Chương 298: Chapter 293

Five days have passed and two hundred civilians have lost their lives. Jacob looks high up at the sky and the half-translucent dome that, high up, beyond the clouds, has encased Ashenmere. The first recon ventures into the Dungeons have started, headed by Adventurers, Knights, and Lord Ashenvale's daughter, Helena Ashenvale, Champion of the Third Year at Ytrial. Yet, despite the meticulously crafted plans, the already mounting kill score against the Nightmare, Jacob feels that something is off.

Since the Grimoire refused to examine the Dungeon, he has been on edge. Something is wrong, he thinks. Something is so wrong. Yet, that's just one of the many problems Jacob is facing. They're half a day's ride above Ashenmere proper, on a stone terrace cut into the cliffside of the mountain range that ridges the city. From up here, the buildings far below are just a tight cluster of slate roofs and rising smoke at the foot of the mountain; the mines beyond are a black gash in the rock.

The wind off the peaks bites through Jacob's cloak even at midday — far enough up that no civilian ears can hear what the Academy and the Cult are about to negotiate. When he turns to the people staring daggers at him, he sighs, " what?"

"Your Squire refused this deal," Asterion says, pointing at the dark robed figures.

"They killed other students already." And there's one person who's silent, but is getting as many glares as Jacob, despite being possibly the second strongest.

"And we're not taking her in," Vyrrak says, pointing at Nimirea.

"This is ridiculous, Jacob. If they were trying to renounce Asmodeus and beg us to join, maybe after a long trial, we could think about accepting them." Jacob looks at the Dark Champions, all of them removed their hoods and he can clearly see which one of them approached his people from the death-stares they're getting.

"Every day that passes, people are going to die," Jacob says slowly, hardening his voice, looking around.

"I don't care about your feelings for them. And as for you," he turns toward the Dark Champions, "I know you want the Cult of Apocalypse dead. You don't have to like us, and we already know a lot about each other. Once we're done with this, we can go back to trying to eliminate the other. But for now, we're stuck. You got caught in the Primordial Dungeon's area of effect—" Don't say that, Jacob suddenly gets a telepathic message from Nimirea. He doesn't know how she did it, but he can hear her in his mind.

Do not make them feel forced to collaborate. If they don't think this is a choice, they will never agree to it.

"Jacob, this is folly," Kai Valemont, his half-brother, tells him.

"Please. We can't be doing this. Our mother would never even believe you're proposing something like this." Jacob bites his lower lip but before he can reply, he hears Sabrina Margrave chime in.

"I loathe to agree with a Valemont, but he's right. This is a line that cannot be crossed as a Knight." A gold-skinned Dragonkin on the Dark Champions' side, not Korrath Kethys, the black-scaled one that Vyrrak faced, but another, Zorathul Wlatherkz, laughs out loud.

"Your lot is weak," he says.

"You're the one who are gaining something from this if we decide to join your sorry bunch."

"Lad," Boomgar says, taking out a sledgehammer from his Interspatial Ring, "what if we just finish the job here and now? I've been training non-stop and I would like to see that gold lizard put his tail where his mouth is." The two sides are starting to unsheath their weapons and their auras when Jacob, not knowing what to say, feels a devastating aura come in the middle. He turns to see an empty small bottle in Nimirea's hand.

"Jacob will lead the Champions, Delefagus will lead the Dark Champions. You can act in synch, save lives, and coordinate with each other without the strict need to act together." Don't say anything and trust me on this. They hate you, Nimirea says in Jacob's mind. The Dark Champions look at her with contrasting feelings.

"So, it's true," Asterismos, a member of the Tribe of Stars just like Asterion, speaks after stepping forward.

"You abandon us for them." Nimirea nods.

"Sure." The Highblood narrows his eyes.

"Are you mocking me, Nimirea?" The man says.

"I will—""You will do nothing," Nimirea says, stepping forward.

"I've received a little gift after Asmodeus's oath was ripped from me. Now, I could kill you with one hand. So, careful how you speak to me, Asterismos. I might not be your leader anymore, but I can still be your end." The man, clearly feeling a potential threat, steps back, narrowing his eyes, scoffing, but not saying anything else, and certainly not challenging Nimirea. I wish I could do that, Jacob thinks to himself. It would make things much, much easier on his side.

Don't be jealous, Nimirea tells him telepathically. Are you fucking reading my mind?! Jacob shoots back. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Of course I'm reading your mind. How are you doing this?! Why would I do this? She tells him. I want to mess with you. Jacob frowns and looks at Nimirea. She's not reading his mind, she can send her thoughts to him and she was anticipating his responses. Oh, you figured it out? Bummer. I'll teach you later, Jacob. Don't cry.

"I happen to agree with Nimirea," Delefagus says.

"We won't be strictly collaborating, it will be a deal about sharing information and supporting each other as little as possible. But still, I've seen the Knights and the Adventurers that have come, and I'm pretty sure they will be enough on their own." Jacob suddenly smiles and shrugs.

"And not one of you is curious to see what happens when you combine so many Rainbow Skills?"

"We won't show you all our trump cards," a high-pitched female says from the Dark Champions.

"I already know all of your Rainbow Skills," Jacob smiles.

"Augusta Leesing. Movement Skill, the Door of Darkness, capable of unrestricted teleportation as long as there's one person marked by your on the other end—teleportation inhibited by the Dungeon of Apocalypse." Jacob stares at the girl. She's bald and has face-tattoos that resemble spider legs.

"I suspected he knew already," Delefagus sighs.

"That's how he knew about Astabazos, right?"

"Indeed," Jacob says, then turns toward his side. Vyrrak frowns, "you know all of ours as well?" Jacob nods.

"Creepy," Sabrina Margrave comments with a disgusted face.

"I don't like that." There's a beat of silence among the two sides, sharing a moment of feeling naked in front of Jacob. Then, a person, not a Champion, suddenly speaks up.

"Huh, I—I agree with Jacob. We should j—join hands." Everybody turns toward Garros, the one who came out of the tournament and the fight against the monsterified students completely transformed.

"Who the hell are you?" Augusta says, frowning at him.

"You look familiar." Then, another person steps forward. He gained his spot as Champion by the rules that the Headmaster had set up before the tournament. Whoever defeats a Champion, gains their spot. And this person, well, killed an ex-Champion.

"Many things can be unpalatable. This?" Baal says, stepping forward.

"I believe this is just a job. I will gladly hunt them down once we're done. But I wouldn't let our feelings get in the middle until we're done saving people. This magic is ancient, very ancient. As ancient as the blood in my veins." Jacob has to admit that this speech does support him. At the same time, though, the fact that mega-handsome Devil guy is speaking about his blood being all this cool, makes him feel a bit undermined as Leader of Champions. Is he happy that Baal joined, considering how powerful he is?

No. But does he think he'll be able to help and thus that makes him happy, or at least content? No. But he doesn't have much choice. Hearing the Blood of the Devils talk, the Champions look among each other. Plus, what Nimirea said made the Dark Champions more comfortable. In a way, it almost looks like seeing her ready to kill Asterismos, whether she was still their leader or not, seeing her combative nature, brought their Leader back. She's good, Jacob thinks, almost afraid that she'll hear it.

"Alright, we'll draft the Oaths to avoid anyone trying to kill each other," Jacob said.

"We'll reconvene at dawn. Then, we'll start venturing into the Dungeon." Jacob waits for the Champions and the Dark Champions to scatter, remaining alone with Delefagus and Nimirea. He doesn't even realize it, but he feels a pang in his heart when she starts leaving as well, not truly belonging to either of the sides. Without having realized it, Jacob was hoping she'd stay behind so that they could talk.

She has come here with Sir Renquell, someone Jacob was acquainted with during his first adventure back in Clearwater. Yet, they have barely spoken more than a few words to each other, despite all the emotional baggage there's between them after the tournament.

"I hope you die a terrible death in the Dungeon," Delefagus says, handing a document to Jacob, who examines the Oath Delefagus drafted and Jacob gives him back his and one Baal gave Jacob before the meeting even happened. Stupid handsome Devil. Delefagus skims down through Jacob's draft of the Oath, eyes flicking over each clause. He pauses at one in the middle and lets out a thin laugh.

"You wrote in a training clause," he says, tapping the parchment with one long finger.

"You think we're going to need leveling up to help you? Jacob Cloud, we have spent every waking hour of the last decade perfecting ourselves. We don't need to become stronger to handle this Dungeon. You do." Jacob shrugs.

"Better safe than sorry." Delefagus rolls his eyes and signs. They read the set of three Oaths, make some adjustments, and they, too, part their ways. Jacob remains on the stone railing when he feels a displacement of air, yet a familiar aura appears behind him.

"Senior Brother?" Jacob turns his head, surprised.

"I wasn't expecting you."

"Junior Brother Cloud," Liuthkrav, the massive, handsome-as-well Mithril Golem, cups his hands.

"I had to come after hearing what happened. I remained behind as you asked, but I could not stop myself after I heard about the Dungeon. I have very precise orders about this."

"Huh?" Jacob asks, curious.

"About…"

"This is an Original Primordial Dungeon, Junior Brother Cloud. Master Rafnov—you do not know it—yet, he fought Primordial Gods his entire life. He killed one."

"Really?" Jacob widens his eyes.

"I thought Primordial Gods were very ethereal, like a concept. Like 'Apocalypse.' That's my understanding, at least."

"It's not about whether they're attached to an ethereal concept or not.

'Undeath' is as much as a concept as 'Apocalypse' is. Yet, the God of Death, or more precisely Undeath, just like Madness, is a creature that my master could have squashed with one finger. No, Primordial Gods are akin to an element. Gods, instead, are creatures. Immortal Creatures, almost impossible to kill, yet, creatures. Primordial Gods barely exist. But I'm getting ahead of myself." Liuthkrav looks in the distance toward the mine.

"What's your advice, Senior Brother?" Jacob asks.

"We're not even allowed yet to enter the Dungeon. Is Sir Maximilian right? Or, should I disobey and—""That Knight Commander is wise," Liuthkrav says, making Jacob's heart fall.

"Listen to your orders. But I came here to warn you about this. Do not underestimate the Dungeon."

"I don't," Jacob shakes his head.

"Is there something you can do for the civilians? The Rankless ones, especially?" Liuthkrav shakes his head.

"Despite being made from Mithril myself, the Mithril sickness that they're developing kills them from the inside out, turning their energy into Mithril-like sustenance for the Dungeon. They'll die terrible deaths." What's happening right now is that they fall into a coma after being covered in Mithril-like scales all over their body. After the coma, they don't wake up anymore. Jacob has already tried his vast repertoire of Primordial Magic, but nothing works. Even the Grimoire has given him no solution, no fix.

"Senior Brother, did you come all this way to tell me to be careful?" Jacob asks.

"No, Junior Brother Cloud. I came all this way because the Primordial Gods' Dungeons have been targeted by Master Rafnov. Inside of this Dungeon, just like every single of them, you'll find mines. Ore upon ore that feeds upon the Dungeon." Jacob feels something in his Interspatial Ring suddenly tremble and he gets it out. Rafnov's Pickaxe appears in Jacob's hands and it's glowing.

"My master's plan was to make sure that Primordial Gods would suffer from the same fate they're trying to inflict on the world. Their Dungeons are forever cursed by my master's sacrifice. They'll forever be a bountiful terrain to harvest for those who can do such a thing." Liuthkrav smiles at Jacob, "and you, Junior Brother, will be able to extract the best resources from this place."

"Oh," Jacob smiles.

"Really?"

"Well, sort of, Junior Brother," Liuthkrav sighs.

"You being this weak with such a Dungeon in front of you means that you won't be able to access most of the good spots inside of it, and therefore, you won't be able to gain all its treasures."