Toren Daen
Each time my foot came down, pain lanced up my leg. I didn't let my discomfort show on my face, pushing away the sensation. I plodded along next to Sevren Denoir, using my emblem as an intermittent crutch to support myself.
The ever-cloudy sky cast everything in a grim haze. The world was eerily silent this far up, no wind rushing through the sky. This zone felt dead, and not just from the corpses trailing hundreds of feet below us.
The whole Unblooded Party, the Aensgar Exiles, and what remained of the Twinfrosts slowly edged along a rooftop, no sound coming from our movements. Darrin and Hraedel took the lead, while our many shields kept around the perimeter. There was a vibrant tension to every step we took, a collective fear lacing our thoughts.
Darrin peered over the ledge as we reached it, scrutinizing the ground far below. Wordlessly, he gestured toward Jared and Jameson, who stood on standby for this exact reason.
The two mages stepped forward in unison, ready to enact our plans.
We couldn't risk traveling over the ground, so instead we used scaffolding in the sky. The two shields raised their hands, and I felt the mana in the air react. Slowly, a bridge began to form in front of them, a strange mix of metal and ice. It slowly layered over itself, arcing from our building to the nearest skyscraper.
I was reminded uncomfortably of the last time I witnessed these two create a bridge and the desperate struggle that ensued as the entire group was pursued by a horde of undead. I'd stayed behind, engaging my Phoenix Will to save Sevren Denoir from being crushed.
I winced, noting the strange sensation of my basilisk blood. I didn't think I had truly manifested my Vritra heritage. No, what had happened was something a couple of steps to the side of that.
The sense of my basilisk blood was unnerving. There was this hatred in my blood that clashed with my own senses and values, driving my emotions higher than I wanted. But it was closer to a force than the bare sentience the Will displayed.
I had to keep a constant grasp on the Will in my core. It… sensed, for lack of a better word, the basilisk blood in my veins. But Lady Dawn's Will wasn't nearly as out of control as the Vritra blood was, yet these two were like alkali metals and water. Utterly incompatible on a fundamental level.
The bridge finally connected to the other skyscraper across from us, metal and ice spreading out in a grasping lattice as it anchored itself silently. Our group waited for one tense moment, fear and indecision pushing at our heels. Then, at Hraedel and Darrin's direction, we crossed over swiftly. I spared a glance downward at the streets below.
As I'd adapted to my telekinesis rune in this new world, one of the chief things I needed to conquer was my fear of heights. I didn't fear heights as some people did, but what I considered 'normal' was heavily recontextualized by my ability to strengthen my body and fall from a dozen feet in the air without consequences. As I trained in the Clarwood Forest, and indeed even in this zone, I gradually wore away the nervousness I'd instinctually feel around a great ledge.
Yet as I stared at the ground hundreds of feet beneath me, I realized there was another aspect of heights I hadn't desensitized myself to. Because when one was hundreds of feet in the air, it gave you a special perspective of the streets.
Hundreds of undead milled about like ants, moving in a disjointed swirl of rotting limbs and broken bodies. There was a turbulent flow to how those things shifted, a strange domino effect of corpses tripping each other one after the other. I remembered a time in my previous life when hundreds of football fans stood in a cascading wave, creating a unique effect from afar.
This was like a disjointed, broken version of that. A sea of grey churned down below, and I could almost imagine the scent of rotting flesh and hear the broken groans of the undead.
I wasn't afraid of falling. Yet I felt so small in the face of this sky-borne perspective.
"Come on," Sevren Denoir said, pulling on my shoulder. I had to pry my eyes away from the bodies down below, forcing myself to follow the path laid out for us. "Eyes forward, Toren. Can't have you stalling."
A quick purview showed most of the group was similarly disturbed by the sight. Alandra stood near the forefront of the group, holding her strange fire map that indicated how close we were to the exit portal. And as we got closer, the density of bodies increased exponentially.
As our group reached the next building, Darrin smashed a hole in the window. He peered in, turning both ways, then stepped in. The rest of us followed shortly.
Darrin turned to Alandra, who let her spell extinguish in a flash.
"Dima, Jana, Bered, Numar, and Toren: I need all of you here. We need to sweep the floor for the undead." Darrin gave Hraedel a glance. "Anything to add?"
Hraedel huffed. "Don't let them know you're there, Ordin," he said. "And get back quick. We'll only have so much time."
I forced myself to pick up my pace, following after the small strike squad Darrin had gathered to eliminate any undead we found in our path. We moved forward quickly, darting through corridors and through office spaces.
I stuck close to the strikers, muffling any noise they made as they cut down the small clusters of undead we came across. We couldn't afford to let a single sound escape, lest the monsters awaken and rush us.
Bered swung his mace in an upward strike. The metal obliterated a lurching zombie's skull in a spray of viscera, painting the once-pristine floors red. I could hear the crack of bone and the squelch of flesh, yet none of those sounds left our perimeter. When they reached the edge of my sound barrier, they were shredded into nothingness.
An instant later, Numar vaulted over his brother's shoulder, spearing an elite zombie through with his sword. It growled as it was impaled, grasping for his face. Yet Bered was a step behind, sending his mace to the side in an arc. Another rotting head was cratered by the steel.
I raised a hand, concentrating a dozen fireballs around me. With a bare moment to aim, I brought my hand down, sending my spells forward like an officer ordering a cavalry charge. Searing orange streaks engulfed undead wherever they went, the dry undead bodies going up like kindling.
An onslaught of deep fire approached me from the side, funneled by the slim hallway we found ourselves in. I thrust my hand to the side, the warmth of my emblem guiding me. A flare of white engulfed the oncoming fire, the pressure forcing it to the side. The spell smashed through a wall, searing the floor and making the structure creak.
Promise lurched out of its sheath, zipping toward the few elites who had worked together to conjure that spell. It embedded itself in one of the zombies' chests, shearing right past an impromptu mana barrier. The undead dropped.
Then the remaining creatures did something I didn't expect. They glared at me through purple pits, then turned and began to run.
No! I thought, immediately understanding what would happen if they escaped. The zombies acted on some sort of area-wide radar that was activated by sound. But if these corpses escaped and made a ruckus around other undead…
I threw a burst of fireshot at the fleeing creatures as they ducked around a corner. The spray of solid fire punched through the concrete supports they'd grasped at for cover, small bits of flame peppering their bodies. One of them went down, a coin-sized hole seared right into its forehead. The other, however, continued to try and escape.
I gritted my teeth, then slammed my telekinesis down on the floor. I lurched forward, Oath whipping from my sheath. I stumbled as my foot hit the floor, the muscle buckling from the sudden pain. I ignored it, using telekinesis to yank Promise from the desiccated corpse it had impaled.
Promise zipped forward once more, drawing a line across the elite's legs. The torso toppled forward as its legs were cut off, yet the undead was undeterred from what would have otherwise been a mortal wound. Its broken nails dug into the floor beneath us, attempting to drag itself forward.
Oath severed its skull soon after as I exhaled. As the deformed head tumbled from decrepit shoulders, I allowed my own shoulders to slump.
With every use of mana, my basilisk blood became harder to contain. It was like feeding an explosion with more kerosene, further fueling its effects. I didn't know how–if ever–I could find a way to pacify the thing in my veins. But that was a problem I could only face once I left the Relictombs.
I looked down. A fresh spot of red was seeping through my bandages, my wound aggravated by my recent scuffle. I hissed through clenched teeth as I used Oath for support, turning slowly toward where I'd left Bered and Numar.
My eyes widened in alarm. Another zombie–one far in the opposite direction of where I'd dashed–was rushing towards a stairwell. It was going to reach the edge of my sound barrier soon, and then there'd be no way to stop it from making noise.
I cycled through a dozen ways I could reach the corpse. I could propel myself forward with telekinesis and piston stamp, yet my mobility was hampered by my wounded leg. I quickly settled on a solution. I wouldn't be able to reach the zombie in time with my wounded leg, but…
I cocked my arm back, gripping Promise's marred edge between several fingers. I lined up my sights, prepping my telekinesis emblem. I readied myself to throw the single-edged dagger, the red-layered blade hungry for another kill. I couldn't afford to be a hair off in my aim: either the head or the heart, with no in-between.
Then something unexpected happened. A weapon flashed in the low electric light, cutting off the zombie's escape. Numar stood in its path, drawing his sword up to defend against a downward cut from a conjured icy blade.
Bered stormed through a bare moment later as his brother held off the undead, a flash of dark, silver-streaked hair. His mace blow sent the undead tumbling back whence it came. It scrambled for purchase, ignoring the brutal cave-in around its chest. Numar was faster, maneuvering around his brother and bringing his sword down onto its face. Two brutal chops later, the undead stopped moving.
I slowly lowered Promise. Numar looked up from his kill, a savage cast to his face. It slowly melted away as we locked eyes. He turned away, marching off with his brother.
I worldlessly began to hobble after them, maintaining my wide-area sound bubble. I watched the two young teens plod forward in front of me. The twins had changed since the death of Alun. I suspected the man acted as a pillar of support to the two, even if they had regularly abused the poor man. To watch him be killed by what was once their own teammate had shaken something in them deeply.
They didn't posture quite like before. Their masks had cracked, leaving only the necessity of survival. And in the wake of their last outward pillar of support, the two had turned to what was most familiar: each other.
I found in them a grim reflection of my past relationship with Norgan. It was something I understood, and I think they saw that understanding in me, too.
After the twins and I confirmed there were no other undead nearby, we began to return to the main group. Along the way, Jana and Dima met back up with us. Jana gave my leg a worried look, which I silently dismissed with a shake of my head. We had greater things to worry about than my wounds.
When we reached Darrin, it was to see him pacing nervously in front of a wide window, the rest of the party milling uncomfortably behind him.
"Good to see you all in one piece," he said, visibly relieved. "Tell me you have good news," he added.
"The undead are all cleared from our path," I said, standing at the forefront of this group. "But they're acting strangely. Outside our normal predictions."
The leader of the Unblooded Party gave the rest of our little strike force a cursory glance. He seemed to hold his breath."What did they do?"
"They seemed to use tactics," Bered said quietly, looking toward me quickly. "They tried to lure Lord Daen away from a stray undead, allowing that particular one to escape his bubble."
"Do you think there is a commander nearby?" Darrin asked. "Giving them directions and goals?"
Most of the attention returned to me. After all, I'd been the one to fight the last commander. I was the expert, if there could be such a thing.
"There isn't one," I said with certainty. When the commanders leveraged control over the undead legions, the ambient mana warped under their intent. I'd gradually realized that the other mages I traveled with were unable to sense how the ambient mana reacted to intent quite like I could. "The commander cast a strange spell to take control of the undead. I didn't sense the same effects here."
"Do you have any theories as to what's happening, then?" Darrin asked.
I paused for a moment. "I don't know," I replied. "It was only the elites we faced who acted erratic. Those always did act more deliberate, at least to my eyes."
"Elites?" Darrin said, testing the word. "I think I see what you mean."
"The ones we faced," Dima spoke up, "Seemed to react to us with greater intelligence than before. Are you certain there was no commander, Daen?"
"Yes," I replied. "Though I'm not sure what's changed. Maybe they're simply learning. Truth be told, there's a lot we don't know about this zone still."
There was a brief lull in the conversation before Darrin spoke up again. "Alright. We're most of the way to the lake now. But I've got to warn you, it's quite the sight."
From all Darrin had spoken of this end-of-zone lake, I was cautiously worried about what we might face. He hadn't gotten too good of a look before he was unable to continue onward.
Our group continued our cautious trek onward for a couple more hours. Each time we entered a new building, I would join a small strike team and eliminate any undead we found in our path. The elites we faced showed basic tactics and planning just as the ones before, yet they became predictable before long.
As we moved from building to building, I got bare glimpses of the area beyond. I knew we were getting closer to the lake from the sudden lack of buildings after a certain point. But the other odd occurrence was in the drop-off of undead numbers.
Where on approach they numbered easily in the thousands, the last few skyscrapers barely had any patrolling around. On the streets below, their numbers thinned. It was another oddity to add to the strange reactions of the elites. This shift in expected behavior, especially so close to the end of the road, made the hair on my arms stand on end. There was something eerily wrong about this.
I trailed behind the shields as we neared the last window. I knew it would look directly out onto the lake Darrin had warned us of what felt like ages ago. The mages in front of me were gaping silently out, staring at something I couldn't yet see.
I frowned, feeling that worry spike. I wordlessly jostled my way past Hraedel, who didn't even seem to notice my intrusion.
And I immediately understood why.
I stared out the window over the wide expanse, working my jaw. The still water of the lake was easily a mile in diameter, reaching far into the distance. It was ringed by hundreds of yawning steel buildings, skyscrapers competing to brush the clouds with their metal tips. Yet they were all overshadowed.
For at the center of the lake was a looming spire atop a small island. It thrust into the sky like a spear, easily twice as tall as the largest building I'd seen in this zone. All around me, the other mages glued their eyes to the monument of steel with slack jaws, awed at its majesty. It cast a long, dark shadow, as if there were a sun blazing down overhead. The island it rested upon seemed far too small to support such a colossal structure, like a single man holding up the weight of the world.
"How?" I heard someone whisper. I didn't know who, my mind having stuttered to a halt at witnessing the tower. "If they could make something so grand, how did the asura ever destroy the ancient mages?"
I vacantly wondered the same thing. If the djinn had such utter mastery of the mind, of the soul, that they could take what I saw before me from my memory, how did the Indrath Clan ever pose a threat to them?
Because the central spire of the vast, mirror-like surface of the lake was familiar. Uncountable windows dotted the skyscraper in rows, going up in a steadily tapering sequence. Yet I didn't need to count to know that building had one hundred and two floors exactly. The design emphasized vertical lines, giving a sense of scale to all who watched from afar. A thin, needlelike spire topped the building like a cherry, one final push to the clouds.
A perfect replica of the Empire State Building waited for me, entirely separate from its world of origin.