16 Torix Worm, of Darkhill (1/2)

I cut off oppression while trying to lift my hands. I couldn't speak in his mana. Once my aura ended, the lich squinted his glowing eyes. He held me there, struggling for breath until I turned blue in the face. All at once, his aura returned to him.

I crumbled onto the ground, my hp falling fast. His aura nearly killed me before he cut it off. He pulled an ancient tome from his robes, and opened it as he cast a spell. I couldn't even begin to comprehend what he said.

Two shadows pulled at my arms, holding me up. He lowered his aura before saying, ”Your life and your corpse are mine.” He roared, ”Where is Alfred. Pray to your god that he is not dead.”

Still reeling from the sheer power of his mana and aura, my head rolled before my armor spit out Alfred's diary.

Another shadow spawned and picked up the book. It leaned onto one knee and held it out for its master. The lich put his glowing tome in his robe before picking up the ragged journal. Within seconds of opening the book, he let out a heartbroken howl.

He fell to his knees, heaving even though he didn't need to breath. He kept reading, and his eyes turned from blue to purple to red. A few minutes passed before he finished reading. He hugged the book close and said, ”My only son...My only son...”

Seeing his sorrow was painfully awkward for me. I didn't really know what to say to an undead lich, so I replied with a saying that couldn't go wrong,

”I'm sorry for your loss.”

Tenderly, he moved the journal into his robes before standing. The shadows disappeared as he said, ”Are you the one that killed him?”

I grit my teeth before saying, ”Yes.”

The lich nodded before saying, ”Did you stop this hivemind he called Baldag-Ruhl, of Many?'”

I nodded before he continued, ”Tell me everything you know.” There was not even an ounce of compromise in his voice. This was not a request. It was a command. Needless to say, I complied.

It took a while, but I told him the story of how Baldag-Ruhl tried turning me into his armor. He ended up giving me my current armor. As I told the story, the lich only nodded a few times while saying, ”Hmmm. Of course...”

As I finished. He said, ”Then you've killed my son and his killer. I can't tell if I should kill you or thank you for it.”

I shrugged as I said, ”Eh...It's hard to say. If it were me, I'd be at a loss too.”

The lich stared with unchanging eyes before bursting into laughter. He replied, ”You've grown rather accustomed to death then. To be so casual in the face of it...Even as a lich, I'm impressed. Who are you really?”

I said, ”I'm Daniel Hillside.”

He shook his head and said, ”No, I mean who are you really. You can't have already reached level 88 in a month after the Schema came into play. Not for a new species.”

I shrugged and said, ”I can show you, if you'd like.” I opened my menu screen and let him see it.

He nodded before saying, ”I thought you were lying about how you spawned there...A human killing an ancient level 152 rift holder...and doing so with this abomination of stats and abilities. Impressive. It is nothing compared with this armor though. The Harbinger of Cataclysm. It's a part of your soul. You sustain it. A marvelous set of armor.”

I nodded as I said, ”In a way, this armor is your son's legacy. Killing me is like killing the last piece that remains of him. Wouldn't it be more fitting for Alfred Worm to be remembered for this feat? To be remembered for his sacrifice?”

The lich shook his head and said, ”My son was a prodigy. A well of limitless talent for necromancy and the arcane. He would have been an even greater sorcerer than I. Dying like this cannot be redeemed. I would rather no one hear of this.”

His tone grew wistful as he continued, ”I'd searched for him for so long. I finally found traces of his mana signature on some strange world, off in some technologically decrepit world.”

He raised his hands and said, ”And lo and behold, as I near the dungeon, it disappears. Centuries pass of my searching. I couldn't find a trace of him, not until something strange happened here. A surge of the eldritch, unlike any I've ever heard of, explodes on this backwater planet. I would have thought nothing of it, just assuming it had been taken over by the eldritch. But, you see, at it's very center was the slightest familiar trace of mana. My son's mana.”

He glances off at the vast cavern as he says, ”Once I reach it, I find two humans walking from the dungeon. I interrogated them. It wasn't difficult learning what I needed to know. Then there was a very peculiar ability used within the forest. I followed it, finding a circle of dead fauna and a pair of tracks.”

He met my eyes as he said, ”Here I thought a Skeptilian mercenary had cleared the dungeon and killed my son. I come down, hunting for the user of the ability. I find Skeptilian bodies, then you. I watched you kill these monsters effortlessly. An unknown presence of such low level. I'd never seen it. I tested you by possessing the ogre. You killed it with ease. Then you cleared the insects below.”

His eyes squinted, ”You are interesting, but it does not change what you've done. You killed my son, even his fragmented remains. I cannot forgive you so easily. You will pay for what you've done.”

Sweat crawled down my back as he continued, ”You're one of two others I've found with arcane blood. I could hold you down and take pounds of your flesh, using it for mana. Arcane blood tastes so sweet to a lich.”

Even more cold sweat fell from me as he continued, ”And that armor of yours...I've never seen anything like it. Oh what experiments I could have with it, playing with your soul like a child playing in mud.”

Oh god, he's starting to sound a lot like Baldag-Ruhl. The lich said, ”Or I could have you become my apostle, and have you serve me in place of my son.”

Without even a second of hesitation, I said, ”You know, it's a tough decision between those three options, but I'd really recommend the third one.”

The lich said, ”Wise suggestion. I believe I will. Now, explain how your armor works, and all you know of it.”

I explained how Baldag-Ruhl's spell worked to the best of my knowledge. I described the walls of runes, miles long and utterly intricate. I described how I could show him the tunnels, and how it would make an excellent evil lair for him. He even chuckled a few times. Thank jesus he has a sense of humor, otherwise I'd be nearly dying from the tension.

When I finished, he said, ”Bring up your minimap.”

I brought it up as he said, ”Let me use it. I will download it then go towards this dungeon with the dungeon core you retrieved. These runes sound interesting.”

I nodded as my armor spit out Baldag-Ruhl's dungeon core. The necromancer said, ”The core is used. You will not lose your perk for it. Come to me after clearing these sets of dungeons. We have much to discuss.”

A request appeared,

Torix Worm, of Darkhill(lvl 1236) has offered you an apprenticeship. Do you accept? Y/N?

I gave out another instantaneous yes. Torix replied, ”You are not weak for your level, but realize that their are beings of immeasurable power spread throughout the Schema. Many are even more powerful than I. You are a desirable treat for them. If they find you, they will violate your soul in ways you cannot even imagine.”

I shivered before saying, ”Then I suppose I should thank you for taking me under your wing. I appreciate it.”

Torix nodded before opening a black portal with a purple border on it. He said, ”Don't disappoint me. You should avoid using that power of yours as well. It leaves a very...noticeable trace behind. Anyone skilled at reading mana will sense the offness of it. That is the way I found you in this dungeon.”

He walked through the portal, leaving me entirely alone. I let out a breath of air, falling onto my knees. Jesus fucking christ that was terrifying. I collect my thoughts over the next few minutes, just laying there.

A level over 1200...Goddamn. He could kill me with just a thought. The sheer overwhelming power he had was more than just a little humbling. Oppression would not be used until I could mask it. Period.

Well, unless death was the only other option. Even then though, dying sounds better than being a carapace for someone else. I shrugged the paranoia from me. No point in dwelling on what I couldn't have known.

With that handled, I finally looked past the doorway. Past the doorway, the entire area changed. Giant pistons pumped scalding steam, with a bronze metal plated over every surface. Like walking into an industrial factory's hallway, I paced onto a catwalk. My steps thumped on the grating that held me up.

Giant vat's of molten metal poured out into molds, making parts for machines. When I reached a hundred feet into the labyrinth of bronze, a machine with two sword arms appeared. It had three wheels for legs, and no face. A few carvings on it made it look like a greek mural almost.

It rolled towards me as Schema's message said,

Trolm Guard Bot(lvl 31) - A guard bot made for defending Trolm factories. Basic, dumb, and easily dispatched, this should be no trouble for your average adventurer.

More interestingly, is the Trolm themselves. A race of evolved trolls, they are a hardy, powerful race with intricate technical knowledge. For beings of a rift, at least. With powerful regeneration, tremendous physical stature, and mastery of basic machinery, they are to be feared.

Man, the sheer depth of these enemies always amazed me. I expected just generic fodder in most dungeons, but no. Every species and aspect of the dungeons had some history for it. It made this whole experience feel far more real.

I couldn't help but smile. This was fun, even with all the danger and fear. Besides, any good adventure is dangerous.