Chapter 20

The next day was a delving day. It would take a while to set up things for the healing business, and Michael was low on Coins, needing to top up his stash. His mana pool was a comfortable 15 Copper, grown by three since last time he checked, but his supply of coins was down to 23, too little to be comfortable. An extensive heal on someone other than himself could consume up to thirty or more coins, by his reckoning, so he absolutely needed to refuel at the dungeon.

Besides, after all the excitement of the previous day, he needed to unwind. What better way to do that than a good old delve? Tomorrow he would delve again, and then go to karate class, his life returning to a semblance of normality. At least until Old Dave called him to inform him that Carmela had found someone. The woman could be an asset, Dave had assured him once they were alone. Their banter had mostly been just to probe each other, but once they started working together they would make sure there wouldn’t be any issue. She would be busy trying to exploit the power vacuum created by the assassinations to secure herself a better position in the Italian mob, but she promised to deliver on her promise very soon.

Michael did his exercises, ate his protein, and noted with satisfaction that he was still gaining a fair bit of muscle for his efforts. He was on the road soon after, and by lunchtime he was back at the dungeon. There were a few people on the trail, but he managed to sneak inside unseen.

This time, a mixture of both skeletons and goblins was there to meet him. There were four of them, two and two, and they were different than usual. Slightly bigger, yet still smaller than the boss versions, and soon Michael noticed that they were also faster and tougher than the normal mobs he was used to fighting.

A welcome challenge. One he could overcome with his fists, instead of all the headache inducing talks and scheming he had to go through to navigate the real world. He had had trouble sleeping for the first time since forever, his mind spinning itself into knots with worries and troubling possibilities. Fighting was what Michael was good at. He had known ever since he first set foot in the dungeon, and if at the time he was fooling himself, now he knew for sure.

It was a dance. Fists of flame cooking flesh, bubbles of repulsive force snapping arms and brittle bones, aura of presence making the enemies stagger, mana manipulation running in the background to make sure he was always topped up, absorbing the magic from the rich air of the dungeon. It was a dance that was all too short, and soon he had defeated the bosses: four hulking figures that were much less threatening than even a single goblin was on his first delve.

Disappointed, Michael almost wished to delve again, but then his phone beeped. He stashed the newly earned coins, a small fortune as a reward for his skills that brought the total back up to 85, and checked the message. There were two, actually. One from Dave, telling him that Carmela had arranged something for the day after tomorrow. She works quickly. The other was from one of his old friends from uni.

Apparently they wanted to do a reunion with the old gang, but Michael would have to take a flight to join them, which he couldn’t afford. He was about to tell his friend so, but then he remembered that money might not be an issue for much longer, and there was still no date set for the dinner. In the end, Michael didn’t commit to either path, saying that he would be thinking about it. His friend insisted, and was ignored.

Damn, more people issues. I need another delve to clear my head.

He headed back, entering the maw of the cave. The delve ended much in the same way as before, because even though the difficulty was clearly increasing, it was doing so slower than Michael was improving, be it skill-wise or in terms of battle experience. At the end of the run, the door leading to the second floor beckoned, calling to him.

I need a challenge, he thought, reaching for the door. Time did not flow outside, after all, and he had plenty of food, water and his lights were almost at full battery. Gripping his stash of now more than 120 Coins, he headed down below.

There was a man, waiting at the end of the dim staircase. It was not lost on Michael that he had needed no lights to go down the steps, and now that he was almost at the bottom he could see a blinding light ahead, with hints of blue and green. Leaves and a sky?

The man perked up when Michael got close, and while he was ready for anything, the man did not radiate any sense of danger. He simply looked at Michael with a placid expression, before suddenly talking, the transformation immediate. One moment he was placid and silent, the next he was talking animatedly, loud and bombastic, as if he was an actor in a play.

“Long ago, when the Unity was still whole, it brought peace and prosperity to these lands. But then the Unity was shattered. A bitter war, with seven victors, each claiming a Glyph from the spoils of the once whole Unity. Making them powerful, but plunging the land into chaos. Find the bearers of the Glyphs and vanquish them, oh explorer, powerful and free from fate, and restore the Unity to its whole glory! Only then will I be able to stand proud once again, free from this curse.” The man said.

“Might – Mind – Time – Truth – Fate – Fortune – Death, these are the glyphs that even now, though much diminished, rule this land. A mere shadow of the greater whole, the Unity. Bring them together, and become a hero of this age, forever to be remembered as the savior of Rhyme Valley.”

The man bowed, and then left, walking into the forest until he vanished without a trace.

An NPC?

It was a fair question, but the doubt was short lived, soon replaced by wonder. Indeed, Michael had found himself in a lush forest, bathed by the warm light of an impossible sun—he was underground, after all—with clear blue skies and a warm wind, rich of the smell of flowers and earth. The trees were tall and proud, and a river flowed in rapids nearby. There was a strange eeriness to the air, the trees slightly strange, the colors all too vivid, the water too blue to be real.

A sharp difference compared to the first floor.

Behind him, the door had disappeared, replaced by a solid wall of stone. He was stuck here, and according to the message he read when he stepped foot on the first step leading down to this second floor, he could only leave once he found at least a glyph.

How I am going to find them is yet to be seen.

Walking around, one of the first things Michael noticed was just how much mana there was in the air. It was like waking through syrup, and his magic sense was alight with colors and lights, most of them the greens and browns of nature, with some blue and other colors mixed in. It was a stark contrast compared to the feeling coming from all of his other senses, which insisted that he was immersed in a bucolic landscape of clean, fresh air, warm sun and pleasant wind.

There was a clearing not too far ahead, easy to reach by walking through the sparse underbrush and tall grass. From there, the landscape opened up, revealing the surrounding area. The grove Michael had emerged from was on a stony shelf roughly one third of the way up a tall, rocky mountain, and from the clearing he could see the whole of the valley the strange man had talked about. There was a river, large and placid, at the center, with many smaller rivers flowing into it. Other mountains closed off the verdant valley on all sides, and mists hid the far ends of it, with the central river appearing from one wall of mist and disappearing into the other far away.

Despite most of the valley being forest and verdant prairies, the landscape was far from monotonous. There were several features that stood out, even from a distance. Six, to be precise, which was a very suspicious number. Six features, plus the forest. Seven like the glyphs.

One of them will be in the forest, then the others… his eyes swept the valley. There was a huge glacier on a nearby mountain, the white snow giving way to crystal blue ice at the top. Then there was a volcano, surrounded by scorched, dry earth. Dark and filled with smoke, it took up the far end of the valley, only making space for trees close to the river. Then there was a zone that was pure stone, brown features like trees—it was hard to tell from a distance—that were all angles and spikes. Another landmark was a swamp, near the center of the valley, filled with rot and stagnant water. The last two landmarks were a desert, utterly out of place with its sandy dunes the color of ripe wheat and gold, and finally a castle, built in the shade of a mountain, across the swamp.

I wonder if the order matters.

Michael’s musings were interrupted by the rustle of leaves, coming from the underbrush and not the canopy. Clearly not the wind.