As Dabria and Visha made their way back toward the Crimson Lions, their steps unhurried, the oppressive miasma swirled lazily around their boots. Visha had just finished tucking her black notebook back into her spatial ring, her expression calm and detached, her sharp mind already cataloging potential applications for the deadly flora she had encountered. Beside her, Dabria hummed a faint, eerie tune under her breath, her dark eyes alight with a playful yet menacing glimmer.
The pair emerged from the mist like shadows stepping into the light, their movements graceful and deliberate. As they drew closer to the group, it didn't take long for them to notice the Crimson Lions' state. Sitting near the marble statue of the grieving maiden, the Hunters looked visibly worse than they had earlier. Their skin had turned an alarming shade of pale, their veins faintly visible beneath the surface. Their eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles, and their postures were slouched, their energy clearly sapped by the toxic air.
Dabria tilted her head, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh my, they look dreadful, don't they?" she whispered, her voice carrying a note of mockery. "It's almost… tragic."
Visha's pale-green eyes swept over the group with clinical detachment. Her gaze lingered on each of them briefly, cataloging their symptoms. "The miasma is starting to break them down," she observed quietly, her voice devoid of concern. "Their stamina is draining, their immune systems are likely faltering, and their mental resistance is weakening. Typical effects of prolonged exposure."
Kade, noticing the pair's approach, raised his head with visible effort. His usually composed demeanor was strained, his voice hoarse as he tried to address them. "You two… look completely fine," he rasped, glaring at them with a mixture of envy and exasperation. "It's like this place doesn't even touch you."
Dabria gave him a wide, toothy smile, her dark hair cascading like a shadow as she leaned forward slightly. "Oh, it doesn't," she said, her tone mockingly sweet. "In fact, I'd say we're thriving. Isn't that right, Wifey?"
Visha's expression didn't change, but her smirk deepened just slightly as she crossed her arms. "This garden feels more like a sanctuary than a threat," she replied evenly. "But you? You're not built for this. None of you are."
Ryker, who had been sitting apart from the others, forced himself to stand, his tall frame swaying slightly as he steadied himself against the statue. His jaw clenched as he addressed them. "We'll manage," he said, though his tone lacked its usual strength. "But if you have any brilliant ideas about how to counteract this miasma, now would be the time."
Dabria twirled a strand of her raven-black hair, her expression mocking. "Oh, Guild Master, don't tell me you're struggling already. We've only just begun! Surely you Lions can handle a little poison."
Visha raised a hand slightly, silencing Dabria's playful jabs. Her gaze settled on Ryker, calm and calculating. "You need to move," she said bluntly. "Sitting here in the miasma, near a statue radiating sorrow and despair, will only accelerate the effects. You're already showing signs of early-stage miasmic poisoning."
Elias, his usually sharp mind dulled by exhaustion, frowned. "Miasmic poisoning?" he croaked. "How do we stop it?"
"You don't," Visha replied coldly. "You endure it until you find a safe zone—or you die. Your stamina, mental fortitude, and constitution determine how long you last."
Dabria, clearly enjoying the tension, leaned closer to the group, her dark eyes gleaming. "Of course, we could help you. Wifey's poisons and my little necrotic brews have their uses. But where's the fun in that if you don't even ask nicely?"
Ryker exhaled sharply, frustration flashing in his eyes. "If you've got something that can help, just say it."
Visha tapped her chin thoughtfully, as though considering his words. "I could create a short-term resistance potion using some of the flora I've cataloged," she said finally. "It won't cure the effects of the miasma, but it might buy you some time."
Dabria pouted playfully. "Always so practical, darling. Why not let them squirm a little longer?"
"Because if they collapse, they'll slow us down," Visha replied without hesitation. She turned back to Ryker, her smirk returning. "I'll need a few minutes and some privacy. Gather what strength you have left and keep moving. There's no time to waste."
Kalum, his face pale and his breathing labored, forced himself to his feet. "Why… why are you so unaffected?" he asked weakly, his voice breaking slightly. "What… makes you immune?"
Dabria's grin widened as she placed a hand on her chest dramatically. "Oh, sweet Kalum. Immunity isn't the word. This miasma? This despair? It feeds us. It's in our nature."
Visha's voice was calm, almost indifferent. "This place was designed to destroy people like you. People who cling to hope. But for us? Hope died a long time ago. The Garden of Achlys is simply… comfortable."
Her words hung in the air like a dark truth, and for a moment, the group could only stare at the two women, who seemed as untouchable as the gods themselves. Then, without another word, Visha gestured for the group to move forward, her cold gaze settling on the fog ahead.
"Let's go," she said flatly. "The Core isn't going to wait, and neither am I."
The group pressed on through the twisted beauty of the Garden of Achlys, the oppressive miasma swirling thicker with every step. Visha and Dabria led the way, unbothered by the weight of the air, while the Crimson Lions trudged behind, their faces pale and their breaths labored. The once vibrant golden flowers the garden had been known for were replaced entirely by dark, poisonous blooms, their petals shimmering with toxic dew. The marble statues became more grotesque, their expressions of grief now warped into twisted agony.
It wasn't long before they stumbled upon a new obstacle: a massive stone staircase descending into the earth. The staircase was carved from black marble, its steps gleaming faintly with a sheen of what appeared to be condensation—or perhaps something more sinister. A faint glow emanated from below, pulsating in time with a deep, rhythmic hum that vibrated through the ground, like the heartbeat of something alive.
The base of the stairs was shrouded in thick miasma, denser than any they'd seen so far. The air around the entrance felt different, heavier, as if it were laced with an unseen menace. The walls on either side of the staircase were lined with intricate carvings—depictions of weeping angels and writhing shadows, their forms intertwining in a macabre dance of despair.
Ryker stepped forward, his brows furrowing as he studied the staircase. "This wasn't marked on the dungeon map," he said, his voice heavy with suspicion. "If we go down there, we're flying blind."
Dabria giggled softly, her voice echoing in the stillness. "Blind, perhaps, but isn't that part of the fun? Secrets lie in the dark, Guild Master. And I do so love uncovering secrets."
Visha stood at the edge of the staircase, her pale-green eyes narrowing slightly as she surveyed the descent. "The miasma is stronger down there," she observed calmly. "If this is the source of the corruption, it's likely we'll find the Core—or at least something worth investigating."
Kalum, his face pale but determined, glanced toward the path ahead. "What about continuing forward? There's no guarantee the Core is down there. We might waste time."
Elias adjusted his glasses, his voice weak but thoughtful. "The glow from below… it's faint, but it's similar to what we've seen around high-energy dungeon nodes. If we're looking for the heart of the corruption, this might be it."
Talia frowned, shifting uneasily. "Or it could be a trap. Something to draw us in deeper."
Visha looked over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Of course, it could be a trap. This is a dungeon designed by a goddess of poison and despair. Every choice we make is a gamble. But staying out here guarantees nothing but a slow death for most of you."
Dabria twirled her hair between her fingers, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I do hope it's a trap. Traps are so much more exciting than just marching forward."
Ryker took a deep breath, glancing between the staircase and the path ahead. His instincts screamed caution, but the group's deteriorating condition left little room for indecision. The miasma was only growing stronger the farther they moved into the garden, and the staircase, while foreboding, offered a chance to confront the source directly.
"We're taking the stairs," Ryker said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If this leads to the Core, we need to deal with it now. We can't afford to waste any more time."
Visha, already a step ahead, paused and glanced toward the twisting miasma above them. "I'll have my basilisk continue to explore this floor of the garden," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's been wandering through some kind of chamber for the past hour now, eating the man-eating plants. Such a glutton, my new pet is." Her voice carried the faintest edge of amusement, though her expression remained cold and distant.
Ryker frowned, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. "Wait," he called after her. "How can you tell what the alpha basilisk has been doing? We haven't seen it since we arrived in this damned place."
Visha didn't bother looking back, her steps light and unhurried as she descended the staircase. "Simple," she replied flippantly, her voice echoing slightly in the tight space. "[Shared Sight] skill."
The group exchanged confused glances before Kalum spoke up, his voice weak but curious. "[Shared Sight]... is that some kind of tracking ability?"
Dabria giggled from behind them, leaning casually against the marble railing as though this was all a game. "Oh, it's more than just tracking, darling. Wifey's little skill lets her see exactly what her pet sees, feel what it feels. It's a charming little bond, isn't it, Visha?"
Visha gave a faint smirk as she continued down the stairs. "Useful, more than charming," she corrected. "With [Shared Sight], I can monitor its movements, assess threats, and even direct it when necessary. Right now, it's clearing the way above while we take care of what lies below."
Kalum let out a low whistle, impressed despite himself. "So it's… like having a scout, but it's a massive venomous basilisk?"
"Essentially," Visha said without turning around, her voice indifferent. "Though I doubt any of you could handle the mental strain of maintaining such a link. It's not exactly… pleasant."
Ryker's scowl deepened, his distrust of the basilisk—and Visha—evident. "And you're confident it won't turn on us?"
"Entirely," Visha replied smoothly. "It knows who its master is. You'd be wise to remember that, too."
Dabria let out a delighted laugh, skipping down a step to catch up with Visha. "Oh, Wifey, you always know how to keep things interesting. I do hope your pet finds something fun upstairs while we have all the fun down here."
The rest of the Crimson Lions followed reluctantly, the weight of the oppressive miasma and the new revelation about Visha's connection to the basilisk only adding to their unease. As they descended deeper into the unknown, the rhythmic hum from below grew louder, and the glow from the chamber ahead painted the steps in faint, sickly shades of green.
Kalum's voice broke the heavy silence again, softer this time. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you two."
Dabria turned her head slightly, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, darling, that's the best part. We're not meant to be understood. Just appreciated… from a safe distance."
Visha said nothing, her focus fixed ahead, but the faintest smirk lingered on her lips as they stepped into the chamber below.
As the group reached the final step of the marble staircase, the air shifted. The miasma thinned slightly, replaced by a faintly sweet and rotting floral scent that clung to their senses. Before them stretched an otherworldly expanse: the Garden Labyrinth of Achlys. The air was still, almost too still, as though the labyrinth were waiting for their arrival.
A faint chime rang in their ears, followed by the cold, detached voice of the system.
System Notification: You have entered the Garden Labyrinth of Achlys. Beware the flora and fauna of the labyrinth. The pets of Achlys roam freely, guarding their mistress's secrets.
The labyrinth was breathtaking and terrifying all at once. Twisting pathways of cobblestone stretched out in various directions, bordered by towering walls of thick, violet foliage. The hedges seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, and the flowers adorning them glowed softly in shades of amethyst and jade. Towering trees shaped like arching spires loomed overhead, their branches stretching impossibly high and casting shifting shadows across the labyrinth.
In the center of the immediate area, a black wrought-iron gate stood slightly ajar, its intricate design resembling tangled vines and skeletal fingers. Beyond it, the path forked into three distinct directions, each path lined with peculiar flora that radiated faint but palpable energy.
To the left, a garden path was lined with enormous violet rose bushes, each bloom dripping with a strange, glowing ichor. To the right, the path narrowed between two walls of spiraling blue thistles, their tips sparking faintly with what appeared to be electrical energy. The center path was the widest, flanked by neatly manicured topiary statues shaped into grotesque forms—wolves, hounds, and other twisted creatures, their "fur" made of sharp, glistening leaves.
Dabria clapped her hands together, her voice filled with delighted wonder. "Oh, how charming! Achlys's pets are running wild, are they? I do hope we get to meet them soon. Don't you, Wifey?"
Visha's gaze was steady as she scanned the surroundings. Her voice was calm, her tone almost clinical. "The system didn't say what kind of pets Achlys keeps, but I doubt they're anything harmless." She pointed to the dripping rose bushes. "That ichor is likely venom. The thistles? Conductive. The air near them crackles with static. This labyrinth isn't just a maze—it's a death trap."
Ryker stepped forward, his weapon drawn, his expression grim. "Stay sharp, everyone. The system's warnings are never to be taken lightly." His voice carried authority, but there was no denying the tension in his stance. "We stick together. No one wanders off."
Kalum's eyes darted nervously between the paths, his hand gripping his dagger tightly. "If the pets of Achlys are anything like the miasma we've been dealing with, they'll be lethal before we even see them coming."
Elias adjusted his glasses, though his pale face betrayed his unease. "We need to choose a path. The longer we stay here, the more vulnerable we are."
Talia glanced at the twisting paths ahead, her usual humor replaced by a wary seriousness. "Left, right, or center? Any guesses on which one leads us closer to the Core?"
Ox grunted, hefting his ax over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter. Whatever comes at us, we fight through it."
Dabria chuckled softly, tilting her head as she studied the labyrinth. "Oh, Ox, so adorably direct as always. But this isn't just a fight; it's a puzzle. Achlys wouldn't make it easy. She's far too theatrical for that." She turned to Visha, a playful glint in her eyes. "What do you think, Wifey? Which way shall we go?"
Visha didn't answer immediately, her pale-green eyes narrowing as she activated [Pestilent Insight]. The air shifted around her as the skill illuminated faint traces of energy lingering in the paths ahead. She studied the faint glow of venom along the rose bushes, the crackling energy of the thistles, and the eerie stillness of the center path.
"The center," she said finally, her voice firm. "The pets will be drawn to the venom and electricity. The center path is likely a trap as well, but it's more direct. And the statues…" She paused, her gaze lingering on the grotesque topiaries. "They're watching us. Animated constructs, most likely."
Dabria clapped her hands again, her grin widening. "Oh, you're so clever, darling! Animated statues? How delightfully macabre."
Ryker nodded, his jaw set. "Then the center it is. Stay close and keep an eye on those statues. If they move, we cut them down."
The group stepped through the wrought-iron gate and onto the cobblestone path. The air seemed to grow heavier as they moved deeper into the labyrinth, the silence pressing down on them like a living thing. The topiary statues loomed on either side, their grotesque forms unnervingly lifelike.
Kalum's voice was barely above a whisper as he glanced at the nearest statue—a twisted wolf with jagged fangs and eyes that seemed to gleam faintly. "Are we sure they're not already moving?"
"They're waiting," Visha said calmly, her voice devoid of fear. "Achlys's pets are patient. They'll strike when we're vulnerable."
The rhythmic hum that had followed them down the staircase grew louder with each step, the energy in the air thickening until it was almost suffocating. The group pressed on, their weapons at the ready, as the labyrinth seemed to close in around them.
And then, with a low, guttural growl, the first topiary wolf stepped forward, its sharp leaves glinting like blades in the dim light. The labyrinth had come alive.