Chapter 264 - Cat Business III
“I must warn you, it is a grisly sight.”
Arciel voiced the warning as she arrived at a large, metal door. There were no holes or glass panels in its frame, nothing that aided in precisely determining its thickness, but its absurd weight was made clear regardless. Its handle was as thick as an arm, and each of the latches that kept it shut was made from a full sword’s worth of steel. There was something in the realm of a hundred locks adorning its frame, some made of metal, others formed of magic, all adding to its already ridiculous weight.
“We’ll be fine,” said Claire, with a roll of the eyes. “It’s not like we’ve never killed anything before.”
“Perhaps,” said the squid, with a forced smile. “But there exist many fates much worse than death.”
She raised a severed head to the door and pressed it against the bare steel. The various mechanisms whirled to life immediately; the magic circles spun, the chains retracted, and the locks twisted themselves out of shape. The door moved of its own accord as well, swinging wide open as soon as the final binding was disengaged.
On the other side of the barrier stood an average Vel’khanese prison. As per the national standard, it featured two types of cells. On the left were rooms constructed with terrestrial creatures in mind. Each had a small desk, a single chair, a bed, and a bucket, all barred off from the outside world with a series of enchanted metal poles. Sitting opposite them was a series of glass tanks meant for prisoners from the sea. They were inserted partially into the ground, with the top opening up to a small piece of land in the corner of each room. Magic circles were inscribed into the walls to serve as filtration systems. They filtered waste from the water and ensured that it was never deprived of air.
Unlike a Cadrian equivalent, which would have been kept sparkling and hygienic, the Vel’khanese gaol was a dingy, unmaintained mess with layers of dust caked onto every surface. The prisoners were likewise undignified. Many of them sitting in the corners of their cells, huddled up and unresponsive, eyes devoid of light. Their food rations, which often looked a few days old, were completely untouched, and the land-dwellers were practically stewing in their own waste. One of the dolphin-like inmates had even managed to drown in his pool, his bloated, rotting carcass floated up the surface for all the others to smell.
The girls continued squabbling about one thing or other whilst making their way down another three halls. At the end of the labyrinth, past all the various cells and holding pens, sat a musty wooden door. It was only waist high and featured a shape akin to that of a gate for small animals. There were several clear gaps in the wood, but all was obscured by a thin black veil.
Even with the cloth in their path, the conditions beyond were clear. There was a rancid stench wafting through the air, the sick, sour smell of something past due. Mingled in with the scents were thick juicy squelches, the sound of mud being ground against one’s toes, of flesh being squished and turned to paste.
When the curtain was pulled aside, the party was greeted by a series of pods. Their frames were made of wood; they looked like roots or vines with fungal membranes growing between them, each packed to bursting with a mix of flesh and fluid. Some of the roots transported the fluids in and out, with each featuring one particularly thick tendril that fed into a bucket by the door. The purified liquid was thick and white, and it was also present in large quantities within the pods. But in them, it was not alone. The milk was mixed with everything else, stained a sickly yellow-brown by the squids’ other secretions.
And it was in those secretions that they were bathed. Constantly. The pods contained nothing but bodies and unsanitary liquids, a veritable cesspool of insanity, sustained by the magic circle inscribed into the center of the room.
Without the healing spell, the squids’ continued existence was impossible. They would have succumbed immediately to the countless diseases that riddled their frames. Their skin was covered in warts—cancerous growths rejected from their bodies. Blood leaked from their pores, further polluting the visceral mess that had become their final habitat.
“Behold. The handiwork of a queen obsessed with justice.” Ciel spat the words as she waded through the room, whose floor was covered in the same corrupted vines that made up the pods, and approached the squid that sat in its center. She was the only one whose body was still intact, the one creature that shared the new queen’s underwater form, and the bud from which the greenery grew. It extended from the tips of her tentacles as several lines of blood constantly ran down her face, dripping from her various orifices. Her eyes were lifeless, like all the other prisoners, but her lips were constantly moving, uttering individual words in a flattened tone.
“Cell 3. Oxygen levels low. Adjusting. Cell 4. Fecal levels high. Adjusting. Cell 5. No flags raised. Adjustments omitted.”
She looped through each of the seven entries, over and over, repeating only the output designated by the spell carved into her face.
“This is my aunt,” said Arciel, after a deep breath. “The fool that took the whore into her harem.” She bent down and traced the sigil engraved into the older squid’s forehead. “Or at least all that remains. She is no longer capable of thought, reduced to a living machine by the leech’s machinations.”
“The Kaldysian Curse,” said Claire, as she eyed the brand.
“You know it?”
The half-snake nodded. “My teacher drilled it into me.” Claire paused for a moment to recall the pointless endeavour. Allegra had refused to lecture her on any other topic until she was able to recite the seven divine curses and their precise functions. Of the seven, five were tame, more petty and spiteful than truly malicious. The Curse of Gnarm possessed its victims with the urge to flatulate when engaged in conversation, the Curse of Zalkon ensured ingrown nails, and the Curse of Ribbendam tickled the bottom of the target’s foot each time they took a step, and so on and so forth.
It was only the last two that were of a truly malignant nature. The Kaldysian Curse replaced the person in question with a programmable doll made of their flesh, and the Final Curse forbade its victims from interacting with the ones they loved, for any such individual met with an affectionate caress would immediately perish on account of the curse god’s authority.
From an outsider’s perspective, the categorization was comical. The disparity between the first five and the last two was like night and day. But despite the apparent differences, they were not grouped without reason; divine curses were permanent, with no hope of removal. It was only Builledracht himself that could trigger them, and a high-level ritual mage that could entreat him to extend his hand.
“Then you must also know the sole resolution.” The squid drew her blade from her hat. “I do not believe we are capable of offering them salvation. Disease is a weakness of my people. Once infected, it is difficult, if not impossible for us to be cured. Without this spell to sustain them, I see only a future wherein they perish.”
“Wait, doesn’t that make it like, really, really really risky for you to be here?” asked Sylvia.
“Perhaps,” said the queen. “But it is my duty to see my kin released from their suffering.” She turned for a moment to look at the fox. “I have long resolved myself to set them upon the path of ruin and walk with them until they are unable. But I must ask, might you, any of you, be aware of another solution?”
“Mmmmnnnn… hmmmmnnn…” Sylvia stood up on her hind legs and crossed her front paws.
“Your aunt cannot be saved,” said Claire. “Not even another god can break one of Builledracht’s divine curses.”
“Yeah, I dunno if we can do anything about her, but my great grandpa thingy might be able to help with the others?”
“Your great grandfather… thingy?” repeated the squid.
“Yeah! He’s a celestial and he’s really good at like making life and fixing people and stuff. But he’s a huge perv, and I dunno if he’s gonna help. Even if he does, he’ll probably ask for a whole bunch of favours in return.”
“Bad idea,” said Claire. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
She narrowed her eyes as she imagined the old man in question. Though she hadn’t seen him in months, she could easily imagine him cackling as he watched the conversation unfold, every wrinkle in his skin as clear as the last.
“I take it you are personally acquainted with this celestial, Claire?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh, come on! He’s not that bad! I mean, sure he’s a little annoying, and he’s a bit of a perv, but he’s a really nice guy, I swear!”
“A bit?” Claire narrowed her eyes. “He pesters me with his delusional fantasies twice a week, sometimes in the middle of the night.”
“I-I know it sounds bad, but that’s probably just ‘cause he likes you.”
“It doesn’t sound bad, it is bad. We’re not dealing with him. End of story.”
“If you are unwilling, then it cannot be helped,” said the squid. She raised the dagger overhead and took a breath. “I shall proceed as planned.”
Claire took a long look at the squid’s face before breathing a sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to him for you,” she grumbled under her breath as she magically yoinked Arciel away from her target. “Stupid bloodthirsty squid. Can’t even sort out her own stupid feelings.” The qiligon looked up at the fox and booped her on the nose. “Hurry up and warp us. Before I change my mind.”
“Mmk!” said the half-elf, with a beaming smile. She clapped her paws together and closed her eyes to focus on her magic. Three circles immediately formed beneath her, one to designate the coordinates, one to bypass the trial, and another to deny the necessity of a ritual. Before long, they came together to form a magical gate, a glowing hole in the fabric of reality linking the castle’s basement to a world of fairies and perverts.
Claire pursed her lips into a frown as she looked through the portal. On the other side was a familiar scene, a pair of worlds with one upside down and the other right beneath her feet. The sun had already set in Vel’khan, but Mirewood Meadow was still bright as day. The insects were humming, the ravens were chirping, and the frogs were croaking the morning away. Though it had been a long time since she had last seen it, she felt little in the way of nostalgia, only a wave of a familiar vexation.
Perhaps because of the way the celestial’s world was configured, its light remained strictly internal. Not a single one of the beams leaked beyond the doorway; the space outside was lit only by the glowing amoebic mess that marked its outer walls. It was a peculiarity that immediately drove the cat to approach. She extended a finger towards it, but Claire grabbed her by the scruff before she could enter.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” she frowned for a moment before suddenly perking up, her tail straight and her ears at attention. “Wait, is that the dungeon that Sylvia’s from?”
“Mhm!” said the fox. “It’s where I lived before I met Claire.”
“Oh…” The cat backed off immediately. She positioned herself behind the lyrkress, shrinking her body as best she could to obscure herself with the smaller girl’s frame. It was not just the feline that remained cautious. Arciel took a few steps back as well, eyeing the portal from afar with one hand on the wand buried in her hat.
“We’ll be back soon,” said the only humanoid to step forward. “It shouldn’t be long.”
“Are you two sure you’ll be fine by yourselves?” asked Lia, with a gulp.
“Yup! Don’t worry, the monsters here are actually super weak,” said Sylvia. She took a deep breath as she hopped through the portal, happily gulping the familiar air back into her lungs. “Claire’s only almost gotten killed a few times.”
“T-that isn’t making them sound very weak,” squeaked the feline.
“I was level 20,” said the lyrkress. Claire paused briefly before passing through the rift. For a moment, she was concerned with the possibility that it would steal her levels again, but she soon recalled an entry that declared her immune to the trial’s effects. And as far as she could tell, Alfred had already acknowledged its completion.
“I do recall that Sylvia was from a dungeon of some sort, but I do not believe I was made privy to its identity,” said Arciel.
“Oh uhmm...” Natalya looked between the two royals, unsure of whether she was meant to speak its name.
“It’s Llystletein,” said Claire, unceremoniously.
“I see.” The squid was just as nonchalant at first, but her face slowly warped out of shape as the statement sank in. “You mean to say the hero-killer from the myths?”
“Yup!” said Sylvia. “Anyway, keeping this portal open eats a whole bunch of mana, and some of the gods’ll probably get really reeeaallly pissed if they find it, so we gotta go! We’ll be back soon!”
She waved happily at the gawking kraken, and then with another clap, closed the door behind her.
Chapter 264 - Cat Business III
“I must warn you, it is a grisly sight.”
Arciel voiced the warning as she arrived at a large, metal door. There were no holes or glass panels in its frame, nothing that aided in precisely determining its thickness, but its absurd weight was made clear regardless. Its handle was as thick as an arm, and each of the latches that kept it shut was made from a full sword’s worth of steel. There was something in the realm of a hundred locks adorning its frame, some made of metal, others formed of magic, all adding to its already ridiculous weight.
“We’ll be fine,” said Claire, with a roll of the eyes. “It’s not like we’ve never killed anything before.”
“Perhaps,” said the squid, with a forced smile. “But there exist many fates much worse than death.”
She raised a severed head to the door and pressed it against the bare steel. The various mechanisms whirled to life immediately; the magic circles spun, the chains retracted, and the locks twisted themselves out of shape. The door moved of its own accord as well, swinging wide open as soon as the final binding was disengaged.
On the other side of the barrier stood an average Vel’khanese prison. As per the national standard, it featured two types of cells. On the left were rooms constructed with terrestrial creatures in mind. Each had a small desk, a single chair, a bed, and a bucket, all barred off from the outside world with a series of enchanted metal poles. Sitting opposite them was a series of glass tanks meant for prisoners from the sea. They were inserted partially into the ground, with the top opening up to a small piece of land in the corner of each room. Magic circles were inscribed into the walls to serve as filtration systems. They filtered waste from the water and ensured that it was never deprived of air.
Unlike a Cadrian equivalent, which would have been kept sparkling and hygienic, the Vel’khanese gaol was a dingy, unmaintained mess with layers of dust caked onto every surface. The prisoners were likewise undignified. Many of them sitting in the corners of their cells, huddled up and unresponsive, eyes devoid of light. Their food rations, which often looked a few days old, were completely untouched, and the land-dwellers were practically stewing in their own waste. One of the dolphin-like inmates had even managed to drown in his pool, his bloated, rotting carcass floated up the surface for all the others to smell.
The girls continued squabbling about one thing or other whilst making their way down another three halls. At the end of the labyrinth, past all the various cells and holding pens, sat a musty wooden door. It was only waist high and featured a shape akin to that of a gate for small animals. There were several clear gaps in the wood, but all was obscured by a thin black veil.
Even with the cloth in their path, the conditions beyond were clear. There was a rancid stench wafting through the air, the sick, sour smell of something past due. Mingled in with the scents were thick juicy squelches, the sound of mud being ground against one’s toes, of flesh being squished and turned to paste.
When the curtain was pulled aside, the party was greeted by a series of pods. Their frames were made of wood; they looked like roots or vines with fungal membranes growing between them, each packed to bursting with a mix of flesh and fluid. Some of the roots transported the fluids in and out, with each featuring one particularly thick tendril that fed into a bucket by the door. The purified liquid was thick and white, and it was also present in large quantities within the pods. But in them, it was not alone. The milk was mixed with everything else, stained a sickly yellow-brown by the squids’ other secretions.
And it was in those secretions that they were bathed. Constantly. The pods contained nothing but bodies and unsanitary liquids, a veritable cesspool of insanity, sustained by the magic circle inscribed into the center of the room.
Without the healing spell, the squids’ continued existence was impossible. They would have succumbed immediately to the countless diseases that riddled their frames. Their skin was covered in warts—cancerous growths rejected from their bodies. Blood leaked from their pores, further polluting the visceral mess that had become their final habitat.
“Behold. The handiwork of a queen obsessed with justice.” Ciel spat the words as she waded through the room, whose floor was covered in the same corrupted vines that made up the pods, and approached the squid that sat in its center. She was the only one whose body was still intact, the one creature that shared the new queen’s underwater form, and the bud from which the greenery grew. It extended from the tips of her tentacles as several lines of blood constantly ran down her face, dripping from her various orifices. Her eyes were lifeless, like all the other prisoners, but her lips were constantly moving, uttering individual words in a flattened tone.
“Cell 3. Oxygen levels low. Adjusting. Cell 4. Fecal levels high. Adjusting. Cell 5. No flags raised. Adjustments omitted.”
She looped through each of the seven entries, over and over, repeating only the output designated by the spell carved into her face.
“This is my aunt,” said Arciel, after a deep breath. “The fool that took the whore into her harem.” She bent down and traced the sigil engraved into the older squid’s forehead. “Or at least all that remains. She is no longer capable of thought, reduced to a living machine by the leech’s machinations.”
“The Kaldysian Curse,” said Claire, as she eyed the brand.
“You know it?”
The half-snake nodded. “My teacher drilled it into me.” Claire paused for a moment to recall the pointless endeavour. Allegra had refused to lecture her on any other topic until she was able to recite the seven divine curses and their precise functions. Of the seven, five were tame, more petty and spiteful than truly malicious. The Curse of Gnarm possessed its victims with the urge to flatulate when engaged in conversation, the Curse of Zalkon ensured ingrown nails, and the Curse of Ribbendam tickled the bottom of the target’s foot each time they took a step, and so on and so forth.
It was only the last two that were of a truly malignant nature. The Kaldysian Curse replaced the person in question with a programmable doll made of their flesh, and the Final Curse forbade its victims from interacting with the ones they loved, for any such individual met with an affectionate caress would immediately perish on account of the curse god’s authority.
From an outsider’s perspective, the categorization was comical. The disparity between the first five and the last two was like night and day. But despite the apparent differences, they were not grouped without reason; divine curses were permanent, with no hope of removal. It was only Builledracht himself that could trigger them, and a high-level ritual mage that could entreat him to extend his hand.
“Then you must also know the sole resolution.” The squid drew her blade from her hat. “I do not believe we are capable of offering them salvation. Disease is a weakness of my people. Once infected, it is difficult, if not impossible for us to be cured. Without this spell to sustain them, I see only a future wherein they perish.”
“Wait, doesn’t that make it like, really, really really risky for you to be here?” asked Sylvia.
“Perhaps,” said the queen. “But it is my duty to see my kin released from their suffering.” She turned for a moment to look at the fox. “I have long resolved myself to set them upon the path of ruin and walk with them until they are unable. But I must ask, might you, any of you, be aware of another solution?”
“Mmmmnnnn… hmmmmnnn…” Sylvia stood up on her hind legs and crossed her front paws.
“Your aunt cannot be saved,” said Claire. “Not even another god can break one of Builledracht’s divine curses.”
“Yeah, I dunno if we can do anything about her, but my great grandpa thingy might be able to help with the others?”
“Your great grandfather… thingy?” repeated the squid.
“Yeah! He’s a celestial and he’s really good at like making life and fixing people and stuff. But he’s a huge perv, and I dunno if he’s gonna help. Even if he does, he’ll probably ask for a whole bunch of favours in return.”
“Bad idea,” said Claire. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
She narrowed her eyes as she imagined the old man in question. Though she hadn’t seen him in months, she could easily imagine him cackling as he watched the conversation unfold, every wrinkle in his skin as clear as the last.
“I take it you are personally acquainted with this celestial, Claire?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh, come on! He’s not that bad! I mean, sure he’s a little annoying, and he’s a bit of a perv, but he’s a really nice guy, I swear!”
“A bit?” Claire narrowed her eyes. “He pesters me with his delusional fantasies twice a week, sometimes in the middle of the night.”
“I-I know it sounds bad, but that’s probably just ‘cause he likes you.”
“It doesn’t sound bad, it is bad. We’re not dealing with him. End of story.”
“If you are unwilling, then it cannot be helped,” said the squid. She raised the dagger overhead and took a breath. “I shall proceed as planned.”
Claire took a long look at the squid’s face before breathing a sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to him for you,” she grumbled under her breath as she magically yoinked Arciel away from her target. “Stupid bloodthirsty squid. Can’t even sort out her own stupid feelings.” The qiligon looked up at the fox and booped her on the nose. “Hurry up and warp us. Before I change my mind.”
“Mmk!” said the half-elf, with a beaming smile. She clapped her paws together and closed her eyes to focus on her magic. Three circles immediately formed beneath her, one to designate the coordinates, one to bypass the trial, and another to deny the necessity of a ritual. Before long, they came together to form a magical gate, a glowing hole in the fabric of reality linking the castle’s basement to a world of fairies and perverts.
Claire pursed her lips into a frown as she looked through the portal. On the other side was a familiar scene, a pair of worlds with one upside down and the other right beneath her feet. The sun had already set in Vel’khan, but Mirewood Meadow was still bright as day. The insects were humming, the ravens were chirping, and the frogs were croaking the morning away. Though it had been a long time since she had last seen it, she felt little in the way of nostalgia, only a wave of a familiar vexation.
Perhaps because of the way the celestial’s world was configured, its light remained strictly internal. Not a single one of the beams leaked beyond the doorway; the space outside was lit only by the glowing amoebic mess that marked its outer walls. It was a peculiarity that immediately drove the cat to approach. She extended a finger towards it, but Claire grabbed her by the scruff before she could enter.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” she frowned for a moment before suddenly perking up, her tail straight and her ears at attention. “Wait, is that the dungeon that Sylvia’s from?”
“Mhm!” said the fox. “It’s where I lived before I met Claire.”
“Oh…” The cat backed off immediately. She positioned herself behind the lyrkress, shrinking her body as best she could to obscure herself with the smaller girl’s frame. It was not just the feline that remained cautious. Arciel took a few steps back as well, eyeing the portal from afar with one hand on the wand buried in her hat.
“We’ll be back soon,” said the only humanoid to step forward. “It shouldn’t be long.”
“Are you two sure you’ll be fine by yourselves?” asked Lia, with a gulp.
“Yup! Don’t worry, the monsters here are actually super weak,” said Sylvia. She took a deep breath as she hopped through the portal, happily gulping the familiar air back into her lungs. “Claire’s only almost gotten killed a few times.”
“T-that isn’t making them sound very weak,” squeaked the feline.
“I was level 20,” said the lyrkress. Claire paused briefly before passing through the rift. For a moment, she was concerned with the possibility that it would steal her levels again, but she soon recalled an entry that declared her immune to the trial’s effects. And as far as she could tell, Alfred had already acknowledged its completion.
“I do recall that Sylvia was from a dungeon of some sort, but I do not believe I was made privy to its identity,” said Arciel.
“Oh uhmm...” Natalya looked between the two royals, unsure of whether she was meant to speak its name.
“It’s Llystletein,” said Claire, unceremoniously.
“I see.” The squid was just as nonchalant at first, but her face slowly warped out of shape as the statement sank in. “You mean to say the hero-killer from the myths?”
“Yup!” said Sylvia. “Anyway, keeping this portal open eats a whole bunch of mana, and some of the gods’ll probably get really reeeaallly pissed if they find it, so we gotta go! We’ll be back soon!”
She waved happily at the gawking kraken, and then with another clap, closed the door behind her.
