Chapter 558

Nick adjusted his course, following the sound down a branching corridor.

He drew the Stillness tighter around his shoulders, layering his [Spiritual Sovereign] trait over the enchanted fabric and drawing his mana inward until it felt as if he weren’t even there.

Gliding over the uneven floor, he considered what he was about to see.

The Vael mages were far too cautious and moving far too slowly to have triggered a Guardian fight this deep. Someone else had beaten them to the punch, meaning he wasn’t the only interloper.

I don’t sense anyone with great power, but that doesn’t mean much. If I can hide my mana, so can they.

Admittedly, fooling his senses wasn’t something just anyone could do, but he couldn’t rule it out.

The narrow passage opened into a vast subterranean cavern. Tall pillars of black obsidian rose from the floor, reaching toward a ceiling lost in the gloom. The ambient light here was negligible, forcing Nick to rely on his spiritual senses to map the terrain.

In the center of the cavern, a brutal fight was underway.

The Second Guardian was a shifting mass of solid darkness and solid plating. It had no fixed shape, constantly morphing from a hulking, ape-like brawler into a sprawling, multi-limbed nightmare. It also drew power directly from the dungeon, making it hard to pin down its exact level, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t much higher than the one he’d just faced.

Nick crouched on a stalactite, analyzing the beast, and had to suppress a sigh of disappointment. It was mostly made of shadow mana, with no trace of the spatial affinity he sought.

The interloper didn’t have it either, but at least she was more interesting.

She was a cow-kin, easily seven feet tall. Great horns curved upward from her brow, framing a strikingly handsome face with strong cheekbones and dark, focused eyes. Her imposing bust was tightly bound in enchanted leather armor, the straps strained by the sheer musculature of her shoulders and arms. She wielded a great bladed mace, a slab of dark iron attached to a thick wooden haft that would have taken two normal men to lift, let alone wield in battle as gracefully as she did.

Yes, despite her bulk and the brutal nature of her weapon, she moved like a ghost.

He could tell she had a high-tier stealth skill; she made no sound and was hard to see with his mortal senses.

She darted between the pillars, using the Guardian's own erratic shadows as cover, and somehow managing to escape its notice for brief moments.

A pack of lesser shadow elementals, summoned by the Guardian to flank her, rushed through the gloom. They were formless hounds with snapping jaws of pure dark mana.

The cow-kin did not retreat. She pivoted on her heel, finding perfect purchase on the uneven stone, and swung her mace.

Its blades hummed with a surge of kinetic mana, and the weapon carved through the front rank of the shadow hounds, disrupting their forms and shattering them into dissolving mist.

She reversed her grip, driving the haft backward into the skull of another hound that was trying to bite her calf, popping it like a punctured balloon.

She was clearly a veteran and well accustomed to working alone, given that her style was designed to cover all approaches.

Nick hummed as he watched her work her way through the horde, deciding she was at most in the upper eighties, not some secret master in disguise. Outleveled by the Guardian, she bridged the gap with flawless technique, awareness, and sheer patience.

As the last of the hounds fell, the Guardian roared, a sound that shook dust from the ceiling, then surged forward. It condensed its shifting limbs into a single blade and brought it down in a crushing strike meant to carve the cow-kin in two or crush her against the floor if she tried to block.

Rather than meet it head-on, she stepped back as if she’d been waiting for it, sliding out of the blade's path.

The blow struck the cavern floor, cracking it and hurling a spray of stone shrapnel into the air.

Before the Guardian could retract its weapon, the cow-kin stepped back into the strike zone and raised her mace in a two-handed swing, targeting the point where the blade met the main mass of shadow.

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Her iron flanges shattered the joint in a burst of kinetic mana, and the blade snapped off, dissolving into black smoke.

Nick had to admit he was thoroughly entertained. He could easily slip into the cavern, summon his elements, and steal the kill. A Guardian core was a valuable prize, especially one so attuned to a single mana type.

But it offered him no progress toward his spatial goals, and interfering in a hard-fought duel felt remarkably petty. So he sat back and observed.

The battle dragged on for another twenty minutes. The cow-kin whittled the Guardian down, systematically shattering its armor and disrupting its attempts to summon reinforcements. She fought a battle of attrition, managing her stamina with precision and seemingly knowing how to counter every one of her foes’ skills.

Finally, frustrated, the Guardian overextended itself, attempting to engulf her in a sweeping wave of solid shadow after being unable to pin her down for too long. It was damaged, perhaps more than it knew, given how careful she’d been to prevent its regeneration.

The cow-kin vaulted off a cracked pillar, launching her imposing frame into the air. She raised the great mace high above her head, channeled a surge of mana into it, and descended like a falling star, driving the weapon into the center of the Guardian's shifting mass.

The cavern flashed with pale light, and a shockwave ripped the surrounding shadows apart.

The Guardian froze as a network of bright cracks spread across its remaining plates. With a final groan, it exploded into a shower of black mana, hurling the cow-kin away.

A fist-sized core of dark crystal fell to the cavern floor, clicking softly against the stone.

And this is where I'd swoop in to steal her hard-won prize, if I were an asshole.

The cow-kin landed in a crouch and leaned against the haft of her mace, her chest heaving as she drew in air. She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of black dust across her skin. Cuts and bruises littered her skin.

A moment later, she seemed to recover as new power surged through her limbs. She walked over to the core, scooped it up, and inspected it. A satisfied grin spread across her face, and she dropped the prize into a leather pouch at her belt.

Nick stood on the ledge and dialed back the [Spiritual Sovereign] trait, letting a fraction of his power bleed into the cavern before cutting off the Stillness’ effect.

The cow-kin reacted instantly. She spun, bringing her mace up into a defensive guard, her dark eyes scanning the high ledges. She found him standing there, his coat billowing slightly in the draft.

“No need for that," Nick said, keeping his voice conversational and his hands loose at his sides as he stepped off the ledge and floated gently to the cavern floor.

The woman tensed, her knuckles white on the oak haft. Despite her appearance, she was clearly well-versed in the subtler skills, and he had no doubt she could sense far more of the power rolling off him than most adventurers.

Still, because he made no aggressive move, the tension in her shoulders slowly eased. She lowered the mace, resting its head on the floor.

“I would apologize, but I’m still a bit wound up from the battle,” she replied, her voice surprisingly smooth.

“Not to worry, I take no offense,” Nick hummed. “It was an impressive battle, and you deserve the spoils.”

She snorted, but relaxed her stance. She even unbuckled the leather strap holding the mace and leaned the weapon against a nearby pillar. "I've been chipping away at that overgrown shadow for three days. It took a while to map its attack patterns.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Three days. You must have been in the caves before the Vael mages locked the entrance.”

"Bora," she said, offering her name with a casual wave. "And yes, I was on a Guild quest when the leylines fully ruptured. By the time I realized a dungeon had formed, those cunts had thrown up their containment wards and were crawling down the main tunnels.”

With a sigh, she reached into a pouch at her hip and drew out a carved wooden pipe and a small leather tobacco pouch. She packed the bowl with practice, snapping a spark from her thumb to light it. A gray plume of smoke soon curled into the cold cavern air.

"I figured fighting my way through a dozen angry Tower mages was a bad idea, if only for the hit to my reputation,” Bora continued, taking a slow drag from the pipe. "So I went deeper. Found this shadow beast. Figured I might as well get paid for my time before trying to sneak past the blockade.”

She pulled a wrapped bundle from her pack, tossed it to Nick, and gestured toward the open ground beside her.

It stopped in the air before him, and he unraveled it with a thought. Unsurprisingly, it was salted meat, a favorite of adventurers. He tore off a piece and chewed, not minding the toughness given his enhanced physique. "Nicholas Crowley," he offered in return.

Bora paused, the pipe hovering halfway to her lips. She looked at his dark coat, noting the golden swords embroidered on the lapel and the star-metal medal resting on his chest.

“A Mage Errant," she muttered, a new layer of respect creeping into her tone. "Well, that explains the power. I shouldn’t be surprised Alluria took notice sooner than those guys hoped.”

“Eh, I was just passing through," Nick said, taking another bite of the rations. “The dungeon was interesting enough, and since I was looking into spatial magic, I thought I’d check it out. Unfortunately, I haven’t found a monster wielding it yet.”

Bora laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the cavern walls. “I suppose that’s why you weren’t interested in my loot." She took another drag from her pipe. "You going to be hunting the other Guardians?”

Nick nodded. “They’ll make some good coin, even if they aren’t what I’m looking for. I don’t suppose you know where they might be?”

"I know where the shit gets weird," Bora muttered, pointing the stem of her pipe at a narrow fissure on the far side of the cavern. "Down that way. The rock formations start folding back on themselves. I took one look and decided the elemental was a much safer bet.”

"I appreciate the direction," Nick said, tossing the rest of the dried meat back to her, along with a flask of fresh water.

The Vael mages were an annoyance, but a politically sensitive one. He needed Bluetear to handle them, but he also wanted to use every second he could before this place started swarming with people.

"You need to get out of the dungeon," he observed. "The mages are methodically charting the upper levels and will reach this chamber eventually. Your stealth is excellent, but slipping past a sweeping ward grid is another matter.”

Bora grimaced, tapping the ashes from her pipe against the heel of her boot. "I'll manage. I have a few tricks left.”

"I can walk you right through their protections," Nick offered. "Completely undetected. It will save you a week of hiding in the dark, and it guarantees you keep the core.”

Bora crossed her arms beneath her imposing bust, pushing it up. "What's the price?”

"A delivery," Nick said. He pulled a rolled sheet of parchment and a charcoal pencil from his ring, then rested the parchment against a smooth plane of stone and drafted a short message.

It was a formal notification to the Tower Master, detailing the coordinates of the Starlit Caves and confirming the presence of the Vael mages and their intent to keep the dungeon to themselves. He kept the tone detached and clinical, offering no indication of his own actions in the dungeon. Once it was done, he signed it, rolled the parchment tightly, and sealed it with a quick application of heat to a bead of wax.

"I need this delivered to the Tower in Alluria," Nick said, holding out the scroll. "Give it directly to a Spellblade, but do not answer any questions about where you got it. Just drop it and walk away.”

Bora took the scroll and turned it over in her large hands. She looked at the wax seal, then up at Nick. “Eh, fuck those bastards. I’ll do it.”