished into the darkness, and Jack was worried the longer this took, the less likely he was to find them again. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, the troll could easily kill the two guards. It was difficult to quantify the statistics of a person the same way you could with a monster, but realistically speaking most humans never got beyond the equivalent of one or two hundred attack rating, and certainly never rose above one hit point.

“They’re going to get away if you don’t hurry this up!” Mavis said. She tried to lean around the battling monsters, briefly considering trying to slip past.

“You’re welcome to fight this monster on your own if you want!” Jack wasn’t a fan of the ungrateful attitude, but he understood the impatience.

The troll staggered backwards as it took another punch from a golem, clutching at its chest. Patches of its hide had turned a darker green, the damage overcoming its regeneration. It collapsed to one knee, holding its weight up on its long arms.

The stronger golem with the zombie head spun up its right arm and delivered an uppercut to the jaw of the troll. Its adversary fell backwards, shattering into magical energy as it tumbled.

Enemy Duellist Defeated. 324 experience points gained

Jack sighed. That could only mean one thing, the enemy had fled far enough for the magical systems that underpinned existence to determine them as defeated. That meant that catching the mystery duellist was unlikely.

“Thanks, and all that, but I’m going to have to arrest you now,” Mike said, advancing on Jack. “Don’t try all that stupid jumping about now, Jack.”

“Listen, we shouldn’t be fighting on this. I can help you out, do things that you wouldn’t be able to. I’m not bound to any rules.”

“That’s exactly the point, Jack. Being a vigilante is against the law.”

“Oh yeah? So is selling skeeva. I’ve found plenty of places doing that. Why haven’t those been shut down? You know as well as I do that things are stacked against our tier. The money from selling those drugs goes to people at the top. The people at the top of the spend their time hanging with nobles, everyone knows that. I know it’s taken time for people to pass on information to you from the upper tiers, that’s been a problem, right?”

“He’s got a point, Captain,” Mavis said.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll work together on this. Then you’re done, Jack. You take off that mask and never do this again. If you do, then you’ll go straight to the stocks. I’m not kidding about,” Mike said as he sheathed his blade. “Do you have any idea how we’re supposed to catch this guy now? We’ve drawn a blank on what the deal with the runes is.”

Jack removed his mask. The distorting effect was distracting even him. “Yeah, I’ve no idea there either. I thought you would have a better clue considering you must have experts and that kind of thing,” Jack said.

“All we know is they’re all part of something called a runic circle. It’s a kind of enchantment pattern, concentric circles with each rune evenly space. They’re kind of weird because of the tiers, but it looks like they’ve been repeating this pattern here on the eastern side of the city,” Mavis said.

Jack nodded along. That made sense. When viewed from above the murders formed three circular patterns if you discounted the height differences between the tiers. It looked like someone had stamped a bullseye onto the city. A thought occurred to Jack. “Is there anything in the middle? Or are the circles empty?”

“Nah, the runecrafters we’ve spoken to say there should be a master rune in the centre, the one that controls the entire thing. Without that it’s just pretty pictures. Not sure why it matters, it's not like this guy is actually inscribing anything. Just spreading out guts,” Mike said. “It’s just a method to the madness I guess.”

“No, what I’m getting at is what’s in the centre of the rings.” Jack had bought a map of the city and spread it across the wall of his room in the house he shared with eight housemates. He rarely talked to them, the residents of the house less than respectable. His mind flashed back to that map. “The stadium.”

“Which is going to be filled with people tomorrow because of the tournament,” Mike said.

“Which is going to be full of people,” Jack said, repeating Mike’s words. “If you were going to do some big splashy thing to cap off your murder spree, it’s a good place to do it.”

“Right. So, all we need to do is stop some guy, in a crowd of thousands, when we have no idea what he looks like,” Mavis said. “Nice and easy.”

“Yeah well, that’s the job.” Mike took a step closer to Jack. “I have one question, what was the deal with the big floating skull in that fancy pub on the third tier?”

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Jack said. “That wasn’t me.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gareth’s bones ached. He had thought he was ready to leave the tower, that the miraculous healing magic had repaired the damage done to his body. The three day walk back to Wildermount had proven otherwise, his legs in agony from the effort. He suspected part of it was because he hadn’t exerted himself much recently. Gareth had been lying motionless for several weeks on a stone bed, and he thought that anyone would have some aches and pains after that.

The reason for the trip back was one simple thing. The tournament. Every ordeal that the party had gone through over the last month was for one purpose, getting ready for the event. Gareth had everything he needed now, the right number of cards, the right skills, even the exorbitant entrance fee had been paid. All that was left was to take part. Leaving the tower had been timed so that the party would arrive on the eve of the event.

They had spent the night at the Troll and Bridge, the landlord not questioning where they had been. The party had paid for several weeks in advance, and he didn’t particularly care if they used the rooms or not. They were duellists, after all, vanishing for long periods whilst they went on perilous quests was the expected norm. Whilst it was historically the pursuit of nobles, nobody could deny that duellists performed a vital task. They dealt with things too dangerous for normal people, those without access to easy magical abilities. Clearing out monster infestations, exploring newly discovered places, battling ancient horrors, these were things that the army could theoretically do, but in practice, a handful of duellists could solve the problem much faster and easier.

Getting up that morning had been a chore. The pain wasn’t helping, but the truth was Gareth had missed sleeping in something resembling a real bed. It wasn’t quite the memory foam and coiled springs he was used to from Earth, the mattresses at the Troll stuffed with rough straw, but it far better than the sleeping bag he had been using back at the tower. If they were going to be spending more time there, then getting proper beds and furniture would be a good idea. They had a selection of folding chairs, the items liberated from the upscale tavern they had teleported out of.

The smell of warm bacon rolls had finally enticed Gareth out of bed, luring him down the stairs and into the bar. He had scoffed them down hungrily, the grease helping ease the pain. It joined the swirling excitement building up within Gareth’s stomach. It was a familiar thrill. Gareth had always loved tournaments; they were the ultimate expression of competition in a card game. When playing with a friend there were certain things you shouldn’t really do, degenerate combos that locked your opponent out of the game or instant wins they couldn’t react to. In a competitive setting, there were no such considerations. Everyone was there to win, nothing more or less, and there was an understanding that anything was fair game provided it was still within the rules. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t sportsmanship, that was still important, but Gareth enjoyed the purity of knowing where he stood.

With breakfast behind them, the party had wandered through the city towards the stadium at the heart of the event, the grand colosseum that dominated its tier. The streets around them were full, others flooding towards the same building ready for the opening ceremony. In a way, it was a dream for Gareth. It reminded him of a brief period during his childhood where the popular card game of the time had found itself on a sports network, the matches on television for all to see. Sure, it was on the network’s channel dedicated to the more oddball sports—like curling, lumberjacking and a game called slamball—but it was something at least. Now anyone could get all the content they wanted about a game on the internet, a thousand shows springing up around any given game, but to child Gareth being on television had a certain special magic to it.

He wondered what child him would think if they could see all the people pouring into the impressive stadium just to attend an opening ceremony. The people of Wildermount took their card battling incredibly seriously, treating it as their national pastime. It was like attending a football match, though Gareth hadn’t done much of that himself in his life. Sports were never really his thing, and the few sports-based card games he had tried were universally terrible. One of them involved placing stickers onto cards, adding another level of randomisation to booster packs, and as a result was wildly imbalanced.

Gareth and his friends had intended to arrive early to grab themselves decent seats, but the sheer volume of people who had the same idea meant that by the time they got to the stadium they were forced to wander up the long stairs to the upper levels. The seats weren’t comfortable, long stone benches designed to pack in as many people as possible into the space, the low wall in front of them giving little legroom.  The group took their seats, strangers squeezing them on both sides as people tried to grab a seat.

“It’s kind of impressive how many people they fit in here,” Gareth said, leaning on the wall before him and looking down at the rows of people below. In the centre of the stadium was a large square of what looked like compacted dirt, the battle area for the two duellists who would have the honour of competing in these surroundings. The space was much bigger than Gareth expected, easily the size of a football pitch. He assumed it was to allow for bigger monsters to be summoned, and he allowed himself a chuckle as he thought of what the reaction to something the size of Luthor would bring.

The gigantic dragon was in truth a gentle soul and had spent the time when he wasn’t sleeping soundly discussing philosophy and history with Henig. The two ancient beings had quickly developed a bond, reminiscing about a time no one else could remember. There was a kind of strange irony that after all the thousands of years keeping things away from the tower, all Henig was doing was preventing himself from meeting the one other person who could understand what he had been through.

The murmuring of the crowd dropped to silence as a group of figures began to walk out onto the battlefield. They were wearing gleaming full plate armour, and several were carrying massive flowing banners that flapped in the breeze. At the forefront was a man with long blond hair, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, whilst next to him a knight was sitting in a great iron wheelchair, pushed into place by a comrade. The person in the wheelchair was also wearing full armour, someone had taken the time to ensure he was in his full parade dress.

Gareth thought he recognised the two men. One was Lord Tristan Harworthy, the nominal head of the Wildermount army, whilst the other was Lord Archibald Hunter, the knight who had led the defence of the city during the siege. It seemed that the rumour he had been permanently injured was true. Being confined to a wheelchair hadn’t removed him from the military it seemed, but Archibald was a powerful duellist. Even if his mobility was impaired, he could still do more damage from the safety of a rampart than a hundred men. None of the knights were carrying weapons, instead, each had a deck box at their hip. Carry a sword wasn’t necessary when you could shoot lightning from your fingers or summon destructive beasts to do your bidding.

The procession came to a stop, Tristan taking up position behind a small wooden plinth that had been set up in the centre. In his hands, he clutched a brass ring about the size of a dinner plate. He held it up before his face.

“Esteemed friends, welcome to this, the seven hundred and eighteenth Wildermount grand tournament!” Tristan said, his voice amplified by the runic item in his hand. “It is my most excellent pleasure to open these games, considering they are to honour my good friend Lord Hunter, hero of the siege of Wildermount, saviour of its people.”

The crowd roared with appreciation. The glory of the victory had gone to Archibald, rather than Gareth and his friends who had struck down the enemy duellist and killed the monster ravaging the streets. It had annoyed Gareth deeply, but he found he cared less now. There were more important things to be worried about than his personal fame.

“This tournament is a celebration of victory! Our show of appreciation now only of Lord Hunter, but of the many duellists who fought with him to defend our fair city. It’s fair to say none of us expected so many decks to appear as they did, but I am proud of the way our citizens stepped up to defend us. This new wave of duellists have more than earned that title. I’m pleased to say many of them will be competing in our amateur divisions, which means more promising matches than ever!”

There was another cheer of excitement from the crowd. Even Gareth found himself smiling, it was impossible not to get caught up in the thrill of it all. He longed to see what kind of opponent he would have, what different affinities and deck styles he would see. There seemed like an almost unbelievable amount of options and the possibilities raced through his mind.

Winning was still the goal, of course. Whilst Gareth thought he had progressed past his petty desire to prove himself a hero, there was still a spark of it remaining. In truth getting renown for performing well in the tournament would give the party more opportunities in the future, or at least that was the plan. Considering what had happened recently Gareth half expected things to go wildly off the rails at some point.

“Now, considering we have so many up and coming new entrants, then it will be prudent to explain the format of these events. The tournament will be divided into three divisions, professional, semi-professional, and amateur. Your place in a division is decided by past tournament performances, rather than say, your level. Each of these events will be single-elimination, whittling down the entrants until there is only one remaining in each. It will of course take several days to work through all these matches, longer perhaps than it ever has. That only means more to watch, however!”

From the cheering, it was clear that was a popular statement. Gareth had done some rough math based on the number of people entering, and it would take nine rounds, roughly, before a winner was determined in his bracket. The amount of time it would take simply came down to how many matches it was possible to run at once. The amateur division had just over five hundred entrants between the new wave and older duellists who had never competed. There were two hundred and fifty-six matches in the first round alone.

“Matchups will be posted at dawn each day, with the times and locations listed next to them. Now, considering the sheer numbers this time, we have made the decision to place the pairings on the road approaching the stadium, rather than inside itself. Entrants are reminded that there are several homes directly next to the stadium and should carry themselves with care and grace.”

“Yeah, because I bet those houses are owned by certain nobles,” Imelda said, leaning over so Gareth could hear her. “Nice easy access to watching everything, right?”

“Oh yeah, I can imagine that.” As they had approached the street had been lined with wooden boards, and Gareth had wondered what they were for. The houses behind them were noticeably nicer than the rest of the tier, holiday homes for the fabulously wealthy used only when the stadium was.

“Now, whilst we’ve been in here, tournament staff have been putting up the first of the pairings. The first batch of matches will be commencing this morning, in about two hours. I suggest you arrive on time for your matches. We don’t have the luxury of wasting time, so anyone more than five minutes late will forfeit their match. Harsh, perhaps, but that’s how it has to be. Now, we do have one final announcement.”

The crowd murmured with interest. They had heard the opening speech before, and whilst there were a few differences because of the scale, it was all as they had expected. Another announcement could only be something different.

“As a reward, for our heroic new duellists, one match in the amateur league each day will take place here, in the stadium! The eyes of Wildermount will be on you, a perfect chance to make a name for yourselves!”

There was some approval from the crowd, though nothing like there had been for Tristan’s other statements. Watching amateur matches could be fun, but it was nothing like seeing two pros duke it out in the grand stadium.

“Those matches will be performed before a professional match and will of course be free to ticket holders of that duel.”

The cheering picked up substantially, the roar shaking the stadium. If there was one thing that every citizen of Wildermount could agree on, rich top tier noble or bottom-dwelling peasant, is that free was the best kind of price.

“And with that, I declare this tournament begun! May the best person win!”

***

Gareth looked up at the giant sheet of parchment that had been nailed to the board. Finding his name was proving a pain, the matches split alphabetically, rather than by division. He felt sorry for whoever had the job of filling the matches in, the letters were written by hand, ink stains scattered across some from where they had been filled in hastily.

“Looking for something,” said a voice from behind him. Gareth turned to find the face of Jack looking into his eyes. “You need to move one up, this one starts with H. You made it into the tournament then?”

“I did,” Gareth said. His rivalry with Jack had become one of begrudging respect after the battle. “Wasn’t easy though. Nearly killed myself doing it. Literally.”

“That’s the danger of being a duellist,” Jack said. He let his eyes wander, darting around the crowds. “Mike said your lot went missing, something about a giant glowing skull in some poncy tavern?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Gareth said, rubbing his arm nervously. “No idea what that was. Our party has a runic item that teleports us outside of Wildermount. We used it to get out of there.” Gareth was getting good at hiding the truth whilst not technically lying. Exposing the existence of the tower to the world was something the party had agreed wasn’t a good idea. The immediate battle for control of it would be catastrophic.

“You just ran? Doesn’t seem like you. Stubborn is the one word I would use to describe you.”

“Thanks, I think? Well, it caught us all by surprise, and besides, it wasn’t me that used the item, it was Magda. She panicked and it’s got an area of effect around it.” That was an outright lie. “What are you doing chatting with Mike anyway?” Gareth said, deciding that a change of subject was for the best. “Not like you to willingly converse with the guards.”

“Ah well, we’ve got a mutual topic worth covering now, don’t we? That Lich fella has been going around causing trouble for people like me who make a living through…less than legal means. Or well, like I used to anyway. Since I tried to rob you, I’ve gone straight. More money to be made doing quests honestly, and when you think about it, it’s basically the same thing. You’re just swapping from threatening people to threatening monsters. At least monsters don’t complain afterwards.”

Gareth wasn’t so sure of that, not anymore. His recent misadventures had proven that monsters could often be as sentient as any person, their differing natures the true barrier of communication. He thought it was entirely possible that some of the monster groups thought the same thing of the races that called Wildermount their home, and that they were caught in some eternal war from which there was no end. It wasn’t a pleasant thought and was something Gareth had promised to himself to be better about. It was always worth trying to talk first, the tower’s draconic guardian and spider population was proof of that.

“I suppose. You’ve been keeping up with the quests then?” Gareth said. He knew that Jack had taken repeated trips into the undercity whilst Gareth’s group had taken a short break. If he had carried that on whilst Gareth was in his unnatural sleep then his rival could have leapt far ahead of him.

“No, I’ve been busy elsewhere, personal business and all that. Planning on getting back to it after the tournament though.” Jack didn’t think to mention that it was because he had promised Mike to stop his vigilantism. That had been lucrative in both experience points and money. Taking out the family ruin businesses had been small hidden quests, and the experience reward for catching the murderer was substantial. “Can’t let you get too far ahead of me.”

***

Jack sat down at the table; the meeting place decided the night beforehand after long discussion. In truth, he was incredibly tired and was glad for the chance to sit. Running about at night fighting crime had its downsides, especially when Jack was expected to be somewhere early that next morning. He had considered leaving the task of watching the stadium to the guards, but he had realised that as a duellist, he had more access than most. No one was going to question his presence with a deck box at his hip. That was likely part of the murderer’s plan, they were a duellist as well after all.

“Anything?” Mike said. He was sitting at the table opposite Jack, with Mavis to his right. He wasn’t wearing his armour, instead choosing a large heavy hooded cloak under which was a simple shirt. The madman the night before had seen his face and Mike couldn’t risk being recognised. Mavis was similarly dressed, though the bulges in the sides of her hood from her horns made the disguise less effective.

“Nothing, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for honestly. I did bump into Gareth, you know, the one with the goblins. Claims he knows nothing about the giant skull, his lot just used some teleport item to run away,” Jack said. He took the warm mug that Mike had pushed towards him. It was filled with warm brown liquid and smelt faintly of burning.

“That’s a lie,” Mike said, waggling a finger at Jack.

“I don’t know about that, I had a runic item once that opened a portal, a dagger. Lost it though.”

“No not the teleporting thing. You know what, never mind, I don’t think that has anything to do with this, and we can deal with that troublemaker later. Right now, we need to try and focus on finding this guy.”

“Were the guards of this tier any help?” Jack said, taking a sip of his drink. It was unpleasantly bitter, but he did feel more awake for drinking it.

“Hah! No. I tried to speak with this tiers captain personally, and he just told me that his men were on constant vigilance and didn’t need to be on the lookout for anything specifically. So, no help there. I even went to the main office and they said they would take it under advisement, which is higher-ups speak for they won’t do anything,” Mike said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Everything would be so much easier if the different tiers could just, work closer.”

“Well, that’s why you need me, isn’t it? So, there’s just three of us, looking for someone we haven’t seen the face of, in a crowd of however many thousands of people, who could be planning something on any of the days of the tournament. Nice and easy then.”

“We do have one thing,” Mavis said. “We know they use trolls. I reckon that they’re entered in this tournament. They have to be right? If they’re planning on getting around easily. Duellists have access to a bunch of restricted areas, but only if they’re registered.”

“That’s a good point,” Mike said. “Trolls isn’t a rare affinity, but not exactly common either. There’s probably only going to be a few competing across the entire thing. If Mavis is right, and I think she is, we just have to find them all and check them out.”

“Right. Sounds like a plan. What do you want me to do about my duels?” Jack said.

“Still compete. It took a lot of effort to take out one of this person’s monsters, so they must be a decent duellist. You might need the experience points honestly. That and you’ll need to be competing to keep your stadium access. You never know, maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll get drawn against them? The universe does owe us a favour.”

“Oh yeah, because it’s been so forthcoming up until now,” Mavis said. “Look, we need to keep an eye out for anything weird, we’ve been assuming that this person is working alone, but what if they aren’t?”

“Weird how? I’ve not been a duellist long, but honestly, we’re a pretty weird bunch. I know people say being a duellist changes you somehow, but I never put much stock in it. Now I am one, I can kind of see it. It's hard to stay normal when you have this much power, and honestly, you get used to some pretty odd things quickly. Corpses don’t scare me anymore,” Jack said, finishing the last of his drink. He hadn’t enjoyed it, yet somehow desired more.

“So, you’re saying we need to let a troll run loose and see who doesn’t run away?”

“Let’s put that idea at the bottom of the list, shall we?” Mike said. “I’m already probably going to get in trouble for this as is.”

“No, she’s got a point, actually,” Jack said. “Not the troll thing, but the person’s reaction. They ran immediately when you so rudely knocked on the door. They run away. They could have stood and fought, but they didn’t. That tells me that they might be a strong duellist, but either they aren’t confident, or they didn’t want to take any risks. Whatever they want to do here, they considered it more important than risking a proper fight. It means they will be here.”

“Just have to find them,” Mike said. He finished his drink in a single swig. “Well, then we better get moving. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time. We’ll catch this guy. We don’t have any other choice.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gareth’s first match was in a large hall on the outer edge of the second tier, a place normally reserved for community events like weddings or fairs. The interior of the building had been split into four with long lines of chalk, dividing it into distinct areas for multiple matches to run concurrently. The windows had been covered with sheets of wood, thin beams of light escaping through the gaps between them. Gareth assumed it was makeshift protection against an errant lightning bolt.

Two of the matches were already preparing to get underway, the duellists squaring off against one another at opposite ends of their chalk square. A guild clerk was standing just inside the doorway, directing spectators to a set of benches at the back of the room. She looked at Gareth as he approached and pointed to his deck box.

“Entrant or spectator?” the clerk said.

“Entrant. Gareth Jones.”

“Got your guild card on you?”

Gareth reached into his pocket and removed the slip of enchanted paper, passing it over to the clerk. She examined it briefly before setting it down on a small folding table beside her. “Your opponent isn’t here yet.” The clerk glanced up at a clock on the wall. “But they’ve still got ten minutes. You’re on the back right court, I’ll send her over when she arrives. I just have to confirm that you accept all responsibility for any damage done during your match.”

“Of course,” Gareth said. He was familiar with the question; he had been asked it before his first formal duel.

“Good, that’s the only acceptable answer. You can begin when ready!” the clerk said, raising her voice, her words meant for the ears of the other waiting duellists. “You can start when your opponent arrives. No point waiting when we can get underway early. There’s too many duels to waste time.”

“What about the people who paid to see these?”

“What, those eight guys over there?” the clerk said, pointing towards the small group of spectators on the benches. “They’ve been here for half an hour already. If anyone wanted to be here, they already would be. No offence, but this batch is a bunch of no-name duellists, even for the amateur leagues, and there’s frankly far too many options on what to watch right now.”

“No offence taken, it's fair enough. Thanks.” Gareth nodded and then began to walk towards his designated court, taking care to move around the outside of the room. The other duellists were already starting, and a handful of monsters Gareth didn’t recognise had taken form. Whilst formal duels operated under strict rules—rather than the free-flowing nature of actual combat—walking through the middle of two battling creatures didn’t seem safe at all.

A monster formed in the court nearest to Gareth, a hulking brutish thing of leathery scales and fur, long tusks jutting from its oversize bottom jaw, a tree trunk clutched in a hand at the end of a long arm. The appearance of the beast gathered some approving murmurs from the crowd, the spectators judging the monster to be suitably impressive. Gareth wondered what their reaction to seeing a creature like Luthor would be. Stunned silence probably.

Taking up position on the far side of his court, closest to the back wall of the building, Gareth began to wait. His eyes were locked on the clock as he watched the hands tick down towards, and then past, the designated start time of the match. There were only a few minutes before his opponent would forfeit. A win was good, but Gareth hated winning like this. He would have much preferred to face his challenger directly.

“Sorry! Sorry!” A woman rushed through the doors of the hall, her boots squeaking as she came to a sudden stop before the clerk. She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting brown leather trousers, and a white shirt that seemed to billow around her. Holding back a thick bush of auburn hair was a red bandana tied tight to her forehead.

“You’re just under the line,” the clerk said. “Guild card please?”

The woman handed her card over, and the clerk bent down to her folding table. A moment later and familiar sigils began to form under Gareth’s feet, a pentagram turning slowly with indescribable runes around the circle outlining it. It was a sign that the magic that allowed formal duels had been activated, the enchantment part of the guild card. Activating it required someone qualified as a judge, something that prevented duellists from faking formal duels for experience points.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said as she approached the court, the glowing sigils beneath her feet following her. “Took me a while to find this place.”

“Not a problem,” Gareth said. He was just pleased he was going to get a duel. “I’m Gareth.”

“Tallulah,” the woman said with a slight bow. “Are we ready?” Any sense of apology was gone, her words stern and serious. Her hand snapped to her belt and her fingers touched the lid of her deck box. It was made of wrought iron, the dark metal mottled with flecks of rust.

“We need to decide who goes first, right?”

“That we do,” Tallulah said, fishing a copper coin out of her pocket. “Crowns or numbers?”

“Crowns,” Gareth said.

The coin was tossed into the air, spinning quickly and then landing on the wooden floor of the hall with a plink. A profile image of King Eustace looking his most regal caught the light glowing from the runes nearby.

“Crowns it is,” Tallulah said. “That’s good, gets some of your luck out of the way at the start.”

Gareth smiled. It was a familiar sentiment. Card game players could be a superstitious lot, despite the player base being the same kind of people who attended maths clubs at schools or bought science textbooks for fun. The idea that luck was somehow a quantifiable resource was something Gareth had heard before. He had even seen people shuffling decks and drawing hands over and over to get “all of the bad ones” out.

It was obvious nonsense. In Gareth’s experience, the people who did the best were those who rose above the idea of good or bad luck. It was certainly a thing, drawing a useless hand or getting the wrong card you needed did happen, but over time it all averaged out. He supposed it was probably different when your life depending on winning. It was hard to make up the average when you died.

“We’ll see about that.” Gareth pulled his mask from his bag and slipped it over his face, before removing his staff and clutching it to his side. He drew his opening hand and a smile crept across his face. If Tallulah was hoping that his luck had been used up, then she was going to be disappointed. Gareth had drawn a Goblin Soldier, a Goblin Den Mother, two Puny Goblins and perhaps most importantly Zollof, The Goblin King. Having the first action of the duel meant that the legendary was a perfect opening play. The opponent had no traps in play, or monsters on the field, and with his multiple hit points, Zollof could take most of the destructive spells that Gareth had seen and stay standing.

The creature that took shape wasn’t what Gareth had expected. The Zollof card had summoned not one, but three goblins. Two of the creatures were carrying an oversized mahogany chair on their back, a third goblin lounging upon it. The one atop the chair, the one Gareth was assuming was Zollof himself, carried a wooden sceptre and had a crown made of metal scraps bolted together. He was sitting with his legs over the armrest of the chair, his goblinoid face twisted into an expression that told Gareth the monster thought this was all beneath them.

A low rumble told Gareth that the crowd was confused about his choice of creature. From where they were, they could make out the number of mana orbs that had emptied at the monster’s summoning. Four mana had been used, though it would have been five were it not for Gareth’s runic mask. That was a huge amount to spend on what appeared to be a collection of Goblins. If it was for a powerful elemental or an impressive looking golem, they could have understood.

“An interesting start,” Tallulah said. “I can’t say I expected to face a goblin deck. I hoped at least I might have gotten a challenge, but it is the first round I suppose.”

“Trust me on this, don’t underestimate goblins. Every always does, and they learn quickly how wrong they are.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” A wry smile crept across Tallulah’s face. She was enjoying bantering back and forth with Gareth. “Let’s see how you cope with this.”

She selected one of her cards, having drawn six from her deck. It was a subtle sign of how her skills differed from Gareth’s. There was no level restriction on the tournament, and Tallulah could easily have dozens of levels over Gareth.

Light shimmered from the card and formed something unexpected. A sword floated in the air, hovering just above the ground.

“Uh, a relic?” Gareth said. As far as he was aware most relics required a target monster to be attached to before they did anything.

“Give it a moment,” Tallulah said.

Something shimmered into existence, not from light released from a card, but from reality bending near the sword. It looked to Gareth like the effect you saw in old movies whenever the B-movie alien of the week rendered itself invisible. It was like a faint outline of a being had appeared, instead of the creature itself.

“One of my feats creates a monster to which a relic can be targeted, should I not control one. That’s my affinity see, artefacts. Plenty of relics with that type, not so many monsters.”

Gareth was quietly impressed. A big weakness of decks that relied on boosting the strength of monsters with spells or equipment was that the cards were wasted if their host died or you simply never drew one. Creating a body to hold a relic was a useful ability. He looked at the statistics by its feat. It had two hundred and fifty attack, the same in defence and two hit points. He assumed that two hundred of that attack and defence was coming from the sword, and he vaguely recalled owning a relic card that matched that description at some point in the past. Two hit points was interesting, but it was probably necessary to make the deck’s strategy work.

Gareth had a choice to make now. He was confident that Zollof could strike the entity and take a hit point from it, the statistics of both creatures were displayed in the runes at their feet and the goblin king was more than strong enough. Hitting the enemy monster would weaken it, but it didn’t make any real change to the state of the duel. Gareth’s other option was to summon more monsters, to strengthen his forces and provide himself with the ability to take more actions. That would allow him to dictate the flow of the duel. Tallulah would go first on the next turn and denying her the last action on this one was a strong play. Gareth had already experienced the strength of getting back to back actions in previous duels, and he was eager to deny that to his opponent.

He summoned his Goblin Soldier, spending only one mana to do so thanks to Zollof’s effect. That left Gareth with two remaining, but the rest of his hand was effectively free, and only the solider could stand against the sword-wielding phantom until he drew a war banner. A thought occurred to Gareth, one that he stashed at the back of his mind. Grabbing the banner with the hand he had was very much possible thanks to his newest cards.

Tallulah didn’t hesitate on the next card she cast. Light swirled around the phantom, forming a suit of heavy plate that clung to invisible limbs. It could have passed as a human knight, were it not for the open helm revealing nothing within. The monster’s hit points immediately increased by two, no doubt the effect of the armour.

“I get it,” Gareth said. “You deck just stacks more and more equipment onto this monster your feat has created. It’s focused on building one single powerful monster that can hold off your opponent for as long as needed.”

“That obvious, huh? It does the job I find,” Tallulah said.

“I bet it does.” The advantage was obvious, at least in a formal duel. Monsters couldn’t attack a duellist whilst there was an enemy monster was on the field. Having a single all-powerful defender was powerful. There were several weaknesses in the plan though, the most obvious being that there were monsters that could ignore the defender using their effects. Gareth knew that Magda could bestow the gift of flight to a monster, allowing them to skip over defenders provided they also didn’t have flight. The second weakness was one that Gareth knew he would be able to take advantage of. Monsters could attack together, combining their strength into a single strike to overwhelm stronger foes. It meant fewer actions overall but was generally worth it to remove a monster from play.

Gareth made his next move, summoning his den mother to the field. Her effect triggered, his deck unfurling before him. He slid a Goblin Tinker into his hand. His newly acquired card would allow him to search up the war banner on his next action. The den mother might die, even with his feats boosting her defence it wasn’t enough to resist the sword-wielding phantom. It currently stood at one hundred and seventy-six, and some quick maths told Gareth it was adding the ten per cent for his duellist skill after everything else had been applied.

Amber light flashed from his staff, the magic flowing into his deck box and causing another card to slide out. That was the third goblin affinity card he had cast, triggering the effect. He had drawn another of his new cards, the Goblin Ancientrider. He didn’t have the mana to cast it, but it was a useful monster to have should he lose the soldier.

“Interesting relic you have there,” Tallulah said. “Nabbing yourself extra cards for just using the ones you have.”

“Can’t complain.”

“You’re not the only one with a trick up their sleeve though,” she said, as she pulled out a small brass feather. She selected a card from her hand with its metal tip. The light that swirled around the phantom was tinged with golden streaks, the magic forming a great tower shield. Two massive brass wings appeared behind the monsters back, whilst a small set embossed themselves onto the shield.

“What’s it do?” Gareth said. He knew from the pamphlet he had been given after registering for the tournament he was well within his rights to ask.

“The Craftsman's Feather. It alters a relic card so that it grants the flying effect, along with what it might usually do. In this case, the Shield of Vanmeer Steel normally grants two hundred and fifty defence.”

The statistics on the phantom were starting to get out of hand. It had four hundred and fifty defence, quickly getting outside the range of a single goblin being able to strike at it. Now it could fly past them and hit Gareth directly, things weren’t looking good.

Gareth shook his head. He needed to focus on his plan, not worry about what his opponent was doing. Hopefully, his tactics would counter Tallulah’s naturally. He played his next card, the tinkerer he had searched up, adding a war banner to his hand. Like the den mother, the tinkerer was effectively free thanks to the effect of Zollof, even replacing itself in his hand with another card.

“You’re planning something,” Tallulah said.

“That is the idea of this, right?”

The artefact user smiled in response. She was enjoying the duel, even if she didn’t know what Gareth’s plan was. Confidant with the position of her assembled monster against the force that Gareth currently arrayed before her, she decided to press her advantage.

“Let’s get a move on with this, shall we? The quicker it’s over the quicker we can get lunch, right?” She winked; the gesture only partly intended to distract Gareth. Tallulah was certainly open to following up on the offer. “Attack him,” she ordered her phantom.

The monster leapt into the air, bounding over the line of goblins before it. It held its blade out as it descended, Gareth raising his arms instinctively to brace himself as the sword hit his shield, golden light sparking outwards. Its job done the monster leapt backwards, landing before its summoner.

“The loser will have to pay though,” Gareth said, examining the card that had been added from his shield to his hand. He looked over at Tallulah. She was about his age, maybe a little older, and had a pretty face that Gareth certainly wasn’t going to turn down. He glanced at her delicate hands to see she had one mana remaining, the majority of her magical power tied up the relics she had summoned. He still had two remaining, though he was confident he wouldn’t need them.

“Sounds like a bet.”

Gareth had free reign to do what he wanted. He was almost certain that Tallulah had nothing left she could add to her amalgam, and whilst four hundred and forty defence was a lot, he was confident he could overpower it. She had spent over half of her hand on one monster, and whilst Gareth was similarly low on cards, he had added to his strength in a way that was considerably harder to wipe out.

He cast the war banner, his feats making the card free. The makeshift flag appeared amongst his goblins, power flowing into them as streams of red energy. They grew noticeably emboldened, their muscles more defined.

“Your move,” Gareth said, winking back at Tallulah.

“I pass,” she replied, spitting the words out like they tasted bad.

“Well, next up then, I’ll add this Goblin Battlemaster to my side.” Gareth’s shield card took shape. He had to admit it was lucky, despite his earlier thoughts on luck not mattering in the long run. The battlemaster boosted the strength of all of his forces, allowing them to hit even harder.

“I pass,” Tallulah said as the goblin took shape. It was wearing simple scale mail, its helmet lined with an ornate collection of rags and feathers meant to emulate the crests of human knights.

“Well, then I’m going to summon one of these,” Gareth said, adding one of his two puny goblins.

“It must be nice to be using cards for free, even if they are pretty weak.”

“Well, and this is the thing, are they? Look again at the statistics on that Puny Goblin I just summoned. It’s got one hundred attack base, then an extra one hundred for the banner, then fifty for the battlemaster’s leader effect. Add in another fifty for one of my feats and we’re at three hundred.” As Gareth spoke his staff added another card to his hand. He could only smile as he saw what it was. “Add in another ten off another feat, that’s three-ten, and then ten per cent for yet another one, well, three hundred and forty-one attack rating isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I get it. You summon lots of weak monsters, but when you apply an effect that increases the strength of your monsters as a whole…”

“Then the boost I’m getting is multiplied. Exactly.”

“That’s smart. I pass by the way,” Tallulah said, waving a hand dismissively towards Gareth.

Gareth added the second of his Puny Goblins to the field. He was building up a sizeable force, but he wasn’t planning on using all of it. Not yet.

“Got any more tucked away in there?” Tallulah said with a chuckle. She had to admit the collection of odd goblins before her were funny to look at. Their equipment was all makeshift, bits of scrap or repurposed household items. She was certain that the flag on their banner was a pair of large underpants.

“Plenty.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that. I pass.”

Now was Gareth’s time to strike. “Zollof, you’re up first then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The goblin king nodded and then waved his sceptre towards the armoured phantom. To Gareth’s surprise, a bolt of flame leapt from the tip, crashing into the relic clad monster. A section of its armour sheared loose, bouncing off the ground with a clatter and then vanishing in a puff of magic. The attack had drawn a whoop from one of the crowd, as impressed as Gareth at the revelation that Zollof was a mage.

Her eyes dancing across the goblins arrayed before her, Tallulah added up the numbers at their feet. “Right, so you can destroy my monster this turn, can’t you? That one with the sword hits it, then the other goblins team up into twos to get the last two hit points. I pass by the way.”

“Something like that,” Gareth said. He nodded towards his Goblin Soldier. “You heard the lady. Best not disappoint.”

The soldier rushed forward, swinging its blade in an overhead swing. The phantom raised its shield to block, the sound of a blade striking metal filling the hall. It was too much, the shield slamming backwards and crashing into the remnants of its plate, a section pauldron tearing loose and vanishing.

“I pass.”

Gareth pointed at the two Puny Goblins. “Now you two.”

The pair of identical goblins rushed the phantom, one ducking under its shield and kneeling behind it as the other one barged against the near-invisible chest of the monster. It toppled backwards, the remnants of armour clanking as they hit the wooden floor of the hall.

“Right, well, let’s finish this up, shall we? I pass.”

“So, do I,” Gareth said.

“Sorry, what? You pass? Why not finish off my monster?”

“Because,” Gareth said examining the two cards he had just drawn because of the changing of the turn. “Of that.” He gestured towards Tallulah’s right hand, where her mana orbs were floating, her power almost empty. Mana regenerated at the start of each turn, provided it still wasn’t powering a monster or relic. With her monster still barely alive, she was going into the second turn with only two mana available.

“That’s smart. Really, really smart. This is all over, right?”

Gareth shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what you get from your shields, or what you’ve drawn. I think you’re on the back foot, but you’re not out yet. Besides, you don’t want to have to pay for lunch, do you?”

“I don’t know, how keen are you to have a cone of chips? I’m not exactly flush with coin after paying for all the cards I needed for this.”

“Honestly, a cone of chips sounds perfect,” Gareth said.

“Well you’re going to have to earn them,” Tallulah said with a smirk. “If I win, I’m insisting on some top tier restaurant.” She selected one of her newly drawn cards, light swirling around her phantom.

A second towering shield appeared, another copy of the Shield of Vanmeer Steel. Without any hands to hold it, the shield simply began to circle the phantom slowly. It was a smart move, increasing the phantom’s defences higher meant more goblins would have to attack at once, limiting the number of actions Gareth could take. Unfortunately for Tallulah, she wasn’t aware of what card Gareth held in his hand.

He quickly showed her. Familiar blue sparks coalesced before him, launching across the hall and crashing into the phantom. It simply vanished, the weapons and armour it had collected falling to the ground before transforming back into magical energy. Lightning Blast was Gareth’s most used spell, he knew that, but being able to deliver damage on-demand was just too good to ignore.

“You know I’m going to pass. Come on then, let’s see what I get, shall we?” Tallulah beckoned towards Gareth, willing him to order the attack.

“Den mother, go give our friend a little tap.”

The haggard goblin did as Gareth asked, walking the short distance towards Tallulah and tapping her shield gently with the end of her cane, golden sparks briefly filling the air around her. The goblin walked back to her starting position with the cane over her shoulder, adopting a kind of cocky swagger that belied its simulated age.

“That’s weird. It’s almost like that thing has a personality.”

“Is that strange? These goblins do that on occasion. Not all the time, but often enough I think.”

“Guess it’s just a goblin thing?” Tallulah said as she looked at her newest shield card. “It’s not like many people use them so this could be normal for all I know. Anyway, let’s see how you deal with this!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The relic took shape, a hulking suit of glimmering armour forming in the centre of the chalk square. It was a massive suit of armour, a set designed for something not quite human, its arms far too wide, the breastplate far too big. It looked like the armour was designed for one of the trolls being summoned in the nearest duel, not slapped onto the barely visible phantom that was wearing it.

Gareth had been worried about this. Cards obtained through damaged shields cost no mana to cast and could be cast repeatedly. The free suit of armour had given Tallulah another two hit point monster thanks to her feat and Gareth would have to chew through it before he could strike at her shield a second time. The arrival of the monster would delay him at least another turn, allowing Tallulah time to regenerate her mana and recover.

“Not bad,” Gareth said. “That will slow me down at least.” He nodded towards Zollof. “Knock a hit point off that for me.”

The goblin king waved his sceptre, a bolt of fire springing from the end and crashing into the phantom. The spectral thing stumbled backwards, ash covering the front of its breastplate. The newly summoned armour was giving it four hundred additional defence rating but unlike the previous set wasn’t increasing its hit points at all.

Gareth had to wonder why the two suits of armour differed in their effects. He knew defence rating represented now just how physically tough a monster was, but how effective it was at evading attacks. Hit points were supposed to be how much damage it was able to take once an opponent managed to land a blow. He assumed that it had to be something to do with the type of armour, Gareth was no expert and despite living in a world where armour and weapons were normal things, he had learnt nothing about them. He simply hadn’t needed to; his deck was both his weapon and his defender. It was probably worth looking into. Once his shield was broken in a formal duel, Gareth simply lost, but out there in the ruins and rainforests of the world losing his shield meant he was exposed. Having a little extra protection couldn’t hurt.

“Not got another one of those lightning bolts?” Tallulah said. “A shame.”

“Well, it’s this tournament’s forty card limit. Makes it a lot harder to draw what you want.”

“You do have more cards to choose from though. I pass.”

Gareth nodded in appreciation. Tallulah wasn’t wasting time deliberating when it was obvious what her only real option was. Wasting time when there was no decision to make was something that had always annoyed Gareth. “Take it out,” he said, pointing to his two Puny Goblins.

The creatures rushed the phantom, leaping onto its chest and knocking it easily to the ground. They scratched and clawed as its insubstantial form until it lost cohesion, the armour seeming to sink into the ground as it transformed back into magical energy. It would be back next turn; Gareth was sure of it.

“Got anything else?” he said. He knew Tallulah didn’t, but he was pressing her to pass so he could strike again. Asking your opponent questions was a key part of the mind games that took place during high stakes card games. It was to seed doubt and in games where you could counter spells or discard cards from hand to stop effects, it presented the illusion you had something when you perhaps didn’t.

“Nope. I pass.”

Gareth considered his options. He was certain he had won. If he struck with his Goblin Solider, he would strip a second card from her shield, whilst still having his battlemaster left to land the final blow. He knew that she couldn’t cast anything in her hand, or Tallulah would have done it by now, so winning on this turn would come down to what card she gained from her shield. Another relic would let her get a phantasm, delaying Gareth’s victory further. He would still be in a commanding position—Gareth was certain of that. His tactic of summoning as many goblins as possible was paying off, not just in the power he could field, but the sheer amount of actions he had let him dictate the flow of the match.

“Let’s get this other with,” Gareth said. “Solider, take hit her shield.”

Unlike the delicate tap of the den mother, the Goblin Soldier held nothing back. He charged, rusty blade held to his side, his tiny feet slapping on the wooden floor. It slammed into place before Tallulah, coming to a sudden stop and putting all its gathered momentum into the swing of its sword. The metal struck the shield, golden light flaring to life as it bounced off the magical screen, sparks filling the air. The sound of the metal clanging rang through the hall, drawing the attention and half-hearted cheers of the crowd.

“Moment of truth, Tallulah. You get what to need?”

His opponent shook her head. “I got a trap,” she said. “One that is no good in this situation.” Tallulah twirled a finger beneath the card, and it spun around for Gareth to see. He wasn’t aware that was possible, not that it would have mattered at this distance, the text was too small to read. “I pass. Well duelled.”

“You too,” Gareth said. “Finish it,” he said pointing to his battlemaster.

The battlemaster sauntered forward with an impressive swagger. He didn’t draw his weapon, instead just raising a gloved hand above his head. As it reached Tallulah, the goblin swung its hand, slapping the shield as hard as it could.

The shield shattered, energy flying across the hall, bolts of golden light arcing into the ground as its power was discharged. There was a small shockwave, one that caught Gareth off guard and caused him to take a step backwards.

Enemy duellist defeated. 401 experience gained.

“Nicely done,” Tallulah said. “Can’t say I’m happy to get knocked out in the first round, going to lost a fair bit of coin on that.”

“It’s going to cost you even more now you have to buy lunch.”

***

Magda had her arms crossed so hard it looked like they were going to pop off. Her face was bright red and she was tapping her left foot as fast as humanly possible. It wasn’t the reaction that neither she nor Gareth had expected.

“Who is this?” Magda said, glaring at Tallulah. She had decided to get herself some lunch after winning her first round, choosing the nearby chip shop as her food of choice. She hadn’t expected to have run into Gareth, and she certainly didn’t imagine there would be a strange woman with him. Magda wasn’t sure why that infuriated her so much.

“Oh, this is Tallulah, my first-round opponent. We made a bet over who would win, loser buys lunch. Let’s just say I’m not paying for these,” Gareth said, hoisting the paper cone like it was a trophy. “Chips have never tasted so sweet. Well not sweet, that would be weird.”

“I get what you’re going for,” Tallulah said. “Victory makes everything better.”

“Oh, you would know that, would you?” Magda said, snapping at Tallulah. She didn’t understand why she disliked the other woman so much; she didn’t even know her at all. “I won mine as well, Imelda is still duelling, she was in the same hall as me.”

“What about Sarkuran?” Gareth didn’t understand why Magda was displaying such attitude to his newfound friend, proving that across all the endless worlds of reality men could be eternally clueless. “This is the first time we’ve left him alone without any of us to watch him.”

“Why would you need to watch your friend?” Tallulah said, one eye brown raised towards her bandana in puzzlement. “That said, there are some on my crew that I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them. Or well, I do trust them but trust them to try something stupid. I know where I stand with them, is my point.”

“Crew?” Magda said.

“Tallulah is a ship captain when she’s not a duellist. Her ship is parked down in Seahaven.”

“Good timing really, we were due to drop off some of the uh…takings, from our voyage when I heard about the tournament. Fancied making a name for myself, but well that’s not happening now, is it?”

“Takings?” Gareth said. The choice of word seemed odd.

“Yes well, we work for the Wildermount navy, in an…unofficial capacity. If you get what I mean.”

“You’re a pirate?” Magda said. The revelation wasn’t endearing the newcomer to her, just adding to the long list that was being formed based on such important things as the colour of her hair, or the length of her trousers.

“I prefer privateer. Pirates don’t have permission. Still, it’s a good career to have when you find one of these,” Tallulah tapped at the deck box at her hip, “lucky for me I found it last time I stopped in Seahaven. Turns out there’s plenty of experience points to be had out there on the sea.”

“What did you beat?” Gareth said, looking to shift the conversation. He was sensing the odd tension between Magda and Tallulah. “What affinity?”

“Some kind of fish things? Not merfolk, these were even fishier? If that makes sense. Merfolk have like kind of human-style faces. These things had bulging eyes and big fish mouths…”

“Old-kin. They’re like the ancestors of merfolk. You can still find them in certain parts of the world. They’re not like the merfolk, those you can talk to, trade with. Old-kin will eat you first and then pick their teeth with your bones,” Tallulah said. “It’s wise to avoid their waters.”

“Yeah well, they’re a pain to fight against. They have this weird ability to make everything else weaker,” Magda said.

“Ah yeah, that’s the smell. The things stink so bad they turn your stomach just to be near them.”

“Like Gareth in the morning,” Magda said.

“Hey!”

“That’s just a man thing, I think,” Tallulah said with a laugh, the tension between the two women breaking at Gareth’s expense. “Trust me, you would know if someone smelt like a real old-kin. It’s a good thing that summoned monsters don’t have the same kind of…presence, as living ones do.”

“Yeah well, turns out that they can’t fly, and really struggle when up against something you layer strength boosting spells onto,” Magda said with a smirk. She was pleased with her success, it hadn’t escaped her notice that her friends were more confidant with their decks, and out of all of them, she thought she was most likely to lose the first round.

“We should go and find the others,” Gareth said. “See how they’re doing. This has been nice.” He slipped the last chip into his mouth and nodded to Tallulah. “Maybe we can catch up after the tournament is over? You could catch some of my matches even?”

“I’d like that,” Tallulah said.

Magda grabbed Gareth by the arm and began to pull him away. “Right, come on, we’ve got places to be!”

“Ow! You’re hurting me!”

“Keep walking,” Magda said, squeezing tighter.

***

Three pairs of eyes stared at Sarkuran, each filled with varying levels of disappointment. Magda and Imelda both had their arms crossed, whilst Gareth just had his hands in his pockets. The outcome of the first round hadn’t been what anyone in the party had expected.

“How could you lose?” Imelda said, shaking her head. “You were supposed to be up there with Gareth! I thought you would sail through the first round easily.”

“I must admit, it comes as somewhat of a shock to me as well. I have to admit that my opponent wasn’t good, but was perfectly tailored to defeat mine,” Sarkuran said. He shrugged, the heavy material of his cape rustling.

“How can a deck be bad, and perfectly tailored? That doesn’t make sense,” Magda said. Around her people were talking towards the signs where the latest pairings had been posted. The last of the results had come in, and the clerks were rushing to update the posters as quickly as they could.

“It rather does. They had stuffed their deck with as many damage-dealing spells as they could. Normally they would run out of cards long before their adversary ran out of monsters, especially when it comes to the more expensive summons. Most damaging cards are excellent against weaker monsters, but their usefulness trails off quickly.”

“Unless you have to kill monsters to summon others,” Gareth said. He could see where Sarkuran was going.

“Exactly. I would bring out a powerful creature, only for it to immediately get hammered by spells action after action. Eventually, I simply ran out of steam and couldn’t overcome the single powerful monster my opponent played.”

“A control deck then,” Gareth said. It sounded like Sarkuran’s opponent knew exactly what they were doing.

“That term isn’t familiar to me.”

“Basically, it’s a style of deck that looks to simply keep your opponent locked down, under control if you like, until you can play a monster that will just kill them. Removal spells, damaging effects, countering traps, anything and everything to hold on until you reach that point. Generally, they’ll play cards that generate card advantage to ensure that they eventually pull ahead.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun to duel,” Magda said, rolling her eyes. “And I can’t imagine it’s very useful against someone with a deck like yours.”

“It’s a toss-up, honestly. Decks like mine are what are called aggro decks, they rely on hitting as fast and as hard as they can. Sometimes they can beat a control deck before they can stabilise, but it does depend on what exactly they have in their arsenal. Cards that destroy all monsters are amazing in control decks because you have monsters you generally don’t care about in the long run. They’re mostly just there to stall. Taking out two or three opposing monsters for one card, that’s a bargain.”

“So, what beats them?” Imelda said.

“Decks like yours. What’s called midrange. You're slower than an aggro deck, but all of your monsters generate some kind of value. Your bandits come back, the Hidden Blade guarantees a kill, things like that. If your opponent kills one with a spell, well, you’ve still gotten something out of it. You’ll outpace them pretty quickly like that,” Gareth said.

“You should write a book,” Magda said. “Everything you know about card games. I think people might like that.”

“Yeah, if I ever get the time. I’ll just squeeze it in between fighting monsters for my life or exploring dungeons beneath some mountain somewhere,” Gareth said.

“Who puts a dungeon under a mountain?” Imelda muttered.

“Besides, there must be thousands of books on duelling already out there. Acamida has had people using these things for thousands of years at this point.”

“True,” Sarkuran said, raising a finger, “but even in my time they were the preserve of a few individuals. Magda’s…accident has given rise to more new duellists in a few months than there has been in I assume centuries. The way you talk about it, the way you approach things, it's different from how people native to this world see things.”

“I suppose on Earth there are millions of card game players, and we all talk to each other on the internet. That’s that big magic library I mentioned before. We probably get through more duels in a day than Acamida does in a year, honestly. These concepts are pretty universal between most games. Some can be a little different, but not much.” Gareth began to wander towards a nearby sign. It was the one that had hosted the letter G before. He was confused for a moment when it had all the duellists starting with the letter L, before realising that there was of course half as many matches this time around.

“Looks like the pairings are up,” Magda said. She was scouring the sheet, looking for her name near the end. She shot a glance to Sarkuran. “At least we need to find one less match.”

“Here’s yours,” Gareth said, tapping the paper, the still-wet ink staining his finger. Gareth was glad that the cards on Acamida were magical, he had spent far too much on sleeves over his lifetime to keep valuable pieces of cardboard in good shape. “Someone called Magnus Hansdotter? Looks like you’re in the church hall down on the second tier.”

“A church hall. Ironic,” Sarkuran said. “Do try and hold your tongue, Magda.”

“For that, you can come with me,” Magda said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and whatever god it is decides to smite you down.”

“In front of their mother? I shudder to think they would be so uncouth.”

“I’m not their…wait, I guess I am? I guess I’m everyone’s mother when you think about it. Yours, Imelda’s and Gareth—you know what let’s forget that idea!” Magda had turned a bright beetroot purple. Her jealously of Tallulah had already set her on edge and the strange oedipal tone her statement gave that feeling wasn’t welcome.

“Ok…moving on,” Gareth said, taking a few steps to his left through the crowd. “Ok here’s Imelda. You’re also the church hall on two, Valencia Heartstrum it says here. Moving on…” Gareth’s eyes washed over the list of names as he moved down the line. “Ah, here we go. Gareth Jones against…Jack Woodsman. Same church. That makes things nice and easy for us.”

***

Gareth felt relief wash over himself. His opponent had taken up his position at the far side of the chalk square, the church hall divided in the same way as the location for Gareth’s first duel. When he had seen the name Jack, Gareth had feared it was his rival. Whilst fighting the undead user was appealing, Gareth was keen to experience as many different affinities as he could. Besides, taking out the smug duellist in one of the later rounds would feel all the more satisfying.

“You alright?” the Jack standing before Gareth said.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just thinking to myself, that’s all. What affinity do you have, I’m goblins.”

“Magmites,” Jack replied. “Not a bad one to have, honestly. I would rather that than goblins, no offence.”

“What do people keep saying that?” Gareth said. In truth, he hoped his opponents would continue to underestimate his goblins. The element of surprise was a powerful thing, and he was more than happy to take that advantage every time. “We’ll see how I get on.” Gareth had no idea what a magmite was, but he was certain not to write them off sight unseen. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a copper coin. “Crowns or numbers?” he said, remembering what Tallulah had said to him. Sometimes it was the subtle differences between Earth and Acamida that surprise Gareth most. His mind wanted to override it with the heads or tails he was so used to.

“Numbers,” Jack said as the coin fell to the ground. The symbol atop it was the Acamidan icon for the number one. “Looks like I’m up first.”

Gareth nodded and drew his opening hand. It was an ok hand, two Fraternal Goblins, an Open the Warrens, a Puny Goblin, and then his single copy of Chain Lightning. He could put out a lot of individual monsters, which was valuable in its own right, but he needed to get a war banner or battlemaster into play to make the hand sing. The hand was at least mana efficient. Whilst each card cost more than he was used to Gareth was getting more out of them. Open the Warrens especially, as a spell its mana would come back next turn, rather than being locked away whilst the monsters that had been summoned persisted.

His opponent selected a card from his hand, one that Gareth noticed was only four cards total. That meant that his opponent hadn’t put enough skill points into the relevant skill. That was interesting, it meant either had had something better to put it into or was simply a lower level than Gareth. From the six mana he had total Gareth was assuming the latter.

The creature that appeared was a bizarre thing. Its body was a central orb with six insect-like legs attached to it. There was no visible head to the monster, but somehow even more striking was the exact makeup of its body. The beast was made of molten slag, dark black rocks floating upon shifting magma. Gareth could feel the heat washing off it, even if the magic of the deck box was only simulating a portion of it.

A second magical light formed next to the creature, wrapping itself around one of its legs. It solidified, a metal band locking into place on the molten beast with a satisfying clank.

“Magmites provide each other with construct counters, the armour plates,” Jack said, pointing towards his monster. “This Magmite Drone gives one. Every counter is an extra one hundred attack and defence.”

That put the drone to two hundred attack and defence, and only a single hit point. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but Gareth knew that wouldn’t last long. His opponent was bound to get to work stacking more and more counters onto the monster.

The size of the monster was already an issue for Gareth. With all of his feats active his monsters would come out with at most one hundred and seventy-six attack. Respectable considering that he was summoning two at a time, but he was almost certain that this new Jack was going to pick one off with his next action. Not ideal, but Gareth didn’t want to use his Chain Lightning yet. If he was right, then it would prove much more useful later on.

He chose one of his Fraternal Goblins cards, his mask dropping the cost of it to a cheap one mana. That was hard to argue with, the sheer difference in power from when Gareth had first arrived in Acamida was staggering. It was nearly three times the effectiveness as the first Puny Goblin he had summoned in that confusing first few days.

The light took the shape of one goblin, before splitting into two like an amoeba dividing. When the light faded to leave only the creatures, the two goblins were identical, each wearing just a long red tabard that barely covered their modesty.

“You weren’t kidding when you said goblins, were you?”

“Nope,” Gareth said. “You work with what you’ve got. I do alright.”

Jack swirled his hand dramatically and chose another card. A second magmite appeared, this one larger than the first. Its front two legs—or at least the legs that faced Gareth, it was hard to tell when the monster’s body was a simple orb shape—ended in spiked tips. A mote of light sprang from it, wrapping around part of its small companion’s form and settling into place as another piece of armour.

Gareth understood where the duel was going. Each new magmite was going to provide another construct counter, powering up one of its comrades. His opponent seemed intent on powering up his field. Gareth could attack and strike, taking out one of the magmites, or he could build up his forces.

He chose the latter, summoning the second set of Fraternal Goblins. These ones had blue tabards but were otherwise identical to the first. This left Gareth with four mana remaining, and if he was right, he would need all of it soon. His opponent only had two cards left and had spent four of his six mana. Reading your opponent was almost as valuable as having a good deck, and Gareth was certain his adversary would use another card before attacking. It made too much sense, his deck was about building an overwhelming presence quickly, the temptation would be too strong.

“Oh, you really like goblins, huh? That’s a lot of them,” Jack said.

“That’s kind of my thing.”

“I can tell. Let’ see them get past this though!” Jack chose one of his cards, a bolt of light streaking across the sky. It wrapped around the already strengthened magmite, armour appearing all over its body. Its attack and defence raced upwards, each scaling to seven hundred. The spell had added four more construct counters, a massive increase in power for the two mana it cost.

It had, however, used up all of Jack’s mana.

“Right,” Gareth said. “My turn.”

Chapter Thirty

Lightning bounced between the magmites as Gareth unleashed his magic, the metal covering the smaller one singing as the electricity flowed through it.  The monsters shuddered, collapsing to the ground, their molten bodies leaking out through the patches of hardened crust. They vanished, collapsing into orange motes of energy that flowed back into Jack’s deck box and left a slightly singed section of wooden floor beneath them.

The fragments of metal wrapped around the smaller magmite lifted off from its body as it turned back into magic and began to float above Jack’s head, orbiting slowly.

“Nice spell,” he said, crossing his arms and pointing above his head with a finger. “My Reclamation feat lets me hang onto these construct counters, even if my monster gets destroyed. I pass, by the way.”

“What happens with the counters?” Gareth said. He was eager not to make a mistake. Feats were an unknown quantity, the abilities weren’t quite unique to each person, Gareth knew that some seemed generic enough to appear for multiple people, but the affinity specific ones might as well have been. They were a fascinating wrinkle to duels, giving every duellist the ability to break the rules in subtly different ways. It made the entire thing asymmetrical, and whilst Gareth knew that he should hate the unfairness of it, he oddly didn’t. It provided an extra spice to proceedings that he very much enjoyed.

“They get put onto the next magmite I summon.”

“Oh, so your construct counters never go away then?” Gareth said. “That seems extremely good.”

“Good enough to win the first round.”

Gareth found it hard to argue with that. Getting permanent increases in the strength of your monsters could easily snowball over the course of a duel. He needed to end this as quickly as possible.

“Take a card out of his shield,” Gareth said, pointing at one of the Fraternal Goblins in the blue tabards. The creature looked longingly at its brother before forlornly shambling towards Jack, upset at being sent in alone.

With a half-hearted swing, the goblin slapped its open palm against the shield, a shimmer of golden light visible for a moment as the magic repelled it. It walked back towards its brother with more pep in its step, happy to be reunited with its sibling.

Tallulah had been amused by the flashes of emotion that the goblins had shown, their faint personalities the topic of choice until Magda had arrived. It was, apparently, strange that the goblins would show any kind of individuality at all. They were things of pure magic, illusions given form by the cards. They should be nothing more than automatons, and yet it seemed with more frequency they simply weren’t.

Jack began to chuckle, a smug look stretching across his face. It reminded Gareth of the look the other Jack got, his rival and undead affinity user. It was the look of someone who thought they had won, a look that Gareth had seen on hundreds of faces over the years, sometimes well placed, but more often not.

“Sorry about this,” Jack said, his tone indicating that not only was he not sorry at all, but that he was going to enjoy what was about to happen. “Bad luck, really.”

Gareth shook his head. He had told Tallulah at length that luck didn’t matter, not in the long run. He wasn’t going to back down on that now. Keeping an eye on the long view was important.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then,” Gareth said, pointing towards the golden card that had been added to Jack’s hand. Striking his opponent's shield had given him another card, one not beholden to his remaining mana. Gareth couldn’t help but think in terms of card games, the shield cards were an interesting catch-up mechanic, though mechanic wasn’t quite the right word. Magic on Acamida hadn’t been designed in the same way an actual card game was. It had no illusion of trying to remain fair, it was simply a part of how the world worked.

The card shifted and morphed as Jack cast it, the light forming into a massive beast that bumped up against the ceiling of the church hall. It was an enormous magmite, though its body was a cluster of molten orbs rather than a single central point. It seemed to pulsate and stretch as if something within it was threatening to burst out. A bolt of light solidified into a section of armour, the fragments floating above Jack’s head joining them as they covered the strange creature.

“Magmite Queen,” Jack said, pointing towards his newest summon. “Uses up all my mana, or well, would if it hadn’t been in my shield. If it gets five or more construct counters, it gets breakthrough and crush.”

Gareth let out a long sigh. Despite his statements about luck, it was hard not to feel that Jack was right. He had drawn the perfect card for the situation, having both plenty of targets for the monster’s crush ability, but also the construct counters to power it. Eight hundred attack was more than enough to defeat any of Gareth’s monsters, though he made a mental note that the queen only had a single hit point. He assumed that was the weakness of magmites, they were able to strengthen themselves and others to incredible heights but could never actually survive an attack that made it past their defence.

Back in the rainforest, when he had acquired his now sold copy of Looming Titan, Gareth had wondered how crush interacted with breakthrough. He thought that perhaps it would allow the monster to strike a shield multiple times. It looked like he was going to find out the hard way. A quick round of mental arithmetic told Gareth that he didn’t have anywhere near enough power to overcome it, even with all his available goblins working together.

“I pass,” Gareth said.

“Attack,” Jack said, skipping over any pretence.

The Magmite Queen lifted a great armoured leg and swept it across the chalk battlefield, the limb crashing into the left-most goblin and continuing onwards onto the next. The match had more spectators than the first, a natural consequence of the lower number to watch, and the magmites attack had drawn whoops and cheers. Despite being on the receiving end, Gareth understood the appeal.

With the goblins destroyed in an instant, each shattering into magic as the leg hit them, the magmite stomped forward, bringing down its other forelimb towards Gareth. His shield flared to life, arcane energy protecting him from the blow. As the magmite scuttled back towards its summoner, Gareth had never been so pleased to be wrong in his life. It looked like no matter how many individual monsters a creature with crush destroyed, they still only struck once with breakthrough. It had to be down to how it was only a single attack action, despite being several individual attacks.

Gareth was on the ropes, but he wasn’t out. Whilst he only had one mana left, he had the first action next turn, and his opponent was totally out of actions for this turn. Gareth still had a few things he could do to hopefully turn things around.

The first thing he did was summon the card that had come from his shield. It was his Goblin Ancientrider, the monster appearing atop its raptor mount. It drew gasps from the crowd, the onlookers moving forward in their seats. Even his friend’s opponents stopped for a moment to observe the creature. The goblin part was familiar, the tiny green monster’s apparel was different, a mask made of ancient bones and feathers, but beneath like all goblins it was roughly the same. It was the raptor it rested upon. Part of the appeal of watching duels was seeing the bewildering array of monsters on display. Something new was bound to draw attention.

“What is that thing?” Jack said, pointing at the new arrival.

“Goblin Ancientrider. It gets a mounted token when it’s summoned, gives it one hundred extra attack and defence, but more importantly prevents the first time it takes damage. At the cost of the mounted token, of course.”

“No, mounted I know,” Jack said, somewhat annoyed. “Everyone knows that. I meant the thing it’s on.”

“That’s an ancient. Never seen one before?” Gareth said, knowing full well his opponent hadn’t. He was enjoying having gone further from Wildermount than most duellists would ever dare, even if that trip had been accidental.

“Looks weird,” said the man summoning spiders made of molten rock without any sense of irony. “I pass.”

Gareth nodded as it returned to his action. The ancientrider was no match for the queen, though it could absorb at least one hit. The single hit point was the weakness of the massive creature, if he could deal damage directly to it, he could open his opponent up to be attacked. For the first time, Gareth turned to a feat he had never used. Recycle cost him one card of his shield but allowed him to draw two cards. It would put him one strike away from losing, but he didn’t see any other choice. He had long told Imelda that a similar trade was worth it using one of her spells, and he wasn’t going to ignore his own advice.

“I use my Recycle,” he said, as two cards were added to his hand. Jack just nodded, understanding what Gareth meant. As Gareth suspected, Recycle was one of the more common generic feats.  He looked at the two new cards he had drawn. A Goblin Den Mother, and a Goblin War Banner. Not the cards he was after. He needed to find a Lightning Blast, and the two cards he would draw at the start of the next turn were the only other chance he would get.

“I pass,” Jack said, well aware that he was out of options until Gareth was done.

Using his last empty point of mana, Gareth summoned the Goblin Den Mother. He searched through his deck, adding Zollof to his hand. It didn’t matter what card he got, the reason he had summoned the den mother in the first place was to simply remove another card from his deck. Doing so slightly increased his odds of drawing a Lightning Blast, even if only by a tiny amount.

“Unless you can bring out another six or seven of those, I think this match is over,” Jack said. “Pass.”

Gareth just scowled in response. Was it something about the name Jack maybe that made people annoying? “I cast this war banner using a feat,” he said.

“Pass,” Jack said a second time.

“So do I.”

There was only one hope left, or he would be out of the tournament entirely. Going out in the second round wasn’t Gareth’s plan. He had his sights set on winning the entire thing. Perhaps not realistic, but in Gareth’s experience, nobody ever got anywhere in life aiming for the middle of the pack. He closed his eyes as his mana began to regenerate, only opening them once he was certain that the new cards were in his hand.

A Goblin Shield Bearer, and a Lightning Blast.

A wave of relief washed over Gareth. It seemed like luck went both ways. With it being a new turn, destroying the queen would prevent it from being cast again, and with his opponent only having three cards remaining in hand and no monsters in play, Gareth would again have the activation advantage. With six mana to spend, one consumed by the Den Mother, Gareth was in a good position to make the most of his hand. He didn’t waste time, selecting the freshly drawn Lightning Blast.

The Magmite Queen collapsed, molten metal spilling out like blood, several of its orbs shattering as it struck the ground. The bolt of azure electricity had been enough to fell it, bypassing the massive defence value bestowed by the armour growing around it. The fragments released themselves from the corpse as it melted back into energy, floating around Jack’s head as they had done before.

“All that does is delay,” Jack said, pointing at the construct tokens floating above his head. “The next magmite I play is going to be huge.”

“Maybe. I’ll deal with that when it comes. I don’t think you have one.” Gareth had no idea if that was true or not, it probably wasn’t considering the cards his opponent had drawn. He was just trying to get into Jack’s head.

Jack snarled and chose a card. Three of his mana orbs depleted as a glowing ball of magma formed above the court, drawing some excited gasps from the spectators watching. He touched another of his cards, the glowing rectangle winking out from existence. The ball split, forming two equally sized chunks.

The searing rock launched across the court towards Gareth’s two goblins. The ancientriders mount bucked, the dinosaur tossing the goblin atop it aside moments before it was struck with boiling magma. The den mother wasn’t so lucky, incinerated instantly by the spell.

“I’m assuming ditching the other card lets you target more monsters with that?” Gareth said.

“You’re right,” Jack replied. He snarled at the unmounted ancient rider. Despite snapping about knowing what mounted did, he had forgotten all about it.

Gareth knew he could strike now, even the odds between the two of them. He didn’t, with the field clear of magmites now was his best chance to start controlling the flow of the match. He already had a banner up and running to provide the boost his force had been missing, now he just needed more goblins. He chose the spell that had been in his hand since the start of the match, Open the Warrens.

The ground cracked open, dust and dirt flying into the air as two goblins wearing only scraps as loincloths clambered out. The cracks sealed behind them—the effect only illusionary much to Gareth’s relief. Paying for replacing the floor of the hall wasn’t something he had in mind.

Jack glanced at the goblins, then at his hand of cards. He scowled as he stared at his sole remaining option. “I pass.”

Gareth knew then that he had him. Putting the extra goblins into play had increased his possible power dramatically and he was confident that any magmite his opponent could summon, save perhaps another queen, could easily be dealt with by a joint attack. Either Jack knew this and was saving his card for after Gareth swung, or simply couldn’t summon one, he was on the back foot. From the look on his adversary’s face, Gareth was certain it was the latter option.

“Let’s give our friend another card, shall we?” Gareth said, gesturing towards one of the goblins summoned by his spell.

The monster threw itself across the court with wild abandon, the rune below its feet revealing its statistics leaving a streak of light as it moved. The goblin launched itself into the air, landing on Jack’s shield with its ragged nails held out like talons. A burst of light launched it backwards, the goblin rolling across the ground and coming to a stop near where it had started.

“Anything good?” Gareth said, only partly intending to mock his opponent.

Jack let out a long sigh. “No. Nothing. Just another of my construct token making spells. It would be good. If I had any monsters left. You know, I was certain I had this one in the bag when I summoned the queen. It’s been a real back and forth.”

“That it has,” Gareth said. He wasn’t sure if that was true. The duel had only made it to two turns, but he wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. When he thought about it the way actions worked meant that each duellist had done quite a lot over that span of time. “Do you pass?” Jack hadn’t actually said the words.

“I pass.”

“Well played,” Gareth said, nodding towards the other goblin his spell had brought forth. “Let’s get this over with.”

The goblin chose a different tactic than its comrade, crouching down low and taking long strides across the court in a misguided attempt at stealth. With nothing to actually hide behind it simply looked silly, skulking its way towards Jack. It reached into its loincloth and pulled out a shiv made of carved bone. Exactly where it had been keeping it within the small scrap of cloth wasn’t something Gareth wanted to know. It jabbed its tiny blade, the shield shattering from the small impact.

Enemy Duellist Defeated. 408 experience points gained

A weight fell from Gareth’s shoulders. Jack was right, it had been a close-run thing. Gareth shook himself as if physically trying to toss aside his feelings from the match. It was too easy in his experience for people to get into their own heads, to wonder about what could have been. This was especially true when it came to a loss, but it could also happen with wins. All that mattered was that he was through to the next round, everything else was just what happened in the moment. What ifs made for good post-tournament conversation but getting distracted by them before then was a trap.

The small bout of applause that had broken out told him that his performance was appreciated by the audience. Despite its small size, Gareth couldn’t help but bow slightly to the crowd, pleased with the meagre accolade he was being given. The display of false humility over, he began to walk towards the clerk near the door, keeping to the edge of the room so as not to disturb the other duels still in progress.

“So, you won then?” the clerk said, a white-haired man with deep wrinkles set across his face. He hadn’t even looked up at Gareth, instead scribbling something on the sheet of parchment before him with a quill, ink spilling out into scratchy black writing.

“I did,” Gareth said. He didn’t ask how the clerk knew, he had to be watching the duels like the rest of the spectators.

“Good. Sign here.” The clerk slid the parchment across the small folding table to Gareth and handed him the quill. “Just put an X if you don’t know how to write.”

Gareth scrawled his name across the space. To him, it looked like it was written in English, though he knew that Magda’s magic was just displaying it like that to his brain. Understanding all languages was almost as impressive a gift as a deck box. “There we go.”

“Thank you. You’re welcome to stay and watch the rest,” the clerk said, rummaging about in a small box and removing Gareth’s guild card. He handed it back to the duellist. “As long as you don’t give any advice or anything like that. Some of the people duelling are your friends? Right?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, I know not to interfere. Thanks.” Gareth turned around directly into the face of his opponent. “Oh, sorry,” he said as he slipped past.

Gareth made his way to the set of wooden benches acting as makeshift stands. They were only partly full, so he was able to find a seat next to Sarkuran. The former demon king had been watching the duels intently, and his attention was still focused on those going on.

“It was nearly all over for you then,” Sarkuran said, not turning to look at Gareth. “I must admit I was worried about that rather large creature. The one with crush.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m really thankful for taking Recycle, I’ll say that now. How are the girls doing?”

“Imelda has gotten her hideaway up and is looping her Hidden Blade into it. She and her opponent are flying through the turns because her adversary seems to be using a deck focused on summoning very expensive golems of differing kinds. He spends his action and mana summoning it, Imelda has her Hidden Blade emerge from its safe hiding place and strikes it down. The match is effectively over, her opponent only has one shield remaining and she has been able to get one of her bandits to stick in play. It’s simply a case of opening the way and then delivering the final strike.”

“And Magda?”

“Our angelic using friend has had rather a tougher time of it. Her opponent is using what I believe are trolls. They seem to regenerate and have multiple hit points. She’s been able to land two strikes to the shield thanks to her flying granting feat, but her opponent has played a relic that allows a troll to block flying monsters.” Sarkuran shook his head. “I think she will win, but it's tight. Dropping those trolls just absorbs so many of her actions.”

Gareth nodded in agreement, his eyes turning to Magda’s match. He was certain he recognised her opponent from the first round.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty bad. You need to take them out in one go, or you’re just wasting an attack. Her boosts aren’t great in this kind of format either. In a real fight, sure they’re incredibly useful, but here your opponent is going to get a chance to react, right? They’re going to get an action regardless of what you do.”

“Yeah, though if you do get it off you can prevent almost all attacks, provided the monster you boost is big enough. She’s had some success with those blasted things with the horns. The tooting is very annoying,” Sarkuran said.

Gareth hadn’t noticed the noise, too caught up in his own duel. It was amazing how everything else had been blocked out by his focus. When he was duelling, there was nothing else aside from him and his opponent.

“She’ll get it. Magda is pretty competent, even if she doesn’t think so. She’s capable of being a decent duellist. If she listens to us anyway.”

“Hard to argue with that. She has after all made it further in this event than I have,” Sarkuran said. “Strictly speaking that makes her better than me. You’re only as good as your latest victory after all.”

“Is that experience speaking?”

“It certainly is. Of course, when it comes to my previous career then losing has rather different connotations. Even if things don’t end badly for you, to begin with, discontent can build. Perception matters.”

“I can imagine,” Gareth said. “Things are a bit different for us, thankfully.”

“Perhaps, but the point of us entering this event was primarily to build our reputation, was it not? Then we need to win as many of these matches as possible.” Sarkuran allowed himself to lean back as far as he could on the bench. The crowd around him began to clap. “Looks like Imelda managed to land her final blow. That just leaves Magda.”

“She’ll do it, I know she will. This is the last set of matches for today. I was thinking we can go back to the Troll and Bridge when this is done, talk through what happened, see what we can learn?”

Sarkuran allowed himself a chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you never turn off, do you?”

“Not when it comes to things like this, no. I don’t think you do either. That’s not how you are. Everything is calculated with you, Sark, everything has meaning. Even this sudden casual pose and attitude have a reason.”

“How well you know me in so little time. I am simply observing, learning what I can. Each of these duellists is a potential rival. Not just here, in the tournament, but out there in the world. There are only so many quests to go around, and if you’re intent on trying to complete one particular challenge, well then we’ll need to take every advantage we can.”

“So, the other duellists are just competition to be crushed?” Gareth said. He didn’t totally disagree with Sarkuran. The competition for jobs was why Gareth had wanted to build a reputation from the tournament after all.

“Not always. Working together is always better than fighting. That’s the first thing you learn once you have power under your belt. Real power, not the magical kind. The best way to win a battle is to never fight it. If you can get someone to work with you, or even better for you, then you’re furthering your goals and conserving your resources. And we will need them.”

“Oh, no arguments here, I can’t imagine what we want to do will be easy.”

“No,” Sarkuran said. “But then, nothing worthwhile ever is, is it?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jack crept up to the nearest pillar, hugging the wall. He was wearing his skull mask, revealing his identity to the suspect didn’t seem like a good idea, not when they had murdered at least twenty eight people during their rampage. Mavis and Mike were near him, holding positions behind their stone hideaways. They were beneath the stadium, in the network of tunnels that existed to move things around, mainly snack foods to be sold to the crowds above. Jack had heard of similar buildings in other countries across the ocean being used for all kinds of horrible things, but in Wildermount it had only ever been intended for duelling. Occasionally they allowed the grand finale of some local sports league to be held there, but not often.

It had taken all of yesterday, and long into the night, to whittle down the suspects. In between his matches, Jack had helped the two guards case the different troll affinity duellists. One was too tall, one too short, one was a dwarf, whilst another was a human woman with a voice far too high. That left only one possible candidate.

They had stayed outside the inn the man was staying in all night, taking it in turns to sleep in the small wagon that Mike had procured. It had been early morning when the suspect had left, the group following through the darkness as they headed up two tiers towards the stadium. Jack had wanted to grab the guy and stop him from ever getting there, but Mike had been insistent that they had to witness them doing a crime first. There was still a chance their suspect was simply someone coming to steal crisps or help themselves to lukewarm beer.

Morning had come during their foray into the stadium’s tunnels, the door left suspiciously open on the surface above. People were starting to arrive ready for the first match, one of the amateur league events promoted to warm-up act for a professional duel. Jack had gone out in the second round, not even making it past the first day. To be fair, he had been distracted, and all of his recent skill points and funds had gone into things designed to make his vigilante work easier. Jack had promised Mike that he would end his night-time crime-fighting, but he had also been weighing up the usefulness of buying a grappling hook, so his intention to keep that promise was already waning.

Mike held a hand up, signalling for the three of them to come to a stop. Their target had ducked between two dusty barrels into a large storage room, and whispering had immediately broken out. Mike turned to Jack and mouthed silently the words more than one. They had all come to an agreement that there was only the one perpetrator, so the presence of others had come as a surprise. Mike crouched low and moved as quietly as he could towards the barrel ahead of him, Mavis and Jack following behind.

“It is time, brothers and sisters, time to cast off the shackles of oppression. To burn down the world above and rebuild it anew as a fairer society, one watched over by our benefactors, our new gods. No noble will hoard power again, no preening sycophants to the crown thinking they’re better than us because they suckle at the teat of some unworthy monarch,” said a voice, its hushed tone somewhat at odds with the fervour spouting from its lips. The voice was a man’s, the same one that had fled into the night after summoning a troll. “I grow tired of this deception. Things are ready, yes?”

“Yes brother,” replied a woman’s voice. “All is in place.”

“Sounds like we need to move, now,” Mike said keeping his voice as low as possible. Mavis nodded in response whilst Jack just shrugged. “Relying on you skeleton boy, to keep that deck user off our backs. We don’t know how many there are.”

Above the sound of a crowd, cheering could be heard. The duel had begun, the stadium filled to the brim with people. The very stones seemed to shake as the assembled throng stamped their feet and roared at the top of their lungs. A stream of dust fell onto Mike’s shoulder, staining part of his jerkin a light brown.

“Ok, on three,” Mike said.

***

Gareth could finally see the appeal. He had never really understood why people enjoyed live sports. Being crammed into a tiny seat and forced to watch something too small to make out clearly wasn’t something he had ever thought sounded fun. Now though he could feel the energy of the people around him, the excitement spilling out from those above him and washing down the stands towards the duel that had just begun. It was a stroke of luck he was in the stadium at all, his next match wasn’t until the early afternoon, but Magda and Imelda had not only drawn each other but had the privilege of being the lone stadium match for the amateur league. It meant one of them would be out after the duel, but the prestige of duelling before the crowd would hopefully make up for it.

“It looks like Imelda is opening with one of her newer monsters,” Sarkuran said. He was craning his neck upwards, trying to peer over the person sitting before him. “The one that forces your opponent to discard.”

Gareth found himself nodding in agreement with Imelda’s choice, even though she couldn’t see him. He was familiar with the card, having helped his friends tweak their decks before the tournament. The card, Gentleman Highwayman, was a solid pick. It generated card advantage by removing an opponent’s card, so even if it was destroyed quickly it would have at least done some work. It played into Imelda’s burgeoning mid-range style.

“Magda will play something bigger than it. If I’m right,” Gareth said. From where he was sitting, he could see Magda clearly, and from the swirl of light before her, she had summoned a monster. It took shape, an angel clad in heavy armour and wielding a tower shield, a spear held in one hand. It had no head, the armour open on the chest to reveal a single roving eye.

The lower mana cost angels were what Gareth expected. People with flaming swords and white feathered wings or cherubs with tiny bows and arrows. The higher cost things got, the weirder they became, taking on bizarre forms. The giant that had come crashing through Wildermount’s walls had been an angel, a massive brute covered in thousands of hands all over its alabaster body.

“See, I was right,” Gareth said. The Angelic Warden was a strong card. It had a high defence, two hit points, and most importantly the armoured effect. The creature prevented the first instance of damage it would take each turn. This made it extremely effective against direct damage spells like Gareth’s Lightning blast. What it didn’t do is protect against the acidic touch effect, like Imelda’s Hidden Blade had. That simply required attacking a monster to trigger, it didn’t even need to be a successful strike.

“That will delay Imelda somewhat,” Sarkuran said. “Of course, in a long match, our wyrmkin friend has the advantage. Not just from the effects of her monsters, but theoretically she could cast her legendary card enough times to win.”

Gareth knew what Sarkuran meant. Imelda had a legendary spell that allowed her to damage a shield directly, and a feat that let her pluck cards from her discarded ones for a two-mana cost. She could easily just repeat using her Knife Barrage spell if given the chance.

“Who’s your money on?” Gareth said, pulling a silver coin from his pocket. “Ten silver says Magda wins.”

“Really? I’ll take that bet. I wouldn’t want to cross my wyrmkin watcher. You’ve not lived as long as I have. Trust me on this, when a woman can give as withering a look as Imelda, she can topple kingdoms. Leaving the forest with me is probably the most important moment of her life, though I’m sure she wouldn’t quite see it that way. She’ll do great things.”

“That’s a weirdly glowing recommendation coming from you.”

“Well, I do have to keep my eye open for prospective generals, don’t I?” Sarkuran said with a wink. He took a coin from his pocket and placed it on the small wooden rail that ran before the stadium seats.

Gareth placed his coin atop it, the bet made.

“Imelda looks like she’s summoning one of her bandits. A bit boring,” Gareth said. He longed to see the newer cards used. “Effective though.”

“We certainly are settling in for the long haul. At least these people should get their monies worth.”

Perfectly timed with Sarkuran’s words, the coins on the railing started to rattle, clacking against one another as they began to shake. They shuddered towards the edge, Sarkuran reaching out and grabbing them before they fell off.

As he did, the world exploded.

***

Mike couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing as the crowd above him roared with the kind of joy that told him a monster had been summoned. Before him were six robed figures, along with the duellist that had been following. Close up Mike realised that he recognised him. He had been amongst the people holding a meeting on the third tier, in the tavern that had been interrupted by the giant floating skull. Mike hadn’t spoken to the man directly, but he was certain now he was there.

Each robed figure was holding a knife, the blades pressed to their throats. The duellist also had a blade, but he was holding it out towards the three people who had disturbed his secret meeting.

“Do it,” he said, the duellist’s head twisting slightly towards his comrade.

As one, they slit their throats, blood pouring out from the wounds as they slumped towards the ground. On the floor below them, carefully chiselled into the stone, was a rune. The blood flowed into its channels, striking the sigil in lurid crimson.

“You’re all mad!” Mavis said, taking a step forward.

“Ah! I wouldn’t do that! The great work is complete, in just a few moments the doorway will open and our benevolent gods will scourge this world clean of the stink of Wildermount. You, you are the one they call the Lich, correct? You must understand why this must be done. Like me, you fight to free the citizens from the shackles of the noble houses.” The man was waving the knife like a baton as he spoke, his words conducted from his lips.

“Not like this. I’ve hurt people, sometimes for the wrong reasons too, but this…you’ve been killing people, and for what? Some stupid cult crap?” Jack said, his mask causing his voice to boom.

“For freedom! The nobles would never accept change. Look how long they’ve clutched to power, keeping everything for themselves. Money, land, even magic itself.  And you,” the crazed duellist said, turning to look at Mavis, “you’re a wyrmkin. Your people get treated worse than most. You must understand what has to be done.”

“You’re just outright mad,” Mike said. Slowly he was lowering his hand towards his sword. “Killing a bunch of random people isn’t going to change anything.”

“You know that’s not true. You nearly caught me that night because you worked out a pattern, right? You’ve seen the runes, the growing design. It’s a gateway, one that will welcome in a levelling hand.”

“And put you in charge afterwards I bet,” Mike said.

“If the people wish it. You will find Dirk a far fairer leader than the so-called nobles.”

“Dirk?” Mavis said, barely holding back a snort. “Really? The great and powerful ruler Dirk. Not really got the right kind of ring to it.”

“Mavis!” Mike hissed. It wasn’t the time to antagonise the man before them. He clearly had followers, ones more than willing to give their lives for his cause. The assumption Dirk had been working alone was woefully wrong.

Bottles began to clink, and barrels began to slosh as the ground started to shake. The sensation was building, the rumble quickly escalating into a full-blown earthquake.

“It is too late to stop it!” Dirk said, holding up his dagger triumphantly. “They come!”

***

High above Wildermount, a bird flapped its wings. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence, after all, Wildermount climbed up the sides of a mountain, its keep piercing the heavens. The upper tiers were home to dozens of different kinds of birds, and it was even fashionable to have elaborate birdhouses and feeders in the gardens of nobles designed to attract the more impressive species.

What was unusual was the magical light spreading out across the city, briefly drawing the bird’s attention. Beams of red light had shot into the air, burning through the roofs of houses, or cutting up through cobblestone streets from the tunnels below. From its vantage point, the bird could see that the lights formed a ring of runes, an arcane circle centred on the eastern side of the city.

Something within its simple mind, some ancient animal instinct, told it that it should flee. Its flock were squawking, signalling for the formation to move away from the obvious threat whilst all across the mountainside other birds were taking flight. Even high above in the sky, the bird could sense the ground below was shaking, the steeples of churches and the towers of stately homes swaying side to side.

The ground erupted open to reveal not dirt and rock below, but an endless dark void, a storm of perfect black that nevertheless seemed to swirl about. The pattern repeated around across the ring of runes, the cracks, in reality, spreading out from each of the individual sigils like a web spun outwards from a central point. As the cracks grew houses began to fall in and walls began to topple, anything touched by the creeping darkness consigned to oblivion beyond.

From within the cracks, something stirred, a bewildering array of hands, tentacles, claws, and dozens of other indescribable limbs bursting forth to pull their owners through into Acamida’s reality. Swarms of flapping shadow nightmares fluttered past the hulking giants sliding through the tears in space and time, whilst hordes of amorphous blobs and starchildren flooded out onto the streets.

A tentacle came crashing down through the stadium, a monstrosity crushing it with almost casual disregard as it birthed itself from the darkness. It was a hulking thing of stringy wet flesh, thousands of rapidly shifting eyes darting about on its surface. The tip of each of its hundreds of tentacles were snapping maws, lamprey like mouths with thousands of man-sized teeth. It turned one of them towards the cowering throng amongst the rubble of the stadium and began to feast.

***

Gareth spluttered, dust filling his lungs. Around him, people were screaming, trying to flee from the monstrous thing that had come crashing through the walls of the stadium. Hundreds had to have been killed instantly, and Gareth immediately thought they had been the lucky ones. A tentacle belonging to the nearby monster was snapping at people as they panicked, swallowing clumps of them in greedy gulps. The creature wasn’t careful with its bites, and it certainly wasn’t taking most people whole.

“Sark! Sark!” Gareth looked around frantically. Sarkuran had been right beside him, but now the seat was empty, a fragment of rubble sitting there the demon king had been.

“I’m ok!” came the reply. A hand appeared over the railing before Gareth’s seat, Sarkuran standing. He had been knocked clean over, landing in the lap of the tall man who had been partly blocking his view. His saviour had fled, dropping Sarkuran to the ground. “This is bad.”

“That’s an understatement, really.”

“No, I mean actively terrible. That thing is a nightmare and judging from those frankly enormous shapes rising in the sky around us, one of several of them. Someone had had the outright insane idea of not just piercing the veil but tearing it asunder. Madness!”

“What do we do?” Gareth said. He couldn’t help but think back to the people they had found trying to summon nightmares in the farmhouse outside the city. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. Were those cultists part of a wider plot, or were they just a symptom of a desire that had festered elsewhere within the city?

“We do nothing. You’ve told me before that I’m a pragmatist. I prefer a realist, but either way, listen to me now. We are no match for these things, not as we are now. They are far beyond us in strength, far beyond anyone I could imagine. Wildermount is full of powerful duellists, I suggest we leave and let them attempt to deal with it.”

“Just run away? We can’t do that,” Gareth said. Deep down he knew that Sarkuran had a point. Gareth had helped defend the city when it was under siege, something that seemed impossible at the time, but what was happening around him was on an entire other level. The city was doomed, even if the nightmares could be cleared out, the damage was already done. Most of the area around the stadium would be ruins in moments, and it was only a matter of time before one of the giants punched a shortcut from the undercity to the streets, unleashing more monsters into the fray. Part of Gareth still wanted to be a hero, deep down and just leaving felt wrong.

“We can, and we should. I know you Gareth, you want to help people. We can still do that. Think about it,” Sarkuran said, putting a finger to his horn. “If we use the rod and take as many people as we can to safety, we can protect a lot more lives than if we just get killed in the streets.”

Gareth had to admit there was a certain logic to what Sarkuran was saying. He wouldn’t be able to fit many people into the radius of the ring, not in the thirty seconds it lasted, but it was hard to argue those people wouldn’t be safe. Whilst the gigantic nightmares were terrifying things to behold, he was certain that Luthor could give them a run for their money.

“We need to find the others first,” Gareth said, glancing down at the centre of the stadium. The tentacle had come crashing through, exposing a large basement directly beneath. There was no sign of Imelda or Magda, but Gareth knew they were both tough to put down. It helped that they had been mid-duel, so their shields were already active.

“Agreed. We should climb down, provided we can find a way through the crowds.” The people around Sarkuran had already tried to flee, only to find the exits to the stadium blocked by the tentacle coiling around the inside in a worrying display of intelligence. It was hard to imagine the monsters marauding through the city had once been the souls of the living. Perhaps that was why the tentacle was taking bites from the crowd, a futile attempt to regain some of the divine spark it had lost long ago.

Gareth summoned a hand of cards. Whilst he wanted to save as many as possible, he also knew humans could turn on each other in moments of crisis, their desire to survive overriding any sense of community. “Let’s get moving. The quicker we’re gone, the better.”

***

Tristan could barely believe what he was seeing. His office window had an undisturbed view of the city, the vista letting him look down on every tier. The view had always been a statement, a message to the other lords that he was always watching and judging. It would also have been an effective reminder of his status to any commoner if they had ever been allowed in his office.

Now, through that same window, he was watching the destruction of everything he had ever worked for unfurling. Monstrous nightmares had appeared directly in the streets, twelve towering behemoths along with what had to be thousands of smaller creatures. He would stride out onto those same cobbles and fight, of course, he would, his ultimate duty was to Wildermount after all, but the damage would be irreparable. His kingdom had stood resolute against the Republic only months ago, and now it would be torn apart with little warning or fanfare.

Tristan came storming through the doors of his office, his armour gleaming in the oil lamps that lined the corridor beyond. He turned towards the nearest guard, the man still standing sentinel despite no doubt hearing the commotion outside. Tristan knew his men were loyal, he had handpicked them himself.

“Take as many men as you can gather and ensure the king gets to safety,” Tristan said. “Take the tunnel hidden behind the leftmost tapestry on the eastern side of the throne room. That will lead you outside the walls. It is imperative the king survives. Wildermount we can rebuild, with time, the kingdom we cannot. Take him to my summer villa, near Hosterfield, is that clear?”

“Yes, my lord,” the guard said. “What about you, my lord?”

Strictly speaking, the guard was out of place to ask, but Tristan let it go. He was concerned for the safety of his liege, as all good commoners should be. He needn’t, Tristan was quite possibly the most powerful duellist in the kingdom, if anyone could fight back the titans attacking the city, it was him and his knights.

“I will gather my knights and purge the streets of these fiends.” Tristan reached down and opened his deck box, two dozen cards floating over his hand in a staggering array of options.  His mana orbs on his right hand circled around the limb several times, the line travelling down his arm.

“Good luck, my lord.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Tristan said.

***

Magda pulled herself to her feet, stopping to brush the dust off her grey dress. The ground beneath her feet had collapsed as the nightmare’s tentacle had crashed into the edge of the court, causing it to collapse into the storage area below. Pooling around her feet was a small lake of beer and wine, several barrels smashed by the collapsing roof.

Looking around, Magda searched for Imelda. Her friend and temporary opponent had fallen as she had—Magda was certain of it. She saw a mop of hair sticking out from some rubble, the dark strands pierced by a horn.

“Melda!” Magda said, crouching by the rocks and pushing them away with her hands. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just a bit bruised,” Mavis said. “Don’t think I’m who you’re looking for though.”

“I’m here Mags,” Imelda said, ducking under a fallen stone column. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, help me with this woman.” She pointed to the wyrmkin half-buried under rock.

“Is that people?” Mike said, emerging from between two half shattered barrels. “Oh, right. Of course. You’re those two lasses who hand about with goblin glinteyes, aren’t you?”

“I think so?” Magda said, confused by the question. She pointed at the guard captain. “Come help us with this.”

“Ok, but keep an eye out, the psychopath who did all of this is probably still around here somewhere. Nasty guy with a troll deck. Fancies himself some kind of social revolutionary.”

“Of course, he does. You know, we ran into a group trying to summon nightmares outside the city, course they were already dead from the attempt,” Imelda said. “I know Gareth reported it to the city guard.”

“And that station kept it to themselves,” Mike said, rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

“You definitely need someone like me then,” Jack said, skulking out of the shadows. “I went to look for Dirk. I can’t find him. He could be under the rubble, but I don’t think so. He’s probably done a runner. No doubt to plan his revolution.”

“Dirk?” Imelda said. “The guy who did this is called Dirk? That’s the worst name for an evil cult leader I could imagine. Wait, shortish guy, brown hair, loves to spout off about rising up against society?”

“That’s the guy,” Jack said.

“Great. What are we going to do? About those things. They’re everywhere, and they certainly aren’t friendly.” Imelda chose to leave out that she knew what nightmares truly were. The others didn’t need to be burdened by that knowledge.

“Wait,” Magda said. “Aren’t you that Lich guy?”

“That’s Jack,” Mike said, pointing the thumb over his shoulder. “You know, the guy who tried to rob you once.”

“You’re not supposed to go around giving away my identity,” Jack said, the mask still distorting his voice. “That’s not how this all works.”

Mike shrugged. It didn’t seem important anymore, not with the size of the tentacle that had come crashing down through the roof. It was obvious that Dirk had summoned something, and from what the others had implied things were bad up above.

“Hey, you alright down there!” The voice was Gareth’s coming up from the opening above, Sarkuran was next to him. The sound of screams echoed past them. “I don’t want to rush you, but there’s a giant tentacle up here eating people, not really a stand around and wait kind of environment.”

A few agonising minutes later Mavis had been freed from the rubble and pulled up to what remained of the court hanks to Sarkuran and Gareth. The others soon followed, the devastation Wildermount was suffering from apparent in its fullest.

“The city is doomed, isn’t it?” Mavis said. “Fantastic. How am I supposed to progress in the guard now? Don’t need to guard somewhere that’s in ruins.”

“That’s what you’re worried about,” Jack said. “Your job?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Gather everyone you can,” Gareth said. “We can get out of here, take as many as possible somewhere safe.” The tentacle was distracted for the moment, trying to squeeze through the main doors to snap at people on the street. Reaching into his bag Gareth produced the Rod of Returning. “This will teleport us away.”

“You weren’t lying about that,” Mike said. “I kind of figured you were.”

“We kind of were, it takes us far, far away from the city.”

“Far away sounds perfect right now,” Mavis said.

“Not for me,” Mike said. “I have a family, a wife. I’m not leaving them. Sure, it might mean I die here, but that’s how it has to be.”

Gareth just nodded in response. He had never been close to his family, but he understood the desire to stay and protect them. It might ultimately be futile, but he respected Mike for needing to try.

“I’ll still help you gather folks,” Mike said.

“Ok, well you and the uh, Lich, take the east side, we’ll take the west. Fill what’s left of the court,” Gareth said, gripping the rod tightly. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

***

The sun danced over the tower as it rose, the light gliding across the top of the canopy and bouncing off Luthor’s scales as he slept. The quiet serenity of the rainforest was a stark contrast to the chaos of Wildermount. Gareth hadn’t slept since they had teleported back, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could have done something more.

With Mike, Mavis and Jack helping, they had been able to bring about a hundred people to the tower, using the rod at its maximum capacity. That seemed like a large number, but the faces of those left outside the magical circle were etched in Gareth’s mind forever as they realised they were being left behind. There simply wasn’t enough space. Venturing back to Wildermount seemed dangerous for the time being, so for now it would have to do.

The rescued people were still in shock. Truth be told so was Gareth, but they had to cope with not just their home being trampled by giant nightmares, but then being whisked to the other side of the world where dragons and crystal spiders awaited them. It hadn’t helped that Henig had insisted on introducing himself immediately to the newcomers. Jack had attempted to calm people down as his Lich alter ego, trading in his folk fame. The arrival of an actual real lich floating downwards behind him had rapidly undone any calming effect that might have had.

Tax was initially unhappy about a large group of humans appearing in her new home, but upon learning why was immediately sympathetic. The spiders had stuck to their cavern home for so long out of fear of being wiped out. Despite her distrust of humans, hearing about the destruction of the city made her realise humans not only held that same fear but were currently living through it.

Whilst the tower had plenty of space within it, there were very few actual rooms, save for one floor. Rather than have Henig change its layout again and risk attracting more attention, the spiders had been tasked with putting up as many crystal structures as they could, a role they had turned to with gusto. It had only taken a few hours for them to have spun enough domes to house everyone. There wasn’t a lot of space within the shimmering pink bubbles, but it was better than nothing. Some of the rescued group—mostly humans, though there was a few wyrmkin, a pair of mustelings and a trio of dwarves—had refused to use the spider buildings and insisted on sleeping in the tower itself, turning the bottom floor into one large cramped bedroom. It was rather less of them than expected, so the current situation was considered a win.

“You look worried,” Magda said as she stepped off the platform. She had two cups in her hands and passed one over to Gareth. It was filled with water.

“Just pondering what we do next.” Gareth took the cup then turned to gaze out of the window. “Things aren’t going exactly as I hoped, honestly. There’s supposed to be a pattern to this kind of stuff, you know, being stuck in a fantasy realm. You get stronger, you save the day and then you either get to go home or live out your days as king or something. Someone releasing the eldritch fragments of forgotten souls to crush society beneath their heel, or well, tentacles, isn’t on the list usually.”

“Well, we did get stronger at least.”

Gareth could only nod in agreement. Magda had a point, bringing people to the tower had triggered a hidden quest. Gareth found it a little annoying that not everything was revealed to him, how sometimes his goal was clear, and other times he only earnt experience by stumbling into it. The notification had appeared moments after teleporting in.

Quest complete: Escape the nightmares and repopulate the tower.

Reward: 2000 experience points.

Level up- Level 25 gained.

Current Exp 1529/1975

Six skill points gained.

One feat unlocked

The notifications were still there when Gareth opened his menu. He hadn’t found time to spend the points or to even look over what feats he had unlocked.

“Do you mind a moment? Might as well spend the points I have now,” he said. Magda didn’t hold the same taboo of opening a menu during a conversation rude, she wasn’t from Acamida after all, but Gareth still felt it polite to ask anyway.

“Go ahead,” she said, taking a sip from her cup.

Spending the points was easy. Gareth put all of them into Goblinkin, unlocking not only its next boost but the one beyond that as well. His matches in the tournament had taught him that the boosting effects were simply overwhelmingly strong when applied to multiple monsters. His goal was to shoot for twenty-five ranks in the skill. Then between his feats and his skills, his goblins would get getting an even one hundred extra attack and defence before any relics or effects got involved.

His skill points spent, Gareth moved on to his feats.

Defender of the people: Gain an additional ten per cent experience points from quests completed in Wildermount.

Unsummon: Once per turn you may discard one of your summoned creatures from the battlefield.

Glimpse the Future: Discard one card, then look at the top three cards of your deck and return them in any order.

Spell Master: When you cast a spell, discard any two cards to resolve that spells effect twice.

Defender of the people was right out; Gareth couldn’t imagine they would be doing many quests around Wildermount any time soon. Unsummon and Glimpse the Future were tempting, but there was no way he could turn down Spell Master. Two cards was a steep price to pay but doubling up on a spell’s effect struck Gareth as incredibly powerful, especially when it was something like Chain Lightning or Open the Warrens. He chose the feat, then closed his menu.

“We’re going to have to work out a way to get supplies,” Gareth said, sipping his drink. “More water for a start. And food. We might have to start hunting in the rainforest.”

“There’s no might about it. Luthor and the spiders can live on mana, but people can’t. We’ve already used up all of our rations.”

“Fantastic. I remember distinctly saying I didn’t want to build a town, or a kingdom or whatever. I bet Sarkuran is loving this.”

Magda smiled, the first such expression to cross the lips of anyone who had teleported from Wildermount. “Yeah, I bet he is. He’s already started organising everyone, finding out what they did back in Wildermount and assigning jobs. Him and that Mavis, I think she’s already decided she’s head of the tower guards or something like that.”

“She ask Luthor about that?”

“She’ll probably end up deputising him or something, she seems forward that one,” Magda said. “We’ll be ok. We have to be. This just…changes our plans a bit.”

“Understatement of the century there.” Gareth leant against the glass. It had lasted thousands of years, standing sentinel against the rainforest. If it could last, so could he. “You hear Henig say he thinks that he can tattoo people up with that Eternal rune so they can understand Luthor and the Spiders. Mavis might actually end up speaking with that dragon.”

“Provided she’s up for being tattooed by a skeleton.”

“Weirder things have happened today. I hope Mike is ok.”

Magda didn’t answer that question. She didn’t want to lie to Gareth. It hadn’t looked good for those they couldn’t save.

“I know you’re keeping quiet,” Gareth said. “It’s not just Mike though, it's everyone we’ve met. Even Tallulah or those stuck up nobles. No one deserves that fate. When you think about it, it’s just making more nightmares, in the long run.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“That just means one thing then, doesn’t it? Now we really need to take down those gods. Not just for you, or me, but for every single person they’ve ever turned into one of those things.”

Goblin Summoner – The Rules

It was important to me, when writing Goblin Summoner, that the way that everything played out was consistent with how it was presented in the story. To do this I have a set of rules in my head that every fight followed so that everything tracked correctly, especially when it came to formal duelling. Now if you had enough time, I’m sure you could piece together the core rules that underpin the systems at the heart of the book if you wanted to. Thankfully, you don’t have to.

Presented here are the basic rules of Goblin Summoner, in particular its formal duelling rules. (Sadly, our reality lacks the ability to summon actual monsters to try the real-time version.) You can use these rules to play actual duels between yourself and a friend if you want to.

A few caveats first. I have no idea if this game is balanced. I designed this system to provide an interesting narrative first and foremost, so as an actual game to play it might have some wonky interactions or unintended strategies. Also, printing the list of every monsters, spell, trap, and relic featured in the book would take up frankly far too much space. You can find the relevant information in the novel itself, or if you sign up for my mailing list, you’ll get a copy of the Goblin Summoner Bestiary for free. This includes the information for everything mentioned in the book, even those where you don’t see their stats directly. If you want to know what the rules are for the Nephilim, then this is where you’ll find them.

You can join the mailing list and get your free copy of the bestiary here.

Ok, so with enough preamble, I present to you the rules.

Duelling.

A duel in Goblin Summoner is a form of ritual combat between two duellists. To win a duel, you must shatter all three of your opponent’s shield cards. To do this. players will summon deadly monsters and powerful relics, or cast dazzling spells. To play each player will need a deck of cards and something they can use as tokens. Dice, coins, something like that.

The duel is split into turns, at the start of which each player will gain mana, the resource used to cast their spells, they will then alternate between each other as they take actions that affect the game state.

Anatomy of a card.

Every card in goblin summoner has a few key things about it that determine how it functions in the game. Some are universal to every card type, some aren’t.

There are four different types of card in the game.

- Monsters

- Relics

- Spells

- Traps

Every card falls into one of these four categories. Monsters and relics remain in play when you use them, repeatedly impacting the game state. Spells and traps resolve their effect once and are then discarded. Every card has a mana cost, how much magical energy is required to use it. This is true across all card types.

Monsters and Relics will have a type associated with them. This type affects their mana cost when used in a deck with a matching affinity (see the deckbuilding rules for more.) When a deck shares a matching affinity to a type, reduce the printed mana cost by one. For example, a three-mana Goblin Soldier costs two mana when used in a goblin affinity deck. This change counts for deck building, as well as for any card that mentions a specific mana cost in its effect.

All spells, traps, and relics, along with some monsters, will have an effect. This effect impacts the game state in some way, made clear in the effect text itself. When effect text and the rules of the game conflict, the effect text always wins. Once a spell or trap has resolved its effect, it’s discarded.

Monsters will have three further details listed on them. Attack rating, defence rating, and hit points. Attack and defence ratings determine how good a monster is at dealing or avoiding damage, whilst its hit points are how much damage it can take before it is destroyed. (Destroyed cards are sent from play to the discard pile.)  These numbers represent not just how strong a monster is, but how skilled as well. A giant might have very low defence because it’s very easy to hit, but several hit points to compensate.

Playing the game

A game of Goblin Summoner is divided into turns. During each turn, players will alternate taking actions until both players choose to pass in succession, at which point the turn ends and a new one begins. During the first turn of Goblin summoner, do the following things in order.

- Randomly determine who has priority for that turn. That player will get to act first. At the end of each turn priority switches to the other player.

- Shuffle your deck, then present it to your opponent, who may shuffle or cut it as they see fit then return it to you.

- Draw three cards from the top and place them face down before you, without looking at them. These are your shield cards.

- Draw four cards from your deck, this is your hand, keep the contents to yourself.

- Give each player tokens matching the amount of mana available to them. It’s recommended you play with five mana each, though you can adjust this if you want to try duelling as a higher level spellcaster. Coins make excellent tokens for this.

The game is now set up. Beginning with the player with priority, players now alternate taking actions (listed in a moment) until both choose to pass. The turn then ends, and a new turn begins. On subsequent turns do the following things in order.

- Draw two cards. If you cannot draw any cards shuffle the contents of your discard pile to create a new deck and then resume drawing cards.

- Resolve any “start of turn effects” starting with the player with priority and alternating.

- Restore mana up to your maximum, minus the cost of any monsters, relics, or traps in play. (For example, in a five mana game you have one relic with one mana cost, and one monster with two mana cost, then you would restore only two mana,)

- Resume taking actions.

For reference, the end of turn sequence once both players pass is

- Resolve any “end of turn” effects, starting with the player with priority and alternating.

- Pass priority to the player without it.

Taking actions.

Players can take the following actions during a turn.

- Play a card from hand – Spend the appropriate amount of mana to play a card from hand. Relics and monsters get placed before you and any relevant effects trigger, the cards remaining in play until destroyed. Spells resolve their effect immediately and are then placed in the discard pile. Traps are placed face down. Their effects will trigger when instructed to do so on the card itself. The mana cost of a trap is public knowledge and it’s recommended you mark it a counter of some kind such as a dice. When a trap’s effect triggers, it is then placed in the discard pile.

- Play a shield card – Use one of your cards removed from your shield. (See shield rules.) Using cards from your shield costs no mana and when a shield card would go to the discard pile, it instead goes to your hand. You can only use each shield card once per turn. (For example, you cast a Lightning Blast from your shield cards. As a spell, it would go to the discard pile but is instead returned to your shield cards. You can’t use that Lightning Blast again until the next turn.

- Declare an attack – Choose any number of your monsters and attack with them. Monsters can attack only once per turn and it’s recommended you mark which ones have attacked by turning them sideways. Monsters can attack other monsters or the enemy duellist. If enemy monsters are present, they must attack those monsters unless they have a rule that allows them to ignore them (such as flying). Add up the total attack rating of all attacking monsters. If it is equal or greater than the defence rating of a defending monster, it loses one hit point (regardless of how many individual monsters took part in an attack). If it has no hit points remaining, it is destroyed. When attacking a duellist, they will take one shield card and place it in their hand, attack rating is irrelevant in that situation.

- Use an effect – Some monsters have effects that don’t trigger when they are summoned. Using these effects is an action. Resolve the effect as written. An effect can only be used once per turn.

- Pass – Passing does nothing, effectively skipping your activation. Passing does not prevent you from performing an action once your opponent has completed theirs.

- Use a feat or runic item – Feats are powerful effects that duellists learn as they level up, and runic items are enchanted pieces of equipment that imbue powerful abilities similar to feats to their bearer. Activating one of these effects is an action. Rules for runic items and feats aren’t included in this ruleset, but if players want to take them from the novel they can of course do so.

The Shield

The shield is a barrier of powerful arcane magic that protects duellists from harm. The shield can take three hits before breaking, rendering the duellist vulnerable to attack. The shield works by detecting hostile intent and a duellist can be injured by falling prey to a trap or tripping off a wall for example.

In a formal duel, duellists fight until all of their opponent’s shields are gone, the fatal blow not necessary. Duellists that take hits against their shield need not despair, as the magical energy released from protecting them imbues the cards forming the shield with powerful mana.

At the start of the game, three shield cards are placed face down in front of each player. Every time a player is attacked directly by one or more monsters, they take one card from their shield, look at it, then set it aside. In the novel, these cards glow gold and float next to a duellists hand but for the real world game it’s easier to set them away from your hand of cards to prevent confusion. You can only lose one card from your shield per attack action unless an effect says otherwise.

Empowered by the magic of your shield, these cards can be cast using the cast shield card action. Treat the printed mana cost of these cards as zero. Canny duellists will realise (as Gareth does in the story) that taking a hit on their shield early can give them a powerful advantage at the risk of being closer to losing at any moment.

Shield cards are not in your hand for the purposes of any effects. If an effect would discard a card from your shield, then it is not set aside. It goes to the discard pile and does not become a shield card.

When your third card is removed from your shield, then you immediately lose.

Deck Building

In the novel, the contents of a duellists deck are determined by their level and the skill points they have spent. Sadly, here on Earth, we don’t have access to the magical systems that underpin reality, so we have to make do with our best approximation.

I recommended that your deck is constructed of twenty-two cards, with a maximum mana value, after affinity of thirty-five. Astute readers will realise that this is the current state of Gareth’s deck at the end of the book. If you want to play a game with more power, you can of course increase these, though be warned the balance of the game might get worse the higher you go.

You should also choose an affinity for your deck when building it. This helps focus the kinds of monsters you want to use (though doesn’t limit at all. If you want to include an angel in your goblin deck you can, though it will cost more) and provide a general idea of the kind of strategy you might want to employ. Not all affinities are created equal. Monsters are born as I think of them, so some affinities have notably more than others. I will update the bestiary with each new novel, so make sure you’re on that newsletter to hear about the new cards!

Using skills, feats, and runic items.

As already mentioned, these basic rules don’t include several functions from the levelling system of the book. These functions exist to create exciting narrative moments and as we focus on Gareth and his friends the novel doesn’t even begin to explore the innumerable effects out there. If you and your opponent want to include them, then you can, the details for them are clearly listed in the novel. Be warned that there may be some distinctly more powerful strategies as a result.

And that’s all. These are very much the core rules to Goblin Summoner, and I hope to expand on them as we go into new exciting adventures. If you want to try a duel for yourself, grab the bestiary, print out some cards and get duelling.

Grab a copy of the bestiary here.

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If you want to check out more gamelit and LitRPG from myself, check out my other series!

- Aether Knight

- Real-Time Starcommander

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