Jace stared up at the ceiling as they walked through the gate to the central tomb. The main bridge was dark, especially so far from the glow of the crust-lift behind them, but when they got closer to the gate, the stone of the chamber began emitting a soft light. It had no colour, but it was enough to give the arches and gargoyles definition, to show the very peak of the entrance hall and the vast array of decorative carvings around the entrance gate.

  They passed under the main Luminian sigil, the shield and hammer, and entered a long hallway that stretched off into the distance.

  It was a straight hallway leading directly across the bottom of the tenth level of this central tomb. Statues lined the walls and rune-lines snaked down the floor, pulsing each time the tomb sent out a burst of Aes.

  But there were no winding, labyrinthine tunnels. Just a straight path to the other side, a few kilometers down the hallway, with a glowing blue crust lift on the other side. In the very center, there was some sort of plaza, but he couldn’t make out any details.

  “Did you keep track of the time?” Lessa asked Jace as they walked. “I mean, we know roughly how long we’ve been down here, but there was supposed to be a specific date, and we could plan—”

  “It is about noon on the surface,” Kinfild provided. “If Neikir is waiting for Jace, then the fight may begin. If we arrive first, then we will have time to rest.”

  “Arrive?” Jace asked. “I mean, we still need to figure out…where.”

  “It won’t be so difficult,” Ash provided.

  Jace tilted his head. “It won’t?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They kept walking down the hall, uninterrupted, but likewise, finding no new rewards. For now, Jace was going to have to face Neikir as he was. Level thirty-six, five usable technique cards.

  Before they reached the central atrium, though, just in case, Jace stopped. There were still a few attribute shards to assign. While he might not have had time to encourage them into taking effect, he could at least begin the process.

  He placed five in Strength and five in Agility. Although his fortification card scaled off Resistance and Vitality, he needed to still function at a high level without the card active, and improving the base would still help him when the card was active. Once he pulled himself out of the dreamspace, he reviewed his attributes (just by calling up his main sheet with a push of intent).

  [Attributes]

  Strength: 25

  Vital: 52

  Resistance: 62

  Agility: 25

  Potency: 1

  “Kinfild?” Jace asked. “Is it…proper to see someone else’s attributes? Or to ask about them?” Nobody had even offered to let Jace see, so he’d started to think that it might not have been acceptable. But he was starting to get curious.

  “It…is generally an activity reserved for good friends,” Kinfild replied. “Which…I suppose we qualify as. Or, when your senses develop to a point that you can perform a spiritual scan, the target will feel it as well. A tingle in the spine, usually, or a faint presence almost examining your core.”

  “And that would be taken as a threat,” said Ash. “Either you doubt someone’s strength, or you are trying to judge their strength and choose if you’re going to attack.”

  Jace suddenly glanced at Lessa, and she shrugged. “Well, it’s not my fault that I can see everyone’s attributes,” she said. “But they won’t feel it when I scan them. At least, you haven’t felt anything, right?”

  “Now I’m curious how often you were keeping track of my attributes,” he muttered light-heartedly.

  Kinfild reached into the folds of his robe and produced his Reader, then aimed it at himself and triggered it. It projected a small hologram.

  Jace took hold of it, but it was in the script system of this galaxy, and it took a few seconds for him to decipher the letters. For the most part, it was a direct transcription—A was called Aur and had a different symbol, but made the same noise. After a half-minute of staring, he’d deciphered the entirety of Kinfild’s main status sheet.

  [Gathered Analytics]

  Name: Kinfild of Crimsonhaven

  Class: Curse Mage

  Advancement Progress: Soul-Circle Opening – 3rd Stage (97.7%)

  Standard Level Rating: 31

  [Attributes]

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Strength: 18

  Vital: 32

  Resistance: 0

  Agility: 16

  Potency: 124

  [Technique Cards] (5/5 Socketed)

  Flame Snap (Attack)

  Hollow Dragon’s Bite (Hybrid Curse)

  Flame Brace (Fortification)

  Incineration’s Mark (Curse)

  Ember Embrace (Curse)

  [Significant Items]

  Staff of Yssil, Standard-Issue Crimson Table Robes

  [Titles]

  Crimson Seeker (+10 Potency)

  Jace raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never seen those last two cards. Least, not that I knew of.”

  “They are my two legendary-grade cards,” Kinfild said. “Excellent curses, though I’ve not had a chance to use them in your presence. Their cooldown is long, and they are best saved for emergencies—not automatons, who it would barely have affected.”

  “It…wouldn’t have?” Jace asked.

  “Curses can only affect a living being, or, to a lesser degree, a kyborg, and the automatons are not that.”

  Jace handed Kinfild back the Reader. “Good to know. Then, if you don’t mind me asking…your potency is really high. How’d that happen? Like, you probably have about the same amount of attributes total as me, but you’re a few levels below.”

  Kinfild snorted. “I have lived and absorbed Aes for much longer than you have, too. You don’t earn attribute shards by levelling up, you accumulate them with Aes. The more Aes you draw in, the more enters your body, allowing you to distribute it as you desire. Titles and equipment can help, but experience and age too.”

  Jace glanced at Ash, suddenly curious, but if what Kinfild said about the customs among Wielders ws true, that wouldn’t really be proper, and he didn’t want to offend or anger the more powerful Wielder.

  They continued on for another minute before arriving in the central atrium of the dungeon level. It was at an intersection between four enormous hallways just like the one they’d travelled down. The hallways connected the surrounding crust-lifts in all directions.

  It would’ve fit a skyscraper in it from floor to ceiling, and between each hallway intersection stood looming statues of Luminian kings adorned with robes and crowns, all holding various weapons, and with banners draped over their shoulders.

  At the atrium’s center was an opening to a spiral staircase, which led straight down, presumably to another crust-lift.

  Jace had almost expected another tomb at the center, but there was nothing.

  The real reward, though, was directly below.

  He ran to the center of the atrium and spun around, hunting for any sign of Neikir or the scavengers, but the tomb was empty. Devoid of tampering.

  Then that was better for him. A few hours to prepare—or maybe Neikir was late, and would forfeit, and it would be the easiest grudge-match of his life.

  When Neikir arrived, Jace expected a little more fanfare.

  The Wielder approached directly from the north, storming down the hallway with a troop of mortal scavengers on his heels. There were about twenty of them in total, clad in mismatched orange and teal armour, hoisting plasma rifles and shielded sabres.

  Neikir himself carried a Whistling Blade at his hip, but the moment he saw Jace, his face twisted into shock and disbelief, and he ripped the weapon out of its sheath. Its blade screamed dissonantly, and the glass shone purple.

  Neikir wasn’t a hunter. No matter what he had to fight through to get here, he wouldn’t receive any reward for it. Sure enough, when he drew close enough, the tag appeared above his head, reading: [Level 42 Aes Wielder – Soul-Circle Opening – Twelfth Stage].

  Strong senses, but Jace could still go toe-to-toe with that. Neikir still hadn’t gotten past Soul-Circle Opening and wasn’t too far ahead.

  “Lessa,” Jace whispered. “Can you do a scan of him and give me an overview?”

  She grinned. “Well, his muscles are very toned, and he’s got a perfect tan for a Mirrenian—”

  “You know what I mean,” Jace groaned. Mirrenian, though? Must’ve been the species that had magenta skin.

  She snickered, then said, “Give me a few seconds.”

  “We cannot interfere once the duel begins,” Kinfild said. “No matter how much we might want to. And none of his underlings can either. This is between you and him.”

  “I understand,” Jace said.

  “He’s…some variation of a trooper-class,” said Lessa “Super high Strength, medium Resistance and Health. Doesn’t care about Potency, and has minimal Agility. His aspect is metal, and he’s got five foundation pillars.”

  “Only five?”

  “I’m only seeing five,” she replied. “Five cards. Three attack cards, one fortification card, one forging card. No utility or curses.”

  Jace nodded. Neikir was unbalanced and attack heavy. A berserker of sorts.

  “Feeling threatened?” Lessa asked lightheartedly.

  “I’ll do what I have to do,” Jace said. “Because there are people who need protecting. Not ‘cause there’s any kind of threat from him.”

  “I’m kidding, Jace,” Lessa whispered. She snatched his hand. “Look…I’m worried, alright? Don’t die on me. We still…uh, need you.”

  He blinked a few times, trying to think of what to say, and eventually ended on a simple, “I won’t.”

  Then, drawing, his Whistling Blade, he walked out to face Neikir. When he reached the center of the atrium, on one side of the stairwell down, he faced the young Wielder and pointed his sword. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t show up.”

  “We can blame your early arrival on your companions,” Neikir snarled. His scavengers fanned out behind him and pressed their backs against the wall. They held their rifles upright, and most of them had flicked the safety catches off. Their fingers hovered over the trigger. “Did the other Wielders carry you down on their shoulders?”

  Jace shrugged, then said, “Are you ready?”

  “You’re nothing,” Neikir snarled. “The universe will forget people like you. There’s nothing you can do to make a difference—you don’t have the nerve to throw out your ideals and do what’s necessary.”

  “You’ve got some grand intention aside from getting your dad rich?” Jace asked, half-curious.

  But at that, Neikir only spat, then let out an enraged shout and charged.

  Jace took it as a no.

  He stepped to the side, and like he’d practiced against the automatons’ fists, whirled his own blade in an arc ahead of him. He deflected Neikir’s jab. The two blade’s clashed with an explosion of sparks and a bright flash. It left streaks in his eyes and made his ears ring with how loud it screeched.

  He jumped back, then whirled his blade into an upright position. “Then I guess you’re ready.”