Potilia had always wondered what things looked like after she read about them. There were thousands of images she had made in her mind, in her imagination. In her time in the Subterranean Dungeon, some of her images had been perfectly accurate and many had been about as wrong as they could be.

  The claverstan village of the fifth floor was a marvel. Village wasn’t even the right word. It was a city of industry. Canals funneled lava through the city to the foundries and factories. Smoke hung in the top of the cave like an eternal storm cloud, spewed from the top of metal buildings. Sounds of smithing echoed throughout the entire floor.

  “Fuck,” Siora said.

  Cixilo crouched at the edge of the small cliff they had appeared on. “That’s a big drop.”

  “There’s traps too,” Lera said. The knight gestured to a massive metal hammer just above, suspended from a thin chain.

  “Tripwires,” Potilia said quickly.

  Siora had her glowing sword out. The blade’s light shone on the stone as Siora inched forward, stopping as soon as she found the tripwire. “Cix, can you?”

  Potilia glanced at Sylmare, who had nothing to say. Using a Hog umbra over a fellow Void Nexus seemed like an insult. Potilia would have been insulted if she was in that position, but maybe that was just overreacting. Or maybe it wasn’t. She scratched her head.

  “I got it,” Cixilo said. She lowered her purple hood and leaned close to the tripwire. Her fingers brushed it gently, helping her follow its path to the trigger mechanism. After a quick motion that Potilia barely followed, the tripwire went limp and the massive hammer stayed attached to the ceiling.

  “Well done,” Ernie said. He had been in the middle of mixing some type of potion for the last twenty minutes, even as they passed through the stairs onto the fifth floor.

  Katalin put her hand on Siora’s shoulder and whispered something. They both laughed, then Siora started down the narrow stone path.

  “Is there anything you’re looking for here?” Sylmare asked.

  Ernie finally put his potion away. “Claverstan have a lot of unique materials. Any piece of their metal is valuable. The lava itself is too.” He leaned over the edge, looking far down at the lava pool beneath them. “I haven’t learned how to use that yet.”

  “Does Althowin know?” Sylmare asked.

  “Obviously,” Potilia blurted.

  They both looked at her.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Althowin does, but I’ve only seen her do it once. I don’t think she likes it. I could see Kat finding some good uses for it if we collect any.” Ernie fiddled with a glass bottle. “I assume this can hold lava, though I would need to test it before I let anyone try.”

  “Claverstan have metal containers,” Potilia said. She awkwardly gestured to her back and tried to make a shape with her hands. “You know?”

  “I do. We could collect one,” Ernie said.

  Siora reached the end of the narrow pass with the help of Cixilo and Lera. They had been happy to start following as soon as it was decided that Siora would lead the party back on the second floor. It went better than Potilia had expected.

  A claverstan in complicated metal armor approached. The rat had lava tubes coiled about its limbs, casting a harsh light.

  Potilia tensed. Siora was good at leading, but she wasn’t good at talking.

  “Give her a chance,” Sylmare said.

  Siora sheathed her sword, waved calmly, and approached the rat. She didn’t flinch as a gun was raised and pointed at her chest.

  Potilia was too far back to hear the conversation, but . . . everyone else was entirely calm. They were already sure Siora would figure it out.

  “I didn’t think you liked her,” Potilia siad.

  “People change, Po.” Sylmare nudged her. “We used to hate each other.”

  Potilia scowled. “I never hated you.”

  The claverstan soldier nodded, turned, and waved Siora on. She fell into step beside him and continued talking as they were led into the city. Katalin stayed close and excitedly talked to the rat.

  Cixilo appeared beside them, brushed some smoke off her cloak, and cleared her throat. “They’re going to bring us to the forge. Katalin said she wanted some of their lava and they agreed to a trade.”

  Ernie laughed softly.

  “Great,” Sylmare said. “Thank you.”

  Cix nodded, glanced at Potilia, smiled, and vanished.

  It was good that everyone was friendly. Who didn’t want friends? Potilia exhaled, brushed her hair from her face, and scowled.

  “What’s wrong?” Ernie asked.

  “N-nothing!” Potilia’s scowled deepened. “I don’t know!”

  Everyone looked back at her, including the rat, but Sylmare gestured for them to turn around. Katalin brought the claverstan’s attention back toward the city as she pointed to something and asked another question.

  “What is it?” Sylmare asked.

  “We—” Potilia scratched her head again. “We can’t all be friends. What happens when we leave? We’re going to stay friends?”

  “We’ve been friends despite the history of the hero companies,” Sylmare said. “What would change?”

  Potilia finally stepped off the natural stone bridge and started the descent toward the claverstan city. She groaned. “I don’t know. We’re only here because of Althowin.”

  “If the world is different when we get out, we decide what we do. Not Veph, Chorsay, or Althowin. If you want to stay friends, that’s up to us. Right?” Ernie turned to Sylmare.

  “Sure. Right. We’ve stayed friends because we wanted to.” Sylmare smiled. “Not because we were told to. I was actually told to kill you a number of times.”

  Potilia smiled at Ernie’s look of horror. “Chorsay told me to ask you to dinner the first time I told him about you.”

  “Dinner?” Sylmare’s brow furrowed as she averted her gaze and looked at the stalactites peeking through the thick smoke cloud.

  “What we do is our choice. Getting shards will help us make those decisions, but they are always ours to make.” Ernie stopped to pluck a withered plant that grew from a crack.

  Potilia slowed to wait for the alchemist. If she stopped paying attention, Ernie could end up knee-deep in the lava trying to harvest something. With Katalin out front, somebody had to keep an eye on Ernworth.

  Sylmare lingered just beside Potilia. After a moment, she got closer. “Chorsay never asked you to kill me?”

  Potilia tensed. A shiver ran through her entire body. Instead of looking at Sylmare, she kept her eyes on Ernie, who sniffed the withered plant. “Not once,” Potilia said.

  “Why?” Sylmare’s voice was almost a whisper.

  “Hurry up!” Katalin shouted. Her voice was amplified by a metal instrument attached to the claverstan soldier’s backpack. “Get moving!”

  With how loud she was, Katalin really didn’t need the amplification.

  Potilia glanced at Sylmare, smiled awkwardly, then grabbed Ernie’s arm and dragged the alchemist down the slope to the rest of the party.

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  ***

  Fortress Dungeon

  Third Floor

  One Shard Active

  Owin never knew what to expect as he emerged onto a new floor. It always took a moment to take it all in.

  The third floor of the Fortress was surprisingly simple to see and understand. As soon as he climbed out of the stairs, he saw, and understood, that he was locked in a jail cell. Prisoners filled every cell in the room while an elf loyalist stood guard in the center hallway.

  “A jail? Me, a criminal?” Shade gasped as he flailed out of the top of the stairs. “What did we do to deserve this?”

  “Kill the king,” Owin said.

  “Ah, right. That would do it, wouldn’t it?” Shade picked up the sleeping roll nearby. “Not even a cot? How inconsiderate.”

  “Quiet,” the guard called.

  Shade ran to the cell door and pressed himself against the bars. “I have a question for you.”

  The elf glanced at them, but didn’t move from the center of the hall. “What?”

  “Is that a truncheon?”

  The elf drew the weapon at his side. “Want to find out?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” Shade shoved his arm between the bars and waved.

  The elf marched over and smashed the weapon into Shade’s arm.

  Owin flinched, expecting Shade to poof into dust. Instead, the wooden club snapped in half and Shade grabbed the elf’s collar.

  “Moron.” Shade yanked the elf forward, smashing the mob’s head into the bars. He did it over and over until the elf crumpled onto the filthy stone floor. After another moment, Shade turned around with a ring of keys hanging from one skeletal finger.

  “Uh.” Owin took the keys. “Thanks?”

  “Oh, you are so welcome.” Shade pushed the cell door open, which he had apparently already unlocked. “Now . . .” He gestured to the end of the hall. “Why would there be apple-flavored gas leaking from under the door?”

  There was the same bright green smoke that had been pouring from the cauldron near the shapeless specter.

  “Specters,” Owin said.

  A hobgoblin in the next cell over raised an eyebrow. “No ghosts here.”

  “Why are you in jail?” Owin asked.

  The hobgoblin spat on the floor. “Murder.”

  Shade looked back at the dead elf. “Am I a criminal?”

  The hobgoblin spat again. “Yes.”

  Shade shrugged and strutted down the hall. “Want to fight any of the prisoners or are we just going about our adventure?”

  “I don’t really see why we would kill any of them.” Owin looked at each of the mobs inside the cells to see if there was anything special, but as far as he could tell, they were just a random assortment of hobgoblins, elves, and humans who all looked tired and hungry.

  “Well, you see, there is this idea about ending their misery. Why let them sit and suffer when a swift knife to the neck could end that suffering.” Shade mimicked stabbing himself in the neck a few times.

  “I’m not suffering,” the nearby human said.

  “Oh.” Shade took a step closer to the cell. “Why not?”

  “Couldn’t I unlock his door?” Owin asked.

  Shade snatched the key ring back, unlocked the door, and handed the whole set to the human. “Go free, I guess.”

  The human looked at the keys, up at Shade, then pulled the door shut again. “I’ll leave once you’re gone.”

  “Why? Am I ugly? It’s my looks, isn’t it?”

  The man shrugged.

  Shade, exasperated, stomped over to the wooden door at the end of the hall. He swiped his gloved hand through the smoke a few times before shoving his head into it. “Do you think it’s dangerous?”

  “Shouldn’t you ask before you do that?”

  Shade stood upright. “Yes.” He narrowed his eye sockets. “It’s probably fine.” He looked back over at the man standing in the cell. “Want to open it first?”

  “No.”

  “Shade, leave him alone.” Owin gently pushed past the skeleton and opened the door. The smoke was bitter, but it wasn’t causing any damage. He swiped his hand and flopped the sword through a few times until he fully emerged into the wide room beyond.

  A tall furnace built into the wall on the left belched out a stream of black smoke. Before it lay a pile of bodies. Some wrapped, others left open to the small rats that scurried about.

  Two loyalist elves sat in the middle of the room, drinking and laughing. They wore the same garb as the now-dead jail guard. While most of the room was old, ancient stone, their small setup consisted of a poorly constructed wooden table, a few benches, and a makeshift pig roast.

  Between the burning bodies, the roasting pig, the grime of the jail, and the bitter smoke, the scents were more than a little overwhelming. Shade, of course, was unbothered. The skeleton strode right through the green smoke that rose from a floor grate and leaned on one of the numerous dark stone columns.

  One of the elves kicked his feet up on the table, laughed, and burped. His eyes wandered into the dark, away from their fire, and landed on the giant reflection off Shade’s metal gauntlet.

  “You boys come here often?” Shade asked.

  Owin groaned and sprinted past. He had yet to try using Isotelus while it was floppy, so two somewhat unprepared mobs were going to be his best opportunity.

  The elf watching over the fire and the pig grabbed a cleaver from the table. Before he had a chance to swing, Owin landed on the table and slapped him across the face with a limp Isotelus. The pointed edges still cut into skin, and as the sword wrapped around the elf’s face, Owin yanked it back, tearing flesh.

  Despite his best efforts, the elf loyalist didn’t die. Without a shard, he was certain it would have died from that damage. Owin let the cleaver brush off his chitin armor and embed itself into the wood.

  Behind Owin, Shade tripped and threw the Thunderstrike Maul. Just as the other elf stood from the bench, the hammer struck his knee, denting armor and shattering bone. He fell, wailing.

  Shade crawled over and looked straight down at the elf. “You’re alive?”

  An armored fist cracked against Shade’s forehead.

  “Incredibly rude. I was checking on your wellbeing and you hit me.”

  Another punch to the face.

  Owin grabbed the flayed elf and cast Bolt straight into his brain. Sinew burned and released a stench that quickly melded into the overall malodor of the room. Still, he was alive and clambered for the clever.

  Another Bolt straight into his head dazed the elf. Owin grabbed what was left of his face and slammed it against the wooden table. They both collapsed as the wood underneath Owin shattered.

  As the limp body fell onto Owin, he turned his head to see Shade drop the hammer onto the other elf’s face. The skeleton flinched back as blood splattered. Shade noticed Owin’s look and tilted his own head to look under what was left of the broken table.

  “I think we need a weapon change.”

  “Yeah.” Owin stayed on his back and held up Isotelus. “I don’t want to use up its charges and it doesn’t seem as good when it’s floppy.”

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Shade chuckled to himself and leaned on the Thunderstrike Maul shaft. “Know what I mean?”

  “What?”

  “What?” Shade lifted the hammer and swung it back and forth causing the elf’s blood to splatter. “Gross.”

  “I think I’ll use the Incandescent Blade for a bit. What do you want to use?” Owin tossed the body to the side, brushed off random bits from his armor, and sat up. “Knives?”

  “I don’t really see myself as a knife man. I’m too strong for that.”

  Owin stared blankly.

  “Fine, I’ll give a knife a chance. Let me go put this hammer in storage and we’ll see what class I get. Maybe I’ll just use these fists like Suta taught me.”

  Owin walked over and passed Isotelus to Shade. “Is it a good idea to put both of these in your box?”

  The skeleton shrugged.

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Both elves had a few gems and coins, which Owin tossed into his bag. None of it was that important, but if he found a merchant, he wanted to have enough gold to buy at least one buff.

  Owin took one more look at the jail door to see if the others were going to emerge, but it was still clouded by the green smoke. In fact, most of the room was ringed in the sickly green smoke. It leaked through floor grates and drifted in from small, barred windows near the ceiling. Before long, the entire room would be covered in green smoke on the floor and black smoke on the ceiling.

  Owin wandered closer to the corpse furnace, which smelled even worse as he neared. A pile of decaying bodies was tucked into a compartment on the other side of the cooking pig, obscured from the guards’ view. Some charred skulls and bones were scattered around the base, tucked against the wall like someone had swept them to the side.

  He checked the closed parts of the furnace. Some were burning and had charred bones on the rack and others were empty and off. Smoke continued pouring into the room.

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Shade looked around the room, drew the Incandescent Blade, handed it to Owin, and walked away. Owin frowned as the skeleton marched across the room and stopped at the next door. He opened it and was bathed in green light.

  “A shapeless specter?” Owin asked.

  “What?” Shade closed the door, but green slime soon oozed underneath. “Yes.” He took a step back. “How do you feel about cutting it?”

  Owin held the Incandescent Blade in both hands. The last time he had activated the ability, he had been underwater. Now, it would burn longer and better. “I can cut it.”

  “Great because this one is massive. Biggest I’ve seen.” Shade opened the door and stepped aside. “I’d help, but I don’t have a weapon.”

  Owin waved some smoke from his face and hurried over. “You didn’t ask for a knife.”

  “I thought it was implied.” Shade opened his index. “This might be a stupid question, but are berserkers known for using knives? Does it matter?”

  Owin pulled the Darkblade from his belt and passed it over. “Don’t break it.”

  “We would have much bigger concerns than your anger if I broke this. Like, you know, Althowin’s anger.”

  Owin stepped back as the shapeless specter oozed out of the room. Inside were two rows of cells identical to the room he had emerged in. Identical other than the lack of bodies. Countless bones drifted aimlessly inside the shapeless specter, showing just how many people it had consumed. If he didn’t kill it now, it would drift to the pile of bones and the other cells and grow even larger.

  Flames raced up the Incandescent Blade. The mana drain was a slow trickle compared to the last time he had used it.

  “Ooh.” Shade took another step back. “I like it.”

  Owin slashed through the specter as it neared. Wherever the fire touched, the slime sizzled and vanished. But there was a lot of specter.

  “I thought this would be easier,” Owin said.

  “I have an idea!” Shade scurried away. “Just give me a minute!”

  An intelligent, world hopping alchemist goes on a quest to explore the universe. It's a mix of science fiction, fantasy, and more as he discovers new worlds.

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