(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

A dense net of bush at his back, Bronwyn stood at the edge of a steep canyon that ripped its way deep into the earth. Before him lay Strangspine. It was as awe-inspiring as the first time he’d laid eyes on it.

Unfathomably long and multiple leagues across, it dominated this region of the Frontier. The difference between it and its surroundings was stark — almost impossible. While the dense bush they had passed through was humid, Strangspine hit them like a wall of water. An omnipresent mist wafted from the floating islands above.

A gift of life for the mana-enriched jungle, full of alien plants so different from any he’d seen anywhere else. They caked up to the very walls, starting a few strides beneath him — a teeming mass of life and noise. Flowers of violet-purple and even iridescent neon punched through the canopies, each with a head wider than he was tall with his arms outstretched. All around them lay a dizzying assortment of trees: some with orbs of glowing fluid instead of leaves, others looking like twisted tangles of vines growing as a single mass.

Fed by the constant waterfalls above, dozens of streams and rivers cut their way through the canyon — roaring white water creating the only space absent of plant life. Leagues away, deep in the jungle, towering mountains reached for the sky. They were far different from the peaks of the Wildguard or Drozag ranges. Instead, each thinly tapered spire erupted like a column, covered in green growth and tightly clustered.

Their placement closely mirrored the floating islands above—a formation that, from a distance, gave the zone its name.

Bronwyn couldn’t keep a smile from his face as the sun hit the endless sprays of water, refracting off it so that it fell like an endless procession of gems. There was no known physical explanation, and no explorer had ever found the sources of water on the islands above — even those that had the ability or resources to reach them. Gods, why did high-mana zones have to be so gorgeous? For that beauty was a thing he knew had deadly danger.

Unlike the bush they had just left, Strangspine teemed with the sounds of life—the raucous calls of beasts echoing through its reaches, unidentifiable trees and plants rustling without a breeze, evidence of creatures running through the undergrowth beneath them. Yet for all the evidence of life and creatures flocking through the air, and the faint flashes of movement he caught down below, he saw none of the madness he had expected after the violence that had befallen the settlements closest to here. Strangspine might have been packed to bursting, but it existed in a tenuous balance — a heightening of the natural stasis of an ecosystem.

Sighing in satisfaction, Julis leant on his staff, soaking in the sight. “Truly a wondrous view. I still remember the first time I saw it — I hadn’t wanted to believe the stories, but it somehow managed to be more impressive in person.”

Dross barked out a laugh, slapping his side with his palm. “Aye, I think we all do. Damn near got eaten, we did. Closest we’ve ever come to death, I think.”

Bronwyn snorted, shaking his head. The ranger wasn’t exactly wrong. That had been a hairy adventure, that one. At least it had been interesting, both for the sights they’d seen and the sudden burst of strength they had gained.

In hindsight, it had been amongst the single most productive expeditions they’d ever been on — proof, in a sense, of the methodology that Kaius and his team applied.

It hadn’t been all that long after they’d met, really. They’d done a few easy jobs over a year to get used to working together when they’d outgrown their old teams. Or, in Yanira’s case, outlived them.

He remembered it clearly. Each of them had been in the same position. Like everyone, they’d had their crews at the time, and friends. But after hitting the Wall? Well, it was called that for a reason: only those who had grit in them kept pushing as hard or harder than they had before surmounted it. His original team had flagged, their wills broken by the monumental slog and constant work needed to keep growing their levels.

Knowing that he wasn’t done, he came to the same conclusion every single one of his current team members had: they needed to find others with drive.

Oddly enough, despite being their team leader, he’d been the last to join. After leaving his old crew he’d left the Greenseeds for the home of his youth — the Frontier. Lower in mana, it proved a safer bet for a solo Delver compared to some of the dangers that could be found in the wilds around the dukedoms.

Grandbrook had been first. He’d worked odd jobs, jumping in with teams that wanted a bit of extra muscle for elimination contracts, and also other more mundane work when he needed coin. One of them had been to help guard a caravan that was delivering alchemical supplies to Deadacre’s Guildhall.

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The job had been easy, safe, and paid well, but it was exactly the opposite of what he’d wanted. All of it was, really. That year had been a listless one. He’d left his team so that it could keep making progress they weren’t willing to work for. Level growth had slowed beyond what he’d experienced with them. It was just too hard to find good fights as a solo. And even as headstrong as he’d been in his youth, he wasn’t suicidal enough to fight things alone.

By the time he’d reached Deadacre, he’d been half ready to pack up and return to the Greenseeds, try his luck in some of the more populous cities. While it would have likely meant half a year or more of avoiding contracts until he found people to work with, at the time that sounded better than slumming on the frontier.

That was, of course, until he’d run into a fired-up trio of would-be Silvers in the Deadacre common room, arguing over a contract.

Bronwyn smiled at the image—the way Yanira had waved the contract slip, insisting she was enough for them to take the job. Dross and Julis hadn’t been having a bar of it. As efficient and effective as Yanira was, she was a bastion—few backliners would be safe with only a single person occupying hostile attention.

It had been exactly the break he was waiting for. He joined up with them immediately on an impulse, purely so he could take some real jobs again. It was the best damn choice he’d ever made.

A year later and Yanira had suggested a trip to the Spine—a way for them to find a few more beasts appropriate for their strength without committing to the danger and length of a proper delve. It had gone poorly, to say the least. Oh, they’d found levels and challenge galore, and the sights had been magnificent. But it only lasted so long.

“I think we lasted all of three days before that high-steel beast damn near cut my head off,” Bronwyn said, chuckling.

“Bah, you’re exaggerating,” Yanira said, waving him off. “It was a week, at least.”

Bronwyn smiled and shook his head — he was absolutely certain it had been three and a half days.

Fleeing from that creature had been one of his closest brushes with death he’d ever experienced — vying for the position with the four other close calls they had, and the following month they’d stuck around Strangspine. The foolish moves of the young. But he couldn’t deny that it had been good for their strength. The abundance of beasts had led them to flee half their engagements and fight creatures equal to their level far more than was traditionally wise.

He hoped this time would not be anywhere near a repeat, even if the Spine was far more lively than he remembered.

Stepping back from the edge of Strangspine, Bronwyn walked over to where they had left the edge of the bush. He waved to his team to join him.

“Preparation time, folks,” he said as his team nodded seriously.

“As far as we can tell from the village maps of the initial beast rush, the most likely target for their congregation looks like that cluster of spires there.” He pointed to five jutting mountains — easily three or four days’ journey into the Spine. They were a closely bundled set with a cluster of islands directly above them.

“I want us to get there undetected. That means we move slow. We keep a constant dose of stealth and scent-elimination tonics.”

“Gods, that’s going to feel like shit,” Dross scrambled.

Bronwyn didn’t try to correct the man. They all knew it would be. Alchemical buildup was nasty stuff. While these potions were relatively low in grade compared to their own strength—which would give them some resistance—a constant imbibement of tonics would leave them feeling nauseous and ill. Thankfully, unlike resource restoratives, it would not impede their ability to heal and make use of skills.

“Nothing we haven’t had to deal with before,” Yanira said, shrugging.

A truth, but that wouldn’t fix their discomfort in the meantime.

“Do you think you can guide us around the beasts, Dross?” Bronwyn asked.

The ranger paused for a moment, then gave him a single nod. “I should. I didn’t get the sense of any exceptionally strong beasts, and given everything, those in the Spine are acting far less rabid than I would expect, which will work to our advantage. Still, we best have an escape route planned for if things go wrong. I don’t fancy facing down an army to fight my way out of here.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Julis said. “I’ve come prepared.”

Reaching into his spatial storage, the mage drew out four bracelets, passing them to the rest of the team.

Bronwyn turned his over with curiosity. He could feel the magic coming off the finely twisted silver wires that made it up, and the inscriptions on its surface looked complex and finely wrought — but he was not blessed with an identification skill.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bangles of Airstep,” the mage replied. “Took an advance on this contract and pulled a little from our team funds to make it happen. Had my eye on them for a while — after me and Yanira got trapped in that sinkhole fighting that mole beast. Figured now would be a good time to pick them up.”

Bronwyn grinned at that, they would be perfect. Verticality might be just what they needed to escape if things went awry. Even if they had to face off against fliers, they would still have an advantage.

“How long do they last?” Bronwyn asked.

“An hour. Then they’ll need a day and a half to recharge — or fifteen hundred mana. It’s a hungry enchantment.”

Bronwyn nodded. “Right then. Let’s down our first doses and set off.”