Ar'Kendrithyst

Jane stood atop the sands in the Crack, roughly at the midpoint between the Dead City and the Forest, looking at the flag at the beginning of the opening in the wall, and at the sky just beyond; the ridge of sloping sand blocked her view of the actual Forest.

She was here on a mission, half volunteered, half by necessity, placed in this mid-ground spot by a compromise; she was where she needed to be. This was the way of things, when one was dealing with the Shades.

The Crack loomed above, a wide, hundred meter tall rent in the red-purple-smokey crystalline walls of the Dead City, while the sun beat down from high noon, scattering through the kendrithyst crystal all around Jane like she was at a rave party. A strong wind blew from inside the Dead City, through the Crack, causing the blue flag atop the pole at the entrance to flap wildly, spacking and cricking as it whipped in the air; the only real noise for kilometers around.

And right beside her, in the best possible central position inside the Crack, stood Fallopolis, an old Shade of unknown age, who looked, and even sometimes acted, like the kindly old grandma she resembled. Fallopolis stood in the middle of the Crack for the same reason as Jane. But as time ticked on, Fallopolis’s reason for being here had changed from at least one reason, to at least two. It was Fallopolis’s second mission that was starting to grate on Jane’s nerves.

Jane’s nerves were already very, very frayed; but she held it together. She could hold it together until she didn’t need to.

“YoOOu should invite your faAAther to visit when this Champion kerfuffle is oOOver.” Fallopolis said, adjusting her hair with one hand, while holding a kendrithyst crystal staff with the other and checking herself in its reflection. “This is your faAAther’s ploOOt, after all. I woOOuld congratulate him! With tea and caAAke! Once Planter is dead! Ah haAA!”

Fallopolis had said the same thing several different ways since they started their waiting game. Jane did not rise to the bait then; she would not rise to the bait now.

“Damn this hair.” Fallopolis picked at her wispy white hair, trying to get it to stay in place. “Ugh!” She pulled; her hair came out, her hair grew back. “Speak, child, or I will violate the agreement! I murder you, right now.”

Jane immediately said, “My father is an archmage, and none of your compatriots would allow such a thing to go unchallenged. In this current political climate, I cannot condone such an action.”

“Damn this hair!” Fallopolis let go of her staff. The crystal hung in the air where she placed it, as she used both her hands to pull at her unruly grey mop that supposedly passed for hair. She huffed. She dropped her arms to her side. She asked, “How would yoOOu curl your hair?”

“I would not.” Jane pointed to the clip around her held-back hair, saying, “I do this with [Conjure Armor].”

“Phhbt!” Fallopolis asked, “How would yooOOOu straighten it?”

“Between two hot pieces of metal.”

“An idea! I could try this.” Fallopolis hummed. “I shall not murder yoOOu today.”

Jane said nothing.

Fallopolis suddenly stood straighter. “SHE’S HERE!” The Shade demanded, “Tell me my hair looks good!”

Jane looked at Fallopolis, because to not look at her before she answered would be a grave mistake; emphasis on the grave. Jane pointedly did not look too far backward. She had already seen what the Shades had prepared to welcome the Champion and her party, and if Jane looked at it too much, she would lose her mettle. Fallopolis’ hair, though, Jane could look at that. The hair was a mess, as always, but it was an organized mess; part of her costume.

Jane said, “Your hair looks good.”

Wild-eyed, Fallopolis demanded, “Tell me the truth!”

“Your hair looks like an organized mess.”

“PERFECT!” Fallopolis turned to shadow, to air, wisping away into the walls of the Crack. “Don’t tell them about me! I am making entrances!”

Jane did not ignore Fallopolis, not at all; to ignore her was to tempt fate. But she did pretend to ignore her, as the old Shade flitted through the crystal to lie in wait under the third most obvious natural shadow in the stone. Jane was pretending to ignore quite a lot, right now.

Jane stood taller, watching the ridge of the sands at the top of the Crack; waiting.

A dog appeared over the edge of sand; brown and shaggy and obviously a summoned elemental of some kind. The dog looked at Jane. Jane waved, curt, once; just to acknowledge the dog’s presence.

The dog spoke, “What the fuck are you?”

Jane answered, “Normal human; Jane Flatt. You probably met my father, Erick Flatt. I’m with the Army. Consider me a continuation of your quest.”

The dog looked up and behind Jane, then back to Jane. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“I will not repeat the speech I have been given to a dog. This is neutral territory, in as much as anywhere can be neutral inside A—” Jane cut herself off. She had almost called the city ‘Ar’Kendrithyst’ while the Shades were watching. That would have been a mistake. Jane continued, “Inside a great city such as this. I have been given a declaration to share with the Champion and her people.” She dutifully added, “And you will hear it, upon pain of the city opening, and every Shade adding itself to ‘Atunir’s little quest’. End quote.”

The shaggy dog said nothing.

Jane waited.

The shaggy dog asked, “Some binding terms from the Shades watching?”

“They will give none. You are entering their territory, and I am the one who got tagged to give this speech, so come on out, or go away. Those are the only options.”

Jane cringed, hoping that they would pick one of the given options, and not the obvious third—

“We could just kill you.” The dog said, “And every single Sha—”

A chorus of boos filled the Crack, like a stadium of angry voices, vibrating the sand into a mire. Jane did not sink into the sand, but the dog did. Some of the more notable objections included:

“You would kill your quest giver’s daughter!? Shame!”

“SHAME SHAME SHAME!”

“Kill the dog, kill the dog!”

Jane stood strong, but her bones felt like jelly. Damage ticked off, 10 here, 30 there. 500 points of her [Personal Ward] vanished in three seconds.

The objections turned into a cheer, just as loud, just as damaging, when five people stepped into the entrance to the Crack. One of them was a brown-skinned woman, Jane’s own age, wearing yellow maybe-leather armor, the color of wheat. She was Yetta, obviously, according to the divine energy surrounding her, and the voice of Killzone speaking into Jane's mind.

The feed of telepathic communication between her and the Command Center gave her lots of information every second; she was not in danger right now, but if anything changed…

Behind Yetta came a dark-skinned man, wearing brown leathers and clutching two long daggers; Basil Bay, childhood friend to Yetta. A burly woman crested the sand ridge beside Basil, completely covered in grey plate armor a bit darker than Teressa’s grey magic; Dorthy Bay, also childhood friend to Yetta, sister to Basil. Dorthy was human, like all of them, but she was one of the largest humans Jane had ever seen. Next to that large woman was a skinny man, completely covered in black scale armor; that would be Allan Trow, mage of the Tower. And finally, came a pale blond man in white cloth, with gold accents; Prince Cyril Odaali.

The ‘audience’ ‘behind’ Jane went quiet.

Yetta walked forward. She stopped fifteen feet from Jane. “State your speech, then remove yourself from my sight.”

Jane did not hesitate, “Firstly: You will refrain from popping any [Scry] eyes. Every eye you pop, means someone dies. The City has prepared for you, Yetta, and this is one of the many new millstones you must carry on your journey though this dark place.”

Yetta went still. She nodded.

Jane said, “Secondly: 25 Shades have each prepared a dungeon for you. Every prepared dungeon contains a Door Guardian, a Mid Boss, a Final Encounter, and a Daydropper nest. For every dungeon you do not clear, you will find an appropriate encounter from that dungeon aiding in Planter’s defense. As a reward for clearing a dungeon, besides preventing a future threat, you will also be rescuing people from certain death. These are the same people who will die if you pop the [Scry] eyes.” Jane added, “You need to be aware, that the second you step into the Garden, then the people at the bottom of every dungeon that you have not cleared, will die. The Army believes that there are 350 people in total.

“These are the threats and the games that the Shades have prepared for you."

Yetta nodded, narrowing her eyes.

Jane continued, “The Army has declared the whole thing unfair, and in the course of the Shades' preparation for you, the Army has gained you several concessions.”

Yetta glared, her voice a heavy weight, “What have you bargained for in my name?”

Jane nodded. “The concessions are as follows, and no more: I am allowed to guide you, if you wish, and I will not be overly targeted by the Shades.

“You have the option to send the Army into any dungeon you wish. You just need to kill the guardian protecting the front door, so that we might rescue these people in your place. Using your Divine Scan will reveal the general location of every prepared dungeon; they all have Daydroppers growing inside.

“You have one week to complete as much as you are able, and then all semblance of this prepared order will be abandoned. Whatever you have not completed will happen as it is wont to happen.

“And lastly, if you abide by the spirit of this event, you might even get help from the Shades whose dungeons you clear, or who you please in some way. This is one such encounter, right now.” Jane turned, gesturing, and finally looking at the monster behind her. “Your first event is this Umbral Wyrm.”

Down where the sands of the Crack touched the red crystal road leading to Forward Base, twenty meters out, began the body of a black wyrm made of shadow and bone. Two hundred meters long and as wide as the highway itself, the sinuous creature wrapped around and through the kendrithyst crystal, its half-shadow body half inside the road and nearby towers, just as much as it was exposed. Shadow licked across the whole, completely silent monster. It had been staring at Jane since the moment she had begun waiting for Yetta to appear, but now, the dark monster was staring at Yetta.

The Shades were controlling its insanity somehow, and none of the learned mages at the Command Center quite knew how. The veterans all suspected it was being controled through sheer telekinetic power.

And not to be undone by the horrible monster, countless black-rimmed white [Scry] eyes filled the air, everywhere; the Shades were watching.

And not to be undone by all of that: Fallopolis finally made her entrance.

A grandmother’s voice echoed in the kendrithyst crystal all around the Crack, “HellooOOooOOooOO, new CHAMPION!”

Jane moved left, getting well out of the way.

Cheers filled the air as Fallopolis strode out of the stone, from every direction all at once, shadow gathering like iron filings slamming into a magnet in the center of the Crack. She danced one foot out of her own shadow, kendrithyst staff swinging wide; a parade marcher’s baton. Shadows flashed, and she was wearing something like a tuxedo, but spikier. Spotlights came all around, lighting her up, casting shifting darkness and brilliant illumination throughout the red-purple-smokey crystals of the Crack.

Fallopolis sang, “Greetings! ChoOOsen of AtuniiiIIIr!”

Boos filled the Crack, directed at Yetta.

Yetta and her people were prepared for a fight, but they did not move. They waited, just as silent as the umbral wyrm staring at them. They were talking to each other with [Telepathy], though, if the lines of intent around their heads were any indication of a truth.

Fallopolis gestured toward the umbral wyrm with her kendrithyst staff. “I’ll kill it for yoOOu, if one of you take Planter’s place, as the next Shade of the Gardens!”

The mage from the Tower, Allan, instantly said, “I accept!”

Fallopolis went still.

Murmurs filled the air.

Fallopolis asked, “You accept?”

“Yes,” said Allan. “My conditions are that we kill all the daydroppers and Planter and the Kill and Exterminate Quest completes, and I get completion credit, along with the 10 points.”

Giggles filled the air, along with some grunts, some whispers, and some angry words.

Fallopolis said, “ThoOOse are caveats, if I’ve ever heard!” She turned to the watching [Scry] eyes, and the wyrm, putting on a show for them as well as for herself, “I accept!”

A violent air seized Reality around the wyrm. The umbral wyrm began to struggle as something invisible held it in place. Bolts and Beams and fire and light shot out from the monster in every direction as it realized it was under deadly attack, but all of the wyrms efforts were redirected back into the beast; a trick of Shade magic, or another application of some other unknown spell, Jane didn’t know; no one really did.

Fallopolis swung her arms wide, bringing to bear the full force of her awesome power. The wyrm was pulled from the highway, with the ease of pulling a loose thread from the hem of a shirt, and all the horror of pulling a heartworm from an artery. The monster split here and there. Blood poured.

And Fallopollis pulled.

She pulled the umbral wyrm apart in a cascade of gore and terror. Bones fit for a whale flung in every direction, driving into crystal towers and falling into the darkness of the city below. Blood and viscera flowed. Dark flesh smoldered here and there, surely full of shadow essences. The umbral wyrm was dead, in the single most entrancing and awful display of power Jane had ever witnessed. But the show was not over.

A brilliant white grand-rad, two meters across, hung in the air, gently floating toward Fallopolis. Loud boos rocked the air, fifty damage here, a hundred there, decrying killing for her own personal gain, but she didn’t care; Fallopolis merely welcoming the grand-rad to herself. As the white crystal touched her body, it cracked, breaking apart and coming back together, condensing into a brilliant star the size of a raindrop, to disappear into Fallopolis' chest.

The crowd was still booing.

“Shut thy mouths!” Fallopolis spoke, and the air died. [Scry] eyes were pushed back. Light and shadow played across the Crack as Fallopolis turned back to Yetta, then stared at the Tower mage. She pointed at the man. “You’re now bound, by ancient pact; we’ve all agreed, and now it’s fact.”

No one had a chance to move before a cold darkness flowed through the crystal of the Crack, stabbing into Allan, through the slits in his dark armor, into his fingers, seeping into his body. If he cried out in pain, Jane did not know; shadows clogged his throat. And then it was over. The man stood, he shook. He stilled. He breathed.

Allan sighed, and said, “A pact, then.”

Fallopolis laughed from every direction at once as her body shattered into shadows.

Jane stood to the side of the Crack. The road to Forward Base was empty, save for countless [Scry] eyes, watching, waiting for the Champion to begin her assault on the city. Where would Yetta go first? There were no wolves or giants prepared to strike; the only creature for kilometers had been the wyrm, and that threat was gone, now. The Dead City was dead silent.

Yetta and her people were silent, too. The Champion did not turn to scold the man in the dark armor; she hadn’t tried to stop him from bargaining with Fallopolis, either. She just regarded him, like blocks had fallen into place; like the most obvious thing in the world had happened.

Yetta turned to Jane. “What are you still doing here?”

“I’ve been appointed as your guide to the City. The Shades think it’s all rather hilarious; like you now have a double quest giver.”

“I don’t accept you.” Yetta said, “Get out of my sight.”

Jane nodded. “Gladly. I will be leading the charge into whatever dungeons you decide to open for us, though, as well as retrieving any people you tag as ‘rescued’." She stressed, "You must actually tag them and say ‘rescued’, just so you know.”

Yetta’s face filled with righteous outrage. Jane couldn’t blame the Champion for her rage; Jane was angry, too. She just hid her anger, for now.

Yetta stormed, “Is this all just some game to you! I need to save my homeland! But now I have to trudge through this shit! This amusement park that should have been blasted to dust centuries ago!” She yelled, “I don’t give a shit about any fucking adventurer who got themselves trapped in this Dead City, trying to steal from Shades! We have the rest of the world and my homeland to worry about!” She turned to her people. “We’re going straight to Planter.” She turned to Jane. “Away with you, shadeling.”

The old Jane would have tried to smack the shit out of anyone who insulted her like that; to call someone a ‘shadeling’ was like telling all the watching Shades that there was a new minion to be had. Jane was already on thin ice, in that department. Tania Webwalker still hadn’t accosted Jane, but Jane had seen more shadowspiders, staring at her from crevices and from around corners, than anyone else in the Army had seen in their entire careers.

Today’s Jane just bowed, demure, saying, “Champion,” as she stood even further to the side of the Crack.

Yetta, Basil, Allan, and Cyril started down the sandy path into Ar’Kendrithyst, pretending to ignore Jane, but Jane was openly staring at each and every one of them. They were each poised for an attack from any direction. That was smart of them. Tendrils of thought connected them to each other. That was also smart. They were probably screaming at each other right now, if Basil’s twitching face and Yetta’s narrowed eyes were any indication. That was not smart. They needed to either control their expressions or wear complete helmets if they lacked such control; two of them were wearing full plate, the rest of them could, too.

Allan, in his full black armor, walked tall; either thinking he could get out of a pact made with a Shade, or expecting to die well before completion.

… Or maybe he expected to extract help from the Shades, by giving them an obvious plaything. That was a valid angle, too. It was widely suspected that Bulgan did much the same thing, running the gamut of the Shade elites, extracting pacts, running the risk of becoming a shadeling well before he got enough of whatever-it-took to become a Shade.

But if Allan expected Killzone, or even Jane, to allow another person to become a Shade, then Allan would be dead before he left back for Odaali.

Dorthy lingered on the path, coming even with Jane.

Dorthy asked, “Maybe you can tell me how it’s possible for anyone to work alongside these monsters? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Jane said, “They have been rapidly preparing for Yetta’s arrival, ever since Planter put himself on the Kill and Exterminate Quest. In their original plan, we had no way to rescue the people they have captured. Now, we do.”

Dorthy paused. She asked, “What was their original plan?”

“The Shades’ original plan still involved the dungeons, but they were also going to throw their worst at you, right away, killing hostages every hour Planter remained alive.” Jane said, “We talked them down to what it is today, and to give you a week.”

Yetta yelled behind her, “I would have preferred the gauntlet!”

Jane almost argued that Yetta had no idea what the fuck she was talking about, but she kept her mouth shut.

Yetta stood where the red highway started, and the sands of the Crystal Forest ended. The entirety of Ar’Kendrithyst revealed itself to her, and she either paused to gauge the danger, or to stare at the beauty of all that crystal under the noon sun. Allan, Basil, and Cyril flanked her, having much the same unknowable reaction.

Dorthy walked down the sands to join them, saying, “I want a guide, and I want to save some of the people, Yetta.”

Yetta said, “Every day we delay, more people die in Odaali.”

Dorthy said, “Then we conscript the people we save. They’re Ar’Kendrithyst adventurers; they have to be higher level than the people we have defending the front lines.”

The wind blew, while Yetta remained silent, thinking.

Yetta sighed, saying, “You have a point.” She looked back, frowning as she appraised Jane. “What level are you? What’s the most dangerous monster you’ve killed?”

Jane strolled down the sands, toward Yetta’s party, saying, “Level 49. Vampiric Kraken.”

Basil spat out, “On your own, nitwit!”

Jane repeated, “Vampiric Kraken.”

Basil laughed. Black-armored Allan turned to regard Jane through his thin-slitted face-plate.

Yetta asked, “[Shadowalk]?”

“Yes. Like I said, I won’t be under your power, and you’re not expected to defend me.”

“Good.” Yetta said, “I accept your offer as a guide. I will not be defending you; you are not part of my party. If we are in danger, you are expected to run.” She declared, “We will be saving the people on the way to Planter, and that is all.”

Jane asked, “Could you perhaps just kill all of the Door Guardians? The Army would like to save the hostages, even if you cannot.”

Dorthy said, “We could do that, Yetta.”

Yetta frowned. “Fine.” She turned back to the city. The thin pulse of her Divine Scan blasted out from her in a sphere of thick air. A second passed. She pointed down into the depths of the city, into the darkness to the right of the red highway. “First stop is down there.”

Everyone else gazed into the dark depths of the city, but Jane did not have to; she had been running all across this city for the last month. She knew what Yetta’s Divine Scan had revealed.

Jane declared, “That would be Fallopolis’ dungeon. Expect wolves and some tips for adventuring in the city. She doesn’t like to kill people unless they piss her off; she might even have tea and cakes set out for you—” Jane smiled, adding, “Because Allan here just betrayed the rest of the world.”

Black-armored Allan flinched, but he otherwise ignored Jane. A dark [Scry] eye floated down from him into the depths.

Yetta glared at Jane. “How much information are the Shades feeding you?”

“None.” Jane said, “Killzone is quite talkative, though.”

In truth, Killzone was only one of five voices feeding Jane tactical information, but he was mostly quiet after the initial confrontation was over; he only spoke when absolutely necessary. But Yetta, and more importantly, all the [Scry] eyes watching, did not need to know that.

Tactical lies were necessary. Guiding Yetta through the Dead City was only one small part of the massive machinery that the Army had organized for today.

- - - -

In the middle reaches, down a wide staircase carved into the kendrithyst, where sunlight stayed above and the crystal was black as night, laid the entrance to Fallopolis’ dungeon. The walk down here was easy; lightorbs had been strung the whole way and all the monsters native to this part of the city had either been banished or eaten.

It was also rather illuminated, down here, because the entire path to Fallopolis’ dungeon had been littered with lightwards that spelled out hints for tackling the Dead City. Watch your back. Watch the crystal. Don’t make noise. Don’t anger the Shades. Be proud, but not too proud. Be angry, but not stupid. The sorts of helpful knowledge that anyone should know, but not everyone cared to believe.

The fact that a Shade put those tips into the air, though, would drive people to ignore such normal caution, which, Jane reflected, was probably part of the reason for putting those tips into the air at all.

The dungeon entrance itself was at the end of a black bridge, where crystalline doors had been ripped out of a solidly dark kendrithyst tower; the dungeon was open, but the lightorbs and lightsigns that had littered the way here, were not present inside of the dark tower. Shadows loomed inside. Someone was crying in there, but a slap shut them up.

A musical note escaped, but another slap, harder this time, quieted further noise.

Everyone noticed the inconsistencies, but what they mostly noticed was the object sitting in front of the dungeon.

A two-meter tall meat cake rested in front of the dungeon’s entrance, atop the black crystal road. The cake was two layers of meat and fur with white bone protruding here and there. The very dead monster had obviously not been a meat cake until maybe ten minutes ago. Parts of it were falling off of the whole, while Jane watched from her place at the back of Yetta’s party.

“What the FUCK is that supposed to be!” Basil yelled, holding knives in his hands, ready for almost anything, but he was clearly not ready for a meat cake. “Hell!”

Yetta asked, “Jane?”

Jane said, “75% chance the cake is really dead. I think Fallopolis has made a welcome out of a test."

“HelloOOoOO!” A dark, grandmotherly voice called out from the shadows, “WelcoOOme to my dungeoOOn!” Fallopolis made her appearance, slinking out from darkness behind the meat cake. “I have put on teEEa, for theEE, and a little shoOOw!”

She clapped.

The middle reaches for kilometers around flashed to light, and life. Pastel illusions of fluffy monsters bounded and played through the air. Pink shadowolves with overlong fangs clipped at each other, while purple shadowcats tore them apart with too-long tentacle-tails. It was a mockery of life and death, where nothing really died; the monsters just split into smaller monsters, who went careening around the middle reaches, playing and eating each other.

If Jane hadn't seen what Fallopolis had done to the umbral wyrm, this light show would have been an immaculate display of power and ability.

Behind Fallopolis, in the first room of her dungeon, light appeared, illuminating seven naked, bloody people, each with a musical instrument grafted in the place of their hands, or their mouth, or in place of arms or legs. Jane winced as they played completely out of tune; they were trying. Jane would make sure they got proper treatment as soon as Fallopolis finished whatever it was she was doing.

Yetta’s party rearranged, silently, tendrils of thought connecting all of them together.

Jane’s own tactical helpers back at the Command Center were silent; waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Only 4 seconds had passed since Fallopolis turned on the lights.

Yetta called out, “Release the hostages.”

Fallopolis ignored her, turning to Allan, saying, “Have teEEa with meEE, my little shadeliIIng.”

She gestured, and a grand set of tables and chairs and porcelain cups appeared atop the black crystal highway. Doilies and draperies covered the surface; a pile of cloth. A long-limbed shadeling servant appeared like a mockery of a butler, with a full bedsheet draped over one arm as he held a canteen of steaming water in the other.

All the while, horrible ‘music’ filled the air, as bloody, naked people, struggled to appease their jailer.

Allan said, “I have prior engagements; I cannot sup with yo—”

“He would love to!” Jane interrupted, “As soon as this dungeon is actually cleared and the people have been rescued. Things must be done in the proper order.”

Allan was probably glaring at Jane; she couldn’t tell through his facial armor. He stated, “I will not sup with a Shade.”

Fallopolis watched Jane’s interruption, obviously hopeful, but at Allan’s refusal, she announced, “Kill the hostages!”

Two shadelings appeared by the frantically playing hostages. ‘Musical’ notes turned worse, sounding like screaming children, as long dark arms sharpened into blades—

Jane said, “I won’t tell my father to come for tea if this is how you behave, Fallopolis. Allan obviously has prior engagements, but his spirit has been willing, so far.”

Fallopolis held her hand up; the bladed shadelings stilled. Discordant notes still filled the air, as people hyperventilated, or panicked; so very close to death. Fallopolis frowned.

“Release the hostages!” Fallopolis stared at Jane. “Take them and go. You have helped enough for one hour, Jane Flatt.” She frowned. “You speak so nicely, but try to keep that tongue from wagging too far out of your mouth. Someone might want to rip it out.”

Jane bowed, then stood straight as she walked across the dark highway, past a bewildered Yetta and Basil, past a relieved Dorthy, though it was hard to tell through her grey armor. Jane only guessed she was relieved because her stance was a little more solid; more focused on Fallopolis, and less on the hostages. Allan remained silent, though all five of them had tendrils of thought connecting them to each other.

Jane strode past Fallopolis’s tea set, past the Shade herself. She walked through the blood dripping out of the meat cake, purposefully striking a strong walk. She stepped into the dungeon. Fallopolis’s shadelings parted as Jane neared, melting back into the shadows to the sides of the stage supporting the seven hostages. As Jane neared the hostages, a wave of rancid smells assaulted her nose.

Jane would need to remind Yetta to not [Cleanse] near hostages. The Shades liked to grow cancers into important body parts; a [Cleanse] could kill someone if they didn’t immediately get a [Greater Treat Wounds]. These hostages here were certainly full of cancers, now that Jane was close enough to see them in all their horror. Wind instruments had been sewn directly into their faces. Alien biology had grafted drums onto their legs, and their stomachs. Arms had been turned into bones and strings. They did not look to be in as much pain as they should have been, but that was likely because they had organs grown into them that produced morphine, or something similar. A [Cleanse] would remove such organs, and likely kill them out of shock.

They stared at Jane like she was a savior.

Jane said, “I’m going to [Polymorph] into a shadowspider, with eight legs to teleport you all out of here, all at once. You’ve all been very strong to survive this long. Don’t panic; not now.”

Two of them started panicking, but they were adventurers cleared for Ar’Kendrithyst and they were probably drugged half out of their minds; they controlled their panic. Hopefully their torture had only been for the last few days. As they calmed, Jane nodded, dissolving her [Conjure Armor] clothing with a thought as she [Polymorph]ed into a shadowspider. The two panicked again, sending harsh notes scattering through the air, but they breathed strong, controlling themselves, their horrific musics tempering to something quieter.

Jane spoke with gravel in her voice. “We’ll be out of here, soon,” as she moved onto the tortured orchestra, carefully positioning one leg each, next to what remained of the hands of each person, saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just relax. Grab my legs, just like that, yes. Prepare to accept the [Teleport]. We’re getting out of here. Don’t cry yet, we’re almost done. Hold it together.”

And then, with seven hands each grabbing a leg, Jane yelled out, “Please allow us to go, Fallopolis.”

Fallopolis had been talking with Yetta’s people, but at Jane’s voice, she turned, and said, “You look so much better as a spider, Jane. You should just stay like that.” She lifted her hand, and the tiny itch that Jane recognized as a [Teleport Lock], vanished. “See you lat—”

Blip!

Jane, and seven horrifically mutated hostages, fell into a prepared room of the Interfaith Church, back in Spur.

She [Polymorph]ed back to her original body, conjuring armor around her self as she cut all telepathic conversation, as others took over the tragedy she had dumped in their waiting room. Dozens of nurses, and priests, and a few doctors, swarmed the flailing, crying, mutated people, and that was it; Jane was done, for now.

They asked a few questions and Jane answered, and when they were done with her, Jane rushed out of there, careening down a stone corridor, into the break room beside the command center. Tears were already streaming down her face, anger ripping at her heart. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and crushed her face into the softness, just so she could scream out the pain of being forced to treat with Shades, and maybe the pain would go away. She wanted to break the world; she wanted to kill every single monster.

Jane breathed hard, harder. She was hyperventilating, and she knew she was. Breathing into her pillow helped, so she breathed into fabric. Eventually, she calmed enough for the tears to come. When those dried up, and her mana was above a thousand, she got up.

She prepared herself to see many, many more sights like what she had just witnessed, before the day was done.

She [Cleanse]d herself. She redid her [Conjure Armor] into battle-ready perfection. The break room had been outfitted with tea and desserts and mana potions, but if she wanted actual food, she would have to have someone order it for her; she was busy. She couldn’t wait for real food, anyway. Jane stuffed her face with a stuffed donut, eating her feelings. She downed a mana potion, multiplying her mana regeneration by a significant amount for a short while. Then she made herself some tea.

She rested for five minutes, sipping tea, recovering mana, eating another donut. Then she left the breakroom and turned right, heading to the Command Center.

The Command Center was one stone archway down the grey stone hallway. Voices trickled out of the room beyond that archway; people talking to each other about what they were seeing, and assigning resources where they needed to go. Jane entered the room.

A dozen large panes of magic, some specialized form of [Scry], showed off Yetta’s party from multiple angles, while a map of Ar’Kendrithyst in the back of the room showed Yetta’s position inside the city. Yetta had moved on from Fallopolis. They were walking across the broken bridges of the middle layer, headed toward the next nearest Daydropper, which was actually away from the Garden; away from Planter.

Below all those [Scry] panels and maps, were people, all around the room; soldiers and tacticians, mages and warriors. The room should have been loud, but it was not; all the major tactical information was flowing through telepathic channels, with only larger, overview-centric information being relayed through voice. The people in this room were organizing the rest of the Army, and even some forces from Frontier and Kal’Duresh. Almost everyone outside of this room was still on standby, though; waiting for the signal to dive into a dungeon, to rescue whoever they could.

Jane listened for a moment. According to the conversation floating through the room, Yetta was planning on killing the door guardians. That was good. Jane had said there were 350 missing people, but the tacticians put the real number at a thousand, or more. The Army only expected to rescue 350 people, and that was the highest estimate. The actual number floating around was 'maybe a hundred.'

Taking it all in, and then judging it, Jane felt like the Command Center was just a larger version of Forward Base’s daily operations.

Killzone, like usual, stood in the back, a black wrought in the shape of an orcol, always holding multiple telepathic conversations at once, but not enough to actually hamper the man’s ability to be present in the situation. He had seen Jane, and was walking toward her.

He spoke softly, “Good job. It’s only been 30 minutes; if you go back in then you will face repercussions from Fallopolis.”

“Send me somewhere else before I go back to Yetta's party.”

Killzone smiled wide, as his telepathic connections changed. ‘Telepathic connections reestablished.’

A flood of voices narrowed to three inside Jane’s head, apprising her of the situation inside Ar’Kendrithyst. Yetta’s team just cleared the entrance guardian for dungeon #2. They were currently headed toward the next nearest dungeon, still headed away from Planter. Door Guardian #2 had been a trio of Primal Shadowolves; instantly dispatched by Allan’s magic, some sort of [Force Beam Disc]. The Champion and her team did not linger at all.

Killzone asked, “Do you need any mana potions?”

“Already taken, and already full.” Jane asked, “Do I need to be worried about Allan? Does he know that he’s under the Curse of the Shadeling, now?”

“We think he knows.” Killzone said, “Archmage Quel of the Tower isn’t talking. We'll let you know if this changes.”

Jane waited for orders.

Killzone nodded, then paused, then said, “Yetta’s people are not accepting telepathic communication, so you’re going to have to appear to them, after you go and help the team entering dungeon #2. You’ve got thirty minutes to kill, and a lot of monsters besides.”

“Yes, sir.”

Killzone sent her an image. “That’s your destination; the team is already on site. [Teleport Lock] is negative. Go.”

The large wrought was already talking to someone else as Jane nodded, accepting her mission.

She blipped away—

—directly into a firefight.

- - - -

Glowing sea foam green Bolt Shrooms crowded the entrance and tunnel of Dungeon #2, like villi inside intestines; they were not there four seconds ago, in the image Killzone had sent Jane. These sprouted, all at once, dense inside the dungeon, but even outside, on the crystalline surfaces all around this part of the middle reaches.

Green Decay [Force Bolts] fired from each one, aiming at Jane, and the four people tagged for this dungeon. But Kiri had thrown up a [Force Wall] in all directions just as fast as the Bolt Shrooms appeared, blocking the bolts before they could reach.

Jane only recognized Kiri; she didn’t know the other three people. Orangescale, human, and bluescale; those designations would have to do.

Only three seconds had passed since Jane [Teleported] in.

Kiri’s [Force Wall] was holding, easily, in fact. The air was filled with ten thousand Decay [Force Bolts], but they were like rain, and Kiri was a mountain.

Jane asked, “Why haven’t you cleared them, yet, Kiri?”

Only three seconds had passed; of course Kiri hadn’t cleared them. Jane just liked to give her a hard time.

Kiri frowned at Jane as she stuck her hand through an opening in the [Force Wall]. Flames flew, coating the kendrithyst, instantly popping one tiny shroom as the fire flowed across hundreds, each of them exploding in turn, spreading the blaze even further. Kiri moved to another hole in the [Force Wall]. More fire blasted out of Kiri’s hand, impacting large groves of the shrooms, clearing almost all of the immediate danger. The tunnel into the dungeon was still full of Bolt Shrooms, but Kiri knew not to risk throwing fire into there.

Kiri said, “Do your thing inside that tunnel. I won’t risk the hostages.”

Jane smiled, then ‘did her thing’. She conjured a shield, see through blue, and a sword, super thin, yet super strong; almost invisible. She had long ago learned something very miraculous about [Conjure Weapon]; it wasn’t a revelation, really, or even unique, but it was exactly the sort of realization that elevated Jane’s [Conjure Armor] into something stronger than plate. Everyone made weapons that were normal, weighty things, meant to toss monsters away just as much as they were meant to injure, but Force was stronger than any natural material. Force could make a super thin blade, able to cleave through even the toughest monster’s bones. Jane just had to move fast enough to get away from the severed body parts; momentum was still a deadly event.

Jane had learned a lot more than that, though.

A month ago, she would have relied on [Ultrasight] and [Perfect Hearing] to scout her surroundings, to see what was inside the tunnel before she leapt. But then she bought [Scent Tracker], to try and combine them all into [Tracker’s Instincts], which she heard from the veterans was so much better than the individual parts. When all of her combinations got her shit like [Heightened Senses], she just straight up bought [Tracker’s Instincts]. And then she bought the combination of [Swift Movement] and [Silent Movement]; [Lightfoot].

The combination of all of that, [Hunter’s Instincts], was an easy buy; a failed tier 3 spell took a week of recovery to try again. Jane didn’t have that much time to waste on failure. With a bit of experimenting and playing around with [Hunter’s Instincts], Jane bought Precision, too; the Strength-centric version of Clarity. Applying Favored Ability to [Hunter's Instincts] was a no-brainer.

Precision X

Reduces HP costs by 50%

Requirements: 10 Vitality

Hunter’s Instincts, 10 HP per second ~{Favored Ability}~

You are the predator.

Jane Flatt

Human, age: 22

Level 49, Class: None

Exp: 777,874,204,900/1,258,626,902,500

Class: -/-

Points: 4

HP

1493/1500

1500 per day

MP

2867/3000

1500 per day

Strength

25

+0

25

Vitality

25

+0

25

Willpower

50

+0

30

Focus

25

+0

25

Favored Spell waiting!

Favored Spell waiting!

Favored Ability waiting!

Favored Ability waiting!

Favored Ability waiting!

Turning on [Hunter’s Instincts] was like making the entire world make sense. She could see the ways monsters moved before they moved. She could feel the wind and understand there were monsters waiting around the corner. She could touch the stone and know every ambush lying in wait.

The effect was multiplied by ten when she was a spider. But she wasn’t a spider right now; she didn’t need it, because she saw everything inside that tunnel, and she knew she could handle it.

A blip of blue, and Jane stood in the throat of the dungeon. She activated two auras at once. Blue fire crashed out of her body, filling the tunnel, at the same time her [Cleanse Aura] kept the air clear of all toxins and smoke; the fresh oxygen of the transformative [Cleanse Aura] even ramped the fires of [Flaming Shrapnel Aura] up to eleven, while it kept the air easy to breathe. Hundreds of Bolt Shrooms had zero time to react to the new stimulus before they turned to ash, and that ash swept away on thick air.

Hidden snakes, hissing and fast, jumped out from the dying grove of Bolt Shrooms. Two were sliced apart instantly, as Jane’s [Hunter’s Instincts] revealed them well before they leapt. She gracefully slipped around another two, slicing them apart like one would draw a line through the air with a laser, holding her thin sword at exactly the right angle for maximum severance.

In moments, the tunnel was completely clear of threats, as debris and death turned into thick air. But beyond that tunnel, there was a very large threat, and because of the Bolt Shrooms and the vipers, Jane knew who this dungeon belonged to.

Jane cut her auras and stepped back from the tunnel.

A voice echoed in the hallway, “I demand you become a spider for the rest of this. They’re much prettier than you stupid bipeds.”

The voice belonged to Treant. He was likely some biped in the distant past, but he had transformed himself into a tree sometime far in the past, too.

Jane bowed to the darkness down the tunnel, and said, “Of course, Treant.”

She discarded her weapons and her armor with a thought, then became a spider. She remade her armor even before the blue mist in the air from her previous armor had had time to vanish back into the ambient mana.

“You’re so pretty like that.” Treant said, “This is enough, and I’m bored of your incursion. I’m sending up the hostages now. Be sure to taunt Yetta that she should have come down here herself. I was prepared to greatly help her kill Planter.” Treant shouted, “That man would better serve the world as a compost pile! Cultivating Daydroppers! The nerve. The squirrels and the birds and the toads are perfectly acceptable meat sacks!”

Command Center whispered in Jane's mind that the Daydroppers in Fallopolis' and Treant's dungeons were now gone.

Spider-Jane lifted up on her eight legs, playing to her strengths when it came to Treant, displaying her eight-legged body, and took a bow, saying, “I will tell them this, if you agree to give Yetta some true assistance in killing Planter. Perhaps some lesser boon?”

“… Sure.”

Jane hated to bargain for such a thing; Treant’s gifts were horrific things, but there’s no way that Treant wouldn’t interfere in the fight with Planter anyway. Her words had been personally chosen by Killzone, though, so maybe they were the right words.

Jane watched the tunnel ahead of her, with all eight of her eyes. The darkness was non-existent to her in this form, so she saw the unfortunate hostages well before they entered the light. They were corded through with fungi and dripping poison. They shambled. They made no noise.

The hostages were all dead.

The fungi inside of them was controlling their bodies; there was no magic where their brains were, like there was in any living person. Knowing this trap before she sprung it on the people back at the Command Center was one of the many reasons Jane had this job.

But she betrayed nothing of this knowledge, either through her words or her posture. As the hostages silently took their positions around Jane, each of the five taking hold of a leg, Jane pretended, “Don’t worry. You’re safe now. Here we go.”

She teleported the hostages into a clean room, nowhere near the Command Center, then teleported herself to another clean room, where she dismissed her armor and [Polymorph]ed into a flame slime.

Jane was fire and air, flickering and insubstantial, barely able to see her surroundings with a slime's primitive Mana Sight. With [Ultrasight], though, she was able to turn an impression of the world into something workable; she was in an insulated, stone room. Liquid had gotten this slime for Jane a week ago, in preparation for what she was doing right now: when dealing with Shades like Treant and Planter, it was necessary for Jane to be able to immolate herself, ridding her body of all the spores and parasites and other living things some Shades liked to inflict upon others, like the ones that had transformed Treant’s hostages into hosts.

Eating the slime’s core was not pleasant; it was on fire. But Jane had healers nearby for the experience, and she gained the first step on a long, long road to [Fire Body].

Flame Touch, touch, 1 MP

Burn a tiny part of your surroundings.

After getting the flame slime, and seeing the road to [Fire Body] lying ahead of her, Jane ramped up her acquisition of Shadow Essences for [Shadowalk]. She was still a few hundred short of that goal, but Jane was nothing if not persistent.

It took her days of uncomfortable, persistent eating, but two days ago, weeks after joining the Army, Jane finally finished consuming all the Shadow essences needed for [Shadowblend] to transform into [Shadowalk]. If she ever slurped the insides out of a shadowolf ever again, it would only be for pure survival purposes.

Shadowalk, instant, close range, 5 MP per second + Variable

You are the night.

In the clean room, Jane turned on [Flaming Shrapnel Aura], burning everything around her, as she burned in her flame slime body; the room had been built expecting this kind of abuse. Jane felt the parasites inside of her ignite, as they whined, as they popped and flickered to ash, as they leapt from her slime into the rest of the room. That would not do. She turned on [Cleanse Aura] and the flames around her burned blue; twice as strong as before. Jane waited. When she was sure she was clean and the people watching gave her an 'all clear', she turned off her flame aura, leaving [Cleanse Aura] active for just a bit longer. She plopped and rolled down the room. Someone opened a wall, and she slipped through. The wall closed behind her.

She waited.

“All clear,” came a voice, like hearing someone underwater.

Jane [Polymorph]ed back into a person, conjuring her woven armor back onto her body, clipping her hair back up behind her head. She was standing in a room with a doctor and a priest, both of them behind a [Temperature Ward].

The doctor, wearing the white vest of his office, said, “None of the rescues were salvageable, but private Kiri and her people came back clean. You’re clean too, according to our scans.”

The priest, wearing the white robe of her office, said, “We’re not sure if the Champion and her people are in danger; the Bolt Shrooms didn’t appear until after they killed the Door Guardian. You will need to warn them.”

Jane nodded, saying, “Thank you for your hard work.”

Jane went back to the break room. She grabbed another mana potion and downed it, along with another two donuts. She needed one more level; she needed Polymage. If she had that, she would be able to use all of her monster abilities in all of her forms. That meant the [Eyes of Magic] of the shadowspider would always be available, at all times. But that was a mission for another day.

She refocused on the current mission.

And then she went to the Command Center.

When Jane rounded the corner, Liquid intercepted her with a little bag.

The grey metal dragonkin wrought said, “Take some of your father’s rings. The Champion ran into a cursed dungeon. Animated objects. They already burned through their first sets of rings. Since the three people we know who have [Fire Body] are not available, there will be no rescue on dungeon #4.”

Jane took the bag, slipping it into a pocket of her [Conjure Armor]. Liquid sent Jane an image of Yetta’s current location on a black bridge, and then sent another image several hundred meters away; Jane’s [Teleport] target.

Liquid said, “Go.”

Jane went.

- - - -

A blip of blue put Jane on a ragged, broken facet of a dark tower, in the lower middle reaches of Ar’Kendrithyst. A foot slipped, dislodging stone, but she quickly regained stability. Shards of kendrithyst crystal still clipped down the side of the tower, setting off a ringing, tinkling echo into the shadowy darkness all around.

Jane went still, waiting for the darkness to make a move.

The darkness seemed somewhat shy.

Jane almost became a spider, just so she could get a better look at her surroundings, but she was running [Hunter’s Instincts] right now, and that, alongside her own developing instincts, told her that becoming a spider right now would be a very bad idea. Yetta and her people were nearby, and they shunned all communication with anyone outside of their own party; if they saw a spider hanging around, for any reason at all, they would try to murder it with everything they had. Jane would have to do this as a human.

Jane decided: in for a penny, in for a pound.

She threw a bright [Special Ward], a twenty meter long fluorescent bulb turned up to spotlight bright white levels, down into the canyon of the middle reaches. She [Shadowalk]ed into the stone at her back, well before the fireworks could begin.

And begin they did.

Shadelings waited in ambush. They lifted out of the kendrithyst like bobbit worms sticking up from the sea floor, all around, on every tower, atop every bridge. Red fire and blue lightning crashed into where Jane had been standing, but she was already moving, [Shadowalk]ing, keeping to the very top surface layer of the kendrithyst tower, flowing down, from one bridge to the next. She reached the first set of three shadelings and conjured her sword to slash through all three skulls. Jane moved like a dancing assassin.

The shadelings were mindless; they had accepted someone’s command to kill whoever entered this territory, and Jane qualified. She chopped heads off of shoulders, dodging deadly magic, flowing into the dark crystal at her feet as needed, in and out again, [Shadowalk]ing from one side of the canyon to the other. Taking heads and leaving the bodies behind, [Hunter’s Instincts] guiding Jane’s actions. Sword and intent and every instinct Jane had, began to flow together, playing a song of surgical destruction alongside the thrumming beat of her heart.

In two minutes, the ambush was cleared; that’s when another ambush came.

A buzzsaw of Force crashed through where Jane was going to be, if she had not noticed the attack, if three of her handlers had not reinforced what she was sensing, four seconds before it happened.

Jane, for her part, merely let the buzzsaw pass by, then she flowed into the crystal at her feet and backed up, as a second Force buzzsaw, invisible this time and unnoticed by her handlers, zipped through where she had been standing. The invisible buzzsaw clipped through the crystal, her handlers going silent for a brief moment, then profusely sorry for having missed the invisible spell. Jane sent back feelings of brushing it all off; she was much too focused on her surroundings to take or give offense at a missed attack. Dodging and weaving and living on the battlefield was why she was out here, anyway. It was her job to see what other people could not.

Jane lifted from the dark bridge, like some magnanimous princess shedding robes made of shadow.

Yetta, Allan, Cyril, Basil, and Dorthy, were a hundred meters down the dark bridge.

Jane’s massive tube light illuminated every dark and shadowy thing for kilometers, like someone had brought the sun down into the lower layers of the Dead City, revealing that the crystals down here were full of ever-twisting darkness.

Yetta and her group walked toward Jane, as Yetta said, “Welcome back.”

Jane bowed, quick and done. “Thank you for clearing the Door Guardians. I’m being told that nineteen people have been rescued, so far.”

Basil demanded, “How the fuck did you manage to get a shadowspider! I’ve been looking for one this entire time!”

“A lot of luck. A lot of help. A bit of skill.” Jane asked, “Would you prefer I guide you as a spider?”

Yetta shook her head. “Then they’d send spiders after us, and we wouldn’t know which you were.”

“Well then she has to guide us as a spider, Yetta! I want one.” Basil turned to Jane. “Spider form, yes.”

Jane looked to Yetta. Their whole group stopped ten meters away from Jane. Jane was comfortable in all of her forms, but being a spider down here was a really, really good idea, if Allan could lay off of trying to murder her.

Yetta frowned, then said, “Spider form, then.”

“Yess!” Basil laughed. “I’m gonna get me one of those fuckers!”

“As you wish.” Jane nodded, saying, “And— One of the shadelings dropped these.”

Jane pulled out the ring pouch Liquid had given her. She lobbed it, underhanded, toward Yetta’s group. The ring pouch caught in midair, slowly descending toward Allan. He telekinetically opened the pouch when it came close enough. Several silver-diamond rings floated into the air.

Small laughter echoed through the otherwise silent city, originating from several of the dozens of [Scry] orbs hanging around Yetta. Smaller voices spoke of quest givers giving help in the middle of the quest. Some complained of too much help, too soon. Most of them were silent; watching.

Allan and Dorthy each took a ring. When they put them on, Jane saw the diamond rings smoke and sizzle, along with a bracelet wrapped around Dorthy’s left gauntlet, and a belt wrapped around Allan’s right leg. The belt and the bracelet turned to ash, while the silver diamond rings held steady.

Dorthy said, “Most appreciated.”

Jane nodded as she ditched her armor, [Polymorph]ed into her spider form, and coalesced her blue armor again, practically all at once.

Several shady voices gave small approvals.

Basil said, "Don't shoot the spider with the armor! That's easy enough to do." Basil nudged Allan. "Right, Allan?"

Allan said nothing.

Yetta nodded, then pointed down to a lower layer, practically in the Underworld. “The next one is there.”

To Jane’s [Eyes of Magic], the glow of the Dead City around her was like looking at a parade of lights, but down there, in the deep, actual darkness, there was no light. Jane knew who made the next dungeon, and she was worried.

She attempted to telepathically link to Yetta, but was rebuffed for a hundred damage.

Yetta glared at Jane.

Jane chose her next words carefully. “That dungeon number 2? That one was created by Treant, and though he left you with gifts, he would have given you a lot more if you had cleared his dungeon.”

Yetta threw a telepathic connection at Jane. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

Jane sent all the most pertinent information as quickly as she could, ‘I said that to fulfill a promise to the Shade known as Treant to tell you about missing out on loot. You need to check yourselves for parasites. Treant is going to help kill Planter and you might not like his help. And the next dungeon is made of antirh—’

The crystal all around Jane and Yetta, vibrated. Damage ticked as Shades began to boo.

“We want banter!” “Too much [Telepathy]!” “Spider’s good, tho.”

Jane cut her connection with Yetta, saying, “Gotta give the audience what they want.” She pointed toward the next dungeon with one long, spidery leg, saying, “That’s going to be a dark time.”

“I love these little clues,” whispered a Shade.

Another Shade whispered, "She's quite good at this."

Yetta said, “Lead the way, then, guide,” as she sent some messages around her team.

Allan and Cyril began casting some sort of healing magics, and a few ‘tsk!’s echoed from a few [Scry] eyes.

Jane grabbed the edge of the dark bridge and set down thread, before she slipped off of the crystal highway, falling down into the illuminated depths, headed toward the darkness. When she touched the bridge below, she anchored her thread and moved aside. Dorthy came smashing down, one hand on the thread, two feet crashing into the bridge, giggling the whole way.

“This is better.” Dorthy looked up to see Allan and the other three descending on a [Force Platform]. Dorthy turned to Jane, saying, “Traveling like that makes me sick.”

Jane normally wouldn’t have noticed, but with eight eyes and [Hunter’s Instincts], she saw through the slits of Dorthy’s armor. Dorthy had winked at her.

Dorthy was playing the game, and she might have always been playing; misdirecting the Shades as much as she could. Maybe they all were? Well... Of course they were? Jane wasn’t so sure.

Jane would have smiled, but with the fangs that was a bit tough, so she just nodded her whole three-meter body, and began to lead the way, down the dark bridges of Ar’Kendrithyst, under the watchful eyes of every single Shade of the Dead city, further and further down, to where the lights of the Dead City died.

Hopefully, the Army’s part in all this was going as well as Jane’s.

By the time this was over, the Army would have a good lead on Bulgan, more information on every Shade, and at least one enemy of Spur would be dead; Planter had overstepped himself in the eyes of his people. Even if Yetta failed, if she only managed to weaken Planter, the other Shades would rush to kill him, hoping to qualify for the 10 ability points reward of the Kill and Exterminate Quest.

That was the rumor, anyway.

Now… If it were possible for Shades to complete that Quest? Jane had no idea.

Killzone and Silverite seemed to think they could.

- - - -

As Jane walked down a broken crystal bridge and touched down onto dirt of the Underworld, where parts of the city were completely dark and there was no crystal, she wondered if her father had left for his wyrm hunt, yet.

A quick check in with Command informed Jane that, yes, Erick, Poi, Rats, and Teressa, had all left for the extreme northern reaches of the Crystal Forest an hour ago. They would likely be gone for several days.

Jane silently wished him luck, as she guided the Champion and her people deeper into the darkness.