Chapter 48

The stampede was an endless outpour of monsters, coming from the far end of the tunnel and boxing Michael and his team in with no means to escape. The tunnel leading to the king’s chamber had been a long and winding thing with no side exits, and now that the monsters were coming from behind, the only way they could go was back in the maw of the icy monster that was the king.

However, this time it would be even worse. They would have countless monsters at their heel, pouring into the chamber from behind while the king crushed them from the front. Michael thought furiously, but he couldn’t come up with a solution that wouldn’t involve some sacrifice. Or one that wasn’t suicide, for that matter.

That’s when the golem decided to take matters into its own stony hands. It stood up, tall and proud despite the many cracks that made up its crumbling façade and faced the incoming horde.

“Kill the king,” it declared, surprising Michael who had thought that the stone construct could not speak at all. Then the golem’s head turned around, a red light shining where its eyes would be, power radiating off of it. “Go.”

That was all that it said before it threw itself into the melee, several times stronger than it had ever been.

“That’s how we Fae grow stronger: battle, hardship and struggle.” Drullkrin said, as if inspired and emboldened by his fellow monster’s sacrifice.

“I can respect that,” Michael said, eyes hardening. “Let’s not waste this opportunity.”

With the golem holding the horde off for as long as it could, the rest of the team rushed back towards the king’s chamber. A somber mood overtook them as they marched into the hardest fight yet, knowing full well that if they didn’t win, not only would the golem die in vain, but they would also die deep beneath the ice.

And so they threw themselves at the king, who was alone and surprised to see them emerge from the tunnel with one less member of the team but no monsters at their heels. They made use of this distraction to assault the ice giant, viciously fighting however they could. The wingless fox rode the chimera, the two attacking in unison with perfect coordination. Drullkrin darted in and out of the fight, aiming to destroy the king’s balance while it attacked, creating openings so that the heavier chimera could attack.

All the while, Michael was everywhere, pushing his skills to the limit. His face was covered in blood oozing from his mouth, nose and eyes as his body strengthening skill destroyed his body from within. He powered through, healing himself as the damage accumulated, but soon he discovered that wherever the king hit him, it was harder to heal as the energy lingered.

He pushed his skill, however, forcing it to heal him and the others even though the ice was like poison. He felt the fractal that made up the magic skill begin to light up, filling with energy, but he knew that the skill wanted to evolve in a direction he didn’t like.

The problem was its abysmal range. And so, he seized the skill with force and commanded it to expand. He already knew how to do it—he had almost done it once already—and so the skill responded. As more and more of the fractal lit up, Michael kept struggling to expand its range so that it could heal his allies even as they fought far away.

It clicked into place suddenly, and an outpour of healing energy washed over the team like soothing rain, refreshing their bodies and starting to cleanse their injuries from the corrupting influence of the ice. Thanks to the new range of the skill, all members of the team were being slowly healed. The attackers had been losing steam, while the king seemed tireless, but now that the wounds that the team had accumulated were closing they once again fought with chaotic fury.

Michael too fought hard, snarling like a man-beast with hands clad in fire, feeling like he was back in the first room of the dungeon armed with nothing but a torch and a nebulous grasp of a martial art he thought useless. Something seemed to awake in him at that thought, but it wasn’t enough to break through and his mind was too scattered to notice, and so he kept fighting even though one of the spikes pierced his distortion bubble and penetrated his side, spreading terrible ice through his body. His flame burned, and he touched the wound with his hands, scorching his own skin to draw out the cold energies, roaring in pain.

The chimera was the next to fall, then the wingless fox. They had fought valiantly, but valor had not been enough when faced with the might of the ice king.

Michael felt sorry for them, but he didn’t have time to actually process what was happening.

Now it was only Drullkrin and him, and the goblin was missing an arm and eye, with a nasty wound on his head. Michael was not much better, limping around, but the king too had suffered tremendous damage. There were cracks on its body, and with one last attack, the energy holding it together failed, and the ice shattered.

Michael did not have time to celebrate. A wet cough coming from where the goblin stood made him turn around, only to see the green man collapsed on the ground, holding a thick spike jutting out of his stomach.

“We… fought… well,” said the goblin. Michael had rushed over to him, but the ice was making healing impossible, and the damage was too severe. Then the goblin’s eyes widened, and with its dying breath he pointed at the tunnel and yelled: “Sire!”

Michael saw the goblin draw his last breath, the life fading from his eyes. Then the sound of scraping metal assaulted Michael’s ears, and from the entrance tunnel he saw not the golem nor the stampede of monsters, but hundreds of soldiers in full plate armor pouring into the room, their skin blue and their limber bodies two full feet taller than he was, armed to the teeth with spears, and swords and shields, all of which were leveled at him.

***

Some time earlier.

“Just where is that damn coal mine? There’s nothing around here,” the bureaucrat said.

Timothe Shellin had been waddling around the forest for hours, with shoes that were woefully unfit for the task, as well as a body that ran out of breath faster than he could have ever thought possible. Perhaps a life sitting behind a desk had not been kind to him, but then again the bureaucrat always thought the on-field surveys were cardio enough to keep him fit.

Perhaps he had been wrong. Or perhaps it was because he had been sent to a remote piece of land on the Appalachian mountains, of all places. Not your average survey site, that’s for sure. Rather, it was an average survey site but not one he usually took. And to think that he had received clear instructions that this routine check was anything but routine.

There had been money. All he had to do was pretend to do the survey, a necessary step before the EPA authorized the land to be sold for requalification. The paperwork was ready, the right hands had been greased, and all was right in the world.

But Timothe would be damned if he didn’t at least do a routine check. Money or no money. He had moral integrity, after all. Perhaps moral integrity was all that was left to his person after his wife had left him for that… person.

He shook his head before the image of his kids could pop up uninvited. It had been a year since he last saw his son and daughter, and the wound in his heart had not closed at all. It still stung like the first day. That the bitch of a woman managed to convince the court that he—

No. Focus on the task. Find the coal mine, inspect it, find the dangerous materials and compile the report. Then go home, where the sweet, sweet alcohol was waiting for him.

It should be around… here.

But there was no coal mine. Nothing. Just a dark cave, surrounded by luscious plants that swayed in the wind. Eerie. Strange. There was an air to it, like static electricity making his hair stand up before a storm. There was no storm, the sky was clear, but the sensation was the same. It was enticing. Like it was asking him to enter.

Perhaps that’s the entrance to the tunnel?

Thus, Timothe entered the cave. He reemerged exactly ten minutes later, traumatized. And very much changed.

Timothe skipped the next day at work. He remained at home, drinking himself into a stupor until all that was left of his experience was a hazy memory that he could easily attribute to alcohol-induced hallucinations. Did alcohol even induce hallucinations? He didn’t know, and right now he did not care. The power of alcohol.

Then a knock on the door distracted him from the pure bliss of booze, and thoughts of moral integrity came back rushing. He opened the door in his disheveled state, not bothering to check who was on the other side because, he thought, who the fuck would even care?

Very wrong. Someone did care.

Carmela Esposito was there, and she wasn’t alone. There was a young, skippy man with her. He was a bit viscid, Timothe thought, nervous eyes that darted everywhere. He felt dangerous as well, as if he was one moment away from exploding.

The man punched Timothe in the face. Before the pain could make it thought the curtains of alcohol inhibiting his nerve functions, the bureaucrat found himself bound on a chair.

But wait, he thought triumphantly, remembering the one moment of blazing glory in his grey life, I have magic now!

He tried to summon his power. It had been granted to him as a means to survive the grueling experience that had been the cave he had entered the day before, and even more magic had been given to him as a reward. How he survived, he didn’t know. All he knew was that there had been a tome on the floor, and that the tome had given him the means to get out alive.

However, no matter how much he tried to call upon this wondrous power, it didn’t respond to him. It had been the same last night, when he had returned home. That’s why he had chosen to drink so much, to drown the sensation of emptiness with booze.

Too bad he had mistaken the sensation of being out of mana with the sadness for his own sorry life. One does not recuperate mana by drinking, but Timothe didn’t know that.

Seeing his distress, the woman snickered at him while the young man looked even more nervous.

She was waving a plastic bag with some sort of coins inside of it. It took a moment for Timothe to recognize what they were, but when he did, he started salivating.

“No mana?” she giggled. “I don’t even need to threaten your family! Molto bene, mi rendi il lavoro più facile. It sucks to be left on empty after all, doesn’t it? Let’s talk, shall we?”