Chương 116: Arc 2 - Chapter 58

Fritz and Bert stood back to back, blades drawn and fists raised to meet the sharks swimming through the soft, white sand. Though Fritz was tired, though he was fearful, he held strong and rallied his raucous nerves, attempting to still the waves of wild energy still washing over him. That stamina pill he had taken was still working its magic, though now the manic mood he had succumbed to earlier was waning. What had he been thinking?

To jump into the literal jaws of his foes to lead them away was tantamount to suicide. And yet here he was, and he'd dragged Bert into it, again. Though it's not like the man would ever leave him. He could hear Bert shuffle his feet and take his stance. Although Fritz couldn't see him, he knew he was grinning. This was going to be one of those fights then, they would be pushed to their limits and Bert would revel in the challenge, the carnage, they were to endure and enact.

Rather than let his thoughts spiral, Fritz kept his eyes on the approaching dark-blue fins, activated his barrier ring, and waited for their foes to strike. Spade-headed sharks leapt, each was almost nine feet long and they were many. They were a storm of teeth and fins but Fritz was a fleeting shadow after the lightning and Bert was the thunder. Fritz lowered his stance and lunged forward, both blades in hand.

Quicksilver slid down the exposed underbelly of a soaring shark and Mortal Edge plunged into the gills of another as he sidestepped its open, toothy maw. Bert weaved, he ducked, he dived and dodged, through the pack, slamming them with compact punches and solid, straight kicks as he slipped between the falling fish. Without having to maintain the protective circle of their former formation it was easier to maneuver, far easier to avoid the brutally powerful jaws and terribly sharp teeth.

They could each focus on their own defences without worrying about the others. It was a freeing feeling, that they could trust in each other and their powers. That, even if they were surrounded and swarmed, nothing could slay them while they were in their element. Chaos. Stepping, sliding, slashing and slicing, Fritz spun and slaughtered his way through the sharks. He found himself speeding out of the other side of the swarm, then he turned and dived right back in.

Blood flew through the air, a warm scarlet drizzle. Not all of it was their foes. No matter how gracefully or precisely he moved, it wasn't enough to evade such numerous enemies. Fritz misstepped more than once, his Umbral Phase had kept him safe for his first mistake, but for his others, he was rewarded with long, shallow gashes across his armour and sometimes over his skin. He bled, but not as badly as Bert. His brother-in-arms was a maze of light cuts and crescent bites.

His clothes were ragged and riddled with holes, dyed red. Bert didn't falter, didn't flinch. His fists struck out, shattering the magic that let the sharks swim through sands and leaving them stranded and spasming. It was obvious the sand sharks could breathe both air and water so they wouldn't suffocate if left to flounder, which is why Fritz took great pains to target their gills where he could.

Over their many battles with the sharks, they had found it would take thirty seconds for the sand swim sheen to refresh. While half a minute wasn't long in the real world, in a battle it was an age and more than enough time for Fritz to finish their flailing foes. That's not to say he was the only one killing the creatures, no, many of them had broken spines or crushed skulls, inflicted by Bert's ridiculous strength and the occasional Concussive Blow.

Together they were a whirlwind of death, sharks fell by the dozens. Yet still more came, drawn by the battle and the bloodbath. After committing too much momentum to a lunge, Fritz felt a deadly bite, and the terrible teeth tearing out his throat. He was forced to stagger back, out of the peril's path and abandon Quicksilver, stuck as it was in a particularly large shark's spine. His and Bert's backs met, they were both panting, heaving great breaths. Sweat and blood trickled into Fritz's eyes and he wiped it away.

"Can you keep going?" Fritz croaked.

"Can you?" Bert groaned. Fritz scoffed outwardly, but inwardly he wasn't sure. His whole body felt sluggish, weak. He wobbled, and his arm trembled as he tried to hold up Mortal Edge. Bert didn't seem much better, even with all his Vitality and Endurance, he could only bleed so much before it would take its toll on his body. Still, he expected to feel fear, that overwhelming terror that his life was about to end. But he felt nothing of the sort, there just wasn't that pressure.

These sharks didn't scare him, they weren't the hounds, nor the raider, and he wasn't the same untried man that had fought them. Instead, he was tired, calm, ready to finish the fight. He steadied his hand and his bone blade stopped shaking. He let out a long breath, then plunged forward again, dodging between biting maws and taking up Quicksilver again. Bert roared and Fritz could hear wet thuds and meaty crunching coming from behind. The next minutes, or perhaps hours, were a blur of blood and blade.

Fritz was in a kind of trance, darkness closed in around the edges of his vision, but he didn't fret. He relied on his Danger Sense to see. It was like he was in a pitch-black ocean, in which he could only see those serrated teeth swim towards him, illuminated by deadly light. Weighed down and weary beyond belief, he fought, he struggled and stabbed. And when he could see no more, hear no more, feel no more, he fell to his knees, dropping his blades. They clattered silently.

His whole world was numb, but he heard one thing through the black haze.

"I think that's all of them," Bert whispered.

"It better be," Fritz said.

"I'm dying."

Bert turned to see Fritz pass out.

"Hah, softy," he breathed out. The word spun, and the sickness in his stomach grew worse, so he sat. He meant to sit on the ground but his buttocks slammed into something more squishy, a dead shark. The sands were littered with them. Bert spat, clearing his mouth of blood and phlegm. He stared around, though there wasn't much to see, nothing stirred on the horizons and all their foes lay still. Fritz coughed, whined something incomprehensible and he knew he should check on the man.

Fritz didn't have Vitality after all. It was too tiring to stand, so Bert crawled on hands and knees towards his fallen brother. Fritz wasn't looking well, he was pale and his breathing was soft and shallow. Blood trickled from countless wounds, long and short but not very deep. They were mere grazes compared to the heroic injuries Bert had earned and still endured. Fritz, however, was not nearly as sturdy as himself, and he might really be in peril.

If not for the proclamation of dying, Bert might have fed him a healing potion. As it was, Bert took some time to recover, lying beside his brother and breathing deeply. Sleep called to him, weighed on him like a heavy blanket, beaten away only by the pounding of his heart. Bert blinked his gritty eyes and groaned before struggling up and standing. All the wounds he'd taken throbbed and his head swam again, yet he kept his feet.

He only had to push a little longer before he could rest, just nine more minutes of torment.

"This is your fault," he told Fritz.

"Crazy bastard." Fritz didn't respond. Bert sighed, grabbed both his and Fritz's packs and slung their straps over his shoulders. They were so light he could barely feel them, a product of all his prodigious Strength. The same could not be said of Fritz, it was the bones, Bert knew, but his brother had also been packing on some wiry, dense muscle. It didn't show much in his frame, only in his surprising weight.

Bert grunted as he threw Fritz over one shoulder, then he seized the tail of the closest shark, gripped it tightly and began to trudge toward the Stairway.

When Fritz awoke it was to the familiar rocking motion of being carried, and none too gently.

"Bert, are we okay?" Fritz croaked out.

"Not really," Bert grumbled.

"But the Stairway is close, do you think you can walk?" Fritz kicked his legs weakly, they barely moved.

"No," he admitted.

"A shame. I might have to leave you here then," Bert said, still ambling forth.

"A shame indeed, and a pity," Fritz sighed, not at all concerned that Bert would actually leave him. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. His real concern was his team that had gone ahead and had obviously encountered a pack of their own, judging from the dead sharks. From where Fritz hung limply, he couldn't see any human corpses, but they may have been dragged down under the sand by the sharks, something he and Bert had to avoid many a time in their battle.

His other worry, though, was more potent, if less pronounced. What if they were left behind? Without him and Bert, they would no longer have to bear the spite. They could proceed more safely, if blindly, into the tenth and last Floor. Would it be another betrayal? Would Toby and Jane convince the rest to leave them behind? Was he going to get what he deserved for trusting those two traitors? Fritz sighed, there was no use worrying right now, no use in predicting the catastrophe that hadn't come to pass.

Though it's not like it would be too terrible to be left behind. He and Bert could take on the world, would take on the world, if it came to it. The only truly terrible thing would be losing all the hard-fought loot. Fritz shook his head, or tried to, and dispelled the morbid, distrustful thoughts. He was getting all too used to suspecting the worst of people. It was a bad habit, and one he'd been meaning to break. Fritz heard the sound of scraping, and saw Bert was pulling one of the larger sharks along with him.

"Why would you have to leave me behind? Just drop the shark instead," Fritz complained.

"I like the shark better, despite it biting my backside it's still less of a pain in the arse than you," Bert said with a small chuckle.

"Just come up with that or have you been waiting to say it?" Fritz asked,"Waiting," Bert stated proudly.

"Could have waited for an audience, the team will love that one. If they're still there that is," Fritz said darkly.

"They will be," Bert said confidently.

"And don't worry, this joke is good enough for a repeat."

"I'll ruin it," Fritz threatened.

"You won't," Bert countered.

"I won't," Fritz agreed, smiling. Soon a shadow was cast over them, and Fritz saw the scaled stone steps beneath him as he was hauled up the stairs.

"Another successful floor," Fritz said.

"Another win," Bert said.

"I don't say this enough but, good job, Bert. Couldn't have done it without you," Fritz said letting some of his affection slip.

"You don't say it, because it goes without saying, idiot," Bert said, but from his tone, Fritz knew the man was grinning. They fell into companionable quiet, broken by the sound of talking coming from above. The voices didn't seem to be argumentative, just worried. And when Bert walked them into the well room they went silent.

"You're alive," Lauren stated as though she didn't believe it.

"Told you so," Rosie declared.

"As did I," George added.

"Me too," Cal agreed.

"Like always," Jane sighed.

"Why'd you bring a shark?" Toby asked.

"Seems a pain."

"It is, but even though this shark bit my backside it is still less of a pain in the arse than you," Bert declared. There were some chuckles, but Fritz got the impression that the team was too harrowed for humour.

"Huh, maybe it wasn't worth the repeat," Bert muttered.

"The Well," Fritz coughed.

"Right!" Bert cried.

"Make way for your glorious captain. He endures many wounds he took ensuring your survival. And I'm hurt too." The team parted and Bert dropped his shark, then lumbered forward, towards the Well, Fritz assumed. He wasn't wrong as soon he was placed beside a thick, coral column that was grown in a spiralling pattern and glowed with a soft blue light. Fritz quickly placed a shaky hand upon the Well and drew in the cool, soothing power.

His cuts burned icily as they closed, Fritz didn't bother to guide the healing energies instead letting the Well decide where recovery was most required. Fritz let out a sigh that was echoed by Bert's own as colour returned to his skin. Although not all of Fritz's cuts closed, they had stopped bleeding for now and his fatigue had been eased somewhat. He was still tired, exhausted even, but now he could stand, and no longer did he feel under the threat of slipping into unconsciousness.

Now he was healed, he took in the Well room. He was disappointed by its simplicity and its small size. The walls were made of that stone scale he'd come to expect from the Mer Spire and those walls were close, cramped, there seemed barely enough space to set up all their bedrolls. That was going to grate on their nerves, though it seemed everyone else was also too weary to care about such things, yet.

"Toby, you can get started on the shark. Cal, I'm starving, cook up something to eat, would you?" Fritz ordered amiably.

"I uh, would, but there isn't any room for a fire," Cal said.

"No problem," Lauren said with a wide smile.

"Get out the pan."

"Whoa! Wait! You can't breathe fire in here," Cal protested. Lauren scoffed.

"Of course, what kind of idiot do you take me for? We got new Abilities remember."

"Oh, right," Cal said sheepishly, then retrieved the iron pan from his pack. Lauren stared at the metal, and after a moment frowned.

"It must be touch-based," she murmured and reached out, putting one slender finger on the pan's lip. A small spot where she touched iron glowed a dull red before dissipating when she removed her finger. Cal checked the pan, with a finger of his own.

"It's warm," he observed.

"Heat Metal," Lauren stated proudly, even if there was a little disappointment in her voice.

"Lucky," George said enviously.

"The best I could take was Harden Metal."

"I took Piercing Shriek. It was the best of my choices too," Rosie joined in.

"Don't know why it was offered, must be because of them sirens."

"Of course it was," Cal agreed reluctantly.

"My choices weren't great, Deep Lungs, Water Resistance, and Sure Footed. I ended up picking Sure Footed. It boosts my balance and the ability to stay on my feet and well... steadies me against being pushed around. Like with that damn wind mage."

"Good choices all around," Fritz said, not at all annoyed that they seemingly no longer needed his advice. Though he could hardly fault their choices, except maybe Rosie's, that was going to be a pain in the ears.

"How about you two?" Fritz asked Toby and Jane.

"Get anything good?" Toby shrugged and Jane said, "Toby got Quiet steps or something, not that he needs it, and I took Bloodletting." One of those Abilities sounded familiar, he had definitely been offered Quieted Steps before, but the other seemed to be some offensive power, not suited to a healer.

"Why take that? An odd ability for a Healer," Lauren professed before Fritz could.

"It's both, it creates a cut that draws out poison and disease," Jane said.

"It was either that or Cutting Strike or Calm. Bloodletting pairs well with Sew Wounds, and gives me some offence if I'm in trouble." Fritz couldn't fault her logic so he didn't speak up.

"How about you two?" Toby asked.

"Didn't get anything this Well," Bert said.

"Apart from attributes and that sweet, sweet healin'." Jane frowned, then her brow lifted. Obviously, she'd deduced something about their actual level, which was frustrating, though not entirely surprising.

"You didn't," she muttered. Fritz had to stop himself from scowling at his brother for giving so much away, especially in these small confines where every one could hear them. He almost wanted to punch Bert, but he knew it was an honest mistake, these things were bound to happen, there was only so much you could hide and be trusted at the same time. And they'd been walking that tightrope for too long, a slip was all but inevitable. Best to play it off for now, pretend the words didn't hold anything too significant.

"We did," Fritz said self-assuredly.

"But you shouldn't speak of it, not right now, not here."

"What's going on?" Lauren asked. When Fritz merely turned his blandest smile on her she sighed.

"More secrets is it?"

"Correct, as usual, Lauren," Fritz affirmed.

"Now, if you could aid Cal with dinner, that would be much appreciated," Fritz entreated.

"I'm no servant," she protested, but there was little heat to her words.

"Well, it's the only way we'll get something warm, unless you're keen on eating raw shark," Fritz argued affably.

"Fine," Lauren huffed.

"You just have to heat up the pan, I'll do the rest," Cal said as he took out one of the soggy bags filled with shark flesh. He started layering the pan with the fillets and Lauren placed her hand on the underside of the pan and soon the sound of sizzling could be heard.

"Thanks," Cal said. The team watched on hungrily, Bert licked his lips while Fritz's mouth watered. Rosie nearly drooled and George's stomach rumbled, which he bore stoically.

"Jane, could you heal Bert, then me?" Fritz asked so that some of the starving attention focused on the increasingly nervous Cal would be diverted.

"Sure thing, I got some of my mana back, I can use one or two Sew Wounds," she replied.

"Wish I knew how mana recovery works. I asked Jasper about it, but he was always too 'busy'."

"Oh, that? I thought everyone knew how Magic Attributes worked?" Lauren said.

"Weren't you taught that?"

"No... we weren't," Toby admitted bleakly.

"Not much in the way of tutors, unless you count Fritz."

"I wouldn't," Bert said, grinning.

"Harsh, but it wasn't like you lot wanted to listen to my lectures anyway," Fritz argued, somewhat sulkily.

"Though we're getting off track already, and I'm also burning to know how mana recovery works. Lauren, would you grace us with your wealth of education." She glared at him as if he were mocking her, but soon noticed the lack of artifice and the honest desire for her lessons.

"Of course," she said primly.

"I won't go into the greater theory, like how there are certain Traits, Advanced Attributes and Passives that can increase recovery. But here is the basic formula. Every hour a third of a third, or one-ninth of that Magic Attributes mana will recharge. That is to say, every nine hours your mana should be filled completely, barring more magic uses, penalties or select poisons. And so, every nine points you have in a Magic Attribute will regenerate one mana per hour, until you're full that is." Fritz blinked.

"Why?" George asked.

"Who knows," Lauren said with a shrug.

"It's just what's been observed. You'd have to go to the Grand Spire of Knowledge and Magic and ask the city of wizards and great scholars to get an in-depth explanation. They're the ones who would know."

"And here I thought it just recovered over a night's rest," Bert said.

"It does, sort of. One of those penalties to magic recovery includes sleeping well. If you don't rest you regain less, just like with Stamina," Lauren provided.

"And just how much rest should we be getting?" Toby asked.

"Six hours," she stated.

"I could sleep for twelve," Fritz yawned.

"Me too," Rose said, laying out her bedroll. Soon everyone was doing the same, it was like some sort of puzzle trying to fit them all together in the confines of the tiny Well room. Especially since no one wanted to be within rolling distance of the three Doors up, lest they awaken trapped in a stairway without the team. Fritz shuddered at the thought, and while he was waiting for his meal to be ready, he stared at the Doors and gleaned what he could.

His Door Sense responded sluggishly, no longer did it feel like it was blanketed in mist but rather it felt like it was being held down by some pressure from above. I get it, you don't like us Climbing as eight, Fritz bemoaned inwardly. The Spire didn't answer, not that he thought it would. Still, he received vague impressions from each of the Doors. It was far more than he'd been expecting though far less than he'd been hoping. The leftmost Door was another shore, with a warmer breeze carrying the scent of limes.

Danger lurked within, many monsters, eels maybe. The middlemost Door was a cave mouth of pale stone, a plane of water wobbling between its ceiling and floor. It was cold, and again there were monsters though of what type, he couldn't tell. The last Door was a circle of glossy, pink, pearl-like substance. A smooth ramp of the strange material flowed up and beyond his view. Fritz felt both a sense of bleakness and heaviness from the Door, though no monsters.

With his inspection done, he sat and pondered his choice of Door. With so little to go on, and with the spite as bad as it was, he felt as lost as he'd ever felt. It was just like when he'd chosen his very first door, any of these could lead him and his team to an early grave if he chose wrong. If he misjudged the deadliness of each Door. He sighed. He knew it wasn't all up to him, they could always vote. But this time he had no idea which way to steer their approval. It would be sheer luck.

And if Fritz could call himself one thing, it wasn't lucky.