Chương 49: Feet First Into Frozen Hell

"I'm sorry, you want to what?" The quartermaster was yelling at him. That wasn't a good sign. The stout man was usually pleased to see him in most loops. The situation in the base was always tense, what with the enemy barging at the gates and all. Alcyr's presence was normally a reassurance. Now, it was the opposite.

Alcyr had started his approach for the three hundred and fifty-first loop the same as he had before — killing the cyclops with a plunging attack from above, rallying the few remaining defenders, before heading straight for the inner tunnels that lead to the base's primary workshop next to the icy underground river. Instead of rushing straight for the caverns, however, he found the quartermaster and pulled him aside, quickly explaining his plan. The man's expression rapidly changed from relief to horror.

To be fair, Alcyr's idea wasn't exactly a reasonable one.

"We can't blow up the entire foundry!" The quartermaster continued yelling.

"Do you know how valuable those workshop machines are?!"

"They are lost anyway. We might as well use the fuel and rig them up to take out the incoming wyrm."

"Assuming this wyrm of yours is really coming! Are you really trying to tell me the gods-damned Immortal Pale is on its way here?! That reclusive half-dragon surely won't bother!"

"I don't know how the shamans manipulated the monster, but it's currently climbing up the river and will burst into the cavern minutes from now. Once it starts making its ice territory, the mountain's foundations will weaken, and the whole base will collapse on us. We need to kill it, or we are all dead." The man looked ready to burst from stress.

"Look, you are asking for a great deal of trust here. The 4th Regulars won't be able to continue the campaign if we do this! There has to be a better way!" Alcyr considered and capitulated slightly.

"What if we only rigged the majority of the drake oil and the fuel near the river entrance instead? Some parts of the workshop will be unrecoverable, but the majority will still be intact and useable after repairs."

"I… Well, that would be slightly better, but you're still asking me to agree on sacrificing hundreds of gold's worth of equipment on your say-so! You're just a cadet; even a captain can't just tell me to do all this at the drop of a hat!" They were running out of time to argue. Alcyr needed the quartermaster's help to set the trap; he had to convince him now.

"I swear on the parity of the Fifth Saint that this is necessary. We either lose part of the workshop or we lose all of it. May she throw my soul to the Unnamable One should my words prove false." It had been little more than a desperate shot on Alcyr's part, appealing to the quartermaster's Path. He had not really expected it to work. However, suddenly, there was the sound of a bell — a distant toll, funereal and powerful. Death's knell. Alcyr blinked. The quartermaster's eyes widened.

The both of them had clearly heard it, yet no one else around seemed to react to the strange and out-of-place sound. Xun? Before Alcyr could ponder why the Saint of Death had answered his vow, the quartermaster immediately straightened up.

"I'm sorry I doubted the urgency of your request," he said, his voice entirely serious. When his eyes met Alcyr, there was no hesitation at all. Rather, there was an unsettling fervour.

"What do you need me to do?" Well, this will surely not bite me in the rear at all… Still, he had the quartermaster's cooperation. Any problems that might arise from this, he would deal with later.

"Here's what I need…"

They barely had ten minutes. After that, the cavern floors started trembling, and the temperature began to rapidly drop. Hoarfrost spread — first from the river, then the walls, and then the very air itself began misting.

"That's enough!" Alcyr shouted at the quartermaster.

"Go! I have this!"

"Understood! Good luck to you, Bell Bearer!" Bell Bearer? There was no more time for idle thought. The river exploded in a shower of freezing water and icicles. The frost wyrm was here, in all its titanic glory. The draconic serpent noticed him immediately. It snarled and roared, the sound cracking through the cavern and causing chunks of ice and rock to fall from the ceiling. The temperature plummeted yet again as its power rose. Alcyr's breath fogged, ice crystals forming on his eyelashes. He remained calm.

Come closer. He purposefully backpedalled toward the smelting racks, his boots steady on the frost-slicked stone. The rest of the wyrm's serpentine body slithered its way out of the shattered riverbed, moving like an endless ribbon of pale scale. Each coil that hit the ground sent frost lancing outward, and where the ice touched the drums of drake oil or other volatile fuels stacked along the workshop walls, the metal containers groaned and contracted.

The wyrm paused as the damaged drums began leaking the stench of caustic, flammable oil. It hissed, clearly suspicious and aware of the danger. It was intelligent — Alcyr already knew that. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. But he also knew it was a temperamental and overconfident creature. As proud as it was powerful — fitting of its draconic lineage. Alcyr's voice rang out, clear and mocking.

"Scared already? Your ancestors would be ashamed that their bloodline raised such a cowardly worm. Come and face me if you dare, you arrogant—" Quick as lightning, the wyrm lunged. Nothing that big should move that fast. It possessed the size and length of several buildings, yet held the striking acceleration of a serpent. Alcyr had died countless times before to that opening move, caught flat-footed by that impossible speed.

His body would be caught in its fangs, the draconic cold freezing his torso solid before the crunch of the wyrm's jaw broke him to pieces. But not this time. He was faster now — at least twice as fast as he was when he first started the Well. The Acrobatics skill saved him when Movement alone would have failed. Alcyr threw himself sideways, rolling under the lip of an overturned smelting cart. Permafrost jaws slammed into the stone where he'd been standing.

Splinters of rime-coated rock violently exploded outward from the aftermath, gouging shallow lines across his floors and walls. He got to his feet and sprinted along beside a thin channel — a narrow trench meant for industrial wastewater, barely wide enough for a boot to step in — running the length of the workshop floor to the river.

Beneath its thin covering of slate, it was packed end to end with drake oil, aqueous fuel, and every other volatile scrap of liquid tinder he and the quartermaster could gather in time. The wyrm gave chase, its massive bulk tearing through machines, scales ripping chunks of stone from the frozen ground even as its breath turned the air to needles. The creature roared, sending a blast of frozen mist screaming past Alcyr's shoulder.

The tail end of it caught the shield on his back, freezing the guard solid and weighing him down. [Shield Discipline has improved to 52] The shield saved his life. He tossed it aside and kept running. He hit a wall — the river and the water wheels to his right, the rest of the workshop to his left, and dozens of barrels of foundry pitch around him. Finally in position, Alcyr turned to face the wyrm, his hands reaching into his pouch to pull forth an intricately made iron sphere. Don't fail me now.

He flicked the thumb on the grenade. There was a spark and a hiss as flint struck and tinder began burning. The monster reared up, filling the cavern's height, ice crackling along the curve of its spiked spine as it drew back for the killing strike.

"One," Alcyr said. He threw the grenade. He didn't wait to see the firebomb land. He knew it would not miss the oil-filled trench. The sudden flash and heat made the creature flinch, its inborn aversion to fire overriding the knowledge that no mundane flame could ever hurt it. That second of hesitation — of fear — would cost its life. Fire raced down the trench in both directions at once, a hissing orange vein splitting the cavern floor into two. It reached the first fuel drum in less than a second.

Alcyr activated his sanguine shroud, bolstering his elemental resistance to its maximum capacity. The flayed cloak of Red March materialised at his command. Knowing what was to come, he ducked behind cover and braced himself. The first explosion set off a chain. Barrel after barrel of drake oil and raw alchemical tinder erupted, each one feeding the next until the temperature within the enclosed cavern became akin to the heart of a raging furnace.

The frost wyrm shrieked as the hellish inferno engulfed it from all sides, turning the ice sheathing its scales into superheated steam in an instant. Alcyr was engulfed as well, but the elemental protection of his shroud protected him from the worst of it, and what little that got through was defeated by his high Fire Resistance skill. He counted ten seconds. The explosions ceased.

The enormous creature crashed to the ground hard enough that Alcyr felt it in his teeth, and a heartbeat later the closest water wheels collapsed as their support beams burnt out. [Fire Resistance has improved to 40] Alcyr stood, the sanguine shroud lazily swaying on his back. Heat rolled over him as waves of fire spread everywhere. The frost wyrm was on the ground, whole and healthy, while a sheath of snake skin lay abandoned at its side. It was panting.

Though Alcyr would not say it was panicking, it at least looked shaken. Alcyr smiled. He took out a leather-wrapped cylinder on his back and unsheathed it. The metal case was rune-lained and reeked of potent chemicals. He twisted a handle and armed the device.

"Two." He dashed forth while the wyrm was still stunned. To the creature's credit, it recognised Alcyr as the primary threat and roared, opening its mouth to fire a gout of ice. The moment its maw opened, Alcyr called upon his throwing skill and hurled the cylinder with all his might. It was small enough that it instantly flew past its fang and hit the back of its throat with little issue. The wyrm choked briefly as it swallowed the strange device. Glaring at Alcyr, it opened its mouth again to roar.

Before a sound left its throat, its neck exploded with a rain of green fire and burning flesh. [Pyrotechnic has improved to 41] [Crafting has improved to 42] [Throwing Weapon Discipline has improved to 50] That had easily been the most powerful and compact bomb he had ever made — the cumulation of hundreds of loops of crafting and refining Rainfire explosives. The wyrm didn't even have time to scream as the green alchemical flames rapidly ate it from inside out. Alcyr didn't stop.

He was running towards it, the silverite in his right hand and the shorter gladius on his left. There was another brilliant flash of light. A second sheathe of shedded snake skin now lay discarded at its side as the monster was revived to full, the gaping wound upon its neck gone and the fire within magically extinguished. The wyrm tried to raise its head from the ground… Only to see Alcyr already standing right next to it, the gladius in his left hand raised and plunging straight for its eye.

The blade went in, and he twisted. Alcyr held on tight as the freshly revived wyrm screamed. Its body thrashed in agony as it instinctively reared its head back into the air, its maw nearly touching the ceiling. For a brief moment, the upper third of its body was nearly vertical. Alcyr was dangling off the side of its opened mouth, his grip on the gladius holding strong. To the many horrified onlookers watching, it seemed as if he had trapped himself with nowhere to escape. But that was not the case.

He had planned this from the start — he was right where he needed to be. Now. It has to be now. Everything he had done — the trap, the fire, the bombs — it was all to engineer this moment. Steadying his nerves, he quickly pulled himself up before the screaming wyrm could shut its mouth. In a moment of insanity, he used one of its fangs as a handhold, positioning himself until his feet were dangling over its opened maw. There was the putrid scent of blood and acid.

Its caustic breath was equal parts freezing and corrosive. Even with the sanguine shroud and his elemental resistances protecting him, he could feel his skin burning from cold and venom, the soles of his boots already melting into permafrost slag. How much worse would it be, once he was inside? Looking below, all he could see was slimy darkness, promising a painful and undignified death. But only if he failed to stab its heart in time. There was no time to hesitate.

It was insanity, but this was the best plan he could come up with. If I can't slay the monster from outside… Then I will have to slay the monster from within. He let go of the wyrm's fang, falling past its teeth and straight down into its throat, where it couldn't bite him. The monster gagged. His body began burning instantly — from digestive slime, from cold, from venom. All the while, great draconic muscles pressed in, trying to crush him. He would not let any of that stop him.

Silverite blade shining, Alcyr began ripping and tearing his way to the frost wyrm's heart.