Rune Seeker

As it turned out, it took Nivian’s party twenty-nine minutes to clear the dungeon the second time, including The Fourth Crusade. After some congratulations, they all moved up to the fourth floor of the Ascender’s Tower – with six groups of Bonders in tow. There was a bit of surprise when they didn’t immediately rush in to challenge the High-B-Rank dungeon, but Seena and Nivian both wanted to make sure their parties were in top shape, with nothing on cooldown.

Instead, they sat down, pulled out Nivian’s trusty stew pot, and talked about what little they knew about the coming dungeon run.

It wasn’t much.

“Like I said before,” Romin said, “We’ll start with a group of researchers who claim they need us to escort them through the ruins. They don’t say much other than that, and even if we stay near the start of the dungeon, they will eventually run off and die. As soon as they fall, the dungeon ends, and we’re kicked out.”

“Wonder what Dr. Benza was doing there?” Seena asked.

Romin could only shrug.

“What kind of monsters are in there?” Hiral asked.

“We’ve only seen one type,” Romin said. “Not me, personally, but other who’ve attempted the dungeon. They’re described as a metal monstrosity, made of brass, with red eyes and steam jetting from the joints.”

At the description, Hiral, Seena, Seeyela, Yanily, Nivian, and Wule all shared a look.

“The display from the museum in the undead city,” Hiral agreed. “Li’l Ur, do you know anything about them?”

The little lich shook his head. “I didn’t pay much attention to that place. Creepy architecture.”

That got a look from everybody present.

“You thought it was a creepy? You, the undead lich?” Seeyela asked.

“Why is that so strange?” Li’l Ur asked. “Creepy is creepy. I most certainly still have a spine for shivers to run up. And, I will have you know, I’m a very sensitive, reformed, legendary evil.”

“Then why did your ex-wife seal you in a pot?” Right probed.

“It wasn’t a pot! You make it sound like she put me in a frying pan. It was an urn. A very fancy one, I might add. Would look great on a mantle…” the lich trailed off.

“Interior decorations aside,” Seena said. “Metal men sound like constructs.”

“That could be… annoying,” Hiral said. When Nivian and Wule looked at him with a question on their faces, he explained. “I don’t think we can get critical hits on constructs. At least, we didn’t get many – any? – in the last dungeon we did where we fought them.

“We have a lot of bonuses to getting crits – and bonus damage when we do get them – so it’ll hurt our overall damage a lot.”

“My Aura of the Void-Venom Empress will let us crit,” Seeyela reminded them. “But, when it’s on cooldown?” She shook her head and shrugged at that.

“Hrm,” Wule shared a look with Nivian. “I think maybe Bash has some abilities like that, but the rest of us should be fine. Oooooh, Politet might have a tough time. I wonder if his poisons work on constructs? Do they breathe?”

“Do undead?” Seeyela asked.

“No…” Wule said, then nodded in understanding. Politet had survived the culling chaos in the undead city long enough to meet up with Nivian and Wule. Which meant, he’d killed plenty of undead on his own. He’d have some tricks up his sleeves.

“I think you mentioned before there were a pair of these things?” Seena asked.

“Yes,” Romin said. “Reports from the parties that tried the dungeon said the defenders lived up to their High-B-Rank status. We should expect a difficult fight.”

Seena tapped her knee with one finger while she held a bowl of stew in the other hand – her bulky gauntlets in her Interspatial Ring for once. “Since nobody has made it past the first defenders, we have no idea how long the dungeon is, or what sort of other challenges we’ll have to face.”

“Makes it harder to pace ourselves,” Nivian said.

“The safe room gives us an out, if we need it,” Seena said.

“You think we will?” Seeyela asked. “It’s only B-Rank, and not even a lost dungeon.”

“High-B-Rank,” she reminded her sister. “But, no, I’m thinking we won’t need the safe room. We’re still going to be careful, though. No taking any fights lightly. If we need to use cooldowns, we will.”

“Fine by me,” Seeyela said, and the others agreed.

“Okay,” Seena said. “Let’s finish our meals, then it’s time to go see Dr. Benza again.”

“I wonder how old he is in this one,” Right said.

“Or why he’s in these ruins?” Hiral asked. “Looking for something to help build the PIMP, like the Urn of Ur’Thul?”

“Could be the Squalians gave him some kind of hint,” Left offered. “Since they had some of these brass constructs in their museum.”

“Either way, we’re going to find out pretty soon,” Hiral said, more than a little intrigued at what Dr. Benza could be looking for. Even though this wasn’t a lost dungeon, it sounded like it had the potential to be more than just an experience-farm.

Not that he’d object to that either. The three runs in the C-Rank dungeon had been good, but they were still a long way off from reaching A-Rank themselves. If this dungeon didn’t prove too difficult, running through it three times before they had to get to the raid zone would be great. Also, given that the dungeon was High-B-Rank while they were only Mid-B-Rank, Aim High should work. Just to double check the wording on it, Hiral opened the ability to reread it.

Party Interface: Aim High – Allows all party members to ignore up to 1 Rank of Rank disparity.

Note: Party Interface: Aim High can be resisted by adequately powerful opponents.

Hiral had taken that to mean the Rank disparity between something like B-Rank and A-Rank, but maybe it’d also help out with the differences between low, mid, and high? As usual, only one way to find out.

He supressed the chuckle threatening to form, and closed the window while he looked at the others around the stew pot. Nivian had his apron on while he happily ladled second – and third – helpings out to the groups, Bonders included. Somehow, against all logic, his pot had more than enough stew in it to feed eight full groups, along with all the companions the Bonders had with them.

A quick glance with his improved senses confirmed to Hiral there were some interspatial shenanigans going on with the pot. Did he actually get a pot as a dungeon reward? Then again, knowing Nivian, I’m sure he would’ve been thrilled by that.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

And I sure can’t complain. Another spoon of the stew reminded Hiral just how much he’d missed it – and the man who made it. Separate parties or not, it was good to have the twins back. Kind of like getting Yanily back during their fight with Fitch, it felt like more of a win than most of their battles did.

Wule, next to his twin, had calmed down significantly after his small rant at how strong Seena’s party had gotten. Unfairly so, he’d grumbled. But, Hiral saw it. Saw how relieved Wule was the others were as powerful as they were. They all knew the healer had his own party to look out for now, and much like Nivian, it was a load off his shoulders he didn’t need to worry about the others.

The twins looked genuinely relaxed, talking and laughing with their own party and Seena’s. Politet mainly kept to himself – and gave off a bit of a Fitch-vibe, except to everybody, not just Hiral – though the others happily ate and talked.

While the undead didn’t need to eat – at least not in the same way the Breathers did – they still enjoyed the process. Their bodies would naturally break down anything they consumed, the blue flames that made up their PIMs harvesting any latent solar energy in the food, and they’d all also gotten the Gourmand ability, leading to food buffs.

Everyone was just having a good time. Except for one person.

Yanily.

The man had been quiet since they’d left The Plateau of Four Valleys the last time, and he sat staring into his bowl of stew. Even his spoon had paused midway to his mouth, like he’d forgotten about it.

A glance in Seena’s direction told Hiral she had noticed it as well, and he gave her a subtle nod to say he’d check up on the guy. So, with his stew-bowl in hand, Hiral walked over and sat down beside the spearman.

“You okay, Yan?” Hiral asked quietly without looking over.

“Hrm?” Yanily asked after a second, like he’d heard Hiral, but it had taken him time to process the words and make sense of them. “Oh, yeah. Fine.”

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Hiral prompted. “You’ve helped me through things more than once. If I can return the favor…”

Yanily let out a sigh in reply, dropping his spoon into the bowl and then putting it on the ground between his feet. Almost absently, his now-empty hand went to the spear lying on the floor beside him, and his fingers ran slowly along the shaft.

“I’m close to my next advanced class,” he said, though he didn’t seem excited.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hiral said.

“It’s not,” Yanily said. “It’s just I’m so close after that last fight with The Fourth Crusade, but there’s something missing. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue – you know, like a word I forgot – and no matter how much I try, I can’t figure it out. Worse, I feel like I’m losing touch with the inspiration I found in the fight.

“If I don’t figure it out soon, I’m going to lose it completely.”

Hiral nodded and took a spoonful of stew before he answered. If there was one thing he’d learned about his time with Yanily, it was that the man was a natural when it came to advancing himself. If he had a feeling, Hiral – and everybody else – would be smart to take it as fact. And, since they’d used all three of their attempts at the C-Rank dungeon, going back in there wasn’t an option.

Then again, would it even need to be? Yan sounded like he’d gotten the inspiration he needed from the fight already, so it had to be something else.

Acting on instinct, Hiral reached out with his senses to the concept emanating from Yanily, and found it solid around the spearman. It wasn’t quite up to the level of Nivian’s “I protect”, but it was damn close. Like Yanily had said, it was as if one small part was missing. More than that, Hiral felt a blossoming connection forming, and he added a touch of his rune to the mix.

Almost immediately, a thick cord of potential energy ran from the center of Yanily’s chest off to… nothing. It just stopped a few feet in front of the man, and the more Hiral looked at it, the more he doubted his own senses. It wasn’t there.

Yet.

Dreaming and both of his time runes entered the mix, and suddenly it made sense. He really was close to an advanced class. So close, in fact, it was like the path between Yanily and the PIMP had already formed, just waiting for that last nudge to push him over the edge.

The only question was – What was that last nudge?

Expanding his senses, Hiral looked for other strands of new connections. Predictably, one went down the stairs. Through his sensory domain, he tracked it to the air hanging beside the dungeon interface – right where the dungeon portal would form. That had to be the inspiration Yanily talked about. And, it wasn’t Hiral’s imagination, but that thread was already fraying.

Another application of Dreamingand Increase reinforced it somewhat, but it wasn’t a long-term fix. No, they needed to figure out what Yanily was missing. Moving on from the connection to the dungeon, Hiral looked for the next thread, and almost slapped his forehead he hadn’t checked it first. Of course, the strongest connection led right to Yanily’s spear – the Splinter of the Storm.

Any advanced class for Yanily would involve his weapon. It was practically his identity. At that thought, Hiral frowned. That wasn’t entirely true. If it was, Yanily would’ve figured out his concept – his ideal for himself – already. The spear was clearly part of it, but it wasn’t everything.

What else could there be though…?

Hiral got his answer as he found the next thread, and this time he did gently slap his own forehead for not figuring it out.

“Romin,” he asked. “Is there a roof to this tower we can get to?”

“Hrm?” the Bonder asked at the sudden and random question. “A roof? Yes? There are stairs up from the sixth floor – where the S-Rank dungeon is. Why?”

“I’ll explain later,” Hiral said, carefully putting his bowl down. “Let’s go, Yan.” Then, before the spearman – or anybody else – could question it, Hiral grabbed the man with the energy scarves of his pseudo-aspect, and dashed up the stairs. Moving so fast he was on the roof before the others even realized they were gone, he looked straight up.

Like the city of the Hanging Garden – and the rest of the maze around it – arches of stone criss-crossed in a thatch-like pattern above. Glowing roots and plants wrapped around the stones and hung below, giving the entire place its name. And, up through it all?

The loose thread of connection leading from Yanily.

“What are we doing?” Yanily asked, though his head was tilted back as he stared upward as well, spear in his hands.

“Do you trust me, Yan?” Hiral said instead of answering the question.

Yanily’s head turned to Hiral as their eyes met. “You know I do.”

“Then let’s get you that advanced class.”

With that statement, Hiral launched upward on a burst of Rejection so powerful, the building below him must’ve trembled from the liftoff. Gravity lowered the weight of both men as Hiral carried Yanily at breakneck speeds towards the arching stones.

Ballooning out ahead of him, his sensory domain weaseled into the spaces between the arches, and Hiral changed direction on small bursts of Rejection. Back and forth, runes flaring and vanishing, Hiral whipped himself and Yanily through the spaces until finally the night sky opened ahead, the rain greeting them.

Nestled in the grip of his scarves, Hiral felt Yanily let out a sigh of relief, like he didn’t even know he’d been missing something. The rain ran down and across the spearman’s face as he tilted his head back again and closed his eyes.

“Do you feel any Enemies?” Hiral asked. “Or, their storm, I guess?”

“No,” Yanily said. “This is clean. The nearest dirty storm is miles away. For now.”

“Then we have time,” Hiral said, looking straight up at the heavy clouds. Rain poured down on them, while lightning arced between the clouds. Something about it didn’t exactly feel welcoming, but that was where they needed to go. Where Yanily needed to go.

So, it was where Hiral would take him.

Another burst of Rejection shot them into the sky, more Rejection forming a wedge tipped with Separation to cut through the rain and wind. Up and up and up they went, lightning flashing ahead. And, it wasn’t Hiral’s imagination – the closer they got, the more the storm raged.

Halfway there, the sky was nearly a torrent of constantly flashing bolts. Thunder rumbled like drums, growing deeper with every step of Rejection Hiral used. The air around him grew charged, small arcs of electricity running along his arms and hands. It wasn’t painful or damaging – yet – but it was clearly building. If he kept going…

“This is far enough for you,” Yanily said over the party chat. “Can you, I don’t know, throw me the rest of the way?”

“Throwing is more of a Right-thing,” Hiral said, slowing down and bringing Yanily up beside him in the scarf. “But, I think I can figure something out.”

The spearman looked over at him as the upward momentum slowed. “That sounds a lot like you’re planning to test something.”

“What if it is?” Hiral asked innocently.

Yanily smiled. “Then what are you waiting for? Can you hear it too? The Chord of the Primal Storm. It’s up there. Calling to me.”

“I can’t,” Hiral said honestly. In fact, hearing anything over the booming thunder was nearly impossible, only the Party Interface getting Yanily’s words to him. “Let’s not keep it waiting.”

Reaching into himself, Hiral focused on the connection between Yanily and whatever was in the clouds above, then reached out to his runes. A switch of Gravity turned up into down for Yanily, tethering him to the clouds, while Attraction made sure he wouldn’t go too far or off course. After that, the only thing left to do was… let go.

Releasing his hold with his scarf, Hiral just watched as Yanily began to fall upward.

“Need me to wait here?” Hiral asked, standing there in the open sky within the storm.

“Nah,” Yanily said. “Go back and let the others know what’s happening. I’ll be back soon.”