Insomnia plagued me, its cause unknown.
Perhaps the previous night is too intense?
It's been a hours, I'd sat vigil beside Sylvana, her slumber peaceful in contrast to my restless state.
Dawn painted the sky a dusky violet through the window.
Amidst the beauty of the incoming morning, I just remember the special item that important for me to my next venture.
It was the red key, my passport to the Abandoned Tower Dungeon's upper levels, burned in my hand.
As a key on the Abandoned Tower, of course it will elevate me to the upper floor, but Sylvana's account of the holy spring on the 1111th floor painted a daunting and long expedition for me to get those holy water.
She'd mentioned the key's potential to transport one hundreds of floors, not merely one.
The crucial question loomed: how many keys would this arduous ascent demand?
"Alstair...?"
Sylvana's voice, faint and fragile, broke the silence.
Her sleepy countenance revealed the slight gap in her blankets, a glimpse of skin
I instantly registered.
She hastily adjusted the covers, a blush blooming across her cheeks as our eyes met.
"Good morning, Sylvana," I replied, my tone nonchalant as I displayed the key. "I have it. Thank you for your assistance."
She paused, her hand furtively exploring beneath the blanket. "Ah...yes. The ritual...we both..."
She trailed off, a hand self-consciously touching her chest, her blush deepening.
"Is something amiss? Are you injured?" I asked, rising and preparing to access a healing potion from my inventory.
"N-no! I'm fine! I was just...checking...something!" she stammered, her voice laced with shyness.
"Are you sure?" I pressed, and her nervous nod was a confirmation.
To witness the usually resolute, powerful leader of the Lythandor clan reduced to such blushing timidity was unexpected.
Had last night's ritual been excessively exhausting?
"With the key secured, I shall depart to the next level Abandoned Tower floor, Sylvana," I announced, my gaze fixed on the red key.
"W-wait!" Her voice was laced with apprehension.
"Are you certain you wish to leave immediately? Without further preparation?" "I've made the necessary preparations. The key is all I needed," I responded, maintaining a calm exterior.
Her silence spoke volumes.
I observed her trembling form and worried expression.
"May I accompany you?" Her unexpected question halted my departure.
"I believed you would remain here, attending to the devastation at your clan's temple," I questioned, surprised by her request.
"I can delegate that to Faeral. My only concern on this floor was the Vorgruth clan, and their defeat clears the path for my ascent, for vengeance," Sylvana declared, her voice grave and determined.
"Revenge, for your sister?" I asked, the details of her tale flickering in my memory.
Sylvana nodded, her gaze resolute.
"Indeed. I have unfinished business with Elanor. You'll inevitably encounter her on the upper levels; she commands the clan there, holding the key to your further ascent." Her justification resonated deeply with my own desperate need to save my family.
I acknowledged the validity of her quest, but I don't want involved too deeply on her personal vendetta.
Sylvana, a formidable sorceress adept at the Obsidian Sword spell, had placed her trust in me; I saw no reason to refuse her company.
"My objective remains unchanged, Sylvana," I declared, "reaching the 1111th floor I will get the holy water to form Miracle Potion for my family, no matter the cost. Provided your presence doesn't disrupting our progress, you are welcome to accompany me."
A palpable wave of relief washed over Sylvana.
"Thank you, Alstair. I possess intimate knowledge of that battlefield, which should prove advantageous in confronting Elanor," she stated gravely, seemingly oblivious to her current sexy dress.
"Excellent. Prepare yourself, Sylvana. We can hardly allow your sister and her forces to witness you… underdressed," I remarked, a playful teasing in my voice.
The implications of my words slowly dawned upon her, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she realized her state of undress.
Wordlessly, she enveloped herself in a blanket, her face ablaze with mortification.
Discretion dictated I grant her the privacy she needed to compose herself before our dangerous journey resumed.
***
The Lythandor temple, still choked with the debris of the Vorgruth orc onslaught, throbbed with the presence of the Lythandor elves.
Sylvana, her face etched with sorrow and steely resolve, announced her ascent to the upper levels – a pilgrimage of vengeance against Elanor's treachery.
A fervent tide of support surged from the Lythandor clan; their cheers echoing her unwavering commitment, even as she chose a solitary path, accompanied only by me, to Elanor's formidable palace.
While some, notably Faeral, yearned to join her perilous quest, Sylvana's decision remained resolute.
Having already entrusted the temple's arduous purification and the surrounding grounds to capable hands, she felt confident in her absence.
"Alstair," she declared, her voice ringing with finality after protracted farewells, "the moment has arrived. Let us proceed."
I offered a silent affirmation, retrieving the red key from the System's repository.
>Utilize the Key of 666th floor of Abandoned Tower!
>The gate toward 666th floor of Abandoned Tower had opened!
A system notification materialized, accompanied by a shimmering portal that materialized before us, revealing a spiraling staircase.
A staircase?
My query hung in the air.
Was ascension the key?
Sylvana's warning cut through my contemplation.
"The gateway is open, transporting us directly to a location under Elanor's tyrannical control. Be prepared, Alstair."
"No staircase then? I assumed an upward journey," I questioned, my curiosity piqued.
"That was merely a visual illusion," Sylvana clarified. "The portal offers instantaneous translocation. Elanor, renowned for her insidious magical manipulation, employs a devious enchantment, subtly coercing enemies into unquestioning servitude."
"So, no orcish presence in Elanor's stronghold?" I probed.
"Oh, there are orcs," she replied, "but they're subjugated, reduced to Elanor's slaves."
I absorbed this unsettling revelation.
The challenge loomed large, but Sylvana and I had devised a strategy for a secretive invasion.
We equipped special elven cloaks, imbued with an invisibility spell, a crucial tool for infiltration.
With resolute determination, we stepped into the portal.
A brilliant azure light engulfed us, the intensity yielding to a blinding white radiance, before depositing us in the town square.
Instantly, Sylvana activated our cloaks, shrouding us in invisible state.
The sudden dissonance of approaching footsteps felt like a jarring spatial displacement.
My initial assumption of elven patrols proved wrong.
Instead, a throng of orcs, each wielding axe, mace, or hammer, filled the square. Their gaze was keen, their vigilance palpable, as if guarding against some unseen threat.
Astonishingly, their eyes weren't the customary blood-red, but an emerald green, mirroring those of elves.
"Elanor's manipulative spell has warped them," Sylvana murmured, her voice a hushed whisper that answered my unspoken query.
Just like Sylvana said, those orc had lost it's nature to fight for their tribe, but forcefully become Elanor's slave.
As I done observing those orcs slave, my focus shifted to the surrounding buildings, sensing a flow of mana energy in there that go up rapidly in the sky.
The potent surge of magical energy emanating from them was unmistakable, a clear indicator of elven sorcerers at work, even though it located in the sky.
The sheer density of this arcane power confirmed my suspicions.
This was a formidable bastion indeed.
For a fleeting instant, barely a second, the illusion wavered.
I glimpsed several elves, momentarily stopped their invisible state, observing the town square from above.
Their method of moving was mesmerizing: they moved through the air, each step seemingly creating a tangible platform beneath their feet.
Sylvana, leaning close, explained, "Those are Elanor's sorcerous detachment. They maintain the orcs' subjugation under Elanor's enchantment. Besides their distinctive, flowing robes, they wear enchanted boots that generate ephemeral footholds, allowing aerial movement."
Just as I expected from my last observation.
Elanor's elven unit functioned as aerial sentinels, surveying their dominion from the heavens.
Sylvana continued, "This invisibility cloak facilitates our infiltration of the town, though Elanor's palace presents a formidable challenge due to her sorcerers' heightened vigilance. Alstair, perhaps we should meticulously observe and formulate our strategy before proceeding?"
I acknowledged the wisdom of her measured approach.
However, fate intervened in the form of a system notification, delivering a request so audacious, so breathtaking, it stole my breath away.