The beetles didn’t leave much of a corpse when they died, as their bodies were blasted apart from the rough treatment, but among the mess of fluids and cracked shells, there was something worth taking.
Nick carefully stepped over a partially melted carcass and used his wind magic to split open the shell of a creature that had been killed cleanly. His wind blades gently separated the segments, exposing a tiny crystal, about the size of a thumb, embedded in the thorax.
“Another one,” he muttered, vanishing it into his ring. The further we go, the more common they become. It’s a good thing because my supply was almost empty, and these things make excellent ritual reagents.
By the time they finished, they had a sizable pile of cores and a much less acceptable smell clinging to their clothes. Luckily, the cleaning spell Willow had taught him was enough to eliminate the latter.
“Alright,” Raphael said, brushing dust off his hands. We shouldn’t stay here for too long; something else is going to find us, and it’s not a good position to fight in.”
No one argued, and they continued forward, leaving the empty nest behind.
The feeling of being watched hadn’t diminished after the beetles’ death. If anything, the domain’s gaze felt sharper now, and Nick realized that as they moved further, the dungeon could direct its creations more aggressively toward them.
It’s fortunate we're not meant to push into its core area. I doubt we could handle what we’d find there if this is the welcoming party on the outskirts.
They hadn’t walked for more than half an hour when trouble appeared again, this time from above.
These vultures were slightly smaller than the previous savannah flock, but there were more of them, and they used the canyon walls to swoop low, coating their talons in inky black energy that promised to be very annoying to get rid of if it reached them.
“Shields up!” Raphael barked.
Willow quickly created a thin barrier across the canyon, and the first two birds slammed beak-first into it, immediately cracking it thanks to the decaying properties of their magic.
Still, it gave the team enough time to counterattack.
Joran’s beads of green fire turned perching silhouettes on the walls into shrieking torches.
Nick was too irritated by the constant feeling of being watched to bother with finesse, so he simply flicked a series of compressed [Jet Streams] into the flapping mass, shredding wings and feathers, and providing the others with clear shots to take out the bulk of the monsters.
It was over in moments, with feathers drifting around them like dark snow.
“There are way too many encounters for this to still be the outer dungeon,” Willow muttered, eyeing the sky with suspicion, and Nick could do nothing but nod grimly.
Hours blurred together as they marched through the closed valleys, occasionally blasting packs of monsters that got too close and taking the least amount of time possible to harvest them.
Every once in a while, someone leveled up, making the slog worth it, but the picture coming together wasn’t of an overstretched dungeon, as they had hoped, but of one still full of resources.
They were nearing a bend when Nick’s senses tingled, and he froze mid-step.
“What is it?” Raphael asked instantly.
Nick took a moment to analyze what he was feeling. As they delved deeper, his senses grew increasingly foggy, and his once broad range was now cut in half, but with some focus, he could still make out details.
“There’s a group of presences ahead of us,” he said automatically. “About half a mile away.”
Every weapon came up on instinct, but he lifted his hand to stop them.
The shapes of the souls he was sensing seemed unusual for monsters. Their signatures weren’t jagged and hooked like werewolves, but smoother, each one unique in the way human souls tended to be.
“Wait,” he said. “It’s not monsters. Probably adventurers."
“Humans?” Monte asked skeptically. They’d yet to encounter another person thus far, so his doubt was understandable.
“Humans,” Nick confirmed. “They seem to be pretty strong, too.”
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It was difficult to determine the exact levels, especially at that distance and with the local interference, but he could roughly guess that they ranged from level fifty, all the way up to eighty, which would place the group above them in terms of raw numbers.
Raphael considered that for a moment. “Alright,” he decided. “It might be worth coordinating with them, since we’re getting closer to the inner area.”
“Just because they are humans doesn't mean they will be friendly,” Yvonne warned.
“We’ll find out quickly enough if that’s the case,” Raphael said. “Nicholas, lead us to them.”
Nick led the way, tracking the other group’s position through the ether. The canyon slowly widened, with the rock walls moving back to reveal a larger basin that was maybe two hundred yards across, where the other team had already started setting up.
Someone among them had carefully selected the spot where three canyon openings converged. Waist-high stone mounds were set up as firing positions, and a low, curved wall of stacked rocks formed a partial ring around a central tent area. Two rangers sat on elevated ledges, bows ready, while a stout woman in chainmail drove metal stakes into the ground at the entrances, inscribing basic wards on them.
“Halt!” one of the rangers shouted, pulling his bow to a half-drawn tension as he spotted them. “Identify yourselves!”
His voice was tense but not panicked, marking him as a professional.
Raphael raised his hands in a gesture of peace, but surprisingly, it was Terence who stepped forward.
“I am Terence Rohm,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly. “Nephew of Lord Rohm of Long Reach. These are my escorts.”
A subtle ripple spread through the camp at the name, and the woman with the stakes paused, eyes narrowing as she clearly sifted through old memories. Then her face cleared.
“Terence?” she called. “Terence Rohm?”
He squinted. “Lady Lara Kestrel?” he ventured.
She laughed. “Gods above, you’ve grown.”
The ranger’s bow dipped slightly, then fully lowered as the tension eased. He glanced at someone behind him and received a quick nod in response.
“Alright,” he said, relaxing. “You can approach. Slowly, if you don’t mind. We’ve had a long day.”
“Haven’t we all,” Monte muttered.
They crossed the rest of the distance at an easy walk, careful not to spook anyone.
The group consisted of about twelve individuals, each equipped with diverse armor and weapons, clearly demonstrating they were an experienced adventuring party. Nick could identify a couple of heavy frontliners, two robed spellcasters, three rangers, and several others with lighter gear, indicating they were likely rogues and scouts, the best types for this kind of environment.
The leader, the strongest of all, waited for them by the central firepit.
Nick had expected a fighter, since that was the most successful type among adventurers, but the man wore long, practical robes over a padded gambeson, with etched rings on his fingers and a medallion that hummed softly in the ether.
He was in his fifties, with a short-trimmed beard, salt-and-pepper hair, and a strong build, albeit slowed by some indulgences. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, indicating he often smiled, but his expression was guarded at this moment.
His aura was heavy and dense, enough to remind Nick of some of the less capable teachers at the Tower.
Definitely not someone to ignore. He’s at least level eighty, and I bet he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve, given his job choice.
“Terence Rohm, as you said?” The man asked, voice more curious than deferential.
Terence inclined his head politely. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m Calder Venn,” the man said. “Of the Sunlands Adventurer Association, and this is my team.”
Yvonne and Malik twitched in recognition at the name, and Nick made a note to find out what they knew later.
Introductions were brief, and Nick let them pass by him, only somewhat interested in memorizing the names. He was more focused on studying the camp's atmosphere.
Nothing seemed wrong. There were no hidden traps waiting for them, nor could he find any communication artifacts or anything that would make the team look suspicious.
Once he was done, he exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Of course, Calder still has a spatial ring, so he might be hiding just about anything, but at least they weren’t expecting us.
Lady Lara Kestrel was apparently from a minor branch of House Kestrel, a house just to the east of Long Reach, and although her lineage was noble, she seemed to be the most down-to-earth aristocrat Nick had ever met, as she slapped Terence on the back and teased him.
“I remember when you were still tripping over your own feet at your uncle’s autumn hunt a few years ago,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t expect to see you all the way out here.”
“Life’s taken some turns,” Terence admitted. “And the dungeon seemed like the place I had to be to make a name for myself.”
That’s a pretty good excuse. Most noble scions prefer to let their people do the hard work, but for those from secondary lines, adventuring can be a quick way to earn renown.
Meanwhile, Raphael and Calder moved slightly to the side. “You all seem to be mages. Where did you say you came from?” Calder asked, giving their group a quick look-over.
“Yes, we’ve been assigned to survey the northern part of the dungeon and make sure no tides are forming,” Raphael replied, intentionally avoiding the question.
Calder’s eyes flickered, and he clearly noticed the deflection but chose not to push further.
“What about you?” Raphael asked. “This seems a bit far from the southern towns.”
“We came from the east after the dungeon was declared open,” Calder said. “The King’s proclamation might have chased away the most powerful, since the core must be left undisturbed, but there’s still a lot of wealth and experience to be gained from exploring the outskirts.”
He made a small, sardonic gesture with one hand. “Not that most sane people would try their luck against a Prestige-rank Guardian anyway. Word is, this one’s something special.”
Nick’s ears pricked up at that, though he didn’t speak, and Raphael’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have intel on the Guardian?”
“Only rumors,” Calder shook his head. “The southern parties that probed deeper didn’t reach it, but they had a mage specialized in long-distance sensing, and apparently it's a mighty beast.”
“So you’re here to grow your party while solving a few quests?” Raphael guessed.
“Exactly,” Calder nodded, giving him a thoughtful look. “You must have seen the conditions of the northern hamlets. Down south, it’s even worse, as two towns almost drowned in mantises last month, and the east is much the same. The numbers don’t make sense for a dungeon that’s about to settle, so the quests are still coming in strong.”
“How many others are doing the same as you?” Raphael asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Calder admitted. “I know of three teams that were behind us, and I’ve heard of at least four more approaching from the southeast and south. I expect that by the end of the week, there will be twice that number, so try to get your licks in now.”
Raphael hummed in agreement before thanking the ranger who offered him a bowl of stew. Nick gave him a quick nod to show it was safe to eat, then dug into his own bowl.
Watches were coordinated between the two parties as they ate, with their group taking most of the bad ones as payment for being allowed into the camp.
The sky between the canyon walls darkened quickly, somehow showing fewer stars than in a city. It’s the damn domain. It thrives in the dark, and its influence is obscuring everything the further we go in.
Nick stretched his senses as far as he could, trying to parse through the obfuscation, but he couldn’t find any monsters approaching for once.
The others gradually fell asleep, though he could tell that no one really drifted off completely, all too alert because of the strangers among them.
He was about to make another sweep when something flashed in the corner of his awareness.
A flicker of mana passed by, too quick to be an actual spell, but still noticeable given how closely he had been watching.
It came from Calder’s tent.
Nick’s head snapped toward it, but by the time he focused, the magic was already gone. Whatever had been cast had lasted barely an instant, slipping past most people’s senses through sheer speed.
Not his, though. He replayed the feel of it in his mind, how the mana had folded, and how it had seemed to bypass physical space in favor of another axis. There was no elemental signature, no obvious construct.
That meant a communication spell, and because of its particular ethereal quality that had nothing to do with spiritual magic, he could speculate it was psychic.
Nick’s mouth went dry.
In the Sunlands, that narrowed the list of potential correspondents uncomfortably fast.
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