The Pinnacle Warrior

Ursula

“Where the hell is Tristan? Or Christophe for that matter?“ Ursula couldn’t keep herself from asking as she continued to employ as many of her attribute-transferring and strength-sapping curses as possible. Despite everything and knowing that the creator of this paper monstrosity was higher level than her, she knew there was more she could do. For some reason, though, the way that this damn paper golem functioned kept her curses from taking over the entire body. Maybe it was due to how it was formed of many parts instead of a whole, but whatever the case was, Ursula was feeling more and more frustrated as she couldn’t markedly reduce its attributes or prevent it from distributing the force of the blows across multiple pages. There had to be something different about this one, whatever it was, since she’d been actually helpful against the other ones, but this “goddess“ was in another realm entirely. At least Leo and Johannes were able to keep the thing from gathering momentum, but it didn’t make sense.

As if to prove her point, Leo swiped up with his hammer into the golem‘s dress, and while a flash of radiance crawled up the body of the monstrosity, it didn’t do much, even the pages resisting charring and burning.

“It’s not doing much.“ Leo reported, not for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. But we don’t know if he’s dead! There wasn’t any kill notification, so he probably is still alive! We can’t let this thing survive!“

“That is why I am here.“ Johannes is added as he finished healing himself. He’d take a flurry of the orbiting arrowheads when the golem turned its attention to him. The damn things were like a constant magical summon from the construct, and it didn’t make any sense that they could continue to swarm from every direction. Even with the frontliner’s Radiant Shield, he’d nearly been decapitated by the attack. Fortunately, Leo had been in good enough shape to step into the breach and take the brunt of the construct’s attacks while his brother healed himself.

“I thought Christophe was just supposed to let out a flurry of his miasma arrows at the entrance and come to us. Is there any reason why he wouldn’t have done that?”

Ursula tried to keep her tone relaxed as she asked as much, as if she didn’t realize what it all meant, but despite the Ranger being an absolute prig, he was also dependable in a fight. Setting up his barriers of poison wouldn’t take that long, so there had to have been another surprise somewhere on the other side that was holding him up. Hopefully he wasn’t dead, but checking would have to come later. For now, she needed to deal with the damned snake in the grass—

With a flash of inspiration, Ursula started channeling one of her latest curses, the serpent’s fang. She pulled the focus from her pouch, the 30 centimeter long fang sticking out of her clasped hand as she pricked her thumb on the tip. The basilisk venom, vestigial as it was, immediately made her arm spasm in agony. That was fine though, because the worse it was now, the better it would be later. Ursula lived a life of calculating costs, and she was a damn good mathematician. 

When the agony grew from minor throbbing to constant fire that seared up to her elbow, she raised her left hand horizontally to be directed towards the construct’s chest. She kept her thumb in the fang as she let the damage build in her. When the throbbing grew further and higher, she waited until it too changed to a crippling heat that reached her shoulder, when she waited just another second. As the venom’s agony threatened to enter into her chest, she pulled her thumb free from the thing, tossed the curse’s origin in the air, and pointed with her pinky, pointer, and thumb at the floating thing and abjured the construct.

A viscous purple smoke floated out of her thumb, taking with it a huge percentage of her mana, as well as the venom that coursed through her veins and threatened her heart. With only a few seconds to spare from her heart’s stoppage, the envenomed blood pulled out of her, leaving her lightheaded but confident. The spinning fang in the air swelled with a sickly purple aura that expanded the fang before it pushed forward under her mental command. It then hovered over to the construct, where it passed without anyone else able to see its passage. Ursula thrust her hand, and by extension, the curse downward, deliberately having the venom paint each page it passed over. She immediately understood that she’d been successful, as for the first time, the “goddess“ roared in pain and anger. At least, that’s what she assumed the sound like a massive, thick tome being ripped into multiple pieces was.

She stumbled, the high tiered curse taking a lot out of her, but Ursula couldn’t allow herself to take a break. This costly attack had weakened and harmed the creature, and the brothers’ attacks were now doing more, but the monster was far from dead. It pointed towards her, and she swore at herself as a dozen of the massive paper arrowheads flew towards her. She tried to roll to the side at the last second and only took a glancing blow from the first arrowhead while the rest continued to seek her flesh.

“Where’s Christophe?“ Tristan asked as he appeared from nowhere, his fist flashing with flames. Each of his punches incinerated the papers that made the construct’s attack, and after a quick combo of punches, the volley of arrows was destroyed. He didn’t take his gaze off the enemy as he spoke, and Ursula noted the telltale signs of his Battle Meditation. He’d exhausted himself in that fight with the Assassin.

“We haven’t seen him. Never showed up.” As Ursula panted, she glanced up at the handsome Pugilist’s face. He always pulled things like this, then was surprised when she wanted him the way that she did.

“Then we need to be prepared for something to happen from the Dungeon proper’s side.“ He made the report as if that was nothing worrisome, but her party leader’s concern for their companion was palpable. Even so, he had something in front of him, and, as he rushed into combat with the massive monstrosity, he asked, “And the kids? Are they OK?”

“They went in the direction of our camp when we showed up.” Ursula reported. “Are they gonna be OK there? I mean, that Assassin is still out and about, isn’t she?”

“I mean, if kill notifications and crushed skulls can be trusted, then no, she’s dead.”

Ursula smiled as the dependable leader threw himself into battle with flashing fists. Different from the brothers’ light, Tristan’s punches brought actual fire, and the flames were strong enough to set the construct ablaze. Ursula could feel that the weakening effect of her serpent’s fang curse was allowing the flames to spread from one page to the next, and while when each sheet burned, another part of the construct as a whole was reduced to ash. Then, she saw that the scepter was still mostly untainted by her curse, the dripping purple poison falling to the ground and sizzling.

“Tristan! He turned into her scepter! It looks like it’s still OK! Might be the key!”

Was the bastard somehow more experienced in combat than she thought? His every movement had demonstrated in no uncertain terms to the skilled observer that he had no real combat experience. The best way Ursula could describe it was that he was a child wielding an enchanted spear, waving and poking it in every direction without training. Maybe he instead had the wisdom to keep himself from being the target of the attack and had distracted and delayed the Silver Wind with every carefully said word?

“What kind of Scribe is this?“ Tristan shouted back as he dodged through a rain of arrowheads before leaping up and using his Death Roll Skill while wrapping the scepter in both arms. His body twisted like a tornado in the sky and ripped through all of the paper that made up the construct’s arm before falling with the scepter still in hand.

“Goodbye,” the scepter declared instead of answering the question. An arm popped out of the top, immediately entering into the ledger that appeared there. Tristan cocked back and punched the ledger with his Finishing Blow, and it tore nearly in half from the blow as Anders screamed in agony. Then the book folded in on itself and disappeared.

“No kill notification. You?” Tristan asked to clarify. The rest of the party just shook their heads in response and he grumbled.

With the Scribe’s disappearance, the construct finally fell, and Ursula couldn’t help but let her mind go into the analytical space it frequently did. How did that Class have enough mana to do all that without drinking potions or help? What could he possibly do to create those constructs and still have the ability to teleport at the end of it all? Everyone knew that Scribe wasn’t a combat Class, and Anders himself obviously wasn’t much of a fighter, even if he had a good head on his shoulders for tactics. So how did it all work?

“What was it that Astrid asked me…? A Talismartist?” Something in Ursula‘s mind connected the two possibilities as she muttered aloud. Maybe she’d have something to explain about what the other Class could do that would inform her about this unknown branch of the Scribe Class. All Ursula could remember was that they were something like enchantments, but single use, so could the Scribe have evolved into a Class like that?

“We’re done here.“ Tristan said, as he checked on the brothers with a quick note of his head. “We need to go check on Christophe.“

“And the kids, of course.“ Ursula smiled.

“If they’re still alive, they’ll be fine. We need to see if it was one of the dwellers holding him up.” Tristan said, refocusing himself entirely on his party. A good party leader, that one. Not the best, because he was just so selfish. Why couldn’t he share? Ursula rubbed at her aching left shoulder while she followed the three men in her party to see if they could find the missing fourth.

***

Astrid woke to the quiet melody of Benedict’s Song of Healing. She grimaced as her pounding head cleared enough for her to open her eyes. The few times she’d gotten really drunk she felt better than this the day after. After blinking hard a couple times, her thoughts cleared enough for her to sit up and look around. There were no sounds of combat, so she wasn’t too worried, but Astrid looked all around to ensure that there were no hidden surprises that were about to kill any member of the party. Instead of battle, though, she saw her four party members sitting around, with Christophe still unconscious on the ground.

“Get a good nap?” Felix asked with an exhausted smile. His bracer had both been removed, and though Astrid didn’t see the two trusty protectors, she knew they were absolutely destroyed. His forearms were covered in his own, mostly dried blood, and underneath the blood, she could see the angry wounds still struggling too close.

“Why haven’t you taken a potion?“ Astrid groaned as she struggled into a more comfortable sitting position.

“I have.” Felix shrugged. “This is what we’re working with after using two. Decided that it wasn’t worth using any more.”

“Oh…“ Astrid felt her eyebrows climb as she struggled with the straps of her helmet under her chin. Eventually, she fought what she was going for and pulled it free. “Can you feel your fingers? Are you gonna be OK?”

“I’m doing mostly okay. Definitely got hurt, but I’m gonna live and with the Silver Wind nearby, I’ll probably be back in top condition soon.”

Astrid nodded with relief, her legs and pelvis, groaning with agony with every movement. As she grew more and more conscious, she found herself less and less comfortable. She’s been through a whole lot and it wasn’t surprising that she wasn’t feeling great.

“And how’s Christophe? How long has it been since I passed out?”

“He’s doing fine, and not too long.” Skandr answered. “Just a couple minutes. The sounds of the fight over there stopped about a minute ago, so I’m sure we’re about to have visitors.”

As soon as the Lightningmage said it, Tristan appeared. Sparks and embers fell behind him, and as he saw the dead, drake, unconscious Christophe—who had been pulled from the remains of the tent—and the five living delvers, he relaxed. As soon as he did so, his shoulders grew smaller, his frame lighter, and his constant embers of fire died away.

“Looks like you were busy. Are you all relatively uninjured?”

“We’re all alive, nobody lost any limbs, and we won. Considering what we fought, I’d call that a resounding success.” Astrid shrugged as she looked at Muti, who continued glancing all around herself while breathing deeply through her nose. With everything that’d happened, the Rogue was whole, though she had taken several heavy blows, especially to her joints. “We could probably all use some healing, though.”

“Well, it looks like you saved our party member’s life, so I’d say it’s only fair.” Tristan answered as he stepped closer to look at the slowly healing injuries all over Christophe’s legs. “Leo, Johannes, you guys available?”

One stepped up to Christophe and placed a hand on the man’s legs, instantly regrowing flesh, sinew, and muscle. Then, he grunted and seemed to push more mana into the healing. With that, a faint yellowish haze flowed out of Christophe‘s pores. Not more than a second after that, he sat both upright, eyes narrowed and bow in hand.

“You’re alive. Sit down, take a breath, you’re OK.“ the Warpriest brother, Astrid thought it was Leo, explained. Christophe pushed the healer’s hands away, and got to his feet. Without saying a word, he strode towards the Dungeon entrance and stuffed just his face through. After a few seconds, he pulled his face back and looked at Tristan.

“I think I know what that was, and I’m sure you can guess.” He reported, then, looking at the Bronzes, he continued, “Once the babies leave, I can give you the specifics I learned.”

Despite her exhaustion, Astrid bristled and started to retort. Instead, Tristan did so in her stead. “Considering they literally pulled you from the jaws of death, I’d be a little bit more grateful. That said, what you’re talking about is a party secret, just don’t be an impolite prig about it.”

The other Warpriest put a hand on Astrid‘s head and she felt the burst of healing pass through her body, possibly to distract her from the conversation that wasn’t about to happen To her surprise, most of the healing went towards her butt. Apparently, she sustained more damage to her pelvis than she’d expected. After about 10 seconds, the Steel tiered delver pulled his hand free, nodded down at her, and moved on to Felix. Astrid watched as each of her allies was healed. Then, they all stood, looking down at the drake corpse.

“It’s got a fair amount of Christophe‘s miasma in there, probably bringing it down to about two thirds of its original strength, but that doesn’t mean it was any harder to damage. Good job, guys.” Tristan nodded as he looked down at the corpse.

“That wasn’t its full strength?“ Skandr demanded. “That thing was nearly untouchable! It took everything we had to just get it to a place where we could break through the defenses!”

“And that’s why new delvers don’t enter the Dungeon proper. Beyond that, you still killed it. Good job. Do you want to come with us when we go back up to town in a little? Cause we’re going to need to leave today. We need to get some rest where we know we’re safe, and the Dungeon, branch or not, ain’t that.”

The sudden shift of topic was jarring to Astrid, but she looked at her party. Despite all being back in fighting condition now, they should get back. Though the decision they’d come to was to take another day to delve, but as the reality of their near subjugation and forced slavery settled in, Astrid felt her hands shaking. Looking at the rest, even Muti didn’t look eager to stick around.

“Yeah, we’d appreciate that.“

“Great. Do you wanna carry your drake, or do you want one of us to?“

“I don’t know what the rest of them are thinking, but I’m going to drag this beast up there myself.” Astrid forced a grin on her face, her eyes meeting Felix and Muti’s as she said as much. The other two physically-Classed delvers agreed, and Skandr and Benedict looked at each other before sighing.

“I guess we’ll pull the sled and put all our packs in there, then.“ Skandr shook his head with a wry smile.

“It is good you know your place. Let the big, strong ones carry the trophy, you will be quietly in the back helping out as you always are.“ Muti patted him on the back as she said as much. Astrid nodded, then realized something. She opened her Status.

Status

Name: Astrid 

Class: Warrior (Bronze)

Total Level: 11 (52/20,000)

Attributes

Current

Per level growth

Power

63 (+1)

+5

Alacrity

40 [+8]

+3

Fortitude

64 (+3)

+5

Magical Potency

16

+1

Self-Mastery

17

+1

Acumen

17

+1

Skill List

Blunt Weapon’s Mastery (Bronze)

Shield Wielding (Bronze)

Quick Recovery (Untiered)

Locked

Steady Load (Bronze)

Locked

Different from before, there wasn’t a list to choose from. Instead, a single prompt flashed in Astrid’s eyes.

Would you like to confirm that your selected level 11 Skill as a Warrior is: Quick Recovery (Bronze)?