“Jungle Blood?” Cor asked.

  “Yes, now that the war is on, this resource is going to be crucial,” Sarke explained. “Special trees called Monarchs of the Jungle will have appeared, and they will produce a sap filled with aether. We will need to collect this sap as it will be of critical importance to us.”

  Kur’s domain party had taken shelter in a somewhat intact fungi tower built, or grown, against a wall of impassable black mushrooms, their underbelly glowing an ominous red. From there, they had a commanding view of the body strewn Jungle’s Clearing, all the way to the Gate of Golden Skulls in the cliff opposite them.

  Alongside the wall of fungi, in other towers, and throughout the Gloom’s Edge and its surroundings, delvers had taken shelter in fungi buildings and tents. Under that ceaseless rain, even if it was somewhat blocked by the black fungi that characterized this part of the Gloom, the whole thing shone red and purple with dull despair.

  Jasphaer and Leta were still hard at work healing Raf and Mul to full health, plus healing the fresh injuries and wounds they had sustained on their mad rush to reach the leadership gathering in time. Nar himself had taken a nasty gash across his leg, but his brand new and hard earned [Indomitable] had proven its value, and just a few hours later, he didn’t even limp anymore.

  “So that’s what they’re using,” Cor said. “But why?”

  Nar too stared out at a group of Illum that had formed a circle in the rain. The Illum were bipedal, two armed and five-fingered growths of mushrooms. They communicated through grunts, nods and shakes of their bulbous heads, plus a few other gestures that were commonly understood across the entirety of Creation, sapient or non-sapient. Most of the Illum were about Nar’s size, but there were some that towered two or even three times that, and these the delvers gave wide berths too, as they shed status effect riddled spores from their great mushroom heads as they lumbered past.

  Other Illum sported glowing mushroom heads, which shone in many different colors. These, Sarke had pointed out, were the Illum casters and healers, and the colors indicated their specialties.

  Out there in the rain, the group of Illum casters kneeled in a wide circle, bowing and chiming, raising their hands to the dark skies and then burying them in the mud and Jungle Blood mix coating the ground. Again, and again they grunted and seemingly worshiped something, their heads glowing and movements shifting in sync.

  “They are summoning the Illum’s Revenge, which will face off against the Atlatl’s Glory,” Medis said.

  Nar, Cor and Cen eyed her in confusion.

  “Titans,” Sarke revealed. “Giant monsters, even bigger than Silver Fists. The Illum’s Revenge, or just the Revenge, will be our main weapon in this war, and it will be the one to lead the assault on the gate and the invasion of the Atlatl’s homeland. We will have to protect it, and the healers keeping it alive, if we are to have any chance of succeeding. For it will be almost impossible to face off the Glory without it.”

  “Plus, if we can keep the Revenge alive after we kill the Glory, the Revenge will also be a great boon when we lay siege to the capital of the Atlatl,” Medis added.

  “Crystal, this is getting more and more insane,” Cen said. “And we need this sap for the summoning?”

  “Not only for the summoning. Illum casters and healers need it to power their casting,” Sarke said. “It’s the same for the Atlatl, except that as the defenders, they will have Monarchs on their territory which they can easily harvest. Meanwhile, we’ll need to head to the Jungle of Divide in order to capture Monarchs of our own to power our forces and summoning ritual.”

  “Figures it wouldn’t be easy,” Nar muttered, eyeing the glowing, bowing Illum. “And once we’re up there, we’ll have to take their Monarchs too, right? I’m guessing this Jungle Blood is also used for the [Brightnight] ritual?”

  “Yep,” Medis said. “The more Monarchs they have, the more casting and healing they can do, and the faster the ritual will go. The more Monarchs we take from them, the more time we buy ourselves. That said, there is a Monarch within their capital city. So the ritual will never stop with just capturing the Monarchs. We’ll need to capture their city as well.”

  “Yay,” Cor muttered.

  “The Atlatl will focus on summoning their Glory first, before changing to the ritual. Hopefully by then, we’ll be in control of the Jungle of Divide, so their supply will be halved,” Sarke said. “I can’t see them well, but I think there’s one of those sap shipments right there, approaching the gate.”

  Nar pulled on his [Sight] and gobbled the distance until he was practically besides a convoy of three wooden, massive carts. Great barrels were secured to the carts, and two hundred Atlatl surrounded them as they made for the gate.

  “Should we attack?” Nar asked.

  “They’re too close to the gate,” Sarke said. “Plus, the defenders would blow up the shipment if the guards were killed, killing anyone in the vicinity.”

  “So that’s how they play…”

  “The Atlatl will be ruthless and intelligent. These are not beasts. It’s a civilization of monsters at the peak of their strength,” Sarke said. “Do not underestimate them, or you’ll end up in one of their torturing shrines and sacrificial altars. Sacrifices which, like we said, will speed up their ritual even further."

  Medis grimaced at the three stunned auramancers.

  “You can argue that this isn’t really a raid, given the small numbers involved. But it is a raid in essence,” the leontar said. “You better be ready for the fight of your lives. Not even your Ceremony can compare to what’s coming.”

  “We’re ready. Don’t worry,” Nar said.

  Whatever Medis said about the Ceremony, she had not been there. Nor had she Climbed through the darkness of the B-Nex, and its guardians and cannibals. If anything, it was Nar who wondered if the aethermancers would be ready for such a large-scale conflict, but he didn’t voice it.

  Instead, as the talk turned to details and particulars, Nar tracked a procession of Illum returning from the mud drenched battlefield. A line of pairs held a dead body in between them, by the ankles and wrists, and they were flanked by warriors armed with spears. The procession was headed by an Illum with a glowing, light-blue head.

  Behind the glowing Illum, a normal one held what looked like a mushroom at first, but which reverberated every time the Illum hit it.

  Tun. Tun. Tun-Tun.

  The beats of that mushroom drum punctuated the measured steps of the procession, and slowly, beat by beat by double beat, the line arrived in town. They passed under the black mushroom wall through the opened gate, and wherever they walked, the Illum ceased their reconstruction and repair efforts to bow their heads at the procession of the dead.

  A commotion erupted from one of the houses, and one of the Illum came running out. It dropped to its knees before the procession, raising its hand towards one of the dead in a movement so sapient it gripped Nar’s heart. Then the monster slammed his head on the floor, hard, again and again until other Illum stopped it.

  “They mourn.”

  Nar pulled his eyes off the mushroom house to look at Sarke. The other three had gone inside for food and to check on the wounded.

  “They feel…”

  “Like sapients?” she asked.

  Nar nodded.

  As they crossed the Gloom’s Edge, they’d found the Illum organized around temporary shelters to make up for the loss of their buildings. The Atlatl had launched a large offensive, hitting many of the Illum settlements along the edges of the Jungle’s Clearing to cover their heist of the Heart. The Illum injured were cared for, communal hunting and feeding efforts were organized, and the monsters brought their dead to be buried amidst the glowing white roots of the Brightness Tree around which Gloom’s Edge had grown. Other processions, similar to this one, continued to arrive from smaller settlements, so that every dead Illum could rest under a Brightness Tree.

  These monsters were, for all intents and purposes… people.

  “You B-Nexers always struggle with it,” Sarke said, as the procession continued onwards to the great, bright tree. “Sej was the same when she first arrived. It used to annoy me so much.”

  A shadow of a smile touched the reptilian’s features, her azure eyes briefly lit up by old memories.

  “They build, they cooperate, they love… that’s what she used to say. But the Atlatl and illum are non-sapients. Souls created by the System and dispersed throughout all the beasts and monsters in Creation…”

  Nar eyed as one of the illum came by the tower to offer their party some of their meager food. Eum accepted it, as they were desperate for supplies, but the auramancers wouldn’t be able to drink the aether infused Atlatl meat soup that the carnivorous Illum had cooked up.

  “So they’re fake souls?”

  Sarke chuckled. “Oh, that’s a big debate. Their memories are wiped clean upon death, before they are regenerated as different beasts or monsters, but are the souls real, or fake?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s a bottomless pit, this debate, and I advise you to stay clear of it. You are a delver, and these are monsters. Simple as that.”

  “Even if they sometimes look like us? We’ve killed goblins before, but I’ve since seen races of sapients that look similar…”

  “Even then,” she said, and grinned at him. “But don’t worry, only us more bestial and monstrous sapients are like that. You won’t find any alfin looking monsters out there. Even human look-alikes are rare. The first races are blessed like that.”

  “Right…”

  “You keep an eye on things,” Sarke said, patting his shoulder. “Let me go see if the Illum have something that you auramancers can eat.”

  “Thank you.”

  She left him atop that tower, and while his [Hearing] and [Awareness] were fully expanded around him, to make sure that nothing ambushed them, he only had eyes to the Illum, and to how sapient they behaved.

  **********

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Before we begin, let’s get the formalities out of the way, shall we?” Lord Yezathiel said.

  A window popped open before Kur’s still shocked eyes, and he read the two sentences contained within with a heavy frown.

  “With me are my cousins, Lady Yemeril and Lady Krescida, of Low-House Sarthfier, as well as Lord Donkura from Low-House Malekar, Lord Feranir from Low-House Jukul, and Lady Jeliane and Lord Treivion from Low-House Razkelon. Together, we are now in charge of this War Quest.”

  A stream of windows popped open and closed at the mention of each name, all of them containing the exact same two sentences.

  Obey the nobles… or else.

  Just as Professor Thim had taught them, in what now felt like an eternity ago, in that stuffy auditorium for Nexus 101.

  “Right, from my understanding we have three forces present. An elite apprenticeship from the mighty Tsurmirel, a third of the delvers from two guilds who were preparing to do this quest, and the local delvers,” Yezathiel summarized. “Have no fear, your lives could not be in better hands. We nobles are raised for this.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit, Kur thought, as he kept his expression neutral at the sight of the smug smiles before him. This was the worst thing that could have happened!

  “Me and my companions will take inventory of everyone’s parties in order to form raid groups, and we will formulate our strategies once that is done,” Yezathiel said. “For now, return to your parties. In half an hour, come by the Brightness Tree in Gloom’s Edge, and your party will be recorded into the raid formation. That is all.”

  “Uhm… Your Lordship, we—”

  Yezathiel raised a hand as he and his noble party left the gathering. “We won’t be taking any questions at this juncture.”

  And with that, they left, leaving behind them a silent, shocked crowd.

  “Fuck’s sakes! This is the—”

  Leon slapped his hand over Kos’s mouth. The paladin pointed at his ears and shook his head.

  Similar warnings and hushes rang around the gathering, and Kur found his eyes drawn to Dak, who gave him a nod.

  “The nobles have spoken. Let every party leader know to be in Gloom’s Edge in half an hour,” Dak said.

  With that, he stepped out into the rain, but not in the direction of Gloom’s Edge, and alone. Kur motioned for his people to return back to the Illum settlement, and he too stepped out into the rain.

  “Quite the unexpected change of events, eh?” Dak asked as Kur joined him. “What do you think?”

  Kur sighed, passing a hand over his eyes to get some brief respite from the downpour.

  “Exactly my thoughts!” Dak shouted, laughing.

  In theory, having a noble party in charge of their campaign could only be good news. They had been fractured into splintered factions, and now, a single, unquestionable authority had united them. Furthermore, nobles were trained from birth in combat and leadership, so Yezathiel ought to be their salvation.

  Of course, theory and fact often disagreed.

  The Lower Houses of the I-Nex were the dredges of the nobility. The lowest rung of that high social status, it was the one most easily reached by the so-called new XP. However, it was also the easiest to fall off from. Few Lower Houses survived the gauntlet of time to make it past five, ten or more generations in order to consolidate the power, wealth, connections and influence needed to climb up the ladder into the much more secure Middle Houses.

  If this noble party had belonged to the Middle Houses, Kur would’ve had a lot less worries and issues in trusting their lives to them. The Middle Houses were those who had survived millennia, and he could have trusted an heir from such a House to conduct this campaign with a professional no-nonsense attitude. As it were, and without really knowing anything about Low-House Sarthfier, there was no telling what kind of package had just landed in their hands.

  Dak had wiped out his tablet, and now turned it over for Kur to read.

  “Rain or not, we’re past the stage where we can trust our conversations to remain private.”

  Kur’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded.

  Dak deleted the first sentence and got typing again.

  “This is a mess. Not only did the guilds pull out their main forces from the domain when we arrived, they left their spares as placeholders. We can’t expect much from them,” he typed. “The locals at least seem capable, but they’re mostly harvesters and gatherers. We can’t expect much combat from them, but they will be useful as support, supply and even construction.”

  “And how do you know all that?” Kur asked.

  Dak grinned at him, wiggling his scaly eyebrows enigmatically, and typed out a new sentence.

  “My guess is that the nobles will use us as their heavy frontline, with the guilds either as reserve, or at least fighting from behind us,” it read. “It’s a smart plan, since we’re the elites here, but we need to see how they’re going to implement it.”

  “The right way or the wrong one,” Kur muttered.

  “Exactly! They could either have a proper strategy in place, or just point at the Jungle of Divide and say ‘go fetch!’” Dak typed. “We must always expect the worst. And so, we need to agree to work together, and do things the smart way behind and around their orders.”

  “We?” Kur asked. “You’re bigger than me.”

  Again, Dak flashed him an enigmatic grin.

  “I’ve just been warming the seat, Kur. Waiting for you to snap out of your little dilemma and to start throwing around that influence affinity of yours for real,” Dak said. “And the way you strutted into that gathering… can I assume that you’re past the self-pity?”

  “Almost,” Kur said, through gritted teeth.

  “Well, I won’t fall in line until you do,” Dak said. “But my guess is it will be soon. This war is going to wake you up. Until then, you need to ask me nicely. And I'll decide whether to do it or not. Deal?”

  Kur pondered the text for a long moment, the warm downpour around them making it as though they were the only ones left standing in that dungeon.

  Kur reached a hand over to the tablet and surprised, Dak passed it over.

  “Why are you moving under me? You have the bigger faction, and unlike Juf’s, your command is stable,” Kur typed. “Is this because of your affinity?”

  It was Dak’s turn to ponder Kur’s words, and another stretch of silent, heavy rain passed in between them.

  “I thought I was being careful,” Dak at last whispered. “How much do you know?”

  “Not a lot,” Kur confessed. “But enough. The aethermancer party we took in has taught us much, and it’s allowed me to put some pieces together. There are no—”

  He stopped himself, and typed it out instead.

  “There are no coincidences in the Nexus. Nor such a thing as luck.”

  Dak snorted. “Many would fight you on that last one. Some even for the first sentence. There are lots of wackos and religious nuts across many flavors of beliefs that would die on both Piles.”

  “Not me. And certainly not you,” Kur said.

  Dak sighed, then motioned for his tablet back.

  “The Scimitar is keeping this underwraps, and I’ve been told to do the same,” Dak typed. “For now, you can think of my affinity as a gut feeling. A sense for… opportunity.”

  “And I’m in it?” Kur asked.

  Dak nodded.

  “Something big is going on, and it’s centered around you and your party,” he typed. “I don’t know what it is yet, but I want me and my people to be in the right place for it.”

  Kur pointed a finger to his own chest, and again, Dak nodded.

  “We won’t be apprentices forever, and I believe that Tsurmirel is already making plans for our future,” Dak continued. “Else, why open the purse to bring us here? And maybe… they really did poach this War Quest, eh?”

  Kur heaved a sigh, earning a chuckle from Dak.

  “Yes. It’s possible these nobles did it. Or that those assassins after the paladin are behind this, but isn’t that a little too much?” Dak asked him. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for Tsurmirel to be the bad guys here? They already forcefully bought the dungeon… They might as well go the extra mile and steal the War Quest too. And baam! You lose a chunk of apprentices, sure, but most survive, and you get yourself an entire cohort of even better and greater elite apprentices!”

  “That still sounds too much…” Kur said. But Dak was already typing again, and Kur read the new sentence.

  “Delvers? They are everywhere! Easy-peasy to get,” Dak typed. “Elite delvers? Harder. They need the training, the XP, the resources, and to go through the meat-grinder, like we are. But… there are still plenty of us to go around. If you truly want to continue growing as a guild, especially into the top 5, you need a special kind of power, don’t you? The kind two of your party members are being trained to become…”

  “They could have ways to know what you typed in that thing,” Kur warned. “They probably do, actually.”

  “I know. There’ll be a little oopsie before I return, don’t worry,” Dak said, as he continued typing.

  “Named Few aren’t just thrown at the Deep Deep. They move in armies. They are force multipliers,” Dak wrote. “Nar may be the tip of the spear, with Viy and Gad as his direct support I wager, but they will need their army, and they will need their core unit around them. Their elite guard, as they call it. And we, the ex-Climbers of Gate BN455TE that survive through the Scimitar’s gauntlet are going to be that guard.”

  “And you’re okay with that?” Kur asked him. “You and your people will be—”

  “Will be what? Powerful? Well paid? Well treated?” Dak asked. “Relevant?”

  He waved at the domain around them, the pouring rain, the green beam shining in the distance, the frail Illum they would have to depend on, the gathered delvers anxious about their fates, the jungle of perpetual night, and the whole of Creation beyond.

  “We are not important,” Dak hissed. “Without Nar, we would barely even register to Tsurmirel. We’d be numbers in a spreadsheet, pushed and tossed around by people who have never left their desk in the O-Nex to be here, in the mud and the rain! Without Nar, we would’ve been just another cohort of elite apprentices, ready to be split and sent off to wherever Tsurmirel’s holes need plugging. But now, we all have a chance to become more. To mean something in this Creation of quadrillions!”

  Kur resisted the urge to step back from Dak’s ardent gaze. From the need within them, from the shout and call to step up into this role that the morsvar envisioned for him. No, that he demanded from him.

  “Do you know what they’ll use us for?” Kur whispered.

  Dak shook his head. “Only that it will be important. Maybe even crucial for Tsurmirel’s entire future.”

  He pulled up his tablet again, and typed in a furious daze.

  “My path is centered upon a new attribute. An attribute that stands above all others,” Dak typed. “A few sprinklings of this attribute are enough to cause a giant storm. A few little points in it, is all it takes to turn everything upside down, and you can trust me that I know what I’m doing. And you will want me by your side, Kur. You will need me, just as I need you, and your influence, and your party.”

  “We will need a leader,” Dak said, when Kur hesitated. “A true leader. One capable of taking us all on a new Climb. One up the ranks and glory of the Nexus. And it must be you.”

  Kur took a few steps back, his eyes locked on that nightmarish green shining beyond the Gate of the Golden Skulls.

  A future-related affinity, or something along those lines, Kur thought, just as he’d predicted. He’d been putting two and two together ever since Leon had spoken of his concerns for Jul, and the potential that could lie dormant within her.

  It could be that Jul and Dak had different things going on for them, but it really did seem that both of them had the means to get glimpses of what was to come. Jul was focused on danger, but Dak’s seemed to be focused on opportunity, or perhaps the right path forward, or something along those lines.

  “You will need me.”

  Kur exhaled, steadying his heart.

  Dak wasn’t wrong. If his affinity, and that unknown attribute were already capable of that much at these levels, imagine with another hundred or more on top… And Dak wasn’t wrong. In the Nexus you were either relevant, or the tools of someone that was.

  He turned around, his decision made, and found that Dak had typed another string of sentences.

  “Juf’s faction is falling apart. She’s been smoothing the cracks for a while now, but she’s not you or me,” it read. “She had the good idea to use everyone’s aura back in the Ceremony, but as for the rest of the fight? All she did was order people forward. Pile! Nar and Jul did a lot more for that battle by steadying that line! And once the Raid Boss was down, Juf ran for it… We stayed for our people! Fuck, I kept the left side going, even with that beam of electricity and that poison cloud! And who knows if the System really did pick the best party leaders to lead the Ceremony, or if it was just random? So no, Juf’s not the same, and it’s starting to show. Especially against you, with the best grades by far in the Leadership… Plus, I know that despite holding back, that affinity of yours has been hard at work, hasn’t it? You’re the faculty favorite already!”

  “So you want me to take over,” Kur said.

  “Take over her parties. Pile, half of them are already dying to join you. They’re neither stupid nor blind, and they see the way the Pile is leaning,” Dak said. “So take over Juf’s people, and I’ll know you’re in business. Then, you will have me and my people as well, and all of the Scimitar’s parties will fall under your command. An army, ready for anything that Tsurmirel throws our way, and capable of reaping all the rewards that we B-Nexers rightly deserve.”

  Kur snorted and shook his head.

  “You’re calling for this Pileslide. You better be ready to ride it.”

  “Oh, I am more than ready!” Dak breathed, his all-black eyes going wide, reflecting the green coming off from the distant, stolen Heart. “I’m ready for us to take it all, Kur. But you have to prove yourself first.”

  Laughing, Dak turned to leave.

  “If the worst comes to pass and I die, trust my people to handle it the right way, and to do as I instructed,” Dak said. “And I’ll trust your people to do the same.”

  With that, the party leader disappeared in the rain.

  Alone, Kur passed a hand over his long, wet hair.

  “I need a hair cut,” he muttered.

  That, and to start making plans for all their futures, before they were ground to dust under Tsurmirel’s aspirations. But was Dak going too far, and letting his imagination run too wild?

  Somehow, Kur couldn’t discard a single word the morsvar had said, and perhaps it really was up to him to take them all to the heights of the Nexus, and reap the rewards that as Climbers who had made it to the surface, they so rightly deserved.