Before dawn broke, I was ready to venture the Abandoned Tower Dungeon.
Unlocking the Abandoned Tower Dungeon key within Avyanna's apartment would have been simple, but the risk of disturbing her slumber was too great.
The parking lot offered a more discreet solution.
"Leaving already, Alstair?" Avyanna mumbled, a drowsy protest muffled by the blanket she hastily pulled around her half-clad form.
"Yes, get back to sleep, Avyanna. You need your rest," I replied, a gentle wave accompanying my departure from her intimate space.
Her sleepy wave and yawn were my farewell as she drifted back into slumber.
My return to the parking lot was swift.
The pre-dawn quietude was my ally; the deserted lot bore witness to my solitary actions.
Retrieving the Key of the Abandoned Tower Dungeon from my system inventory, I initiated the activation sequence.
>Utilized Key of Abandoned Tower Dungeon!
>Magical Gate of Abandoned Tower Dungeon had opened!
A blinding flash of cerulean light erupted beside me, the system's notification barely registering before a magical gateway materialized.
I felt the potent authority of an S-rank Knight, empowered to traverse this mystical portal at will.
Stepping through the shimmering aperture, I emerged onto a stark stone platform, its only illumination provided by flickering torches.
A wave of intense scrutiny washed over me – countless eyes fixed upon my arrival. Landed into the stone beneath my feet, I saw a star-shaped emblem, a potent symbol of unknown significance.
The gazes I'd felt belonged to a multitude of beings resembling humans, yet distinctly otherworldly.
Their pointed ears, piercing green eyes, and flowing blonde hair identified them instantly: elves – and clearly, from their disgusted expression, are not the good one.
Their expressions were a mixture of stunned disbelief and utter dismay; my arrival was far from the anticipated outcome.
As the gateway's brilliance subsided, a chorus of murmurs and agitated whispers arose, laced with dejection and despair.
"What is this?!" a voice cried. "Is this the ancestor's response? A mere human?!"
Another voice, laced with betrayal, wailed, "Has the ritual failed? How could our ancestor forsake us?!"
Panic filled the air: "This is the end! The Orcish horde will annihilate us; this hope is false!"
Regardless their unexplained panic, as I observe more closely, those elves dressed in flowing robes and wielding magical staves, which indicate they were clearly elf mages.
One elf, however, stood apart – a male, armored like a knight, his sword drawn, his gaze sharp and predatory.
He advanced cautiously, his intent unmistakable.
A chilling cry from some of elves pierced the air: "Kill the human! They pose a grave threat!"
The elf knight Faelar, nodded grimly.
"Unfortunate for you, human, to be summoned to this realm. Prepare to face annihilation at my hand!" Faelar's voice dripped menace.
Those panic and threat with elf language, were comprehensible thanks to my system's translation.
As the knight braced to attack, I prepared my countermeasures.
A return-to-Earth spell offered a secure initial defense due to it's great casting time, but I envisioned amplifying its power with a magical enhancement to ensure a decisive victory against this hostile elf knight.
>Utilize Magical Magnification!
>Triple damage magic output ready to use!
I unleashed the Return to Earth spell, amplified by Magical Magnification, without a moment's hesitation.
Faelar, mid-charge, was instantly brought to his knees by the crushing weight of the augmented gravity.
A collective gasp rippled through the assembled elves as their champion, sword abandoned, suddenly kneeled down before me.
Faelar strained, teeth clenched, to rise, but the immense gravitational force pinned him to the ground.
Even the bolstering magic of his fellow elves proved insufficient; he crumpled, the earth cracking under the spell's immense pressure.
A fresh wave of fear washed over the elves, their faces mirroring the terror etched into the fractured stone.
If I do another cast, with the same magnification, would pulverize him—armor, flesh, and bone.
Should I end him?
The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, until a bolt of azure light erupted above Faelar.
A shimmering magical barrier materialized, momentarily shielding him from the crushing weight.
But the defense was fleeting, the barrier collapsing after a few agonizing seconds.
Sensing an encroaching surge of mana, I halted the spell.
"Stop! Please, stop this!" A woman's voice cut through the tension.
The powerful mana signature confirmed her presence.
She emerged—a striking blonde elf, her beauty arresting.
Her face, fresh and flawless, possessed a model's ethereal grace, her figure accentuated by the form-fitting attire beneath her short robe.
Even amongst the otherworldly beings of the monster realm, her elven features held an undeniable, captivating human-like allure.
"You're a sorcerer. I feel the strong mana coursing through you," she stated, her scepter poised protectively, guarding Faelar from my potential wrath.
"Sensing from the flow of your mana, I can feel similarities; the human sorcerers. And I've encountered human sorcerers bearing Zeta's curse before."
The woman words were familiar, echoing past encounters.
I recalled my duel with Meridia, the Ice Sorcerer, her mention of other humans wielding Zeta's power.
The mystery of the first human to master Zeta's system continued to fascinate me.
My memory flashed back to a human-like sorcerer I'd confronted in the Sea of Ice Dungeon—the Legendary Sorcerer.
"Is this your clan's… welcoming committee?" I asked, my tone laced with sardonic amusement.
"Or is there something else… weird in this chamber?"
"This isn't just some chamber, pathetic human! This is a sacred site of the Lythandor clan! Show some respect!" Faelar roared, his breath ragged, his fury barely contained by the crushing gravity.
The elf woman also feel agitated, but with more softer delivering words.
"This hallowed space is dedicated to our ancestors; we pray to their divine intervention," she stated, her gaze sharp. "Your sudden arrival during our sacred prayer is deeply unsettling."
I paused, observing the hushed reverence of the elves, their posture reflecting unquestioning obedience to the woman elf.
Even Faelar, the esteemed knight, knelt beside her, a testament to her authority. She was, as Faelar had indicated, the leader of this clan.
"My apologies," I offered, my tone carefully neutral. "My intent was not to disturb. However, before I depart, I must confirm: this is not the Abandoned Tower, is it?"
My question elicited visible confusion.
My system, however, confirmed my location: the 444th floor of the Abandoned Tower.
It weird enough since I hadn't traversed the 1st floor yet.
Or perhaps, this entire realm is a pocket dimension within the vast, monstrous realm, and the System's, for whatever reason it is, labelled it as '444th floor of Abandoned Tower'?
This elf enclave could be one part of such dimension.
Regardless, my objective remained: acquiring the miracle potion for my family.
No need to question furhter as lon as I can get what I need in this mysterious tower.
However, hearing my question, the elf woman's shriek pierced the silence.
"You know of the Abandoned Tower?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You are one of Zeta's apprentices! Like the legendary sorcerer himself! Oh, ancestors, is this your divine answer? To seek aid from the most formidable mage in all the realms?!"
A wave of murmurs, laced with suspicion and hostility, rippled through the assembled elves.
"I'm Sylvana Lythandor, leader of the Lythandor clan." the woman elf suddenly introduced herself formally, which I know she's being serious.
"Leader of the Lythandor clan?" I tries to confirmed, cutting through their agitated whispers.
Sylvana raised a hand, silencing the murmuring. "Indeed. And you, human? What's your name?"
"Alstair," I replied, my voice steady.
"I mean you no harm, unless provoked. My purpose is simple: to obtain the sacred spring water, essential for crafting the miracle potion." I produced the Secret Legendary Recovery Chalice, a shimmering artifact, from my System's inventory.
A collective gasp echoed through the assembled elves.
Sylvana's astonishment was palpable.
"That… that artifact! A relic thought lost to our ancestors!"
"I acquired it through my own venture, not by stealing or anything." I stated, my tone unwavering.
"All I need is a holy water in this realm. Now, do any of you know the location of this spring? If not, I shall depart."
Another flurry of hushed whispers ensued, their confusion amplified by the presence of the chalice, a symbol of my apparent connection to their heritage.
Minutes ticked by, yet none of the elves volunteered an answer.
Their silence suggested ignorance, leaving me to seek the information independently.
Then, Sylvana raised a hand, her intervention a sudden bloom in the tense atmosphere.
"Alstair," she announced, her voice laced with urgent concern, "I know the place you seek. It lies within the sacred grounds on this realm."
"Convenient," I replied smoothly, "Will you guide me?"
Sylvana hesitated, her gaze drifting between me and the still-kneeled down Faelor, exhausted to the point of collapse.
A long pause stretched before she finally spoke.
"I will," she declared, her tone hardening, "provided you aid my clan in reclaiming our power and liberty from the Vorgruth's iron grip. Vorgruth, a brutal orcish horde currently poised to annihilate our people."
An uproar erupted.
The elves protested forcefully, their objections a discordant of outraged whispers.
But Sylvana's sharp rebuke silenced them instantly.
With a forceful command, she quelled their dissent, her authority undeniable. Observing her grave expression, I sensed the depth of her desperation.
"So, prayer is your refuge in this dire and difficult situation?" I remarked casually, a deliberate provocation that ignited fresh outrage among the elves.
Again, Sylvana's voice cut through the rising tide of anger.
"Silence!" she thundered, bringing her scepter down with a resounding impact that sent tremors through the very ground.
Only Sylvana and I, shielded by the strength of our mana, remained unmoved by the seismic shock.
"Alright calm down, Sylvana. I'll help you to annihilate those orcs," I responded calmly, striving to ease the emerging tension.
But Sylvana's intense scrutiny remained unwavering, a palpable sense of foreboding hanging in the air.
"Though you are the ancestor-chosen sorcerer, and though you offer your assistance," she stated, her scepter now aimed directly at me, "I am bound by sacred ritual to test your worthiness."
Not just Sylvana, but the entire assembly of elves leveled their scepters, their magical might poised to unleash a devastating assault.
The impending attack was undeniable, a grim certainty confirmed by the system's stark notification.
>Quest Activated: Win the Trial of Lythandor!