Chapter 324 - The Guardian of the Ironclad Abyss
“Halt!”
The captain of the royal guard brought the march to an abrupt end as the army reached its first destination. As per the sign, its name was Sunsand Beach, and it was a long stretch of sand with a distinct, yellow-brown hue. Colour aside, there was little about the area that stood out. They had been walking alongside the sea ever since they first set out; the long stretches of crushed shells and stones had occasionally been interrupted by the odd salty mangrove, but otherwise, it was all the same. The only landmark that Chloe could make out was a particularly large cave, carved into the side of a cliff.
They were barely three hours out from the capital, but it had already become something of a distant memory. The commander’s army-wide speed boost had allowed them to travel nearly thirty kilometers. That very same skill had kept the tiny brigade from tiring out, though it was largely the maids and mages that required the extra assistance. Most of the warriors appeared unbothered, perhaps with a light sweat on their skin at most.
“This location marks the first training ground,” said the commander, in his booming voice. “As outlined in your instructions, you will be forming parties of four, each with three combatants and a maid to attend to your needs. Parties that fail to return with maids perfectly intact will be disqualified immediately; their protection is your top priority. Be aware that your parties have already been decided and that substitutions will not be accepted. Come up front as your name is called. U’ula, Martine Lambert, Hugo…”
Chloe breathed a sigh as she watched over the boring formalities. One by one, the summoned groups approached a portable shrine and formed the parties demanded of them, and one by one, they vanished into the darkness.
Like all of the other maids, Chloe was already aware of her assignment, and like all the other maids, she was mildly annoyed. It wasn’t the danger that bothered her, but rather the fact that her services were required at all. In the first place, the maids were not the only housekeepers. The butlers could have easily shared in the responsibility, but some idiot or other had suggested that the fighters would feel more motivated if they had cute girls doing their chores, and a poll among the trainees soon confirmed that maids were strictly superior.
The rationale was clear. Female candidates preferred maids because they were uncomfortable with men handling their undergarments, and the males shared the preference because they were perpetually in rut. There's always the potential upside of finding one’s mate, as some of the other maids had noted, but Chloe was far from hopeful. It wasn’t as if she had no interest in men per se. She was simply more attracted to Arciel than she was to the opposite sex.
Even if she were to look for a husband, she was unlikely to find anyone suitable in the crowd. Rowdy soldiers and cocky, self-proclaimed heroes were completely outside the scope of her interests. An ideal male partner would have to be someone cold, distant, and domineering, perhaps like the man who had raised the moose standing behind the expedition’s commander.
His status as a widower was arguably icing on the cake, but she didn’t have enough time to fully consider the ramifications. As the third party’s attendant, she soon walked up to the stage and met with the rest of the team. According to her beloved queen, Chloe’s group was expected to be among the frontrunners, though the group’s outwards appearance gave no such indication. The first member was a wrinkly elven mage nearly too elderly to walk, while the other was a palm-sized rock with a disproportionately massive beard. Sophia, the last member, was known for her competence, but she didn’t exactly look the part of the archetypical warrior.
“Sophia Ray’esce, everglade landshark. Vanguard. Reporting for duty.” The prime minister’s heir was the first to introduce herself. She spoke in a cheerful tone, albeit one that was more professional than friendly.
“I’m Chloe. Human plus. I’ll be taking care of cooking, setting up camp, and other miscellaneous chores.” It was the standard first-level ascension. Unlike many other races, humans were unable to diversify right off the bat. It was only after acquiring their second that they could adapt to specific lifestyles and environments. Chloe, for her part, had hers all planned out. She was living in a vampire’s castle and drinking blood every evening to bolster her chances of becoming one with the night.
“Krail, greenwood high elf. I’m aware that I don’t quite look the part, but you can more or less think of me as an archer,” said the knife-ear, despite his lack of a bow.
“The name’s Enrique Garcia, and I’m best in a melee, but I can pretty much do whatever, depending on what we kill. I’m a Dwarven Mindrotter, so I’m pretty flexible.”
The rock was the last to introduce himself. Somehow, he spoke in a booming voice despite the lack of a throat, or really any organs at all. For his race, such was the norm. Dwarves were effectively creatures made of energy, with their beards serving as their true forms. Not all of them were quite as abstract as Enrique, however. It took three full ascensions for beard people to discard their flesh outright, and his particular subspecies was well known for infesting inanimate objects, though it remained a mystery as to why the man in question had chosen a pebble.
He was one of the few that Chloe had yet to see in combat. The rolling stone had refrained from sparring with the other candidates in public. The only impression he left was that of a lazy oaf; it was a mystery as to how he had found himself in a party of supposed frontrunners.
Whatever the case, it wouldn’t be long until she found out. Like all the other groups, they quickly formed a party and headed to the entrance, where the logistics department distributed their supplies. The task of carrying them, of course, fell onto the maids. Some groups were helpful, with candidates volunteering to handle the heavy burdens in their stead, but Chloe had no such luck. The rock was too small, the elf was too aged, and Sophia outright refused, stating that it would hinder her speed.
Left with no other choice, the human begrudgingly threw all two hundred pounds of equipment on her back, breathed a sigh, and approached the dungeon's entrance. She was about to step right in, as many of the other parties had done, but the elf grabbed her by the oversized knapsack and pulled her away before she could.
“Wait,” he said. “It’s much better to be cautious when it comes to times like these. I’ve seen far too many lose themselves to a lack of knowledge.” He coated his staff in a thin layer of mana, raised it to eye level, and lightly pushed it forward. Chloe had assumed that he was lighting the way, but the glowing stick only sent a ripple through the darkness. Apparently, it was something that the mage was able to interpret. His lips twisted into a scowl, the elf holstered his weapon, clicked his tongue, and turned to the mission's commander. “What the hell is the meaning of this absolute nonsense?” he asked, with a low grunt.
The knight returned an oblivious, entirely thoughtless stare, but the serpentine moose standing behind him met the question with an amicable smile. “It’s exactly what it looks like,” she said. “A trial.”
“You call this a trial!? Are you serious!? You’re practically begging for casualties at this rate! Never in all my years have I ever seen an instanced dungeon that goes as far as sep—”
"I’d rather you didn’t say the rest out loud." Claire grabbed the old man by the face and threw him straight into the dungeon before he could finish his thought, leaving only a distant scream as he vanished into the darkness.
There was a brief moment of silence, wherein everyone stared at the cave, followed by a wave of noise and murmurs.
"Does anyone else have any complaints?" she asked, with her smile still pristine. That, of course, only spurred even more muttering, with some discussing her ruthless methods, and others pointing out the ease with which the elf had been endowed with the miracle of flight. "Good. Now hurry it up. We don’t have all day." When the commander didn't immediately respond, she drove her foot into one of his tentacled legs and ground it until its colour changed. "I said, we don’t have all day."
"R-right," said Philippe, as he struggled to keep a straight face. "Next, we have the fourth party. Ace, Maurice..."
Smiling awkwardly, Chloe turned her eyes back towards the dungeon and marched straight inside. Claire had clearly ingrained the impression of an angry tyrant into the crowd, but knowing her personally, the maid could tell. She was far from angry. If anything, she was having fun, and that was all the more reason to escape the scene before the caldriess came up with another one of her crazy ideas.
The cave continued to dim as they ventured deeper. Neither the kelpfin nor the dwarf seemed to mind, but Chloe had to light a torch to better see through the darkness. The sand beneath her feet was quickly replaced by a thick layer of stone. It was greyer than the beach, but there were still hints of brown running through the walls, likely streaks of rusted iron. She half expected the cave to open up into a larger cavern, or perhaps to at least see the flames lit by the parties in front of and behind her, but strangely, there was nothing.
At least not until she was assaulted by a sudden dizzy spell.
Raising her head again, she found that the whole world had changed. The stone corridor was gone. She was standing instead on top of a cliff that overlooked a massive mausoleum. The building itself was even larger than the castle, with hundreds if not thousands of pillars on each of its six sides. Once white, the structure shone a dim grey beneath the faint moonlight, which somehow streamed in through the gapless rocks above. The brilliant beams only served to highlight the many creatures that wandered around the circular cemetery. They were all undead, with skeletons and zombies making up the bulk of the crowd. There were wraiths floating around the air as well, their ghastly wails echoing through the massive chamber as they drifted to and fro.
Chloe looked to the rest of the party when one of the spirits drew dangerously close, but no one was anywhere to be found. The only thing behind her was another piece of the wall. That was when it finally hit her. The elf had been complaining on her behalf. If everyone was scattered upon entry, then it would no doubt be the support mages and non-combatants that were in the most danger.
“Oh for gods’ sake! Claire!” She cursed the lyrkress with a whispered shout before opening her log and double-checking for relevant information.
Log Entry 14679
You have entered the dungeon known as The Ironclad Abyss.
This is one of my handcrafted trials, and it is of the standard variety. You may clear it by defeating the monster at the dungeon’s core.
The monsters that inhabit this dungeon typically reside within the level 400-500 range. More powerful monsters are expected to reach level 700, however, there is no limit to which this level may rise.
She groaned as she looked over the landscape again. A closer inspection revealed that the various skeletons and zombies were not just simple grunts. Though they had long decayed, the fleshier monsters’ robes had bits of embroidery worked into their hems. Likewise, many of their bonier cousins were wearing golden rings and equipped with fancy, bejewelled swords.
The various add-ons and accessories would have served to highlight their pasts had they truly risen from their graves, but as dungeon spawn, they were simply decorations, extra pieces added by the goddess to hint at their abilities. In either case, Chloe wanted nothing to do with any of them. She didn't know exactly what level they were, but she was willing to bet that the floating skeletons were liches, and not of the book-obsessed, friendly variety that could occasionally be found living among the blackroot elves.
With her relative inexperience in combat and her impressively low level, the maid had zero intention of picking a fight.
The smartest thing to do when lost in the middle of nowhere was to leave some indication of one’s presence and sit still, but the wraiths were getting too close for comfort; they were bound to find her if she sat around. Fortunately, there was a clear landmark in sight. She suspected that all the others would be making their way straight to the mausoleum, and at least from what she could tell, there was only a single entrance.
The path leading to it was a bit of a maze, however, with all sorts of twists and turns and far too many walls to count. Memorizing the layout was far beyond the scope of her capabilities—the maid forgot what she had hidden under her own skirt half the time—but she did have a secret weapon.
Strapped to her thigh was one of the trump cards distributed to each of her coworkers. The enchanted parchment was a real-time map of the dungeon, which featured everything from her present location to the monsters nearby. According to the instructions at least, she wasn't supposed to use it unless there was some sort of emergency, but as far as Chloe was concerned, the rule was more of a suggestion meant for less trying times.
A few minutes of planning later, she rose from her seat and set out for her destination. Her weapons were held in her hands. Like most other maids, Chloe specialized in the use of small arms, most notably daggers, needles, and hidden blades. As a whole, the maid class was akin to a mutated rogue, retaining even the bonuses to assassination. Stealth was the only thing missing. It had been replaced instead with boons that aided in the completion of household chores.
Cleaning up the undead was, unfortunately, not on the list of inclusions, and it was largely that bit of knowledge which drove the human to pretend she was a rogue. She slinked through the shadows, following her preplanned path as best she could as she tried her best to avoid combat. It almost looked like it was working. She got past a group of skeletons, a horde of zombies, and even a pack of wraiths by holding her breath and blending into the shadows. But there was only so long that her luck was able to last.
Poking her head around a corner, she found herself face-to-face with a crowned zombie. For a moment, neither of the two reacted. Chloe stayed still in hopes that it would fail to see her, while the zombie, on the other hand, was desperately connecting its half-rotten synapses to register the sudden stimulus.
The momentary dysfunction lasted for two seconds. For two, whole, magical seconds, it looked like time had stopped. But then the zombie opened its jaws. Grabbing her by the arms, it went straight for the head where her perverted but delicious mind was desperately deluding itself into a false sense of security. She barely dodged in time. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she somehow shook off the zombie and broke into a run. She didn't know or care where she was going. All that mattered was that the zombie was behind her, sprinting at nearly the same speed with its hands grasping and its tongue hanging from its jaw.
The panic completely offset the efforts she had put into avoiding her enemies. Everything in range of her screech suddenly swarmed towards her, attracted by the foreign sound.
“No! Stop! Go away! I didn’t sign up for this!” Chloe continued to scream as her feet pounded against the stone beneath her. She pushed as hard as she could in a desperate bid to escape the mob, which only continued to grow every time she rounded a corner.
Chapter 324 - The Guardian of the Ironclad Abyss
“Halt!”
The captain of the royal guard brought the march to an abrupt end as the army reached its first destination. As per the sign, its name was Sunsand Beach, and it was a long stretch of sand with a distinct, yellow-brown hue. Colour aside, there was little about the area that stood out. They had been walking alongside the sea ever since they first set out; the long stretches of crushed shells and stones had occasionally been interrupted by the odd salty mangrove, but otherwise, it was all the same. The only landmark that Chloe could make out was a particularly large cave, carved into the side of a cliff.
They were barely three hours out from the capital, but it had already become something of a distant memory. The commander’s army-wide speed boost had allowed them to travel nearly thirty kilometers. That very same skill had kept the tiny brigade from tiring out, though it was largely the maids and mages that required the extra assistance. Most of the warriors appeared unbothered, perhaps with a light sweat on their skin at most.
“This location marks the first training ground,” said the commander, in his booming voice. “As outlined in your instructions, you will be forming parties of four, each with three combatants and a maid to attend to your needs. Parties that fail to return with maids perfectly intact will be disqualified immediately; their protection is your top priority. Be aware that your parties have already been decided and that substitutions will not be accepted. Come up front as your name is called. U’ula, Martine Lambert, Hugo…”
Chloe breathed a sigh as she watched over the boring formalities. One by one, the summoned groups approached a portable shrine and formed the parties demanded of them, and one by one, they vanished into the darkness.
Like all of the other maids, Chloe was already aware of her assignment, and like all the other maids, she was mildly annoyed. It wasn’t the danger that bothered her, but rather the fact that her services were required at all. In the first place, the maids were not the only housekeepers. The butlers could have easily shared in the responsibility, but some idiot or other had suggested that the fighters would feel more motivated if they had cute girls doing their chores, and a poll among the trainees soon confirmed that maids were strictly superior.
The rationale was clear. Female candidates preferred maids because they were uncomfortable with men handling their undergarments, and the males shared the preference because they were perpetually in rut. There's always the potential upside of finding one’s mate, as some of the other maids had noted, but Chloe was far from hopeful. It wasn’t as if she had no interest in men per se. She was simply more attracted to Arciel than she was to the opposite sex.
Even if she were to look for a husband, she was unlikely to find anyone suitable in the crowd. Rowdy soldiers and cocky, self-proclaimed heroes were completely outside the scope of her interests. An ideal male partner would have to be someone cold, distant, and domineering, perhaps like the man who had raised the moose standing behind the expedition’s commander.
His status as a widower was arguably icing on the cake, but she didn’t have enough time to fully consider the ramifications. As the third party’s attendant, she soon walked up to the stage and met with the rest of the team. According to her beloved queen, Chloe’s group was expected to be among the frontrunners, though the group’s outwards appearance gave no such indication. The first member was a wrinkly elven mage nearly too elderly to walk, while the other was a palm-sized rock with a disproportionately massive beard. Sophia, the last member, was known for her competence, but she didn’t exactly look the part of the archetypical warrior.
“Sophia Ray’esce, everglade landshark. Vanguard. Reporting for duty.” The prime minister’s heir was the first to introduce herself. She spoke in a cheerful tone, albeit one that was more professional than friendly.
“I’m Chloe. Human plus. I’ll be taking care of cooking, setting up camp, and other miscellaneous chores.” It was the standard first-level ascension. Unlike many other races, humans were unable to diversify right off the bat. It was only after acquiring their second that they could adapt to specific lifestyles and environments. Chloe, for her part, had hers all planned out. She was living in a vampire’s castle and drinking blood every evening to bolster her chances of becoming one with the night.
“Krail, greenwood high elf. I’m aware that I don’t quite look the part, but you can more or less think of me as an archer,” said the knife-ear, despite his lack of a bow.
“The name’s Enrique Garcia, and I’m best in a melee, but I can pretty much do whatever, depending on what we kill. I’m a Dwarven Mindrotter, so I’m pretty flexible.”
The rock was the last to introduce himself. Somehow, he spoke in a booming voice despite the lack of a throat, or really any organs at all. For his race, such was the norm. Dwarves were effectively creatures made of energy, with their beards serving as their true forms. Not all of them were quite as abstract as Enrique, however. It took three full ascensions for beard people to discard their flesh outright, and his particular subspecies was well known for infesting inanimate objects, though it remained a mystery as to why the man in question had chosen a pebble.
He was one of the few that Chloe had yet to see in combat. The rolling stone had refrained from sparring with the other candidates in public. The only impression he left was that of a lazy oaf; it was a mystery as to how he had found himself in a party of supposed frontrunners.
Whatever the case, it wouldn’t be long until she found out. Like all the other groups, they quickly formed a party and headed to the entrance, where the logistics department distributed their supplies. The task of carrying them, of course, fell onto the maids. Some groups were helpful, with candidates volunteering to handle the heavy burdens in their stead, but Chloe had no such luck. The rock was too small, the elf was too aged, and Sophia outright refused, stating that it would hinder her speed.
Left with no other choice, the human begrudgingly threw all two hundred pounds of equipment on her back, breathed a sigh, and approached the dungeon's entrance. She was about to step right in, as many of the other parties had done, but the elf grabbed her by the oversized knapsack and pulled her away before she could.
“Wait,” he said. “It’s much better to be cautious when it comes to times like these. I’ve seen far too many lose themselves to a lack of knowledge.” He coated his staff in a thin layer of mana, raised it to eye level, and lightly pushed it forward. Chloe had assumed that he was lighting the way, but the glowing stick only sent a ripple through the darkness. Apparently, it was something that the mage was able to interpret. His lips twisted into a scowl, the elf holstered his weapon, clicked his tongue, and turned to the mission's commander. “What the hell is the meaning of this absolute nonsense?” he asked, with a low grunt.
The knight returned an oblivious, entirely thoughtless stare, but the serpentine moose standing behind him met the question with an amicable smile. “It’s exactly what it looks like,” she said. “A trial.”
“You call this a trial!? Are you serious!? You’re practically begging for casualties at this rate! Never in all my years have I ever seen an instanced dungeon that goes as far as sep—”
"I’d rather you didn’t say the rest out loud." Claire grabbed the old man by the face and threw him straight into the dungeon before he could finish his thought, leaving only a distant scream as he vanished into the darkness.
There was a brief moment of silence, wherein everyone stared at the cave, followed by a wave of noise and murmurs.
"Does anyone else have any complaints?" she asked, with her smile still pristine. That, of course, only spurred even more muttering, with some discussing her ruthless methods, and others pointing out the ease with which the elf had been endowed with the miracle of flight. "Good. Now hurry it up. We don’t have all day." When the commander didn't immediately respond, she drove her foot into one of his tentacled legs and ground it until its colour changed. "I said, we don’t have all day."
"R-right," said Philippe, as he struggled to keep a straight face. "Next, we have the fourth party. Ace, Maurice..."
Smiling awkwardly, Chloe turned her eyes back towards the dungeon and marched straight inside. Claire had clearly ingrained the impression of an angry tyrant into the crowd, but knowing her personally, the maid could tell. She was far from angry. If anything, she was having fun, and that was all the more reason to escape the scene before the caldriess came up with another one of her crazy ideas.
The cave continued to dim as they ventured deeper. Neither the kelpfin nor the dwarf seemed to mind, but Chloe had to light a torch to better see through the darkness. The sand beneath her feet was quickly replaced by a thick layer of stone. It was greyer than the beach, but there were still hints of brown running through the walls, likely streaks of rusted iron. She half expected the cave to open up into a larger cavern, or perhaps to at least see the flames lit by the parties in front of and behind her, but strangely, there was nothing.
At least not until she was assaulted by a sudden dizzy spell.
Raising her head again, she found that the whole world had changed. The stone corridor was gone. She was standing instead on top of a cliff that overlooked a massive mausoleum. The building itself was even larger than the castle, with hundreds if not thousands of pillars on each of its six sides. Once white, the structure shone a dim grey beneath the faint moonlight, which somehow streamed in through the gapless rocks above. The brilliant beams only served to highlight the many creatures that wandered around the circular cemetery. They were all undead, with skeletons and zombies making up the bulk of the crowd. There were wraiths floating around the air as well, their ghastly wails echoing through the massive chamber as they drifted to and fro.
Chloe looked to the rest of the party when one of the spirits drew dangerously close, but no one was anywhere to be found. The only thing behind her was another piece of the wall. That was when it finally hit her. The elf had been complaining on her behalf. If everyone was scattered upon entry, then it would no doubt be the support mages and non-combatants that were in the most danger.
“Oh for gods’ sake! Claire!” She cursed the lyrkress with a whispered shout before opening her log and double-checking for relevant information.
Log Entry 14679
You have entered the dungeon known as The Ironclad Abyss.
This is one of my handcrafted trials, and it is of the standard variety. You may clear it by defeating the monster at the dungeon’s core.
The monsters that inhabit this dungeon typically reside within the level 400-500 range. More powerful monsters are expected to reach level 700, however, there is no limit to which this level may rise.
She groaned as she looked over the landscape again. A closer inspection revealed that the various skeletons and zombies were not just simple grunts. Though they had long decayed, the fleshier monsters’ robes had bits of embroidery worked into their hems. Likewise, many of their bonier cousins were wearing golden rings and equipped with fancy, bejewelled swords.
The various add-ons and accessories would have served to highlight their pasts had they truly risen from their graves, but as dungeon spawn, they were simply decorations, extra pieces added by the goddess to hint at their abilities. In either case, Chloe wanted nothing to do with any of them. She didn't know exactly what level they were, but she was willing to bet that the floating skeletons were liches, and not of the book-obsessed, friendly variety that could occasionally be found living among the blackroot elves.
With her relative inexperience in combat and her impressively low level, the maid had zero intention of picking a fight.
The smartest thing to do when lost in the middle of nowhere was to leave some indication of one’s presence and sit still, but the wraiths were getting too close for comfort; they were bound to find her if she sat around. Fortunately, there was a clear landmark in sight. She suspected that all the others would be making their way straight to the mausoleum, and at least from what she could tell, there was only a single entrance.
The path leading to it was a bit of a maze, however, with all sorts of twists and turns and far too many walls to count. Memorizing the layout was far beyond the scope of her capabilities—the maid forgot what she had hidden under her own skirt half the time—but she did have a secret weapon.
Strapped to her thigh was one of the trump cards distributed to each of her coworkers. The enchanted parchment was a real-time map of the dungeon, which featured everything from her present location to the monsters nearby. According to the instructions at least, she wasn't supposed to use it unless there was some sort of emergency, but as far as Chloe was concerned, the rule was more of a suggestion meant for less trying times.
A few minutes of planning later, she rose from her seat and set out for her destination. Her weapons were held in her hands. Like most other maids, Chloe specialized in the use of small arms, most notably daggers, needles, and hidden blades. As a whole, the maid class was akin to a mutated rogue, retaining even the bonuses to assassination. Stealth was the only thing missing. It had been replaced instead with boons that aided in the completion of household chores.
Cleaning up the undead was, unfortunately, not on the list of inclusions, and it was largely that bit of knowledge which drove the human to pretend she was a rogue. She slinked through the shadows, following her preplanned path as best she could as she tried her best to avoid combat. It almost looked like it was working. She got past a group of skeletons, a horde of zombies, and even a pack of wraiths by holding her breath and blending into the shadows. But there was only so long that her luck was able to last.
Poking her head around a corner, she found herself face-to-face with a crowned zombie. For a moment, neither of the two reacted. Chloe stayed still in hopes that it would fail to see her, while the zombie, on the other hand, was desperately connecting its half-rotten synapses to register the sudden stimulus.
The momentary dysfunction lasted for two seconds. For two, whole, magical seconds, it looked like time had stopped. But then the zombie opened its jaws. Grabbing her by the arms, it went straight for the head where her perverted but delicious mind was desperately deluding itself into a false sense of security. She barely dodged in time. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she somehow shook off the zombie and broke into a run. She didn't know or care where she was going. All that mattered was that the zombie was behind her, sprinting at nearly the same speed with its hands grasping and its tongue hanging from its jaw.
The panic completely offset the efforts she had put into avoiding her enemies. Everything in range of her screech suddenly swarmed towards her, attracted by the foreign sound.
“No! Stop! Go away! I didn’t sign up for this!” Chloe continued to scream as her feet pounded against the stone beneath her. She pushed as hard as she could in a desperate bid to escape the mob, which only continued to grow every time she rounded a corner.
