Bastian put his hand to his chin, thinking about it for a moment, "A field of steam? Alright. I'm still wondering, why did you choose me for this mission?"
The nobleman's eyebrow twitched as he was posed this question, running his fingertip along the rim of his porcelain before answering, "At first, I sent my own men to venture into that dungeon. As you might've guessed, none of them returned. You've built a name for yourself in clearing unconquered dungeons, so the process of selection was simple."
"What about him? He looks pretty strong to me…" Bastian remarked, looking at the stoic man that stood like a statue behind the nobleman.
From a single glance, the experienced adventurer could tell that the tan-skinned, unspoken man that stood guard was powerful. If it wasn't his intimidating stature, then it was the ruby insignia that dangled from his neck–the mark of a ruby-ranked adventurer.
Frederick smirked, "Claxous? He will be escorting you through the eleventh, but he will not accompany you into that dungeon. Worry not though, Claxous is my strongest man–he will not fail."
"I see," Bastian responded.
"I've heard you prefer to work alone. I assume that this will not be a problem?" Frederick asked.
Bastian nodded, "Yeah, perfect for me."
Immediately, the nobleman stood himself from the table as he adjusted his coat, "Fantastic. I'll leave it to you then, Dungeon Master."
With that, the high-born figure placed a white-and-black, checkered hat atop his head before walking towards a carriage parked on the busy street. It was a transport suited for one of such unashamed wealth, built of fine wood and decorated with velvet draped and opalescent steel that reinforced it, guided by small, but still larger than life dragons, dressed in golden armor that seemed wholly unnecessary.
Frederick stepped into the side of the carriage, resting his boot of fine leather atop the golden railing as he turned back briefly, "I bid you farewell, until the crystal is obtained. I do hope Claxous accompanies you kindly."
As those leaving words left the lips of the young nobleman, he vanished into the interior of the carriage before it was lifted from the street by the wings of the gold-plated dragons, carried off into the sky. It was a display of wealth that was unneeded, as if the man was above simply traveling by the streets of the city; it made it painstakingly clear to the adventurer what caliber of client he was dealing with.
'Guess I better do this right,' he thought.
Looking over, he found the stoic mercenary finally moving, turning towards the tower in the near distance, as if proving he was indeed a living, breathing person and not a statue painted like a pain.
"Let's go," Claxous said in a deep, strict tone.
Bastian stood up, quietly responding, "Alright."
As he followed the high-ranking mercenary through the path towards the Tower, there wasn't a single semblance of a conversation between them. It wasn't far until the pathway that led directly to the Tower of Yggdrasil, a finely-paved road, neighbored by two, quartz towers that heralded the short bridge that crossed over the glistening pool of water.
Guards were stationed by the bridge, dressed in their exuberant, platinum armor with spears in hand. As they approached, both of the men came to a stop. The hooded adventurer reached under his shirt, pulling out a silver insignia attached to the necklace he wore, while Claxous simply presented his ruby insignia.
"Pass," one of the guards said, moving aside.
Just like that, the two authorized individuals approached the boundless tower, passing by adventurers that came and went. Still, Bastian felt himself intrigued by the one accompanying him on his sensitive mission.
"So, you're a ruby rank? I guess the eleventh floor isn't a big deal to you, then," Bastian asked.
Claxous kept marching onward, not responding to the question until a few moments later, "Yeah."
Bastian could sense the tall, stoic man's indifference to conversation as he mumbled to himself, "Alright."
Together, they entered the Tower through its front entrance, going through the lobby and to a chamber towards the back of its base floor. There was a line of adventurers that stood before the room, growing shorter by the minute.
Every time someone entered the chamber, a humming sound swelled and vibrations whispered through the walls.
"Next!" The gray-bearded man in a black suit, outfitted with scarlet, leather armor called out for those in line to move forward.
It was their turn, prompting the two to walk up as Claxous spoke for them in his gruff, matter-of-fact voice, "The eleventh floor."
The elder gentleman nodded, adjusting an archaic wheel embedded into the wall that clicked with each movement. Runes were etched into the wall, finely tuned in symbols foreign to the young adventure. Though for the operator, it was done naturally as he moved the wheel to its proper slate.
"The Grand Ascent is ready. Best of luck, adventurers. May the fortune of the Divine be with you."
"Thanks," Bastian said in place of his companion.
After the mechanism of mystical origins had been set in place, they entered the room beyond: a cylinder chamber with a ringed platform.
As he stepped into the center of the platform of the dark room, the walls along with the floor he stood on began to glow with cerulean light that emitted from the carvings.
It hummed and began shaking before—FWOOSH.
The platform began to rapidly ascend, lifted as though carried by unseen winds.
It was a method of transportation he had used countless times, though the sensation of his stomach dropping as the platform rose was something that he always felt.
'The only kindness this Tower gives us. It lets us have a quick way into any floor that already has had its guardian defeated. Without it…I wouldn't want to imagine that,' he thought.
Claxous did not bat an eye, standing there once more like a brooding statue as the cerulean lights danced amidst the Grand Ascent and the blaring humming filled the area.
It only took a few moments before the glowing platform came to a sudden, but seamless stop, arriving in front of a large entrance of blackened stone.
"Stay behind me while we move through the floor. I'll handle the fighting," Claxous ordered without any room for discussion.
"Sure thing," Bastian accepted, already having a clear idea that the man accompanying him was going to be much more effective in a battle.
When it came to handling the dangers of the Tower, he knew better than to try and argue with the person who outranked him vastly, though it wasn't as if he took any issue with Claxous handling combat.
He followed the ruby-ranked mercenary into the following room, entering a vast chamber of pitch-black, ashen stone as if burnt by flames. It resembled fallen ruins, with charred pillars that held the ceiling above and corridors that led to different paths. Along the walls, torches that gave life to azure flames spread light to the quiet chamber.
'I've never been here myself. "The Onyx Graveyard"—that's what they call the eleventh floor. Not excited to find out why it's called that,' he thought.
Claxous walked without any sense of fear, though the same couldn't be said for the adventurer who followed behind him; Bastian found himself constantly looking side-to-side and over his shoulder at the smallest noises.
"You've been to the eleventh floor before?" Bastian asked, checking over his shoulder at the sound of sediment sprinkling onto the floor from above.
Claxous responded in his stone-like voice, "Yes."
"I've read about the Steel Cyclops that inhabit this floor—" Bastian mentioned.
"Don't worry about them. I've got combat handled," Claxous interrupted him sternly.
"Right. Yeah."
Though he had done some studying of his own on the eleventh floor in the past, it felt as though all of the research in the world couldn't prepare him for how suffocating of an environment it was; the air was thin and cold, and the presence of powerful entities on the floor made him almost feel entrapped.
'I don't like this. If worse comes to worst, I can use the cowl and make a quick run for an exit–but I have a feeling even that might not be so safe,' he thought.
Beyond the initial chamber was a long room of pitch-black, smooth stone, with tall pillars on both sides and odd, circular holes in the ground that held silver water. There were thin lines of the oddly-colored liquid that streamed from different points in the ceiling, though not overflowing onto the ground.
"Don't touch that liquid. It'll melt your flesh from your bone instantly," Claxous warned casually as he kept walking.
The information made Bastian jump back as one of the ever flowing streams was just beside him, taking himself away from its lethal composition.
"No kidding, huh," Bastian muttered under his breath as he looked at the silver liquid before moving along.
All that could be heard thus far was the echoing of their own footsteps, carried outward through the vast chamber. It resembled the innards of an ominous temple, painted by the scorn of flames, yet was somehow kept without erosion.
The area somewhat looked as though it could be man made architecture, though that notion was simply impossible by the odd texturing to the walls, as though the black stone was of flesh itself.
As they ventured through the lengthy room, which seemed to serve as a large corridor itself, a small noise was caught by the ears of the hooded adventurer as he came to a stop.
Claxous glanced behind him, "What're you doing?"
"Something's coming," Bastian replied in a hushed tone, moving his hand towards the dagger sheathed behind his back.