Chapter 17: Weapon Trial

  Exhaustion smothered Cole.

  He wanted nothing more than to sit down right there and fall asleep. Just fold at the knees and let the stone have him. His legs and arms felt like dead weight.

  His mouth was dry. His tongue felt thick.

  He forced himself to breathe.

  In.

  Out.

  He was alive. Faelen was alive. That had to mean something.

  The chamber had gone quiet after the chains.

  Something floated out of the room the boss had come through.

  It was a staff.

  Cole was almost too tired to take in the details at first. It drifted toward him slowly.

  The wood was darkness and light intertwined. It was simple, almost plain, and yet the moment you looked at it too long your eyes wanted to slide away.

  The end of the staff threaded upward into a circle.

  A perfect halo.

  In the center of that halo was a small, glowing seraphic light. Steady and calm.

  Power rolled off it in a subtle way.

  Cole swallowed.

  Words unfurled in the air.

  Words from the System.

  The text was clean. Heavy. Final.

  CHOICE: SANCTUM VERDICT

  OPTION A: CLAIM WEAPON.

  REWARD: ONE ANSWER.

  STANDARD DUNGEON COMPLETION REWARDS.

  OPTION B: SAVE THE ELF.

  REWARD: STANDARD DUNGEON COMPLETION REWARDS ONLY.

  Cole’s lips twisted.

  “You really are a twisted fucking bastard, aren’t you, System?”

  His voice sounded strange in here. Too human. Too tired. It echoed and died.

  He looked over at Faelen.

  The elf was bound in shadow, chains wrapped around his arms and chest and legs, pinning him against the stone. His mouth was gagged with darkness. His eyes were open, bright green even in this dim light.

  He clearly could not move.

  Cole exhaled hard.

  He knew what the System was doing.

  Choosing the weapon would allow him to ask about Nathan. The System would tell him if his son was alive. If he was smart, he could use the question to get a location too. One question, worded right, could be everything.

  Simple.

  Goal achieved.

  All it would take was Cole sacrificing his friend’s life.

  His mind tried to justify it.

  Faelen was a stranger yesterday. Faelen was not his blood. Faelen was not his son. Faelen was an elf from a world Cole had never even heard of before, a world he might never see again.

  Nathan was his little boy.

  Nathan was the reason Cole’s chest hurt in ways spells could not mend.

  Nathan was the reason he had not laid down and died when trying to save those kids.

  Any father would pick his son, wouldn’t he?

  He looked at Faelen again.

  The elf was looking at him with understanding.

  The blasted elf was at peace with it. He had already accepted that this was how it would go. He was ready to die for Cole’s kid, and he did not even know Nathan’s name.

  That made Cole want to laugh and scream at the same time.

  He chuckled.

  Then he laughed.

  Then the laughter turned ugly, shaking his whole body. Something inside finally snapped.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get control of it. He could feel tears, hot and stupid, and he hated that, too.

  He sucked in a breath through his nose and blew it out of his mouth.

  Again.

  Slower this time.

  Then, gingerly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the photo of Nathan.

  His little boy.

  Nathan was laughing in it, holding out a hand with dice in his palm toward the camera, offering Cole a treasure. Cole’s throat tightened.

  It was a certified miracle the photo had survived everything. Blood. Water. Stone. Spell heat. Getting thrown. Getting hit. Crawling. All of it.

  Cole stared at it.

  He slid the photo into his inner jacket pocket and pressed his palm over it for a second.

  If Nathan was out there, alive, Cole would find him.

  He would do it without deliberately sacrificing his soul.

  Because that was how it started.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Tiny choices. Little compromises. Just once. For a good reason.

  And then you did it again.

  And again.

  And one day you woke up and realized you could not see yourself in the mirror anymore.

  Cole looked at the staff. Then he looked at Faelen.

  He stopped thinking and started moving.

  He strode toward the elf, boots scraping lightly on stone, shoulders heavy, mind weirdly calm now that the decision was made.

  He swept two fingers forward in an almost lazy gesture.

  “Edict: Null Hymn.”

  The shadows chaining Faelen down pulsed once, resisting.

  For a heartbeat, Cole felt the dungeon tighten.

  Then the hymn hummed.

  That subtle song of forgotten things.

  The shadows shuddered.

  With a soft pop and a faint shower of dark light, the chains vanished. The gag vanished. The pressure in the air eased.

  Faelen slumped forward, caught himself, and dragged in a harsh breath through his teeth.

  Text exploded in front of Cole.

  WAR-DEED RECOGNIZED.

  VERDICT CONFIRMED.

  UNIQUE WEAPON TRIAL: PASSED.

  THE CROZIER HAS CHOSEN ITS WIELDER.

  REWARD: BLACK HALO CROZIER (UNIQUE TIER I).

  FORFEIT: ONE ANSWER.

  DUNGEON COMPLETION: CALCULATING.

  A beat.

  The text vanished and was replaced.

  DUNGEON COMPLETED.

  REWARDS GRANTED.

  GOLD: 20

  ALCHEMY CAULDRON (UNIQUE TIER I)

  ALCHEMY SUPPLIES

  EXPERIENCE: 4,000 Level Up 3 to 5

  REPLACEMENT OUTFIT

  SOUL STONE (UNCOMMON) x2

  SOUL STONE (GRAND) x2

  Cole stared at the rewards list, blinking slowly.

  Everything fell to the ground in front of him. A clatter of glass. A thud of metal. A heavy, hollow sound when the cauldron hit stone. Coins chimed. Vials rolled, then settled.

  Faelen limped toward him.

  Cole was already pulling a mend potion from his jacket pocket. He handed it over without thinking.

  Faelen took it, popped the cork, and drank. He let out a gasping breath.

  "The chains," Faelen said quietly, voice still rough. "That was a weapon trial."

  Cole frowned. "What?"

  "When the Ethereal detects an anomaly, a power far beyond what should exist at a given level, it tests character. Unique items aren't simply rewarded. They're earned."

  Faelen's green eyes held his. "My healer told me stories before she died. Warriors who sacrificed companions for legendary blades. Mages who abandoned their parties for forbidden artifacts. Most choose the power when offered. The weapons reject them. But you..." Faelen's expression softened. "You chose loyalty. The Crozier accepted you."

  "So the choice to claim it was…"

  "A test of worthiness," Faelen finished. "The weapon was never going to anyone who'd sacrifice their companion for it. Only someone willing to give it up."

  Cole stared at him, throat tight.

  "So it used you as bait."

  "Yes," Faelen said simply. "A level 3 dismantling a tier-two boss? The Ethereal noticed. It wanted to see what kind of power you'd become." He paused. "I didn't see what the Ethereal offered you, but whatever it was, I could tell it was personal."

  Cole nodded tightly.

  Faelen looked at him.

  “Why?”

  It was simple. No judgement in it. Just a question asked by someone who had bled beside him long enough to be allowed it.

  Cole chewed on the side of his tongue, eyes on the pile of rewards. There was another pile off to the side that had to be Faelen’s. Cole saw the shape of a sword and shield there, and an armor set that gleamed even in this dim light, blue edged with a bright white.

  Cole gave a small sigh.

  “I’m already so different than the man I was,” he said, and his throat tightened around the words. “I don’t want this System to turn me into a monster.”

  He glanced at Faelen, then away again, because eye contact made it real.

  “I read in a book once,” Cole said, clearing his throat. “Funny, it was a wizard character. A detective in Chicago. Human city. Anyway.”

  He rubbed his face with one hand.

  “This character tells the wizard that no one wakes up as a villain. It starts with tiny choices. Little ones you think you can compromise on. That you’re doing for a good reason.”

  Cole swallowed.

  “I could have made that other choice,” he said. “I doubt anyone would have blamed me if they knew the choice. Hell, if I asked a room full of fathers what they would do, most would say they’d take the weapon. They’d take the answer.”

  His jaw clenched.

  “But then it becomes a little easier, you know? Next thing I know I’m wearing a black hat and cackling about unlimited power.”

  Faelen regarded him for a moment.

  Then he chuckled softly.

  “I obviously do not understand all of your references,” the elf said, “but I understand the meaning.”

  Faelen held out a hand.

  Cole took it. Their grip was firm. Real. Human, even with an elf’s fingers and Cole’s shaking fatigue.

  Behind Cole, the staff floated closer.

  Cole turned and reached up. His fingers wrapped around the wood.

  It was warm.

  The halo at the top hummed faintly, and Cole felt something settle in his chest.

  Cole held it up, squinting.

  “Say, what does unique mean, anyway?”

  Faelen’s lips curled into a smile that looked almost painful.

  “Now there is something much more positive,” he said. “Unique items are so named because they grow with you. They virtually guarantee that you will need no other replacements.”

  Cole frowned.

  “Grow with me how?”

  Faelen waggled his hand a little.

  “In ways that depend on the item, the user, and whatever twisted sense of humor the Ethereal has that day. Some have a level of…awareness.”

  Cole blinked.

  “They’re sentient?”

  “Not precisely,” Faelen said, and his tone made it clear he was not interested in arguing definitions. “It is strange. I do not understand everything about it. An enchanter might be able to tell you more.”

  More mysteries. More questions.

  Cole looked down at the pile of treasure again.

  “How am I going to carry all of this?” he asked, wide-eyed despite being too tired to be dramatic.

  As if the dungeon had been waiting for him to say it out loud, the air in front of them rippled.

  A rift unwound itself open.

  Faelen let out a breath of relief. "The exit. Every completed rift returns you to where you entered."

  Cole looked at it, then at Faelen.

  Understanding settled in. "You're going back to Alestaria."

  "And you to Earth," Faelen said. "Different worlds, different paths."

  That same hungry feeling emanated from it.

  Cole knew it led back to Earth.

  Home.

  Nathan.

  At the thought, the staff warmed in his hand again.

  Cole felt a general sense roll through his mind.

  It can help.

  It was the damndest feeling.

  Cole hesitated, then pointed the staff at the pile of rewards.

  He focused, on the simple certainty that those items were his, and they were going to move when he told them to.

  The halo at the top of the staff pulsed once.

  With a soft pop, the rewards vanished.

  Coins. Cauldron. supplies. stones. Outfit. All of it, gone.

  Cole stared at the empty stone.

  Then he felt it, faintly, without being heavier, the staff had swallowed his treasure and was holding it patiently.

  He exhaled.

  “I was going to give you my bag of holding,” Faelen said, holding up a bag with a weak little grin, “but that works too.”

  Cole stared at the bag.

  “You have one.”

  Faelen shrugged.

  “Mine is not special,” he said. “Yours appears to be.”

  Cole looked down at the staff again.

  “Great,” he muttered. “A magic staff with opinions.”

  Faelen’s smile widened a fraction.

  “Now,” the elf said, “I am going to get dressed.”

  “Good idea,” Cole replied.

  He willed his replacement clothes out of the staff.

  With another soft pop, the outfit appeared in his hands, folded neatly, and Cole nearly laughed again because of how absurd that was.

  He changed.

  Replacements indeed. The clothes looked exactly the same as what he had entered with. Same kind of worn pants. Same kind of jacket. Same tired delivery guy vibe. As if the Ethereal was making sure he went home looking like himself, just…emptied out.

  Faelen, however, looked completely different.

  The elf’s plate armor was blue, swirling with runes, trimmed with white. It fit him perfectly. The kite shield went on his back. The sword gleamed, simple and elegant, yet thrumming with power even from a few feet away.

  Faelen rolled his neck, then put on the full helm.

  “That’s better,” he said, and his voice was muffled now. “A unique set of armor. The reward of a lifetime.”

  He looked toward Cole. His green eyes seemed to glow within the visor.

  “I believe this is it, Cole.”

  Cole nodded.

  His hands tightened on the staff.

  “Time to go.”

  “Look for opportunities to visit Alastaria,” Faelen said. “Or come find me when that ten year period is up.”

  Cole held out a fist.

  Faelen stared at it, cocking his head.

  Cole sighed, because of course he did.

  “This time you bump it with a fist of your own,” Cole said.

  Faelen’s gauntleted fist bumped into his.

  It was solid. Metal on knuckle. A small, stupid human gesture that made Cole’s chest tighten anyway.

  Then the pair faced the portal.

  The rift swayed gently, hungry and patient.

  "May you find your son," Faelen said quietly. "And may he be worth the sacrifice you made today."

  Cole's hand pressed against his inner jacket pocket where Nathan's photo waited. "He is."

  Faelen nodded once, then stepped toward the rift.

  He paused at the edge and looked back. "It was an honor, Cole Rourke."

  "Same, Faelen." The elf stepped through. The rift shimmered as it accepted him, and he was gone.

  Cole took one last look at the empty chamber.

  The stone. The torches. The place that had tried to kill them a hundred different ways and almost succeeded.

  He pressed his hand against his inner jacket pocket.

  The photo of Nathan was still there.

  Home awaited.

  Cole stepped forward.

  His head cocked once.

  He couldn’t be sure, but he swore he heard shouts and cries of fear coming from the portal.