Vondaire didn’t understand people’s fascination with sand. Beaches were repugnant cesspools of algae, dead fish, and loathsome people burning in the sun. Yet, people went willingly. He had met people who traveled for days or weeks, using their hard-earned money just to sit on sand.

  At least the Desert was different. It wasn’t better, but it was different.

  There was nothing better than a city. More towers needed city floors.

  Vondaire stepped to the side as a giant scorpion tail stabbed where he had just been. Three more charged. Before long, he would be surrounded.

  A ghostblade formed in his hand.

  It might be time for a real weapon. As much as he despised looting, he knew there were some key ingredients he could gather in his current adventure.

  Eight slashes killed all four giant scorpions. A real weapon would’ve required four or less attacks. Burning away mana in creatures and heroes that didn’t use spells was a waste of time and effort.

  He would need to recalculate his approach to some fights. Even against Isaak, Vondaire may have won on his own if he had a real weapon to butcher the wizard.

  Acquiring a custom weapon from Althowin wasn’t on the top of his list of things to achieve within the next week, but it could be slotted in a few steps from the top.

  What was more important was getting to the top of the Desert, asking Nehadya a question, and getting back to Vraxridge before Owin could.

  The goblin had a head start, but Vondaire could still win.

  He walked through the ruins, dodging traps without much thought, and threw a spectral kunai through the head of the floor boss. A quick dodge brought him under a slash, and a firm punch to the jaw ended the mob’s life.

  Onto the second floor.

  ***

  Barcaen was as loathsome as he remembered.

  At least he only had to spend a few hours within the city to confirm.

  Erlianeth idly strummed a lute as they walked and hummed quietly. If the entertainer hadn’t been successful, Taralim would’ve been incredibly annoyed by the noise.

  Since they had found Vondaire, he kept that annoyance to himself.

  Kurigaess kept her face hidden by her wide-brimmed hat even in the bright sunlight of Prouvaria.

  Taralim had to wear a similar hat, though his was out of necessity. Even while wearing it, he could feel the bite of the sun on his pale skin. He longed for shade. Unfortunately, there would be little.

  Zetyrth had been quiet, watching and learning as she should, while Sussuphon led the way, ensuring they didn’t walk into an ambush.

  It was unlikely. All reports had stated Vondaire already entered the Desert.

  There was a benefit to the umbra’s arrogance. He was so set on everyone knowing who he was that he didn’t cover his tracks like he used to. Back in his Unity Force days, Vondaire would have been impossible to track, even for Taralim.

  Parties of heroes were outside the Desert. Some were camping in the ruins, some were waiting for their turn to enter.

  Sussuphon was already speaking with the line of heroes. The hunter jogged over and nodded. “Less than an hour ahead. Only one person went in after.”

  “How much will it cost us?”

  “They were open to negotiation,” Sussuphon said.

  “Check your gear. Speak with the others.” Taralim didn’t wait for Sussuphon’s acknowledgement. He strode right past and lifted his hand in greeting to the heroes. “Our party is two shards. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

  “We’ve been here for hours,” a man said.

  Taralim pulled a pouch from his belt. He lifted his head high enough for his yellow eyes to shine from underneath the hat. The hero shifted uncomfortably and took the pouch of coins without a word.

  Taralim waved his squad over and they all entered the void nexus.

  ***

  Owin reached his hand around the corner and cast Smoke Cloud. The smoke spread into the room, and before long, lasers started flying through.

  After a moment, the lasers ceased.

  Owin held up Isotelus, which flopped to the side. If he turned the ice blade on, it would use up one of his limited charges, and he had no idea what was beyond this room. He needed to save the ranged Shuriken ability for the rest of the floor.

  He pulled the Darkblade from his belt.

  Swarmers were annoying, but they floated slowly and were predictable. He could leave them hovering about while he killed the occultist. Even if he was hit by a few lasers, he would survive, but a fireball or stronger spell from the occultist could destroy him instantly.

  A single laser pierced the smoke and flew past Owin’s face.

  He took a deep breath and sprinted through the doorway. Before he reached the end of the smoke cloud, he tossed Isotelus. As soon as the floppy sword exited the smoke, a dozen lasers lit up the black room.

  Owin sprinted full speed out of the smoke and leapt at the floating ocular occultist. The Darkblade’s tip barely scratched the eye before one of the rotating rings smacked into Owin’s face and launched him to the ground. Lightning appeared from the ceiling and struck Owin directly in the back, eating a chunk of his health as electricity coursed through him, tensing muscles.

  He gasped and rolled. The electricity made his right hand seize into a tight fist. There was no time to think about that. All eyes turned to him.

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  Smoke Cloud was a low cost spell, and even with his mana away, he had regained enough to cast it a second time. As the cloud spread out, Owin dropped to the ground. As expected, lasers flashed overhead.

  Everything was worth a second try. He leapt out of the smoke, stabbing the Darkblade at the occultist.

  Its pupil snapped to him and whorled with red energy.

  He scored a slash, cutting through the iris, but it wasn’t nearly enough to kill the ocular. A ring hit him, helping spin him around as the red energy morphed to purple. An arcane spell exploded out of the eye, mostly hitting the shield. Owin was launched across the room, flipping over and over until he hit the ground, bounced, and crashed into the wall.

  “Shade,” he groaned. “You ass.”

  Lasers immediately started flashing across the room as the swarmers started shooting toward Owin. Their attacks that hit the floor and walls immediately vanished into the solid black material.

  Owin rolled, then sprinted, doing his best to ignore the pain as lasers singed his skin. As the electricity faded, his muscles relaxed and his metal hand opened once again.

  The occultist continued tracking him, charging another spell deep within its eye. The slash across its iris had done damage and even caused it to bleed, but it was far from enough.

  Owin jumped, grabbed a swarmer, and smashed it against the ground as he landed. He cut, punched, and smashed through more swarmers until red fire formed in front of the occultist’s pupil. It waited for the rings to pass, then launched the spell.

  Owin sprinted straight at it, knowing it was aimed where he had been. Just before the fireball struck his face, he dropped and slid. Its heat was intense, and as the spell exploded, he could feel the blaze. His health ticked down without the fire even touching him.

  Instead of leaping and failing again, Owin pivoted and sprinted right back through the door to the previous room. Some lasers followed as the last of the swarmers continued shooting carelessly.

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Cooldown: 30 seconds

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Cooldown: 29 seconds

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Cooldown: 28 seconds

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Cooldown: 27 seconds

  Owin continued trying to activate the spell until Shade popped into existence at his side.

  “You know, I can see whenever you use it.” The skeleton poked Owin’s face. “Are you feeling a little impatient?” Shade’s eye sockets narrowed. He dropped into a crouch and looked close at Owin’s face. “You’re burned.”

  “I know. It hurts.”

  Shade reached into Owin’s bag and poured a health potion on his face.

  A sigh escaped him as the burning soothed.

  “Need some help?” Shade opened his index. “I have a lot more mana. Wow. Great. It would be even better if I wasn’t a hunter.”

  “We need something ranged.”

  Shade stood tall, leaned into the doorway, and quickly leaned back as lasers started to fly. “I don’t want to be that guy, but I would like to remind you that at one point I had a bow and you said it probably wasn’t my true calling.”

  “You couldn’t get an arrow ready!”

  “People need time to learn new things.” Shade pinched the Darkblade between two fingers. “Give me this.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to try something.” He pulled the Darkblade from Owin’s hand. “If it doesn’t work, feel free to criticize me later.”

  ***

  Siora stood ahead of the party and took a deep breath. Her sword shined with the light of the sun like it knew its proximity to its origin.

  Lera desperately needed a rest. They all did.

  But Siora had continued pushing them. To the ninth floor.

  She took another deep breath. The Forge of Divine Light was just ahead. It was their last stop before the floor boss, then the tower boss.

  “May I?” Ernie asked, reaching out his hand.

  Siora frowned, but passed the sword to him. The only other person who had held her family’s sword since she inherited it was Artivan just before he became a lich. And now, she was willingly handing it over.

  How times change.

  “I believe we can,” Ernie said. “Kat?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Katalin leaned an elbow on Siora’s shoulder. “I don’t fucking know. Stop asking me.”

  Siora laughed softly.

  “Uh, if—” Potilia interrupted herself and tried to place her own elbow on Siora’s shoulder. Siora glanced at her, which caused Potilia’s face to flush. She backed away and held her hands straight. “Sorry!”

  “Calm down,” Siora said. “What were you saying?”

  Cixilo walked past and crouched at the edge. A river of lava flowed from above, collecting in a moat around the Forge. The metal bridge ahead of them was the only way to cross, as far as they could see. Cixilo tossed a loose stone into the river. “Just say it, Po.”

  “Right, right, right.” Potilia lowered her hands and mumbled something.

  “Po,” Katalin said.

  “According to the stories, there are the master claverstan blacksmiths who will trade, but they will also let you use the Forge if you give them the right materials,” Potilia said far too quickly and without a breath.

  “What materials?” Siora asked.

  “Geodes from the golems.” Potilia smiled broadly.

  “Fuck,” Katalin said. “I ditched mine for other stuff.”

  Ernie lowered the sword. “I did too.”

  Potilia swung her bag off her shoulder, opened the flap, and shoved it toward Siora. The entire pack was filled with geodes. “I-I thought this might happen.”

  “Po,” Siora said, grabbing her shoulders. “This is great!”

  Potilia’s eyes lit up. “Is it?”

  “She made me take some too,” Sylmare said.

  “Me too,” Lera said as she caught up. “It’s damn heavy.”

  “Alright,” Ernie said. He passed the sword back to Siora. “We can do a lot if we have the time.”

  “I need a nap,” Lera said.

  Sylmare nodded. “We all do.”

  “Ernie doesn’t sleep. Let’s get to the Forge and rest there. Yeah?” Katalin nudged Siora.

  “It’s a good plan. If we ally with the claverstan here, we can be protected from other mobs while we sleep. Po, I think you need to do the negotiating.”

  “No, no, no, no.” Potilia said, walking away as she continued repeating herself.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Sylmare said. “She’ll do it.”

  Siora nodded.

  Katalin and Ernie sat and opened their bags. They started wordlessly passing things back and forth and occasionally looked at one another, then back at the stuff in their bags like they were somehow communicating.

  “Do you want to fully lean into luminous damage?” Ernie asked. “We could push it toward fire instead with the lava readily available. Either option is viable. Fire will make this less useful next time you’re in the Ocean and luminous will make it ineffective against cathkabel and specters.”

  Siora held the shining blade in front of her eyes. “I think my mom would’ve liked to see it as a luminous weapon. It’ll be good against undead then, right?”

  Ernie nodded as he uncorked and sniffed a potion.

  “Is it possible to do both?” Katalin asked.

  “If we had Basolia and Althowin’s facilities.” Ernie scratched his face and looked down the river at the Forge of Divine Light. “Actually . . .”

  “Yeah, this is better than Althowin’s. You can do it,” Katalin said.

  “Luminous and fire?” Siora asked.

  Ernie squinted as he looked into the distance. He muttered a few things to himself, then nodded. “Yeah? Yeah. Kat’s right. We could do both.”

  Siora sheathed the sword. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Yes, technically. Reforging a weapon risks destroying it.” Ernie closed his weird bag and stood. He immediately helped Katalin to her feet.

  “He’s making it sound scary,” Katalin said. “He’s the best. Well, second best. But you know what I mean.”

  “I trust you,” Siora said. “If you think you can do it.”

  Ernie patted his bag. “I can. Althowin even provided some materials. I can do it.”

  Potilia walked back over, hugging her backpack. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Sylmare gave Siora a nod.

  “Then let’s get to it.” Siora placed her hand on the sword’s pommel and started over the bridge. Bright lava bubbled beneath her. A massive claverstan city spread through the cave behind them. A winding path started at the end of the bridge, leading down to the Forge of Divine Light.