*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter — Chalice Theocracy*
Aris stood in the dust-choked cavern, his voice raw from shouting. "Damn it, you insolent zealous NPCs!" He looked around desperately, seeking any light, any exit. "Fuck all of you!"
His leg throbbed where Sliver's whip-thorns had carved through muscle during their initial confrontation before the earthquake. The pain radiated up through his hip with every heartbeat. He cast Curing Touch, charging it to maximum, feeling the warm radiance knit flesh back together. The pain dulled to an ache, then faded to a distant memory.
"How did no stone fall on me?" The thought chilled him more than the dark. His Luck title. It had protected him while killing Fyndar. The same fortune that had saved his life had ended another's. He pushed the guilt down, buried it beneath urgency.
Aris cast Featherfall on Sliver's unconscious form and lifted her carefully. She weighed almost nothing with the spell active, her golden hair trailing limply as he adjusted his grip. He glanced at Fyndar's bisected corpse, the blood already pooling dark in the stone cracks. The massive stalactite had cleaved through armor and bone alike. There was no condition to carry him. No chance to save what was already gone.
Aris turned toward the only path forward and walked deeper into the dungeon.
The tunnel walls pressed close, slick with moisture and covered in phosphorescent moss that cast everything in sickly green. His boots squelched through puddles that smelled of copper and rot. The ceiling dripped constantly, cold water running down the back of his neck. After what felt like an eternity, the passage opened into a semi-lit rocky chamber.
A dueling ring glowed faintly in the center, runes etched along its perimeter pulsing with arcane light. The stone floor was worn smooth from countless feet, countless battles. Three figures stood in the shadows at the far end. Waiting.
"We quit! You hear us? We quit!" Aris's voice echoed off stone walls.
One figure started walking forward, footsteps deliberate and unhurried.
The figure reached the middle of the arena, its featureless face catching the dim light. "Take two wins and move forward." The voice was mechanical, emotionless, as if speaking through hollow pipes.
"No! We quit, let us out!"
But the figure already drew a blade, taking a fighting stance that made Aris's stomach drop.
"Let us out! She needs serious help!" Aris gestured desperately at Sliver's limp form floating beside him.
A voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once. "They won't let you. You think Chalice is built on pity and solidarity? Think again."
Aris spun, searching for the source. "Who are you? If you're hearing us, we withdraw! Take us out! I can't win this dungeon alone!"
"Oh, I'm just an observer. I have no control over it."
"Then call your boss! Someone in charge! Fyndar is dead! She's dying!"
The voice almost sounded amused. "I saw the incident. Giant misfortune and excellent timing. Good job, apprentice of Nebu."
Aris froze. "Who are you? How do you know my master?" That voice... he'd heard it before. Where? The memory tugged at him, elusive and frustrating.
"I can't help you, Aris. Can't call anyone without exposing myself. Fight until you collapse, then they'll take you when the sweeping time comes. But if you win... I have a gift for you."
Aris reluctantly took a step toward the ring, then stopped. He turned back to Sliver's unconscious form and noticed her staff lying beside her. And her small buckler. Both had intricate runes etched into the wood and metal, with focusing stones embedded in matching patterns that seemed to drink in the ambient light.
"Sorry, I need these." He picked up the staff first. It felt perfectly balanced in his grip, thrumming with residual power. The buckler strapped to his forearm like it was made for him. "These are really good equipment."
He pulled out one of his blood-mixed stat potions and downed it in one gulp. Fire exploded through his veins. Force and Manifest surging higher. His muscles tensed with newfound strength, his vision sharpening until he could count the individual runes on the arena floor.
Aris walked into the ring, cast Minor Shield onto the buckler, and waited for his opponent.
The figure resolved into clarity as it stepped into the light. A tall human, lean and fit, with two daggers drawn. The stance made Aris's breath catch. He knew that stance. He'd seen it countless times in sparring sessions.
"Ready?" the copy asked.
"Go for it."
The opponent exploded forward with unusual speed for a dagger user, closing the gap in heartbeats.
Aris cast Radiant Convergence. The sphere of light manifested above Sliver's staff, crackling with power. He sent missiles and flares streaming out, forcing the attacker to weave left. Exactly where Aris wanted him. He'd learned this from watching Orric spar. Lure right, kick left.
The attacker closed within striking range but lost momentum dodging. Aris unleashed a front kick powered by level 36 Force and blood potion enhancement.
But the opponent half-turned, expecting it, and landed a quick jab with his piercing knife into Aris's right abdomen.
Pain flared white-hot. Aris lost concentration on both Minor Shield and Radiant Convergence, the spells guttering out like snuffed candles.
He groaned but endured. "That move... that's Orric's counter!" Aris had never been fast enough to spar properly with his wolfkin friend, but he'd watched Gumo use the same feint. And Orric had countered exactly like this.
Aris squinted at the remaining shadowed figures. Who were these people? Copies? Constructs? Something worse?
"If he's like Orric, he won't let me charge spells." Aris grabbed the staff with both hands, taking a defensive stance. "But I have better stats now."
The opponent lunged again. Right step, left step, duck, rising slash from low to high.
"Not just like Orric. This IS Orric's pattern!" Aris backstepped fast, the knife missing by inches. "Before, I could never match your speed or strength. But now I'm better in every stat."
He took one step forward and swung the staff with both hands. The opponent tried to block with crossed daggers, but Aris's swing shattered through the defense, the force of level 36 Force behind it. The daggers flew from the copy's hands, clattering across the stone floor.
Without hesitation, Aris began the hand movements and chanting. "Holy Smite!"
Golden lightning erupted from above, hammering down on the weaponless opponent. The figure convulsed once and collapsed, dissolving into shimmering particles that drifted upward like fireflies.
Aris tried to reach out, to help somehow, but the body was already gone. Nothing remained but fading light.
The second figure walked forward from the shadows.
A halfling girl. Aris immediately recognized the stance and robes. Rank 9, Yhoulena, the halfling priest-mage who'd dominated ranged combat throughout the dueling season. She'd kept her spot in the top ten with vicious accuracy and clever positioning.
"So they kept your race as-is." Aris recast Minor Shield and prepared himself. "Sorry, but assassins were my bad matchup. Mages? With this witness stone, you're the easiest."
Yhoulena began casting, hands weaving complex patterns. Fire bloomed between her palms.
Aris charged, using his enhanced Agility to close the distance before she could finish. She barely got the spell off and a gout of flame singed his shoulder. Before she could recover, he swung the staff two-handed into her left side.
The crack echoed through the chamber. Her arm bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.
But she stood back up with zero pain on her face and began casting with her left hand alone, the broken arm dangling uselessly at her side.
"Of course. You don't feel pain." Aris dodged the fire ray that scorched the ground where he'd stood and swung again, this time aiming for her head.
The staff connected with brutal force. The copy crumpled.
Light-filled etchings appeared on the walls as both opponents and the remaining silhouette dissipated magically. "Trial Room 1 Complete. Move on to next trial."
"No! Let us out!"
Aris looked around the empty chamber and cursed the Chalice Order with every profanity he knew.
The same voice echoed from nowhere. "Congratulations, Aris. But the next one will be more challenging. Though I'm sure my potion recipes will help you greatly."
Aris's eyes widened. "You're that blood freak! The one who left those notes in the alchemy room! You work for the High Priestess. Contact them, get us out!"
"No, no. I'm not working FOR her. I work WITH her to satisfy my needs. And I won't deliver such a promising subject to them just so they can expel you because of some small misfortune. Or worse."
Aris stared at the ceiling, at the walls, trying to find some camera or projection. "What do you mean, worse?"
But the voice had gone silent.
A passage opened in the far wall. The only way forward.
Aris gathered Sliver's floating form and walked into the darkness.